Chapter 1 - Dear Justin.

"Fuck. Flying from Pittsburgh to New York shouldn't be an all day ordeal," Justin said as he barged through the door, juggling keys and luggage as he tried to hold the door open for Daphne and keep Winston, his cat, from escaping at the same time. "I think it would have taken less time to drive."

"You're probably right. I still can't believe that we had to sit in the plane on the runway for two hours," Daphne adds her complaints as she kicks the door closed behind her. "Between Homeland Security, the ridiculous lines at the check-in counters, the airlines overselling flights and mechanical problems its really not worth flying anymore."

"At least we made it home, finally," Justin sighs as he drops everything on the floor and gratefully sinks into the couch, kicking off his converse sneakers and putting his feet up on the scratched up and dented old coffee table.

"Speak for yourself, Blondie," Daphne says, brushing back a stray strand of her long curly brown hair that had come out of one braid as she collapsed onto the couch beside Justin. "I still have to lug all this shit another four blocks to my little hovel which, I will remind you, I share with two obnoxious and unkempt roommates. Meanwhile you get to live in this virtual palace with your sugar daddy, Connor. It's just fucking unfair, if you ask me. I want a sugar daddy, too."

"Fuck you, Daph. Connor isn't my sugar daddy and I'd hardly call a two bedroom apartment a palace," the young blond artist corrects her, letting his shaggy blond mane flounce backward over the couch cushions as his head lolls with fatigue.

"Well it is when it's rent controlled and there's only the two of you living here. You don't even need the second bedroom for fuck's sake. For New York City that qualifies as a palace. And if you don't believe me, I'd be happy to trade places with you. See how you'd like sharing my little one-bedroom rat's nest with Cassandra, the world's biggest slut, and Hector, the great unbathed."

"Thanks, but no thanks, Daph," Justin laughed, giving his best friend a quick one-armed hug and pulling her over so her head landed in his lap in the process. "I'd probably kill Cassandra if I had to spend more than twenty-four hours anywhere near her - not to mention that having to listen to her having to all that straight sex night after night would make me puke. Plus, Hector always tries to grab my ass every time he sees me, which means I'd have to sleep with a club under my pillow to fight him off with. Nope, Connor and I are perfectly happy right here, thank you."

They both giggled at the mental image Justin's protests created. Justin let his strong, supple artists' fingers rub little comforting circles into his best friend's shoulder while they both relaxed for a few minutes after the long day of travel. The two college students had taken a long weekend to jet home to Pittsburgh to see their families before they were forced to buckle down and start studying for fall term finals. It had been a busy four days full of visits to relatives and friends, too many big meals and too much stress. They were both relieved to finally be home, regardless of how much they bitched about the travel.

Justin was in his second year at New York's School of Visual Arts, studying for a degree in Graphic Arts. Daphne, Justin's best friend since kindergarten, was trying for a BS degree in Microbiology at the City College of New York, and planning on parlaying that into a medical degree someday. Both had worked really hard to get where they were so far and they didn't plan on blowing things by not studying enough. Which was why they'd decided to stay in the city over Thanksgiving break. But, since Justin's mother insisted on a visit at least once every four months, they had agreed to visit home over the long Veterans' Day weekend instead. However it was now Monday night and they were back in the city - tomorrow they would head back to classes and start getting ready for their respective finals, which would hit starting the first week in December.  

"Where is the high and mighty Connor James, anyway," Daphne asked, sitting up slowly and looking around the quiet apartment.

"Don't know. I tried to call him this morning but only got his voice mail," Justin responded, hints of irritation coming out in the tone of his voice. "He's probably out with his acting friends doing something pretentious that they don't think I'd understand since I'm too young and way too blond to possibly understand what REAL artists discuss." Justin said the last line with a hoity-toity snobbishness that underscored his utter lack of respect for Connor's wanna-be-actor friends.  

The disdainful way his boyfriend's crowd treated Justin had become more and more a point of contention over the past couple of months. At this point, Justin simply refused to waste any of his time on Connor's artsy cronies. He didn't need that kind of added stress in his life. He knew he was an artist in his own right and bragging didn't make him more talented or sell paintings so why waste your breath. Most of Connor's friends didn't see it that way. In their minds it was all about who you knew, who you were seen with and where, and how well you could critique everyone else who you met. Connor seemed to be easily swayed by that argument. Justin couldn't care less. They'd fought more than once recently about Justin's refusal to cowtow to the popular crowd.  

Daphne wasn't about to get sucked into another discussion on this subject so she pretended momentary deafness and instead got up from the couch. "Want a glass of water or a beer?" Daphne asked as she headed towards the swinging door between the living area and the small galley-style kitchen.

"I'd love a beer. I doubt that Connor's left us any, though. He's not big on grocery shopping. But I will take a glass of water," Justin commented, not yet ready to budge from his perch on the sofa and not even bothering to lift up his head from the cushion, he was so tired.

There was the sound of a cabinet opening and then being slammed shut, glasses being set not so gently on the tiled kitchen counter and the kitchen tap being turned on and off. Then there was only silence coming from the kitchen for far too long. When Daphne didn't reemerge from the other room after more than five minutes, Justin finally realized that there was something odd going on.

"Daph? Everything okay in there," Justin sat up straighter and shouted over his shoulder into the blankness of the too-quiet kitchen.

His friend didn't say a thing. But Justin did hear the *swash-swash* of the swinging door as it was pushed open and then allowed to fly backwards freely. He twisted around so he could look over the back of the couch and see the doorway. What he saw was Daphne, her beautiful mocha face blanched and much too pale, holding out her hand with a white something-or-other gripped in her fist.

"Daph? What's wrong? Are you okay?" Justin demanded, immediately concerned about how his friend was acting.

"This . . . I found this on the fridge, Jus . . ." Daphne started to explain but then just gave up and shoved the white thing - which turned out to be a piece of white copy paper, like the kind they normally used in their computer printer - into Justin's hands.

The paper had been folded in half and had Justin's name scrawled across the flap in Connor's typical unrefined printing. Justin unfolded the sheet of paper and quickly scanned the writing inside. He had to stop halfway through the note, unable to grasp the message, and start over three times before he managed to read and understand the whole thing.

'Dear Justin,

I'm sorry to do this to you on such short notice, but I got a call late Wednesday, just after you left - I'm being offered the LEAD in a new movie being produced by Brett Keller! The LEAD! Can you believe it? I'm so jacked! So, I'm off to Los Angeles. I have to be there by Monday morning so there wasn't time to tell you. If I make it big, I don't think I'll be back, Dude. It's been great! Stay real! See you around!

Connor.'

Justin finally absorbed the meaning behind the words and released his grip on the piece of paper which fluttered away towards the dirty, cheap, off-beige carpeting. He must be sort of in shock, he figured, since he didn't really feel anything in response to what he'd read. Connor was gone. Just gone. He hadn't even bothered to call. He just left. Justin didn't have any idea how he was supposed to react to that news. It was completely out of the blue. No warning. No time to prepare or plan or anything. Justin hadn't even been aware that his boyfriend was up for a movie part. This was . . .

". . . A fucking insult! 'Stay real'? What the fuck does that mean? Stay fucking real! That prick, that absolute asshole, idiot, superficial, talentless prick!" Justin realized he was shouting before he even knew what he was saying. "We've been together for almost a year - living together for six months - and all that asswipe can say is 'It's been great! Stay real!' What the fuck? I never deluded myself that Connor was a genius but - really? - all he can come up with is 'Stay Real'? What a moron! I can't believe this . . ."

Justin ranted and rampaged around the fairly small apartment for more than an hour, yelling, throwing things that Connor had left behind in his haste to get to L.A. and, eventually, collapsing into fitful tears. Daphne followed behind her friend, consoling him whenever she could get a word in edgewise and grabbing the larger, more valuable things out of Justin's hands before he could throw them. Justin felt so incredibly betrayed and angry at the callous way his lover had just vanished without even speaking to him that all he could do for the longest time was sit on the floor in a crumpled heap and sob.

It wasn't until the youth had finally run out of angry tears that he thought about the more practical side of Connor's abandonment. The apartment lease was in Connor's name. It was a highly desired, rent-controlled building on the edge of the SoHo neighborhood and Justin had been more than excited to move into the place when Connor had invited him last spring. Justin might have been right earlier when he said this place wasn't exactly a palace, but that didn't mean Justin wanted to go back to living in the kind of tenement he'd been sharing with three other students back before he met Connor, either.   

But Justin was merely a college student. He was on a partial scholarship and worked two different part-time jobs to earn enough to pay the rest of his tuition and contribute a small portion towards his living expenses with Connor. Connor had luckily had the backing of his fairly wealthy suburbanite Connecticut parents, who seemed happy to subsidize their son's erstwhile acting career and cover all his costs while the twenty-five year old took acting classes, played bit parts in Broadway plays or on television shows and got the occasional modeling job.

By contrast, Justin's father had disowned his son when the boy announced he was gay and subsequently dropped out in the middle of his freshman year at Dartmouth. Craig Taylor hadn't given his son a penny since. Justin's mother had been more emotionally supportive but didn't have the money to help him out. Connor had been paying the majority of their joint living expenses the entire time that he and Justin had been together. There was absolutely no way in hell Justin could afford the rent on this place by himself.

Daphne did her best to provide a rational voice and keep Justin from freaking out completely while he tried to figure out what he would do with his future. It wasn't an easy job. Justin was . . . well, the term 'dramatic' was probably an understatement. However, Daphne managed to talk her friend down eventually.

"I'm pretty sure that the rent for this month was already paid," Justin confirmed when Daph managed to reestablish her friend's contact with his logical, thinking brain.

"Okay. That's great, Jus," Daphne reasoned as calmly as she could. "So that gives you almost three weeks still before December's rent is due. In the meantime, you advertise for roommates. You can post notices for free at both our schools, at local coffee shops, places like that and maybe even place an ad in the Gay City News or the Village Voice. It can't be that expensive. And this is a great apartment. I'm sure you can find a roomie or two that are willing to pay enough to cover most of the rent."

"Most of the rent, yeah, so then how do I cover the rest of it and all the utilities? I'm so fucked, Daph! I barely make enough to pay my tuition as it is," Justin sounded like he was about to break out wailing again, and Daphne just didn't have enough energy to deal with that tonight, so she quickly stood up and pulled her friend to his feet.

"You can only worry about one thing at a time, Justin," Daphne insisted as she led him towards the bedroom. "We're both tired and we're not going to come up with any solutions tonight. You are going to go to bed. I'm going to crash here for tonight because it's too late for me to be trudging around Manhattan with my suitcases. Plus, I'm not going to leave you alone like this. Tomorrow morning I'll treat you to a nice breakfast and then, after we've slept and eaten, we can work out exactly what you're going to do. Okay?"

*Sniff* Justin reluctantly nodded his head and let himself be walked towards his bed. Daphne manhandled the short, trim blond youth into place then pushed him backwards so that he landed, boneless and unprotesting, splayed out on his bed. Then, the undaunted girl pulled her friend's shoes off, undid his jeans and started pulling the despairing boy's pants off. Justin only resisted when it looked like his briefs were going to be pulled off too. Daphne raised her hands in surrender and let Justin finish removing his own pants after that.

When Justin was down to only his t-shirt and underwear, Daph rolled him under the covers and pulled up the duvet around him, just like she was tucking in a small child. Justin continued to pout morosely and didn't object in the least to the motherly treatment. When she had Justin squared away, Daphne quickly stripped down out of her own outer clothes and crawled in on the other side of the big king-sized bed before shutting off the bedside lamp.

"Don't worry, Jus," Daphne whispered to her friend as they both gravitated more towards the middle of the bed so they could cuddle together the way they always had since they'd been children. "We'll figure something out tomorrow. I don't know how, but, it will all work out somehow. I just know it."

Chapter 2 - The New Tenant.

Daphne had forgotten to close the bedroom door the night before. Which meant that Justin woke up to a large grey-brown bundle of fur sitting almost completely on his face the next morning. It also meant that his eyes were almost completely swollen closed and he was sneezing before he was even fully awake.

"Winston! Get down!" Justin ordered between wheezing and sneezing, swatting the cat off the bed before he raced to the bathroom to take an allergy pill and a couple puffs off his asthma inhaler. "Daphne, you know the cat isn't allowed in the bedroom."

*Mmrphhh* the lump under the bedcovers on the other side of the bed muttered.

Winston, meanwhile, had simply moved to the foot of the bed and started licking at his long, thick, grey hair. The cat knew well enough that he wasn't supposed to be in the bedroom. He and Justin had had a long running battle over the issue. Winston didn't seem to be interested in the fact that his owner was actually allergic to cats. He loved his person and thought that he should spend every possible minute of his day draped over Justin's body in some way or other. Justin had been adopted by the big lovable mop of fur just three days after he'd moved to the city. The boy adored the cat in spite of the problems the arrangement caused him. He'd told his doctor flat out that he'd get rid of him before he'd get rid of the cat. The doctor had sighed, prescribed stronger allergy meds and advised Justin to at least keep the cat out of his bedroom.

But, inevitably, any time the door to the bedroom was left even a little ajar, the wily feline found his way in and would plant himself on top of Justin's face.

Justin scooped up the unrepentant beast and threw him out into the hallway, trying to hold back an incipient sneeze until his hands were free. The cat padded off on his silent way looking like he'd meant to walk that direction all along. Justin couldn't hold back the sneeze any longer. He managed to raise his arm just in time to block the full brunt of the nasal explosion and then used the long sleeve of his tee to wipe away the snot that had escaped anyway.

Which was when Justin heard the front door of his apartment opening and the security chain on the back of the door snapping as the door reached the end of the short chain.

"What the fuck?" Someone on the other side of the door complained loudly as he tried a couple of times to force the door open in spite of the sturdy chain.

When whoever was trying to break in couldn't unlodge the chain, the person started pounding on the door and yelling 'Hey! Open Up!'

Justin was feeling a bit muzzy-headed as a result of both the allergy attack and then the strong allergy meds. He didn't really think about what he was doing. He pushed the door all the way closed, unhooked the security chain and then reopened the door to scream at whoever was causing such a ruckus this fucking early in the morning.

"Shut the fuck up! It's too fucking early in the morning to be yelling like that. Now, get the hell away from my door and leave me alone," Justin demanded even as he was still pulling the door open.

The man Justin found standing on the other side of the entranceway was momentarily stunned into silence by the sight of the messy blond man dressed only in tidy-whitie undies, a dirty, rumpled t-shirt and with the worst case of bed head he'd ever imagined. Justin's eyes were still blurry from the allergy attack, but from what he could see the man staring back at him didn't look like a raving maniac. Justin used his fist to scrub away some of the allergy gunk built up in the corner of one eye and then leered more closely at his early morning visitor.

The vision on his doorstep was certainly eye opening. It was a tall, slender, handsome brunet man wearing casual looking yet clearly expensive jeans, a nice cotton-silk button down shirt and a soft-as-butter, brown leather bomber jacket. The man had the most piercing, intense green-gold eyes that were pinned to Justin's own azure-blue eyes. The glints of golden fire that flickered in the depths of the stranger's eyes seemed to somehow ignite echoing sparks of icy crystal blue from the shorter blond man.

The lanky brunet looked over the entire blond package wobbling in front of him and didn't find too much that he didn't like. The young man was shorter than he usually liked them, but slim and compact with wiry muscles half-hidden under what seemed to be deliciously soft alabaster skin. His bright gold hair was too long and quite messy but it looked like it was made of liquid gold. The stranger on the landing  thought it would feel exquisite to card his fingers through that messy mane of hair and then use it to hold on while he did some decidedly naughty things to the rest of that sleek blond body. The boy's briefs gave a great view of the nicely filled basket that the blond toted around. And, if it weren't for the boy's puffy red eyes and slightly drippy nose, he could be pretty hot.

However, the sight of a hot, mostly undressed blond in his new apartment didn't disturb Brian Kinney too much. As long as the blond understood that Brian was too busy today for more than a quickie and then he'd have to be on his way. Brian had a bunch of shit to do and didn't have much time to spend with the housewarming present fate had kindly sent him. Brian started to push his way through the door, a large Louis Vuitton suitcase in one hand and a brushed stainless steel travel mug exuding wafts of the most delicious smelling coffee in the other.

"Grab that other bag and my carry on," Brian ordered the sleepy looking blond as he sidestepped around the young man and strode purposefully into the main living area.

"What do I look like, a bellboy? Get your own bags," Justin spat back at the rude intruder. "And what do you think you're doing here in my apartment with your fucking bags anyway? Who are you?"

"I'm Brian Kinney, and what do you mean, 'your apartment'? I think you must be mistaken, little boy. This is MY apartment. I sublet it yesterday from the owner, Stephan James. See, I have the key here and everything," the auburn-haired stranger explained, dangling a set of keys in front of Justin's face.

"But I live here," Justin insisted, still a bit dazed and blurry and not too quick on the uptake this morning. "I've lived here for the past six months with Connor. What the hell is going on?"

"Sorry, Princess, but this lease agreement says that I live here now," the persistent stranger insisted, pulling a copy of some standard looking legal documents out of the side pocket on the large suitcase. "So, unless you're interested in a quick farewell fuck, you are just going to have to pack up your shit and get your pretty little blond butt out of here. I've got tons of shit to do and I don't have time to mess with you. So, find your clothes and then it's bye-bye, Blondie."

Brian Kinney ignored the fazed looking blond and strode back out to the hallway to retrieve the rest of his matching luggage. He set the carry on down on the coffee table and draped the suit carrier carefully over the back of a chair then turned around to scan his new domain. He wasn't incredibly impressed.

While the main room was a fairly decent size, it was nothing fabulous. The apartment building had been constructed in the 1950's and both the architecture as well as the dimensions were reminiscent of that era. The main room was just large enough to accommodate the small desk set up in the right corner, the small but adequate dining table beyond and the couch and chairs with an entertainment center set up on the left. There was a hallway, presumably leading off to the two bedrooms and the bathroom, on the left side of the room and a doorway to the kitchen on the right. And, except for the small coat closet behind the entrance door, that was all there was. The walls were painted off white, the wall-to-wall carpeting was poor quality and not too clean and the furniture was pretty old and beat up. Brian Kinney wasn't exactly thrilled with the set up.

"Well, it's a fucking dump, but what did I expect renting a 'furnished' apartment in SoHo," Brian declared with a scowl and a turned up nose. "Luckily I won't be here for long - as soon as I get my first big bonus check I'm out of here. I'll get myself a nice loft somewhere uptown and buy some real furniture. But, in the meantime, this will have to do."

"But . . . but . . . what . . . I don't understand," Justin was still standing in his underwear beside the now closed door and sputtering while this stranger walked around and examined his home.

"It's not that difficult, Princess," Brian Kinney, the home invader, explained as he wiped some dust off one of his bags. "This is MY apartment. I have a six month lease. You, whoever you are, don't have a lease, which means you are leaving. I'll give you thirty minutes to get your shit and get out of here before I call the cops who will make you leave. What part of 'leave' do you not understand?"

"What part of 'I already LIVE here don't YOU understand, moron," Justin finally lost his temper and shouted back at the condescending older man. "My name is Justin Taylor, by the way, not 'Princess', and this is my home. I don't care if you have a lease or a royal decree or an edict from god! You can't just come into my home and kick me out! I've lived here for the past six months with my boyfriend, Connor James. We have a lease in his name. We've paid the rent through the end of November. Which means that this is my apartment at least until December first. Now, get the fuck out of my home."

"Hmm, I do remember the owner saying something about his son, Connor, living here, but he said the kid was off to California to become some big star," Brian said nonchalantly as he examined his manicure. "Daddy didn't say a word about you, Princess. Are you sure your boyfriend owned the lease? I get the impression that your boy was living here on his Daddy's dime and that your Connor didn't tell daddy-dearest about the cute little blond freeloader he was harboring."

"But Connor said . . . I thought . . . I don't . . ." Justin stumbled through several thoughts but they all died before he could voice them completely.

"Time's up, Princess. If you've got a lease or anything else that gives you the right to be here, show it to me now," Brian insisted, tired of screwing around with this silly inconvenience already. "If not, then get the fuck out of MY apartment!"

Right as Justin was about to crumble into a tiny heap of dust particles from the harsh treatment he'd received at the hands of the cruel home invader, his cavalry, in the form of one equally underdressed Daphne Chanders, finally arrived. The girl shuffled out of the bathroom at the end of the hall and approached the two arguing men with a big yawn splitting her pixyish face. Her hair had come completely out of its braids overnight and was standing on end in a wild disarray of curly brown that seemed endless. She was only wearing panties and a skimpy tee and didn't look any more awake than Justin had when he'd first answered the door.

"Soooo, the boyfriend's off to Cali and you've already got yourself a new girlfriend? You must be a fast worker, Princess," Brian commented while trying to avoid looking at the half dressed woman.

"Who's he," Daph asked her friend as she plopped down unceremoniously on the couch and used the coffee table as a foot rest. "And, more importantly, why the fuck is he so noisy this early in the morning?"

"He . . . he . . . He says he has a lease. . . " Justin started to explain but then gave up and just dropped down onto the couch next to his friend.

It took about fifteen more minutes of explaining before Daphne had the gist of the situation. While she was listening to Brian's explanation and Justin's occasional interjection, she started a pot of coffee, earning her both Justin and Brian's endless gratitude. Then she sat down at the table with a cup of her own and actually read Brian's sublease. By the time she was through examining the evidence, everyone was much better caffeinated and therefore able to think almost rationally about the dilemma.

"Well, this is how I see it," Daphne leaned back in her chair and started to expound at the two men across from her. "Brian, your lease does appear valid. I'm sorry, Justin, but you say you never actually saw the lease that you thought Connor had. It seems pretty likely that the lease was always in Connor's father's name and that means he has every right to sublet it while Connor's out of town." Daphne's initial comments caused Justin to slump even more dejectedly in his chair while Brian smirked at him triumphantly.

"On the other hand, Brian, Justin does have a point that his rent has been paid through the end of the month. That means, from a legal standpoint at least, that he has at least a periodic tenancy and the right to stay here through the end of November. And, if Mr. James wants Justin out, I'm pretty sure the law requires that he be given at least thirty days written notice. So the earliest you can force Justin out of the apartment would be about the second week of December, assuming Mr. James gave him legal notice of the eviction today."

"Who the fuck made you 'Perry Mason'," Brian groused at Daphne's disappointing recitation of eviction law.

"Oh, my friend Hector has had a bunch of problems with his former roommates. They pretty much have all eventually wanted to evict him. So, Hector knows everything about 'Forcible Entry and Detainer' laws. In fact, he once sued somebody for evicting him improperly and got a big settlement. So, I know a lot about evictions," Daphne explained and gave Brian a big insincere smile.

"So, the bottom line here boys is that you both have a legal right to the apartment, at least for the next month or so. Justin gets at least another thirty days, give or take, before he has to go anywhere. Brian, you probably have the right to break your sublease and get your money back from Mr. James since, technically, the apartment is still Justin's, but then you'd have to find another place to live in the meantime."

"Fuck that," Brian replied angrily. "I'm starting a new job with Kennedy & Collins on Monday. I don't have time to be looking for another apartment. And if I have to move back to the hotel I've been staying at, I'll be broke before the end of the month!"

"Well, then, it seems like the perfect answer is that you two share this apartment - at least for the time being," Daphne announced, clearly pleased with herself for so efficiently solving everyone's problems. "You both need a place to live, you both have a claim to this apartment and it does, conveniently, have two bedrooms. It's a great apartment, in a great location and you're not going to find anything as nice in the same price range anywhere closer than Brooklyn. It looks like you've just found yourselves a roommate."

"I don't want a fucking roommate," Brian complained instantly. "I'm almost thir . . . twenty-nine, and I haven't had a roommate since college. Why would I want Princess here as a roomie?"

"I don't exactly want you, Mr. High and Mighty, as a roomie, either," Justin said with a definite pout. "You definitely seem too high maintenance for me."

"Oh, come on you two," Daphne interrupted before they could start sniping at each other properly. "It's the perfect solution. You both get a place to live and it's not like you'll ever really be spending all that much time in the apartment together anyway. Justin, between school and your two jobs, you're hardly ever here except to sleep, right? I bet that once you start work, Brian - Kennedy & Collins, isn't that a big time advertising agency - I bet you'll be putting in ridiculous hours too. So, how tough could it be sharing a place that neither of you will ever be in except to sleep?"

There appeared to be grumbling on both sides for several minutes, but neither man could come up with a better solution. So, even though they were still eyeing each other with continued suspicion, Justin and Brian eventually agreed that it was the best solution for the time being. Daphne beamed her approval at them when they both finally conceded that she'd been right all along.

"But only for one month, you hear," Brian insisted just when everyone thought it had all been resolved. "You have to be out of here by December 12."

Justin was about to capitulate on that point, but Daphne broke in once again. "Brian, that's not very nice. You can't just throw Justin out right before Christmas. Be reasonable. There's no way Justin will be able to find a decent place until after the new year. You know what housing is like here in the City. Besides, Justin has finals the first two weeks of December and he needs to study - he can't be out trudging around looking for apartments. I think you should agree on a date sometime in January. Say, January 15th? That gives everyone a chance to get through the holidays, Justin won't be stressed about moving during his finals, and everyone will be warm and happy through the start of the new year!"

Daph was so enthusiastic about the perfect solution she had come up with that neither of the men felt up to contradicting her. She smiled broadly at them as Brian and Justin shook hands on the agreement to share the apartment until January 15th. It didn't sound that bad. Really, it was only two months. How tough could it be?

"Great!" Daphne voiced her approval that the boys had agreed to play together nicely and then jumped to her feet. "Shit! I've got to get going. I've got class in an hour and I still have to drop my stuff off at my place. Talk to you later, Justin. Nice meeting you Brian. I think you'll love living here! Bye, guys!"

The whirlwind that was Daphne blew out of the apartment without waiting for either man to voice a goodbye. Both Brian and Justin were still sitting at the table, gripping their now-cold mugs of coffee, and unsure what was supposed to happen next. Justin smiled uncertainly up at his new flatmate from under his long golden lashes and had to acknowledge that at least his new roomie was fun to look at, if nothing else. Brian was thinking along the same lines, but probably not as willing to let the sentiment show on his face. So they just sat there for a few moments longer, saying nothing and pretending like they weren't really checking each other out.

"Meeerrooooowww." Winston chose that moment to announce his presence as he jumped up in one graceful bound from the floor onto the tabletop and sat himself down regally, directly in front of Brian.

"No fucking way! You never said anything about a cat!" Brian jumped back out of his chair, knocking it over in his haste to flee from the deadly beast that was eyeing him so malevolently.

Winston picked up one delicate paw, flexed the claws a teensy bit just for show, and then started in daintily licking at the pads of his foot. Brian's eyes got incredibly wide at the sight of the claws. He continued to back away until his back was plastered against the shelves next to the desk. The cat continued his morning ablutions, sending the occasional green-eyed glare at the man cowering against the far wall. Justin looked back and forth between the two and then burst out laughing.

"Brian Kinney, meet Winston the Cat. Unfortunately he comes as a package deal with me. I'm sure you'll become great friends in no time," Justin chuckled as he scooped up the big furry pussy cat before the kitty could scare his new roomie off permanently.

Chapter 3 - Welcome to the City!

Justin didn't have time to completely resolve the issue with Winston the cat before he had to scurry off to his first class of the day. Brian quickly hid his overt fear of the furry animal but was still noticeably uneasy. Winston watched the new person with a careful, wary, green eye, following Brian's every move around the small space. It was rather unnerving for the tall brunet who didn't like acknowledging any type of fear. To Justin it was simply hilariously funny.

In the end though, Justin agreed to shut the cat up in the bathroom when he left so that Brian could move his stuff in without kitty supervision. Justin also agreed, magnanimously he thought, to relinquish the larger of the two bedrooms to Brian. He tore through the room like a tornado, pulling out all of his clothing, the bedding and his personal items and tossing them haphazardly into the second bedroom before he grabbed his messenger bag and portfolio case and dashed out of the building to go to class. Brian stood there watching the front door slam shut behind Justin, not really sure how the day, and the situation, had gotten away from him so completely.

Brian shook his head and sighed. He reminded himself it was only till January. It was only till January. It was only till January . . .

And then Brian realized that he desperately needed to piss after all that coffee they'd drank already this morning. Only, that was where the cat had been locked away. And he was alone now in the apartment; Justin wasn't here to run interference with the beast.

Shit! First an annoying blond twink that he can't get rid of. Then the killer kitty of SoHo. This was definitely NOT how Brian Kinney wanted to start his morning!

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

Justin didn't make it back to the apartment until after 7:30 that evening. The conscientious art student had three classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays and then he always went directly to work at the art supply store where he was employed in the framing department four days a week. By the time he caught the bus home, stopping only to pick up a six pack of beer, a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter - which would have to suffice as both his dinner tonight and his breakfast tomorrow - it was pouring rain and pitch dark outside. When the youth finally struggled into the sixth floor apartment, he looked more like a drowned rat than a human.

At least the sight that greeted him when he opened the door was humorous enough to make Justin forget about all his other troubles for a little while. Brian's large designer suitcase was still sitting in the middle of the living room floor in the same place it had been when Justin had left that morning. On the very top of the case, perched precariously but with apparent ease, was Winston. Brian Kinney, his brand new roommate, was sitting on the couch staring at the cat, his look made up of equal parts confusion, anger and persistence. The cat had that inscrutable look all cats can assume at will - his eyes were slitted almost all the way closed, his ears scanning like radar dishes around the whole room, keeping track of everything, while he pretended not to care a wit what the new human was doing. The mood in the house was tense.

"Hey, Brian," Justin said in a cheery voice, dropping his bags down on nearby tables, chairs, and the floor, wherever they chose to land. "So, did you get all moved in?"

"No. Your monster cat here refuses to get off my luggage," Brian replied with annoyance since it was pretty clear that he wasn't done unpacking and exactly who was responsible.

"I thought Winston was locked in the bathroom?"

"I had to fucking piss. He ran out as soon as I opened the damned door and refused to go back in. He's been sitting there on my bag for fucking hours. When I tried to move him, the fucker growled at me! Since when do cats fucking growl?"

*He he he* Justin merely chuckled at Brian's outrage and went right over to pick up the cat off the suitcase. "Come here, you. Don't terrorize our new roommate, Winston. Seriously, he can't be THAT bad, can he?"

As soon as the beast was contained in Justin's sturdy arms, Brian jumped up and ran for his suitcase, trundling it into his bedroom and slamming the door shut behind him. Justin's giggling followed him down the hallway. Justin let the cat down, shrugged out of his wet jacket and then went into the kitchen to prepare his meager dinner.

Brian emerged from his room about a half hour later. Justin was stretched out across the couch with the stereo on and a heavy looking art history textbook propped against the sofa arm. The remains of his third helping of peanut butter toast was sitting on a paper towel on the coffee table along with one empty and one half-full beer. Winston, who was probably still working away at his own dinner in the kitchen, was nowhere to be seen, which seemed to help restore Brian's usual self-confidence.

"Hey," Brian said tentatively as he settled into the armchair across from Justin. "So . . . Homework, I guess?"

"Yeah, I've got about 200 pages of reading to finish by next week," Justin replied, rolling so he could sit up and look at Brian more directly. "Um, Brian, I'm really sorry about leaving you at Winston's mercy all day. He's actually a wonderful pet. He just gets a little protective of me sometimes."

"Yeah, great. You know, Princess, most people have guard dogs, not guard cats," Brian teased, seeming to finally relax a bit.

"Well, they don't have a Winston," Justin responded, laughing at himself and his over-protective cat. "He'll get used to you after awhile. He didn't ever really like Connor but after the first month or so they reached a detente of sorts and just politely avoided each other. I'm sure you two will work it out."

"Can't you, maybe, keep him in your room or something until then?" Brian suggested.

"Sorry, Winston isn't allowed into my bedroom. I'm allergic to cats. And if he gets on my bed then I'll end up a sneezing mess," Justin explained.

"That makes absolutely no sense. How can a person who is allergic to cats own one?"

"Well, first of all, it's really not that bad," Justin reasoned. "Mostly, my allergy meds take care of things. As long as he stays out of my room so that I have at least one allergen free place, and I remember to wash my hands after petting him, I'm usually fine. And, secondly," Justin continued, "I don't think it's completely true that I own him. It's sort of more the other way around - Winston owns me. He decided I was his person the first week I arrived here in New York. I never had much say in the decision. So it's not like I really have a choice."

"What the fuck are you talking about? Of course you have a choice. If you don't want the cat, you take it to a shelter or give him away or whatever. You're the human, right? You're not trying to tell me the cat has a say in shit," Brian protested.

"Actually, that's exactly what I'm saying," Justin smiled at Brian's look of disbelief. "See, Winston showed up one day at the door of the first apartment I got here in the City. One morning I opened the door to go out and get some coffee and there he was, just sitting there at the door like he'd been waiting for me. He meowed at me and then walked right into the apartment. I threw him out, of course, and tried to get him to leave but he wouldn't. Every damn time I went out the door, he was waiting for me. He got really good at sneaking inside too - he'd run between your legs so fast you barely even noticed him. Once he clawed his way through a window screen so that he could get in. Eventually I gave up and let him adopt me. It was easier than trying to get rid of him."

By the end of Justin's story even the normally taciturn Brian was laughing at the idea of the determined cat adopting a person. It helped to break the ice enough to get the two relative strangers talking. They covered all the basics: what Brian's new job was going to be like, where Justin went to school and where he worked  and where they were both from. It turned out, by some odd coincidence, that they were both originally from Pittsburgh. So, in spite of the rocky start they'd gotten off to that morning, and Winston's attempts to intimidate Brian, the two men managed to find they had quite a bit in common by the time they'd finished talking.

When they'd been talking for about an hour, Justin got up from the couch, displacing a happily purring Winston who'd made himself comfortable on his person's lap at some indeterminate period during the conversation, and offered to get Brian a beer. "I'd offer you more, but I don't get paid until Friday so, unless you want peanut butter toast that's really all there is," Justin explained as he moved off towards the kitchen.

"You can't live on peanut butter toast alone," Brian declared.

"Of course you can," Justin asserted. "Or at least you can for a couple of days. Besides, I just got back from visiting my family in Pittsburgh and I should be able to live off the fat stores I accumulated while I was there for at least a week. I'm surprised I'm not still full after everything my mother force fed me all weekend."

Brian accepted the beer Justin came back with but sat quietly contemplating the label without speaking for a minute or two. "I was going to go out and try this Thai place not too far from here and then hit a couple of clubs afterwards," Brian announced casually. "You're welcome to join me, if you like - my treat - to sort of celebrate our new living arrangements and all."

"No thanks, Brian. I appreciate the offer, but I've got those two hundred pages of reading to get to and a project to get started on for my animation class," Justin answered, hefting up his abandoned textbook as evidence. "Besides, I'm really not all that into the club scene, anyway."

'That's too bad,' Brian caught himself thinking. 'I wouldn't mind dancing with the kid. He's pretty hot and, based on the way he slinks around here, I bet he can move damn good.'

However Brian wasn't about to waste time thinking about Justin when there was a whole Big Apple out there just waiting for Brian Kinney to take a bite out of it. He'd visited the City enough times in the past to already know where to find some of the best clubs. Now that he was officially settled into a real apartment - regardless of the strange circumstances surrounding the whole arrangement - Brian was more than ready to start the official celebration of his move to the City. He was ready to party!

"Well, suit yourself. I'm off then," Brian shrugged as he got to his feet and headed for the door.

"Have a great time, Brian!" Justin waved goodbye and then turned back to his homework.

'At least with all this chaos about my new roomie, the beautiful Brian Kinney,' a stray thought wiffled through Justin's consciousness, 'I haven't had time to think about that asswipe, Connor.'

And Justin refused to think about the loser now either. Instead, he bent his head over the art history book and tried to focus on the glorious works of the Italian Renaissance. As long as he hadn't ended up homeless as a result of Connor James' idiocy, Justin really didn't want to have to think about the man at all.

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

"Oh yeah! Oh! Oh! Yeah!"

Justin thought maybe he'd been having the oddest dream of his life when the shouting first got loud enough that he could hear it all the way in his bedroom. But that couldn't be. If he was having an erotic dream of some kind, shouldn't he at least be involved in the fun stuff. Why was he here in bed alone with all that moaning and yelling and begging for 'More' going on without him?

"Fuck me, man! Fuck ME!"

Justin blinked at the digital clock next to his bed and blearily noted it was 2:30 am. He wasn't really functioning enough to figure out what all the noise was about. Instead, he just rolled out of bed and shuffled along, half-asleep, heading towards the source of the noise, scratching lazily at his belly and yawning so hard there were tears forced out of the corners of his eyes.

Once Justin's door was opened, the noise level increased exponentially. The moaning and groaning was much clearer now. There was also a light on in the main room. Sleepy Justin stumbled along unthinkingly towards the light to find out what all the shouting was about.

As soon as he could see around the edge of the wall into the living room, though, Justin was shocked awake enough to freeze in his steps. He blinked a couple times and rubbed at his eyes to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing. But the disturbing vision didn't go away, so it must be real. Justin simply had never thought he'd happen across such a spectacle, especially not in his own living room.

What Justin saw there were two naked men kneeling on the couch. The one closest to him, a dark-haired, beefy, muscle-bound type with a dark tan, was bent over the back of the couch with his legs spread wide. It was Beefy Boy who'd been making all the noise. Kneeling directly behind Beefy Boy and holding the writhing and moaning man in place with one strong arm while he rammed relentlessly into his ass was Justin's new roommate, Brian Kinney.

With his free hand, Brian was waving around an open bottle of Jim Beam, taking occasional gulps of the dark amber whiskey as he rode his Beefy stud into submission. Obviously, a large portion of the bottle had already been consumed by one or both of the two primary participants, neither of whom seemed able to focus completely on their surroundings. In fact, Justin had probably been standing there staring at the pair for a full five minutes before anyone noticed his presence.

"Hey there, Princess!" Brian said when he finally became cognizant that they weren't alone anymore. "We're jus having a little party to celebray' my glorious arrival in the City that Never Sleeeps. Wanna join us?" Brian held up the sloshing bottle in invitation but didn't seem at all deterred when Justin mutely shook his head. "No? Suit yoursel', Princess. Mor' fer me! *Hehehe* I was gonna take a bite outta the stupid Big Apple, ya know, like in the songs and shit, but then I decided I'd just eat this guy's nice big beefy bubble butt instead! Don't ya think that's bettern' some stupid apple? I'd rather eat ass than rotten apples any fuckin' day!"

And with that comment still hanging in the air around them, Brian took a tighter hold onto the shoulder of the Beefy Boy in front of him, and slammed into the man's body with even more gusto than before. It only took three more well-aimed thrusts before the Big Guy screamed out his final 'YES!' and started shooting out long streamers of thick cum that splattered all over the back of the couch as well as the floor and even a drop or two on Justin himself. Realizing that he'd reached his goal, Brian relaxed his shoulders and held himself and the Beefy Bottom still for about fifteen seconds until he grunted out his own release and sagged onto the body in front of him.

Justin was still standing there in utter disbelief when Brian had recovered enough to pull out of Beefy Bottom Boy and struggle to his feet. "Tha's nice," Brian commented and patted the stranger on the head once, almost affectionately, before he pushed the guy roughly off the couch and started to walk away. "Now, get the fuck out!" Brian ordered over his shoulder, still holding onto the whiskey bottle with one hand. "I gotta piss! Will you sho' our guest out, Princess?"

It took Justin and Beefy Boy a couple minutes to find all of the inebriated man's clothes. Then Justin called a cab for the guy and shoved him out the apartment door. Justin could hear the water running in the shower when he finally made his way to the bathroom. He hammered on the door a couple times but got no response from Brian. Finally, the weary young man decided to give up and head back to bed.

Justin figured that Brian would probably be all right since he'd presumably made it to the shower. And, if not, well . . . At least he wouldn't have to worry about a noisy roommate anymore.

Chapter 4 - Bonding.

"Good Morning, Brian!"

A very chipper Justin burbled as he burst into Brian's bedroom at precisely 7:30 am. He immediately bustled over to the window and threw open the drapes. Then, with the bright sun beaming down into the bedroom, Justin launched himself onto the bed next to the cringing heap of hangover that was Brian Kinney. Justin landed with a big bounce, knocking into The Hangover and jostling him until a small whimper was forced out.

"Fuck off!" Grumbled the Heap of Hangover.

"Oh, nooooo. I'm not going to let you off the hook that easy, roomie!" Justin laughed mischievously. "Because, you see, I happen to have early classes on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. That means I'll be getting up this early all the time. And, if you expect to keep waking ME up in the middle of the night so that I can help your tricks find their clothes and get them bundled off home when you're through with them, then you can expect me to wake YOU up and annoy you the next morning! Isn't this going to be FUN!"

The Hangover mumbled something that Justin didn't quite catch about 'fun' and 'wringing little twink necks'.

"Yes! It's going to be SO fun!" Justin insisted as he enthusiastically hugged the Hangover Heap and then pulled the duvet off so he could commence tickling and poking at the Heap until it was thoroughly awake.

"Get the fuck . . . Errgh . . . Get off! Fuck it, Justin. . . . I'm fucking serious! Get off of me!" The writhing angry Hangover Heap growled as it rolled around trying to evade the invasive tickling fingers. "I'm fucking awake, okay. I'm awake! Now stop fucking sticking your fingers in my gut or I'm gonna puke all over you!"

Heeding the warning, Justin gave over with the tickle torture and instead just lay there and smiled in his usual overly-cheerful way at the angry Hangover Heap.

"Fuck! I'm sharing an apartment with 'Little Mary Sunshine'" Brian, aka The Heap, groaned as he rolled out of the bed and stomped off towards the bathroom.

"Mission accomplished!" Justin chuckled and jumped off the bed.

By the time the Hangover was done pissing and had found a couple of pain relievers for his pounding head, the little ball of Sunshine that had annoyed him out of bed was already gone off to school and work and wherever else annoyingly happy twink's go during the day. Brian did discover that the irritating Sunshine Twink had been gracious enough to leave him with a fresh pot of coffee. Brian poured himself a cup and decided he wouldn't actually have to kill Justin, only punish him severely.

Then, since he didn't have to be anywhere today until afternoon, Brian stumbled his way back to bed to nurse his hangover and contemplate exactly how he'd punish 'Little Mary Sunshine' later that night.

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When Brian awoke later that morning, the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes were the two bright green eyes staring back at him from only about six inches away. The sight startled him fully awake in seconds. Brian would have immediately bolted except for the fact that there was a furry weight on his bare chest and his initial movement caused the cat who was perched there to dig his claws in just enough to stabilize himself. When Brian immediately froze, the claws were thankfully retracted but the big grey cat remained.

Winston seemed undecided about this new person. Brian watched in horror as the animal opened its mouth slightly, revealing a dark red nobbly tongue that seemed to arch up from between the razor sharp bottom teeth. Then, with twitching whiskers, the beast’s nostrils widened and Brian could see the animal sniffing at him. The terrified human laid as still as he possibly could and tried not to even breath for fear of antagonizing the little monster.

But . . . nothing more happened. Brian lay there paralyzed by what he perceived as the threatening behavior of the beast for several minutes. When Winston had finished getting a thorough whiff of this interesting new companion, he closed his mouth, tucked all his bits and pieces under his fluffy body and contentedly snuggled in, ready for his mid-morning nap. The warm chest of this new person seemed as good a place as any for a nap, so Winston didn’t even need to move. He just slitted his eyes almost closed and commenced a very low intensity rumbling half-purr deep in his furry little chest.

Brian had never had a pet before. He’d never even known anyone else who had a pet - except for that one summer when his best friend, Mikey, had convinced his mother to let him take in a stray dog. Brian had only warily approached the mutt the few times he’d visited while the dog was living there. He’d gone as far as patting it rather tentatively on the head a couple times but hadn’t tried anything more intimate. Unfortunately, the poor dog was killed by a car speeding through the neighborhood before the summer ended and that was the last time Brian had been exposed to any type of pet.

But even then, that was a dog. Dogs almost made sense to Brian. They were useful. They could guard things, do tricks, fetch stuff - at least that’s what he’d been told. If you HAD to have a pet, a dog was understandable. Cats on the other hand were incomprehensible. They were dangerous little beasts that did nothing but shed fur. They wouldn’t obey commands or do tricks. Pet cats couldn’t do anything useful as far as Brian could see. They always seemed to him too proud to care what the humans around them wanted. And, they had really sharp teeth and claws that didn’t seem to serve any function other than to terrify rodents - and non-cat-people. So, unless you had a barn full of mice, they weren’t useful in any way. Brian just didn’t understand why anyone would bother to take care of a messy, fuzzy, waste of space like a cat.

Accordingly, Brian had never spent so much as ten minutes before with any cat. He’d never even touched a housecat before. So, really, he was at a complete loss here when he found himself pinned in his bed by a rumbling shaggy varmint that didn’t seem like he was going to move anytime soon. The little display of claws and teeth earlier hadn’t reassured the man much either. He didn’t have one clue how to dislodge the cat without antagonizing it further. So, Brian just laid there and looked at Winston while the cat slept.

When the little creature didn’t make any dangerous moves for a while, Brian began to calm down enough to really look at the animal. The first thing that struck him was the incredible array of colors that made up the cat’s fur. Each strand of hair was made up of at least three different colors. It was dark black near the cat’s skin and then would shade into an almost-white grey with bands of either darker grey, brown or more black. When you stood back, the fuzz ball looked like a pretty standard shade of grey with a few black markings. But up close, the colors of its fur were amazingly complex interweavings of a multitude of colors. It was completely fascinating.

Without even thinking about it, Brian reached one hand out to feel the intricately patterned fur near the cat’s ruff. Brian was staggered at just how soft the wiry looking fur felt. He’d never touched anything that soft before in his life - it was softer even than his favorite cashmere sweater. When the cat didn’t react in any violent way to the reluctant touches of Brian’s fingertips, the man became bolder and started using his whole hand to stroke the luxuriant pelt of soft fuzz. He could feel the warmth of the cat radiating off the furry little body and that added to the pleasure of the tactile sensation. When his continued stroking generated a much louder rumbling sound and Winston suddenly yawned with a tongue curling amused look, Brian again froze. However, there were no other threatening signs from the warm little body, so eventually Brian went back to petting the cat, burying his fingers in the long thick beautiful grey hair.

Brian, the non-cat-person, had no idea how long he laid there just petting the cat. After a while, he found his mind drifting, thinking about his move to New York, what he had to still get done before he started his new job on Monday, and sundry other things, tasks and chores. Strangely though, Brian didn’t feel the same sense of tense pressure he usually got when he thought about that sort of thing. He calmly rifled through his mental ‘To Do’ list and seemed to easily sort it out. It would all get done, he decided.

Just when Brian was about to start to think about having to move, there was a soft tapping at his slightly ajar bedroom door and a bright blond head popped around the doorframe. Brian immediately stopped moving his hand but was too slow to pull it away from Winston’s fur before Justin got a good eyeful of the big stud lying in bed petting a pussy cat. The number of jokes that ran through his blond head at the sight were astronomical. He didn’t voice any of them, though. Brian’s sheepish look - as if he’d been caught doing something naughty - was too priceless to mar with a few cheap laughs.

“Hey, Brian,” Justin said with a warm smile. “I had to come back for a book I need for my afternoon class, so I thought I’d just check in on you while I was here. Make sure you weren’t too sick or anything after last night. . . But, I see you’re being looked after by Winston so I guess I shouldn’t have worried.“

The sound of his person’s delightful low tenor voice brought Winston around. He slowly stretched every vertebra in his long cat body starting with the tip of his tail until he was completely standing. Then, he directed a little kitty grin at the warm person who’d served as his napping platform and jumped easily down off the bed. Winston twined his body around Justin’s legs as he greeted his person and then sauntered off down the hall to investigate his food bowl or water dish or, maybe, to find another napping spot that was less noisy.

“The stupid little fuzzball was crouched on my chest when I woke up and clawed me when I tried to move,” Brian complained gruffly, pretending like he hadn’t been caught petting a cat.

“Yeah, he does that,” Justin huffed a small laugh at Brian’s attempt to appear tough even in the face of unrelenting cat affection. “If you don’t want him in here, just make sure to close your door all the way. He’s really good at opening doors, though, so you have to make sure that the latch is completely caught or he’ll eventually get it opened. I’m not really sure how he does it.”

“Whatever,” Brian grumbled and then threw back the bedcovers and stood up with a yawn and a big stretch.

Justin wasn't prepared for the full onslaught of gloriously naked Brian Kinney. Yes, he'd seen the man in action the night before, but he'd been sloshed and was busy with the Beefy Boy. And, Justin had even got a quick peek this morning, mostly from the backside, as Brian had fled from the tickle torture. But, the sight of him now, standing right in front of Justin, stretching out his tall, lean frame, was enough to render the youth temporarily mute and paralyzed. The dumbstruck blond just stood there with his mouth hanging slightly agape and stared.

Brian Kinney was truly the most beautiful man that Justin had ever seen. His body was long and thin, without an ounce of fat or flab anywhere. His skin was a lovely golden tan. Under those yards and yards of golden skin you could see the strong bones and long well-sculpted musculature of a man who obviously worked out but wasn't obsessed about it. Brian's arms were well developed, his shoulders wide and strong looking and his pecs were nicely toned. From there, his body tapered down towards almost delicate, lean hips with just the right amount of wiry muscles through the abdomen.

Brian didn't have much body hair, but Justin was happy to see that the man didn't have that fake, over-groomed look either. He did sport a nice big bush of tightly curled dark auburn pubes. And then, below that, there was the real treat - a magnificently large, long and beautifully formed cock, that even when Brian was relaxed looked like more than a handful. Justin could tell that it would plump up nicely if treated well. And oh, right then, Justin did so want to treat all of Mr. Kinney's beautiful body so very well!

Brian wasn't shy about his body. He'd been ogled by thousands and rather enjoyed the feeling. But it had been a while since he'd felt the sort of intense adulation that was radiating off the young blond man who was eyeing him now with such specific scrutiny. The little artist was staring at him with his mouth open and his lust-darkened eyes roving hungrily over every single inch of him. It was enough to faze even the usually arrogant Brian Kinney.   

Brian wasn't about to let on that Justin's gaze unsettled him, though. Instead he simply pulled a pair of jeans out of the nearby bureau, slid them on as nonchalantly as he could then looked back up at his new roommate. Justin was trying to surreptitiously wipe away a small drop or two of drool that had escaped the corner of his mouth but smiled shyly when he was caught.

"Didn't you have a book you needed or something, Mr. Taylor?" Brian asked with a big self-satisfied smirk.

"Book?" Justin seemed to be having trouble focusing his gaze anywhere other than Brian's crotch even though it was now covered. "Oh, yeah . . . Right! My Animation Theory book . . . I forgot it . . . This morning . . . Uh, yeah . . ."

"I'm pretty sure it's not hiding in my jeans, Justin," Brian said rather sternly, causing the young man's head to jerk up guiltily.

"UhHmm. Right. Sorry," Justin finally came to his senses and started to carefully back out of the room. "So, um, I'll just get my book and I'll, er, see you later, then?"

"Yeah, later!" Brian replied as he shoved the door closed in his visitor's face a little too quickly, trying to hide the silly smile he felt invading his face as a result of the boy's ridiculous fumbling ardor.

Brian finished dressing and then spent a few minutes tidying up in his room until he heard the front door closing as Justin hurried back to his classes. As soon as he was sure the coast was clear, Brian popped out and started to go about his business. He wasn't sure why he'd just been hiding in his room, avoiding his significantly younger new roomie, and he mentally berated himself for being a sillier twat than the boy. But, he did have a lot of shit he had to get done today, so he didn't let himself dwell on the incident for long.  

The first order of business was to figure out what he still needed to make his new apartment livable. When he'd moved from Pittsburgh, Brian hadn't wanted to schlep along a bunch of crap. He'd already planned on renting at least a partially furnished apartment and figured he'd just buy whatever else he needed once he found a place to live. Luckily, the furnished apartment he'd ended up in came with a fully stocked Justin Taylor as well as the basic furniture he'd planned on having. Which meant that Brian wouldn't have to buy everything needed to set up a home. However there was sure to be things that Justin didn't have that Brian would want, so he'd start off by inventorying the apartment and getting together a shopping list of what he needed.  

Brian headed for the bathroom first. Stocking up on necessities was key. Toilet paper, facial tissues, cleaning supplies - Brian knew the boy was living on a tight budget so he was bound to be in need of that kind of stuff, and Brian wasn't about to do without. Brian had his phone out and the notebook app running before he pushed the bathroom door all the way opened.

Brian had already noted the day before that his new roomie wasn't the tidiest of people. Unfortunately, the situation seemed even worse today. The first thing that Brian noted when he entered the bathroom was that whoever had used the toilet last hadn't bothered to flush. Shaking his head with disdain, Brian quickly remedied that little problem. As he stepped back from the toilet though, his heel landed atop a pile of dirty laundry and a wet towel that had been abandoned on the tile floor next to the tub. He would have picked that up too but didn't see anywhere to put it. 'Laundry Hamper' was the first item he typed into his shopping list. Then, noting the threadbare, poor-quality hand towel hanging askew next to the sink, Brian quickly added, 'New Towels'. He sighed. It was going to take a lot to get this place into a Kinney-Approved state.

Twenty minutes later, Brian emerged from the bathroom with an already lengthy list. He passed through the living room area and wasn't happy to observe more of Justin's clothing scattered everywhere, unruly piles of books and papers on almost every surface and the remains of Justin's peanut butter toast from last night still lying on the coffee table. Brian was going to have to have a long talk with the young man in the very near future about housekeeping duties.

Brian checked the coat closet next and then the kitchen but he couldn't find a vacuum anywhere. No wonder the carpet looked so . . . beige! That was added to the shopping list and given two stars to indicate it's very high priority.

Next, Brian tackled the kitchen. He wasn't happy when he found the trash can under the sink overflowing and the kitchen cupboards disgustingly filthy. There wasn't anything in the fridge except for a half-loaf of bread, a carton of milk that had expired two weeks earlier, something rotten that had probably once been green in the vegetable drawer and a cracked egg that was cemented into the built-in egg holder in the door. Brian's options from the available cleaning products he found under the sink were woefully inadequate - there was only an empty spray bottle of glass cleaner, a crusty can of scouring powder and a dried-up old sponge that looked like it had last been used sometime before Brian had been born. 'Cleaning Shit' Brian added to his list and then retreated from the horrors of the kitchen.

Brian sure hoped that the local grocery store and kitchen supply stores delivered because he was going to need a buttload of shit!

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

Justin didn't get home that evening until almost nine. He'd stayed late at work to help out with a large framing order - he could definitely use the extra hours and extra pay. But it did mean that he was beyond exhausted by the time he made it back to the door of the apartment. So, when he opened the door of his home and almost didn't recognize the place, he thought at first he was just seeing things.

"Take off your shoes and walk on the paper," Justin was ordered before he even got the door completely opened. "I had the carpets cleaned this afternoon. They were absolutely disgusting! When was the last time you fucking cleaned this place, Justin? I couldn't even find your vacuum!" Brian rebuked his slob of a roommate from his seat on the couch.

Justin immediately noticed that the carpeting he'd always assumed was a dirty grey color was actually a light brown now. Set atop the still damp carpet were large sheets of thick white paper that made a path from the front door to the kitchen and then on down the hall. Justin obediently toed off his shoes, juggled his bags so he could pick them up and carefully followed the trail of paper carpet protectors inside.

"Don't even think about dropping all that shit out here, Princess!" Brian ordered just as the tired young artist was about to place his art portfolio on the armchair next to the couch. "Take it to your room. I just spent all day cleaning up in here and I'm not letting you mess it up again already. And, oh yeah, I got a basket for shoes - it's over there by the door - and I hung a coat rack on the wall. Use them!"

"Huh?" Justin responded, feeling like a messy child being reprimanded by his mother.

"A coat rack - you know, a place other than the chair backs where you can hang up your wet jacket. I'm sure you must have seen one before. And the basket is so you can take off your shoes and not track dirt and crap all over the carpets. What don't you understand? Were you raised by feral cats in a cave somewhere? I'm not living with a total fucking slob for the next two months. So you're just going to have to fucking pick up after yourself from now on!" Brian insisted, looking dangerously perturbed when Justin still didn't seem to comprehend.

Justin meekly followed directions and placed his shoes in the appropriate basket then hung his coat on a free hook by the door before carrying all his bags into his own room. He wasn't sure if he was grateful or angry when he noticed that even his room had been tidied up and all his clothes picked up off the floor and either hung up in the closet or neatly folded on his bed. It was like a bizarro world episode where everything was familiar but still slightly off somehow. Justin didn't have any idea how to react to his new companion's unprecedented cleaning frenzy.

He'd only just worked up a proper sense of outrage over Brian's invasion of his personal space - even if he really did appreciate that his clothes had been picked up - when his incipient outburst was deflated by the sound of the buzzer on the downstairs door. Justin tenuously poked his head out of his bedroom to see Brian answering the buzzer, informing whoever was at the door to come on up to apartment '6B' and then moving off towards the kitchen. Justin decided to venture out of hiding and investigate whatever was developing right as Brian was opening the door and paying for a large bag of take out food that smelled simply delicious.

"I'm assuming that you haven't had dinner yet," Brian replied as soon as Justin's stomach growled so loudly that it could be heard clear across the room. "Don't worry, I got you some too, Princess."

Brian smiled as Justin literally skipped over to join him at the dining table with a big grin that reminded him of that bright beam of sunshine that had rolled into his room earlier that morning along with the beaming happy young man. In spite of his fatigue from shopping and cleaning all afternoon, Brian almost felt rejuvenated by that enthusiastic blond smile. Maybe he could tolerate living with this little slobbish artist after all.

Chapter 5 - Neat, Tidy and Rather Promiscuous.

By Friday evening Brian had finished reorganizing the entire apartment. Thursday had been completely devoted to the kitchen. When Justin arrived home from work that night, he found that Brian had thrown out all his dishes and cutlery and replaced it with much trendier editions.

When he braved the kitchen itself Justin found that organizing bins, trays, stands and shelves had appeared in every single cupboard. The flatware and cooking implements had been sorted out and distributed to different drawers. There were brand new, matching pots and pans in one cupboard. The new dishes were neatly arranged in the cabinet next to the sink. Under the sink there appeared to be at least thirty bottles of different cleaning solutions, along with new brushes and sponges, all arranged in a new pull out bin. There was also a new, lidded, trash bin and a little organizer rack installed on the cabinet door for boxes of plastic bags, zipper baggies and such like. There was one whole cupboard devoted to canned goods, all of which were arranged alphabetically with their labels pointing forward. On the counter, Justin's old coffee maker and toaster had also been replaced by brand new, top-of-the-line models.

Justin felt like his life had been usurped by a Martha Stewart clone!

Justin assumed that Friday wouldn't be quite so traumatic since Brian had been forced to spend a good part of the day in the HR department for his new employer. How much more could Brian possibly do in such a small apartment in only one afternoon? However, Justin noticed as soon as he got home that the AdMan had apparently been home long enough to reorganize the little desk area in the main room.

All of Justin's paperwork had been neatly organized into files with typed adhesive labels and allocated into one separate drawer. Brian had taken over the other large drawer and there were similar file folders - mostly still empty - in that drawer. In the center drawer, there was a new organizer tray that held all the pencils, pens, paper clips and other paraphernalia. On the desktop there was a brand new computer, a state of the art scanner and a printer. On the wall above, Brian had installed a new cupboard that held trays of paper, large items like staplers and hole punches and sundry other office necessities. There was a new bookcase next to the desk where all Justin's school books had been shelved in alphabetical order according to the author's names. It was very . . . organized.

Justin managed to control his temper when he saw all this, but only just barely. It had been a very long week with lots of changes. Justin was completely wiped out and didn't really want to confront Brian right that instant. Yes, there was going to have to be a long, long conversation about boundaries sometime soon, but Justin was simply too tired to tackle that tonight. Instead, Justin decided to get a couple aspirin for his stress headache, order a pizza for dinner and then go to bed early.

There were a couple of problems with this plan, though. First of all, Brian had apparently also hit the bathroom. None of Justin's meds, or the aspirin, were in the drawer where he usually kept them. In fact, none of anything he usually kept in that drawer was still there. His drawer was now filled with an organizer tray neatly displaying assorted brushes, combs, tweezers, nail clippers and shaving gear. After frantically searching through all the other reorganized drawers and the newly installed retractable bins under the sink, Justin finally thought to look in the medicine cabinet that had always been left empty before. Bingo! There were Justin's meds, all lined up neatly on the lowest shelf. The other two shelves were now crowded with Brian's skin care products, lotions, creams, sprays and other 'essentials'.

Justin was by now too annoyed to do anything other than take some of his relocated aspirin and head to his room to quietly fume in peace. He probably needed sleep right now more than food anyway. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day at the gallery where he worked on the weekends and he needed to be well rested and look his best. Maybe he'd skip the pizza and just hit the hay. When he opened his bedroom door, though, and saw that Brian had been organizing HIS room again too, Justin had had enough.

“Brian! Get your meddling, skinny ass in here RIGHT NOW!” Justin bellowed so loudly that everyone on the same floor of the building probably heard him.

The meddler himself had been kind of worried that he might have gone a bit too far in daring to organize Justin’s room. But, the boy hadn’t complained when he’d picked up the clothing off the floor the other day before the carpet cleaners had come, so maybe, Brian thought, Justin wouldn’t hate that He'd found a couple of organizing aides for Justin’s room as well. It DID look much nicer in there after Brian had finished.

However, Justin’s bellow when he entered the small second bedroom disabused Brian of the idea that his roommate might actually appreciate the help. Yeah, going through Justin's room had probably been too much. Brian reluctantly came out of his own room and shuffled down the hallway to where Justin was standing with his legs spread, his arms crossed and a huge frown on his usually sunny face.

“What the fuck did you do with my drawings?” Justin practically screamed as soon as Brian neared. “I was putting them together into a portfolio to show my boss at the gallery. He said that he might consider showing a couple of my pieces. I swear to every fucking god ever worshiped by any being on this planet that if you threw them out or damaged them in any way I will kill you!”

“Hold your paint swatches, Princess,” Brian tried to stem any further threats. “I didn’t hurt your drawings. I just put them in this nifty new art display rack I got you.” Brian tugged Justin over to the corner of the room and showed him the filing system he’d picked up for Justin. “I thought it would be better to keep your stuff in here rather than all over the floor and the bed where they might get stepped on. I would never fucking damage your art, Justin. I really like your stuff. I'm sor . . . I didn’t mean to mess up your portfolio for your boss.”   

On the far side of the bed, tucked away between the window and where Justin had set up his easel, there was a sleek looking black metal display rack that had plastic art protector folders and dividers. It was actually kind of the coolest thing that Justin had ever seen. Inside the protective pouches, Justin could see all of his artwork organized into genres - charcoal and pencil sketches in one, abstract drawings in another, small abstract paintings in a third and so on. Of course, it was no longer arranged as he’d had it laid out on his bed and floor - the way he wanted it displayed for the presentation to his boss in the morning - but it was very neat and tidy. And . . . the work WAS better protected this way. And . . . his room did look much better without ten thousand pieces of sketch work scattered everywhere. So, maybe, Justin wouldn’t kill Brian after all.

“Before you get all worked up about everything else you can’t find,” Brian interrupted his thoughts. “I put all your paints in that little caddy thingy over there and there’s a rack that attaches to the back of the easel with all of your pencils and brushes and shit. I . . . Well, I thought you might like it organized a little bit better. If you hate it, well, I can always take this shit back . . . “ Brian’s explanation died off before he risked uttering an actual apology.

Justin looked down at his socks uncomfortably. Okay, he might have overreacted just a little. But, he was pretty finicky when it came to his art. You could touch his meds, his clothes, his food even but don’t fuck with his art. So, there were going to have to be limits.

Justin looked over at his new roomie and wondered briefly if this arrangement would ever really work out. This neat freak thing of Brian’s was already getting on his nerves, big time. Justin hated always having to worry about picking up everything as he went. It fucking cramped his style. He had better things to worry about than keeping things neat enough for his new OCD roommate.

However, Brian was standing there waiting for him to say something. The seemingly self-confident older man appeared more contrite than Justin had expected him to ever be. Somewhere behind that brash, ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ exterior, Justin caught a glimpse of a little boy who wanted approval for his wonderful, brilliant idea.

Justin couldn’t do it - he couldn’t dash that uncertain, eager to please, little boy’s hopes. “Thank you for getting all this stuff for me, Brian. It’s really great, actually. I didn’t mean to yell, I just panicked when I didn’t see my stuff. . . But, Brian, can we please just agree that you won’t organize my room? I’m cool with everything else, but, can’t I just have MY room the way I want? Please? I promise not to go into your room and mess your stuff up either. Okay?”

"Of course. It's no biggie. I was just getting some other stuff for myself and I saw this shit. But, really, if you don't like it, it can be gone by tomorrow. I don't give a shit," Brian was already backpedaling, trying to look like he wasn't disappointed by Justin's less than enthusiastic response to his big surprise.

"No, no. I like it, Brian. Really. It's all pretty cool," Justin tried to reassure the insecure little boy hiding inside the big man standing next to him. Then, to encourage him just a bit more, Justin asked," so where'd you get all this stuff, anyway? I've never seen anything this nice, even in the catalogs at the art supply place where I work."

Brian almost instantly lost the nonchalant air he'd been trying to maintain and became immediately animated. "Well, I called this guy in the art department where I used to work in the Pitts. He told me the name of this store they used for display racks and stuff they would have to put together for clients, and it turned out the place is actually based here in the City. I stopped by there this afternoon on my way home and well . . . So, there's more . . . You had all these big things like protractors and stencils that wouldn't fit in anything else so I found this door rack thing," Brian raced over to Justin's closet and pulled it open to show off that particular organizer.  "But I also got this free-standing rack thing for you too," Brian pulled another tall grey rack out of the closet, "that you can have standing next to your easel if you need it. The whole set went together, kind of - or at least the sales person who wanted the big commission said they all went together - so I just got it all."

Justin had to smile at the energy and excitement Brian was showing as he pointed out all the attributes of the cool new toys he'd found. The artist was a little shocked at just how much Brian had spent on all these props for him, but his roommate hadn't batted an eyelash at the expense. Brian just went on and on about the 'quality' of everything and seemed very happy with what he'd purchased. Justin had to swallow all his misgivings, nod appreciatively as Brian pointed out every special feature and thank his new friend profusely. When it was all over, Brian seemed pleased with himself and truly glad that Justin seemed to like everything. Justin tried hard not to smile at just how cute the big guy was when he acted this way.  

In the end, after admiring and playing with everything for an acceptable length of time, Justin did get Brian to agree NOT to move things around in his room without asking first. Then, partly just to be nice and partly as a reward for his generosity, Justin asked for Brian's input on what he should present to his boss in the morning. The young artist pretty quickly found out that Brian had some very good ideas. Before long he grabbed a couple of the display rack files and the two men moved out to the dining room where they could lay things out and get a better view.

Two hours and one half-veggie/half-meat-lovers pizza later - Justin’s treat - Justin put away the last of the pictures they’d been discussing and took the finalized stack of pieces they’d decided on to put in his portfolio bag for tomorrow. He was pleased with the selections he’d made and with the tips and insights that Brian had provided. Maybe having someone who knew a few things about advertising and the world of commercial art would prove to be a big bonus to the up and coming young artist. Now, if only he could talk his boss into letting him display a few pieces at the gallery. It could just be the big break he needed so badly.

Brian was surprised when they finished to note how late it was. He didn’t really remember the last time he’d spent so much time talking and laughing with another person - let alone another man who he found to be quite attractive. It was. . . refreshing . . . , he supposed, to have an actual conversation with someone. If he’d met Justin under any other circumstances, they would have said nothing more than ‘Hey. Wanna fuck?’ and that would likely be it. But, in that case, he wouldn’t have had a chance to find out what a truly interesting person the young man was. However, he would have at least got to fuck the boy, which didn’t seem like a good idea now since they were roommates. And, while they’d been talking, both Brian and Justin had been relaxed and at ease with each other - it had seemed perfectly normal and casual. Now that they were done with all the talking, though, and Brian had started to think about all the other things he would have normally done to an appetizing piece of ass like Justin, there was a big part of him that wasn’t all that relaxed, namely his cock. All in all, the whole situation confused Brian more than he cared to admit.

“Wanna go out and hit a couple clubs with me?” Brian heard himself asking before he even realized he was talking - obviously his cock had very determined plans and was talking for him now.

“Thanks, but I’ll have to take another rain check,” Justin replied candidly. “I don’t want to go into this meeting with my boss tomorrow all tired out and hungover. Plus, it’s been a bitch of a week and I could really use a full eight hours of sleep for once.”

“Well, it’s your loss, Princess. I’m NOT staying home on a Friday night. I don’t care how tired I was, I don’t think I’ve stayed home on a Friday night since I was fifteen. So, I’ll leave you and your art to commune and go change,” Brian announced, a little too unconcernedly, and jogged off to his room to find the perfect club clothes.

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

“Oh yeah! Oh! Yeah! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck ME!"

Justin was jolted out of his bed once again by a begging, pleading, half-screaming male voice. He checked his clock and saw that it was a little after 2:00 am. And, even though he wasn’t completely awake enough to function yet, this time he knew what was causing all the noise.

He waited in his bed for about five minutes, hopeful that it would be over quickly and that he could get back to sleep. But, when the ‘Oh yeah’s and the ‘Fuck me’s kept going on and on, Justin figured that it was hopeless. If he planned on getting any more sleep tonight he was going to have to do something.

The yawning blond wriggled out from under the covers and crawled out of bed. He pulled on a pair of sweat pants and then dragged himself down the hallway towards the noise and lights. Brian and his new trick hadn’t even made it as far as the couch this time, so Justin couldn’t actually see them until he was almost all the way into the main room. But this guy was even more of a screamer than Beefy Boy had been, so Justin knew he was on the right track and just kept stumbling along.

Justin readily located Brian and his newest friend spread out across the very same dining table they'd been sitting at just a few hours earlier when they'd been going through the boy's art. This guy was a lot thiner than the last one - he looked like a swimmer or a runner. He was lying on his back across the width of the table with his hands hooked over the edge next to his ass so he could hold on. Brian was bent over him, not even undressed this time, with his pants bagging down around his knees.  

Since they weren't exactly centered in the middle of the table, every time Brian gave a really strong push, the one end of the table would pop up into the air a little. Brian would then have to back off enough to make sure the whole thing didn't tip over completely. It was clear to Justin that this was throwing Brian's pace off a little. So, in an altruistic attempt to be helpful, as well as a desire to get this over with sooner rather than later, Justin pulled out the chair near the lighter end of the table, put his elbows on the table edge and then rested his tired head on his hands. He yawned disinterestedly as he stared at the pumping, pulsing, sweaty, man-on-man action going on about a foot away from his face.

"Are we boring you, Princess?" Brian asked, noticing mostly the bored, yawning indifference, and not really fazed by the presence of a spectator.

"Oh, no. You're fine. Carry on." Justin waved Brian off and yawned again.

A slightly pissed off Brian Kinney renewed his efforts. He did have to acknowledge that Justin's counterweight on the table was quite helpful. It let him keep up a much steadier and more intense pace. And, to Justin's credit, the fuck did go much more smoothly after that. Which meant that both Brian and the trick managed to get off in less than twenty more thrusts.

As soon as he saw the first splatters of cum shooting skyward, Justin got up and started collecting the clothing strewn around the room. By the time Brian had caught his breath and pulled out, Justin was ready, standing there, holding out the trick's clothing in one hand and pulling the door open with the other. He wasn't going to worry about a cab for this one - the guy seemed sober enough to find his own.

"'Night, night," Justin stated dryly. "Thanks for cuming. Don't call us - we'll call you . . . never. Bye."

As soon as tall swimmer guy was clear Justin slammed the door shut and shuffled off back to bed without saying anything more to his lothario roomie.

Brian wasn't exactly sure what to think. He watched Justin until the younger man was ensconced back in his bedroom. 'That was weird,' Brian thought to himself. Then he shook himself and headed off to the shower, too tired and slightly too drunk to worry about it.

Chapter 6 - Getting to Know You.

Justin plugged his phone into the portable CD player, turned the volume up as high as it could go and then tapped the Alarm icon on the phone. An earsplitting clarion-type alarm immediately began wailing into the previous quiet of Brian’s bedroom. The man on the bed instantly bolted upright, got tangled in the bedcovers and then fell onto the floor with a thud.

Justin was laughing so hard at the sight that he almost couldn’t breathe. When he finally managed to control himself, he switched off the cacophonous noise and then skipped over to open up the curtains. Brian was still flailing on the floor amidst the blankets and grumbling. When the bright morning sunlight flooded over him, he jumped up and lashed out at his morning prankster.

“What the FUCK do you think you’re doing, Justin? I could have fucking broke my neck, you asshole. God damned alarm shit! Why the hell are you waking me up at the crack of fucking dawn in the first place? This is NOT fucking funny!” Brian shouted, almost as loudly as the alarm had been blasting a few minutes before.

“Oh, poor Brian,” Justin responded with all the fake sympathy he could muster. “Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning? Maybe, next time, you should try falling out going the other direction. *hehehe* And, by the way, it’s not the ‘crack of dawn’. It’s almost 9:00 am. You’re just lucky that I don’t have to be to work before 9:30 on Saturdays or I would have had to wake you up much earlier. Isn’t this FUN!”

Brian finally managed to get himself unwound from the tangled blankets and staggered to his feet. “Grrnmmnn. . .  Mary fucking Sunshine . . . mmrrruuurrnnn. . .  break my god damned neck . . . Stupid twinks. . . . mmmrrrwwwnnn. . . fucking dawn. . . “ the big grouch continuously grumbled as he stomped off, completely ignoring Justin's ongoing laughter, and slammed the bathroom door closed behind him.

“I’ve got to get going now, Brian," Justin yelled through the door. “Bye! Have a lovely day!”

After Brian pissed and swallowed six aspirin for his throbbing headache, he stomped back down the hallway to to the kitchen. The annoying, sunshiney Twink had again left him with a fresh pot of coffee, which allowed Brian to dial down his own revenge plans just a tad. He still wasn’t happy with the mischievous youth, though. Something would have to be done about this fucking early morning shit.

Brian poured himself a mugful of hot coffee and then perused his perfectly organized cupboards for some breakfast cereal. Pulling out the big box of Cheerios he’d picked up the other day, he filled a bowl, added milk and then shuffled along with everything to the couch where he could eat his breakfast, loll into the couch cushions and work on his plans to get back at Little Mary Sunshine. Starting on Monday, Brian would be getting up just as early as the Twink - at least on weekdays - so he would have a great opportunity for payback soon if he could just come up with the perfect plan

“Mew?” Winston gave an inquisitive little greeting and hopped up onto the coffee table, seating himself right next to Brian’s bowl of cereal. Without waiting for any further invitation, he hunkered down, tucked his paws under and prepared to watch the entertainment.  He simply loved the ‘New-Person-eats-cereal’ show - it was exciting and came with definite milky possibilities.

“Get your disease infested ass off my table, fuzzball,” Brian shouted, making little shooing gestures in the cat’s direction.

Winston seemed to think this was all just part of the show and didn’t even flinch. Brian pulled his bowl closer and hurriedly ate the rest of his cereal before the irritating little critter could get to it. When he was finished, Brian abandoned the bowl and huddled back into the couch, letting the dangerous beast have its space, intent on protecting his remaining coffee at all costs. The cat rose gracefully to his feet and then tip toed over to the remains of the milk.

“Moww,” Winston, who’d always been a very talkative kitty, thanked New Person for the treat and then delicately dipped his pink tongue into the bowl.

Brian wasn’t sure exactly what all the meowing noises were about. In spite of his brief time petting this one the other day, he still wasn’t comfortable around beasts with pointy claws and teeth. He didn’t know why the cat was staring at him all the time and it made him more than uneasy. If the monster wanted the fucking milk, he could have it, as long as it left Brian alone. Although, the idea of a cat licking his bowl, with the same cat tongue it used to lick its own ass, was pretty disgusting. Brian made a mental note to disinfect all the plates and bowls thoroughly as soon as possible. And all the tabletops and counters.

While the cat was distracted by the bowl of milk, Brian took his chance to escape. He edged back around the couch, keeping a wary eye on the cat’s position all the while, and then, once he was relatively safe, he turned and hurried off to the bathroom where he could close the door on the little monster. Taking a deep breath, Brian started off on his morning routine. Hopefully, going through all his usual, familiar morning rituals - all alone, without an irritating too-chipper twink or his beady-eyed fuzzbeast interfering - would be relaxing and help get his day back on the right track.

Except that he wasn’t going to get to relax and ease his way through his normal morning routine because the bathroom was a complete mess again. There were bottles of hair gel and aftershave sitting on the counter next to an open tube of toothpaste that was dribbling onto the tile. There was a used razor propped against the rim of the sink and the basin was encrusted with dried shaving cream remains and fine blond whiskers. To top it all off, there was what appeared to be a dirty pair of briefs wadded up and stuffed between the tile backsplash and the faucet handle.

“You might look like Mary fucking Sunshine in the morning, Princess, but you are the biggest, dirtiest slob I have ever met,” Brian declared in pure disgust as he picked up the offensive underwear, trying not to touch them more than absolutely necessary, and gingerly deposited them into the brand new clothes hamper he’d purchased just two days earlier. “Looks like I need to brush up on my Twink Training skills. Lesson one - how to put your dirty clothes in the hamper located only two feet away from you.”

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

"Soooooo, how are things going with Brian?" Daphne had waited all of thirty five seconds after they were seated at a table with their subway sandwiches before prying.

"Oh, swell!" Justin replied facetiously, more than willing to use his best friend as a sounding board so he could vent all his frustrations about his new roomie. "Yeah, we're getting along just great. I, personally, LOVE being told fifty times a day to pick up my stuff. Of course, half the time I don't know where anything of mine IS because Brian has 'organized' it into some black hole somewhere. I'll probably never find all my shit. That's assuming he didn't throw whatever it was away. Did you know he actually threw out all my plates and bowls, Daph, because they didn't all 'match'. He's a fucking OCD freak. Well, except when he's drunk off his ass and fucking some nameless trick on my couch or across the table - THEN he doesn't seem to care how much of a mess he's making."

When Justin finally took a break from fuming and scarfed down a big bite of his sandwich, allowing Daphne to get exactly one word in, she hollered, "WHAT?"

"Yeah, he threw out my plates and, like, half the stuff I had in the bathroom and fuck knows what else. And, he's bought all these racks and bins and shelves and shit," Justin couldn't let it go. "He even stands at the door and watches until I take off my shoes and put them in what he calls 'The Shoe Basket' - like that's the basket's official name or something. It's just so bizarre. I mean, the food in the cupboards is alphabetically arranged - how crazy do you have to be to alphabetized your canned goods . . . " Justin was about to continue his anti-cleaning rant when Daphne grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him forcefully until he stopped.

"Who gives a fuck about the cans," Daphne demanded. "What was that about him fucking someone on the couch? That's what I want to hear about, Justin. NOT some stupid cans."

"Don't even get me started on THAT subject, Daph," Justin said, and then started right in on the subject himself, without further prompting. "So, twice now, he's gone out clubbing and brought home guys. The first time - Wednesday - he woke me up at 2:30 in the morning to find him and this gym bunny going at it on the couch. Then, get this, he had the fucking balls to ask ME to show the guy out while he stumbled off to have a piss. Last night it was 2:00 am and I found him fucking on the table. It's really fucking annoying, you know."

"Actually, it sounds kinda hot," Daphne, the nympho freak, weighed in with a giggle. "So he's just fucking these guys all over your apartment? Doesn't he seem to mind that you keep walking in on him? Did he get pissed off at you? Was he, like, totally naked? I mean, he's not bad looking for an old guy - too skinny, maybe, but still okay looking - so, what's his body like? What's his cock like? Come on Justin. Spill already!"

"I guess it WAS sort of hot," Justin admitted, apparently only now stopping to consider it. "But mostly I was just too pissed off at getting woken up in the middle of the night to care. It's not easy to get all excited and shit when you're not even completely awake. And, it's not like I'm getting to do any of the fucking. Brian doesn't seem to give a crap about me watching though. Last night I even sat down at the table while they were doing it and he didn't bat an eye. He just started fucking the guy twice as fast. In fact, the first night Brian even asked if I wanted to join them."  

"Well, why didn't you!" Daphne demanded. "You're a free man now. Connor's off to Lala land and he never even fucking bothered to call you. You should take Brian up on his offer."

"Fuck you, Daph," Justin was turning red just thinking about the possibility. "I'm not going to join my roommate - a guy I've known for less than a week - in some orgy. Isn't it bad enough I have to live with the guy? He's already half crazy. It would end up a total nightmare if I fucked him. I mean, he might go totally psycho on me. Then where would I live? Your couch? No fucking way. Besides, after Connor, I'm through with guys for the foreseeable future. I need to concentrate on getting through school and my art. I don't have time for any more boyfriend shit."

"Famous last words . . ." Daphne said teasingly and then ducked when Justin threw a half-hearted punch at her shoulder.

Justin went back to the remains of his lunch for a minute or so before speaking again.

"Although, he did get me some really nice art display stuff AND he's bought dinner for us twice . . . AND, he DOES have probably the most beautiful cock I've ever seen in my whole fucking life . . . " Justin said, feigning indifference until the last sentence caught Daph's attention, and then the two old friends fell together in a squealing, giggling heap for the remainder of their lunch break.

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

Brian wasn't home when Justin showed up after work that night. Which was sort of a bummer since Justin was dying to share the news that his boss had agreed to let him hang one of his paintings in the gallery. It might have even been Brian's help pulling together the portfolio that won Mr. Vilhm over - the painting that he'd selected was one that Brian had chosen - and the artist really wanted to thank the AdMan for his input.

But, instead of his tall dark and handsome room mate, all Justin found were silent rooms and hundreds of little yellow sticky notes plastered up all over everything in the apartment.

'Take off your shoes', was the first reminder Justin saw - this one posted on the door itself.

Everywhere he went after that, there was another offensive and demeaning note: 'Don't leave dishes/food on coffee table'. 'Dont leave dishes/food on dining table'. 'Wipe off kitchen counters when done'. 'Put all food away in fridge after eating'. 'Put dirty clothes in hamper - NOT on floor'. 'Hang up wet towels.' And, most humiliating of all, 'Remember to flush!'

Justin got angrier and angrier with every note he read. He pulled every one he found off and waded them all in a big heap.

The last, and most incendiary, sticky note was left on Justin's pillow: 'If you wake me up tomorrow (Sunday) before noon, you WILL fucking regret it, Princess!'

"Oh yeah? Well, we'll fucking see about that, Mr. Clean!" the irate and determined, big-blond-ball-of-payback announced with an evil grin.

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

Brian sloshed his way home sometime after 3:00 am. He’d spent a good amount of time in the backroom of the club he’d visited. The guys had been only so-so at this new place. He’d gotten blown a couple times and even found one okay ass to fuck, but there wasn’t anyone there he’d felt worthy of the full Brian Kinney take-home experience. He still hadn’t found a place he liked as much as his old favorite club back in Pittsburgh - Babylon. Oh well, that just meant he'd have to keep trying more bars and clubs and guys until he found the perfect fit.

While he was trying to squint at his keys in the underlit hallway in order to find the right one, Brian noticed that there was a new sticky note on the front door. It wasn’t the one he’d left for Justin earlier. As soon as he found the correct key and pushed open the door, he pulled off the little note and brought it inside to read. He flipped on the ceiling lamp and then examined the new note.

'I refuse to take off my shoes in my own home. Fuck your Shoe Basket!'

Well, apparently his little Princess Justin was feeling feisty. Brian looked over and noted that the Shoe Basket clearly was not in its accustomed place next to the door. This wouldn’t do. Brian was going to have to have a talk with the boy. Then, Brian saw the rest of the messy apartment and started to get slightly more pissed off.

On the coffee table was an empty styrofoam 'Cup o Noodles' bowl and a plate with a mostly eaten sandwich. Next to the food detritus was another yellow sticky note that read: 'Don't leave annoying notes on the coffee table.'

On the dining table, there was a pile of books and papers along with two empty beer bottles. The note here read: 'Don't leave annoying notes on the dining table.

Brian went into the kitchen next and saw the loaf of bread had been left out on the counter along with a dirty knife, a jar of mayo and the packaging from the Cup o Noodles. Underneath the mess, Brian found another note that read: 'Bite Me!' And, next to that, drawn directly on the tile with drying ketchup, was a scrawled cursive 'Asswipe!'

"Childish, immature and infantile, Princess," Brian said aloud, a little pissed off but just drunk enough still to see the humor in it.

Brian put the food away but didn't bother cleaning anything else. He was more intrigued by the retaliatory notes. He wondered what he'd find elsewhere in the once again messy apartment.

Down the length of the hallway, there were several heaps of dirty clothing. On the walls above, were a dozen or so randomly place yellow stickies. Each of these new notes showed a caricature of a face sticking out its tongue, thumbing its nose, blowing raspberries or making other rude gestures. One little drawing was a perfect rendition of Justin's own hand giving Brian 'the bird'. Another showed the boy 'mooning' the reader. The whole display was rude, aggravating and completely juvenile. It also made Brian chuckle and officially declare Justin to be an 'Annoying Twat'.

In the bathroom, the boy had somewhere scrounged up a tube of lipstick that he'd used to write, 'Fuck You' along with a little smiley face, on the mirror. All the towels had been pulled off the rack and thrown onto the floor sopping wet. And, the piece de resistance: the former 'Shoe Basket' was now perched on the back of the toilet, filled with all of Brian's prior sticky notes and there were two new stickies posted on the opened lid of the toilet. The first read, 'Target Practice' and the second had a quick caricature drawing of Justin tossing one of Brian's stickies into the toilet bowl and pissing on it with a ridiculously large and stupid grin on his face.  Of course he hadn't flushed the toilet either.

Amusement finally winning out over anger, Brian broke out laughing at the silly cartoon. It certainly looked like this twink had a mind of his own, not to mention a quirky sense of humor. Brian would have to rethink his training techniques.

But not that night. Brian had a try at the Target Practice game himself, chuckling all the time, then headed off to bed. Before he could lay his head down, though, he discovered one last sticky note - this one resting on his pillow. ‘Don’t wake me up in the middle of the night and I’ll let you sleep as late as you want, Stud! Sweet Dreams, Justin’.

Brian fell asleep quickly after that. He had a smile on his face and his mind was full of quirky young blonds and all the ways he could punish them for their naughtiness.

Chapter 7 - Slob and Snob.

Luckily, neither of the residents of apartment 6B had to be anywhere early for a change and they both slept in rather late that first Sunday morning. Justin was desperate for the sleep - it had been a really atrocious week for the boy and having a roomie with late night trick issues hadn’t helped. He was still asleep when Brian knocked lightly on his door at around ten am.

“Good morning my little Miss Sunshine,” Brian intoned, his manner still a bit snarky but with a hint of cheerful humor leaking through. “I thought I’d take this opportunity to wake YOU up today and show you the way it’s SUPPOSED to be done.” Brian pushed the door open wider and backed through with a large tray in his hands.

“See. . .  first of all there are no overly loud sounds. That’s key to waking your target softly and not antagonizing him. Second, I come baring breakfast options and, even more importantly, fresh, hot coffee. And, you’ll note that I didn’t rip open your curtains, thereby blinding you with sunlight. I’m also not being too overly cheerful or annoyingly sweet because I understand that sometimes my target may not be a morning person and too much cheerfulness early in the morning might make him a bit grouchy. Any of this making an impact on you, Princess?”

“Hmmm, maybe,” Justin grinned as he slid over in the bed to give Brian a spot to sit on the edge of the mattress. “Are you sure about the lack of loud music or alarms? That was my favorite part. You should have seen the panicked look on your face. It was very amusing. . . for me at least.”

“I’m definitely sure about that, Sunshine. I wasn’t amused at all,” Brian confirmed as he passed over a mug of coffee to the younger man who was still swathed in a sheet and propped up against the pillows.  

Brian grabbed his own coffee off the tray and made himself comfortable lying across the foot of the bed. The two men sat quietly sipping at their drinks for several companionable moments. Brian eventually offered up a plate of croissants, which Justin took with a thankful nod. Brian merely picked at the other pastry still waiting on the tray.

“Now that you’re sufficiently placated with caffeine and food, should we discuss your disrespectful responses to my helpful little sticky notes?” Brian inched into the topic he wanted to pursue.

“Sure, why not?” Justin agreed amiably, although he wasn’t about to cave on this issue or any other. “I thought your notes were condescending and rude. I replied accordingly. You’re not my mother, Brian and I don’t want to be ordered around like a kid. So, I think it’s best that you just keep your little notes to yourself. Issue solved!”

“No. . .  not exactly, Princess. Issue NOT solved until we figure out how to get YOU to pick up after your slobby ass. I agreed to let you stay here because you didn’t have anywhere else to go, but I refuse to live in a rubbish heap. So, I think we need some rules.”

“Okay,” Justin agreed with a wicked, condescending smile. “Rule #1 - Don’t wake ME up in the middle of the night to deal with your tricks. Rule #2 - Don’t leave sticky notes all over telling me what to do. And, Rule #3 - Stop calling me Princess! How does that sound?”

“Fine, Sunshine. But I’ve got a few of my own,” Brian gave him back an equally facetious smile. “Rule #4 - Pick up your shit - I’m not your fucking maid. And, how about Rule #5 - Try and be a little grateful when somebody does something nice for you like cleaning up your shithole of an apartment or bringing you breakfast!”

Brian angrily tossed the uneaten piece of his roll onto the tray and stalked out of the room, not sure where the conversation had derailed since he hadn’t come in with the intent of starting an argument. Unfortunately, that exasperating little twat seemed to just push his buttons. ‘Fine,’ Brian thought, ‘if the little Princess . . . if Sunshine doesn’t want to play nice, then I can play hard ball too!’

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

*Bang, bang, bang* The sound of something large and wooden woke Justin from a very nice dream he’d been having about a dark-haired man who . . .  *Bang, bang, bang, bang* The noise kept pounding through the wall adjacent to his bed. He tried pounding back on the wall, which of course happened to be the wall dividing his bedroom from Brian’s. All that accomplished was increasing the volume of the *Bang, bang, banging*, as if Brian was doing it intentionally. Justin picked up a notebook and a marker off his bedside table and walked directly into Brian’s room.

As expected, Brian was entertaining a guest in his room. This time it was another beefy type, but black this time with lovely dark skin and his head shaved closely. Apparently Brian must really go for the screamer-type too, because this one was also chanting the standard Kinney-Trick phrase, ‘Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Fuck me. Fuck me. . . .’ Justin briefly wondered if there wasn’t something just a little more creative that they could say in the throes of passion. But, whatever, it wasn’t his trick, so what did he care.

Brian smirked at the artist when he came in the door, but didn’t stop ramming into the rear of the man that was bracing his hands against the headboard of Brian’s bed. This, obviously, accounted for the *bang, bang, bang*. Justin pulled a chair out of the corner and positioned it so he could sit comfortably in the center of the room with a good view of the entertainment. He sat down and, after surveying the scene thoughtfully for a couple of minutes, he started scribbling in the notebook he’d brought along. After a few seconds, he stopped writing, turned the notebook around and held it up so that Brian could see what he’d drawn on the paper.

‘6.5’ written in very large numerals was all that was on the paper.

“What the fuck is 6.5?” Brian couldn’t help but ask even as he repositioned his trick for better thrusting access. ”My dick is a lot longer than 6.5 inches, Sunshine.”

“No, no, Brian. That was just points out of ‘10’," Justin explained in a studious voice. “You get a few points knocked off for being sloppy - the banging into the wall without a good stable purchase is very ineffective - and the judges really aren’t impressed by the lackluster dialogue. Mr. Trick here isn’t really showing very much creativity. I’m sure he can come up with something other than ‘Oh, yeah’ or ‘Fuck me’. Thank you for participating, but I don’t think you’ll make the Olympic team this year, Mr. Kinney. Sorry. Better luck next time! Maybe you’d have more luck in the one-handed freestyle competition instead?”

Brian almost lost his rhythm at that little quip and couldn’t help a small smile from breaking out across his face as Justin replaced the chair and left the room. But, Brian was, after all, a professional, so he couldn’t just leave it there. He turned back to his task and quickly finished off both himself and the trick in less than five minutes. Then, he swatted the man on the rear, told him to fuck off and tossed his clothes at him.

As he rinsed off in the shower after closing the door behind the trick, Brian finally let himself laugh a little at the pesky little twink that just refused to give in. He was irritating and pissed him off but . . .  you had to respect that fucking attitude. ‘One-handed freestyle', Brian laughed out loud at that one. The boy certainly wasn’t a dullard. And, he was certainly a challenge. Brian pictured him again with this long messy, tangled blond hair and the sleep marks still on his cheek where his pillow left a crease in his skin, holding up that stupid notebook score pad. There was just something about the kid that was. . . he refused to think of it as ‘adorable’, but there was just something . . .

Before Brian really knew what was happening, he found himself working on some moves for the one-handed freestyle competition himself, his soapy hand stroking and working at his cock as visions of a certain blond wisecracker took over his imagination.

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

Justin regretted being quite so implacable when Brian had kindly brought him breakfast in bed and tried to start a conversation about their respective issues with living together. He admitted to himself that he had a pretty sharp tongue and what he’d said had come out a bit too harsh. Of course, he also realized that the little show with the headboard banging trick the night before had been meant to teach him a lesson, and he wasn’t thrilled with Brian’s methods of retaliation. But, Justin was willing to concede that he was a bit of a slob.

So, starting first thing Monday morning, Justin vowed to try to be a little bit neater. He could try to keep his stuff in his own room and not leave food or clothing out. It really wasn’t THAT much effort to accommodate Brian a little. However, he wasn’t ready to let Brian completely off the hook, either. So, he made sure that he had picked up his dinner fixings from the night before and that he hadn’t left clothing on the bathroom floor when he took his shower. But, he couldn’t help jerking Brian’s chain just a little - so he intentionally left his sneakers on the kitchen counter when he finished his breakfast.

Satisfied with that little show of civil disobedience, Justin was about to head into Brian’s room to wake him up in response to the midnight banging trick - he was NEVER going to concede anything on that point, no matter how many breakfasts in bed Brian tried to bribe him with - when the inveterate lothario himself emerged from his bedroom. Brian was already showered, coiffed and dressed to the nines in a spotless, perfectly tailored charcoal grey suit. Justin figured the designer suit had to have cost more than his half of the rent for the next six months. If Justin had thought Brian looked good in casual jeans and a tee, he was stunned at how gorgeous the man looked in a business suit.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Brian greeted him pleasantly. “Sorry to ruin all your fun - I know you were probably planning something very loud and stimulating for my wake up call this morning - but I’m afraid I have to get to work bright and early today. First day, you know. Got to make a good first impression and all.”

“Uh. . . um. . . yeah,” Justin stuttered, still too busy ogling the delight that was Brian Kinney in full business regalia.

“You’re not very eloquent this morning, Sunshine,” Brian teased and playfully bumped his shoulder as he passed. “I did leave you some coffee - I think you could use it. Later!”

Brian was out of the apartment before Justin had managed to pull himself together enough to voice a coherent sentence. Justin managed a weak “Good luck” as Brian was pulling the door closed behind him but that was all he could think up on the spot like that. Justin cringed at how lame he’d sounded and then shook it off. He was going to be late for class if he didn’t stop worrying about Brian Kinney and get on with his own life.

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

Brian’s first day at Kennedy & Collins was long and more than a little aggravating. He’d known that they would think of him as a newbie since he hailed from a nowhere place like Pittsburgh. However, he didn’t think they’d offered him the job, which came with a decent-enough salary, just so he could follow someone else around all day. Brian knew his ideas were ten times better than anything he’d seen today, but the dweeb they’d asked to ‘show him the ropes’ hadn’t listened to a single suggestion he’d made. Brian considered the whole day to have been a monumental waste of time. He wasn’t going to put up with this much longer. Instead, he was already thinking through some edgier, fresher marketing ideas that he could put together on his own time and then show to the bosses as an alternative to The Dweeb’s piles of shit. Brian's personal timetable gave him one month - two at the outside - before he wanted to be moving up to the senior executive’s floor. He’d do whatever it took to reach that goal.

It was already after seven before he made it back to the apartment. Brian was exhausted and hungry and he just wanted to get some down time after the frustrating day. He considered it a very good sign when he didn’t see any rude notes from Justin on the door and noticed a pair of sneakers in the Shoe Basket next to the entrance. Hopefully the little twat wasn’t going to give him too much shit tonight.

“Hey, Brian,” Justin shouted down the hall from his room as soon as the noise of the front door shutting alerted him that his roomie was home. “I got some take out chinese. There’s plenty left for you in the fridge if you want some. Help yourself.”

“Thanks, Sunshine,” Brian hollered back, grateful that food was near at hand.

About five minutes later, Brian appeared in the doorway to Justin’s room, holding out the dirtiest, holiest pair of old sneakers imaginable. “I think you might have misplaced these, Justin,” Brian said, tossing the shoes directly at the ginning young blond. “Just FYI - shoes do NOT go on the kitchen counters, Sunshine.” Brian said, his voice dripping with fake sincerity.

“Really? Hmmmm, whaddaya know?” Justin played the dumb blond card. “It’s true that you really DO learn something new everyday, isn’t it?”

“Cute, Sunshine, but I don’t think you pull off the airhead thing very well,” Brian commented dryly as he turned away and headed back out to the main room. “That mischievous little sparkle in your eyes gives you away every time.” Brian’s little huffing laugh carried back into Justin’s room. “Thanks for the chinese food, twat!”

“You’re welcome, Brian,” Justin replied, already busy thinking up what he could do next to annoy the unrufflable Brian Kinney.

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

Over the next few weeks those old sneakers found their way into a truly remarkable number of places where they should not have been. They were found at various times on every single table or countertop in the entire apartment. They sometimes hid under cushions or amid books and papers. They’d visited the bookcase and several of the kitchen cupboards. Sometimes they were separated - like when only one shoe at a time would fit in the medicine cabinet over the bathroom sink and the other had to sit all by it’s lonesome on the countertop until Brian found them and reunited the pair. One time they were tucked away inside Brian’s desk drawer in a file labeled “Nasty Dirty Twink Shoes”. Another time they were happily snuggled together under the blankets on Brian’s pillow.

Brian was amused by the Twink’s ingenuity even while he remained slightly pissed off whenever the shoes ended up someplace especially inappropriate. It had become a game that they played. After a while, Brian actually found himself in the cab on the ride home from work every day looking forward to finding where the travelling sneakers might show up this time. A couple times they had been so well hidden it had taken him more than a day to find the little buggers. He kind of liked the ongoing, although ridiculously silly, little game.

That’s not to say that Justin had miraculously, overnight, amended all his slobbish ways. Brian admitted that the boy HAD been making an effort lately. Most of the time he remembered to pick up his books and clothes. He sometimes remembered to clean up his dirty dishes. However, his efforts at cleanliness were fickle at best. Whenever the young artist got caught up in one of his many projects - drawing, painting, even, one time, a clay sculpture that took over the entire dining table - he would simply forget everything except his art. That’s when Brian would find piles of icky used tissues left all over the coffee table, the milk left out overnight on the kitchen counter or art supplies, sketchbooks, paint, charcoal, pens, pencils and everything else, strewn all over everything.

And, besides Justin’s general messiness, Brian discovered that the boy had more than a few disgusting personal habits that made the neat and tidy man cringe. First of all, no matter how much Brian protested, Justin kept neglecting to flush the toilet. When Brian had finally had enough and confronted him about it, Justin shrugged him off, arguing that it was a waste of water and then gave some offhand comment about, ‘If it’s brown, flush it down. If it’s yellow, let it mellow’. Fuck that! Brian wasn’t letting anything yellow mellow in his bathroom, no matter how much fucking water it used.

Justin also had the tiresome habit of blowing his nose in the shower. That, in and of itself, wasn’t that bad, but since Justin rarely took the initiative to scrub down the shower, Brian was often left looking at the drying, crusty goobers that his roomie had left on the shower walls or the curtain. It made Brian’s skin crawl. He simply couldn’t get into the shower until he’d scrubbed it down and hopefully disinfected the entire thing every time.

But, beyond even the travelling sneakers, the randomly chaotic artistically-induced messes and the occasional foul finds in the shower, what irritated Brian more than anything else was the reeking, sandy, uncontainable mess that was otherwise known as the cat’s litter box.

Justin was fairly diligent at scooping up any large deposits the cat made and flushing them quickly, so that part of the mess wasn’t too horrible. And, the box itself was tucked away in the bathroom, mostly hidden between the vanity and the toilet. Unfortunately, though, the mess that the cat made in and around it rarely stayed hidden in the box. Brian now understood completely why the stuff you put in the box was called ‘litter’ - it was always strewn all over their house, littering the bathroom floor and sometimes halfway down the hall. It was constantly crunching under his feet when he walked over to the john. The nasty stuff even seemed to sometimes get caught in the long-haired cat’s fur and it would stay there until, at some distant time and place, the cat would groom himself and incidentally drop litter pellets wherever he happened to be at the time. Just thinking that the fuzzball was trailing little bits and pieces of feces covered litter all over the house all the time and leaving samples of it on every surface he walked on - which was, of course, every single surface in the whole apartment - made Brian shudder.

Before the second week of his stay in New York was even started, Brian had vowed to fix the litter box problem or else find a way to get rid of the cat without Justin finding out. The problem involved hours of intensive research both online and in person at several of the local pet supply emporiums. Brian was leery of all the products that claimed to be the latest and greatest - he was in the business himself, after all - and instead demanded personal testimony from users of the products before he would accept the marketers’ claims. Finally, after an exhaustive effort, Brian found the perfect, tasteful and efficient solution.

Justin came home that night to discover that the whole corner of the bathroom where the clothes hamper used to live was now taken up by a large new free-standing cupboard. At one end of the wooden box, was a large square opening with a carpeted little ramp leading up from the floor. The bottom edge of the hole was equipped with a metal strip that held up bristles like a brush which was lying on its back. Justin pulled open the cupboard doors and discovered that it housed a vaguely dangerous looking gadget. It was built somewhat like a standard cat box but it was clearly mechanical, since it had a long cord that snaked out through a little hole in the back and which was plugged into the wall outlet next to the sink.

You could see something cat-litter-like strewn on the bottom of the pan, but it wasn’t the usual, cheapy-litter-stuff Justin normally used. Whatever it was smelled fresh and vaguely outdoorsy. Justin decided to push the big red button on the front of the machine and see what it would do. Immediately, the motors inside started to rumble and grind and then the front of the machine flipped open and a little rake-like scooper thing popped out and moved swiftly through the litter. At the end of the sweep, the rake tipped up and dumped it’s contents - this time there wasn’t anything to scoop, but you got the point - into a plastic lined container inside the machine. Then the rake folded itself back up and the lid clicked closed again. Justin assumed that the little drawer on the side of the machine was where you pulled out the doodoo container later. It was brilliant but a bit scary and rather noisy. And, it was exactly the kind of thing that Brian Kinney would spend oodles of money on rather than deal with sweeping up the cat litter every so often.

“What do you think,” both Brian and Winston were standing behind him watching as Justin shut the cupboard doors after his inspection. “Pretty cool, right? It’s got a motion sensor so it does it’s thing automatically about three minutes after the cat leaves the box. And this little brush thingy on the door helps make sure that there’s no litter stuck to the cat’s fur. I also got the type of litter they recommended - it clumps better and doesn’t have as much dust. Your fuzzball has already done his business in it a couple of times and doesn’t seem to mind it. So . . . “

Justin wanted to laugh at the look of eager excitement on Brian’s face. He clearly loved his new toy and thought it was the best invention since electricity. He truly was just a big kid, so keen to get approbation for his discovery, hanging there waiting for Justin’s verdict. It was too adorable.

“It’s very, very neat, Brian,” Justin admitted and watched an unguarded little smile light up Brian’s face.

After that, Brian spent at least ten more minutes extolling all of the contraption’s wondrous attributes. Justin nodded and looked wherever Brian pointed and then they high-fived like a couple of adolescents when the cat decided to actually use the thing. Winston appeared a little startled when both men whooped excitedly just as he was crawling over the brush equipped door, which did remove almost all of the litter on the cat’s body as he went past. In the end, though, Winston decided his people were just being their normal silly selves and it was nothing to get worried about so he went on his kitty way. The two grown men proceeded to declare the ‘LitterMaid’ a resounding success and decided to have a beer together to celebrate.

Chapter 8 - Snapshots.

Friday, November 22: The traveling sneakers were in a ziploc bag in the freezer. Brian hadn't seen them in a couple days and had thought maybe Justin was giving up on the game. He was surprised to find them when he pulled open the freezer door to get some ice for his usual after work scotch.

<><><><><>

Saturday, November 23:  Brian was in his room with a trick when Justin got home from a night out with Daphne and her new boyfriend, a drummer in a jazz band called 'Younkers'. Nobody knew what the name of the band meant - not even the drummer. Since Brian's bedroom door was wide open, Justin invited himself in and watched while Brian went at the younger, shorter version of Brian himself. Justin thought that maybe he should comment on the psychological significance of Brian screwing himself, but then decided that the men were far too involved to find the thought interesting. Instead, Justin sat and munched noisily on the bag of goldfish crackers he'd grabbed as soon as he got home. When the trick started looking around and not paying attention to Brian's valiant efforts to get him off, Justin threw goldfish at the guy until Brian ordered him to stop.  

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

Sunday, November 24: Brian woke Justin up just before 11:00 am and demanded that the younger man vacuum his room. He'd dragged in the brand new, top of the line vacuum he'd purchased the week before and stood there glaring until Justin pried himself out of bed and ran the vacuum cursorily around the room. As soon as Brian nodded that it was sufficient, Justin switched off the big noisemaker and collapsed back into bed.

That afternoon, when he got back from running errands, Justin discovered Brian sacked out on the couch with the TV loudly spouting some inane drivel and Winston perched happily on Brian's stomach. The cat looked up at his person and purred extra loudly but didn't get up. Brian shifted slightly in his sleep and his hand automatically came up to steady the cat. Justin tip-toed the rest of the way inside and eased the door shut so as not to disturb the adorable pair.  

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

Tuesday, November 26:  Brian was awakened when something heavy landed on his chest. He startled awake to find the fuzzball sitting there with some kind of large wiggling bug dangling from between his kitty jowls. As soon as he noticed that Brian was awake, Winston dropped his prize onto Brian's bare chest, eager to share his treat with the New Person. Brian screeched like a five year old girl and launched himself and Winston out of the bed, swiping frantically at his chest to make sure that the bug - whatever the fuck it was - wasn't clinging to his body.

Justin, who'd been scared awake by the manic shrieking came running in trying to find out who was being killed. It took him quite a while to calm Brian down enough to figure out exactly what was going on. Brian refused to let Justin leave until the gargantuan bug was found and destroyed - Brian was understandably concerned that it was waiting for him in his bed. After the bed was completely stripped and everything nearby had been thoroughly searched, Brian was finally satisfied that whatever the creature was it was gone now. After they remade the bed together, laughing at how silly they'd both looked running around naked trying to find this killer bug, they discovered Winston sitting out in the hallway happily munching on one leg of the big cricket he'd bravely killed for Brian.   

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

Wednesday, November 27:  Justin didn't get home from work until well after ten pm. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving and the next day, Black Friday, was the start of the huge Christmas Sale at the arts & crafts store where Justin worked. He'd stayed late tonight to help get the store stocked and ready for the frantic shoppers that would be hitting the store starting at 8:00 am on Friday. Justin was also scheduled for a ten hour shift on Friday, which he was happy to get because he desperately needed the overtime money.

As he dragged his tired body into the apartment, Justin discovered that Brian was already there and had his latest trick bent over the back of the couch. Justin wearily trudged past the busy pair, grabbed a beer from the kitchen and then returned to the armchair kitty-corner from the couch. The young man sat and sipped at his beer and tried to wait patiently for the big 'Hooray' ending.

When it looked like it might take longer than he'd anticipated, Justin raised his hand to get Brian's attention and then calmly asked, "how much longer do you think you'll be, Brian?"

Brian smirked at the boy and then looked down at the pretty little ass and the long muscular back of the guy he'd brought home with him tonight - this one was another of what Justin had mentally started to refer to as Brian's 'Type A' trick, which meant he was the beefy, gym-bunny kind. Brian shrugged as he continued to ram the willing man even harder into the back of the couch. "Not more than five minutes, I'd guess."

"Okay. Carry on!" Justin replied amicably and then relaxed back into the chair with his beer, switching on the television and flipping through channels while Brian finished up.

After the trick was gone, Brian went and retrieved his own beer as well as a second for the blond. The big man sat on the couch and waved the extra beer enticingly until Justin was tempted into getting up and joining Brian on the couch. As soon as Justin sat down, Brian's arm seemed to naturally curve up around the smaller man's shoulders, pulling the boy's tired body closer to his own. After a couple more minutes, Winston jumped up on the couch and draped himself sideways across both their laps. Eventually Brian found an old movie that he wanted to watch and they all simply sat there resting together, the cat napping and Justin dozing off and on against Brian's strong shoulder, until the movie was over.

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

Thanksgiving Morning. Thursday, November 28: Justin momentarily panicked when he woke up and saw that the clock read 11:13. Then, about twenty seconds later, he remembered it was Thanksgiving and he had the whole day off to loll around and eat and study. Well, maybe not too much studying. But, God it felt good to sleep in and not have anywhere he needed to be. It had been way too long since he’d had a day completely to himself.

Justin took his time stretching and rolling around until he was completely awake. Then he crawled slowly out of bed, intending to head for the shower before he called Daphne. As he got to his feet, Justin noticed that he was wearing his briefs and, for some odd reason, his socks. Normally he slept in the buff unless it was cold and then he’d bundle up in sweats. He never kept his socks on though - that was weird. And, even more weird now that he thought back on it, he didn’t remember going to bed last night at all. Trying to clear his head as he shambled off towards the shower, all he could remember was sitting on the couch, drinking a beer and watching some old black and white movie. . . With Brian. . . Well, that explained, he thought, how he made it to bed and maybe even why he was wearing his socks and briefs.

He was still thinking about Brian as he was standing under the showerhead and letting the warm water drip down his body. It had felt kind of nice, just sitting there with the other man. Brian’s arm around him. Resting his head comfortably against that big, warm body while they shared a couple of beers and a movie. It had been a while since Justin had spent an evening like that. Even back when Connor had still been here, they hadn’t spent much time just hanging out together like that. Usually Justin was either working or studying and, on the rare nights when he’d been home in the past few months, Connor had usually been out at acting classes, parties with his acting crowd or who-knew-what. Now that he thought about it a little, Justin realized that he and Connor had never had very many of those nights, in spite of the fact that they’d been going out together for almost a year. Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing that Connor was gone?

Justin wasn’t sure what he thought about Brian anymore. In the barely two weeks since the man had moved in, even with their different schedules and how busy Justin still was, he’d spent more time with the tall brunet than he’d spent with Connor the entire last month they’d been technically living together. Brian definitely had his faults. The OCD cleaning thing was hugely annoying. He still bristled every single time Brian yelled at him to pick something up. It felt like being back home with his mother always nagging him.

But, the man at least seemed to have a sense of humor about it all. Brian hadn’t said anything about the ongoing travels of his grodie old tennis shoes. Every time Brian found them in some ridiculous place he just tossed them back at Justin with a smile or a joke. He’d never once got outright angry, even when Justin had put the shoes in his bed or on the kitchen counter. So, maybe Justin could live with the neatness thing. Maybe.

Plus, Brian was a sight for sore, sex-starved, lonely eyes. Whoooo! Justin could spend hours just looking at that tall, svelte, well proportioned body. He looked fantastic every morning when he passed Justin on the way to work in one of his many well tailored suits. He looked pretty good even in casual jeans and a pull over. And, well, he looked really, really, really good in nothing at all. . .  Justin had gotten plenty of chances to watch Brian Kinney with absolutely no clothes on at all  - between the tricking and the way Brian liked to prance around the apartment in his altogether all the time. Not that Justin objected in the least to Brian’s penchant for nudity. On Brian it was a look that definitely worked.

Too bad it wasn’t working all that well for Justin. The youth couldn’t really help it if he kept getting hot and bothered by the sight of a naked Brian Kinney constantly strutting around the apartment. It had been twenty whole days now since Justin had last gotten laid and he was feeling the strain. So what if Connor hadn’t been all that emotionally available in the recent past - at least his body had been available whenever Justin had needed it. Justin tried again and again to tell himself that he didn’t need that - what he needed was to concentrate on school and work and his art. Boyfriends were just a distraction that he didn’t have time for right now. Right?

Standing in the warm shower, though, soaping his long-neglected dick, Justin couldn’t help but think of all those tricks that he’d seen Brian with over the past couple weeks. Brian had early on explained that he didn’t ‘DO’ boyfriends or relationships or any of that shit. He said it was easier and much less messy to just find a trick when you needed to get your needs met. Justin agreed with all Brian had said in principle. But, it wasn’t Justin’s style to go out every night, pick up random guys and have tons of anonymous sex. He really wished it WAS his style. God, right now he really, really, really wished it was his style. His dick was trying its best to convince him that was exactly the style he needed to adopt so that it could get what it needed. Unfortunately, Justin was still Justin regardless of what his dick wanted. Justin was a bit of an introvert and, while you could never call him shy, he didn’t have the time, the energy or the desire to ‘make the scene’ the way Brian did.

So, instead of going out with Brian to clubs, Justin was standing there alone in his shower on Thanksgiving morning, jerking himself off to memories of his roommate having fabulous sex. There was truly something very wrong with this picture. And, the closer Justin came to getting off, the more often the image of Brian fucking some random trick seemed to morph into visions of Brian fucking him. Yes, there was definitely something wrong about this . . .  but, as he felt his balls tighten and the first strings of cum shooting out to mix with the shower water streaming down towards his feet, Justin easily forgot exactly what it was that was so wrong.   

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

Brian was still only half awake when he heard the shower coming on next door. His sleepy brain conjured up delightful pictures of a dripping wet, warm and welcoming young blond boy who was waving to him to join in the shower. Brian was already deep in the fantasy or dream or whatever it was, his hand automatically finding its way down to his crotch, before he consciously realized that the face on the nubile blond youth was that of one Justin Taylor. Immediately - after he came, of course, and when he was again capable of rational thought - alarm bells started to go off inside Brian’s head.  

‘What the fuck am I doing’, Brian thought as he grabbed a couple tissues and cleaned himself off. ‘I do not need to be jacking off to thoughts of that little twat. He’s way too young for me and I’m way too busy right now to be thinking about some silly twink. Damn Taylor and his Little Miss Sunshine shit and his fucking sneakers everywhere all the time. I do not need that crap. Pull yourself together, Kinney.’

Brian Kinney jumped immediately out of bed, trying to reinforce his resolve to banish Justin from his thoughts with action. Only, halfway out of his room, Brian remembered that it was Thanksgiving and the office was closed and he really had nowhere to go and nothing to do today. So much for action. Now what?

Brian figured that coffee would help - as far as he was concerned, coffee always helped no matter what the problem was. So, he started the coffee maker and hoisted his ass up to sit on the kitchen counter until it was ready. He would figure out what to do with himself for the rest of the day AFTER he’d had a sufficient amount of caffeine.

“Okay, so you freak out when my old shoes are sitting on the counter and yet you apparently have no problem with your naked ass sitting up there?” Justin surprised him by swinging open the kitchen door and calling him out.

“I know where my ASS has been,” Brian shot back with a smirk, “and it’s a lot cleaner than those shoes of yours. I have no idea where you’ve been or what you’ve walked in with those filthy sneakers.”

“I think my sneakers have probably seen a lot fewer miles than your ass, Stud,” Justin insisted, chuckling at the indignant look his comment put on Brian’s face.

“I’ll have you know that my ASS isn’t the part of me that gets around,” Brian corrected him emphatically. “That’s only for the privileged few. My cock, on the other hand, is widely touted in more than five states and at least two foreign countries.”

“Oh. Well, excuse me. I guess it’s okay then as long as its only your ass on the kitchen counter and not your dick,” Justin clarified, pulling the carafe out of the coffee maker and filling a mug for himself before Brian could finish his little soliloquy.

“Stupid little twat,” was the only comeback Brain was prepared with before his morning coffee, which elicited nothing more than an additional chuckle from the blond boy as he headed back out of the kitchen.

“Hey, Daph,” Brian heard Justin’s voice speaking from the next room. “Yeah, I’m awake . . . Fuck, yeah, yesterday was brutal. I didn’t get home till after ten. But then Friday will be ten times worse, so I'm not sure why I'm complaining. . . Okay, whenever you’re ready. I’m here and willing to sous chef at your direction, mon capitaine! I laid in an extra supply of eggnog and a brand new bottle of rum for you. See you soon. Bye.”

Brian waited until Justin’s conversation was finished before he headed out of the kitchen. He intended to just saunter on down the hallway to his own room and then get back in bed until he’d decided what to do with his day, but that was probably just too much to hope for. Justin intercepted him only two steps out of the kitchen.

“So, Brian, I was wondering what your plans are for today,” Justin heard himself offering before he was even consciously aware of what he was going to say. “Daphne and I were going to put together our own little Thanksgiving feast of sorts - it’s not exactly what you’d get at Mom’s but we do our best - and you’re welcome to join us. I think this year’s menu is pre-cooked turkey breast, baked potatoes and store-bought dinner rolls, but Daphne said she WAS going to make a homemade pumpkin pie. And I get to be in charge of the eggnog, which means they’ll be light on the ‘egg’ and heavy on the ‘nog’. What do you say?”

“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t want to intrude on your plans,” Brian demurred and started to back away from the frighteningly cheerful young blond.

“Fuck that! You wouldn’t be intruding. I mean, you live here too. Where else are you going to go on Thanksgiving in a city you just moved to?”

“But, it’s last minute and all . . . “ Brian tried again to excuse himself. “Won’t Daphne mind me just showing up, uninvited?”

“Of course not. Daph’s the one who invited herself over here to cook. She’s got two roommates and a kitchen the size of a shoebox. I don’t think their oven even works. She’s been planning on coming over here to bake her pie for months. So what if you being here means I’ll only get two pieces of pie instead of three? I think I’ll survive. Plus, I’ve had Daphne’s pumpkin pie and it’s really good. You should definitely stay and try some.”

“Well, if you’re sure?”

Brian seemed uncharacteristically timid and unsure, so Justin naturally became proportionately more aggressive and insistent. “Of course I’m sure. But, you probably should go get dressed before Daph gets here,” Justin said as he guided Brian down the hall to his room. “She can get a bit. . .  grabby. . . when she’s had a couple eggnogs.”

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

Thanksgiving Afternoon. Thursday, November 28:  Brian, Justin and Daphne were all sprawled out on top of each other on the couch, sipping at their umteenth eggnog and giggling. They’d eaten their pre-cooked, processed turkey breast and potatoes. Justin had surprised them all by making a pretty decent ‘au jus’ sauce to go with the turkey instead of the usual gravy. Daphne’s pie had turned out to be absolutely perfect and they were all sated from more than enough food and far too much alcohol.

After dinner Brian had produced his stash of pot and they’d toked up enough to get hungry for seconds. While they were eating again, Justin had somehow convinced them that they HAD to watch ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ on television, but they’d been too busy talking and making fun of the movie to hear much of the dialog even before the last round of eggnog. Now, they were just lolling around and giggling, talking and enjoying their free evening.

"Shit, this is just sooooo much better than all those Thanksgivings I always had to endure as a kid," Daphne announced as she snuggled in tighter between Brian and Justin on the couch. "Both my mom and dad have these huge extended families and everybody still lives in Pittsburgh. My Dad has three siblings and my Mom has five. Plus, everyone in the family, well at least all the women, seem to live till they're a hundred. So, on Easter we always had to have all of Mom's family over for a big Easter brunch. And, on Thanksgiving, we had my Dad's entire family over."

"Those were always the two longest days of the year, but I think Thanksgiving was worse because Dad's family were all total drunks. Grams and Aunt Peach would show up at, like, dawn and start cooking with Mom nonstop for hours. Gramps and all the uncles would watch endless hours of football and get half-drunk before noon. Most of my cousins were either way older than me and refused to acknowledge my existence or were way younger and I was expected to baby sit them. The whole bunch of them would be there pretty much the entire day and then usually my Mom would offer to keep the younger cousins over for the night so my Aunt Virginia, who was a single mom, could get some time off. But then I had to entertain them the rest of the night."

"Oh, poor little Daphy! She had all those cousins to play with. I'm sure it was terrible for you," Justin teased her. "At least you had family to spend time with. My Dad's only brother moved to Arizona or someplace and my Mom's family still all lives in Boston. I had to spend every holiday with my bigot of a father constantly trying to force me to enjoy football. I didn't even have a cousin or two to help distract him."

"Your Dad wasn't a bigot when you were just a kid," Daphne insisted.

"Yes, he was. It just wasn't directed at me until he found out I was gay. But he'd always been the judgmental type," Justin corrected her, sighing at the sad memories.

"How about you, Brian?" Daphne asked in a misguided effort to distract Justin. "What did your family do on Thanksgiving? You got any annoying cousins?"

Brian didn't answer at first. He quickly went through his options to find the least worst alternative: pretend he didn't hear the question and try to change the subject, lie, or . . . tell the truth or at least some bearable portion of it. Brian didn't feel energetic enough to make up a good lie and he didn't think pretending not to hear would work on these two intuitive, bright kids. That left only the truth.

"No. I didn't have any cousins, Daph," Brian's reply seemed hushed and hesitant, which wasn't like him. "Sometimes my mother cooked, but not always. We didn't really have any big tradition or anything." The two sad faces that met his encouraged Brian to try to add a better ending to his story. "But, I usually spent most Thanksgivings over at my friend Mikey's house. His mom, Debbie, loved to cook and there was always way more than we could eat. Plus, Mikey's uncle Vic is gay too and hates watching sports, so there wasn't ever anybody to make us watch football."

"That sounds cool," Daphne replied. And it would have been fine if she'd left it there, but then she just had to ask, "so why didn't you go back there for Thanksgiving?"

"Nothing to go back to anymore," Brian said gruffly with manufactured indifference.

By now, Justin had some experience with Brian's moods and the way the taciturn man would act when something was bothering him. Justin felt it right away when the older man started to get uncomfortable at Daphne's chosen topic. When it looked like Daphne was going to keep asking Brian more questions, an already inebriated Justin did the first thing that came to mind that might deter Daphne's pursuit of the subject - he intentionally spilled the remains of his eggnog on her.

"Shit!" Daphne jumped up off the couch with gooey eggy rum drink dripping down her entire front. "Justin, you klutz! Shit, this stuff is cold."

"I am so sorry, Daph. So sorry. Come with me. I'll get you one of my shirts to change into," Justin said and started to lead the sticky, still-complaining girl off towards his bedroom, winking at Brian as he edged past him.

That impish little wink made Brian bark out one big laugh before he caught himself. Daph shot him a dirty look, thinking of course that Brian was laughing at her drippy condition. Justin rolled his eyes and shook his head but didn't say anything and instead concentrated on hustling Daph away.

The process of getting Daphne washed up and changed into a clean pair of Justin's sweats ended up taking all three of them. Daphne was so sloshed by that point that she could barely manage to sit upright on the toilet while Justin got a wet wash cloth and swabbed at her face and arms. Justin was three sheets to the wind himself, so his cleaning efforts weren't really all that effective. By the time the pair moved into Justin's room to try and find clothing, they were bumbling around and giggling so loudly that Brian was forced to come investigate.

Finally, with Daphne giggling and falling over repeatedly and Justin trying to hold up various parts of her body, Brian managed with difficulty to get a t-shirt on her. He wasn't even going to try for the sweat pants, though. He just scooped the girl up and neatly deposited her into Justin's bed. By this time, Justin had also succumbed to a fit of uncontrollable giggles and Brian had no choice but to pull the boy's clothes off and dump him in the bed next to an already snoring Daphne.

"Hey, Brian, know what?" Justin mumbled through an irrepressible giggle.

"What, Sunshine?" Brian asked as he shut off the lamp on the nightstand.

"You smell nice and you're really warm," Justin said, beaming up at Brian with a huge grin while lying in the bed and looking like some angelic little boy.

"Go to sleep, Sunshine," Brian replied softly and tousled the messy blond hair.

Chapter 9 - Lustful Longings?

Friday, November 29: The alarm went off at 7:00 am on the dot. Justin rolled over without opening his eyes and pulled his head under the blankets with a loud groan. Miraculously, the alarm stopped blaring, causing Justin to sigh in relief and then snuggle back down deeper into the pleasant warmth of the bed. It was even more pleasant a moment later when two strong arms wrapped themselves around Justin and protectively pulled his body closer to a broad, warm chest. Justin luxuriated in the feeling for several minutes while his mind drifted back to full consciousness.

That was when he realized that something just wasn't right with this situation. Justin wasn't completely sure who these strong arms and the nice warm chest belonged to. But, if they belonged to the person he suspected owned them, then Justin really, really wasn't sure what HE was doing in bed with them.

He carefully allowed one eyelid to open up the tiniest bit. It was far too bright outside his eyelids though, and even that small amount of light stabbed into Justin's skull causing his throbbing headache to intensify exponentially. He couldn't hold back a small grunt of pain. In response to the sound, the strong arms squeezed him a little more tightly, bringing more of the body that went along with the broad chest into direct contact with his own. It seemed fortuitous that the arms and chest came with two long legs that twined themselves with his own and a large and even warmer something that seemed to be pressing into Justin's stomach. Then a pleasurable low 'mmmmm' came out of the nice warm chest and the length of hotness down below was pressed into Justin's stomach a little harder. Justin turned his head so that the one eye he'd managed to peel open was pointing in the direction from which all the nice warm feelings were coming.

"B-B-Brian?" Justin acknowledged the man he discovered was attached to the strong arms, the warm chest, the long legs and the hot something pressing into his stomach. "How . . . how did I get here?"

"You stumbled in a couple of hours ago, Sunshine, complaining that Daphne snored too loud. Then you got in bed with me and started snoring yourself like a fucking steam engine," Brian answered with a little chuckle and then squeezed Justin closer again, causing that hard length of hotness between them to twitch a little in pleasure.

Justin sucked in a big gulp of air and pressed his own respectable length of hard hotness back against Brian's hip. "Brian," the youth moaned between panting breaths. Justin closed his eye again and simply revelled in the intense feelings rolling through him.

"Aaarrrghhhh! Justin, please just kill me now before my head explodes!" Daphne tottered into the room, complaining loudly, and then threw herself across the bed with a dramatic moan.

Almost instantly those nice hot spots between the two men's lower parts started to cool. Daphne proceeded to crawl her way up the bed and then insinuate herself between Brian and Justin, laying her head against her long-time friend's chest. Brian quickly disentangled himself and rolled further away from where Daphne was now fixed onto Justin like a limpet.

"I couldn't find your aspirin," Daphne continued to whine. "There were all these bottles and jars of shit but no fucking aspirin. Why did you hide the aspirin, Justin? God, I feel like shit!"

"I'll get you the aspirin, Princess," Brian promised and rolled out of the bed.

Justin and Daphne both watched Brian's hot ass as it jiggled along sexily out the door.

"Nice!" Daphne commented, enjoying her first glimpse of the whole Brian Kinney.

"Yes. He is nice. And he might have been busy being even nicer if you hadn't come barging in here like a complete drama queen, Daph," Justin hissed at her angrily.

"Seriously?" Daph gaped at him and looked like she was about to launch into a full fangirl squee, but Justin slapped his hand across her mouth right as Brian's footsteps reached the door.

"Here you go, lightweight!" Brian said and tossed the bottle of pain meds to Daphne, then turned to the closet and pulled on a pair of jeans. "FYI, it's on the bottom shelf of the medicine cabinet from now on, Princess."

"I am NOT a lightweight!" Daphne was outraged. "I drank just as much as both of you last night."

"Yeah, but you're the only one rolling around and crying like a little girl," Brian teased. "Now, hurry and go get dressed, kiddies. If you're fast like a little bunny I'll take us all out to breakfast before Sunshine has to be off to work. Go on. Shoo!"

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

Saturday, November 30:  Justin and Daphne were sitting on a park bench enjoying a rare sighting of autumn sunlight while Justin ate his lunch and Daphne grilled him endlessly about Brian.

"So he hasn't said anything since?" Daphne asked for about the tenth time.

"No, Daph. I told you. I've barely seen him since then. I worked all day Friday and by the time I got home he was already out. And then, this morning, he was still asleep when I left. So, no, he hasn't said anything about anything," Justin explained. "Besides, I don't think I really want to talk about it. I'm sure it didn't mean anything. It was an accident. We were both half asleep and hungover. It would have been a total mistake. I'm really glad you interrupted when you did."

"That's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard, Jus," Daphne immediately called him on his self-deception. "You can't tell me you aren't attracted to Brian Kinney. I saw your face yesterday morning. I saw your eyes"

"So what? So I'm attracted to him. Who the hell wouldn't be? He's fucking drop-dead gorgeous. That doesn't mean it would be a good idea to sleep with him."

When Daphne started to protest, Justin dropped his sandwich onto the bench and then turned to look at his friend directly. "He's THAT guy Daphne. The super-hot guy you see at the bar. The one you are just dying to hook up with. But then, when you do, it's always over too fast. Then he's gone and even if you see him again someplace he'll never see you because you're old news. I know that guy already, Daph. I've been fucked by that guy before. THAT guy just left me hungry for more. I don't want Brian to end up being that guy for me. I actually like him, you know. I like him as a real person. We actually get along pretty well. But if we fucked, he'd become THAT guy, and then I'd never see BRIAN ever again."

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

Brian hadn’t felt so unsure of himself since he was in high school. It was really pissing him off. Why the fuck did he feel like hiding from the little blond twink? That very concept was NOT Brian Kinney.

But, still . . . He HAD intentionally left the apartment early yesterday evening so that he wouldn’t have to see the lad when he got home from work. And even though he’d been awake for more than an hour, Brian had played possum when the boy had peeked into his room that morning before he left for the gallery. Now, Brian found himself sitting in the coffee shop down the block from his apartment, waiting until he saw the twink come home, and trying to decide when, or if, he should venture home. This was exactly why he’d never enjoyed having a roommate. Or a boyfriend. It was far too complicated.

But the longer Brian waited in the coffee shop, nursing his rapidly cooling cappuchino, the more he was forced to think about what had happened between them yesterday morning. It was uncomfortable. It made Brian feel vulnerable. He really hated it. Brian hated having to actually analyze his feelings. He hated having to feel at all. It was messy and complicated and everything he’d despised about ‘relationships’ since childhood.

But for some unfathomable reason, Brian hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that moment in his bed yesterday morning.

It had taken Brian a long time to fall asleep with the snoring twink in his bed. He wasn’t the soundest sleeper on the best of nights. He never had been. He’d been trained from a young age to sleep lightly so that, if any danger arose, he could wake up immediately and either escape or defend himself. The habit had never left him even though Brian had been living on his own - safe in his own little space - for almost half his life. He was still the consummate insomniac. He’d learned to always tire himself relentlessly with exercise, or self-medicate himself into an uncaring mass, before he headed for bed. It helped stave off the demons. So, when he’d been startled awake in the middle of an REM cycle by the whining twink, it was understandable that it had taken him a long time to get back to sleep.

Somehow he had remembered, even through his semi-drunken haze, that the twink had to be to work by 8:00 am. So Brian had set his alarm even though HE didn’t have to be awake tomorrow at any specific time. This should have been his first clue that something was very wrong, but it didn’t even faze him at the time. And, eventually succumbing to the warm, comforting sensation of having another body next to him in his bed, Brian had finally let himself drift off to sleep.

Only to be awakened by the erotic sensation of a warm, hard body pressed up against him the next morning.

Brian wasn’t exactly a morning person. He didn’t usually wake up all the way until at least his second cup of coffee. And he wasn’t used to waking up next to another man since he usually kicked every trick out as soon as he was done with them. So it was understandable that he’d been a little disoriented by waking up to a warm, nubile, hard, and eager Justin in his bed.

Brian couldn’t help the fact that he woke up pretty much every morning with an abundant quantity of wood between his thighs. He was a young, vigorous, sexually active man with very well developed needs. He could count on one hand the number of mornings he HADN’T woken up with morningwood. He figured it was irrelevant that the twink had been there - he would have been hard no matter who or what had been in his bed.

It had just been pure coincidence that Justin had rolled over right at that particular moment when Brian had been only half awake but fully hard. Brian hadn’t even consciously thought about enveloping the boy in his arms. It just happened. It was a mistake. Brian didn’t do shit like that. Really, he didn’t.

But, Brian DID have to admit that whatever had happened after that moment was more . . .

‘Fuck that!’ Brian thought, he didn’t HAVE to admit anything. So what if he’d felt some ridiculous surge of . . .  something . . . when he’d come to with the boy in his arms and pressed up against him with that fucking ridiculously large cock? Nobody that small should have a cock that fucking large. It was fucking unnatural.

Well, Brian corrected himself, it wasn’t unnatural, just . . .  nicely sized for someone of that stature.

And the little twat had felt so good in his arms, pressed up against him like that, with his cock so hot and hard and . . .

Brian scrubbed at his face with his palms and groaned. He had to get himself together. This was insane. He would not let himself do this. He simply would not let this happen.

Brian took a deep breath and mentally grabbed hold of all his resolve. He got up out of the coffee shop chair and strutted across the street towards his apartment. He could do this. He wasn’t going to cower from some fucking twink. He was Brian Kinney - No Excuses, No Regrets, No Apologies. He simply wouldn’t acknowledge the stupid sentimental emotions he’d felt while holding that annoying little twat. Fuck that! He wouldn’t let the boy chase him out of his own apartment. He shouldn’t be hiding out, afraid to face some mere boy.

Brian’s resolve was solid. He had worked through any incipient sentimentality and was beyond it’s influence. Fuck them all! He wasn’t going to cave in the face of some boy toy. Brian didn’t care about any little blond boy ass. He didn’t care . . .

Brian strode into his apartment with the intention of reestablishing his dominance and his independance.

And his steadfast resolve lasted until the moment when he sauntered confidently into his bedroom and found a dead mouse on his pillow.

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

Justin felt his cell phone buzzing away in his pocket. Since the boss had left the gallery early and there were only two customers still looking at some modernist stuff in the back room, he went ahead and pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. It was a number he didn’t recognize but the area code was from Pittsburgh? That was odd. He decided that he better take it.

“Justin Taylor.”

“Your fuzzball left something dead on my fucking pillow! There’s blood and one of its legs is missing. What the fuck do I do?” Brian’s voice sounded shrill and more than a little panicky.

“Aww. That was so sweet of Winston. He left you a present. You know that means he really likes you.” Justin teased the panic stricken man.

“I don’t care if the monster adores me and wants to grow old together. What does that have to do with leaving carrion in my bed,” Brian was clearly not going to be deterred or amused. “What the fuck do I do with the dead thing, Justin?”

“Well, you could just leave it there and Winston will probably come back and eat it eventually.”

“He’ll eat it in my BED? That’s disgusting! Fuck that!” Brian sounded like he might be sick at the mere thought of such defilement of his favorite piece of furniture.

“Calm down, Brian. I was only joking,” Justin tried to sound reassuring. “Just go find a plastic bag and put the dead thing in there and then throw it in the trash.”

“I’m not touching that . . .  whatever it is. I'm not touching anything near it. In fact, I probably have to burn that pillow after this.”

“You don’t have to touch it. Use the bag to pick it up,” Justin was chuckling at the image he had of a Brian scared of his own pillow.

“This is your fault, Justin. It’s your fucking cat. You get your ass over here and fix this right NOW!” Brian demanded and then ended the call before Justin could reply.

Luckily for the terrorized Stud, the last two gallery patrons came over just then to say goodbye. Since it was only fifteen minutes to closing anyway, Justin decided to lock up and hustle home to save his beleaguered man. Twenty minutes later he rushed into the apartment to find a distraught Brian pacing outside the doorway to his bedroom, looking in every so often, shaking his head and mumbling random comments under his breath. When he saw Justin, there was so much pure relief on his face that Justin could have laughed aloud. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to further traumatize the poor man.

“What took you so fucking long,” Brian was fuming. “The fuzzball tried to get back in here a couple times but I shooed him away. I don’t want him eating that thing in my bed, Justin. What the fuck do we do?”

Justin tried to hide his smile as he went to the kitchen and rifled through the cupboard under the sink until he found a plastic shopping bag. Then, armed with all the necessary implements needed to face this trying situation, the young man bravely returned and stepped through the door prepared to face armageddon. Except armageddon turned out to be only a very tiny little grey mouse, minus one mangled front paw. Justin used the protective plastic bag to pick up the poor dead mouse and then tied the bag closed. He made a nice big show - for Brian’s sake - of holding the bag out away from his body as far as possible and walking very carefully as he carried the dreaded thing out of Brian’s room and out to the garbage shoot in the main hallway of the building. Brian followed behind looking nervous until the bag of mouse was officially thrown down the shoot and they were free of the terrible danger once again.

As they came back into the apartment, Winston was sitting in the doorway waiting for them. The cat was pissed off that the people had taken away his mouse. He’d been saving that for a light snack after dinner. He only left it on the New Person’s pillow to be polite. Maybe the New Person would like to share? But no. Stupid people took the treat away. See if he left that New Person any more yummy treats! Winston gave the two people the most withering kitty look he could manage and then stalked off to brood in silence.

Brian collapsed onto the couch, relieved and thoroughly exhausted after that harrowing experience. Of course, he still had to deal with the contaminated pillow, but now that the body was gone, that would be relatively easy. He sighed and let himself relax back against the couch cushions.

Justin followed the big guy over to the couch and sat down close enough to Brian to pat him on the leg. “So, Brian Kinney is afraid of mice?”

“Fuck no. I’m not afraid of anything. I just didn’t want a damned rat on my pillow. It probably had all kinds of weird rodent diseases and it was bleeding and shit.”

*pfft* “Brian, that was not a rat. It was the tiniest mouse I think I’ve ever seen,” Justin couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. “It was, like, smaller than my thumb. I’ve seen scarier looking bunny rabbits than that little thing. I can’t believe you made me leave work early to come and save you from the scary baby mouse.” *Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha*

“Shut up,” Brian insisted, pushing Justin away from him.

When Justin didn’t resist and simply let the impetus from the push knock him over into a laughing heap on the couch, Brian was forced to smile a little. Okay, Brian had to admit at least to himself, that he might have overreacted. A little bit. But he’d never had to deal with cats and their weird dead rodent fetishes before. It was a little freaky.

“It wasn’t THAT funny, you twat,” Brian complained when Justin was still laughing himself silly a minute or more later. “Stop laughing at me! I don’t know what to do with cats, Sunshine. Your fuzzball freaks me out, okay? Stop laughing!” Brian insisted again but then gave up when all his protestations simply caused Justin to erupt with new freshets of giggles. “Fine. You want to laugh? I’ll give you something to laugh at, you annoying little twat!”

Purely out of a need to defend his honor, and NOT because the little blond twink was being adorable or anything like that, Brian commenced tickling and poking at the wriggling, laughing boy, inciting more laughter from both the tickler and the ticklee. Justin tickled back, though, and somehow managed to find Brian’s most vulnerable spot - his armpits. The tickle war became heated and the laughing and shouting was deafening. Then, a particularly good poke in the ribs of the larger man resulted in the whole writhing mass of them falling off the couch and onto the floor where Justin managed to land smack dab on Brian’s chest.

Brian couldn’t resist. Those bright blue eyes were sparkling down at him, and the boy was bubbling with laughter. Justin’s coral pink lips were so close. Brian only had to tilt his head up to reach them with his own. So he did. And it was pretty much the most perfect kiss Brian could imagine so he just kept on kissing the soft, sweet lips which were eagerly kissing him back now. Brian’s arms, of their own volition, curled up around the smaller body lying atop his own, holding the warm compact body even closer.

Justin tasted so good. His lips were soft and warm and every time Brian’s tongue brushed across them it caused a little rippling of something electric deep in his gut. Justin’s hands were feathering tenderly through Brian’s hair. Brian could feel Justin’s hot breath against his own lips. He couldn’t help but notice the growing warmth sprouting up down lower. Brian grasped the firm young body even tighter against himself, grinding their erections together without ever letting go of the succulent lips, and rolled them over, pushing the coffee table away with their bodies, so that Justin was now effectively trapped under him. The boy didn’t protest. He just kept nipping back at Brian’s lips and sighed loudly with pleasure when Brian was firmly positioned above him.

Who knows how much longer they might have stayed that way. It was an oddly passionate and yet languorous make out session. Brian was all for kissing, but mostly because kissing usually led to groping and then on to sucking or fucking. But to just kiss and touch without it consciously serving as the prelude to something else? He’d never really done that. Now, for the first time in his life, Brian found himself content to keep on doing exactly what he was doing without rushing forward towards something more intense. It was a shockingly new thing for him and a little disconcerting.

So, when Brian’s cell phone started ringing, it actually came as a bit of a relief. He now had a good excuse to pull back from . . . whatever this was, and regroup. He left one last wet kiss on the now panting pink lips and then quickly rolled off the boy so he could sit up and reach for his phone.

“Kinney,” he answered brusquely, just like he always did.

“Hey, Brian. It’s Lindz. I’ve got a proposal for you . . .”  

While Brian was distracted with his call, Justin mentally shook himself. That had been intense and exactly what he’d been telling himself all day that he would NOT do. He tried to pull himself together and calm his breathing. He had to somehow will down his cock as well. Justin practically jumped up to his feet and kind of sprinted off to his own room, closing his door a little more energetically than he’d planned and making it seem like he was slamming the door shut. Then the confused youth leaned back against the door and slowly sank down onto his haunches.

Justin was so confused!

Chapter 10 - Reactions.

Justin had been in his room for over an hour now. Brian was hesitant to bother him. Brian really didn’t want to deal with whatever was going on - this thing that was happening between the two of them, whatever it was - but he did need to talk to the boy about that call from Lindsey. So, when another fifteen minutes had gone by and Justin still hadn’t come out of the room, Brian tentatively knocked at the door.

“Come in.” Brian heard the response and pushed the door open. Justin was standing in front of his easel in the corner of his room and slapping paint haphazardly onto a canvas. The artist seemed totally absorbed in his work.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, Justin,” Brian started off weakly, and then when he heard how lame he sounded he shook his head and decided to try a different tack. “My kid is going to be in town the weekend before Christmas. I told his moms that he could stay with me. They’re going off to do some shopping and have some alone time or whatever shit carpet munchers do. You got a problem with my son camping out here?”

“Uh. . . No. No problem,” Justin was floored by so much in that statement that he didn’t really even know how to respond. “You’ve got a kid?” That seemed like as good a place as any to start.

“Yeah,” Brian admitted, his whole person becoming somehow softer and more human when he started to talk about the kid. “I donated the necessary ingredients to a college friend of mine when she and her lady lover decided they wanted to procreate. His name is Gus. He’s only three. I don’t get to see him much, especially now that I moved here, so it’ll be cool to get some time with him. I’ll have to take off from work for a couple days, though. I’m sure that will go over like a lead balloon. Since I’m the new guy I don’t have any vacation accrued yet and everyone else was expecting me to be around while they all took off over the holidays. Too bad for them, though.”

“Well . . . “ Justin started to offer, but then paused when he wasn’t sure about how Brian would take his suggestion.

“What?” Brian demanded.

“I was going to say that I would be off school by then and I could help out with Gus, if you wanted. But then, I wasn’t sure if that was weird or something, since you haven’t known me that long,” Justin wasn’t sure why he felt so uncomfortable with this discussion, and to hide it, he turned back to the painting he’d been working on.

“You wouldn’t want to hang around all day with a three year old, Sunshine,” Brian said deprecatingly.

“Why not? I get along great with kids,” Justin insisted, but kept at his painting. “My little sister is eight years younger than me, so I have bunches of experience with baby sitting. But, it’s your call. If you don’t think you could trust me or something.”

“I didn’t say that, Justin. I wouldn’t have a problem trusting you. It’s just too much of an imposition, is all. I didn’t bring it up just to rope you into babysitting. I just wanted you to know in case you had a problem with Gus staying here for a few days is all. But, since that’s apparently cool, then that’s all I needed. I’ll get out of your way,” Brian backed away, not at all sure why Justin was acting so pissed off at him or where this conversation had gone astray.

‘So much for the happy, comfortable attraction thing’, Brian thought, shrugging his shoulders resignedly. No biggie. He’d back off and leave the boy alone if that’s what the kid wanted. Maybe he needed a drink. And a blow job. Yes, definitely a blow job. Time to head off to another club, Brian decided, and strode off purposefully towards his room, determined to eventually find the perfect club here in the big city.

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

Tonight’s trick was Type B - the tall, thin swimmer type. Brian merely nodded to his roommate as he led the grinning guy past where Justin was sitting on the couch watching TV. Justin hoped that this one wouldn’t be a screamer. It seemed like the Type A - Beefy Boys - were usually the more vocal ones, but you couldn’t always be sure. At least it was still fairly early. Even if the trick was noisy, it wasn’t likely he’d still be here when Justin was ready to head off to his own bed. So, Justin went back to his movie and tried not to care about the decidedly erotic noises that occasionally seeped out through Brian’s wide open bedroom door.

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

Brian didn’t know why he’d let the stupid trick stay the night. He almost never did that, except when he was so drunk that he passed out before he got around to kicking the guy out. But, last night, for some fucked up reason, when Brian had noticed the guy starting to drift off to sleep after their third round, he hadn’t felt like waking the guy. The trick had been an okay fuck and he was decent enough looking - pretty young, very pale skin and ashy blond hair but tall and well built - that might have accounted for Brian letting him stay. Brian really didn’t want to examine his motives too much, though.

When Brian had woken up this morning, however, and found the guy plastered across his chest, snoring vigorously, his drool pooling on Brian’s skin and his unpleasant morning breath contaminating everything around them, Brian could feel his skin crawling practically off his body. If he’d had any intent to keep the guy around for a morning quickie, actually seeing the guy now had banished that thought.

“Get the fuck out,” Brian ordered and literally kicked the clingy trick away from him, rolling over to face the wall so he wouldn’t have to see any more of the guy than he absolutely had to.

The trick grumbled about the rude awakening but didn’t really argue. The guy crawled out of the bed and started searching around on the floor. When he didn’t find whatever it was he’d been looking for, the guy stomped back over to the bed and poked Brian in the shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey, what the fuck did you do with my clothes?” the trick demanded, standing there naked with his hands aggressively balled into fists resting lightly on his hips.

“I didn’t touch your fucking clothes,” Brian replied, not really caring and certainly not wanting to bother getting out of bed to help the lameass guy find his shit.

“I know I left them on the chair over there last night, man. You must have moved them or something,” the trick insisted again. “If you want me out of here, buddy, you’re going to have to give me my clothes back. I’m not leaving here naked.”

Brian reluctantly forced himself out of the bed to help the hopeless trick find his fucking clothes. They were, in fact, not on the chair or anywhere else in Brian’s room, as far as Brian could see. He lifted up the blankets and covers that had been inevitably mussed up, thinking maybe the clothes had been left on the bed and been covered up by a random toss of the blanket, but no. Brian even bent over to look under the bed itself. Nothing. Brian was stumped.

“Did you look in the closet over there?” Brian suggested to the trick while he was picking up his own clothes off the chair, thinking maybe the missing clothing was mixed in with his own.

The trick shrugged, not sure why his stuff would have ended up inside the closed closet, but went over to open the door anyway.

*HISSSSSS* As soon as the closet door was opened a tiny crack, a large grey growling ball of fur blasted out of the enclosed space, hissing at the trick as he passed and then taking up a defensive position in the center of the room. Winston’s hair was standing up all along his spine and he had one paw raised with claws extended, ready to do battle with this unwanted human if it were to come anywhere near him. The trick wasn’t that foolhardy, though. He wasn’t going anywhere near the insane cat. He immediately backed up till he could crawl up onto the bed where he was hopefully safer.

“What the fuck?” Brian was almost as startled as the trick by the crazy cat’s behavior and he jumped back from the hissing furball just as quickly.

Brian and Winston had been getting along pretty well lately - well, except for the dead mouse incident - so the man wasn’t sure why the beast was acting so intimidating now. He also wasn’t sure how the cat had ended up shut into his closet. Or, now that he thought about it, why the cat was in his room at all since the bedroom door was also closed. Maybe the cat felt trapped or something and that was why he’d gone all psycho-kitty? Brian carefully sidled around the edge of the room, trying to give the snarling monster as much space as was possible in the little room.

As soon as he reached the bedroom door, Brian gently turned the knob and pulled the door wide open. Winston immediately took the opportunity to bolt out of there. Both Brian and the trick sighed in relief when the crazy cat was finally gone.

So, why was the cat in his room in the first place? Brian didn’t remember the door being closed when he’d fallen asleep last night. Of course, Justin probably just closed the door when he had gone to bed last night. And, if the fuzzball had been in the room then, it was understandable that he’d gotten trapped inside. But then, how had the cat gotten into the closet? Brian was curious enough to go investigate.

Brian pulled open the closet door and switched on the light so he could see better. Inside, neatly folded and piled up on the floor of the closet, were the trick’s missing clothes. And, right on top of the neat little pile, were Justin’s ugly, dirty, travelling sneakers. That explained the missing clothing and how the cat had managed to get into the closet - although not why Justin had shut the cat inside.

Brian bent to pick up the nasty shoes, intending on returning them to their owner by throwing them at the boy’s head. However, when he picked up the shoes that were normally coated only with crusted mud on the bottoms, Brian saw that this time the soles of the sneakers were coated with something else - bright red paint - which had obviously been freshly applied right before they’d been placed on top of the trick’s clothes. Now, the paint seemed to be dry, but there were lovely red imprints of the sneaker’s treads on top of the folded shirt.

Brian wanted to stomp off to the boy’s room and yell at the immature little prankster but found that he was laughing too hard.

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

When Justin got home from work that evening, he discovered his travelling sneakers inside a big zippered baggie sitting on his bed. Also inside the bag, was a dry-cleaning bill for $65. The bill had a yellow sticky note attached to it on which was drawn a big unhappy face and which bore the words: ‘Added to your portion of next month’s rent, Sunshine.’

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

Brian was sure that Justin was avoiding him after the painted shoes incident. All the next week Justin had been cold and distant whenever they would meet. The little artist spent any time when he WAS home holed up in his room. Brian was starting to wonder what he’d done that was so horrible that it caused Justin to be this pissed off. He’d fled from the apartment the first few nights, preferring to be alone in a roomful of strangers rather than being alone in his own apartment with an angry twink seething down the hall from him. By Thursday, though, Brian was getting tired of the whole situation and decided to stay home and force the twink to confront him.  

Justin got home from work at the art store and was surprised to find Brian sitting on the couch, Winston purring away in his lap, and several little boxes from the nearby Thai take-out place waiting on the coffee table.

“Hey, Sunshine! I got dinner for us,” Brian announced pleasantly. “Grab a beer from the fridge and join us. Winston said you can even pick which movie we watch tonight.”

“I can’t. . . I. . . I. . . I’ve got studying to do,” Justin was too surprised to come up with a better lie to get out of the proposed dinner.

“Nonsense. You have to eat. You can do your homework after dinner, Sunshine,” Brian insisted, going as far as throwing Winston off his lap and getting up to block the pathway down the hall.

Justin couldn’t think of any other excuse and was therefore forced to stay. He didn’t sit on the couch though, he chose to remain separate and sit in the nearby armchair. He didn’t say anything either, which made Brian very nervous. ‘Shit, I’m going to be forced to make small talk’, Brian thought.

“So, how’s work going,” Brian tried first, admittedly really bad at making small talk.

“Fine,” Justin replied with a shrug and helped himself to a couple of crab puffs which he dipped into the little cup of sweet chili sauce.

“Oooookay!” Not only was Brian not good with small talk, he wasn’t even going to make the effort unless Justin was going to play along. “So, why are you being such a pissy little brat lately,” Brian launched into the real issue, done playing, and took up the box of Spicy Thai Basil Chicken.

“I haven’t been pissy,” Justin contended lamely. “I’ve been busy. I have to work and I’ve got finals starting next week and I’ve got a big project to finish for my Graphics Theory class by tomorrow morning. That doesn’t mean I’m being ‘pissy’.”

“Well, you certainly sound pissy,” Brian prodded and slurped up an extra-long noodle. “If you’re still pissed off about the stupid dry-cleaning bill, Justin. . . I was only kidding about that, you know. The stupid little git was throwing a total fit, though. I ended up giving him an old CK shirt of mine to wear and had to walk the bitch down to the dry-cleaners and pay the cleaning bill before I could get rid of him. It was probably the most annoying thing you’ve ever done - which is saying a lot, by the way - but, I don’t really expect you to have to pay for the dry-cleaning. Actually, it was good for me. It reminded me why I usually DON’T let tricks stay the night.”

Justin couldn’t help it. Brian’s last comment forced a begrudged laugh out of him. It was really hard staying mad at Brian Kinney even though he was the most aggravating, sluttiest, asshole on the planet.

“There’s that Little Miss Sunshine smile,” Brian teased, happy to see his roomie finally smiling again.

“Do you realize how incredibly annoying you are, Mr. Kinney,” Justin finally relented, teasing back.

“Oh, that’s nothing. You don’t even want me to get started on annoying,” Brian was encouraged by the little teasing smile. “I’ve learned from the best. My best friend while I was growing up had the most annoying whine you’ve ever heard. Mikey perfected the art of whining while growing up in a household run by a single Italian mom and a raging queen uncle. He could practically strip paint off the walls with his high pitched whine. . . .”

The rest of the next hour was replete with stories from Brian’s past. Justin learned all about Mikey, Debbie and Vic. It sounded like a pretty great family to be around. Especially during those adolescent years when Justin had been struggling to come to grips with his own sexuality in a household run by the bigoted Craig Taylor. Justin caught himself laughing at several of Brian’s stories, even when he told himself he should stay detached and not get even more involved with Brian Kinney’s life.

“So, why did you move here to New York when all these great friends were there for you in Pittsburgh,” Justin finally had to ask, more than a little curious about why this personable man would leave such a great support system behind when he himself would give anything to have that much acceptance.

Brian looked uncomfortable and didn’t respond right away. Obviously Justin had hit on a sore spot. Brian’s previously animated and relaxed expression melted away and a strange, almost blank expression took over.

“People change,” Brian shrugged and looked intently at his Drunken Thai Noodles instead of at Justin’s questioning face.

“That’s a completely bullshit answer,” Justin announced, staring intently at his roommate and refusing to look away until Brian responded.

“It’s complicated . . ." Brian tried to avoid the discussion, but he wasn’t able to break the connection created by Justin’s big blue eyes drilling into him.

“So what? Life is complicated? That’s a given. Why did you leave the Pitts?” Justin asked again.

“Mikey and I had a . . . disagreement,” Brian admitted reluctantly. “Well, it was more than that. I think he . . . well, let’s just say we aren’t speaking anymore and Deb isn't too happy with me either."

“You guys have been friends since what, freshman year of high school? What could be so bad you would stop talking? Permanently. I know that Daphne and I could never be angry at each other that long.”

“I . . . Well, I sort of told him that he would make a lousy father. He didn’t take it very well. Neither did Debbie,” Brian confessed and then turned back to his food to avoid any further recriminations.

“That seems harsh,” was all that Justin said, his voice as neutral as he could make it considering this disclosure.

“It’s not like it sounds,” Brian tried to clarify his statement. “See, Lindsey and Mel - they’re the mothers of my son, Gus - have been fishing around to find another sperm donor. I turned them down. They asked Mikey next and I tried to dissuade him from agreeing to the deal. But, he was all gaga excited about the idea and wouldn’t listen to reason so I . . . well, the only way I could get him to listen was to shock him. I . . .  I kinda told him that since he’d never HAD a father he’d be a really bad candidate. But, it was for his own good, you know. I knew what it was he would be getting into. I agreed to the deal with Gus and. . . “

Now Justin was intrigued. This was a whole other side of the usually reserved Brian. He didn’t show vulnerability easily. Even though Justin had been trying not to succumb to the lure of Brian Kinney, he couldn’t let that statement sit there unanswered.

“The deal with Gus. . . ?” Justin prompted.

“It’s just that . . . well. . . I didn’t expect to want to be a dad,” Brian felt like he was being forced to bare his soul - it was uncomfortable and liberating at the same time. “The night that Gus was born, Mikey and I went to the hospital to see him and I. . . well, I saw him and I just. . . I didn’t think I would love him.” Brian’s confession was so faint it was hard to hear but Justin knew that this was incredibly important so he kept his glance steady and refused to let Brian retreat from the topic.

“I didn’t have a great childhood, myself, you know. I didn’t think I would make it as a dad. I didn’t have any good role models or anything. So, when Lindz asked me to help out so they could have a kid, I thought I would just donate sperm and then walk away, you know. I wouldn’t have any responsibility to the kid. Lindsey and Mel were going to be the parents and I wouldn’t have to be involved. So, if I turned out to be shitty dad, it wouldn't really matter. But then, the first time I held him, I just knew that I wanted more."

"However, I'd already signed off on the papers that gave up my parental rights, so now I get time with Gus only when the munchers say. And it's not enough. I know Mikey would be devastated if he wound up in the same deal. He'd be the kind of dad who would absolutely dote on his kid, and I didn't want him to have to go through the same struggle I've had with Mel and Lindz."

“Why would you think you wouldn’t be a good dad?” Justin asked, stunned that this very caring man would think he couldn’t make it as a father.

Brian didn’t answer. Instead he got up and started cleaning up the detritus from the Thai take-out and fussing around. Justin decided to back off and not press. It was clear that Brian wasn’t ready to share whatever was bothering him and Justin finally remembered his decision to keep his distance from this far too magnetic man.

“Well, I’d better get working on that project that’s due tomorrow,” Justin said, getting up from the chair and neglecting to tell Brian he’d finished the project three days ago.

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

When Brian got to work the next day, he was pleasantly amused to see Justin's sneakers had made a reappearance - this time in his briefcase. Justin had also included a pencil sketch of Brian sleeping in his bed with Winston perched on his chest. It was a wonderful likeness so Brian decided to get a frame and keep it on his desk. Fuck these K&C guys if they didn't like his 'art'.

Chapter 11 - In Need of ‘Someshine’.

Friday night Brian got talked into joining some folks from work at a local bar. It really wasn't his kind of place - breeder bars were incredibly tedious as far as Brian was concerned. It felt weird that Brian hadn't been hit on all night. And, since he had nothing else to do, Brian drank even more than he usually would. He just barely realized how over-the-top drunk he was getting before he made a complete ass out of himself. In desperation, Brian opted for a strategic retreat from the hetero bar and a fairly early cab home. Unfortunately, Brian passed out before the cab got to his building. The conscientious cabbie got out, dug out the fare's wallet to check the address, and rang the doorbell.

"Hello?"

"I got a Brian Kinney here in my cab. This where he belongs?"

"Yeah. How come he doesn't know that himself?"

"He passed out about a minute after he got into the cab. You wanna come down and get him?"

"Shit, Brian, you idiot. Yeah, I'm on my way downstairs."

Brian might look skinny, but Justin quickly discovered how truly heavy the man was as he struggled to pull the drunken lout out of the taxi and trundle him into the building. Eventually, Brian woke up just enough to help support some of his own weight as long as Justin guided him so he didn't crash into anything. Together they managed to get into the sixth floor apartment and Justin led Brian to his bedroom.

“Don’t go Shunshine,” Brian begged as Justin pulled his jeans off and rolled him under the covers. “I’m cold. I need Someshine.”

“Go to sleep, Brian. You’ll be fine in the morning. Or at least by late afternoon,” Justin tucked the blankets up around Brian’s shoulders and patted him on the chest before starting to leave.

Brian was drunk but quick. He snagged Justin’s hand and, before the youth could do anything, Brian had pulled the boy down onto the bed. “Thasss better. I can’t be cold when I got my Someshine. Now, stop squirming, Someshine, and go to sleep. My head hurts too much to wrestle with you. Jus wanna hold the Someshine and sleep . . ."

Justin struggled to free himself for a few moments but Brian had a firm hold on him now and wasn’t going to let go. He would have to stay at least until Brian fell asleep and then Justin could free himself. Justin sighed in resignation.

The cab ride home must have been just enough sleep to temporarily revive Brian, though, because he seemed quite talkative all of a sudden. “I HATE breeder bars, don’t you, Someshine? Not one guy hit on me the whole night. It was weird. I did get two chick’s numbers though. Hey, we could call them and double date! That would be fun. Only, I don’t think they’d like it when I started kissing you and we ignored them. Well, if there were two of them, they could just kiss each other. Problem solved. Good idea, Someshine!”

“Why do you have too many clothes on Someshine? I’m still cold because of all those fucking clothes. Why do I have too many clothes on too? Can’t play with my Someshine with all this shit in the way,” Brian insisted and started to pull at the waistband on Justin’s sweat pants while Justin tried equally as hard to keep his pants on. “Come on out and play little Someshine . . . Bring your pretty dick and I’ll show you all sorts of fun games we can play together.”

“Brian, stop! Stop it! You’re completely soused. I don’t want to play with you like this. Let me go so you can get some sleep, you horndog,” Justin demanded, using one hand to keep his pants up above his waist and the other to try and fend off Brian’s twenty or so other hands that were groping at him relentlessly everywhere else.

“You don’t wanna play with me? Someshine is still pissed off at me? I told you I was jus joking about the dry-dry-dry-cleaning-trick shit. Don’t be mad at me. I don’t got nobody else, Someshine. Mikey is pissed at me and so is Debbie and there’s no one else . . ." Brian’s roaming hands had become still and his voice died off, but not before Justin could hear the unmasked sadness and loneliness that a more sober Brian always managed to conceal.

“Shit, Brian,” Justin sighed and shook his head sadly. “You don’t make it easy to try and keep my distance from you, now do you? Come here, big guy,” Justin said in a hushed voice and turned so he could put his arms around the other man, holding him tightly until Brian finally drifted off into a deep, deep sleep.

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

Brian woke up groaning the next morning. His head felt like it would crack open and his brains would start to leak out if he moved it too fast. His eyelids felt like they were made out of sandpaper. His mouth seemed to be full of the fuzz off of someone’s dirty gym socks. And Brian wasn’t even ready to assess the more serious discomfort he was feeling down in his gut for fear that acknowledging the problem would make it worse. All he could do was to gently roll over, groan again, and hope that he could go back to sleep until it was all better.

Unfortunately, that just wasn’t going to happen. Right as Brian was starting to sink back into slumber, the bedroom door opened and he heard someone approaching the bed. He managed to get one eye to open sufficiently to determine that his visitor wasn’t dangerous - well, not too dangerous, being that it was only Justin - then groaned again and tried to sink into the mattress.

“Wakey, wakey, Stud Muffin!” Justin sang out cheerfully. “I come bearing presents that you’re gonna wanna take advantage of, but you’ll have to actually sit up first.”

“Go away!”

“I brought you coffee . . ."

“Mmmnnnn . . . coffee? . . . unnnhhhhh.” Brian made the effort to sit up enough that he could effectively hold onto the coffee mug Justin was offering.

“I also brought you some Extra-Strength Ibuprofen. How many do you want?” Justin asked, relieved that Brian was at least conscious enough to drink his coffee.

“A thousand . . ."

“That might be a few too many, big guy. How about we start off with four and see how well that goes. Okay?” Justin shook a few tablets out of the bottle and then handed them over to Brian who swallowed them gratefully. “Now, any interest in food?”

“NNNnnnnnmmmm,” Brian groaned in the negative and shook his head ‘no’, but then instantly regretted moving his head at all.

“Poor baby. Well, you go back to sleep and I’ll come check on you again in a little while," Justin said and started to leave.

“Stay?” Justin was surprised when Brian moaned out a completely comprehensible word. He was also touched by the sincere need he could hear in the request.

“Brian, I really should . . .”

“Stay. Please. I don’t want to die alone,” Brian rasped out in his best imitation of a drunken man pretending to be dying.

Justin laughed softly, glad that Brian wasn’t feeling so bad that he’d lost his sense of humor. “Okay, I’ll stay for a little while. You DO know you are the neediest drunk I’ve ever met, right?”

“I’m dying; it’s okay to be needy,” Brian said between slurps of his coffee.

“Fine, then scoot over so I can at least sit down while I watch you breathe your last.” Justin shoved at Brian’s shoulders to get him to move over and then he made himself comfortable on the bed.

Brian leaned against Justin’s shoulder, pulled the duvet up over the both of them and contentedly sipped away at his coffee with his eyes closed. It wasn’t long before the two men were joined by a languid, furry, grey body, which jumped onto the bed and then sauntered over, eventually choosing a spot where it could curl up between the two men’s warm bodies. Brian wasn’t sure if it was the coffee, the pain meds, or the company, but he almost instantly felt better. He might even be willing to acknowledge he was becoming human again.

“Before I get too comfortable and happy, you better tell me what embarrassing shit I did last night, Sunshine,” Brian figured it was best to get the worst over with quickly. “The last thing I remember was wanting to punch out some idiot at that breeder bar who thought he had the funniest homo joke ever. But I didn’t. Instead, I drank another scotch. And I don’t remember anything after that.”

“Oooo! I hope you did punch that guy after all. I hate being in that kind of situation. I’m sure the loser deserved it.”

“Yeah, he did. But I think he's also the husband of one of the female partners, so I probably shouldn’t have punched him. I hope I didn’t.” Brian shrugged and then remembered not to shrug again because it hurt too much.

“Well, I have no clue what you did at the bar,” Justin confessed, “but you didn’t do anything too bad that I saw. Except for being completely passed out in the cab when you arrived. The cabbie was a good guy, though, and didn’t just dump you. He called me and I went downstairs and dragged you in. The cabbie didn’t even steal your wallet - so I used your money to pay him and I gave him a big tip. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Naw. Gotta reward the one honest cabbie in the City,” Brian forgot and shrugged again, causing himself to groan even louder.

“Of course, once I got you out of the cab you did wake up a bit. Thank goodness, because I couldn’t have carried you - you weigh a fucking ton, you know,” Justin teased.

“I do not. You’re just a midget,” Brian laughed and managed a small smile even through his pain.

“Then you pulled me into your bed and spent the entire rest of the night making mad, passionate love to me, before we decided to fly to Vegas and get married,” Justin said in retaliation for the ‘midget’ comment”

“What?”

Brian was shocked enough by that comment that he sat bolt upright in spite of the hangover and, in the process, spilled half his coffee onto Winston. The cat, who didn’t approve of hot coffee baths, wailed, clawed Brian’s thigh, even through the blankets, and then ran off in a bad Kitty mood. Brian, who was now scalded, clawed and still hungover, moaned and then let himself topple over on his side, completely dejected by that particular development. Justin managed to grab the coffee cup out of Brian’s hand just before he spilled out the remaining contents.

“Sheesh. I was KIDDING, Brian,” Justin chuckled at the despairing man. “Just kidding. Really. But let that be a lesson to you about calling me a midget.”

“You’re a cruel, evil man, Sunshine,” Brian complained weakly. “I’ll only forgive you if you bring me more coffee.”

“Big, demanding, queen,” Justin teased, but did get up to procure another cup of coffee for his patient.

By the time Justin returned Brian was already zonked out again, even though the blankets were still damp from the spilled coffee. Justin rearranged the wet covers as best he could without disturbing the sleeping man. Brian looked so much younger when he was asleep. Justin brushed a lock of hair off the handsome face and couldn’t help but feel a tug at his heart at the sight of a small smile flittering across Brian’s face, apparently in response to Justin’s touch. Shit, this man was beautiful. 

Justin had to draw him.

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

When Brian woke up again it seemed to be rather late in the day. The shadows were already coming in from the west side of the building. He didn’t feel quite so bad as he had earlier. His headache was now just a dull throbbing and his head didn’t feel in danger of breaking open if he moved too fast. Yeah, life wasn’t too bad after all . . .

As Brian continued to mentally assess himself, he noted that there was something warm and heavy propped up against his back. He twisted his head around and caught a glimpse of a shaggy blond head of hair bent at an awkward angle towards his shoulder. A soft purr of a snore was emanating from somewhere under the hair. Brian smiled and cautiously twisted around so that he was lying on his back, allowing him to reach over and pull Justin into a more comfortable napping position. The little blond head nestled into the crook of Brian’s shoulder and his body molded tightly against Brian’s side. Brian moved one leg around so he could wrap up the young artist’s body even tighter, but in the process he kicked something that had been lying on the bedcovers. Gingerly reaching down to grasp whatever he’d kicked, Brian detected another of Justin’s sketchpads. This one was open to a page where the kid had been drawing a picture of Brian sleeping. And it was . . . remarkable.

Brian wondered if he really looked like that or if Justin was being somewhat creative. It was easy to see the outlines of his face in the picture, but all the other things he could see there were so unexpected. Did Brian really look that sweet, that sad, and that beautiful, albeit somewhat lonely? That wasn’t him, was it? Why did Justin draw him like that?

Brian was still contemplating his portrait when his bedmate began to stir a little. Brian’s arm naturally pulled the boy’s body closer, instinctively wanting to comfort him and protect him in his sleep. Justin responded by sleepily reaching his arm across Brian’s chest and turning his face so that his nose was almost buried against Brian’s skin. Brian dropped the sketchpad and reached his now free arm around so he could play with the thick blond hair at the nape of Justin’s neck.

This . . . just lying here like this with the boy in his arms . . . was amazingly nice. Brian didn’t remember ever doing anything like this before. It was the middle of the afternoon, he was just lying in bed with a man he hadn’t even had sex with, and he was . . . incredibly happy about it. This experience was beyond anything Brian had even contemplated. But he wasn’t about to fight it, not when it felt this right. It might not last; Justin might go back to avoiding him as soon as he woke up. While it lasted, though, Brian decided he’d just revel in the pleasant closeness and wait to see what came next.

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

“Justin. Justin? I have to get up, Sunshine,” Brian had waited as long as he possibly could but he simply had to get up and use the toilet and couldn’t put it off any longer.

“Mmmmmnnn,” Justin complained but didn’t resist when Brian unwound the boy’s arms from around his chest and carefully crawled over him to get out of the bed.

Brian wasn’t used to lolling around all day in bed, so even though he was tempted to just go back and rejoin his little bed-warmer after he was done with his business, he decided to first check his email and voicemail. Just when he’d finished all these tasks, and was about to mosey on back to see what the blond in his bed was up to, the blond in question came to him. The boy looked so warm and tousled and just way too fucking adorable for words. Brian was having a very hard time keeping all those lesbionic sentiments from bursting out of his mouth without his permission.

“I was just about to order some food,” Brian thought that sounded innocuous enough. “What are you in the mood for, Sunshine?”

“You don’t have to get me anything, Brian. I can fend for myself,” Justin objected and stumbled past Brian into the kitchen.

“I don’t mind, Justin,” Brian insisted, wondering why he felt hurt and rejected all of a sudden just because Justin hadn’t wanted to share a meal. Brian followed the younger man into the kitchen so he could keep talking without having to shout. “By the way, weren’t you supposed to work today?”

“I called in sick,” Justin replied, his head halfway inside the refrigerator. “You were pretty out of it still this morning. You asked me to stay a couple times, so I didn’t want to just leave you.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Justin. That was incredibly altruistic of you. Now I really do have to buy you dinner, though, since you gave up a whole day of income for me. So, do you want to order in or should I take you out someplace nice?”

“Really, Brian, you don’t have to feed me or anything. It was nothing,” Justin insisted, emerging from the depths of the fridge with a couple of pieces of bread which he popped into the toaster.

Brian reached around Justin’s body, removed the bread from the toaster, and grabbed Justin’s hands so rapidly that the boy didn’t have time to escape. “Yes, it IS a big deal, Justin. You gave up a whole day of pay to stay here and take care of me. I don’t think anyone has done that before. Ever. And I want to thank you by buying you dinner. So, just decide if you want to eat here or go out - that’s all you get to say.”

“Brian . . . Fine, you win. But I’d rather just stay here,” Justin caved about the food a little easier than he would have normally because he really was famished and there wasn’t much in the way of dinner fixings other than more peanut butter toast.

“Good. I’ll order from that little Italian place, since I know you love their Pasta Carbonara. And, since it’s still early, and I haven’t eaten anything all day, I don’t even have to feel guilty about the carbs. Now, you just sit and relax and I’ll take care of everything,” Brian seemed uncharacteristically eager to be playing host and Justin was a little too stunned to put up much of a fight.

Thirty minutes later, Brian arrived back at the apartment with a good selection of beer at the exact same time the food arrived. Justin got up to help sort things out but Brian ordered him back to the couch. Brian pulled out plates and utensils and then brought everything over to where Justin was waiting in sheer amazement that Brian Kinney was serving him.

“Every time I think I’ve figured you out, Brian, you surprise me all over again,” Justin commented as Brian handed him a cold bottle of beer.

“Good. I don’t want to be too easily ‘figured out’,” Brian replied and sat himself down next to the blond.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Justin had to ask. “I would never have pegged you as the kind of guy who would go out of his way like this just to thank someone. I’m not saying you wouldn’t do something nice out of gratitude, but I just never pictured you making such a production out of it. Are you sure you’re the same guy that moved in here less than a month ago? Do you have an anti-evil twin brother or something?”

“Fuck you!” Brian said in a loud and thoroughly snarky tone, trying his best to dispel any image of himself as the Anti-Brian. “I CAN be nice. I just don’t bother most of the time since everyone usually expects me to be an asshole and I wouldn’t want to disappoint them. But. . . . well, it was pretty cool of you to take the day off and all so . . . I know you’ve on a tight budget and it’ll probably hurt quite a bit to not get paid for today. Feeding you is the least I could do. So just quit complaining and eat already.”

“Oh, good. There’s MY Brian back. I feel so relieved,” Justin couldn't help teasing Brian just a little.

“Can it, Sunshine! You should just enjoy ‘Nice Brian’ while he’s around, and not antagonize him,” Brian teased back, obviously in a very playful mood. “So, do you want to watch a movie or something? I’ll even let you choose something horribly romantic and totally boring, since I’m trying to be ‘Nice’ here.”

“As opposed to what - something involving a war, in black and white, and also totally boring?”

The rest of the evening went by quickly, the two men teasing each other and goofing around while they traded bites of pasta, drank a few beers, and made fun of the truly bad romcom that Justin had insisted they watch. By the end of the night, Justin was surprised to find himself once again sitting all curled up next to Brian with the bigger man’s arm draped comfortably over his shoulders. Justin didn’t even remember moving to sit next to Brian. But it felt so natural.

Justin knew right away that he was in dangerous territory. He’d promised himself that he would try to keep his distance from Brian. He’d been successfully avoiding the man most of the week. At least until Brian had surprised him by actually being home on Thursday. And just look what had happened then! Brian being so needy and sad had meant that Justin couldn't simply walk away. So he'd somehow ended up back in bed with the man? Way to stay strong, Justin - NOT! When he’d finally woken up after Brian got out of bed this afternoon, he’d mentally reprimanded himself with every strong word he could think of and told himself he wouldn’t let Brian get to him again. But, of course, less than two hours later, here they were snuggled up together on the couch like . . .

Like nothing. Justin was not going to let this happen. He couldn’t. He had been right when he’d described Brian to Daphne. From everything Justin could see, Brian was not the longterm boyfriend type. If that was what Justin wanted, then he needed to stay away from Brian. He was nothing more than an unwanted distraction. Sitting here with him on the couch, with Brian being all nice and cosy, was very, very dangerous.

Justin should get up. He should move away. He should do it NOW. Right NOW. He should go to his room and lock his door and he should definitely not be leaning up so he could reach Brian’s soft, dark cherry-red lips with his own. Justin wasn’t going to kiss him. He really was NOT going to let himself kiss Brian . . .

Oh fuck! He had kissed him and it was such a sweet, tender, soft kiss. Brian tasted like beer and cheese from the pasta earlier. And Brian was being so . . . so fucking NICE. But that didn’t matter. Justin wasn’t going to kiss him again. No matter what. He just couldn’t let himself get sucked into this. He should get up off this damnably comfortable couch right this minute . . . Okay, this minute . . . Fine, he’d get up in five minutes, but he wouldn’t even look up at Brian in the meantime . . .

“Justin?” Brian reached over and lifted the boy’s chin up with one long, strong finger so that Justin was forced to look the taller man in the eyes. “You’re going to overwork those little hamsters running on the treadmills inside your little blond head. I can almost hear you thinking over here. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Brian. I just don’t think you really want to do this . . ."

“What? . . . What exactly is it you think I don’t want to do? You think I don’t want to kiss those delectable, soft, coral-pink lips?” Brian bent down and tried a kiss to demonstrate just exactly what it was that he shouldn’t be wanting. “Hmmm, well, that wasn’t so horrible. I guess I could be forced to do that again. You never know, though, it might turn out that if I kiss you again I really won’t enjoy it, so maybe we better keep trying just to make sure.” Brian bent down so he could get a better, deeper kiss, and this time his tongue brushed against Justin’s lips, causing the young man to sigh, thereby letting Brian’s tongue have full access to everything inside.

That kiss lasted long enough that they were both breathless when Brian finally released Justin’s mouth and sat back upright. “I think you’re wrong, Justin. I’m pretty certain that I DO want to kiss you. Probably over and over again. But maybe you’re right and there’s something that comes after the kissing that I won’t enjoy? You could be right. We better test this, just in case, because I wouldn’t want to be doing something that I didn’t want to do.”

Justin was seriously thinking about what he’d wanted to say before the kissing. He knew there was some argument against what Brian was seemingly about to do. Justin’s brain seemed a bit fuzzy, though, and he just couldn’t remember what it was that was wrong about all this. So, when Brian’s lips came back over and brushed against his own, he opened his mouth willingly, more than eager to try whatever experiment Brian wanted to pursue. And when Brian’s hand drifted steadily down his body, lightly rubbing through Justin’s shirt, across his collarbone, his chest, his nipples, and then down, down, lower and lower, drawing little curly runes through the fabric, Justin didn’t say a thing. When Brian’s hand migrated even lower, slipping easily inside the sweatpants that Justin had been wearing all day, and kept trailing down with little curlicues, through his pubes and then lower and lower and lower . . .

Both Justin and Brian sighed loudly when Brian’s hand finally reached the object of his search and wrapped itself firmly around Justin’s thick, hot, fully-hard, shaft. “I’m not sure I want to do this, Justin,” Brian whispered into his companion’s cute little shell-like ear. “Do you think I’ll like this? Do you think I want to stroke you? Rub your cock hard, just like this? I might not want to do this, you know. I might simply hate feeling you, hard as fucking steel, in my hand. It’s possible I don’t really want to do this, although it feels pretty good. You’re so hard, Justin. I can feel you leaking into my hand and the wetness feels good. I think I do really want this. Yes, your cock is here in my hand and I’m stroking you and spreading your pre-cum up and down your dick and I don’t think I want to stop. Do you want me to stop, Justin? Is this what I’m not supposed to want to do, because I do want this. I really do want to stroke you and touch you and touch you . . . and touch you . . . touch . . . touch . . .”

Brian’s ongoing dialog seemed to hit a bit of a glitch right at that point but Justin wasn’t listening any longer anyway. His brain had disconnected from every source of input other than the direct line from his dick. And that particular neuronal line was telling him that it felt good. Really, really good. Each stroke of Brian’s fist up and down his shaft left impressions of soft flames trailing along his skin. Each movement sparked another ripple of fire. It was excruciatingly pleasurable and Justin couldn’t think of anything else. There WAS nothing else. The center of the entire universe was focused solely on his cock in Brian’s hand and it was exquisite. And when the rising waves of fire surged even higher, the entire universe disappeared for several moments as Justin’s world exploded into Brian’s warm, firm hand.

In the aftermath of the universe exploding, both Brian and Justin sat there, leaning against one another, listening to Justin’s panting breath. “Yeah. You’re right, Justin. I don’t want to do that. It’s kinda messy. Don't you agree? I’m sure there’s got to be a better way . . ." Then Brian let free an actual, uncensored, girly-man giggle of delight at his little joke, and started to wipe his hand clean on the leg of Justin’s sweats, before he once again claimed Justin’s sweet lips for another kiss. Justin was laughing and returning the kiss and had completely forgotten everything else in the world outside of him and Brian.

At least until Brian and Justin were interrupted by Winston’s imitation of an insane cat who’d been surreptitiously eating the remains of Brian’s Pasta Arrabiata when he came across a pepperoncini by mistake and then proceeded to knock all the plates and take-out boxes off the coffee table, coughing and gagging and frantically writhing all the while, and finally barfing up a large quantity of partially digested pasta, the beginnings of a really nice furball he’d been saving for later, and pieces of the crunchy cat food he’d eaten before he decided to try Brian’s pasta.

It completely ruined the mood for the two men.

Chapter 12 - The Non-Date.

Justin spent the next fifteen minutes cleaning up the disgusting results of his cat’s unfortunate foray into spicy Italian food. Brian, who was still slightly hungover even after all of Justin’s kind ministrations, wasn’t ready to confront Kitty-Vomit and he accordingly fled the scene in order to prevent his own stomach from copying the cat. Poor Justin, whose head was reeling and whose heart was still pumping wildly from the superb hand job he’d just received, was left to handle the cleanup all alone. When he was done, Justin shuffled off, completely flustered, for a solo shower, trying to clear his head and decide what the fuck he was doing.

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

Sunday, Justin was back at work - manufacturing the appropriate fake coughing and sneezing necessary to substantiate his calling in sick the day before - but his head was still back at the apartment, mired in confusion about what he was doing with Brian. It didn’t make for a very productive day at work. First he mis-filed an important invoice which he spent two hours looking for later. Then, he accidentally spilled coffee on his boss who was not amused as he stalked off swabbing at his ruined suit jacket. By mid-afternoon, Justin was in a really foul mood and ready to bite off the head of the next uninformed, witless customer who walked through the door.

Right at that moment, the little bell over the door tinkled and Justin turned around, ready to snarl at whoever dared to come into the gallery right at that very moment. Except that the person who came through the door wasn’t just some witless customer. It was Brian, who came bearing a large cup of what appeared to be coffee with a small, uncertain smile.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Brian said, still with that uncertainty that seemed so out of place on the man’s countenance. “I thought you might need sustenance.”

“Thanks, Brian. I’m desperately in need of caffeine. How did you know?”

“Just a guess. So, want to show me around? I have been known to purchase ridiculously overpriced art on occasion - I assume you work on commission?” Brian said with his customary smirk, effectively obliterating the needy uncertainty Justin had glimpsed earlier.

“I’d be happy to show you around, Mr. Kinney. The Founder’s Gallery is well known for our patronage of unimaginative, snobbish artists who think their shit doesn’t stink. If you’ll follow me, I’ll give you the complete tour and It’ll only cost you that coffee drink you have in your hands right now.”

“That’s a deal, Sunshine,” Brian willingly offered up the coffee he’d brought for the boy and dutifully followed along behind his personal tour guide. “I heard that this gallery is currently showing a piece by an up and coming young artist who is likely to take the entire art community by storm in the not too distant future. You could show me that piece first.”

“I think you’ve bought into the hype a little too much, Mr. Kinney,” Justin cautioned his customer. “But, I think I know the piece you’re thinking about. It’s back here.”

Brian gushed sufficiently over Justin’s sole painting to earn him the extra bonus points he’d been seeking. Then he let Justin show him around the rest of the gallery and explain all the other works they were displaying. As usual, they joked around, the mood was light and the conversation was casual. When they’d viewed the entire collection, Brian looked down at his watch and was disappointed to note that there was still more than an hour before Justin could leave. He didn’t really have a plan here - he was playing things by ear - but he silently wished he’d planned a little better.

“Thanks for the tour, Sunshine. I should probably leave you to your work, but . . . Well, I didn’t have any plans for tonight, so I was wondering if I could convince you to maybe, finally, come out to a club with me for a while. I promise not to keep you out too late. I know you’ve got school in the morning. Just a dance or two, a drink and then I’ll have you home and in your bed in plenty of time to make sure you don’t turn into a pumpkin.”

“Brian. . . I don’t know. . . “ Justin fudged again, still unsure where he wanted this ‘thing’ to go.

“Justin, I thought we already had the discussion about where I want this to go last night. I should apologize if I didn’t make myself clear. I’m willing to let this go wherever it might lead, Sunshine. I never do anything I don’t want to . . . which means I’m doing exactly what I want right now. You just need to figure out what you want. . . “

Brian leaned closer to the youth and lightly brushed against the sweet pink lips but then pulled away before he could be tempted into more. Justin really wanted to lean into that kiss and press for more but he was still hesitant. This was the Brian Kinney who had announced point blank that he didn’t do repeats or boyfriends or relationships in general. What the fuck was Justin doing kissing this guy? Especially since the guy he was kissing was his roommate, at least for the near future. And, after Christmas, he was supposed to start thinking about moving out after which he probably would never see Brian Kinney again. Getting involved with the man at this point was madness. It was self-destructive. It was NOT a good idea, Justin told himself.

“Okay. I get off in about an hour. I should be home by 6:00,” Justin heard himself answering and internally yelled at himself for being so spineless.

“No rush,” Brian informed him as he started to walk out the door. “I’ll be waiting, Sunshine.”

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

Brian was freaking out the entire walk back to the apartment. Without even realizing it, he had just asked a guy he sorta liked out on a date! His first actual date! Well, okay, second date, if you counted that fiasco back in college when he'd ended up abandoning the dweeb who asked him out half way through the meal and instead fucking the waiter in the alley behind the restaurant. Brian didn't think that really counted.

This one would count, though. Brian wanted it to count and he wanted it to go well. Unfortunately he didn't have a clue what real dates were like and he only had an hour to figure it out. If he were back in Pittsburgh he could have called Lindsey or maybe even Mikey for advice. Except that, if he were back in Pittsburgh he never would have met Justin and even if he had he would have been too busy living up to everyone's expectations of him to risk getting to know the boy. And, he probably never would have called his friends for advice anyway since all they would do was give him shit. So, all in all, it was probably better that he had to figure this out for himself.

It was also probably a good thing that he didn't have more time to plan something. Brian understood himself well enough to know that his perfectionist tendencies might have forced him to do something too elaborate, too staged, which was really not Justin's thing. So, he'd have to go with something simple. Yeah, simple! He could do simple. Brian Kinney could do anything he set his mind to, so he was sure he could do a simple date. He didn't need Mikey or Lindsey and there was nobody here in NYC that knew him well enough to give him shit about it. Here, he didn’t have any stupid reputation to maintain, either. Moving here was turning out to be liberating in more ways than one.

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

Justin had no idea what to expect from a night out with Brian Kinney. But, whatever. What could it hurt? They'd go out to some public place - which, as far as Justin was concerned, was far safer than being alone with Brian at the apartment - they'd have a few drinks, dance a little, it would probably be too noisy to talk so he didn't need to worry about that, and then they'd come home and that would be that. It couldn't be too bad.

"Perfect timing, Sunshine," Brian announced as soon as Justin came through the door, where Justin suspected he'd been waiting. "If you need to change or anything, take your time. I was just going through my email and stuff," Brian seemed ready to jump out of his skin even though he was putting on an overly casual act.

Justin decided to take pity on the poor man. "I won't be long, Brian. Just give me five minutes and tell me how dressed up I should be."

"Oh, I didn't think you'd want to go somewhere dressy. I thought we'd just hit this little pub I found and then maybe a club. But, I could call and make reservations somewhere if you'd rather . . . " Brian was so ready to try to please Justin it was almost painful.

"No! That's fine, Brian. I prefer going someplace casual. Really," Justin insisted and waved Brian back down onto the couch. "Just give me a minute okay?"

Justin changed as quickly as he could and then he and Brian were out the door before either of them had a chance to think twice. The bar that Brian had in mind for dinner and drinks was a cozy little Irish themed pub called 'The Cupping Room'. It was only a short walk from the apartment so they didn't even need to wait for a cab. The place was such a tiny hole in the wall, that even though Justin had been living there for close to a year, he'd never noticed it. Inside, though, the pub was comfy and homelike. They had a decent kitchen too - if you liked burgers and hearty pub food. Brian was especially happy with his choice since it was quiet enough to talk if they wanted but it also had a pool table and darts if he needed a distraction. Brian was actually quite proud of his choice, overall, and gave himself a few extra 'dating proficiency points' in his internal reckoning system.

Justin, on the other hand, wasn't ready for a place like that. It wasn't your standard pick up bar. There wasn't a convenient backroom. There weren't a string of guys cruising for a hookup. It wasn't like anywhere he would have pictured Brian Kinney hanging out when he was out on the prowl for one of his tricks. It was sort of like someplace you'd take a date . . .

Fuck! This WAS a date!

When Brian had casually asked earlier if Justin wanted to go to a club with him, Justin had taken the invitation at face value. Brian was always hitting the clubs. It wasn't any big deal. So, they'd have a few drinks together, like friends or roommates, hit the club and dance - probably not even with each other - then head home while they compared notes on the guys at the club, right? That's what a couple of friends did together. They didn't go out to some cozy little pub where they could sit and have a long, peaceful conversation. That was definitely something you did on a date! What the fuck was going on here?

Brian led the way past the long wooden bar to the rear where there were several little tables set up. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was after that, though. He was proud of himself that he’d even managed this far. Brian wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to do next. He briefly contemplated holding Justin’s chair for him as the younger man sat down, but then almost immediately decided that was too hokey even for him. Instead he just sat himself down and handed the bar menu over to Justin.

“So, has there been any interest at the gallery in your painting?” Brian asked, using one of the five carefully prepared small talk topics he’d thought up while he was waiting for Justin to get home from work.

Justin really was NOT prepared for a Brian Kinney that did small talk. It was just one hundred percent out of character for this man. What the fuck?

“Um. . . Yeah, a little. I mean, nobody’s willing to cough up the $300 to buy the thing, but a couple of people have asked about it. So, that’s pretty good, right?”

“Sure. You aren’t a big name yet, so it’ll take time. But, any interest is better than none,” Brian responded, trying to desperately think of something more to add - he didn’t want to have to move on to one of his other ready-to-use topics yet since he only had so many and at this rate they’d run out of stuff to talk about before the waiter came to take their order.

Fortuitously, the waiter chose that moment to show up and ask for their drink orders. Brian thought that drinks were a very good idea - a little social lubricant was exactly what he needed right now. Brian abstemiously ordered only a beer, though, not wanting to risk getting too snockered too early. This dating stuff was turning out to be harder than it looked and he wanted a clear head.

After the waiter trotted off to get their drinks there was an uncomfortably long period of silence at the little table. Justin pretended to be studiously examining the menu while Brian nervously flipped a paperboard bar coaster around on the table. The bar wasn’t very crowded, so there weren’t really a lot of distractions to cover up the lack of conversation, either. Brian really hated awkward silences. He wasn’t accustomed to dealing with them much, since his normal approach whenever he saw a hot guy he wanted to spend time with was to just pull him into the backroom, a nearby alley or the closest bathroom stall. ‘Wanna fuck?’ was typically the entire extent of the conversation. Somehow, that didn’t seem like it would be sufficient in this situation.

Fine, Brian would move on and use his second pre-selected topic - Justin’s school. “How much longer have you got in school?”

“This is my second year at the New York School of Visual Arts,” Justin began to explain, slightly more eloquent on this topic than on the last. “I do have a bunch of transfer credits from my one year at Dartmouth, but most of them don’t do much good at an art school. So, I’ll still have at least a year and a bit more before I can finish my Bachelor’s in Fine Arts. Longer if I want to specialize in graphic arts or some other specific medium. Most people go on after that and get their MFA, but I really don’t want to have to do that if I don’t have to. I’d rather be creating art than studying it. Of course, I have to actually sell some stuff before I can afford to do that.”

“What were you doing at Dartmouth for a year, Sunshine?” Brian asked, full of curiosity. “Somehow I just can’t picture you in that type of environment.”

“It was my dad’s idea,” Justin admitted with more than a little animosity evident in his tone of voice. “He went there and had long planned that I would be a good little clone, following in his footsteps all the way through a business degree and then taking over at his company when he was ready to retire. Unfortunately, he didn’t plan on his little boy turning out gay and preferring art over business. . ." Justin seemed to be distracted at that point, looking off into the distance at some part of his past that Brian couldn’t see.

“So, dad wasn’t exactly enthused by you switching to art school, I take it?” Brian ventured a guess.

“No. He really wasn’t. In fact, he immediately disowned me, told me not to bother coming home again and warned me to stay away from my little sister so that I wouldn’t contaminate her with my ‘disgusting lifestyle choices’.” Justin responded acerbically, grabbing the beer that the waiter brought at that moment and taking a big swig to wash away the bitter taste that speaking of his father always left in his mouth.

“Here’s to fathers,” Brian offered, holding his own beer out for a toast. “May they all rot in hell with their unrealistic expectations and lousy career advice.”

”Do we really have to ruin an entire evening by talking about our worthless fathers?” Justin said, refusing to toast to his loser parent, even if it was in jest.

“Definitely not!” Brian quickly agreed. “That’s not exactly my favorite topic either.”

The ensuing lull in the discourse at this point was only briefly filled by the waiter coming back to take their food orders. Brian used the opportunity to review his remaining small talk options and came to the inevitable conclusion that they were all total duds. So much for small talk. It was never Brian’s strong point anyway. In fact, back home, he would have ridiculed his friends for any conversation that was as lame as this one had been. It was obviously time to move on.

“So, Sunshine,” Brian said once the waiter had moved away. “Is this the dullest conversation you’ve ever had or is it just me? Should it be this difficult? We always seem to have plenty to say at home. So what, exactly, am I doing wrong here?”

“It does feel a little . . . Stilted?” Justin agreed, but didn’t offer more.

“Okay, I give up, Justin. Confession time. See, I’ve only ever been on one other date before and that didn’t go very well. I have no clue how to do this. I’m scared shitless by the mere concept of a date and I suck at small talk. All I’ve got left here is the weather and those damn Yankees; neither of which topics are likely to impress you. So, you’re going to have to meet me halfway here.”

“I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d EVER been on a date before this. I’d say you’re not doing too bad for your second try. You kind of need to relax a bit though. You’re trying too hard,” Justin chuckled at the idea of the always smooth Brian Kinney having to work so hard at something as plebeian as a mere date. “So, what happened on your first date?”

“I left my date in the middle of the meal, took the waiter out to the alley and fucked him and then never went back into the restaurant,” Brian admitted with a self-deprecating laugh that melted Justin’s heart. “Like I said, it really didn’t go that well. I never wanted to try the experiment again after that. Well, until today. . . “

“Brian Kinney, are you flirting with me?” Justin teased.

“Maybe. Do you like it? I could maybe do it more if it meant you would help out a bit more with the conversation thing.” Brian offered coyly.

Justin laughed loudly at Brian’s little confession. Brian might not be good with small talk but he was excellent at flirting. And, after that, the date thing was much easier. The boys got back their usual playful camaraderie with each other. They talked about everything under the sun: Brian’s playboy life back in Pittsburgh, his friends and his time at school, his work today and how hard it was to move up in a place like Kennedy & Collins. This led back to Justin’s art and before they knew it, Brian was asking the young artist’s help with one of the campaign ideas he wanted to present as an alternative to the one the company was working up now. When a pool table opened up, they moved the conversation over there. Before the end of their second game, the pair had come up with a fabulous idea and Justin had already done five or six rough sketches on the backs of beer coasters to illustrate the concepts.

They never did make it to a club that evening.

Chapter 13 - Interruptions.

Brian admittedly didn’t have much experience with dating, but he wasn’t sure that he could count this one as a success or not. Yes, following that initial rough start, he and Justin had relaxed and the talking part had gone much better. But Brian was sure that a really good date should end up with the participants in bed together, not sitting up at the dining room table until way too late at night collaborating on an ad campaign. It was, admittedly, a very good campaign, however this was not exactly how Brian thought the night would go.

When Justin yawned for the second time, Brian stood up and pulled the pencil out of the youth’s hand. Justin didn’t resist. He knew that he really shouldn’t be up this late working on Brian’s project. He had his first final on Wednesday and he really needed to study. But it was too late and Justin was too tired to start tonight. It was time to head to bed - he could get a fresh start tomorrow.

Brian, though, had other ideas about what should be started tonight. He wasn’t ready to give up on this particular date yet. He courteously helped Justin move his chair away from the table so the boy could get up. But as soon as Justin was on his feet, Brian grabbed a hold of the boy’s hips and immediately spun him around so that they were face to face, their bodies only centimeters apart. Pressing the small advantage he got from this surprise maneuver, Brian moved to reduce even that meager space between them, leaning his whole length against Justin’s shorter frame. Justin had nowhere to retreat - the edge of the table was already digging into his ass. The closer Brian came, the further Justin was bent backwards over the tabletop.

“Justin,” Brian breathed the name as if it were sacred, reaching up to cup the youth's slightly stubbled cheek with one hand while the other found its way to the small of Justin's back.

Brian's lips brushed tenderly against Justin's and left a fleeting kiss at the corner of the boy's smile. Then, trailing little nibbling kisses, Brian's searching lips quested across the plane of his cheek and down the long alabaster neck until he could nestle into the crook of Justin's shoulder. Brian reveled in the feeling of warmth that radiated off the boy. He admired the flush of pink that rose to the pale surface as his lips brushed by. He tasted the salty skin. He inhaled the musky smell of the man and listened, enthralled, to the lub-dub rhythm of another heart beating in time with his own. His Sunshine was a feast for every one of Brian's senses, seemingly made just to please him in every way. Brian sucked and nibbled and tasted, and didn't have any desire to ever leave this particular embrace.

Justin had finally given up trying to fight this. . . whatever it was. At the first touch of Brian’s lips caressing his own, all of Justin’s arguments against getting involved with this complicated and highly libidinous man disappeared. Even if he still wanted to fight, he wasn't sure his body was going to cooperate with his reasoning self. It was pretty obvious from how tight his pants had become around his groin that his body was quite enjoying the feelings that Brian’s roaming hands and lips were generating.

Brian's assault on Justin's neck and throat continued, with Justin arching back accommodatingly to give his lover's lips better purchase. As Brian moved lower, Justin was pushed back further and further so that, before too long, the lusty young blond was now completely lying across the top of the table with Brian bent over him. Brian's hands were luckily braced against the table when Justin's legs, seemingly of their own volition, cinched up around his lover's waist. Brian inched their joined bodies higher and leaned in further, their lips meeting once again with kisses now hardened with a ravaging passion. Justin's hand had joined in with the roaming, working up under Brian's shirt and exploring the smooth skin he needed contact with so badly.  

Somehow, amidst the frantic groping and kissing and fondling, Justin's shirt was pulled roughly over his head and Brian's soon followed it into a pile on the floor. This thing seemed inevitable. Finally, they would be able to stop resisting whatever it was they'd feared and give in to their overwhelming need for each other. In unconscious agreement, both men reached down to undo the other's pants at exactly the same moment, unable to move fast enough to quell their welling urges.

This was usually the point where Brian's mind just naturally turned to the notion of locating a condom. His hand automatically went to his right rear pants' pocket, but the little foil packet he'd expected to find there was missing. Brian registered with regret that the next closest supply was all the way in his room where an almost full box was sitting on his bedside table. Which wouldn’t do him much good here on the dining table, but oh well. . .  

And then, as if it was a blessing falling from out of the blue, a little silver foil condom packet fell onto the table and landed next to Justin’s ear directly under Brian’s nose - a ripped up and partially chewed-looking condom packet. Brian looked up, startled to see two luminous green eyes staring back at him from less than a foot away. There on the table, staring at Brian curiously, was Winston the cat, poised upright on his haunches with his whiskers twitching and his furry ears swiveling back and forth, apparently trying to piece out what game his two humans were playing and whether or not he could join in.

Winston really loved games. He loved to chase things and toss things high up into the air with his claws and then pounce on whatever it was before it could escape. He liked to wrestle and roll around and rake with his claws against any unsuspecting human hand that thought it would be fun to wrestle back. Sometimes he would even pretend to wrestle with his toys and throw them around or claw at them as if they were real. These people looked like they were wrestling and he thought maybe he could get in on the fun. If not, maybe they would like to come and play with all the little toys he’d found in the New Person’s room.

At first Brian was thrilled to find that the helpful puss had providentially brought him a condom just when he needed it. Maybe he and Justin wouldn’t have to move off to the bedroom after all. Brian was more than happy to stay right where he was and plow into the perfect little blond boy right on the table. But, when he grabbed for the condom packet, he immediately noted that it was torn, had many little holes in it - as if very sharp cat teeth had perforated the package multiple times - and was generally soggy with kitty drool.

“What the fuck?” Brian immediately tried to drop the dripping packet but the wet foil was stuck to his finger. He shook his hand violently to get the thing to dislodge and then looked down apologetically when it flew off his hand and hit Justin in the nose. “Your fuzzball ate one of my condoms, Justin. That’s fucking disgusting! Why the hell would he eat a condom packet?”

“I don’t care why,” Justin demanded, out of breath and conscious only of the need to move this little lustful romp along to its proper conclusion. “Get another condom. Now, Brian!”

“Fine. But don’t fucking move. I’ll be right back and I want you lying there, spread out for me like a feast when I get back.” Brian demanded, then left one last kiss on Justin’s dark, swollen lips before trotting off to find that box of condoms he’d left in his room.

Not even twenty seconds later, Justin heard a heartfelt, ‘NOOOOOOO!’ shouted from the depths of Brian’s room. He rolled off the table, thinking that something was horribly wrong, and ran down the hall to find out what had happened to his soon-to-be-lover. Brian himself, shirtless and with his unfastened pants hanging low on his hips, stood in the doorway of the room, with his shoulders slumped in despair and his hands tearing in evident emotional pain at his hair.

“Brian? What’s wrong. What happened? Are you okay,” Justin was so concerned when he saw Brian’s defeated and exasperated stance he even hesitated to touch the distraught man.

“They’re all . . . they are . . . all ruined. . . gone. . . ALL of them. . . .” Brian moaned and then dropped dramatically to his knees, reaching out with his hands to grab up several of the small silver objects strewn all over the floor.  

Justin knelt next to the grieving man and picked one of the mutilated foil objects out of Brian’s hand. It appeared to have once been a fresh, new foil-wrapped packet assumedly containing one extra large, lubed rubber. However, now it was just a mushy chewed up piece of empty foil. On the carpet next to where Brian was slumped were the packet’s former contents, pulled out, half unrolled and now full of many tiny holes apparently caused by cat claws and/or teeth. Looking up, Justin could see that what had probably once been a paperboard box full of condoms, was now a chewed up mass of mush and that the many condom packages had been tossed everywhere, most of them chewed on, ripped open or clawed into streamers. It looked like Winston had been very busy in here most of the night.

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

Brian tried to be gracious after the ‘Fuzzball’ destroyed his entire box of condoms and ruined his plans for the evening, but it was pretty much a disaster any way you looked at it. Justin was torn between wanting to scream in sexual frustration and laugh at the feline antics. Either way, that was the end of their mutual passion for that evening. Brian was definitely no longer in the mood - all he could think about was wanting to kill the cat. So, as soon as Justin had helped clean up the mess, the two men agreed to go to their separate rooms where they each jerked off alone.

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

Over the course of the rest of the week, Justin was too busy studying for finals and working on a term project in his Graphics Arts class to worry much about Brian Kinney. When he wasn't working, Justin was almost always at the library or using the high powered expensive computers in the school's computer lab. He’d taken the ad campaign idea that he and Brian had come up with the other night at The Cupping Room and was expanding on it for his term project. He was incredibly happy with the results so far, but it was a far more ambitious artistic endeavor than he’d attempted before so it was taking all his spare time. Accordingly, Justin had barely even seen Brian all week.

Brian was busy in his own right, since the ad campaign he and Justin had come up with had been immediately seized upon by the partner in charge of the ‘Furry Friends’ Flightplans’ account. Brian wasn’t sure a marketing campaign for a travel agency that specialized in arranging vacations for people who wanted to bring their pets along was going to make him a star in the advertising world, but at least it had got him noticed by the higher-ups. The account was taken away from the inept dweeb who’d been muddling it up and Brian was told to run with his ideas. Unfortunately, at this point he only had a little over a week to get the entire presentation ready for the client, so Brian was in a frenzy trying to get everything ready and he wasn’t thrilled with the results he was getting back from the art department.

When he was able to get home, Brian had tried waiting around at the apartment to connect with Justin several nights. But Justin hadn’t shown up before 9:30 any night that week. Brian wasn’t about to sit around the apartment moping for some little twink, so he’d ended up at various bars or clubs by himself every single night. However, even the company of several hundred mostly naked and sexually willing men wasn’t really helping to get his mind off the one frustrating little blond artist that Brian would have prefered to be with. More often than he’d care to admit, Brian found himself thinking about Justin when he was out on the dance floor, scoping out his next conquest or in the backroom.

Brian wasn’t sure exactly why he’d become so hung up on this one guy - it hadn’t ever happened to him before - but he couldn’t get Justin out of his mind. He had plenty of interest from the kinds of guys he usually liked best: tall, dark hair, and old enough to get into the bar legally. So, why was it he kept finding himself scoping out short blond twinks? He would have gladly done something about it, but the one little blond twink he wanted to spend time with had virtually disappeared. Brian tried to shake it off and get on with things. He tried to just ignore the fact that he kept seeing visions of shining azure blue eyes, soft pink lips and blond hair even as he was getting serviced by some random, faceless trick. Somehow, though, the tricks just didn’t seem to be doing a very good job. Brian was not feeling satisfied no matter how many times he was getting off lately. All the trick’s he’d found recently had just been irritating, ineffectual and somehow. . . not right.

Finally, on Friday morning, Brian received the first concrete proof that his roommate was alive and still kicking - Justin's ugly, dirty tennis shoes showed up again - this time there was one waiting for him in his usual coffee mug and its mate was hiding in the empty box of cereal that Justin had put back on the shelf. Brian was certainly glad to see evidence of the boy's continued good humor even though he had to wash out and disinfect his coffee mug. He was only mildly annoyed by the fact that the little slob had put the empty box of cereal back in the cupboard, like he always did. More than anything, Brian found it comforting to know that Justin was thinking about him enough to keep up their little running joke.  

Brian’s day went downhill from there. The fuck-ups in the art department had again failed to follow directions on the Furry Friends’ account. He sent the boards back down to them twice before lunch. When they came back to his office for the third time, and they still weren’t right, Brian lost it. He threw the useless boards into the trashcan, packed up his laptop and gave up for the day. He wasn’t going to be meeting his internal goals of moving up in the company with that dross and sending the fuckwits the same instructions for a fourth time wasn’t going to get him anywhere except more pissed off. Brian decided to go home and try to cool off before he throttled the inept art idiots.

He was in such a lather when he left that Brian didn’t even bother getting a cab home. He figured that a long walk would do him good and for once it wasn’t raining or snowing even though it was now December. About halfway between his office on Madison Avenue and his apartment, Brian came across the ‘Impressions Art Supply' store. He hadn’t ever been there, but Brian was pretty sure that this was the place where Justin worked. Now, if only Justin - the brilliant genius artist who’d helped him come up with this scheme - worked in his art department instead of in this dead end, minimum wage job, maybe Brian could get his campaign finished the right way.

Then, inspiration struck! All of a sudden, Brian’s spirits were soaring with a rush of adrenalin instead of wallowing in the mire. Justin was the answer to everything. Brian ran into the store, practically knocking over an older, grey-haired woman at the door, and dashed up and down the aisles, looking everywhere for the little blond solution to all his problems. The other customers were giving him dirty looks and shouting obscenities as he bumped into them and knocked things out of their hands, but he ignored them and kept up his search.

“Justin! Justin Taylor! Justin, get your ass out here, I need you,” Brian began shouting wildly when he couldn’t find the artist he wanted anywhere in the store.

“Sir! Excuse me, Sir,” a rotund, middle-aged woman wearing a bright red ‘Manager’s Vest’ and an atrocious Santa’s Hat, came waddling up to Brian as he spun around near an aisle containing a plethora of various painting supplies and brushes. “Sir! Please, there’s no need to shout like that. How can I help you?”

“Justin Taylor works here, right? I need to find him. Where the fuck is he?” Brian exclaimed, grabbing the manager woman by the arm and towing her after him as he continued his search, hoping that he would get better customer service with the manager herself in his clutches.

“Justin works in the framing department, Sir. It’s in the rear of the store. But I think he’s working on something in the back today. Is there someone else who could assist you?” asked the Clothing Challenged Manager Lady as she tried to placate him and retrieve her arm from his solid grip at the same time.

“No. Nobody else can ‘assist me’. I need Justin. Just get him out here,” Brian demanded imperiously, releasing Clothing Challenged Manager Lady’s arm with a bit of a shove in order to encourage her to find his artist.

“Of course, Sir,” the now grouchy Clothing Challenged Manager Lady responded. “If you would follow me, I’ll take you back to the framing department.”

Brian trailed after her, grimacing slightly at the waddling vision preceding him, and in the back of his mind expecting her to tell him to ‘walk this way’. Luckily, it was only two aisles over and about ten yards to the framing department, so Brian wasn’t subjected to the sight for too long. The CCML told the impatient man to wait near a large work table strewn with various frames and mattings while she went through a steel door with a prominent sign that read, ‘Employees Only’. Brian paced around the table, glaring and shaking his head in disapproval at the sales clerk who was using the area to try and help a customer decide on some framing options.

“Brian?” the tall man twisted around when he heard his name being called from behind. “What are you doing here? I’m trying to work. I’ve got this huge framing job I’m in the middle of right now. I can’t . . . ”

“How much are you getting paid here, Justin?” Brian demanded shamelessly as he started to drag the youth away from the small crowd that was now curiously gathered around them trying to find out what all the shouting was about.

“I get paid enough,” Justin hedged.

“I need you to help me on that damned ad campaign we came up with last weekend. I stole the account away from that other guy at work but I only have until Tuesday to get everything ready for the client. The fuckwads in the art department are idiots and can’t follow even simple directions. I know you can do better. I’ll cover whatever you’d be paid for the rest of today, but I need you to come back to my office with me right now,” Brian explained rapidly while trying to keep the boy heading in the direction of the front door.

“What? I can’t just leave here in the middle of my shift, Brian. I’ll get fired.”

“You’re too talented to waste your time in a place like this, Justin. Your ideas are brilliant and I can’t draw for shit. I could really use your help on this. Please, Sunshine,” Brian was as close to pleading as he got.

“Brian, I’d love to help you out but I can’t just leave. . .  However, maybe I have something you could use in the meantime,” Justin suddenly thought of the graphic arts project that he’d finished that very afternoon and started to tow Brian back through the steel ‘Employees Only’ door.

Behind the door, there was a long hallway leading to several storage rooms and work rooms. Justin led Brian past all of these to the far back, where there was a row of very beat up old grey lockers against the wall between the back door and a very grungy looking bathroom. On the wall opposite the lockers were several coat hooks and a small aluminum shelving unit where the employees had hung their jackets and stashed their other belongings. Justin pulled his battered old black canvas portfolio case off one hook, setting it down in the only clear area on the shelves and zipped it open.

“I worked these up from the ideas we talked about last weekend,” Justin enthused as he pulled out a stack of prints from his bag. “I hope you don’t mind that I kind of used the ideas we talked over for your ad campaign. I expanded on them and I was going to turn this in for my end of term project for my Graphics Arts class. But, you can use them in the meantime. I just have to have them back to turn in to my professor by next Friday.”

Justin handed the digitally enhanced prints to Brian who flipped through them, a triumphant smile growing larger and larger as he looked at every wonderful image. “I thought you could use the work of each artist to advertise trips to that person’s country of origin or wherever they painted,” Justin explained as he laid out the pictures side by side on top of his portfolio. “So, like, the Van Gogh cat would be for travel to France, Whistler’s Mother’s cat would be for maybe Boston, the Italian lady cat for Milan, Dali cats for Spain, and so on. I only did these few, but you could really use the idea for any destination. I thought they would work perfectly with your copy ideas. What do you think?”

“I think you are ingenious, Sunshine. These are absolutely perfect! You are brilliant!” Brian crowed and swept the younger man into his arms for a huge, exultant hug and an accompanying celebratory kiss.

Justin was captured in the big strong arms and got a little lost in the joyous smooching. It was only the interruption of the CCML clearing her throat beside them that brought Justin back to reality enough that he remembered where he was and broke away from the kiss. CCML was standing there, tapping her foot, looking at them askance and didn’t appear to be going anywhere until these two broke it up.

“Justin, you know that non-employees are NOT allowed back here. And don’t you have a customer coming for that framing project in a half hour,” CCML admonished as soon as she got her employee’s attention.

“Uh, yeah. . .  Brian, I really have to get back to work,” Justin admitted and managed to peel Brian’s arms away from his body. “Why don’t you take those prints with you and I can work up any changes you want later when I get home.”

“What time do you get off, Sunshine?” Brian propositioned before he would let himself be dragged off by the CCML. “I’ll pick you up and take you out to dinner. This kind of achievement demands a celebration. I’m going to rush these back to the office and get the fuckers in the art department on this right away but then I’m taking you out!”

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

Because it was getting close to Christmas, Justin had to work later than usual. The framing department had a huge backlog of projects that had to be done before the holidays. He could, conceivably, put in at least another hour of work but Brian showed up at 8:30, hammering on the entrance door, and refused to leave until Justin was clocked out and available for dinner. He’d made reservations for the two of them at the trendiest Tapas restaurant in Soho - Boqueria Soho - and immediately whisked Justin away into the waiting cab as soon as the boy emerged from the store.

Brian was ecstatic. Apparently, he’d immediately run the prints Justin gave him back to his office and had the art department refinish them with the appropriate titles and copy and they turned out fabulous. Brian was incredibly psyched to present them to his boss on Monday and then to the clients on Tuesday. He stood to gain a significant bonus from this account if the clients liked his presentation. It would also mean that he’d made his first significant step up the ladder at Kennedy & Collins. And Brian was sure that he had Justin to thank for it. Brian’s mood was jubilant. It was definitely contagious. Before they were even through their third plate of ridiculously overpriced tapas, Justin was almost as elated as Brian. They laughed and ate and flirted and teased each other for hours.

When the food was finally gone it was rather late. Brian insisted on ordering them both a glass of Jerez sherry to top off the delicious meal. Then, as soon as their rude New York waiter had delivered their drinks, Brian made a big presentation of bestowing on the young artist a nice thick white mailing envelope with the Kennedy & Collins logo on it.

“What the fuck is this?” Justin asked, hesitant to even touch the daunting looking envelope.

“Well, contract artists are generally paid for their work, Justin. Of course, you have to sign off on the contract and waiver forms before I’m officially allowed to give you this check,” Brian replied, crinkling up his nose and biting at his bottom lip in the most adorable manner Justin had ever seen before pulling out a second, smaller, envelope from his suit jacket pocket.

“Really?” Justin was embarrassed that his response made him sound like a twelve year old, but he couldn’t help it.

“I know it’s not that much,” Brian equivocated as Justin tremulously opened the small envelope. “You deserve a lot more, but I’m new at the firm so I don’t have as much pull as I did at my old company.”

Inside the envelope was a check for $1,500. Justin almost passed out when he saw the amount. It was the single biggest commission he’d made to date for his art.

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

Chapter 14 - Finally!

As soon as the shock wore off, Justin launched himself across the little cafe table and into Brian's lap. Since he didn't have the right words to thoroughly express all his gratitude, Justin simply grabbed hold of Brian's surprised-looking face and started kissing him wildly. Hard, wet, sloppy kisses rained down on the usually staid man, on his lips, on his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, his chin. The youth's extravagant enthusiasm caused Brian to chuckle even as he was returning the passionate kisses.

"Brian, this is the most awesome thing anybody has ever done for me," Justin gushed, betraying his youthfulness.

"You deserve it, Sunshine," Brian asserted. "I meant what I said earlier that you're way too talented to be wasting your time on some crap job at an art supply store."

"Maybe, but I do like to eat so I have to work somewhere. Besides I get a great discount on my art supplies," Justin joked, trying to steer Brian away from such serious topics. "So, Brian," Justin teased, squirming just a little so that, since he was still sitting in Brian's lap, he could emphasize his point. "Would you say that this qualifies as our second date?"

"That depends on whether or not you think I'm doing an okay job at this whole dating thing," Brian was cautious. "If you hate it, we can call this something other than a date. Maybe just a dinner between friends?"

"Actually, I think that, for a guy with virtually no prior dating experience, you're doing a pretty excellent job."

"Okay, then. Yes, I'll agree to calling this our second date. Let's just hope it ends better than the first one . . . "

"Oh, I definitely think it will." Justin smiled mischievously, stood up and pulled Brian to his own feet. "See, I pretty much always put out on the second date," Justin winked and then seized Brian's hand and led him out the door of the restaurant. "And, I saw that new box of condoms you put in the medicine cabinet a couple days ago. As far as I know, Winston hasn't figured out how to get into that cupboard yet."

Brian wasn't sure if it was the wine they'd had with dinner, the general mood of celebration or if, maybe, Justin had simply given up trying to play hard to get. But, whatever it was, Brian gladly let the boy lead him out of the restaurant, down the street and around the block to their apartment. The whole way, they were goofing around, laughing, dancing and simply acting like love-struck teenagers. Brian had never let himself be this relaxed and unrestrained with someone before. It wasn't like him to act so carefree and playful. He felt incredibly free. Being here with Justin, without anyone judging him and without all the expectations he'd come to resent so much from his friends and family back in Pittsburgh, Brian was finally able to let go a little.  

The two tipsy men danced up to the entrance of their apartment. Brian fumbled the keys out of his pocket to unlock the doors and then they ran inside, falling together against the wall next to the elevator call button. Brian punched the call button and at the same time dove into Justin's sweet, unresisting lips.

The elevator doors slid open a minute later but Brian was too busy concentrating on tasting the coral pinkness to notice. The elevator doors slid closed again. Brian flipped Justin's body around so that the younger man was now standing with his back to the wall with Brian's larger body pressed firmly against him. Justin's hands came up, of their own accord, and he wove his fingers into the baby-soft auburn tresses. He tugged at handfuls of hair, pulling Brian closer, deepening their kisses, cementing the connection along the length of their bodies.

At first their embraces seemed frantic, as though they fought against time and had to get as much of each other as quickly as possible. But then there came a moment when Brian felt himself suddenly still. He gasped in a deep lungful of air, inhaling Justin's presence at the same time. Everything around them seemed frozen in that moment of time. Even with his eyes closed, Brian could sense Justin pausing at the same instant. He opened his eyes and saw he was being stared back at by a pair of the most intensely blue eyes he'd never dared imagine possible. There was nothing between them at this moment. For this tiny fraction of time it felt like they were alone, together, bodies fused with wills and their innermost selves closer to another being than would ever be possible again.  

*Ahem* "Sorry to interrupt, boys," a creaky, high-pitched and highly amused voice said, bursting the bubble of intimacy that the two men had been enveloped in at that precious moment. "But, you're blocking the elevator button, and I'm sure as hell not walking up three flights of stairs at my age. I don't give a flying fart how twitter-pated you two are. You'll have to shift over at least enough so I can get to the button."

Brian turned his head to find the owner of the voice, presumably ready with a snarky come back telling whoever was annoying them to get lost. When he didn't actually see anyone behind him though, Brian was forced to pull his body away from Justin's enough so that he could twist further around. He still didn't see the speaker.

"Down here, lover boy," the tiny voice was accompanied this time by a tap at Brian's shoulder with the rubber tip of a polished wood cane and his gaze was drawn downward. "You two mind moving your asses. I ain't got all day."

Brian, and now Justin too, discovered that they were being accosted by a tiny old woman - she couldn't have even been five feet tall and was slender with paper-thin, finely wrinkled skin and a curly red-headed wig that was slightly askew - who was glowering at them with impish glints of amusement in her watery old blue eyes.

"Well? You two big brawny men going to help an old lady get into the elevator or are you just going to stand there staring at me like I'm a talking mouse and you's afraid of rodents?" The voice and the person might have been small, but the huge attitude was all Big Apple.

The little lady was standing there, tapping her foot at them with impatience, but without any malice, sizing them up as if she was trying to figure out if she could lift them if they weren't going to move soon. Brian smiled and Justin chuckled and then they pushed themselves away from the wall. Justin chivalrously pushed the elevator call button for the woman and then both men stepped back so that the imperious older woman could get into the elevator as soon as the doors opened.

"That's better, young man," the teeny tiny lady nodded her approval up at Brian as he gallantly half-bowed while she shuffled into the elevator car. "Now, you two carry on and have yerselves a good night. Such a handsome young couple. . . "

The elevator doors cut off whatever else the outspoken old woman was about to say about them, leaving the two men giggling outright at the audacious little spitfire. "Well, you heard the lady, Sunshine," Brian snorted a rather undignified laugh. "We should 'carry on' and have ourselves a good night."

"Excellent advice, young man," Justin agreed, letting out another giggle as he hit the elevator call button again, and then fell back into Brian arms.

Their intense mood had been lifted by the interlude but their passion was still bubbling underneath. By the time they reached their apartment door, they were almost breathless again, but this time there was just as much amusement in their kisses as ardor. Brian held a struggling Justin up against the door while he located the door key and then they both tumbled inside as the door flew open before they were ready.

Somehow Brian managed to avoid landing right on top of Justin and instead managed to roll them both over till he could kick the door closed. Amid ongoing laughter, interspersed liberally with playful kissing, they rolled each other out of their jackets and most of their clothes. They wrestled and twisted, each trying to end up on top of the dog pile, foreplay and horseplay being doled out in equal parts.

Somehow Justin ended up naked first and then managed to pin Brian beneath him, the younger man's legs straddling Brian's waist, his slim yet strong body helping to quell the brunet's half-hearted struggles while Brian let his arms be restrained above his head by Justin. Justin took the opportunity to lean in for a long, languorous taste of Brian's ripe raspberry lips. Justin wasn't usually this much of an aggressor, but there was something so erotic in the way Brian was letting him take charge for the moment. It was driving Justin wild. With his mouth securely latched onto Brian's, he shimmied his body down until his full cock was sliding smoothly over taut, muscular abs, catching in a thick thatch of wiry pubes and then finally, rubbing head-to-head with another equally ready dick.

Justin felt so wanton, so lewd and shameless. This was far outside his usual comfort zone. He didn't care though. It had been so long for him and all his doubts had been burned away in a haze of lust.

"Brian, I want you. Now," Justin breathed into the older man's ear. "I want you so deep inside me that I still feel you a week from now. Now, Brian. Now! Please!"

More than eager to oblige, Brian shook his hands free from Justin's grip and leaned up halfway. His own pants had been left in a wad not far away, luckily close enough to reach so he could retrieve the condoms he'd made sure were in the pocket this evening. As soon as Justin saw exactly what his companion was after, he snatched one little foil packet away and ripped it open with abandon.

Justin took the initiative, shifting his body just enough so that he could unroll the latex sheath over Brian's straining cock. Then he lifted his supple young body up with straining thighs until he could position himself right where he wanted to be, his neglected hole directly over Brian's ready steel shaft. With his eyes locked to Brian's, Justin almost violently slammed his body down, taking all of Brian into himself in one strong, steady thrust. Both men cried out at the same instant, Justin's painful pleasure mixing aloud with Brian's joyous wonder. And then, never even giving himself a second to adjust, the shameless, sex starved young blond started riding Brian for all he was worth.

Brian was almost as amazed at himself as Justin for allowing the boy to take control this way. He let himself be manhandled by this little slip of a boy in a way that was completely out of character for him. But, as he lay back and watched Justin's total abandonment, Brian felt freer than he ever thought he could be. It was almost as heady a feeling as the passion that was swelling through him as Justin rode his cock relentlessly. Brian resisted the urge to flip the younger man over and retake control. He surrendered to Justin's overwhelming drive and the waves of desire that radiated off the smooth alabaster body of his young lover immediately swamped him. Without any warning, Brian's body was already there on the edge of climax, and there was absolutely no way he could hold back. As Justin lowered his exquisitely tight ass down onto Brian's hot hard cock again, Brian convulsed and felt himself cumming stronger and harder than he'd ever thought possible, the release so explosive it was almost painful.

Justin's own climax followed just seconds later and then the youth collapsed on top of Brian in a boneless, sticky heap. Nobody moved or made a single noise for several long moments. It was so incredibly quiet in fact, that after a couple minutes, both men were distracted by a loud vibrating sound that seemed to be directed at them from overhead. Brian brushed away a few strands of long blond hair that had been blocking his vision and easily found the source of the rumbling noise - Winston was perched officiously on the arm of the couch directly above their heads, his large green eyes slitted contentedly as he purred down at them with all-out kitty approval.  

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

Justin woke up a little disoriented. He could tell by the light creeping into the room that it was still early. He noted offhand that he was in his old bedroom in the nice big king-sized bed that he and Connor had bought when he'd first moved in. For about half a second Justin even thought that the warm body spooned up behind him WAS Connor. But, when he rolled over and saw the dark auburn hair of the man next to him, it all came back to Justin in a flash.

It had finally happened! He and Brian had fucked! Even worse, it had been fantastic. It was probably the best night of Justin’s entire life. What a complete disaster!

Shit! What had he done? Justin had told himself over and over that he wouldn’t succumb to Brian’s unquestionable charm. He didn't need this right now. He wouldn’t let himself be just another one night stand for this shameless playboy. It was NOT what Justin wanted. It was NOT Justin’s style to jump in and out of bed with just anyone, let alone his roommate. Justin didn’t know what had come over him. He wasn’t that crazy, wanton, sex-starved slut that he’d seemed last night. This was NOT good.

Now there would be the awkward morning after. The difficult meetings as they passed in the hallway or sat together without knowing what to say over a meal. Brian would start avoiding him. Justin wouldn’t have any idea what to say when they did meet. He’d never be able to look Brian in the eye again after the way he’d acted last night. So much for his plans to try to talk Brian into letting him stay in the apartment longer after the holidays.

Justin groaned. He figured he should get up and head to the corner store for a paper so he could get started on apartment hunting as soon as he got up. But, as he tried to roll away towards the edge of the bed, Justin felt two muscular arms enfold him and pull him back tightly against the cozy, welcoming, hard body behind him.

“You’re not going anywhere yet, Sunshine,” a deep, resonant, baritone voice hummed into his ear, the words being followed almost instantly by a series of light, barely-there, nibbling kisses trailing down Justin’s sensitive neck. “I’m just getting started.”

Justin was mesmerized not only by the sexy voice but also by the hands that crept down his chest, trailing over his nipples, his abs, circling his belly and finally finding their way to his crotch. Brian’s hands were caressing him so tenderly. It wasn’t like the passionate and somewhat rough touches that they’d engaged in the night before. This was so much more reverent, so much more affectionate. Justin was trying to resist but he couldn’t stop himself from surrendering to the feelings.

Brian's hand quickly latched onto the singular object of his desire, gently stroking along Justin's semi-erect cock, while his lips grazed lightly along Justin's neck. "Hell, Sunshine, I can't believe what you're doing to me. I can't seem to keep my hands off you," Brian whispered between kisses. "Or my lips. . . my body . . . my cock. . . " The evidence of the truth of his words - hot, dripping and hard - rubbing against Justin's back. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of you," Brian added with a sigh, his voice so soft that Justin wasn't really sure he'd heard that last part.

The solemn intensity in that last hushed comment caused Justin to roll over, looking his lover in the eyes to try and discover just where those twinges of sadness had come from. Brian didn't smile at him. Instead, Justin caught surprising glimpses of uncertainty, fear and pain. It was not at all what he'd expected. Without even thinking about it, Justin reached out, feeling a need to comfort and protect this sad, vulnerable and seemingly lonely man. And, surprisingly, Brian let himself be held for quite a long time.

Finally, with a big sigh, Brian pulled free of the younger man's arms, looking up at the beaming blue eyes a bit sheepishly. "I can't . . . I'm not really . . . I'm not usually this lesbionic, Sunshine," Brian eventually managed to stutter with a little self-deprecating laugh. "Actually, I'm usually much more like this," Brian covered up his disquiet with a more typical smirking grin before darting down under the covers, his experienced and talented mouth sucking in Justin's dick without any further warning, eliciting a startled and happy gasp from the surprised blond.

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

The next time Justin woke up it was to find himself alone in the big bed in what was now Brian’s room. The spot next to him was still warm so his bedmate couldn't have been gone long. Justin was glad to have this minute alone to think. He was still reeling from the things that Brian had inadvertently revealed to him earlier. He wasn’t sure what to think anymore. Who was Brian Kinney, exactly? Was he the man he professed to be - cold, unemotional, unconnected and not willing to get attached. Or, was he the man that Justin had glimpsed off and on over the past few weeks - vulnerable, caring, shy but strong and maybe, just maybe, willing to take a chance on something he’d never allowed himself before?

Justin didn’t have long to ponder the vagaries of the Brian Kinney experience, though. Brian himself came bustling back into the room with a tray loaded full of coffee mugs, a steaming carafe of delicious smelling coffee, two bowls of Cheerios and a jug of milk.

“So, you may not have figured this out about me yet, Sunshine, but I DON’T cook,” Brian said as he carefully placed the tray on the nightstand and then settled himself back in bed under the covers. “However, I do know how to put pre-made foods into attractive containers and serve it. So. . . Voila! I give you ‘Breakfast In Bed’ - sort of. Sorry, but cold cereal was all we had.”

Brian looked so proud of himself for having assembled breakfast on his own that Justin couldn’t help but laugh. He scooted up so he was sitting and then happily accepted the proffered bounty of cereal and coffee when Brian started serving things. It felt so comfortable. Brian was being so so considerate. It was totally freaking Justin out, but he didn’t hate it, either.

“Who are you and what the fuck have you done with Brian Kinney,” Justin inquired as Brian accommodatingly offered him cream for his coffee.

“Hush! I’m just me. I AM allowed to be nice sometimes, Sunshine,” Brian crinkled up his nose adorably and playfully bumped into Justin’s shoulder.

“Sorry, Brian. It’s just that . . ." Justin struggled to put into words the confused thoughts that were whirling through his mind at the moment. “I’m not sure who you really are or how I’m supposed to react to you.”

“When you first showed up here, you were this supremely confident, uncaring lout who seemed like he couldn't care less about how his actions affected the rest of the world. That first day you came here, you didn’t seem to care a whit about kicking me out to sleep on the streets. You even told me yourself the first week you were here that you didn’t do relationships, you don’t do boyfriends and, until recently, you’ve only been on one, very unsuccessful, date. That guy was kind of a cliche, admittedly, but relatively easy to understand.”

“I figured that I understood that guy. I knew how to deal with THAT guy. But now you’re like someone completely different. You seem. . . I don’t know what it is, but you just seem like a totally different person. I don’t know what to expect from you,” Justin babbled, unable to explain himself better. “I like this person you seem to be now. . . I just don’t know if I can trust this new Brian Kinney.”

This was an uncomfortable truth for Brian to hear. He knew he wasn’t really acting like himself - or at least the self he was used to portraying. But it had felt so good. It had been easy to let himself fall for this exuberant young man who was so completely open with his feelings. He didn’t really want to go back to being the Brian Kinney that he’d been back in Pittsburgh. The Brian Kinney that had to hide behind some ridiculous uncaring mask seemed so far removed from how he was feeling these days. It wasn’t surprising that Justin was having a hard time reconciling himself with the dichotomous nature of Brian’s personality, since Brian was just as confused by his own reactions.

“Justin, I . . . I don’t even know who Brian Kinney is supposed to be,” Brian’s voice died off as he tried to explain himself but couldn’t find the words. “Can’t we just be . . . whatever we end up without labeling it? I’m not good with shit like that. I don’t like to be psychoanalyzed. All I know is that I like this. . .  being here with you and I don’t really . . .  Fuck! I don’t want to . . . Fuck this!”

That was all the introspection Brian was capable of for one day. He bolted out of the bed, knocking Justin’s bowl of cereal over in the process, and grabbed up a pair of jeans and a shirt as he ran out of the room. By the time Justin had fished himself out of the milk drenched sheets, Brian was gone. The sound of the apartment door slamming shut, echoed emptily around the apartment. Justin looked around him, a little lost and unsure about exactly what had just happened and really, really confused about what was going to happen next.

As Justin stood there, still naked and dripping with milk, a Cheerio or two sticking to parts of his skin, Winston sauntered up with a 'Mow' and then started licking the milk off his person's left ankle.

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

Chapter 15 - Missing!

Justin didn't have time to dwell too much on Brian's suddenly overturned emotions, though. He realized almost as soon as Brian had left that it was almost nine o'clock and he was going to be late for work. He jumped in and out of the shower, staying only long enough to make sure all the Cheerios were washed off, and then grabbed the first clothing he could find before running out the door. Even running at top speed, he was five minutes late and completely out of breath when he arrived at the gallery. Mr. Vilhm gave Justin a stern look but didn’t say anything. It was likely to be a busy day at the gallery and he needed the help more than he needed to reprimand Justin.

Everything after that went smoothly for the most part. Since the holiday season was well underway, the gallery was much busier than it would be on any other average Saturday. Justin was kept running by the gallery manager, getting purchases ready to be shipped off to their buyers. Justin was more than glad to be so busy since it mostly kept his mind off Brian and whatever had happened between them last night. Of course, every time he bent over or tried to sit, the twinges in his sore ass made it impossible for Justin to forget some particulars of the night before, and he had a hard time not smiling when those memories surfaced in spite of how crazy things had turned out this morning.

By mid-afternoon, though, Justin was starting to feel the effects of getting so little sleep the night before. He was definitely flagging. He was hiding out in the stockroom, sitting with his feet up and his eyes closed, when the gallery manager rushed in calling his name. Justin was so startled that he almost fell off the stool where he’d been resting. Tricia didn’t seem angry about finding him dozing though - she seemed too excited to care.

“Justin! Justin, come out here, quick! There’s someone interested in YOUR painting,” Tricia squealed and bustled over to help Justin to his feet and rush him out to the main show rooms.

Justin tried not to run, not wanting to seem overeager, but he did sort of trot over to the rear of the gallery where there was indeed a woman in her fifties or so standing and looking over his picture. “Hello,” Justin said shyly. “Is there something I can help you with.”

The stately older lady turned to greet Justin and offered her hand. “Hello, young man,” she said in a crisp upper-crust british accent. “I was told that this gallery was showing some pieces by Justin Taylor. Is this the only one you have?”

“At the moment, yes, that’s the only piece here by that artist,” Justin said, clearly lost as to how this sophisticated woman had heard about HIS work.

“It is lovely,” the woman said, turning back to examine the painting. “There’s definite potential here. I wish there were a few other pieces, though. I’m not sure about the subject matter of this one. I was looking for something new for my office but this piece is a bit too, shall we say ‘exuberant’ for an office setting.” She muffled her laughter with her hand, unable to hold it back altogether at the thought of the reactions she’d get from hanging this piece in her office.

Justin had to admit that the piece, which was an abstract depiction of two men lying entwined together, definitely was a bit outre for your typical office.

“You do have a point there,” Justin chuckled as well. “If I may ask, though. . . I’m curious - how did you find out about this painting in the first place?”

“I’m the Director of the Art Department at Kennedy & Collins. One of my ad execs brought in some fabulous contract work the other day and when I asked him about the artist, he told me about this gallery. I simply had to come over here today and check it out. Do you think that there’s any possibility of seeing more of this artist’s work?”

“I think there’s a definite possibility, ma’am,” Justin was about to come clean to the customer when Tricia officiously strode up to the pair.

“Justin! I hope you’re taking good care of this customer,” Tricia bubbled sycophantically. “The gallery is so proud to have such a promising young artist working here for us. I can tell you that there has already been quite a lot of interest in this piece, even though it's the first that we’ve shown here. But, our Justin is so talented, I’m sure he’ll go far.” The manager put her arm around Justin’s shoulders possessively as she gushed about him to this obviously loaded potential customer.

“YOU are Justin Taylor?” the woman seemed taken aback at the disclosure. “Well, it’s so good to meet you. I just had no idea that you were so . . . well, so young. Please, let me introduce myself, I’m Anita McMillan. I oversee all the artwork for the agency and I was simply thrilled with the work you did for Brian Kinney. The campaign he came up with for that silly little travel agency was brilliant. When I told him how impressed I was, he immediately said that more than half the credit was due to you. Kinney really couldn’t have had more praise for your work, young man.”

“Well, thank you, so much. I’m glad you liked my work,” Justin was already blushing uncontrollably at the heaps of praise. “I had a lot of fun creating those prints and I agree that Brian’s ideas were excellent. I’ll have to make sure I thank Brian for telling you about me when I see him.”

“Well, thank YOU for doing such wonderful work for the firm,” Ms. McMillan returned. “Now, young man, tell me about what other work you’ve done and we’ll see if we can’t finagle the gallery manager here into selling me something I can display in my office without embarrassing my co-workers and guests.”

An hour later, thanks to the gallery owner having scanned and saved copies of several other works from Justin’s portfolio, Tricia and Anita McMillan had worked out a very nice sale for two of Justin’s paintings which he agreed to get to the gallery the next day so they could be framed. Ms. McMillan was thrilled with her acquisitions and confidently predicted that she would be rich once Justin was discovered and his works started being sold for their true value. All Justin could do is smile and nod and thank everyone profusely. When all was said and done, even after the gallery’s commission, he’d be getting almost $500 out of the deal. For the young artist who’d been hard pressed to find enough money to buy himself lunch two days ago, this seemed like riches beyond belief. And, again, he owed it all to Brian Kinney.

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

There weren’t any lights on in the apartment when Justin finally made it home after work. It wasn’t that late so he hadn’t expected Brian to be off on his nightly rounds of the bars and clubs yet. Justin was bursting to tell Brian his big news and thank him for recommending Ms. McMillan to the gallery, but there was no sign of Brian in either the main room or his bedroom. Justin didn’t really think much of it - they had never kept track of each other’s comings and goings before, and he hadn’t expected it now just because of last night. Brian was probably still at the office working on the presentation for next week, or else he’d gone out earlier than usual. Justin was a little bit disappointed but wasn’t going to let it get to him. He still didn’t really know how things with Brian would turn out, and he wasn’t going to overreact this early on.

The boy was far too tired though to wait up for Brian. He managed to finally get a real shower and then curled up with his sketch book in bed. It didn’t take long before Justin was snoring away, his dreams filled, only partly against his will, with images of Brian Kinney.

Sunday was the only day of the week that Justin got to sleep in a bit. The gallery wasn’t open until 1:00 pm on Sundays. He usually didn’t even emerge from his room until well after ten. This week, though, Justin was too excited to sleep in. He was up by eight and just itching to go wake up Brian. He was able to keep himself in check until just after 8:30, but then couldn’t take it any longer and quietly knocked on Brian’s closed bedroom door.

There wasn’t any answer. Justin waited a full minute and then knocked again, more loudly this time. There still wasn’t any answer. Eventually, Justin couldn’t take the suspense any longer and just went ahead and cracked open the door. . .  to find Brian’s room completely empty and his bed made.

‘So what if Brian had spent the night elsewhere’, Justin told himself. ‘He doesn’t owe me anything. We just slept together that one night. I didn’t really think that anything would change, did I?’

Justin tried to resign himself to what he thought was inevitable - Brian obviously didn't want more of a relationship. From now on, Brian would be avoiding him and they would only interact in limited, awkward situations. Justin tried to tell himself it was silly to get upset and that it was exactly what he’d expected. That brief appearance of a sentimental, tender Brian had just been a mirage. Justin knew what he was getting into and if he’d ignored his own better judgment when he jumped into bed with the man, he didn’t have anyone else to blame. Justin sighed and pulled Brian’s door shut behind him. Time to get on with life.

Justin and Daphne had lunch together before he started work that afternoon and he reluctantly brought his best friend up to date on everything that had happened between himself and Brian. She squealed, claiming she’d known it was going to happen from that first day they met Brian. She wasn’t nearly as understanding about the fact that Brian had apparently skulked off last night and slept somewhere else, though. Daphne was ready to track the man down and relieve him of his balls when she heard that part of the story. Justin barely restrained her from getting up that very moment. However, Justin was able to calm down his little defender eventually and then they agreed to get together for pizza that evening - Daphne ready to use the excuse so she would be ready for a Brian intervention when the man finally did show up at the apartment.

One large pizza, a six-pack of beer and several hours later, Justin and Daphne were passed out asleep on the couch and there was still no sign of Brian. Daphne was probably more disappointed than Justin was when Brian hadn’t shown up for a second night, since she was really itching for a confrontation. And again, when there was still no sign of Brian on Monday morning, both the youngsters bitched him out, maligned his character in general and then put it out of their minds while they hurried off to their respective studies and final exams.

Justin finished his last final on Tuesday. The only thing he still had left to do was to turn in his final Graphic Arts project - which he couldn’t do, because Brian still had all the prints. At the beginning of the week he’d been mostly just pissed off at Brian, thinking that the man was a coward for avoiding him like this. Assuming the Furry Friends' presentation had gone as well as they thought it would, Justin had really expected Brian to show up that night to celebrate and possibly share the triumph. However, he was starting to get just a tad bit worried when he still hadn’t seen Brian by Wednesday. And, it wasn’t just because he didn’t have his project to turn in. Justin was, by now, getting seriously worried about where Brian had disappeared to. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his roommate since the man had run out of the apartment half-dressed on Saturday morning. Justin couldn’t be sure, because he’d been working long hours and studying whenever he wasn’t working so he hadn’t been home much either, but it didn’t seem like Brian had been home at all the entire week. By the time Wednesday afternoon had come along and there was still no sign of the missing man, Justin started to freak out.

Justin had to admit that, despite living together for more than a month, he really didn’t know that much about Brian yet. Brian had never talked about his family much and, except for telling a few humorous stories about his friends back in Pittsburgh, Justin didn’t know anything much about Brian’s friends either. He didn’t think Brian had had enough time to make many friends here in the City, but if he had, he hadn’t talked about them. For some reason, Justin had never even gotten Brian’s cell phone number from him. Which meant that Justin really had no idea of where to start looking when he finally decided it was time to start worrying.

Obviously, the first place to start would be Brian’s work. Finding that phone number was simple but Justin really didn’t know what to say once he did call. All he found out was that Mr. Kinney was out of the office when he phoned and then he was shunted through to Brian’s voicemail. Again, since he really didn’t know what to ask and didn’t want to say anything that might cause Brian problems at work, Justin immediately hung up without leaving any message.

Justin begged Daphne to come over to the apartment on Wednesday evening after work to help him snoop through Brian’s stuff in an effort to find the names or numbers of someone who might know where the man was. They started off by going through Brian’s portion of the desk - finding nothing more exciting than paid utility bills. There did appear to be some paperwork about an apartment in Pittsburgh that a management company was supposed to be renting out but Justin didn’t see how that was going to help him find Brian here in New York. The only other thing of interest was a file of paperwork showing that Brian had already set up a pretty substantial trust fund for his son, Gus. But, again that didn’t help them find the missing man.

Justin and Daphne finally decided they had no other options but to search Brian’s bedroom. After rifling through the closet and all the drawers in the bureau, Justin was about to declare that this idea was a bust too. Then, just when they were about to give up, Daphne discovered a shoe box pushed to the very back of the closet shelf that was full of memorabilia. The two amateur detectives took the whole box with them out to the couch and began to snoop in earnest.

There wasn’t much in the box other than pictures and some small mementos that didn’t seem to have any connection to each other. None of the pictures were labeled so it wasn’t really possible to put a face to any of the names from Brian’s stories. The only picture that Justin was sure of was a snapshot taken of a smiling Brian sitting on a picnic bench next to a small boy. The boy looked so much like a younger version of Brian that he just couldn’t be anyone other than Gus. Justin was touched by the look of pride and happiness that shone from Brian’s countenance. His arm was around Gus’ back and the boy was laughing and smiling too. It was a beautiful picture. Justin couldn’t stand to put it back in the box. He put it aside, thinking that he might try to paint that scene sometime later.

“Finally!” Daphne shouted, digging around in the dregs at the bottom of the box. “I found an old address book with phone numbers, Justin.”

Unfortunately, ‘old’ was the most important descriptive term for this little book.

Justin remembered Brian saying that Gus’ mothers’ names were Lindsay and Mel. Luckily there weren’t a lot of names in the book and only one listing with the first name ‘Lindsay’. Justin decided to start there. If anyone would know where to find Brian, Justin thought it would be the mother of his son. However, all they got when they tried that phone number, was a recording that said the number was no longer in service.

The only name on the ‘K’ page was for a ‘Claire’ - no last name - but that number was disconnected too. Justin and Daphne began trying random numbers from the book, most of which weren’t working. The one time they did get through to a real person, the guy who answered said he’d never heard of a Brian Kinney and had only got this phone number last year. It seemed hopeless. Then, finally, Daphne got through to one more number listed in the book and she quickly handed the phone over to Justin.

"Little Debbie's House of Pasta!" a cheery voice said from the other end of the phone line. "If that's you, Michael, calling to tell me you're going to be late again for dinner, you better have a damn good reason. My baked ziti is about to burn because of you!"

"Um . . . Hi there! I'm not Michael. My name is Justin Taylor. I'm trying to locate Brian Kinney. You wouldn't happen to know how to get a hold of him or know where he is tonight, would you?"

"Brian? Sweetie, I'm sorry to tell you this, but Brian Kinney moved to New York a couple of months back. You're barking up the wrong tree if you're still trying to hook up with Brian, Honey," the voice said kindly but with with an edge of anger to the words.

"Uh, well, I know that. See, I'm his roommate here in New York. But I haven't seen him in almost a week and I was starting to get a little worried about him, so I was calling his friends to see if he'd checked in with anyone," Justin explained haltingly.

"Oh, well sorry, Sweetie. I didn't know Brian had a roommate. In fact, I haven't heard from the little asshole since he left the Pitts. I'm afraid I don't have a clue where he is right now. If I know Brian, he's probably out at some bar getting his dick sucked. I wouldn't worry about him too much, kid. Brian Kinney's never been exactly predictable. He used to up and disappear without word to me for days, too."

"Okay, well . . . Um, thanks anyway. Bye!" Justin was a little disconcerted by the derogatory way the woman had been speaking about Brian so he hung up quickly.

"Now what?" Justin asked his best friend as he sank into the couch in defeat.

"Shit! I don't know," Daphne admitted, pacing around the small room, now almost as worried as Justin. "I guess we start calling hospitals maybe? Or file a report with the police? You could try Brian's work again too - you said you never left a message and you only really talked to the receptionist, right? Maybe you need to talk to his boss?"

"I guess I'll have to. But I can't call Brian's office till the morning. What the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime? I swear, Daph, if Brian's doing this just because he's too chicken shit to face me after last weekend, or if this is his way of blowing me off, I'll fucking kill him." Justin was stuck halfway between worried and angry and not sure how he was supposed to react.

"Well, we might as well get started on calling some hospitals," Daphne suggested seeing as it was the only thing they could do that night. "Just give me a minute or two - I've gotta pee first."

Justin slumped back into the couch cushions, lifting up his feet to rest on the coffee table and in the process kicking aside an empty pizza box that was still sitting there from a couple of days before. If nothing else, the messy state the apartment had reverted to in the past couple of days was proof in itself that Brian hadn't been around even when Justin was out. The neat freak in Brian wouldn't have stood for the piles of dirty dishes in the sink, the empty beer bottles in the living room or Justin's dirty laundry, which had overflowed the hamper and was now cascading onto the bathroom floor.  

"Justin, your cat has done something really foul in the bathroom," Daphne announced as she came back into the living room. "Your bathroom smells like a cesspool. What the hell are you feeding that animal? Is he supposed to make smells like that?"

"Sorry, Daph. I guess I need to empty out the litter box. Without Brian around to make a big deal about it all the time, I kind of forgot," Justin confessed.

"Well, go do that right now. It's seriously horrible, Jus. I can't go back in there until you get rid of that stink!"

"Sheesh. What a baby. You're almost as bad as Brian!" Justin complained but got up off the couch nevertheless and slouched off to the bathroom.

Justin had to admit, that the litter box did reek a bit. Since Brian had bought the fancy mechanical litter box and concealing cabinet, Justin had gotten a bit lax on keeping the box clean. Out of sight, out of mind, right? But, it was definitely smelly enough that it couldn't be put off any longer even it you couldn't see the mess. He pulled open the cupboard doors and the odor instantly tripled. Justin pulled the neck of his t-shirt up over the lower portion of his face to act as a pseudo-breathing mask and then bent down towards the machine. It really only took about two minutes to pull open the side panel and remove the plastic baggy that was full of used clumps of litter and other refuse.  Justin quickly tied the top of the bag into a knot, set it aside and got out a fresh bag for the machine. He also dumped in a bit more cat litter and that was pretty much all it took to remedy the situation.

Justin pulled his head out from the neck of his shirt and then picked up the bag of cat poo. He wanted to take it straight to the garbage shoot in the main hall so that any risk of further bad odors offending Daphne was minimalized. As he lifted up the bag, though, Justin noticed that there were several pieces of something inside that weren't usually found in cat litter. These things were bright yellow and looked a lot like torn up pieces of one of Brian's annoying yellow sticky notes. The largest piece, which happened to be flush against the side of the clear plastic bag had writing on it.

‘Sunshine, I got. . .

Chicago for a few. . .

Sorry I didn’t get to . . .

Call me, please. .

610-444-32 . . .

I’ll miss yo. . . '

"Aarrrggghhh! Winston!" Justin screamed as he ran down the hall holding up the bag of cat poop containing the damning evidence of the furry critter's most recent crime.

It took Justin and Daphne fifteen minutes to sift through the bag full of dirty litter until they'd retrieved all the pieces. They shouldn't have had to bother - the gist of the note was clear enough from the couple big pieces that were on top - but Justin refused to stop looking until he found the tiny chewed up piece that showed the last two digits of Brian's phone number. It was a nasty, dirty, smelly job and Justin wasn't very fond of his cat by the time they finished.

"Hey, Brian," Justin responded hesitantly as soon as he heard Brian's low sexy baritone say 'Hello'.

"Sunshine. You finally called," Brian sounded happy to hear from him. "I was almost about to give up on you," Brian admitted. "When you didn't call me earlier in the week . . . I thought . . . Well, after the way I ran out of there the other morning, I thought maybe you were pissed off at me. . . I didn't mean to act like that . . . I don't do well talking about that kind of shit. . . But, you're not, are you? . . . Pissed off at me, I mean?"

"No. I'm not angry with you, Brian. If anything, I'm angry at Winston. Would you believe me if I told you that my cat ate your note? I didn't find it until tonight and then it took awhile to piece it back together and I couldn't find the piece with the last part of your phone number on it . . ." Justin started to explain the trials and tribulations associated with being owned by a rather controlling cat.

"The fuzzball ate my note? Why does that NOT surprise me? That damn cat sure has it in for me!" Brian was laughing, thinking about the crazy kitty antics. Then his tone changed, "Listen, Justin, I shouldn't have run out on you like that on Saturday. I just . . . This is all so new for me and I don't even know how to start . . . Fuck. I just can't do this over the phone, Sunshine, it's too . . . But I will explain. I'll be back on Friday morning. Can we talk about this then?"

"Of course, we can talk when you get home," Justin was smiling now and Daphne, who'd scrunched up next to Justin on the couch trying to listen in on the conversation, was smiling too. "I'm just glad you're okay. I was getting worried that maybe you'd been hit by a bus or something when you didn't show up all week."

"Hell, I didn't mean for you to worry," Brian interrupted. "I should have called, but when I didn't hear from you earlier in the week, I thought . . . Well, I was afraid . . . Never mind. See you on Friday?"

"Definitely."

"Later, Sunshine."

"Later!"

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

Chapter 16 - BAK Comes Back.

"Mr. Taylor?"

"Yes?" the ringing phone woke Justin bright and early Thursday morning.

"This is Jessica at Kennedy & Collins. Mr. Kinney asked me to call you and get the address where you wanted your work delivered this morning?"

"My work . . . Delivered?" Justin struggled to get his sleepy brain to understand the confusing words.

"Yes, Sir. Mr. Kinney's team is done with the artwork you provided and he asked me to have it delivered for you to your professor. I just need to know which school and your professor's name."

"Oh! Oh, yeah. Great. But, that's okay. I can come pick it up. You don't have to deliver it anywhere."

"Nonsense. Mr. Kinney specifically told me that you are far too busy and I should have it all delivered. It's really no trouble. I've already called the messenger service."

“Well, okay. If you’re sure. My professor’s name is . . . . “

“Thank you Mr. Taylor. I’ll see to that delivery immediately. Oh, and before I forget, Mr. Kinney asked me to tell you that the presentation was a big success, even though he wasn't here to personally see to it. The client loved it. He also asked me to get your email address for him. I think he has some other files he needs to forward to you.”

After giving Brian’s office his email and getting the delivery of his final project sorted out, Justin relaxed back into bed. Getting his final project delivered was really the only thing he had planned to do this morning. His shift at the art supply store didn’t start until 2:00 pm. Which meant that he didn’t have anything else pressing that he HAD to do. It was a very odd feeling for the usually busy young man.

Lying back in bed, Justin let his mind wander, trying to come up with a plan for his day. The prior day’s events and his brief conversation with Brian last night were at the forefront of his mind. He was so relieved that not only was Brian not missing, he also didn’t seem to want to avoid whatever this thing developing between them was. Brian seemed just as eager to talk about ‘things’ as Justin was. He’d admitted that he shouldn’t have run out of the apartment Saturday morning and was the first one to offer to ‘talk’. Brian had even said he was afraid and that this was all ‘new’ to him. Nothing in that conversation sounded like Brian was planning on blowing Justin off or avoiding him. Could Justin have been wrong? Was Brian Kinney maybe ready for more of a relationship than a one night stand? And, if so, was Justin ready for it? Did he even want it? Well, at the very least, Justin was relieved knowing that Brian hadn’t just run off from his bed to spend the past few nights in somebody else’s bed. That had to mean something, right?

But, that still didn’t explain Brian’s behavior. Or why the man seemed such a contradiction. What Brian said he was and the way he acted were so far apart. Justin had no idea which of those men he was going to see at any particular time. And, from what he got out of that short conversation with Brian’s old friend, Debbie, it sounded like most other people only saw Brian one way. Did Justin really think that he would be the one person who could get through to that inner Brian Kinney? Or were his friends right - was Brian really only an asshole who didn’t give a crap about his friends and family?

Well, he wouldn’t be solving the mystery of Brian Kinney by just lying around here all day. And, since there was no actual Brian available to distract him in other ways, Justin figured he’d best get up. Maybe, since it was now already December 19th, Justin had better start thinking about doing his holiday shopping. Especially since, thanks to Brian, he now had some money to spend on gifts.

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

Justin spent the rest of the day roaming the streets of New York, braving the stores packed with holiday shoppers and trying not to let the Christmasy soft-pop canned musak he heard everywhere get stuck in his head. It was so nice to have a bit of extra cash in his pocket for a change. He was definitely more extravagant with his gift purchases this year than he had been in a long while.

Most of his shopping was easy. He got his mother some earrings, Molly a gift certificate to download a bunch of whatever teeny-bopper music she was listening to these days, and he splurged on a gift certificate for a mani/pedi for Daphne, along with a copy of 'The Fag Hag Handbook' that he saw displayed in the window of a quirky little bookstore around the block from his apartment. That was pretty much the end of his shopping list, too - Justin knew his father wasn't going to get him anything and none of his other relatives were expecting the poor, disowned fag artist to get them presents so why bother.

The only person left that Justin wanted to get something for was Brian. But, what the fuck could HE get for someone like Brian? He didn't dare get the man something sentimental - not only would it be a waste of money but it would only earn Justin Brian's contempt, not his affection. But that didn't mean Justin could just go out and buy him something meaningless, like a sweater, either. What DID you get for your significantly older and more well-off roommate whom you'd slept with once and hoped to continue fucking well into the foreseeable future? Jewelry? Clothing? Personalized manacles? A year's subscription to the porn magazine of his choice? Yeah, Justin was sure that this gift wasn't going to be easy to decide on. The decision had to be tabled anyways, since it was nearly time for Justin to head to work. Hopefully Justin would have a stroke of brilliance when his conscious mind wasn't dwelling on the issue so much.

Right before he started work, Justin pulled out his phone to check his email. He quickly deleted the usual spam messages, skipped one from his mother that he planned to look at later that night and another from Daphne. There was one odd email though, from an address he didn’t recognize, with an attachment but no subject line. Normally, Justin wouldn’t even open something like that because of possible internet viruses, but for some reason the address ‘bakinblack@mail.com’ caught his eye. Taking a chance, Justin decided to open the message.

Apparently Justin’s old pair of traveling sneakers was in Chicago this week. There was a picture of the shoes sitting on the edge of the concierge desk at a hotel. There was another of the holey shoes sitting atop the pillows on a turned-down hotel bed. Then there was one of the shoes sitting on the edge of a brightly lit hotel pool. The rest of the afternoon, about every two hours or so, Justin would feel his phone vibrating in his pocket, indicating he’d received another email. All of them had photo attachments without any subject line and without any other words in the body of the message. And, each was a different picture of his old, holey shoes in a different location. These shoes really got around too. There was a picture of the shoes lying on the cement in front of the Millenium Park Cloud Gate, one by the old Chicago Theater, one where the shoes were waiting on the stairs of some grand old Chicago mansion and another where the shoes were waiting to get into Wrigley Field. The last picture of the night was the shoes resting on top of a hotel bathroom vanity right next to Brian’s toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste.

Each of the pictures gave Justin another little boost of fun. The extra effort that Brian had gone through to carry his dirty old sneakers around the city and take all these silly photos really blew Justin away. The very fact that Brian had bothered to take the admittedly disgusting things with him on his business trip was remarkable. But for him to do something so playful, thoughtful and even romantic was truly surprising. Justin wasn’t sure that he’d ever figure Brian Kinney out. It certainly wasn’t helping Justin decide how he should be reacting to Brian Kinney.

Whatever the reason was behind Brian’s little joke emails, they did help him get through the rest of his work shift more painlessly than usual. Justin finished up the last big framing order that had been waiting for him and was on his way home before 9:00pm. He found himself almost skipping on his way home. The pictures of his stupid old shoes kept arising in his mind’s eye causing him to chuckle at all sorts of inappropriate times. When he tried to stop thinking about the sneakers, the only other thing that he could think about was that Brian would be home tomorrow morning. Justin was looking forward to that more than he probably should, but he couldn’t really help it. He just hoped that when he did see Brian, they would be able to figure some things out.

Justin was far too wired when he did get home to try to sleep. He tried flipping through the television channels, but nothing seemed to catch his interest. Pacing around the vacant rooms wasn’t helping him to calm down. He thought briefly about cleaning up a bit before Brian got back but that was sure to put him in an even worse mood, so what was the point of that? Finally, Justin’s line of vision lit upon Brian’s box of mementos that he and Daphne had been rummaging through last night. On the top was the enchanting picture of Brian and Gus that Justin had admired so much. He picked it up and examined the touching father and son moment again, suddenly coming up with the perfect idea for Brian’s Christmas present.

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

“Unnnnnnhhh. Go away,” Justin mumbled and then rolled over away from the annoyingly bright sunshine streaming through his window and the equally annoying person that was apparently trying to wake him.

“You don’t mean that, Sunshine,” a sultry deep baritone voice replied, accompanied by a tiny nipping bite to Justin’s earlobe.

“Brian?” the sleepy blond rolled over and tried to see through squinting eyes if the voice really did belong to his errant roomie.

“You were expecting someone else to be sneaking into your room, biting your earlobe and fondling your morning woody?” This time, the low, lascivious voice was bolstered by a small chuckle and then a warm hand snaked under the covers and started tickling down the side of his torso and then lower and lower until it found something interesting that it could grab onto.

Justin groaned loudly as Brian's fingers clenched tightly around his full cock, pulling slightly and twisting a bit at the tip to get his full attention.

"Daddy! Daddy! Lookee, s'cat!" Squeaked a very young, high-pitched little voice from the vicinity of the hallway.

Brian had just enough time to yank back his hand, slyly licking a trace of cum off his index finger, before Justin's bedroom door was kicked open and the most adorable dark-haired child came traipsing into the room dragging along a very irritated Winston.

"Daddy! S'cat!" the boy delightedly shouted, attempting to lift up the furry grey feline that was draped with its front paws over the kid's forearm, the rest of the cat dangling inelegantly down so that his rear paws snagged at the carpet.

"Yes, Gus. I see that you found Winston," Brian snickered evilly as the kitty looked helplessly up at him, silently begging for assistance. "Winston, I'd like to introduce you to my son, Gus. He's going to be your best friend and inseparable companion for the next three days."

"Mine!" Gus giggled with glee jumping up and down, still holding the cat, jarring the nauseated looking kitty over and over.

"Yes, he's all yours, Gus," Brian agreed, winking at Justin while Gus dragged the cat back out to the other room.

"Maybe the fuzzball will think twice next time he eats my notes or tears up my condoms!" Brian smiled maliciously.

"Oh, Brian," Justin almost wailed, squirming out from under the covers and looking around for clothes so he could go save his poor cat. "You really don't want to make ANY cat your enemy. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, do you?"

"Oh come on, Sunshine. Gus won't really hurt him. Maybe the fuzzball will even like getting all that attention." But Brian just couldn't stop snickering more with every shriek of excitement they heard coming from Gus in the other room. "Besides, if the cat keeps Gus busy enough, there'll be more time for us . . ." Brian pulled Justin off balance and back against his chest right as Justin was trying to put one foot into the pair of jeans he'd found.

"Mmmmmm. As tempting as that sounds . . . and feels," Justin sighed as Brian licked and nibbled up the side of his neck, "I think I should be dressed when I officially meet your son."

"Suit yourself, Sunshine," Brian relented as Justin squirmed out of his grasp. "But you know that the kid won't even notice you're alive as long as Winston is anywhere in sight. You could go out there naked, painted blue and lit on fire and he probably wouldn't bat an eyelash."

"Poor Winston," Justin pulled on a tee and had already started towards the door.

Brian followed behind the concerned cat owner. They found the child sitting in the middle of the floor right by the front door, Winston in Gus’ lap, being pawed over rather roughly by the curious three year old. The not-so-young-anymore cat looked up at his person and opened his furry mouth in a pathetic, silent 'Mow'. Justin rushed to Winston's aid but before he could get within arms length, Gus had the cat clutched to his chest in a stranglehold.

"Mine!" asserted the preschooler definitively, startling Justin and eliciting more laughter from the doting father.

Approaching more cautiously a second time, Justin knelt down slowly about two feet from where Gus was squeezing all the air out of the cat's body.

"Hello, Gus," Justin said in his best 'calm the child' voice. "I'm really excited to meet you."

"MINE!" Gus wasn't going to be cajoled into giving up HIS fuzzy friend by some sweet talking, stranger. "Daddy said it's my kitty!"

"Briiiiiaaaan!" Justin turned back to the snorting brunet behind him, begging for assistance.

"Hey, Gus," Brian finally relented - a bit. "If you're nice to Justin, he might show you where he keeps the fuzzball's treats. And, if you promise to be good and not strangle the cat, you can feed him a little snack, okay?"

"Yay!" Gus was immediately on board with that idea.

He jumped up, towing Winston along with him but allowing his grip to loosen up enough to let the cat breathe.

"C'mon, Jus'n," the little boy grabbed at the hand of his new cat care assistant. "I'm gonna feed my cat. You can help."

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

Justin spent the rest of the morning following Gus around - who was busy following Winston around - and doing his best to make sure the tyke didn't love HIS new kitty to death. Brian was thoroughly amused by the entire situation. He refused to lift a finger to help restrain his son's overly affectionate gestures towards 'The Fuzzball'. In an act of desperation, Justin finally bartered the 'best blowjob you've ever had' (after Gus went down for his nap), in exchange for help separating the kid and the cat before one of them killed the other.

"Hey, Sonnyboy," Brian said with his best smirk as he finally got up off the couch to intervene. "I know a place that has grilled cheese sandwiches that are almost as good as your Grandma Debbie makes 'em. And, if you're good, I'll get you an ice cream cone for dessert."

"Yay!" Gus screamed, again jumping to his feet in his boundless enthusiasm, and still gripping the cat as he started already for the door.

"Sorry, Sonnyboy, but Winston is an indoor only kitty. You'll have to leave him here while we go to lunch," Brian explained.

"No. He's mine!"

"Gus, don't argue," Brian said in full-out parent voice. "Winston stays here. Besides, you don't want to take him outside where he might get scared and lost? He should stay here where he's safe. You can play with him again later after you both have naps."

"But, Daddy . . ."

"Gus, if you keep arguing there will be NO ice cream."

"Fine," Gus pouted, but finally released the cat, who dashed away into hiding as fast as his short, furry legs would carry him.

"Good boy. Now get your shoes and your coat," Brian smiled indulgently down as the boy scurried around searching for his things.

"Bribery, Brian?" Justin dismissed Brian's questionable parenting techniques. "I could have done that."

"Hey, don't knock it, Sunshine. Ice cream will get you a long way where Gus is concerned," Brian insisted, handing the exhausted younger man his own jacket. "Now, let's get you some food so you'll be fully fueled and have plenty of stamina for 'naptime' later!"

Justin felt sufficiently rejuvenated by the time they were halfway through their lunch. Brian had taken them to a New York style deli not too far from the apartment. Gus was happily, and for the most part quietly, munching away at his grilled cheese sandwich and fries, while Brian toyed with his turkey on whole wheat - dry - and Justin wolfed down his Double-Decker Chicken Cordon Bleu sandwich with fries and potato salad and two sodas. The two older men were catching up a bit on what they’d each been doing the past week.

Brian explained that his work on the Furry Friends account had garnered him this athletic goods account opportunity and he’d been forced to fly out to Chicago with only three hours notice on Saturday. The good news was that, not only had the pet travel agency ads been well received, he’d nailed the athletic goods account - singlehandedly - and had returned triumphantly this morning with contract in hand. He was very optimistic about how this would help him up the ladder at work, not to mention the big bonus he’d be getting next quarter. Brian did warn that he would likely be bugging Justin for help with the artwork for the new account, since no one at Kennedy & Collins seemed to be able to draw a straight line with the help of a ruler. Justin told Brian about Ms. McMillan’s visit to the gallery and her purchase of two of his paintings. Brian seemed just as ebullient as Justin over his first two professional sales.

Justin eventually confessed to the fact that he’d gone through Brian’s stuff when he’d been so worried about his roommate’s disappearance. Luckily, Brian didn’t seem in the least disturbed by this revelation. Justin even told Brian about his short conversation with Debbie, but he didn’t reveal how indignant the woman’s disdainful comments about Brian had made him feel. Which was a good thing, since Brian immediately launched into a series of fond memories about Debbie, who he referred to as his ‘Surrogate Mom’. Justin didn’t like to think that anyone’s mother, surrogate or otherwise, would say such derogatory things about someone, but he didn’t really know Brian that well and had never met the mysterious Debbie, so he decided to hold back judgment on the situation. Who was he to talk, after all - his own relationship with his mother had been strained since the whole Dartmouth debacle.

It was a good thing he didn’t bring up his concerns about Brian’s Pittsburgh ‘family’, since the mere mention of Debbie brought up a whole slew of new reminiscences about Debbie, Michael and Brian’s youth. Even Gus piped up with some funny tales about his Grandma Debbie. She sounded like quite the character. Justin was even more confused about how to react to Debbie after hearing all the fond stories. Maybe, when or if he met this woman, he could form a more substantive opinion. Until then, Justin decided to reserve judgment.

As to why Brian and Gus had arrived at the apartment at the same time, Brian explained that, since he was so late getting back from Chicago, he’d arranged with Gus’ mothers to meet them at the airport when their flight arrived. Brian had seen the ladies off to their hotel and taken immediate possession of his son. He apparently had Gus until Tuesday morning when the boy would fly back to Pittsburgh with the ‘Munchers’ to spend Christmas with the rest of the family. Brian had already confirmed with his work that he had today off after his extended trip to Chicago. He wasn’t sure that he would be able to take the whole day off on Monday, though, but he figured it would work out somehow.

As soon as Gus had finished his sandwich and was equipped with the requisite ice cream cone, the three of them vacated the deli and walked over to a little park that Brian had already scoped out nearby. Brian and Gus ran around the park for at least a half hour, and Justin was hard pressed at moments to point out which one of them was the child. Brian seemed so much more relaxed and carefree around his son than Justin had ever seen him. Brian was smiling pretty much the whole time - an easy, unforced smile that glowed from inside the man in a way that lit up his entire being - and Gus’ smile echoed his father’s perfectly. Justin was tempted to join in but found himself even more compelled to sketch what he was seeing so he sat out most of the more energetic stuff.

Eventually both Brian and Gus were tired enough to admit it was time to head home. Gus was even too tired to walk on his own the whole way, so Brian picked him up and seated the boy on his shoulders before they were even a block away from the park. It was such an adorable sight that Justin ran ahead a few paces and snapped a photo of the two, incurring Brian’s half-hearted wrath. Justin had so many new ideas after watching the father and son together - he couldn’t wait to get back to his easel and start working on them all.

Gus could barely keep his eyes open by the time they all got back to the apartment. He had a momentary burst of energy when he remembered about his cat, but since there was absolutely no sign of Winston anywhere, Gus gave up and let his father put him in Justin’s room for a nap. Brian was extremely glad that the tyke was so easy to get to sleep, since he was more than ready for his own naptime activities. Brian wasn’t about to let Justin forget the promise he’d made earlier in exchange for relief from the Gus and Winston situation.

As soon as Brian had Gus settled, he came stalking back out to the main room with a sexy smirk on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. All of a sudden, Justin found himself feeling incredibly shy. It made no sense. He wasn’t exactly a virgin - he’d been away from home at college for going on three years now and had been living with Connor for a good portion of the past year. But, reconnecting with this enigma, Brian Kinney, had Justin feeling like he didn’t know anything. Justin felt like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. His pants were far too tight through the crotch but he didn’t want to seem overly desirous which made Justin feel unaccountably self-conscious. That predatory look on Brian’s face didn’t help matters much, either. Justin felt a bit like a defenseless jungle creature about to be pounced on by a voracious jaguar.

Brian didn’t seem at all deterred by Justin’s seeming shyness. He paced around the back of the couch, looking like he was about to leap onto the hesitant blond cowering against the far edge of the sofa. Justin was sure he looked ridiculous, he was nervously biting at his lower lip and probably had worry lines across his forehead. That wasn’t about to deter Brian Kinney, though. The man was ready for his own naptime adventures.

“Oowwww!” Brian’s attack was interrupted mid-lunge as he prowled around the end of the couch and unexpectedly tripped over a stray empty beer bottle that had rolled just out of sight under a section of the newspaper that had been tossed on the floor after being read, causing the man to topple sideways over the arm of the couch. “Justin . . . You fucking slob! I was gone less than a week and look what you’ve done to the place. I can’t even walk into the living room without injury. Did you and Daphne throw a fucking party or something? There must be two dozen empty beer bottles sitting around here and I don’t know how many pizza boxes. . . .”

Brian kept on muttering complaints about the disastrous state of the apartment while he rubbed at the sore spot on his thigh where he’d hit the arm of the sofa. The silly pratfall had broken up the tension enough for Justin, who was giggling and no longer feeling quite so shy. He perked up from his corner and leaned over to help massage away the pain in Brian’s leg. And, while he was bent over Brian’s crotch like that, with the man pouting so adorably and complaining about getting hurt and the mess upon his return and all the indignities that had been unfairly heaped upon him, Justin regained his confidence and his libido and summarily unzipped Brian’s jeans. That effectively shut up Brian’s ranting in short order. Brian simply sighed and eased back against the cushions so that Justin had more ready access.

Justin immediately ascertained that his memories of what he’d find inside weren’t exaggerated. Brian’s cock was already straining against the seams of his clothing by the time Justin got the zipper far enough down that Brian’s deep purple rod could pop out, proudly peeking around to see what was going on this afternoon. It was a delectable sight and forced an eager moan out of the willing youth.

The mere sound of that moan triggered a droplet of pre-cum to percolate out of the slit at the end and Justin couldn’t restrain his tongue from stretching out to taste the little pearl. The salty, sweet taste hit Justin’s tongue and he immediately started to salivate like one of Pavlov’s dogs hearing the feeding bell. Every synapse of his young body knew exactly how to react to that wondrous taste, that silky, firm texture and the warmth radiating from the pulsing blood under the smooth skin that met his tongue. Justin’s own dick got hard so fast he thought he might black out from the instantaneous redirection of all the blood in his own body down to his groin. The only thing that kept Justin focused was the little growl of pleasure that Brian couldn’t hold back at that first tentative touch.

“Justin . . . *whhooooo* . . . fuck, I missed you,” Brian whimpered as Justin’s lips started sucking in little nibbles of skin all along the length of Brian’s painfully hard shaft. “You have the most exquisite mouth I’ve ever felt. Those beautiful lips were made to suck cock . . . my cock,” the older man didn’t seem to have any remaining control over the words that were coming out of his mouth unrestrainedly at this point. “So good . . . so fucking good . . ."

Justin was inspired by the sensual words his actions were eliciting. He started licking away at the long firm rod, starting low at Brian’s full balls and slowly trailing his tongue all the way up and up and up, then flicking seductively at the very tip in an evil, whiplike motion that Brian didn’t know was possible with a mere tongue. The end of each long stroke brought Brian to the edge of orgasm each time, amazing him at how fast this boy had stimulated him. He felt like a fucking schoolboy who couldn’t control himself, but he loved it too much to even try to hold back. It was only the momentary pause between each long lick that kept back the rising tide of sweet, sour pleasure that was welling up from his gut.

Justin was trying to hold himself back at the same time, without much more success than Brian was having. He was slowly humping against Brian’s leg as he sucked and licked and bit at the treasure he’d found. How could it be that giving a blow job to this evocative man was almost as invigorating as getting sucked off himself? All Justin knew was that the more he gave this man, the more stimulated he became himself, and it egged him on to greater creativity. He trilled his tongue along the hot shaft in fantastic patterns and caressed every single throbbing vein and wrinkle of skin with hungry lips. Then, finally, when Justin was almost ready to shoot himself, he engulfed the entire heavy span of Brian’s cock and swallowed it whole as he lightly tickled along the stippled skin under his tightening balls. Brian keened, his cry half pleasure, half unbearable longing, as he shot ribbons of warm cum into Justin’s rapacious mouth. Justin came in his pants three heartbeats later.

“If this is the homecoming I’m going to get, I’ll have to find more excuses to go out of town, Sunshine,” Brian panted as he pulled the boy up to lie against his chest while they both caught their breath.

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

Chapter 17 - Gus in Toyland.

Gus woke up from his rather short nap determined to find Winston. He crawled out of bed and tottered out to the main room, not really interested in the least to find his father and Justin curled around each other and apparently trying to eat each other’s faces off. All Gus wanted was to find his kitty. Brian managed to tuck himself away and pull up his pants before Gus turned to demand that he help find the missing feline. Justin scurried away to his room to change his pants while Brian allowed himself to be dragged around the room looking in every corner, nook and crannie for the missing Winston. Justin saw two worried looking big green eyes staring out from behind the boots in the back of his closet but didn’t say a word to the three year old that might give away Winston’s hiding place.

The stubborn toddler didn’t give up on his search for the cat for more than a half hour. At that point Brian had to quell an incipient tantrum by distracting Gus with a Disney video and promises of more fun activities later that night. Gus eventually relented with bad grace and allowed himself to be seated in front of the television while Brian scrambled to figure out what to do for the rest of the night. Justin watched Brian floundering for a while. It was fun to see how upset the indulgent father was getting when he was unable to humor his little boy. After a few minutes of discrete laughter, Justin stepped up and offered a possible suggestion.

“Hey, Gus,” Justin piped up when it looked like ‘Winnie the Pooh’ was no longer going to hold the boy’s attention. “Have your mommies taken you to see Santa yet this year? Because, if not, I happen to know he’s visiting here in New York this weekend and we could probably go see him and you could give him your Christmas List.”

Gus looked up in awe at this statement. He shook his head ‘no’ without saying anything and just stared at Justin. The boy’s mouth was hanging open slightly and he seemed befuddled by the very idea of going to actually SEE Santa.

“One of Gus’ mommies is Jewish,” Brian murmured in an aside to Justin, trying to deflect the avid young blond from this perilous course of action. “They don’t really emphasize Christmas. They usually celebrate Hanukkah instead.”

“But, I thought you said they were going to be celebrating Christmas in Pittsburgh with your family,” Justin pointed out, anxious that he’d put his foot in his mouth big time.

“Yeah, but only because Deb insists every year. I don’t think Gus has ever been to see Santa before,” Brian admitted.

“Well! This is a perfect time to tackle that problem,” Justin declared, undeterred by Brian’s clearly uncomfortable poise at the very mention of Santa. “You, Mr. Kinney, are now living in New York City and you’re entertaining your three year old son for the weekend before Christmas. That means that you are virtually obliged to take your son to F.A.O. Schwarz to see Santa. Sorry, but it’s basically a parenting requirement.”

“Justin. . . .” Brian tried to dissuade the insistent youth without making a big deal about it.

“Daddy? Is it true? Is Santa here in N’York?” Gus was standing next to Brian and tugging at the leg of his jeans. “Mamma said that Santa only ever came to Gramma Debbie's house. He didn't ever come to our house in 'Pissburg'.”

“Um. . . I don’t know, Gus. . .  I. . . I really don’t . . . .” Brian was trying to be hard and resist the sad puppy-dog eyes looking up at him with clear longing, but he wasn’t nearly that tough. “Fine. We’ll go to see Santa. Go get your coat and shoes. Oh, and Sunshine . . . You’re coming too - you can stand in the fucking line while Gus and I play with the toys until it’s time.”

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

More than two hours later Justin was still standing in line at ‘Santa’s Village’ while Brian and Gus rampaged through the many floors of F.A.O. Schwarz, playing with every toy they could find and checking every fifteen minutes or so to see where Justin was in the line. It wasn’t entirely clear who was having more fun playing with all the toys - Brian or Gus - they both seemed fascinated with everything they saw, each new thing somehow topping the last even though every single toy they came across was pronounced ‘awesome’ by one of the two.

When Justin was only five people back from the head of the line, Brian and Gus magically appeared and insinuated themselves back into the queue. Brian seemed almost as nervous about meeting Santa for the first time as Gus. The tall, well-dressed executive was bouncing on his toes and fidgeting. Justin tried to calm him discretely by reaching out and grasping Brian’s hand. Brian looked over at him with wonder at the simple gesture but he did stop joggling around and squeezed Justin’s hand back.

Finally, after all the hoopla, it was Gus’ turn to be escorted by an ‘Elf’ towards the older man with the beard sitting on the throne-like chair amid five-foot high fake candy canes and elaborate two-foot tall snowflakes. Gus looked back at his father apprehensively. Brian tried to smile bravely at the boy, but Justin could tell from the tension in his grip that the man wasn’t all that comfortable with the situation either. Justin didn’t know what to make of Brian’s strange reaction to a visit with Santa, but he saw that Gus at least was enthralled.

“Hello there, young man,” Santa said with a deep baritone voice. “You look familiar but Santa’s getting old so you’ll have to remind me of your name, little man.”

“ . . . . . .” Gus’ mouth opened to respond but nothing came out.

“His name is Gus,” Justin offered from the sidelines. “This is his first time visiting New York and his first time visiting Santa. He might be a bit shy.”

“That’s quite all right!” Santa asserted and laughed jovially as he gave Gus a little squeeze. “So, little man, how are you enjoying your visit to New York?”

“. . . . My Daddy got me a cat. His name is Winston,” Gus finally managed to find his words and he launched wholeheartedly into a complete explanation for the big guy in the red suit. “He’s grey with stripes. I couldn’t find him today when I got up from my nap but Daddy said we’d find him again when we got back home. I live in 'Pissburg'. My Momma is Jewish so I get lots of gifts at Hanukkah but this is the first year I’m gonna get to have Christmas. After I’m done visiting Daddy, my Mommy and Momma are going to take me to visit Gramma Debbie. Gramma Debbie always has Christmas, she says. She said I’m gonna get lots of presents. I don’t really need lots of presents, though. I’d really only like one present - to have my Daddy come visit me more - but he’s really busy and he just moved here to N’York and he can’t come to 'Pissburg' this year but I get to spend the whole weekend with him and Jus’n. That’s them standing over there - Hi Daddy! Hi Jus’n!” - So, I really just want to get to do lots of fun stuff with my Daddy while I’m here. But, if you do make it to 'Pissburg', I saw this really cool Lego set downstairs. It was a castle and it had a drawbridge that my Daddy showed me how to work and there was a cannon that shot out real little balls and it had a moat and . . . . .”

It wasn’t until the next little kid in line started getting antsy that Santa managed to quiet Gus’ enthusiastic tirade. He promised, with a wink towards where Brian and Justin were waiting on the side, that Gus would get that Lego set he wanted and told him he would make sure to mark on his map where Gus would be on Christmas night even though he would be at Gramma’s in Pittsburgh. Then, the officious elf took control and hustled Gus off so the next little child could come and talk to Santa. Gus didn’t stop talking even when he was ousted from Santa’s lap - he kept shouting additional ideas over his shoulder at the man who was trying to concentrate on the next child. Justin hurried off to purchase the official Santa Visit photo from the nearby elf as Brian distracted Gus and let him babble on about his Christmas list. Then, as soon as Justin returned, the two men exchanged a short silent communication that involved heads tilting and eyebrows being lifted, fingers pointing and words being silently mouthed, and eventually ended up with Justin taking Gus off to look at some display or other while Brian surreptitiously snuck back down to the floor where the Lego’s were located. When the man returned a little while later, Brian was toting a rather large shopping bag and seemed to be highly pleased with himself.

Justin and Gus both conspired, with much whining and begging, to make Brian take them out for dinner as soon as they left the toy store. Justin recommended John’s Pizzeria which was just a couple blocks away from where they were and offered great NYC slices. Brian agreed, with only a minimal amount of grumbling. The two boys had huge slices of pepperoni - Justin showed Gus how to fold his slice in half like all New Yorker’s - and Brian picked at a mostly wilted salad. But, everyone was in a good mood when they left so it wasn’t a total wash. Gus and Justin had the best time looking at the decorative Christmas lights and the display windows of the Midtown department stores as they headed back towards home. As the grand finale to the night, Justin talked Brian into treating everyone to Frozen Hot Chocolates at Serendipity. Then, the sated, wind-kissed group loaded into a cab and was whisked away back to the apartment in SoHo.

As soon as they got home, Gus was insistent that Winston finally be found so he could be forcibly loved. The little boy refused to take his bath, get ready for bed, or do anything else other than stand in the middle of the living room floor, his feet set wide and his arms crossed with a relentlessly stubborn look on his sweet little face. He looked so utterly determined that Justin finally gave in and went to roust Winston from his hidey hole in the back of the closet. Gus squealed with joy as soon as the cat was brought out.

Justin insisted that Gus sit quietly on the couch before he would bring Winston to him. Gus, who would do anything to get his hands on his new pet again, scaled the couch cushions and sat himself down with both hands held out. Justin sat down next to Gus and gently put Winston in Gus’ lap.

"Okay, Gus. If you want to be one of Winston's people, you need to learn some rules about cats," Justin started to explain, guiding Gus' little hands so they would be stroking the animal’s fur in the correct direction. "First of all, cats aren't like dogs. Cats are stubborn and intelligent and independent. You don't really own a cat - the cat chooses to stay with you if he likes you. That's why you always have to be respectful towards your cat."

"Like how Mommy says I got to respect grown ups and not interrupt them when they talk too much?"

"Exactly. Only, the way you show a cat respect is by always making sure the cat is comfortable and not scared. Winston hates to be carried around - he'd rather walk on his own. He also likes it when you sit down quietly so he can get into your lap and get comfy. Here, I'll show you how Winston likes to be petted. . ." Justin spent the next twenty minutes explaining to the curious boy everything about being owned by a cat. Brian sat nearby and beamed at the two, amazed at how intently Gus was listening to Justin’s instructions. The longer that Gus sat still and didn’t make any loud noises or startling movements, the calmer the cat became until he relaxed enough to stretch out his paws across Gus’ knees. Justin knew his intervention was a success when Winston made his kitty sentiments known by settling into a loud, rumbling, contented purr.

“I think that’s enough cat education for one night, boys,” Brian finally announced and picked up his son from the couch, throwing him over one shoulder with a ear-splitting eruption of giggles from the little boy that resembled him so much. “You, my dear offspring, need a bath and then it’s off to bed with you. I’m sure Justin has a full day of fun planned for us tomorrow - complete with uncounted sugary treats and lots of fried foods - which I will have to punish him for later. So, you better get plenty of sleep, Sonnyboy.”

Justin and Winston stayed put on the couch and watched with amazement as Brian Kinney went into full-out father mode. Brian cajoled Gus into the bathtub, helping him wash his hair amid splashing and tickling and other un-Kinney-like expressions of hilarity. Then, rolling the little boy up in a giant, fluffy bath sheet, he hoisted the little boy off towards his room and assisted with the finding and donning of pajamas. When he was dressed in a zippered fleece sleeper, there was the ritual of brushing teeth and getting a glass of water, and then Gus had to give both Justin and Winston goodnight hugs. Finally, Brian told the boy to go jump in bed, to which Gus agreed provided that his Daddy would be there in a minute to read him a story. Brian plopped down onto the couch next to Justin and let out an exhausted sigh. The man looked tuckered out but in a happy, fulfilled way that was so charming. Justin couldn’t help himself - he leaned over and gave the half-smiling, full raspberry red lips a very light little kiss that easily conveyed his approval at Brian’s devotion to his son.

“You’re adorable with Gus,” Justin whispered into the available ear, nibbling a little on the sensitive lobe to make his point.

“Brian Kinney is NEVER adorable,” the man replied indignantly, flipping Justin over and pinning him on his back on the couch in mock anger. “I’m sexy, hot, sometimes an asshole, but I refuse to be called adorable. You take that back, Sunshine, or I’ll have to add that to the list of things you’re getting punished for.”

“Nope. I won’t take it back,” Justin giggled while trying to squirm out from Brian’s grip. “I can’t because it’s true.”

“I’ll show you how adorable I am,” Brian practically growled as he manhandled Justin over his knee and started swatting him on the ass playfully, pretending to be outraged while he barely held back a giggle or two of his own.

Justin eventually managed to wriggle free and crawled away from the couch to the far side of the coffee table. Brian was going to follow when all the fun was interrupted by Gus’ yell of “Daddy, I’m ready for my book”. Brian looked across the small table they’d been circling around and smiled bashfully.

“On my way, Sonnyboy,” Brian yelled back, winking at his still-giggling blond playmate. “I’ll be back for you later, Sunshine.”

“Promises, promises. . . .” Justin teased, sticking out his tongue and laughing even harder at the exasperated look which that got him from the tall, usually reserved older man.

“Daddy!”

Brian shook his head at the impish blond and backed away down the hall towards his bedroom.

“Gus? Where are you, Sonnyboy?” Brian yelled when he got to his bedroom but didn’t see his son in the bed.

“I’m in my bed, Daddy,” Gus’ voice rang out of Justin’s room.

By the time Brian got to the other bedroom, Justin was right behind him, curious about what Gus was up to now. Gus was already under the covers in Justin’s big queen-sized bed and had obviously made himself at home in the room with all his clothing laid out on the top of the dresser and his toys and books on the bedside table. Apparently, Gus had decided this was his room now.

“Sonnyboy, this is Justin’s room. I thought you would sleep with me while you visited,” Brian said, pulling back the blankets and already determined that Gus would be moving.

“No, Daddy. I want this room. I’m a big boy and I don’t need to sleep with you. I like having my own room. You and Justin can sleep in your big bed together,” Gus declared as if it was settled. “Now, you can read to me. I want ‘Where the Wild Things Are’. And, you have to do the voices like Momma.”

“Sunshine?” Brian turned to look over his shoulder at the blond who was getting kicked out of his own room by an insistent three-year-old. “Are you okay with adjusting the room assignments? I promise not to hog all the covers.” Brian smiled saucily and waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Justin who didn’t really know what to think about this development - who would have guessed that Gus was such an inveterate matchmaker?

“I don’t know, Brian . . .” Justin felt like he was being put on the spot and it immediately got his dander up.  

“It’s okay, Jus’n,” Gus added, his tone indicating that he thought Justin was being illogical and just plain difficult. “Daddy never hogs the covers when I’m sleeping with him. You’ll be okay. Plus, he’s big and keeps you warm. You won’t even need covers.”

“I promise, Sunshine, that your virtue is safe - if you want it to be. . . .” Brian offered, rather insincerely, Justin thought. “Although, Gus is right that I do know some things we could do to keep you warm enough that you won’t need the covers.”

“Briannnn,” Justin tried to caution the unrepentant man, not really comfortable discussing those types of activities in front of a three year old.

“Daddy, read now!” Gus demanded, assuming in his own mind that the discussion had been resolved and that his Daddy and Jus’n would be sharing one bed just like his mommies always did.

“Okay, okay, Gus. I’ll read. And, Sunshine, we can finish talking about this after the Wild Things ‘show their terrible claws and gnash their terrible teeth’,” Brian succumbed to Gus’ persistence, grabbed the book off the nightstand, sat down on the edge of the bed and started in on the story. “The night that Max. . . “

Justin hovered in the doorway, listening to Brian reading the story. The book had been one of his favorites as a child too and he had almost all the lines memorized. Gus seemed to have it pretty much memorized too. He insisted that Brian use ‘Monster’ voices when the ‘Wild Things’ were speaking. Brian tried only halfheartedly to get out of it and then playfully launched into his best growly monster voice. When Brian came to the quintessential passage, ‘We’ll eat you up, we love you so’, he made the book interactive by growling even louder and pretending to bite and tickle at Gus’ tummy. Justin was awed by the endearing scene and the way that Brian seemed like a completely different person with his son. When he was with Gus, Brian was adorable, sweet, playful, funny, easygoing. . .  and so fucking hot. Justin was already rethinking his resolution to avoid Brian’s bed.

“All right, Sonnyboy,” Brian declared when he’d reached the end of the story and Max had woken up to find that his mother had brought the naughty boy dinner after all. “Time for you to get some sleep. We have all day tomorrow and Sunday to fill with adventures.”

“Night, Daddy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Sonnyboy,” Brian whispered and left a soft little kiss on the dark auburn hair of the child. “I’m really glad you’re here visiting me. Good night.”

Brian stood up and turned off the light beside the bed. He had the most flirtatious little smile on his face as he walked away from the bed towards where Justin was waiting. There was still a certain amount of predator in his demeanor - that was inherent to Brian Kinney's nature. However, Justin now saw that beneath that sexy, prowling lothario exterior, there was so much more. There was a softer, more vulnerable side to this man that he obviously tried to hide. Justin wasn't exactly sure why he even tried to hide it since that little glimpse of humanity just made the man even more irresistible. That line of Sendak's - ‘we'll eat you up, we love you so’, was still echoing in Justin's ears and he couldn't help thinking that right at this moment Brian looked absolutely, deliciously, edible. He could definitely eat Brian up.

Justin moved away from the door so that Brian could exit and pull the door almost all the way closed. He left it slightly ajar in case the child cried out or needed him in the night. But, as soon as Brian had moved a few inches away from the door, Justin could no longer hold back. That urge to eat Brian up whole was too overpowering. The young blond jumped at the unsuspecting older man and pinned him to the wall with a solid thump, pressing his body against the taller frame and sealing his lips onto Brian’s.

Brian’s warm crushed cranberry lips were totally unresisting. As soon as he overcame his initial surprise at Justin’s precipitate actions, he let himself acquiesce completely. Justin seemed like he was on fire with desire. He was nipping and licking at Brian’s lips, leaving sloppy wet kisses everywhere he could reach and his hands, all eight of them from what Brian could feel, were ravening over Brian’s body trying desperately to reach bare skin anywhere they could. This was NOT the demure, prudish, little angel that Brian had been expecting, especially after Justin’s show of trepidation about sharing a bed for the night, but who was he to complain when he was being ravaged by a delightful blond with the perfect bubble butt. Brian let Justin’s lips and hands roam at will and just went with the flow, more turned on than he would have thought he could be at the prospect of giving up control to this little demon who seemed intent on devouring him.

Justin was too busy climbing all over the tasty morsel of man he was intent on ravishing to notice that Brian was slowly edging them along the wall towards his own bedroom. When they reached the open doorway, they actually fell through, Justin landing on top of Brian and forcing out a curse from the man who’d served as the landing pad. However, not even this seemed to quell Justin’s lust. He simply kept kissing and biting and licking and nipping away at the man that had been such a provocation.

“Eat you up,” Justin muttered, in the few moments his mouth wasn’t occupied doing other more sensual things to Brian’s body. “So fucking sexy. . .”

Brian was astounded at the speed with which his clothing seemed to disappear after that. He didn’t mind, but this was definitely a change from the Justin he was used to. Before his pants were thrown halfway across the room, Brian managed to snag the spare condom he always kept handy out of the rear pocket. A blond dervish snatched the little foil packet out of his hand imperiously and had it open and rolled down Brian’s ready dick before Brian could blink. A crazy, lustful, insatiable Justin was just fine with Brian Kinney. He decided to lie back and let the youth do whatever he wanted, just so long as it involved Brian’s cock in some fashion.

Justin somehow managed to get his own clothes off without breaking contact between Brian’s body and his mouth for more than a millisecond. With Brian’s shirt miraculously disappearing, Justin now had access to yards and yards of tantalizing, tasty, Kinney skin, and his tongue was no longer focused on Brian’s lips. Justin’s slippery tongue glided over the slightly salty skin of Brian’s chest and lapped briefly at the little nubs of his hard nipples but didn’t tarry for long. He was a man on a mission and that mission involved getting to Brian’s cock in the shortest amount of time possible. Brian arched his back up as Justin’s wet mouth moved southward, trying to help out on the quest to find the real treasure. Justin groaned in victory when he finally reached the end of Brian’s treasure trail and ran his salivating tongue all over the prize he’d found, intent on supplying his own very special lubrication to the mix.

But, as soon as Brian was nice and slick, Justin - that libidinous little devil - was rearing up and ready to impale himself completely unprepared onto that lovely hard rod that was now sheathed and slippery and just waiting for someone to use it hard and well. Brian wasn’t really sure at this point whether or not he was really needed for the rest of this encounter, since Justin seemed to be doing pretty well on his own with Brian acting as a mere prop. Not that Brian was really going to complain, seeing as his dick was usually more than happy to prop up any ass that needed a little attention, especially a lovely full one like Justin’s. He did harbor a fleeting worry about the poor blond’s rather unready hole, but then, as soon as Justin had lined himself up and then sank down hard on that hot throbbing member, Brian completely forgot what he was about to object to.

It was a fast and furious ride. Justin was raring to go right out of the chute. Brian felt like a bucking bronco at the rodeo who only got his short eight seconds in which to show his style. Justin’s heels were firmly planted into Brian’s hide and raking down his sides in expert bareback rider form. Brian tried to give a spectacular buck or two, but there was no way he was going to throw this avid competitor. They were both more than ready for the culmination of this event - it had been a week since their last full go-round - and it only took ten or twelve thrusts before both the rider and his steed were screaming in climax. Brian figured that the judges would probably give them an excellent score based on their combined energy, agility, stamina and the heights to which Justin’s cum shot into the air as he came.

The intrepid rider collapsed as soon as his time ran out, dropping with a huge exhale of released passion onto Brian’s sticky chest. “That was a mighty nice ride there, Cowboy. But how about you give it another go, and this time, maybe you could try for more than eight seconds?”

“Yeeee Hawww!” the little cowboy mumbled as he panted and tried to regroup from his prior ride.

Chapter 18 - Christmas in New York.

When the alarm went off at 7:30 am, Justin groaned and rolled over, snuggling into the warmth of Brian’s side, wishing that the alarm would turn itself off. When it continued to beep annoyingly, he reached over Brian and knocked at the clock until he hit the correct button and the thing finally went silent. Brian obviously wasn’t ready to get up either, since all he did once the alarm was quiet was roll over to face Justin and wrap his arms around the toasty, warm blond boy, then sigh contentedly. They hadn’t really gotten much sleep the night before what with all the rodeo events that were going on till the wee hours of the morning. It was so tempting to just let himself melt back to sleep in that cosy, secure space where he felt so safe and cherished. Brian’s enticing morning hard on poking into his belly definitely wasn’t going to help convince him to get out of bed, either.  

However, Justin had to be to work at the gallery by 9:30 that Saturday. They were expecting a busy weekend of sales and lots of deliveries. Justin wished he could take the day off and join Brian and Gus for more fun adventures, but he knew there was no way he could leave his boss so short handed with no notice. Unfortunately, Justin would have to let Brian and his son fend for themselves for the day. And, he would have to get out of bed right now if he wanted to shower and get to work on time.

Justin crept out from under the blankets, trying not to let any drafts into the warm pocket of air where Brian was still snoozing, and tiptoed out of the room straight to the shower. Standing there with the hot water cascading over his skin, he smiled as he soaped off the crusty dried cum and sweat that covered his chest and stomach. Then, as soon as he remembered exactly how crazy and wanton he had been, and that it was him who had initiated things with Brian the night before, he cringed. He couldn’t understand WHAT had gotten into him. That was not how Justin Taylor normally reacted. The fact that he’d been living in the same small apartment with a virtual sex god for the past month and not getting nearly enough sexual release, was really not a good enough excuse. He should be ashamed of himself. . .  But, he really wasn’t. He couldn’t be. It had been too deliciously perfect. The very memory of all the things they had done over the past ten hours was more than enough to get him hard again. He let his right hand take over the remainder of the showering activities, using all that nice slippery lather to work out all the annoying stiffness in his cock, while he continued his wet and wild cowboy fantasies.

The extra-long shower made Justin even more pressed for time, which meant that when he ran into his own room to grab some clean clothes, he didn’t even notice that the bed, where Brian’s son had been sleeping last night, was empty. He was hopping on one foot, trying to get the other leg into a pair of slacks and pull his shirt over his head at the same time as he half-fell into the kitchen, intent on grabbing some form of sustenance that might resemble breakfast. Luckily, Justin’s head popped out of the collar of his shirt just in time so that he could avoid tripping over the kid and cat seated together in the center of the kitchen floor.

Winston immediately looked up at his person guiltily. Gus simply smiled a huge happy grin as he picked up two pieces of the cat’s dry, crunchy cat food out of Winston’s bowl - one in each pudgy little hand - and offered the piece in his left hand to Winston while he put the piece in his right hand into his own mouth and munched. Winston flicked his tail as if he knew that he probably shouldn’t be encouraging this, but opened his furry mouth and accepted the offering nonetheless.

“Hi, Jus’n!” Gus shouted around a mouth full of crunchy cat kibble. “Winston and I were hungry so we’re having cereal t’gether. Want some?”

“Uh . . . um . . .No thank you, Gus,” Justin was momentarily stunned by the scene and didn’t quite know how to respond, especially since it was really early in the morning and he hadn’t had any caffeine yet.

“I’m not s’posed to pour the milk without Mommy helping - so we’re just eating the cereal plain, but that’s okay. Winston said it would be better with milk though.” Gus announced informatively.

Justin’s brain started to kick in and he was about to yell and yank the bowl away from the kid and the cat in sheer disgust but then he stopped himself. He remembered that he’d splurged on the ‘All Natural’ with “Real Meat Flavoring’ brand of cat food the last time he’d been out shopping. He looked down at the boy who seemed to be perfectly happy eating the cat food and sighed. Justin figured it probably wouldn’t kill the kid. . . and, he’d already apparently eaten quite a bit. . . there wasn’t much that could be done about it now. . . yelling at the kid and scaring him wasn’t really the best response here was it. . . Oh fuck it, he had to get to work and it was really Brian’s problem, not his.

“Brian,” Justin yelled over his shoulder as he backed away from the impending conflict. “Gus is eating cat food. I’ve got to go to work. Have a great day! Bye!”  

“What?” Justin heard Brian roaring from the depths of the bedroom as he strategically retreated from the scene, grabbing his jacket and pulling the door closed behind him as a naked, angry and still half-asleep Brian came barrelling down the hall with a very perturbed look on his face.

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

“You have five new voicemail messages,” the impartial electronic voice informed him when Justin turned his phone on during his mid-morning break a few hours later. Justin made an anxious face before he hit the button that would play back the messages.

First Message:  “What the hell, Justin? You let my kid eat cat food? Where the hell did you run off to? Call me you twat!” Brian’s voice sounded pretty irate.

Second Message:  “Lindsey said it’s okay and I don’t have to take Gus to the hospital to get his stomach pumped, so I guess I don’t have to kill you, Justin. But, I’m still not happy. Call me.” Brian sounded almost as pissed but much less panicky, so Justin figured that was good.

Third Message:  “Gus reminded me you probably had to go to work. Any chance you could get off early, Sunshine? What the hell do I do with a three year old all day in New York City? Call me as soon as you get this.” Brian was getting less pissed off sounding but there was still that edge of panic in there that had Justin concerned.

Fourth Message:  “Look, I know you’re at work but I could really use some advice here, Sunshine. I don’t really do Christmas. I have no idea what to do with Gus today. I know you’d have a metric fuck ton of ideas that would keep Gus entertained. Please, call me.” Brian now had a definite pleading tone in his voice that made Justin smile at the same time as he felt just a tad guilty for not helping more.

Fifth Message:  “I give up, Sunshine! Gus is driving me crazy. Your cat is driving me crazy. I had to forcibly restrain Gus from following the stupid animal into the litter box. If you don’t call me back, then I’m going to give in and let Gus give your Fuzzball a bath. Just fucking call me, okay? Please!”  Brian sounded mostly desperate by the last message and Justin was almost doubled over with laughter.

Justin finally relented and pushed the right buttons to call his home number. Brian answered almost instantly and sounded even more flustered than before. Justin had to hold back the giggle that threatened to break out.

“Hey, Brian. Got your messages. . .”

“Then why the hell haven’t you called back already?” Brian didn’t sound pleased.

“Sorry, I only just now got a break. So, everything going okay at home? Gus and Winston seem like they’re bonding. . .” Justin tried to respond casually, trying to look on the bright side of what he’d grasped from the series of messages.

“Oh, fuck, yes. They’ve fucking bonded all right. Gus even wanted to use the Fuzzball’s litter box this morning instead of the damn toilet. It’s all your fault, Sunshine. When the hell are you going to be home to take over running interference?” Brian complained, in the whiniest voice Justin had ever heard the cocksure older man use to date. “I wasn’t joking about Gus giving the little monster a bath. If you don’t get here soon I won’t be able to stop him and I don’t really think you or the Fuzzball would like that,” Brian threatened.

“Brian, I can’t leave work right now. We’re swamped - it is the weekend before Christmas, you know.”

“But . . . Justin. . . I don’t know what to do,” Brian begged, sounding so forlorn that Justin’s heart stuttered in his chest. “I didn’t really do much Christmas shit as a kid. I . . . I want Gus to do all that stuff, but I . . . well, I don’t know where to fucking start.”

Justin’s compassionate soul went out to the pitiable man and he now understood a bit about why Brian had seemed so out of his element the night before while they were taking Gus to visit Santa. “Okay, Brian. I get the picture. Now, this is what you’re going to do . . . “

Justin quickly ran through a recommended itinerary for every kid in NYC the weekend before Christmas. Brian made him repeat a couple things, as if he was taking notes or something. The mollified father didn’t seem overly excited about a couple of the items on the list, but he stoically hmm’d and errr’d and didn’t throw up much of a fuss about any of them.

“That should keep you and Gus busy for the rest of the day. I’ll meet you as soon as I get off work, okay. You should be ready for dinner by then. I recommend Bill’s Bar and Burgers at Rockefeller Center. If we meet up there before 5:30 we should even be able to get a table. Do you think that will work,” Justin asked, worried about leaving the distressed father on his own for a full day of kid related activities.

“I guess so. . . “ Brian didn’t sound very sure of himself, but finally gave up fighting the inevitable with an audible sigh. “Thanks, Sunshine. You probably just saved my ass. Later!”

“Later!” Justin managed to reply before Brian hung up on him.

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

Justin pushed his way through the mob of people crowding the sidewalks and everywhere else around Rockefeller Center, trying to get through to the bar where he’d told Brian he’d meet him. It might have been a mistake telling Brian to brave this part of town on a Saturday night the weekend before Christmas. Justin had always battled a touch of agoraphobia and these hordes of people weren’t making him feel less uncomfortable. He hoped that Brian and Gus were already comfortably ensconced in the restaurant and not battling the masses like he was. But, only fifteen minutes later than he’d promised, Justin managed to make his way to the homey little bar and grill just around the corner from the plaza.

“Jus’n! Jus’n,” Gus screamed at him from the far side of the little pub, standing up on his booster seat to wave at his friend and almost toppling onto the table in his excitement, as soon as the blond fought his way inside.

Justin grinned and wove through the busy little grill till he came to the right table, whereupon Gus launched himself into the surprised youth’s arms without warning. “Jus’n, we went to the Zoo! It was sooooo cool! There was this huge polar bear and seals that did tricks and the penguins - but they smelled really bad - and there was baby tiger cubs - they were only ten weeks old the sign said - and Daddy got me some cotton candy, but it isn’t really made out of cotton, you know, and there were these birds. . ." and Gus proceeded to explain in detail every single exhibit he’d seen at the zoo along with everything he’d eaten while there in one breath before Justin even managed to sit down.

Brian leaned across the table and gave Justin a small kiss in greeting and quickly whispered, “I’ll get you back for making me go to the zoo by myself, Sunshine.”

By the time the waiter arrived to take Justin’s food order - Brian had already ordered him a beer, which was greatly appreciated - Gus had moved on to describe the rest of the afternoon in Central Park. “We saw this big lake with birds on it and Daddy let me feed them bread that we got from this old man sitting on a big green bench. Then we had to look at lots of stupid flowers. Then, Daddy let me ride on the Carousel THREE TIMES. I sat on the big black horse the first time, then on the ostric’, and then on the tiger. It didn’t go very fast but it had happy music. Daddy rode with me all three times only he would only sit on the white horse every time. And then we walked and walked and walked and then we got here and there were so many people but Daddy is tall so he put me on his shoulders and I could see over the top of everybody and I helped find the restaurant. And then you came. . ."

“Wow. That sounds like a pretty amazing afternoon, Gus,” Justin exclaimed, winking at Brian as he said the words. “How did you manage to do all that in just one day?”

“How indeed,” Brian replied dryly, winking back at the blond. “At least I won’t need to visit the gym for the next couple days, considering how much exercise I’ve had trying to keep up with my two ‘boys’ the past couple of days.”

Justin tried to hide his ensuing blush behind the large pub menu. Brian lightly kicked him under the table enough to get him to look up and see the older man smiling mischievously at him. Gus was obliviously slurping at a soda. Justin was still so unsure about whatever this thing was between him and Brian and he was suffering repeated stabs of embarrassment over his behavior last night. Brian seemed to be almost gloating which didn’t make Justin feel any better about himself. ‘Seriously’, Justin thought, ‘I need to get myself under control and stop hopping into Brian’s bed at every random opportunity’.  

This internal diatribe might have gone on even longer but, to Justin’s relief, that was when their waiter approached the table with heaping plates of hot food for all. The waiter was a nice looking young man of latino heritage with big dark eyes and plump full lips who was clearly more than interested in Brian. He smiled obsequiously and simpered every time Brian thanked him for every little thing. Finally, when the waiter couldn’t come up with anything more he could do to prolong his time at the table, he asked sulkily, “Just let me know if there’s ANYTHING else I can do for you. . . “

Brian eyed the waiter’s name tag and then pointed over his shoulder to the chalkboard listing the day’s specials. “Well, there is one thing, Nathan. You have some highly interesting specials listed up there. But, I have to ask, Nathan, how DO you make a ‘Slippery Cockshake’?” Justin looked up at the board and, sure enough, written in bright neon green chalk, there was a new drink listed called the ‘Slippery Cock Shake’.

Justin giggled like a schoolgirl at the barely concealed innuendo. The waiter wasn’t fazed a bit, though. He chuckled seductively and smiled down at the handsome brunet. “Oh, there’s lots of ways, Honey. But here, all we have to do is add a little banana liquor and then talk dirty to it for about half a minute,” the cheeky waiter ran his index finger down Brian’s arm with a lascivious leer as he explained.

Even Brian giggled a bit at that. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind for the next time I cum here, Nathan,” Brian replied, returning leer for leer and upping the ante with a solicitous wag of his sexy eyebrows.

“Anything to be of service, Sir,” Nathan responded with a wink then turned around and strutted off with his hips swinging in an over-exaggerated fashion that Justin found simply too gay even for him.

“Daddy,” Gus cut in, dragging his father’s attention off the wiggling ass and back to the table. “What’s ‘talk dirty’? Is it like when you say those words that make Momma angry? And, why did that man say he was going to do it to a milkshake? I don’t want anything dirty in my shake or my soda. . .?”

Both Gus and Justin looked up at Brian expectantly waiting to hear his response. Brian was only stumped for about half a minute. Then, Brian shook his head, took a deep breath and set off to try to explain things to his inquisitive three year old son.

“Yes, Gus, dirty talk is like when I say bad words that make your Momma angry with me. The waiter was only joking about talking dirty to the milkshake, though, he wouldn’t really put anything dirty in your drink,” Brian hoped that was enough to satisfy the kid’s curiosity.

“Is ‘Yee Haw’ dirty talk?” Gus asked, completely innocently, his inquisitive mood far from satiated by such a simple answer. “I heard you and Jus’n playing cowboys last night and you both kept saying ‘Yee Haw’. Then there was a lot of banging against the wall so I couldn’t get to sleep for a long time. Were you playing ‘Cowboys & Indians’ or just ‘Cowboys’? I don’t think it’s as fun if you don’t have ‘Indians’. If you want to play again tonight, I could be the ‘Indian’. Timmy and I play that sometimes.”

Brian didn’t know quite where to start in on this batch of questions. Justin wouldn’t be any help - he was sitting across the table, his face redder than a beet, with his hand clasped over his mouth trying to stifle his laughter. The ‘Yee Haw’s had mostly been Justin’s fault, and Brian was just a tad annoyed that he was getting put on the spot for it while the blond just sat there chortling. But, he had to at least try to act like a responsible parent - even if it was more than a little bit outside his realm of experience - so Brian cleared his throat and started in explaining about how they didn’t really need Gus to help them play ‘Cowboys’ cause it was a big boys game. That led to questions about what constituted ‘Big Boy Games’ and how old Gus had to be to play. . .  It was a very uncomfortable meal for Brian Kinney.

The game of twenty questions lasted for the entire meal. Brian was more than glad when there was no more food left so he could hustle the giggling blond and the nosy tot out of the restaurant. It didn’t seem like there was any other way he could have stopped the very delicate conversation.

Some of the crowds seemed to have dispersed while they were eating, which was good since Justin was able to relax as he led them around the corner to the big ice skating rink set up in Rockefeller Plaza. He hadn’t told Brian about this part of his plan yet and he wasn’t sure how it would go over. But, this WAS the quintessential Christmas outing that every New Yorker was apparently required to participate in at least once in a lifetime. Justin hadn’t actually skated here before, but he was eager to initiate the little boy who seemed fascinated by the big tree, the bright lights, the swarms of colorfully dressed people and the skaters swirling around on the ice below them. He was also curious to see how Brian Kinney did on ice skates.

“What the fu . . . ?” Brian exclaimed as soon as he determined exactly where Justin was trying to lead their little party. “Sunshine, if you think there’s any way in Hell you’re getting me in ice skates, you are delusional.”

“Come on, Brian. It’s all part and parcel of the Christmas in New York thing,” Justin wasn’t above begging for this one. “It’s for Gus . . .”

Gus was standing on his tip toes with his hands gripping the top of the railing overlooking the rink. He seemed mesmerized by the view. His little hazel eyes - the same shape as those of his father but with just a touch more brown - were literally twinkling from the myriad of Christmas lights everywhere. The people down on the ice all looked happy and jolly. You could hear peals of laughter everywhere. Even the few who were falling on their asses or holding onto the sides of the rink seemed to somehow be enjoying themselves. Gus was obviously enthralled by the spectacle.

Justin watched as Brian looked down at his son. Justin saw the devoted father’s heart melt almost instantly. This was NOT what Brian Kinney wanted to do - far from it - but it was clear that Brian would do anything for his son. Even if it meant he was going to have to look like a fool, falling on his ass repeatedly while wearing rental ice skates. The big man turned to Justin with a defeated look in his eyes, and sighed heavily as his shoulders visibly slumped.

“Damn you, Sunshine,” was all Brian said as he reached for Gus’ small hand and started walking towards the rink entrance.

By the third time Brian landed on his ass, he was beginning to rethink how wise it was to agree to this particular pastime. He didn’t think spinning around on his frozen butt cheeks was the image he wanted to give off. Gus, being much closer to the ground than Brian was, didn’t seem nearly as fazed the few times he had fallen. But, somehow, the little tyke had seemed to master the whole skating thing much more quickly than Brian. After only twenty minutes the little dynamo was zooming around the rink trying to catch Justin, who zipped around backwards, forwards and everyotherwards like a damned Olympic Figure Skater, while Brian had only made it around the rink about three times. This was definitely not his idea of fun!  

The next time Brian toppled over - this time doing a very ungraceful faceplant that jarred his shoulder - a middle-aged, motherly type sped over to his aid and had to help him back into an upright position again. That was pretty much the final straw as far as Brian was concerned. His ass hurt like hell, his shoulder was probably dislocated and now his pride was in tatters too. That was more than enough ‘fun’ for him for one night. Holding on tightly to the railing around the rink, Brian limped his way off towards the exit. Justin saw him tottering off and dropping exhaustedly onto a bench and, with a quick glance to make sure Gus was alright alone for a bit, the agile little blond skated over to make sure Brian was okay.

“I’m fucking done for tonight, Justin,” Brian complained as soon as Justin was close enough. “My ass is going to be black and blue for weeks. That is not a good look on me, by the way.”

“Poor baby!” Justin sympathized as he adroitly teetered with his skates on over the rubber matting between the ice and the bench where Brian was already unlacing the abhorrent footwear. “You really were quite the trooper though. Gus is having a great time.”

“I don’t care how much fun Gus is having,” Brian said, but his griping lacked any real venom. “You two have fun twirling around out there, I’ll keep this bench warm until you’re through.”

Brian would have added a few more choice words that better conveyed his utter scorn for the sport of ice skating, except that there were kids everywhere and he had already spent too much time explaining ‘dirty talk’ for one evening. He squirmed a bit on the bench, trying not to put too much pressure on the cheek he had landed on the second time he fell, which was really throbbing uncomfortably at this point. He wasn’t looking forward to the bruises he’d have come morning. Brian could think of much better ways to get a sore ass than by falling on it repeatedly while hordes of little kids laughed at him. Ice skating was permanently off his list of activities.

“You’re a great dad, Brian,” Justin whispered as he got back up, discretely rubbing Brian’s sore ass cheek and leaving a light kiss on his other cheek as he rebalanced on the blades of the skates. “If you’re good, I’ll kiss it all better for you when we get home.”

Justin ran on tip toes back over the rubber mats and landed perfectly on the ice, doing some ridiculously intricate whirly thing as he waved towards Brian and then glided off effortlessly towards where Gus was tottering along. The little caress and the kiss had gone a long ways towards restoring Brian’s good mood in spite of the debacle of the skating. He waved back and even smiled a little. Then, after disposing of the hated skates, Brian spent the rest of the time taking pictures with his cell phone as Justin taught Gus how to pirouette around like a pro.

Chapter 19 - Trimming Trees.

On Sunday morning, Brian made sure to wake up early enough to ensure that Gus wouldn’t be tempted by the cat’s ‘cereal’ again. He set the alarm for seven. It wasn’t easy to force himself out of his nice cozy bed, where the snugly blond skater boy was still snoozing away after spending long hours, deep into the night, making it up to Brian for his sojourn to Central Park, the Zoo, the Carousel and then, to top off the list of indignities, the Ice Skating. Justin had been true to his word though and Brian admired how insistent he’d been to ‘kiss it all better’. It had definitely mollified Brian’s sore sense of pride even if he would still have the bruises.

But, even after Lindsay had reassured him that eating cat food wasn’t going to hurt Gus, Brian was still repulsed by the idea. He didn’t want to risk Gus getting up before him and sharing breakfast with the cat. He much preferred having his son go with him on an expedition to find bagels. Apparently Brian had done an excellent job of wearing out the lad the day before, though, since Gus was still wrapped up in Justin’s bed with Winston the Cat curled comfortably in the crook of the boy’s arm when Brian switched on the overhead light. Too bad! If Brian was going to have to get up, so was Gus! He gently shook the boy awake and then trundled him out of the apartment on a quest for breakfast fixings.

By the time they got back, Justin was out of bed and almost awake. He was sitting on the couch, dressed in sweats and sipping at an extra-large mug of coffee. Winston was perched on his lap, purring away and serving his primary function of being a lap warmer. Justin perked right up though when the Kinney men came in bearing bagels and all the fixings and jumped off the couch to help get things ready, to Winston’s vocal complaint at being upended. Happily for all, Gus took over the Winston cuddling while Brian and Justin set out food.

“So, Brian. What’s on your ‘fun-genda’ for today?” Justin asked when they were all munching away on well-cream-cheesed bagels. “I’m sure I can suggest a bunch more fun activities for you two,” he threatened with an evil little smile.

“I think we’ve had more than enough of your suggestions, Sunshine,” Brian wanted to nip that in the bud before the blond got Gus’ hopes set on another impossible and daunting outing.

Unfortunately, Brian wasn't quick enough with an alternative idea, and that left a nice big opening for Gus to speak up and offer his own proposal.

“Daddy, Gramma Debbie said that she would have a big Christmas Tree at her house. She said it wasn’t Christmas without a tree. Momma said that we didn’t need a tree at our house since we were going to stay at Gramma’s on Christmas night, but I think you need one. Can we do that today? Get your tree? I could help put on the dec’rations? Can we, Daddy? Can we?” the little voice implored piteously.

“I happen to know there’s a great little Christmas Tree farm in Greenwich, Connecticut, where you can cut down your own trees. It’s not far. If we leave right away, we can get there and I can help you pick out a tree and still make it back for work this afternoon,” Justin offered, almost as full of boundless excitement as the preschooler at the idea - he only stopped gushing about the idea when he heard Brian groaning from the chair next to him.

“Yay! Tree! Tree!” Gus was chanting and dancing around the apartment, shaking his little fists in the air with glee, already dead set on the plan.

“Thanks a-fucking-lot, Sunshine!” Brian bemoaned his fate but couldn’t bear to disappoint the bouncing, cheering little boy.

“Sorry . . .” Justin offered an apathetic apology while all the time grinning away at Brian’s unswerving devotion to give his son practically anything the boy wanted.

“Okay, Sonnyboy. If you want to get a tree, then hurry and go get dressed. And you, Sunshine, are not abandoning me with this little idea of your’s so you go get dressed too.”

Two hours later, Brian found himself trudging through half-frozen mud ruts in the middle of some desolate nowhere, while Justin and Gus ran about like demented Christmas elves intent on finding the ‘Perfect’ Christmas tree. Brian thought it was lucky that he had decided to keep his Jeep and simply put it in storage when he wasn’t using it - not only were they going to need it to get the fucking tree back to the apartment, but he was glad to have the four-wheel drive seeing as he had to park in the middle of a field. His Prada boots were getting ruined and he was cold and unhappy about this little adventure, but he couldn’t deny that Justin and Gus seemed delighted with the whole production. Brian just tried to grin and bear it, determined to do whatever it took to make his only son happy, even if that meant trudging through mud to saw down a stupid tree in the freezing cold far too early on a Sunday morning.

The tree lot owner came along after a few more minutes and, once Justin and Gus had decided on the tree they wanted, pushed a button that caused his chainsaw to roar to life. He efficiently severed the tree from its roots, and then obligingly dragged it back to the area where all the cars were parked. He then grabbed a huge pair of loppers and snipped off a couple of the lower branches, took Brian’s $120 bucks and was off back to the field to help the next bunch of suckers.

“Now what the hell do we do with it, Sunshine,” Brian couldn’t help but whine a little, at a complete loss for how the seemingly enormous tree was going to fit in the car.

Justin chuckled as he watched Brian, who was clearly trying to mentally shove the tree inside the smallish vehicle. Justin opened the passenger side door and retrieved his bag, into which he had stuffed several bungie cords that he sometimes used when he had to transport large canvases around for the gallery. He might never have made it past Webelos when his father had forced him to try scouting, but Justin prided himself on always being prepared, nonetheless.

“Simple. We hoist the tree onto the roof of the car and then strap it on with these,” Justin explained succinctly.

Of course, in the end, it wasn’t nearly that simple. With Gus running about underfoot trying to ‘help’, Brian and Justin together did manage to get the tree up onto the top of the Jeep. But Brian got hit in the face with the end of a bungie cord and then got his finger pinched in the rope and was thoroughly pissed off about the entire procedure before they managed to secure the damn thing into place. Brian only barely managed to hold back a string of curses that would have put Jack Kinney’s usual Christmas tirade to shame - only his stubborn refusal to subject Gus to a ‘traditional’ Kinney Christmas preventing him from displaying his bad mood.

Luckily Gus didn’t seem to even notice that his father was barely keeping it together. He was so caught up in the Christmas spirit he was literally bouncing in place with excess energy. Justin noticed that Brian wasn’t really in the best of moods, but he respected the man’s restraint and determination not to ruin this moment for the little boy. Justin was impressed by how dedicated Brian was as a father and, remembering a few of his own father’s holiday outbursts, wished that every dad had that much self-control. He quietly slipped his gloved hand into Brian’s and gave a little supportive squeeze along with a Sunshine smile, which seemed to pacify Brian a bit.

“You’re doing great, big guy,” Justin reassured him in a hushed voice. “Gus is going to remember this Christmas for a long time. You’re making some wonderful memories for him.”

Brian looked surprised by what Justin said - it was so incredibly perceptive. “Thanks. That’s what I wanted for him. I . . . I don’t have many of those . . . good memories, I mean,” Brian confessed, the words torn out of him almost against his will it seemed.

“Well, you’re doing an excellent job today, Mr. Kinney,” Justin reassured the tense man. “Now, we just have to get this gorgeous tree home and decorated.”

Brian groaned again at the idea that there was still more Christmas stuff he had to get through. He was really surprised at himself by how well he’d been doing so far. But the thought that there was even more that he’d have to put up with was daunting. One look at Gus’ beaming little face though quelled any objections he might have voiced.

*phhhffffttt* Brian huffed but squared his shoulders and prepared himself mentally to take on the rest of the Christmas experience. “Okay, Sunshine. I give up. Just tell me what I need to do next. You are the expert here. But, be gentle, I’m new at this shit.”

“Don’t worry, Brian. This is the toughest part. Once you’ve got the tree, it’s easy. I’ll walk you through it. All you have to do is pick up some lights and a tree stand at the store while I’m working. I’ll take over after that,” Justin explained.  

“You still have to work . . . Sunshine . . . ?" Brian was ready to bolt at the thought that he was about to be abandoned with Gus and an undecorated Christmas tree for several hours.

“You’ll be fine,” Justin promised. “After all this fresh air, then shopping and lunch, Gus should go down for an afternoon nap easily. If you’re lucky, he’ll sleep almost the whole time and then I’ll be there to save you before it gets too bad.”

“You better be . . .” Brian grumbled but Justin could see that he was already reconciled. “Time to head home, Gus,” Brian waved his son back to the car. “We have to get Justin to work and then we have some shopping to do, Sonnyboy. Who knew Christmas was such hard fucking work?”

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

Justin was loaded down with bags of supplies when he finally made it back to the apartment that evening. He’d finished up at the gallery, stopped at the market and then rushed off to Impressions Art Supply and put his employee discount to good use getting everything he and Gus would need to decorate for the holidays. Justin was raring to get started - he hadn’t done anything for Christmas the past couple of years and, since things with his parents were so strained, he hadn’t ventured home either. This would be the first time in awhile Justin would get to really celebrate one of his favorite holidays and he was thrilled.

Inside the apartment, all the lights were off and at first Justin thought nobody was there. He was about to switch on the overhead lights when he heard a soft snoring coming from the vicinity of the couch. He toed off his shoes and tried to close the door quietly even though his arms were full and then walked softly into the main room. In the dim light that seeped inside from the big outdoor windows, Justin could make out two dark heads curled up together in exhaustion on the couch. Putting all his packages down on the dinner table, Justin managed to sneak over, pull out his cell phone and quickly sneak a photo of the group on the couch. Unfortunately, the flash on his camera startled the couch’s other occupant - a furry grey little bugger with claws - the frightened cat woke up the bigger of the two sleeping angels in his frenzied escape.

“Oww! Goddamned little fuzzball! Someday, you little bastard, I’m going to wring your furry little neck . . . Hey, Sunshine,” Brian’s venomous grumbles turned into a guiltily whispered greeting when he finally noticed that Justin was home. He slowly unfolded himself from around Gus’ still napping body and got up. “You were right about the ‘wearing him out thing’. I’m afraid that I wore me out too, though.”

“You better not get on Winston’s bad side, Brian. I’m warning you. He might look small and unthreatening, but you really don’t want to alienate him.” Justin tried to caution the now semi-contrite man, but Brian just shrugged.

Brian woke up the littlest elf and then the three men had a quick bite to eat before they started in on the bulk of the holiday decorating. Brian and Justin got the tree set up in its stand with Gus supervising. Then the adults wrapped the multi-colored strands of twinkling lights around all the branches and plugged them in. Gus stood and clapped and jumped around, thoroughly pleased with his creation. Brian was smiling indulgently down at his son, and looking very pleased with himself at the same time. Justin thought they were both simply adorable.  

As soon as the tree was standing and the lights were up, though, both Brian and Gus seemed at a loss as to what to do next. Justin knew he would have to take charge. Unloading the craft supplies onto the dining table, Justin ushered the other two over and got them started making paper chains using red, green and white construction paper. Brian scoffed at first, but when Gus seemed more than excited by the idea, Daddy Brian set in with good grace and started gluing strips of paper into rings with the paste. Justin had even managed to pick up some paper that had interesting Christmasy designs on them and Brian seemed to find those especially intriguing. When both the Kinney boys seemed engrossed in their little project, Justin left them to start in on his portion of the preparations in the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes later, Justin came back out and found that the Kinneys had made significant progress with their paper chains. There were already piles of paper chains heaped on the table and dribbling off onto the floor. Gus was intent on working quickly and making the longest chains possible. Brian, on the other hand, was indulging his creative perfectionist tendencies and trying to make the ‘perfect’ chain using just the right combinations of papers with the most coordinated color schemes. It looked like Gus was outperforming his dad in the production department by a ratio of at least ten percent. But Brian was so absorbed in his work that he didn’t seem to notice that he was falling behind.

Justin hesitated to disturb the industrious pair. However Gus, having the normal attention span of any three-year-old, was more than ready to move on to the next project. As soon as Justin had paid his paper chain work sufficient praise, he was ready for the next task. They left Brian sorting through the construction paper looking for the best design to use next in his chain.

In the kitchen, Justin had mixed up a special batch of gingerbread that was sturdier than the typical cut-out cookies. He rolled out the dough on the kitchen counter, pulled up a chair so Gus could stand on it and still reach the countertops, and then took out a stack of cookie cutters he’d picked up at the store. Gus already knew how these worked and laid into the dough with the various shaped cutters with utter abandon. Justin had a tough time keeping enough dough rolled out for him. Justin transported the cut out cookies from the counter to a cookie sheet and, using a straw, he cut out a little round hole in the top of each figure. They had gingerbread girls and boys, Santas, reindeer faces, angels, round ornament shapes and some bells. When they ran out of dough, Justin put all the cookies in the oven and shooed Gus off back to make some more paper chains while he prepared the next part of the plan.

Using an old air popper that, thankfully, Brian hadn’t thrown out in his cleaning rampage through the kitchen, Justin popped up an enormous amount of popcorn, collecting it in one big bowl and almost every small bowl they had. Then, using a mixture of sugar, water and corn syrup, with a touch of red food coloring added, Justin mixed all the popcorn until it was a gooey, sticky mess. While it was cooling, Justin hurried out to the dining room table with a roll of waxed paper and a can of spray-on cooking oil. Brian was a tad annoyed to be interrupted in the midst of his paper chain masterpiece, but Gus convinced him to set the project aside for a moment.

They quickly cleared off the table and covered it with wax paper. Then, Justin sprayed Gus and Brian’s hands with the cooking oil until they were nice and slippery. Finally, he brought out the bowls full of cooler but still sticky red popcorn and ordered the slicked up duo to start forming the mixture into balls about the size of a tennis ball. As soon as each ball was formed, and before it got too cool, Justin would stick a little miniature candy cane into it to form a hanger.

While the popcorn ornaments were setting up, Justin and Gus started hanging the finished paper chains on the tree. Brian went back to his obsession with his paper chain creation masterpiece. The timer went off in the kitchen and Justin skipped off to take care of the cookies. By the time he got back to the living room, Justin could see Gus yawning and his eyes drooping. It looked like the kid had been subjected to too much Christmas fun for one day. Brian gave Justin a distracted nod when asked if it was okay for him to help Gus get ready for bed. Gus was too tired even for a bath, so Justin simply helped him into jammies, watched while he brushed his teeth and then tucked the little boy into bed - no fuss or bother, this night.

Justin came out of the bedroom to find Brian STILL bent over the paper ring project. He thought it was a little strange that Brian seemed so caught up in this little pre-school level project. He sat at the table next to the serious brunet and watched for a long time before he commented.

“You’re quite the pro at this, Brian. You must have racked up a lot of experience over the years. I bet your house had the best Christmas decorations on the block every year,” Justin commented finally, mostly to just break the rather intense silence.

“No,” was Brian’s terse answer.

“No . . . what?" Justin was confused.

“No, I don’t have any experience doing this shit and . . . No, my house never had any decorations,” Brian professed quietly, not really looking up at Justin while he spoke.

“You never made paper chains?” Justin couldn’t stop himself from asking, although he regretted the words as soon as he saw their import hit Brian.

Brian didn’t respond at first. He looked down at his hands, which were currently holding together the two ends of one paper ring while the glue set. All of the sudden it was like the excitement and joy he’d been feeling up to this point just evaporated away. Brian shoved the remains of the paper chain away from him, pushed his chair away from the table abruptly and got up. Justin was left sitting alone at the table, not really sure what he’d done to kill the comfortable, happy mood, only knowing that it had disappeared.

“I need a beer. You want one,” Brian asked as he thumped off towards the kitchen, his uncaring asshole mask firmly back in place.

“Sure,” Justin replied uncertainly, picking up the elegant paper chain and carefully draping it over a bare span on the very front of the Christmas tree.

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

Chapter 20 - Christmas Magic.

Brian was rushing to get home. Of course, the one time when he really, desperately needed a cab, there were none anywhere in sight. This was Madison-fucking-Avenue, New York City, how was it possible that there were no taxis around at five pm on a weekday? It was more than aggravating.

Brian was too anxious to just stand around waiting, though. He started walking in a generally northerly direction and figured he'd find a cab sooner or later. If not, he'd walk all the way to fucking SoHo. It didn't matter - at that moment he just wanted to get home.

‘Home’.

Brian surprised himself by using that word even in his own private thoughts. It was sort of an alien concept for him. Brian had never felt like he’d had a true home as a child. The Kinney family wasn’t exactly the homey type. Brian had spent most of his time in that household trying to figure out ways to escape that place. And, while he’d sometimes been invited into other families’ homes, they were never Brian’s home. Even the loft in Pittsburgh where Brian had lived most of his adult life - his very own space, his haven from the world - hadn’t really been a ‘home’. He’d always thought of it as ‘The Loft’, not his ‘Home’.

But now, it seemed that his mind had already labelled the shabby, small little SoHo apartment here in New York City as ‘home’? What the fuck was up with that? It wasn’t anyplace special. When he’d arrived he really hadn’t planned to stay in the tiny little hole for long. So, why was he already thinking of that place as his home? When he conjured up images of the tiny little apartment, though, it wasn’t the place itself he saw in his mind’s eye - he saw faces of people - mostly Justin, but also that spunky little Daphne and now Gus, too. In the very, very short time he’d been living in this place, he’d already racked up more fun memories than in all the years he’d resided at the Loft. That thought surprised him all over again.

Included in those memories were now images from the past couple of nights spent with Justin in his bed. Brian wasn’t sure why these past couple of nights should have been at all different from the thousands of other nights he’d spent with various men. Of course, he rarely spent a whole night with anyone - so maybe that was why this thing with Justin seemed so different. But, Brian was sure there was more to it than just that they’d slept entire nights together in the same bed.

Actually, everything with Justin was somehow different, starting from the very first time they’d had sex. Those first couplings had been amazing. Brian rarely let another man take control the way he’d let Justin. He could hardly believe that he'd let the kid ride him the first time they'd been together. That was really unusual for Brian, the Stud of Liberty Avenue, the quintessential top, the one who always had to be in control. But, the boy had seemed so confident, so intense and sure of himself, that Brian had been thrown off. He'd let Justin lead those first couple of fucks and just held on for dear life.

That all changed Saturday night. After Brian had finally talked Gus and Justin out of the ice skating rink, they'd made their way back to the little apartment with Gus falling asleep in the taxi on the way. The two men had put the boy into Justin's bed without any discussion at all - It seemed natural. And before either of them had a moment to rethink things, Brian and Justin had fallen into each other's arms.

After those first couple of rough and ready encounters, Brian had expected to find himself fighting off an aggressive blond again. But that wasn't the case at all. This time Justin had seemed to almost melt at Brian's first kiss. The youth was like putty in Brian's strong hands. That frisky, wanton cowboy from the night before had been replaced by a complaisant, accommodating, considerate admirer who willingly and wholeheartedly gave himself up to Brian's ministrations. Brian had enjoyed the lustly little cowboy but was completely won over by this more demur lover. As a result, Brian had exceeded his own expectations, masterfully fucking the boy into oblivion several times.

Then things had somehow changed again. Last night had been even more astonishing than Saturday night. The three of them had spent pretty much the whole day together doing ridiculously sentimental, Christmas-oriented things, none of which Brian had ever even tried before. It was all just so out of character for the quiet loner. Brian Kinney, a family man? Cutting down and decorating a Christmas tree? It was so far outside the man’s usual comfort zone that he didn't even have a frame of reference with which to guide himself.

As a result, Brian had been feeling more than a little raw. When he had inadvertently blurted out to Justin that he’d never done something as inane as making homemade Christmas decorations that were obviously geared towards a pre-schooler’s skill set, it had unnerved Brian more than he had ever thought possible. He’d tried to retreat after that. He’d tried to pull back into his shell. But, for some inexplicable reason, Justin hadn’t let him.

The overly enthusiastic blond boy of prior nights had come at him again, but this time he was aggressively tender and caring. There was still a passionateness that took Brian’s breath away, but there was more. Every one of Justin’s touches seemed so soft and attentive. Brian felt cared for in a way he didn’t even know was possible. It scared him too, but Justin was so solicitous and generous that Brian didn’t feel the need to pull away or hide. At least not until he woke up the next morning and was suddenly overcome with a vague embarrassment over how he’d acted. Justin affected not to notice, though, and busied himself with getting breakfast for Gus, which allowed Brian to pull together the shards of his usual protective mask.

A few minutes later, when his assistant at Kennedy & Collins had called in a panic and insisted that Brian come in to take care of the latest crisis, Justin had seemed not only willing to take over Gus duty for the day, but to have anticipated this development. The crafty young blond told Brian that he had a whole day of activities ready to go that would entertain Gus and that he didn’t mind in the least if Brian had to work. Brian was hesitant - not because he didn’t trust Justin with his son - but because he already had so little time with the boy that he didn’t want to waste one single minute of HIS time, let alone a whole day. But, there really wasn’t anything else he could do, so Brian had kissed his son and his blond and left for the office about ten.

Which was why he was so desperate now, at five pm, to get back. The little crisis that he thought he could deal with in an hour or less had ballooned and taken the entire day to resolve. This was his last day with Gus, for who knew how long, and it had been ruined. Brian was in a rotten mood, he was tired and he was disappointed in himself. And he was uncharacteristically and sentimentally looking forward to going home to his boys.

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

“Daddy! Daddy! Come see! We did ‘crefs’!” Gus was waiting for Brian about two steps away from the door, jumping up and down and yelling as if his father was half a mile away. “We dec’rated the cookies and put them in the tree and Jus’n helped me make presents for you and Mommy and Momma and Gramma Debbie and then we hung up more chains. Come see!”

"Slow down, Sonnyboy," Brian found it impossible to maintain a bad mood in the face of such exuberance. "First of all, what's a 'cref'?"

"I think he means 'crafts'" Justin explained, coming out of the kitchen with a cookie sheet full of uniced sugar cookies. "Gus, bring your Dad over here and show him how we do up the cookies."

"C'mon, Daddy. I'll show you how to do cookies. I've done lots already. It's fun. Justin can make you any color icin' you want. Even orange!"

"Orange Christmas cookies, Sunshine?" Brian asked as he was dragged towards the table by an avid three-year-old.

"What can I say? Your son has a very artistic eye for color, Brian," Justin nodded approvingly at the many plates full of already decorated cookies sitting nearby. "And, the snowman's carrot nose did demand orange."

"See, Daddy!" Gus was rip-roaring-ready to show off his cookie work to his Daddy.

Brian sat and was entertained for quite a while as Gus, with occasional assistance from Justin, carefully explained the methodology behind the perfectly iced Christmas cookie. In the end there was more icing on Gus, the tablecloth, the floor and the chair than on the cookie. But, Gus seemed pleased with the results, so Brian consciously overlooked the mess and gave his son all the approbation the kid could handle. When the last cookie was fully decorated - Justin quietly decorating five cookies to every one that Gus managed - Justin took the child aside to wash him up while Brian was finally allowed to escape and change out of his suit.

As soon as he reemerged from the bedroom, Gus took Brian on a complete tour of the fabulously decorated abode. There were meters and meters of paper chains draped over every piece of furniture and taped to every wall. The gingerbread cookies from the night before had been decorated with white icing and hung on the tree with thin red ribbons laced through the little holes Justin had put in the tops of each one. The big, red popcorn balls were also on the tree, glowing under all the little multicolored twinkle lights. It was all incredibly festive.

“It’s the best Christmas Tree ever,” Gus declared with conviction as he surveyed the scene. “Daddy? What do you think? Did Jus’n and I do a good job? Is it the bestest tree you ever had?”

“It’s . . . It’s amazing, Sonnyboy . . ." Justin could see that Brian was choked up and having a hard time responding to the little boy, so he quickly jumped in and distracted the child by whispering something in the tiny little ear.

Gus immediately ran off down the hall towards Justin’s bedroom, grinning like an evil little elf.

“Brian?” Justin came up to the taller man and cautiously laid a consoling hand on Brian’s shoulder. “What is it?” the younger man asked in a hushed voice.

Brian took a deep breath and then blew it all out in a gust that took with it much of the unbridled emotion that seemed to have hit the man unawares. He shook his head, answering Justin’s question with ambiguity, just as Gus came barrelling back into the room with his arms full of several colorfully wrapped packages.

“Lookee, Daddy. I made presents for everyone!”

“Let’s put them all under the tree for now, Gus,” Justin took charge and grabbed the package on the top of the pile before it could fall.

“See, Daddy! This one’s for you. But you can’t open it till Christmas - Justin said - cause it has to be a s’prise! I’m gonna leave it here under the tree for you, but I’m taking all the others to 'Pissburg' with me.”

“That’s a lot of presents there, Gus,” Brian finally found his voice and praised the heap of presents. “Where did you get all those? You didn’t make Justin go broke buying all that stuff, did you?”

“No, Daddy! We didn’t buy these. I MADE them. Jus’n helped, though.”

“You made all that? How long was I gone, Sunshine?” Brian looked at the two grinning boys incredulously.

“We’ve been very, very busy,” Justin admitted. "But, I think we're done for now. Who's hungry?"

Gus chimed in immediately and demanded pizza. Justin seconded the motion. Brian caved in without too much argument and called in their order to a local delivery place. Before long the three guys were all lying together on the couch, too stuffed full of pizza to do anything or say much. They just sat there like lumps staring at the twinkling tree and admiring all the simple, handmade baubles and other ornaments.

It wasn't really the most elegant tree, but it certainly had more character than any other and the best part was how much fun it had afforded to Gus. Brian was simply amazed at how much effort Justin, this young man that he'd only known for a little more than a month, had put into the endeavor. It was such a sweet thing for him to do. It was truly wondrous. It was daunting. It made Brian feel . . . Brian wasn't sure exactly WHAT the fuck he felt about all this.

"Gus, I think your tree is beautiful," Brian confessed with more feeling than he wanted to show even after he'd had time to collect himself. "It's the most remarkable tree I've ever seen. You and Justin did a great job, Sonnyboy. How about we take a picture of you two in front of the tree so you can show your mommies?"

"Yeah!"

After the first picture of Gus and Justin, Gus demanded a second with his daddy. Then the child insisted that HE take another picture with Justin and Daddy together. That took a bit of doing. Brian explained to Gus how to use the camera app on his phone, but it took about ten tries before the little guy managed to take a picture that sort of got both men and the tree in the frame. There was a lot of laughing over the many mis-shots of feet, the ceiling, Brian's left nostril and Justin's crotch. Eventually, though, there was one, slightly tipped and blurry photo that Gus declared was good, allowing Brian and Justin to quit posing.

Justin was still sitting on the couch admiring the tree when Brian got back a little later from putting Gus to bed. Brian grabbed a couple of beers from the kitchen on his way and then sat close to the younger man, instinctively wrapping his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders, neither saying much as they sipped at their drinks. Justin was quite proud of how well the day with Gus had gone. He’d always been good with little children and he enjoyed being able to foster the boy’s creativity while getting to play with cookies and crafts himself.  

“Thank you for doing all this with Gus,” Brian commented quietly as if reading Justin’s mind. “I was really bummed that I didn’t get to spend the day with him, but I can see that he had plenty of fun. And your tree really does look amazing.”

“Thanks, Brian. Gus is a great kid. He has so much enthusiasm about everything. It wasn’t hard to keep him busy - it was just hard to keep up with him sometimes,” Justin chuckled, leaning his head even more against Brian’s sturdy shoulder. “It really is a great tree, though, isn’t it?”

“I remember when I was growing up, my mother always had to have the tree be all coordinated and she’d go out and buy matching decorations - like one year the tree was all done in gold and another year it was all in blue and green. Our tree was very suburban chic. Dad would even coordinate the outdoor Christmas lights to match. We had to keep up with the trendy neighbors, you understand? But, even then, my mother always managed to let Molly and I hang one or two special ornaments that we’d made ourselves - usually they were hidden in the back - just so we would know that we’d contributed to the tree. I think this kind of tree - with Gus making everything - is much more fun. So what if I fail at upholding all the lofty decorating ideals of my WASPy parents. I’ll take this tree over the one bought in a department store any day.”

Brian had been silently listening to Justin babbling. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the sparkling lights. When Justin looked up, Brian had a sad-looking smile on his face. There were those same twinges of emotion trying to break out that Justin had seen earlier in the evening when Gus had asked for Brian’s opinion about the tree. For some reason, this happy homespun tree seemed to knock Brian for a loop. Justin twisted his body around, lifting his legs to drape them over Brian’s lap and studied the stoic countenance with concern. He set his beer aside and brought the hand still cool from the beer bottle up to cup along the strong, slightly-stubbled, chiseled chin, tilting Brian’s face towards his own.

“Brian?”

“It’s nothing,” Brian tried to turn his face away from the evident concern that radiated off of Justin, but those firm artist’s fingers didn’t let go. “I just . . . I want to thank you for doing this for my son, Justin. It’s beyond . . . anything I could have even thought of . . . I . . . I don’t know much about Christmas or Santa, or trees, or crafts, or cookies, or . . . fuck . . . even about being a father, for that matter. I think - I hope - that this is one Christmas that Gus won’t ever forget and I’m really glad he’ll have this one great memory . . . and that I’ll . . .  I’ll be a part of it . . ."

Brian’s voice had lost volume as he spoke to the point that Justin almost couldn’t make out the last few words. But, just as he was sure that Brian was through and there wouldn’t be any more of this heartfelt confession, Brian whispered one last thing that wounded Justin’s heart.

“I don’t have that,” Brian admitted without fanfare, animosity or even overt regret.

It was simply a statement of fact. One little statement that explained a lot as far as Justin was concerned. No wonder Brian had seemed so out of his element doing something as commonplace as taking his kid to visit Santa or making paper chain decorations. Justin was thrilled that he had been able to give all this - not only to Gus, but to Gus’ father - and it made that silly little tree with its pre-school art decorations all the more beautiful in his eyes.

“Now you do,” Justin assured the big guy with a bittersweet smile. “You and Gus have at least one fantastic Christmas memory that you share.”

‘Yeah . . . we do,” Brian agreed and squeezed Justin’s shoulders with genuine unassumed affection. “Thanks, Sunshine,” Brian whispered and added a light kiss on Justin’s temple, trying to convey all the words that he couldn’t say with that one tender gesture.

“Now, if you’ll follow me,” Brian said, standing up and pulling Justin with him. “I think I can come up with several additional ways to show you my gratitude for helping with Gus all weekend.”

“Oh, really?” Justin wore a teasing smile, relieved that Brian’s mood had improved so quickly.

“Yes, indeed!” Brian asserted and then, before Justin could react, he bent over and hoisted Justin over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and started toting the now struggling and protesting youth towards the bedroom.

“Brian! Put me down!”

“Nope. You’ve been a very busy little elf and you need your rest so I’m taking you to bed,” Brian insisted.

“To rest?” Justin asked incredulously.

“Eventually . . . Now stop squirming,” Brian demanded and enforced his directive with a quick, sharp swat on the wiggling bubble butt.  

As they approached the doorway to Brian’s room, though, Justin remembered one last surprise that he and Gus had concocted and, with a renewed effort, he finally managed to worm his way out of Brian’s clutches enough so that Brian set him on his feet before the boy fell over. Then, leading Brian a step or two, he positioned them both so they were standing together centered under the header of the doorway. When he had Brian perfectly where he wanted him, Justin wrinkled up his nose with amusement and beamed his most radiant smile at the taller man while he pointed upward.

Brian had already noted that the meters and meters of Gus’ paper chains had stretched all the way down the short hallway and back. What he hadn’t noticed when he’d come this way before, was that Justin had added some additional decorations above the doors to each bedroom and the bathroom - there were sprigs of fake greenery and big bows taped up amidst the chains  - making every door even more ornamental than the general holiday state of the rest of the apartment. The grouping of decorations above Brian’s bedroom door was even more elaborate than the others, though. When Brian looked up to examine the display, he broke out laughing with a simple, easy, relaxed laughter that eased any lingering pain in Justin’s heart from their prior discussion.

“You are a naughty little elf, Sunshine,” Brian admonished as he surveyed the large sprig of bright green mistletoe that was hanging down over his head, suspended by a red ribbon which was tied to a nail that was holding up both the mistletoe and the trusty, holey, travelling sneakers, newly adorned with red ribbons where the tattered old laces used to be.

“You’re supposed to kiss me now,” Justin informed him with a provocative grin.

“I didn’t know there was any superstitions about meeting under a pair of holey, dirty shoes?” Brian kidded in mock-serious anger, his tongue-in-cheek smile giving away the underlying humor at the situation.  

“Of course there are! Especially if the shoes are accompanied by mistletoe. It would be bad luck not to kiss me when those two things come together right over your head,” Justin insisted, already standing up on tip-toes with his head tilted to the side and his chin angled up for the kiss he expected.

If Justin was expecting a polite little peck on the cheek, though, he didn’t get it. What he got instead was a searing, passionate, deep kiss with Brian’s secure arms holding him up as he was forced to bend over backwards by the intensity of Brian’s onslaught. Brian’s lips were instantly melded to Justin’s and he sucked voraciously on the sweetness of the youth’s pouty lower lip. Justin opened his mouth to gasp at the suddenness of the embrace, but that only gave Brian greater access to plunder the depths of the blond that he wanted so desperately.

After untold, breathless moments, Brian pulled back enough to look down at the beautiful man he was holding. Justin’s sumptuous lips were a fiery coral red after the vigorous kissing they’d been subjected to. The youth’s breathing was coming out in tiny panting wisps and his eyes were closed. Brian couldn’t believe how captivated he felt at the mere touch of that soft, unblemished skin. Then, when he felt Brian’s pause had gone on too long, Justin opened his eyes and Brian was inundated with the sparkling blue fire of those enchanting eyes and the piercing beauty of that wide Sunshine smile.

“Brian?”

“Come on you naughty little elf. I’ve got some jingle balls you might like to play with,” Brian teased as he pulled Justin up again and then pushed the man further into his room, kicking the door closed behind them.

Chapter 21 - Return of The Munchers.

Brian had been awake for more than an hour already. He didn’t want to get up. He’d been lying in bed, watching Justin sleep and trying to rein in his wild emotions. But, even after an hour, he hadn’t had much luck.

Last night had been another eye-opening experience. How had Justin taken him from melancholy to enraptured in such an incredibly short period of time? Brian didn’t even try to deceive himself that, while he was physically in charge of what had occurred, Justin had never really acceded emotional control of the situation. All night long, Brian was being cared for and his raw emotions salved by the patient and benevolent young blond. Brian really didn’t know how to react to any of this. He wasn’t used to having anyone take care of him. He was always self-sufficient. He didn’t need anyone. If anything, he was the one that took care of others - either financially or physically - even if he wasn’t equipped to take care of anyone on an emotional level.

So, how had this young man completely taken over his life in such a short amount of time? How did Justin manage to discern the deeply hidden, fiercely protected emotions that Brian had been keeping from others his whole life? How did this mere boy know exactly what Brian needed to calm him, patch up his sore spots and then knit back together the splintered ends of his emotional life?  And, most importantly of all, could Brian trust him? Or, was it already too late for Brian?

Brian might have lain there, wallowing in more of the same disheartening thoughts, if it hadn’t been for Gus who shoved open the bedroom door with so much energy that it crashed against the wall.

“Daddy!” the tyke chimed as he ran towards the bed and climbed up it as fast as his little legs could go.

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

Justin was woken up by the buzzer ringing from the front entrance. Well, it wasn't so much ringing as it was blaring, insistently and constantly, as if whoever was downstairs was leaning against the button and didn't plan to give up until the door was opened. He tried to just roll over and ignore it. He tried pulling first one and then two pillows over his head to dampen the sound. He even tried sticking his fingers in his ears but somehow that over loud buzzing noise still penetrated into his brain.

"Brian? Brian, get the fucking door already!" Justin yelled, lifting up a corner of his protective pillows, trying to keep as much pillow over his ears as he could while uncovering only his mouth.

When the buzzer kept buzzing and there was no other response from within the apartment, Justin groaned and rolled out from under the warm comforter. He pulled on the first pair of pants he tripped across, which happened to be a pair of Brian's jeans, which were too tight around his ass and way too long but they at least counted as clothing. Yawning and scratching at his unkempt hair, the not-yet-awake blond shuffled out to the living room and pushed the intercom button.

"Who the fuc . . ." Justin didn't even get a whole sentence out before he was interrupted.

"It's about fucking time! We're here for Gus. Open the fucking door already, asshole!" was shouted through the speaker by a loud, grating, clipped woman’s voice.

Justin was stunned into silence and obediently pushed the button that released the lock on the front door. He trudged off to the bathroom to piss while the offensive woman presumably made her way up to the sixth floor. Before he was done shaking, someone was already pounding fervently on the apartment door. Justin tucked himself into Brian’s jeans, zipping up as best as he could seeing as they didn’t really fit his much rounder tush, and gave up on trying to get the top button done. The hammering on the door continued unabated as he nervously made his way back to the door.

Justin braced himself mentally and then pulled open the door to find himself confronted by a dark-haired, slim thirty-ish woman who might have been fairly attractive if it weren’t for the choleric expression on her face and the cold dark eyes that were shooting daggers at him. Behind the angry brunette, there was a taller blonde woman who looked worried but not angry and who seemed to be trying to hold back the little spitfire attacking the door. Apparently, Justin was not the person these two expected to see behind the door, since both women’s expressions turned to confusion at the sight of the half dressed, messy, blond young man who yawned at them in greeting.

“Who the fuck are you?” said the smaller dark-haired woman as she unceremoniously pushed the door wide open and barged into the apartment. “Where’s Brian and my son? Lindz, this is the right apartment isn’t it?”

The blonde woman pulled a piece of paper out of her coat pocket and nodded. “This is the address Brian gave me. Apartment 6B. This should be the place.”

“So then, where the fuck is the asshole?” the angry woman demanded as she turned to glare at Justin with those intense, furious, dark eyes.

“I . . . I don’t know . . . I just . . . I just woke up . . .” Justin replied timidly, not sure at all where Brian was or what to do with these shouting, obnoxious women who’d burst into his home.

“Of course, you wouldn’t know anything. You’re just the latest offering in the Brian Kinney Trick-of-the-Month Club,” the furious woman dismissed Justin and turned back to her blonde companion. “I can’t believe this, Lindz. Brian’s bringing tricks home when he’s supposed to be watching Gus? I can’t fucking believe him. I knew this visit was a bad idea all along.”

“Mel, please,” the blonde woman tried to calm her fuming partner.

“No, I’m not going to let this slide, Lindsay,” the one named Mel shouted. “Brian is too fucking irresponsible to take care of Gus. He can’t even keep his dick in his pants for one lousy weekend while his son is staying with him? I don’t care what you say about Gus needing to get to know his father. Our son doesn’t need this kind of influence,” Mel gestured in disgust towards Justin as she bit out her words.

“Excuse me,” Justin tried to cut off the stream of vitriol that was only partially directed at him, but the two women kept talking to each other as if he was invisible.

“I don’t disagree with you, Mel. I just wanted Gus to get to spend some time with his father. You know how much he’s been missing Brian ever since he left Pittsburgh. But, I never thought Brian would trick with Gus around . . ."

“Why not? He IS Brian Fucking Kinney. He’s always been more interested in getting his dick sucked than anything else,” Mel insisted, stomping past Justin and flopping down on the sofa. “God, I wish I’d never agreed to let HIM be the sperm donor for our son. I can’t believe I actually thought we could trust him. He was supposed to just do his thing and then butt the hell out of our lives. What was the point of having him sign away his parental rights if you keep insisting that he remains a part of Gus' life. Are you happy now, Lindz?”

“Melanie, please. Let’s not rehash this again. It’s a little late now to change our minds about Brian fathering our son. I don’t want to have this argument again,” Lindsey moved around Justin as if he was just another piece of furniture and sat next to her partner.

“Well, I’m just glad that he WON’T be the father of our next child,” Melanie said in a slightly pacified tone. “But, I’m telling you now that I won’t go through this shit again. If Michael really does want this, he’s going to have to sign over all parental rights at the very start and we need to make it clear to him that he will NOT be pulling this kind of shit on us.”

“Mel, you know how I feel about this. I don’t think it’s healthy for a child not to have any contact with it’s father. I’ve shown you the studies about open adoptions and how children who have ongoing contact with their birth parents are generally more well adjusted and happier. The same applies to our situation . . .” Lindsey was trying to be informative and logical in the face of Mel’s apparently unthinking anger.

“What-the-fuck-ever! Regardless of what ‘the studies’ show, Lindz, I’m not putting up with this shit for MY child. I’m not saying that Michael can’t ever see the baby, but we’re going to be the parents and we will get to dictate when and where and how often. I’m not dealing with another Brian Kinney situation where some man thinks that just because he squirted some sperm in a cup, he has any say in how we raise our kids.” Mel had her arms crossed belligerently and a determined look on her pinched face. Then she raised her arm and pointed at Justin, who was still standing in the middle of the room looking confused and more indignant the more he listened to the two women. “I mean look at what this got us the first time. Our son is being exposed to Brian’s promiscuous lifestyle. We’re not making the same mistake with our next child.”

“Wait just a fucking minute,” Justin was through being talked about as if he wasn’t there and listening to these two berating Brian’s parenting skills. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, pushing your way into my home and then talking about me like I’m some kind of disease your son has been ‘exposed’ to. You don’t know a damn thing about me. And, from the way you’re talking, I don’t think you know a damn thing about Brian either. I don’t care if you are Gus’ mothers. You can’t talk like that about me or about Brian. Now, get the fuck out of our home!”

Justin had stomped over to the door as he was haranguing the two dumbfounded women who had almost forgotten he was still there. As he shouted out the last couple sentences, Justin pulled the door open and, with his free hand, pointed outside. At the very same time, the elevator doors slid open, revealing Brian and Gus looking startled at the vociferous welcome they were getting.

“Mommy! Momma!” the little boy cheered as soon as he saw the two ladies standing behind Justin.

Gus was a bit confused by what Justin had been shouting and he didn’t understand why his mothers were glaring at his friend, but the child was too excited at seeing his mothers to care. He ran past Justin and jumped into Lindsey’s arms with a huge grin on his charming little face. Brian followed his son inside, his hands full of a paperboard tray with hot drinks and large bag full of something breakfasty. The older Kinney man wasn’t grinning, though. He was livid.

“Lindsey. Mel,” Brian greeted the two women with barely contained fury. “You’re two hours early. You said I could have him until ten.”

“Brian, I . . . We missed Gus so much . . . We didn’t think you’d mind if we came by to take him to breakfast,” Lindsey started to explain in a snooty voice as she hugged Gus and then passed the little boy over to his other mother.

“Well, I DO mind,” Brian retorted with a scowl directed mainly at Melanie. “I see you’ve already endeared yourselves to my roommate, Justin Taylor?”

“Your . . .  what? Roommate?” Mel wasn’t at all sure that she’d heard that right.

“Yes, Mel. My Roommate.”

“Yeah, right. Since when do you have a fucking roommate, asshole?” Mel said with a completely disbelieving tone of voice.

“Since there was a mixup with my sublease - not that it’s any of your business - but, Justin and I are sharing the apartment for a few months until we get it sorted out. So, I suggest you apologize for whatever snarky and unfair comments you made to him and then get the hell out of here. I still have two hours with my son.”

“Like fuck I will, Kinney,” Mel put Gus down and moved to stand toe-to-toe with the much larger man and hissed at him. “Gus is MY son. You're nobody. If I say this visit is over now, then it’s fucking over.”

“Stop it! Both of you!” Justin interrupted the brewing fight. “This isn’t the time . . . Gus, buddy, how about we go start getting you packed up, huh?” Justin suggested, turning to the clearly upset little boy and holding out his hand with a big Sunshine smile to reassure the child. “I’ll help you find all your stuff while your Daddy and Mommies get breakfast set out for all of us. How does that sound?”

“Okay . . .” Gus didn’t seem very reassured as he looked back and forth at all his assembled parents, but he did follow Justin down the hallway towards the back bedroom, glancing back over his shoulder occasionally at the still-tense scene.

By the time Justin and Gus had gathered up most of his things and put them in the child-sized rolling suitcase that Gus had brought, the hubbub between the rest of the adults had died down. The three grown ups were seated around the table, drinking coffee in silence. Justin carried the small case out and sat it by the door while Gus brought over his small backpack. Justin reminded Gus not to forget the presents for his family that were waiting under the tree. The boy ran over and picked up all but two small packages and trotted over to Justin who helped stow them in his backpack with a couple of whispered comments. Then, Justin escorted the boy over to the table where the child climbed up into his father’s lap, ready and eager for breakfast.

Brian handed Justin one of the coffee’s he’d been schlepping back to the apartment - recently nuked so it was still warm - as the young man seated himself in the remaining chair.

“Justin,” Lindsey started as soon as he was seated. “I’m really sorry if Mel and I jumped to conclusions about you. We apologize if we said anything to offend you. Really, that wasn’t our intention . . . Brian has explained . . ."

“Thank you, Lindsey,” Justin reluctantly accepted the apology, noting that Melanie hadn’t offered any apology of her own and hadn’t even looked up at him during Lindsey’s little set speech.

“So, Brian tells us you’re an art student. I’m something of an artist myself, although I doubt I would have been accepted somewhere like SVA. That’s very impressive,” Lindsey said, trying to make conversation in spite of the tenseness that still hung over the group.

“Justin’s artwork is amazing,” Brian interjected with a proud smile directed over at the young artist. “I’m even using some of his work in one of my latest ad campaigns. The Director of the Art Department at Kennedy & Collins was so thrilled with Justin’s talent that she rushed over to the gallery where he works and bought two of his pieces the next day.”

“Wow! You have work on display at a New York gallery already and you’re only a student,” Lindsey sounded genuinely impressed. “I’d love to see some of your work.”

“Maybe another time,” Justin still wasn’t quite ready to be buddies with these women who had made such a horrible first impression on him. “I think you’d probably rather see your son’s work. Gus, after you’re done with your breakfast, you should show your moms all the decorations we made for our Christmas tree,” Justin suggested, then sat back as Gus gushed about all the ‘crefs’ he, Justin and Brian had made over the weekend, his new cat and all the adventures they’d gone on.

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

Actually getting Gus out of the apartment was much more difficult than anyone had expected. The little boy really did not want to leave his father or his new found friend, Jus’n. Even worse was the suggestion that Gus be separated from HIS cat, Winston. There was a complete temper tantrum including tears, inconsolable wailing and even a short time where the little tyke was lying on the floor kicking at anyone who came near. It was not Gus’ most attractive moment.

In the end, Mel lost her temper and simply picked the screaming and whining Gus up and carried him out of the apartment while Lindz followed behind with Gus’ bags. Brian stopped her just before she could get out the door and added a large FAO Schwarz shopping bag to her burdens. It was a very anti-climactic ending to the fun visit they’d had with Gus. The abrupt departure left both men feeling a bit lost. Brian didn’t even get to hug his son goodbye.

Brian felt like he should apologize to Justin, not only for the Gus meltdown but just generally for involving Justin in his crazy, melodramatic life. The words didn’t come easily, though, and Brian gave up without saying anything. Brian avoided further conversation by escaping to work for the rest of the day. Justin was glad for the respite since he had a lot of painting to do before tomorrow morning. While Brian retreated to his office, Justin immersed himself in his palette, living through the colors he could create and the images he could evoke.

Brian stayed at the office as long as he could on the 24th. He really wasn’t sure what to do with himself after all the work was done and everyone else had left. In the past he would have probably ended up at a club on Liberty Avenue for the evening along with all the rest of the losers who didn't have family commitments. But this year, he didn’t really know what he wanted to do. Brian already missed Gus. He didn’t have Debbie or Michael to fall back on anymore. Even more than before, there was nowhere that Brian felt he belonged this year.

When everyone else was gone and the short winter day was waning, Brian finally gave up and grabbed a cab back to the apartment. If nothing else, he had an almost new bottle of beam that he figured would keep him occupied until at least tomorrow afternoon. Then, he'd get up long enough to call Gus, wish his son a Happy Christmas and then go back to bed until it was socially acceptable to go back to the office on the 26th.

Brian's plans were ruined though as soon as he entered apartment 6B. As soon as he cracked open the door, Brian was assailed by the tinkling sounds of cheery Christmas music, accompanied by girlish and boyish laughter and an almost palpable sense of warmth and companionship. It was all new to Brian. He wasn't sure he should even open the door all the way. He'd never been big on fake 'Hallmark' holidays like Christmas, but since he didn't really have anywhere else to go, he squared his shoulders, pushed the door open and ventured inside.

"Brian!" was the doubly gleeful greeting he received as soon as the door opened wide enough so that both Daphne and Justin could identify him.

"Perfect timing, Brian," Daph noted and waved a very long pointed implement of destruction at the unsure newcomer. "We've just started the fondue. Grab a fondue fork and a piece of carpet and start dipping."

"Fondue?" Brian turned his nose up at the idea of all those rampant calories.

"Yes, fondue. It's kind of a Christmas Eve tradition for my family," Justin insisted, grabbing a hold of Brian's pant leg and refusing to let his roomie escape the fun. "But, since my family doesn't really want me there anymore, Daph and I started doing it together last year. Now, it'll be YOUR new tradition too. So, sit down, and no complaining. This is a non-optional social convention, Mr. Kinney, and you can't get out of it!"

Brian let himself be tugged down until he was also seated on the floor in front of the coffee table. In front of him were two fondue pots, one full of hot cooking oil and the other full of gooey cheese sauce. In small bowls set around about the two pots were cut up steak and chicken bites, assorted veggies and hunks of crusty Italian bread. Daph handed Brian a long fondue fork with sharp metal tines, a slim black plastic handle and a little green fob on the end - apparently Justin had already claimed the blue fork and Daphne was the orange.

Brian had never tried fondue before. He'd always considered it to be the most frivolous form of repast and disdained to participate in any such silliness. It was inconceivable that Brian Kinney, the Stud of Liberty Avenue, would engage in something as undignified as sitting on the floor eating pieces of barely cooked meats or anything at all covered in gloppy cheese. But . . . well, Justin and Daphne looked like they were enjoying themselves - they were giggling, mock-sword fighting with their forks, making up silly rules about what you had to do if you lost the food off your fork and just generally having fun. Brian could join them in their fun, or he could slink away to his own room - alone - and hide out for the rest of the night. Faced with those two options, sitting on the floor and eating crap out of a little pot didn't seem so bad. With a half-hearted show of reluctance, Brian gave in, speared a small piece of steak with his fork and plunged it into the pot of oil.

As soon as Brian gave himself permission to indulge, he started having fun almost immediately. Justin and Daphne included him in all their little jokes and games. The scene was relaxed and cozy and friendly. Brian easily let himself get caught up in the amiable atmosphere and was only slightly surprised to hear himself laughing unrestrainedly along with the two younger people before very long.

When the bit of chicken Brian had been cooking accidentally fell off his fork, he even let himself play along with the rules of the table that said whoever lost their food in the fondue had to kiss the person sitting to their right. In this case, that happened to be Daphne, who pretended to be completely ravished by the chaste little kiss Brian planted on her cheek. The more Daphne hammed it up - pretending to almost faint with desire over the kiss - the more laughter there was until all three of them were almost rolling on the ground in their mirth.

After they’d devoured the last bite of fondue, Justin insisted that they HAD to watch Dr. Seuss’ ‘The Grinch Who Stole Christmas’! Apparently that was his favorite animated Christmas show and Justin could recite the entire movie along with the narrator. That led to Brian demanding that the short film be rewatched a second time - without the Justin Taylor commentary - so that he could actually hear the dialog. Brian made an unguarded comment that he’d never seen the whole thing before and Justin was about to give Brian shit about it, thinking that Brian was joking, when he noticed the intense concentration Brian was devoting to the story. Justin held back the snarky comment he was about to make and simply sat back, enjoying watching while Brian discovered this classic Christmas story for the first time, his own smile echoing Brian’s intermittent little grins.

After the movie, Daphne turned on the stereo and tuned in a radio station that was playing upbeat modern Christmas rock and roll songs. She and Justin warbled along with a couple of the tunes, danced a bit and eventually flopped down on the sofa with Brian. The three of them sat together talking about nothing much, making plans for the coming year, their jobs and school and everything else that came to mind. They stayed up late drinking the mulled wine that Justin made with a touch too much rum and not enough spices and eating the Christmas Cookies that Justin brought out on a special ‘Santa’ plate. They were all draped comfortably across the couch on top of each other and it was probably the most intimate moment, not involving sex, that Brian had ever felt in his entire life.

Sometime after midnight, Daphne yawned ostentatiously, untangled herself from the others on the couch and stood up. She winked at Justin and said she was going to go lie down in his room. Justin blushed a pretty dark rose color as he said goodnight to his best friend.

Before the bedroom door was even closed behind Daphne, though, Brian had pulled the younger man up onto his lap, swung Justin’s body around to face him and bent to take a taste of the tempting coral pink lips that he’d been admiring all night long. Justin didn’t want to resist. He had been ready for Daphne to make her departure for about the past hour and thought that the little kick he’d given her about two minutes before she finally got up had finally got his point across.

Justin willingly accepted Brian’s kiss as he leaned back and pulled Brian over on top of him. They stayed locked together in a tight embrace for long enough that their hearts were both racing by the time they took a breath. By some Christmas miracle, all of their clothing had simply vanished during that interminable kiss. After that it was all exploring hands wandering over supple skin, exploring lips, teeth and tongues following along behind the hands and nipping at the already aroused skin, all congregating at an especially sensitive spot every so often. Justin was sure that Brian had found at least three spots on his body that nobody had ever discovered before - the pulsing vein just under his left ear, the inside of one elbow and this particularly evocative spot on the inside of his right thigh - all of which were throbbing by the time Brian had worked his way down the sweet youthful body.

“Justin,” Brian whispered the name almost reverently just as his questing lips met the beginning of the peach fuzz that signalled the beginning of Justin’s treasure trail. Whiffing large breaths of Justin’s musky scent, Brian plunged his nose further into the wiry patch of dark blond hair that trailed lower and lower. He nipped and pulled gently at individual clumps of hair, the thin skin of Justin’s groin stimulated by each tug no matter how slight, causing his straining dick to twitch with every small movement. As Brian’s lips moved down incrementally, Justin’s cock brushed up against Brian’s cheek, the satin covered steel rod drawn to the warmth like a heat-seeking missile. Brian chuckled at the tapping on his cheek, and turned his head to greet the dark plum colored head with a tiny initial kiss that caused Justin to groan for more.

Every moan and grunt that Brian pulled out of the writhing body underneath him sent subliminal messages to his brain, compelling him on to more and greater heights of lust. But, under the lust, there was something more that Brian was reluctant to even acknowledge. Something, maybe even a bit emotional? Brian felt a connection with this man - this younger man, this overly-sentimental man, this man who wore his heart on his sleeve and whose every emotion was displayed for the world to see on his beautiful open face, this man who made him feel that he was losing control - a connection that he’d never even dreamed possible.

For Brian, sex had always been all about control and power. He was inevitably the one in control. He had to be in control in order to make himself feel secure in this world full of others whose only intent was to hurt him. Brian’s every action since long before he’d escaped the torture of his parents’ house, had been focused on taking control of himself and his environment. More than anything else, sex had always been Brian’s means of maintaining that control. He chose the trick. He chose when and where. He could command sex at a whim or deny it upon just as fleeting a thought. It was about pleasure, but even more about the power to command that pleasure.

At least it had been until Brian had met Justin Taylor. Suddenly, Brian wasn’t sure he was in control any more. He found himself reacting to the needs and desires of this young man instead of creating those needs and desires. It was outside of his realm of experience so he didn’t know why it was happening or how to stop it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to stop. All Brian knew was that, for maybe the first time in his life, he cared more about what his partner was feeling than about the act of sex itself.

So, when Justin’s mounting grunts and groans started becoming more demanding, Brian felt the immediate need to satisfy his lover. He didn’t even think about holding back to prolong the moment for himself. He was more than ready - his own dick was throbbing and dripping but he didn’t even register his own needs as he squirmed into the perfect spot between Justin’s thighs. With a brief glance up at the beautiful, radiant face above him, the twinkling lights from the Christmas tree reflecting off Justin’s bright blond hair and pale, almost translucent skin, Brian immersed himself in the perfection of Justin Taylor. He would give up all control. He would do whatever it took to gratify this particular man. Brian pledged that he would make this night the best that his young lover had ever seen, even if it meant opening up his own soul to that elusive and vaguely dangerous concept of ‘love’.

               <><><><><><><><>

Chapter 22 - Best Christmas Ever!

Brian awoke to glorious streams of bright white sunlight flooding through the window over his bed. The light had that pale yet piercing quality that winter sunlight always seems to have. When Brian shifted so that the most annoying beam of sunlight wasn't beating directly into his eyes, he dislodged a soft pile of blond boy which had been snuggled up against his left side. The small movement caused the mop of long blond hair to roll into the midst of the swath of sunlight painting a large stripe across the rumpled sheets of the bed. Brian watched the little motes of dust drifting through the beam, circling ever closer to the sleeping boy's illuminated countenance, his white blond hair gleaming so much it looked like there was a halo encircling Justin's cherubic face.

'Fuck! He's so beautiful!' The emotion behind Brian's lesbionic thoughts took him by surprise. He reached one hand down to lightly trail his fingers along the lines of Justin’s jaw and cheek and chin. His thumb drifted over the contours of the plump full lips with a barely-there touch. Brian was trying desperately to resist the need to lick at that full pouting bottom lip, or kiss the paper-thin, blue-veined eyelids or run his tongue across the roughness of the stubbled cheeks. He couldn’t resist the need to press his groin against the sleeping boy’s hips, the pressure against his inflamed dick making the contact just bearable for a fleeting moment. Justin was so beautiful while he slept that Brian didn’t want to wake him, except that he wanted with all his heart to wake the boy and take immediate possession of the pure soul and the willing body just the way he’d done the night before.

Brian was caught between the conflicting impulses for a very long time - should he wake the serene beauty and ravish him or let the seemingly innocent boy continue to sleep? He was paralyzed by his indecision. All he could do was hold on to the sleeping youth, pressing the boy against his side delicately so as not to wake him abruptly, and memorizing the enchanting face lit up by the single ray of Christmas Morning sunshine. It was such a relief when the fragile eyelids began to flutter open and then the liquid blue eyes focused on his own face. Seeing the reflections of his own wonder in those wide-open, trusting eyes caused Brian to sigh loudly. When he was graced with a smile that rivaled the brightness of the sunbeam, Brian actually smiled back with a rare, unrestrained smile of his own.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Brian whispered, unwilling to break the connection between their eyes even to blink.

“Merry Christmas, Brian,” Justin replied with an almost shy smile.

“Look, Santa left me some sweet little blond boy ass! I must have been extra good this year!” Brian teased as he pinched the gift ass in question.

“Owww! Be nice or the Grinch will take your new toy away from you,” Justin warned and scooted his injured tush away from Brian’s strong fingers.

“Nnmmmmhhh,” Brian whimpered just like a greedy three-year-old. “But I didn’t even get to play with it yet this morning. No fair! I want my blond boy toy back! Come over here and let me play with you! Come on! I promise to play nice - well, not exactly nice but I won’t be too naughty, Sunshine.”

Brian was grappling for the squirming boy who was trying, not all that hard, to escape the older man’s grasp. They wrestled for several minutes, laughing, tickling each other and tangling themselves in the bedsheets until they were both completely out of breath. When Justin started shouting ‘Uncle’, Brian finally gave in and they collapsed together in a giggling heap in the center of the bed.

Which was when Daphne burst into Brian’s room, dressed in a thick red fleece robe, her hair done up in pigtails and her feet bundled into fuzzy extra-large bunny slippers. “Good morning, Boys! Rise and Shine! It’s time to open presents!” Daphne ordered as she fwamped herself onto the foot of the bed, completely disregarding the undressed and mostly aroused state of her two new bedmates.

“Get the fuck out of here, Daph!” Justin complained as he unsuccessfully tried to pull the blankets out from under his ass to cover himself. “Don’t you ever fucking knock?”

“Why bother? With all the ruckus you two were making you wouldn’t have heard me anyway,” Daphne replied with a giggle, not at all embarrassed by the naked male pieces-parts she was busy getting an eyeful of. “But, it doesn’t matter anyway because it’s time to get up. I want to open my presents. You two have to stop pawing at each other and put on clothing long enough to come watch me. And, I’m not leaving until you do, so get a move on!”

“You’re a demanding wench in the mornings, Princess,” Brian remarked defiantly, giving Justin a last big, wet, tongue-filled kiss in protest at being disturbed before he got to play with his Christmas toy.

But, with only a tiny bit of grumbling, both men eventually crawled out of bed and pulled on pants while Daphne watched, cajoled and harassed them into moving faster. Brian refused to do anything though before he was plied with sufficient amounts of coffee. Justin seconded the coffee proposal and added an addendum that required the provision of breakfast as well before any presents were even attempted. Daphne objected strenuously, but was shouted down by the opposition and ended up pouting at the end of the table while forced to wait for coffee to brew and eggs to be beaten and cooked into scrumptious omelets. Justin had already been prepared with a sugary Christmas Almond Kringle pastry that went great with the eggs and they all three had a mini-feast for Christmas breakfast while Daphne impatiently eyed the small heap of packages waiting under Gus’ specially decorated tree.

Finally, when it looked like Daphne was about to fall off her chair she was squirming so much, Brian and Justin both relented, agreeing that they had been caffeinated and fed enough to allow for the next part of Christmas to proceed. Daphne squealed and bounced off her chair, hopping all the way over to the tree. She started digging immediately amid the presents but was forcibly pulled back and forced to sit on the couch by Justin, who insisted that Christmas Stockings came first. He took over present delivery duties, seating his two companions on the couch and pulling down two of the three stockings that had mysteriously appeared overnight, pinned to the wall next to the Christmas tree. Justin handed one stocking to Daphne and one to Brian. He seated himself on the arm of the sofa next to Brian and watched with an expectant grin while the other two delved into their stockings.

Justin the Elf had been responsible for the appearance of the stockings, sneaking out in the wee hours of the morning to hang and fill the stockings. He’d put a couple of satsuma oranges, some chocolates and a couple of small Christmasy toys and puzzles in each stocking. He also had found some licorice flavored candied coal lumps - specially wrapped for the holidays - which he’d added. Also inside were intricately designed handmade ‘coupon books’, illustrated with Justin’s handiwork, offering each of the recipients a free back massage, a foot massage, a shoulder to complain/cry on and even, unlimited ‘Love’. Finally, he had put in the gift certificate he’d gotten Daphne for a mani/pedi and another for drinks at Bill’s Bar & Burgers for Brian.

Justin watched with satisfaction as the two dug out their little gifts, expressing almost endless appreciation for the small presents. Daphne was effusive with her thanks. Brian was more quiet and looked at each individual item in his stocking with wonder before thanking Justin sincerely. It was as if Brian hadn’t expected to get anything at all and each little trinket or treat added incrementally to his amazement. Justin thought it was more fun to give Brian gifts than he’d ever expected.

“Sunshine, aren’t you going to look in your stocking?” Brian asked when both his and Daphne’s stockings were finally emptied, a look of expectant amusement taking over his face as he watched the industrious little elf turn to his own stocking

Justin had expected his stocking to be empty since he’d been the one to play elf. But, to his amazement and delight, Justin discovered that his own stocking was very lumpy - to the point that it was almost bursting. He smiled over his shoulder at Brian and Daphne and carefully pulled out the thumb tack holding up the rather heavy stocking. Justin then carried the stocking full of  treasure over to the nearby armchair and turned it upside down over his lap.

Inside Justin’s stocking there wasn’t a horde of candies or trinkets like in the others. Instead, with a bit of heavy shaking, the stocking gave up it’s only contents - Justin’s pair of Travelling Sneakers, just as holey and dirty as ever, but with a sparkly, red gift envelope now threaded into the joined laces. Justin looked over at Brian with sheer, unadulterated surprise as he opened up the little red envelope. Inside there was a rather plain little card that was elegantly printed with the name of the ‘Metropolitan Museum of Art’. When Justin looked more closely, he discovered it was a year’s membership to the museum allowing him and one guest unlimited access to the museum. The young artist beamed his pleasure up at his lover who had just given him the perfect gift. Justin could see himself putting a lot more wear on the old tennis shoes after spending a full year at the Met!

“Thank you! This is the perfect gift. I love the Met. And I can’t really afford to go there as often as I’d like,” Justin gushed and launched himself at Brian with a big bear hug.

“Why are you thanking me?” Brian asked with as much innocence as he could muster, folding his lips in to hide the smile that threatened to escape against his will. “Isn’t Santa the one who puts the shit in the stockings?”

“Yeah, riiiiiight. . .  Well, thanks, Santa,” Justin said, kissing Brian thoroughly anyway.

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop,” Daphne intervened as the kissing looked like it might get out of control. “No snogging until I get all my presents!”

Justin broke out laughing at the immature behavior but he did get off of Brian and headed back over to the tree to retrieve one of the gaily wrapped packages underneath. “Here you go, Daphne. Merry Christmas you big goof!”

Daph ripped into the package, tearing the lovely wrapping paper off in shreds in less than fifteen seconds. The largish hardbound book inside barely survived the opening process, one corner of the book jacket even getting a small tear as a result of Daphne’s exuberance. Justin enjoyed seeing his friend’s face light up with humor though as soon as she read the title to the book, ‘The Official Fag Hag Handbook - How to Keep Your Gay Boi Happy, Healthy and Satisfied All Year Long.’ With a giggle, Daphne dove right into the book, flipping through the various sections like ‘Shopping with Your Gay Boi’, ‘Fun Foods - The Gayest Recipes Ever’, ‘Playing Wingwoman’, ‘Keeping the Straight Women In Check’, ‘What He Wants vs. What He Needs’, and ‘Let’s Talk Condoms, Girls’. The whole book was written with tongue-in-cheek humor and meant to be inoffensive, but with a few biting truisms that made the whole thing even more of a fun read.She read snippets aloud and amused them all for several minutes until they finally remembered the rest of the presents waiting.

“Open mine next,” Daphne insisted as Justin returned to digging amongst the packages.

Daph’s present to Justin was actually a tower of three rectangular boxes all tied together with one ribbon. Justin wasn’t quite as destructive in the present opening process as his best friend, but he did opt for tearing off the ribbon and paper so as to get to the good stuff inside more quickly. Inside the top box, Justin discovered a set of colorful chalks. In the second box, which was slightly bigger than the first, was a set of professional grade crayons - ones that Justin had been looking at just a few weeks ago but decided not to buy because of the price tag. Finally, in the largest box, there was an amazing set of professional watercolor pencils that Justin had been just dying to get his hands on for use in his drawings. It was the best possible present that Justin could have received from his friend. He spent several minutes just sitting there admiring all his new tools and imagining the art masterpieces he could make with all this color.

“This would seem to be the perfect segue to my gift, Sunshine,” Brian interrupted Justin’s artistic fantasies, getting up to pull another present out of the pile and hand it over to the artiste.

“Brian, you didn’t have to . . . the gift certificate to the Met was more than enough,” Justin was embarrassed by the attention Brian seemed to be directing at him with all these gifts.

Brian shrugged without commenting further but continued to hold the rather large present out to Justin. Brian’s eyes were glinting with expectation and there was a hint of a smile curling at the corners of his sensuous lips and just a hint of nervous energy betrayed by his shifting stance. Justin found the combination of unsure little boy and strong, self-reliant man to be simply adorable. He smiled up at Brian and held out his hands so that Brian could lay the package across his arms. The parcel seemed even bigger once Justin was holding it - It was almost a foot across and more than a foot in length, but it was fairly thick, too - Justin was stumped as to what it could be.

Brain reseated himself on the couch next to Justin. His bouncing knee was giving away how anxious the man was while he waited to see if Justin would like this gift as much as the last one. Justin remembered his earlier thought about how much fun it was to give this man gifts and decided it was almost as much fun to watch how excited Brian got while giving gifts. He almost didn’t want to open the package since it was so heartwarming to watch Brian’s anxious expectations. But Justin couldn’t keep his own curiosity in check for long and, with a beaming smile at the big brunet, he turned the package over and started to strip off the elegant green and gold wrapping paper.

Inside the decorative paper, Justin discovered an even more elegant leather bound portfolio-style sketch book. The black leather cover was soft but strongly stitched and had a stylish silver hasp on the front. Justin exclaimed over the gift as soon as he saw it. Brian radiated a smug satisfaction at Justin’s obvious pleasure. Justin immediately opened the clasp on the front and opened the book to find a thick pad of heavy-bond, lightly textured 9x12” paper attached to the right hand side. It was the perfect paper for pencil or charcoal drawings and the artist could picture in his mind how great it would be to use the new watercolor pencils Daph had given him on this creamy paper. Justin’s palms literally itched to take hold of a pencil and start drawing in this wonderful book immediately.

On the inside left cover of the sketchbook, Justin’s name had been embossed in gold with a large flowing script. Right below the name, there was a clear plastic pocket that just happened to be the perfect size to hold his new Met membership card. This had to be the most exquisite gift Justin had ever received. He looked up at Brian with such overwhelming delight and wonder that the older man felt like his own soul was topped up with delight as well.

“Thank you, Brian. This is beautiful. I can’t wait to start drawing in it. I promise not to ever draw at the Met without it.”

“No problem, Sunshine. A beautiful and talented artist like yourself should have beautiful things to work with.” Brian was feeling so effusive this morning that he wasn’t monitoring his words as carefully as he usually did and he didn’t even care how lesbionic that had sounded.

Justin blushed three different shades of dark pink at the over-the-top compliment. Daphne ‘Ahhhh’d from her nearby chair, which embarrassed Justin even more and caused the stoic Brian Kinney to look like he’d been caught doing something naughty. Everyone except Daphne was busy feeling awkward for the next several minutes until Justin remembered there were still a few packages under the tree. It was a perfect distraction. He jumped up and practically ran over to the tree and pulled out a small green gift bag that he didn’t recognize. The gift tag said it was for Daphne, though, which would conveniently shut the gushing girl up, so Justin eagerly brought that over to the waiting group.

“Another for me? Ooohhhh! I must have been a very good girl this year!” Daphne grabbed at the small bag, separating the raffia handles and then froze as soon as she saw what was inside.

After a moment or two, a supersonic, high-pitched squeal erupted from the young woman who started bouncing in her seat like a mexican jumping bean sitting in the hot desert sun. Much more carefully than she’d handled any of the other packages so far, Daphne reached inside the bag and pulled out a distinctive, Tiffany’s blue box tied with a broad white ribbon. The squealing noise got a bit louder as soon as the girl confirmed that she was indeed holding her very first ever Tiffany’s gift box. She seemed so overly excited by the box itself that she didn’t even move to open it for several, loud, squeaky moments, while Justin and Brian both cringed away from the spectacle.

“Sunshine,” Brian looked to his equally deafened companion, pleading with his eyes for help. “If you don’t do something about that noise, my head is going to explode.”

Justin nodded in full agreement and then moved over towards the almost hyperventilating girl who was still just staring at the little blue box in her hands. “Daphne. Daphne! Stop. I’m pretty sure it’s NOT an engagement ring so please, please stop screeching or I’ll take it away.”

“But, Jus, it’s my first Tiffany’s box. Ever!” Daphne replied, snatching back her gift so Justin couldn’t get ahold of it and take it away. “Geesh! Every girl dreams of getting one of these. Can’t you just let me revel in the experience for a few minutes!”

“Not at that decibel level, I can’t,” Justin insisted, towering over her with hands on hips and glowering at his friend with a warning look.

“Fine. Party Pooper!” Daphne declared as she seemed to come back to her usual self and looked again at the gift tag which clearly showed that the gift was from Brian. “Brian? This is from you. That’s . . . that’s amazing. Thank you.”

“Shouldn’t you open it first before you start thanking me, Princess,” Brian chuckled, thrilled with the enthusiastic response he was getting to this rather last minute gift he’d picked up.

Daphne smiled and giggled, then quickly started to untie the ribbon. There was another squeal - this time a bit more subdued, though - when Daph opened up the box and found a classy set of silver and garnet earrings inside. Five beautiful marquis shaped gems dropped down, tied together by a fine silver chain, from each ear wire. They were incredibly simple and yet elegant and Daphne was overcome with gratitude for the absolutely uncalled for present.

“Brian! These are beautiful! I can’t believe you got me such a wonderful gift. You didn’t have to get me anything, you know, we’ve only just met and  . . .  These are the most extravagant thing I think I’ve ever owned. You’re so amazing! You’re too good to be true!” Daphne launched herself into Brian’s unsuspecting lap and started kissing at his cheeks with wild abandon while Brian tried desperately to get away from the too-ardent thanks being heaped upon him.

“Daphne. Daphne, stop! Really, it’s not that big of a deal. They’re not solid gold or anything. Just garnets. . . “ Brian tried to deprecate the gift in order to get the girl to unhand him.

It took both Brian and Justin to finally get Daphne back under control and disentangle the girl from Brian's lap. Even then she kept on thanking Brian incessantly until he threatened, only half-jokingly, to take the earrings back if she didn't shut the fuck up. Justin sat back and shook his head at both of them, thinking that this had already been one of the most eventful Christmases in his whole life.

"Brian, this is from Gus," Justin said, trying to shift the focus by handing Brian a small badly wrapped package covered in blue paper printed with pictures of dancing snowmen.

"Ahhhh, one of the infamous and mysterious 'crefs'," Brian accepted the package, his joking words contrasting with the touch of reverence showing on his face as he looked over the small gift, hesitant to unwrap the treasure. "You know, this is the first present I've ever received from my Sonnyboy."

"I promise it won't bite if you open it," Justin teased, trying to alleviate some of Brian's evident discomfort, while sitting down next to the proud father on the couch.

Brian bumped Justin's shoulder playfully and then turned the little package over in his hands. While the others had wildly torn at the wrapping on their gifts, Brian took his time and carefully prized off each piece of tape, trying not to rip the paper, and unfolded every crease with gentle fingers. It took him an interminable amount of time to unwrap just the one little gift from Gus, Justin thought. The youth sat waiting eagerly to see how this man would like the present he'd helped Gus make.

When Brian finally finished unveiling the gift, he simply stared at it for a long moment. Gus and Justin had taken a very basic wooden frame and painted it a bright green. Then, Gus had painted cutout wooden letters spelling out ‘DAD’ along with some other shapes depicting a baseball cap, glove and a ball. The painting itself was primitive, but someone - most likely Justin - had come along later and put in accents on the shapes that cleaned up the shapes and made them identifiable. When the paint had dried, Justin had glued the shapes to the frame as Gus directed. Inside the frame was a picture Justin had taken of Brian and Gus together the prior weekend, showing them both standing in front of the ice skating rink at Rockefeller Plaza at night with the huge lighted tree in the background.

“Justin, this is . . “ Brian wasn’t exactly sure how to end that sentence - He was feeling unaccountably swamped by warring foreign emotions that he didn’t know how to express or even if he should. As usual, Brian tried to deflect the emotion of the situation with humor, stating brusquely, “at least it’s not the tackiest present I’ve ever seen. Debbie has worse at her place . . .”

“Come on, Brian. It’s adorable,” Daphne insisted, unwilling to let the man off the hook that easily. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen, Jus. I’m sure Gus had a great time making it, too. Now, stop being all studly and reticent, Brian, and tell Justin that it’s wonderful or I’ll come over there and tickle you silly until you do!”

“It’s wonderful, Sunshine,” Brian responded obediently but Justin could hear the sincerity hidden behind the joking words and he was more than happy with the response he managed to get from the usually reserved older gentleman.

"Okay, last present," Justin announced, moving back to the tree and picking up the flat 10x20" package wrapped in silly snowman paper. "This is from me, Brian. Sorry about the wrapping paper. It was leftover from when I helped Gus."

“It’s definitely festive,” Brian commented as he accepted the large package.

Again, Brian unwrapped the package with painful attention, trying not to tear the paper and pressing out any creases with his hands. The anticipation and time it was taking to open the package was killing Justin, who wanted to reach over and just rip the paper off so that he could finally see Brian’s reaction to the gift. But, somehow, Justin restrained his impulses and kept his hands away from Brian’s present. Eventually, even Brian managed to get all the wrapping paper off and turned the large rectangular item over.

What he saw blew Brian away. He’d known from the shape of the package that it was probably a picture or drawing, but Brian hadn’t expected anything like this. What he discovered was a breathtaking painting of himself and Gus, sitting together on a picnic bench. It was an image Brian recognized from last summer. He didn’t know how Justin had gotten ahold of that image, but the painting of the scene was so true to life it was stunning. There was Brian seated next to Gus on a picnic table with the summer sun shining down on them and their obvious joy in just being there together shining out of their eyes. Brian was amazed at how Justin caught so much emotion in such a simple portrait. It was so beautiful. It was so sentimental and the emotions it evinced so visceral that Brian almost couldn’t look at the picture. Brian remembered that day and how close he had felt to his son at the moment and he was overwhelmed with the memories. He didn’t know what he COULD say to Justin that could possibly explain how much this painting meant to him.

“Justin . . . I - I - I . . . It’s amazing. It’s . . . beautiful. Thank you,” was all Brian managed to say while trying his best to hide his raw and volatile emotions.

While Brian was struggling with these unfamiliar sentiments, a familiar furry grey form sauntered into the room and jumped up onto the coffee table with an insistent ‘Mow’. Winston proceeded to start his morning bath right there on the table in front of everyone, not at all self-conscious and completely unaware that he was inadvertently providing a well-needed distraction. As the cat stuck out his right hind foot and started licking at his inner thigh, Brian chuckled and suddenly remembered one last gift he had hidden away.

Without saying anything, Brian got up from the couch and jogged off to his bedroom. He emerged seconds later with a very tiny little present - a rounded square about three inches high and two inches across. Brian immediately laid the small package down in front of the cat, who sniffed at the oddly shaped packet interestedly.

“I saw this for the Fuzzball when I was out,” Brian explained unnecessarily, trying to play down the fact that he’d bought a Christmas present for a cat.

After two or three sniffs, Winston decided he was definitely interested in whatever was in the small package. The cat immediately snagged the small package with one long sharp claw and pulled it into his body so he could get a good full-body hold on the object. As soon as he had the oblong packet in his firm grip, Winston flopped down on his side and, with full kitty-style aggression, he began to rake at the wrapping paper with his rear claws in a manner not that different from the way Daphne had attacked her own gifts. Within seconds, Winston had his present ‘unwrapped’ and had discovered a catnip hedgehog full of something that smelled just wonderful. Before his person could even detach the toy from the packaging it came with, Winston had started to bite at and gnaw on the poor hedgehog toy. Then, with utter kittenish abandon, Winston tossed the toy, packaging and all, high into the air and about halfway across the room, before he pounded after it in full catnip instilled, drugged-out, kitty-crazy mode.

“Oh Brian. You don’t really know what cats and catnip together mean, do you?” Justin asked as the paperboard package still attached to the catnip hedgehog flew across everybody’s line of vision into the bottom branches of the Christmas tree followed by an avid Cat who was intent on destroying all things tainted with catnip.

The tree shuddered violently as the cat and the hedgehog fell through it’s branches, skewing the tree slightly to the left before the struggling mass of cat and catnip finally descended to the ground and the hedgehog toy was flipped somewhere else.

“What the fuck?” Brian exclaimed as he was almost hit in the nose by a flying hedgehog toy followed immediately by a furry grey blur which dived over the back of the couch. “Well, I’ve always said that, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” Brian chuckled, opened his hand and showed the other two Christmas revelers what else he’d brought out of the bedroom.

“Merry Christmas!” Brian said and shrugged as he handed a joint to both Justin and Daphne.

Nobody even mentioned that they were starting in on the weed before ten o’clock in the morning. It WAS a holiday, after all and Winston had already started without them.

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

Chapter 23 - Christmas Lights.

"Hello! Santa's Merry Elfshop! *Giggle* Head elf, Cindy Lou Who, speaking. Wait . . . maybe that should be elf Cindy Lou Who gives head. *Snort* How can we make your holidays higher *bbbrrrtthhh* I mean merrier? *Hehehehe* "

"Well, I sure as hell know that you're NOT Brian Kinney, so just who the fuck are you sweetheart and where's the Asshole Himself?"

"That's not very merry elf-like language, missy! I bet you only got coal in your stocking this year! *teehee* Now, ask nicely or I won't let you talk to Santa! Oh uh, Santa’s got his tongue shoved down the Sunshine Elf’s throat - he probably can’t talk right now anyway. *snort giggle* Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘Santa’s Cumming’ don’t you think? Hah!"

"Daphne, you stoned out little freak, give me my phone," Brian finally managed to free his lips from Justin's kiss and grab the purloined cellphone out of Daphne's merry little hands. "No more catnip for you, Princess! Sunshine, take your best friend and force her to drink some coffee, please, while I answer my OWN phone." There was a lot of giggling in the background and a couple of the ‘elves’ apparently started in on a chorus of ‘Deck the Halls with Boughs of Catnip’ before Brian chortled out a giddy, “Merry, Merry!” into the phone in lieu of a greeting.

“Brian? Is that you? Aren’t you starting the hard core celebrating a little early, kiddo?” came the voice of Debbie Novotny through the speaker of the cell phone.

“Deb! How the fuck are you?” Brian responded jovially. “Merry Fucking Christmas! Santa got everyone here catnip this year and we were just testing it out to see if it was fresh. *snort* How’s things in the Pitts?”

“Not nearly as jolly as at your place, it seems,” Debbie laughed with only a trace of motherly disapproval at her surrogate son’s antics.

“That was just Daphne,” Brian explained as he moved down the hall towards his bedroom so his call wouldn’t be drowned out by the choruses of ‘Fa la la’s booming out of the kitchen as the elves made a pot of coffee. “That girl is such a lightweight. I think I’m going to have to take away the rest of her catnip.” An extra-loud ‘La la la’ interrupted him right then and Brian added with a chuckle, “maybe Justin’s too. . . So, Deb, is this just a general happy holiday call or did you want to berate me for something new that’s all my fault?”

“What have you done now that I would need to dress you down for, kiddo?” Deb asked warily.

“Nothing. It’s just . . . I figured that since Michael is still pissed off at me you wouldn’t be calling just to say hi and pass on the latest Liberty Avenue gossip. So, what’s up?” Brian asked unenthusiastically, feeling much more sober now that he was alone in his room and there were no merry little elves to distract him.

“I know you and Michael have had your differences, lately,” Debbie cavilled a bit, seemingly unsure of how to start this conversation. “That doesn’t mean I don’t love you like a son, though, Brian. Even when you move out of state and don’t call me for two months.”

“Ah, the motherly guilt trip,” Brian snarked. “That’s just what I wanted to hear from my loving family back home.”

“Asshole. That’s NOT why I called, but you do deserve it for not calling me,” Debbie nagged affectionately. “The reason I called you is to pass on my big news and inform you that you’re going to have to get your ass back here to the Pitts next week whether you like it or not.”

“What? I work for a living, Deb. I don’t have time . . . “

“. . . To come to my wedding?” Debbie didn’t let Brian’s rant get too far.

“Your wedding? What the fuck are you babbling about Deb? I think I’m too stoned for this conversation. Did you just say you’re getting married?” Brian was floored by this abrupt announcement. “Who the hell are you marrying and why?”

“You remember that hunky police detective that I was dating last summer, Carl Horvath?” Debbie was spiritedly burbling with her exciting news. “Well, he surprised me last night with a big ass fucking diamond ring and proposed right there at Christmas Eve dinner in front of everyone. Now, I know I said I wouldn’t ever get married until same sex couples had equal rights, but Carl kind of took me by storm and everybody was egging me on and . . . well, I just completely lost it and . . . well, I just said ‘Yes’ and the next thing I know we’re planning a wedding on New Year’s Eve.”

“Deb, you crazy romantic old fool. I’m gone for two lousy months and look what you go and do. Kids today,” Brian tried not to sound too jubilant even though he was secretly thrilled for his surrogate mother and glad that she still wanted to include him in the family.

Debbie spent the next fifteen minutes telling Brian everything about the surprise proposal, the responses of everyone in the family and all about their plans to tie the knot in front of a friend of Carl’s who was a judge. Brian pretended to not care what anyone said and that it would be a huge hardship for him to make the trip to PA, while he quietly ate up all the news about the friends that he hadn’t seen or heard from in so long.

“So, you need to be here no later than noon on Tuesday, kiddo. And, no excuses, you hear me. If you don’t make it to my one and only wedding, I’ll have your balls for earrings.” Debbie insisted with her usual flair for inventive threats.

“Fine! I’ll be there. Is that all, your majesty?” Brian replied with mock annoyance, already mentally planning his trip and trying to figure out how he could get Carl to accept his help to send Debbie on a truly spectacular honeymoon.

“Well, yeah, except that . . . I think you should call Michael,” Debbie had to meddle - it was her nature. “I think it’s time you two stubborn little shits talk and work things out. He’s been missing you something awful and I know you’ve been missing him too even though you won’t admit it. So, as my wedding present from the both of you, I want you guys to work it out and stop being such idiots.”

“Deb, I don’t think . . .”

“That’s right - you don’t need to think. Just do as I say. You hear me?” Debbie could be just as relentless as Brian, if not more so, and he knew it too.  

Brian was just about to concede defeat and promise Debbie that he would follow orders and try to talk to Michael when he was startled by a disturbingly loud crash and several shrieks of alarm coming from the front room. Brian leapt off the bed and was pulling open his door within seconds while Debbie continued to lecture him on why he should obey her. As soon as the door was opened, a small blurry fuzzy streak of craziness propelled itself into Brian’s shin, bounced off, ricocheted off the doorframe and continued on in a mad dash until the insane furball disappeared under Brian’s bed.

“Winston!” the insane ball of fur was followed almost immediately by two angry, no-longer-quite-so-merry elves, pelting down the hallway after the cat with their hands full of broken Christmas ornaments.

“Uh, Deb, I think I better go,” Brian said between giggles as he watched Justin and Daphne trying to pick stray pine needles out of their hair and throwing pieces of broken popcorn balls at Winston as the kitty cowered under the bed in a catnip induced, Christmas-tree-falling-on-him-haze. “I promise to get there for the wedding. Bye!” Brian didn’t wait for a response before he hung up.

“You are ALL cut off - especially the mad Fuzzball!” Brian declared as he swatted away the two kamikaze elves and their popcorn ball missiles, then got down on his knees so he could partially crawl under the bed.

Somehow Brian managed to coax the catnip befuddled cat out from under the bed. The poor pussy seemed too dazed to really know what was going on, and Brian made a mental note to hide the catnip hedgehog. He scooped Winston into his arms, glaring at Justin and Daphne who were once again hooting with laughter at some random thing that appealed to their fuzzy brains and subsequently scaring the cat all over again. The little Fuzzball stared up at his saviour with catnip glazed eyes and let Brian whisk him away from the frightening laughter and continual rain of popcorn ball pieces.

“Come on, Fuzzball. I’ll save you from the demented elves,” Brian reassured the cat, petting the soft fur and backing away from the two madly giggling young people who had now collapsed in a heap on the bedroom floor.

Once Brian had confiscated Winston’s catnip hedgehog the cat eventually calmed down. Justin and Daphne were given copious quantities of black coffee and fed and they both came down off the ceiling too. The two young people lolled on the couch listlessly while Brian puttered around the apartment, cleaning up discarded swathes of wrapping paper, bits and pieces of popcorn balls and decapitated gingerbread ornaments.

The mindless familiarity of moving around and picking things up gave Brian the perfect opportunity to think. The call from Debbie and invitation to a wedding had come out of the blue. Brian had been so busy establishing his new life in New York that he’d conveniently been able to ignore dealing with the problems he’d left behind in Pittsburgh. But, now it seemed that he was going to have to sort things out sooner rather than later. He had less than a week to figure it all out. Exactly how he was going to make up with Michael was still a mystery.

The Christmas tree which Winston had crashed into earlier in his fit of catnip crazies had been picked up off the ground and was semi-upright but still leaning precariously to the left in it’s stand. It looked rather sad now that half it’s festive ornaments were broken or torn and the tree itself was sagging askew. Brian tried to right it a couple times, but couldn’t get the tree to stand up straight. Justin dragged himself off the couch and crawled over, lying stretched out under the tree so he could adjust the screws in the stand that held the tree trunk. With both men helping, it only took a minute or two for them to get the tree back to normal before they plugged the lights back in. Three big contented sighs accompanied the relighting of the tree and everyone’s spirits seemed boosted now that their little festival was back on track.

Justin was still lying on his back under the tree, looking up through the branches at the twinkling lights. Brian had to laugh. The kid looked like a five year old doing that, especially considering the goofy look of innocent wonder on his face as he lay under the merry little tree dreaming. Brian couldn’t resist - he just had to find out what, exactly, Justin was looking at that was so fascinating - so he flopped down on the carpet next to the lad, squirmed until his head was touching the long mop of blond and directed his attention upwards.

“I always used to do this when I was a kid,” Justin said in a hushed voice, not turning to look at Brian but reaching out his hand to grasp Brian’s. “I love all the colors. Even when my parents would have some boring old tree with just single-colored lights, it somehow would still look totally different when you laid down under it and looked up. I guess it’s all about getting a different perspective on things. It just seems much more magical like this.”

Brian thought the lights were amazing, but not nearly as beautiful as the countenance of the young man lying next to him. He found himself looking at Justin more than at the tree. If this was what Christmas was really all about, Brian thought that maybe it wasn’t so horrid after all. It was definitely a far cry from anything he’d ever experienced before at the holidays.

*Snap* The flash from Daphne’s camera phone went off and both men looked up at her in surprise. “You two are soooooo adorable!” Daph gushed, ducking to avoid getting hit with the rain of popcorn ball pieces that the two men lobbed her way. “Fine. If you’re going to be that way. . . and since Brian won’t let me have any more ‘catnip’, I guess that’s my cue to head on home.”

Five minutes later Daphne was dressed and had all her Christmas loot packed up. She affectionately kicked both men’s feet, since neither one had bothered to get up from their comfy spot under the tree. Then, after another round of ‘Merry Christmas’, the woman bopped off on her merry way to spread Christmas mischief somewhere else.

Justin rolled onto his side so he was facing Brian and smiled one of his biggest, sunshiny smiles. “Alone at last!” he teased and moved just that much closer to the man lying next to him. “So, I’ve always wanted to fool around under a Christmas tree. . . “

“What a kinky little boy, Sunshine,” Brian said as he rolled to meet the advancing blond.”Won’t Santa put you on his ‘naughty’ list next year if you do indecent things like that?”

“Nah, I think Santa would understand,” Justin whispered and reached one hand over so he could card his fingers through the auburn hair that showed red and blond highlights under the influence of the tree lights. “Besides, you’re the best present I could get and Santa’s used to little boys playing with their new toys under the tree on Christmas Day, right? Got any toys I can play with?”

“First, I’m going to unwrap you. . .” Brian didn’t get any further on his plans for his Justin-present though, since his lips were attacked at that point by the coral pink lips of a certain jolly and rather horny little blond-headed elf.

The first kiss started off tender, their mouths barely touching, their hot breath almost a more tangible feeling than the pressure of lips on lips. The second kiss was much more substantial, with Brian rolling so that his larger body was now half covering Justin’s smaller frame and allowing him to make more of an impact. By the time they’d come around to the third and all subsequent kisses, their mouths were needy and insistent, their lips pressing against each other hard with teeth nipping and tongues tasting as they went. Justin, no longer content to lie back and be kissed, took Brian by surprise and forcefully rolled them both over, knocking a spray of glitter down off the tree as they knocked against it. The glitter off the tree wafted slowly down, covering both men’s faces and hair and reflecting the lights from the tree in a glorious shimmering aura around the two writhing bodies.

Brian quickly moved on from Justin’s lips, as tasty as they were, his mouth drawn down the long lean lines of his lover’s luscious neck. He struggled to get to more skin, only momentarily slowed down by the t-shirt that was covering up Justin’s delicious torso. Breaking his connection with the shiny, glittering body of his lover only long enough to pull the offensive clothing over Justin’s head, Brian dove back down for another mouthful of tender, succulent twink. His mouth ravened over the spicy-sweet, tempting treat of Justin’s shoulders and chest, latching on briefly to the hard little nub of one nipple and then the other. Justin arched his back, loving the sensation of Brian’s mouth on his body, and bumped his head against the lowest branches of the tree, causing more glitter to adorn his beautiful skin. Brian moaned aloud at the radiant sight and tried unsuccessfully to wrestle his way back on top, but Justin was a whirling mass of passion that Brian couldn’t quite control at this point.

“Brian. Brian. Brian,” Justin was chanting as Brian’s hands moved skillfully over every centimeter of the pale yet sparkling skin.

With a herculean effort, Brian wrapped his arms around Justin’s back and threw them both over so that he was once again hovering over the younger man. Justin pushed at Brian’s shirt, trying to get it off without dislodging Brian’s lips which were currently sucking along his lower rib cage, leaving love bites wherever he could. It seemed like an impossible feat, but somehow the shirt and both men’s pants seemed to melt away after that - it was probably some kind of Christmas Miracle. As soon as they were completely bare, both men reveling in the feeling of their hard cocks straining and vibrating against each other, Justin again overturned everything, and somehow managed to flip the world so that he was again perched on top of Brian.

“I’ve got one more present for you,” Justin confided, leaning down to drip the words deliciously into Brian’s ear. “I’m going to make you cum so hard you’ll be singing the Hallelujah Chorus by the time I’m done with you, Stud.”

“Justin . . . “ Brian wasn’t sure exactly what his twinkie lover meant at first, until he saw the sweet, innocent little blond boy, pulling open a condom packet and rolling it down his own, thick, plum-colored cock. “If you think you’re getting anywhere near my ass with that, Sunshine, you are gravely mistaken. I’m the top here. I don’t bottom. . . “

“Of course you don’t, Brian. You are the consummate top. The ultimate Stud. You are the manliest, most dominate, most masculine man on the entire East Coast. No one would ever dare to say differently. But, nevertheless, you are going to just love this present . . .” Justin simpered as he squirted out a handful of lube into the palm of his hand and rapidly deployed two slick fingers into Brian’s unready hole before the older man could do anything.

Brian gasped at the unexpected intrusion. His brain was protesting violently at Justin taking such unforgivable liberties but his body betrayed him as his cock got immediately so hard it felt like it was about to explode and his back arched up involuntarily so that the questing digits would penetrate deeper. Justin’s fingers probed and twined around, stretching the constricting muscles and brushing against that secret spot inside that Brian rarely let anyone near. Brian hated to lose control in any aspect of his life - sexually, emotionally, physically, or any other way - which is why he rarely let anyone top him. But, for some reason, this one time, he didn’t have the strength to stop this small blond boy toy from having his way. Brian’s brain was lustily overruled by his body and he simply laid there and let the blond do whatever he wanted.

Justin knew he had to press his advantage. Mere moments later, he withdrew his fingers and already had his dick positioned for entry into Brian’s tight mahogany knot before Brian had gathered the wherewithal to object. Pinning Brian’s well-formed biceps to the carpet on either side of the Christmas tree stand and pushing his thighs wider, Justin slowly thrust inside the confining tunnel while Brian panted and groaned.

“Shit! You’re so fucking tight, Brian,” Justin murmured as his cock sank deeper and deeper into the velvety depths.

Brian was gasping for breath and mewling at the combined pleasure and pain. “Of course I’m fucking tight. I told you. I’m a top!” Brian managed to grunt out between breathless gasps.

“I can fix that,” Justin growled as he pistoned into Brian’s body again.*****

“Uhhhhh,” was the only response Brian managed as his hips arched up so that all of Justin’s thick throbbing cock was firmly embedded inside him.

Justin slowly rocked in and out, angling himself so that he pulled even more moans out of the contorting body beneath him. With every thrust, the younger man’s supple skin caressed Brian’s cock, trapped between their bodies. Justin’s deceptively slender yet strong hands held Brian’s hips still so that he could have his way. Brian was wholly at Justin’s mercy and his body thrummed with the ecstasy of the experience. The sparks of their joining arced along his nerve endings, igniting little fires throughout Brian’s core, the tide of erotic energy building incrementally with every one of Justin’s movements. It seemed to last forever and yet it was unbearably drawn out at the same time. Brian could hear himself begging for release even though he didn’t have any idea what he might be saying.

Slowly, Justin increased his tempo as his own climax neared. Both men were now covered with a sheen of sweat that added to the sparkle from the glitter that was glinting off every inch of their skin. Brian’s vision had gone hazy, he now saw only dazzling, bright streaks of pale perfection flittering through his line of sight, occasionally alternating with flashes of deep fir green branches. The light show flashed by more and more quickly as his body began to catch on fire. And then, with one last massive, pounding drive, Brian’s orgasm erupted, his body convulsed and the brilliant lights swirled and flowed and crashed down around Justin’s shoulders until everything was once again blanketed by darkness.

The sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears deafened Brian for several moments afterwards. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breath. He couldn’t do anything. All he could do was lie there and pulse along with his thudding heart for what seemed like hours. When the pounding had finally dulled to a distant drumbeat, Brian realized that Justin was calling his name.

“Brian? Brian, are you okay. Let me *grunt* get this fucking tree *urggghh* off of you . . . There. *whoooo* Brian?”

“Halle - fucking - lujah,” Brian eventually gasped when the world had stopped spinning and the Christmas tree had been removed from where it had once again toppled over.

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***** Scene inspired by the story 'Madrid Interlude,' by Thyme. Great  toppy!Justin scenes! Story link: http://www.mags-nificent.com/MSW/Challenge/Quoin/Madrid.htm

Chapter 24 - Unguarded.

“So Sunshine,” Brian asked conversationally as he and Justin lay twined together on the carpet next to the fallen Christmas tree. “Want to come to Pittsburgh with me for a wedding on New Year’s Eve?”

“Huh?’ Justin asked, ever the eloquent one.

“You. Me. Glamourous Pittsburgh on New Year’s Eve?” Brian asked again, trying to keep the concept simple this time. “Am I using particularly difficult words here or something, Sunshine?”

“No. . . But, uh . . . I just wasn’t expecting . . . “

“That call I got before,” Brian decided he’d better explain further before the nervous blond backed out completely, “was from Debbie - the woman who, for all intents and purposes, was my mother from the time I was about fourteen. She’s getting married on New Year’s Eve. I have to be there and do the loyal son thing, and . . . well . . . I thought maybe you might be willing to come along and give me a good excuse to not spend an inordinate amount of time with my crazy family.”

“I’m not sure, Brian,” Justin seemed rather uncomfortable with this topic. “I was supposed to work on New Year’s Day and . . . I don’t know your family at all . . . “

Both men fell quiet. Brian was at a loss for words. He couldn’t believe that Justin was rejecting him. He’d never been in this situation before, so he didn’t know what to expect, but he hadn’t expected . . . whatever just happened. After the fun-filled weekend Brian had spent with Justin and Gus and then the past two days of bliss, Brian had felt so sure of himself.

He had never spent so much time with one guy before. He’d rarely even spent more than a single night with any one guy in the past. The fact that he and Justin had been together almost nonstop for the past five days was, in itself, beyond compare. Brian had never felt this open and unguarded with anyone before. Shit - he’d just finished letting this little blond twink actually top him! Brian had admittedly been a bit caught up in the emotional high of the experience when he’d blurted out the invitation to Justin to accompany him to Pittsburgh, but even then, he hadn’t expected Justin to react so indecisively. Brian had thought that Justin . . . well, that Justin felt something for him, even if Brian wasn’t sure what that something was.

“Fine. Whatever,” Brian shook his head and started to pull his arm out from under Justin’s head.

Justin could hear the undertone of hurt feelings at the same time as he felt Brian physically withdrawing from him. It wasn’t a good feeling. Justin had been enjoying the easygoing, comfortable rapport they had going. It was nice in a casual, unpressured kind of way. Not to mention that the sex with Brian was absolutely fantastic. But, Justin still wasn’t sure that he wanted anything more with Brian Kinney. Well, at least not with the Brian Kinney he thought he knew. Although, the longer he was around Brian, the less Justin thought he understood the man.

Justin absolutely didn’t want any part of the love ‘em and leave ‘em, heartless lothario he’d seen when Brian had first moved into the apartment. The man who hadn’t cared a whit about kicking someone out of their home. The man who racked up sexual encounters with the same lack of emotion he would have if they were mere poker chips. The loner who didn’t give a shit about his family and friends. Justin wanted nothing to do with that man.

On top of everything else, Justin had just escaped from one unsatisfactory relationship with Connor. He was only just realizing, now that Connor was gone, precisely how unsatisfying that connection had been. Connor had been so fake, so pretentious, and so controlling. Justin was rather enjoying being free from the constraints involved in a relationship for a change. Why would he give up that freedom just to fall into another connection with Brian - a man who, what with his fixation on neatness and perfection, seemed even more controlling than Connor.

And yet . . . Justin was starting to wonder if he hadn’t yet seen the real Brian Kinney. He’d had glimpses of the man he thought was hiding somewhere inside that gruff, self-assured exterior when he’d seen Brian interacting with his son. Brian Kinney, the indulgent father, was a completely different creature than the man who’d first barged his way into this apartment less than two months before. When Brian was with Gus there was a softness to him, a gentleness and sense of peace, that was entirely captivating. There were echoes of that caring, generous man present when they’d fucked. If only the real Brian Kinney would please stand up.

While all these thoughts were going through Justin’s mind, Brian was fighting a battle with himself. He could feel the sarcastic asshole everyone back in Pittsburgh knew - Brian ‘Fucking’ Kinney - trying to reassert his presence. It had always been his first mode of defense. ‘Don’t get hurt - hurt somebody else first - and then retreat as fast as possible’, had always been his primary means of defense. So, when his first foray into caring in a long, long while seemed to be ending in outright rejection, that was Brian’s immediate first response.

However, as Brian was trying to unwrap himself from Justin’s warm body, ready to retreat in order to save himself from any possible rejection, he accidentally knocked against the wonky tree again. The jolt caused a hail of glitter to shake loose and one of the gingerbread men ornaments that Justin and Gus had decorated came free, falling from it’s tentative perch on a branch above and landing with an inconsequential thunk against Brian’s shoulder. It was an instant reminder of all the fun he’d had with Gus the past weekend. The outings, doing crafts, experiencing the pure, unadulterated joyousness of spending Christmas-time with his son. All that fun had been a direct consequence of having Justin in his life now. And, for the life of him, Brian couldn’t bear going back to being that lonely, cynical asshole again.

*****Brian had been a different person since he’d moved here to New York. For the very first time in his life, he hadn’t felt constrained by the expectations of his friends and family. Here, he didn’t have any reputation that he had to maintain. None of the anachronistic rules he’d surrounded himself with for years existed here. He didn’t have to be the carefree, rebellious club boy that his friends used to vicariously spice up their own humdrum lives. He didn’t have to be the ruthless top who fucked around without caring who his tricks were and who never did the same guy twice out of fear of forming some unwarranted commitment. His abusive father was dead and his cold-hearted mother who abhorred him was far, far away and neither could touch him or hurt him here. There were no more reasons to keep up his defensive walls, if he didn’t want them in place anymore.

In this new place - this new town, new home, new life - Brian was finally free to remake himself in whatever image he wanted. No one knew him here. Nobody cared who Brian Kinney was or who he had been before. There wasn’t anybody here who could judge him by his past. There were no more rules - not if he didn’t want to have them. Brian could be whomever he wanted to be for the first time in his long, fucked up life.

Suddenly, Brian understood. He could be a wholly new man here in New York. Nobody expected anything from him. If he wanted to be a caring, indulgent father to Gus, nobody would know it was out of character. No one would use any of the drivel he’d spouted for years against him saying, ‘But, Brian, you always said . . . ’  He could be a shy, nerdy hermit if he wanted. He could be a doting, dickwhipped, lesbionic dweeb - okay, maybe that was pushing things, but the point was there wasn’t anybody who would give a crap if he was. He could stay in every night and read poetry if he wanted. Who would know or care? He didn’t have to be the Stud of Liberty Avenue. He didn’t HAVE to be anyone.

Which was the most frightening thought he’d ever had! If there were no more constraints put on him - if Brian Kinney didn’t have to be ‘Brian Fucking Kinney’ anymore - then who the fuck was he? He had no one to please but himself. So, exactly who was it that he wanted to be now?  

Brian stopped moving halfway through pulling his arm out from under Justin. The older man seemed frozen in place for about a minute and a half. Justin looked up curiously when his lover suddenly stopped and was amazed at the panoply of emotions that he saw washing over Brian’s countenance.

“Brian?” Justin wasn’t sure what he was asking, just that he wasn’t comfortable with Brian’s silence and stillness on top of the lingering hurt he sensed.

Brian fell backward, collapsing again under the tree. He looked over at the slightly-built young man that he was still holding in his arms. He had no one to please but himself, right? And it would please him immensely to keep this beautiful, sweet, caring blond boy in his arms and near to him. So, what did he have to do to accomplish that? All he had to do was open himself up to another man and let Justin know exactly how much he enjoyed their time together. Of course, that would set him up for possible pain, hurt feelings and crushing rejection. It might also set him up to be in a caring, loving, adult relationship. It wasn’t at all what Brian ‘Fucking’ Kinney would do. So . . . maybe it was just what the new Brian needed?

“Justin,” Brian thought of what the old ‘Asshole Brian’ would have said and then forced himself to say the exact opposite. “Please . . . I would really like to have you there with me. I’d like to see where this whole thing goes. I admit I have absolutely no experience whatsoever in dealing with relationships, but I’d like to try . . . maybe . . . with you. I’d like to share more time with you and Gus together. And . . . I’d like to take you to Pittsburgh, introduce you to my family and watch their mouths drop open in utter surprise when I tell them I’ve brought my ‘boyfriend’ with me.”  

“So, you’re just asking me to come with you to shock your family?” Justin wasn’t exactly thrilled by that idea.

“No, Justin. I want you to come with me because I like being with you. Shocking my family will just be an added bonus,” Brian teased with a mischievous grin.

“Brian, I don’t know . . ." Justin wanted to protest, but his objections died out when he looked into Brian’s eyes and saw the open look of raw fear there. Justin knew that this wasn’t something Brian Kinney did on a regular basis - taking someone home with him to meet his family and friends, talking openly about how another person made him feel, using words like ‘boyfriend’ and ‘relationship’. None of these were things that a man like Brian did. Justin had always thought Brian was that guy - the shallow, uncaring asshole that didn’t let himself feel, or at the very least, who didn’t let himself acknowledge any feelings. But, that guy didn’t seem like the guy lying next to him.

“Are you sure that’s what you really want, Brian?” Justin asked warily.  “I mean, we could just chalk this all up to too much pot and move on. You told me right from the start that there could never be anything more - that you didn’t want more. I didn’t expect anything more . . .”

“I didn’t expect to want more either,” Brian confessed, unconsciously pulling Justin’s body closer to his own as he spoke. “I thought I was perfectly happy with my life. I thought . . . Well, I thought a lot of stupid shit, I guess, but it looks like it was all just a load of crap . . . This was the best Christmas I’ve ever had in my whole fucking life, Sunshine. I usually just try and hide out till it’s over, but somehow you made it . . . wonderful. And I . . . well, I just thought maybe we could . . .”

Brian’s voice died out - he simply couldn’t find the words to explain all these alien emotions he found himself at the mercy of. He’d always been bad with words, except for the type of one-liners he used for work. Brian found it easier to show than to tell. So, he did what he usually did when words failed him and let his actions speak for him.

Propping himself up on his elbow, Brian made sure he had Justin's full attention before slowly lowering himself until their lips lightly brushed against each other. He felt rather than heard Justin's long sigh at the barely there pressure between their mouths. Brian's gaze remained locked on the crystal blue eyes glinting in the reflected glow of the twinkle lights from the fallen tree. He saw his own uncertainty mirrored in those eyes, along with an equal amount of lust, and just a hint of maybe something more - some unnamed connection that Brian wanted more than anything he'd ever known. He couldn't have held back the nascent smile he felt breaking out at the moment he recognized that Justin felt the exact same longings he was harboring. Brian didn't even try to hide the happy, boyish grin that not only adorned his face but went all the way to his own sparkling eyes.

“So, come on, Sunshine," Brian whispered with a playfulness he hadn't felt in years, if ever. "Let me show you off a bit and wow them. You know you want to say yes. You know you can't turn me down. Not after I just let you top me. That would be just too cruel. I might end up being so traumatized that I don't let anybody near my ass for another fifteen years."

Justin found that he was a total pushover for the teasing enticement he heard in Brian's tone, not to mention the glint of silliness that shone out of the beautiful hazel eyes. He still wasn't one hundred percent sure about Brian Kinney. But, this playful, tender man certainly wasn't the heartless sexual predator that had scared Justin off in the first place. This person was really just a big kid that wanted nothing but a little fun and was almost as afraid of being hurt as Justin was himself. What the hell - Justin thought he might as well give this new Brian Kinney a chance.

"Well, we can't have that. Your ass is just too sweet to hide away again, Brian. And I wouldn't want to be the man responsible for causing you to deny yourself the pleasure of an occasional cock up there. I guess I have no choice," Justin tried to keep a serious expression on his face while he spoke but it was no use - his Sunshine smile broke out full blast as soon as he saw Brian's answering smile. "So, New Year's in Pittsburgh, huh? How exotic! My friends will be SOOOOO jealous. When do we leave?"

Brian's no-doubt witty rejoinder was interrupted when a fuzzy, happy, purring ball of grey fur hopped up on top of Brian's bare chest and started kneading the naked flesh. With a very loud 'Ooowwwww!', Brian jumped up, knocking the tree even further off its base as he frantically tried to dislodge the frightened cat clinging with every single claw to Brian's chest. Justin leapt to his lover's rescue and carefully pried away the claws. Brian was left mostly undmaged except for a lovely set of eight bright red puncture marks that adorned his otherwise perfect pecs.

"In case you didn't get the subtext there, Brian," Justin commented as soon as Brian's cussing quieted. "That was Winston's way of telling you that he'll be coming too. Merry Christmas, Brian!"

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*****This passage was inspired, in part, by another story I read recently. This author perfectly framed the way I see Brian reacting in this situation. I highly recommend that you check it out:

'Spin and Fall' by Conzieu

Chapter 25 - Home Sweet Home.

"Merrrrrooooooooowllll"

“Shit, Justin,” Brian complained for the thirtieth time. “Can’t you shut the furrball up? Does he have to make that weird wailing/growling noise every time you move his carrier? People are looking at us.”

“No, Brian, I can’t just shut him up,” Justin sniped back again, the stress of the flight combined with a grouchy companion and a nauseated cat causing him to lose any patience he might have left. “If I could shut him up don’t you think I would have done it about two hundred miles ago? Winston is obviously experiencing motion sickness. It happens to cats as well as people, you know. So, instead of complaining about it - AGAIN - why don’t you just shut the hell up, get us a taxi and get us out of the airport where I can let the cat out. That’s the only thing that’s going to shut him up at this point.”

Brian bit back the spiteful remark he was about to throw back at Justin and instead took action. He walked around the people standing in front of him in the taxi line and gave the Red Cap who was in charge a fifty dollar bill and a wink. Miraculously, when the next cab came, the guy waived Brian and Justin up from their place in line and put them in the taxi ahead of the rest of the grumbling peons who didn’t have the disposable income to bribe him. Brian smirked at Justin, who simply shook his head, and helped the cabbie load their small overnight bags into the trunk while Justin seated himself and the wailing Winston inside the cab.

Twenty minutes later the cab pulled up in front of an older brick building that looked like it was supposed to be a warehouse but was much too clean and had too nice of a front door to be housing anything but the up and coming yuppies of the city. Brian got out first and then courteously grabbed the pet carrier out of Justin’s hands before helping the younger man out as well. Winston wailed his usual complaint as the pet carrier swung pendulously from side to side causing Brian to shudder and shake his head.

“At the risk of having my head bit off, remind me again why I agreed to bring the fuzzball along on this little adventure,” Brian just had to rub it in.

“Because,” Justin answered, barely containing his contempt for the question he’d been asked too many times already on this trip. “As we already discussed about a million times, Daphne is snowboarding with Cassie’s family until Sunday so she couldn’t cat sit for me. You know this. Why are you asking me again.”

“Because I’m still in shock that you somehow managed to get me to agree to this farce,” Brian replied. “I’m still in shock that I asked YOU to come with me. I can’t believe I agreed to the fucking fuzzball. I must be completely dick-whipped. Maybe I’ve completely lost my mind. Or my dick. Do I look like I’m growing a pussy? I must be turning lezzy. I’ve got a fucking boyfriend and a CAT? What the hell happened to me? . . . “ The grousing continued in a low tone even after Brian had moved beyond Justin’s hearing - although Justin wasn’t angry anymore after he noted that Brian had called him his ‘boyfriend’.

“I told you, we could have asked Hector to cat sit for us,” Justin said with a bit of a mischievous grin as he hurried to catch up with Brian who was already fumbling with his key at the front door. “He would have been happy to watch Winston for us. Of course, the last time I had him house sit, the whole apartment smelled like a combination of dirty sweat socks and anchovies.”

“We could have just aired out the apartment when we got back,” Brian offered, now rethinking his decision about NOT allowing the infamous Hector into his home while he was gone.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Justin agreed amiably. “But, there was also the fact that, last time, when I got home, the sheets on my bed were sort of crusty and there was a pile of toenail clippings sitting on the night stand. Plus, you don’t want me to even get started on describing what I found in the refrigerator.”

Justin watched as his comments made the ‘neat-freak’ in Brian visibly cringe - that’s how he had won the argument the first time, too. “Fine. Whatever. Just remind me to change your seat for the flight home so that you and the cat are sitting at the other end of the plane from me.”

Brian’s cutting words were softened by his teasing smile as he finally got the door open and showed Justin inside. The proud host ushered his guest into the building and pulled open the gate on the elevator, carrying both bags in while Justin devoted himself to the cat. Hitting the button for the top floor, Brian turned to his companion with excitement at the prospect of sharing his loft with Justin. Which was surprising to Brian since it wasn’t like he’d never had guests here before. In fact, before he’d moved away from Pittsburgh, the loft had been a pretty busy place, seeing trick after trick come and then go. However, it was a rare occurrence for Brian to have an overnight guest. Even more so when the overnight guest was actually being explicitly invited to stay. This was pretty much a first for Brian and, although he didn’t want to admit it, he was nervous as hell about having Justin here - with or without his annoying fuzzball.

As soon as the door to the loft was closed behind them, Justin sat the pet carrier down and unlatched the door. Winston wobbled out displaying none of his usual feline grace. Justin wasn't sure how it was possible, but the grey cat somehow looked slightly green. The unhappy kitty gave both his people a withering, accusatory look before sitting himself down in the middle of the large expanse of hardwood floors and setting about cleaning himself from the grime of travel.

Brian shook his head in disbelief at the odd sight of a cat sitting in his sacred loft. Never in a million years would he have expected to see this. Then, Brian glanced over at the cat's gorgeous blond owner, who looked incredibly grateful to be finally freed from the burden of toting around a nauseated, wailing box full of grouchy kitty. Even tired from their early morning and rumpled after traveling, Justin still looked decadently appetizing. It reminded Brian instantly of exactly why he'd wanted Justin here with him - even if it meant suffering through the horrors of commercial air travel with a motion sick cat. The mere thought of Justin being here, with him, was enough to make it worth all the trouble.

Leaving cat and cat-person to sort themselves out, Brian took the bags straight up to the bedroom. He noted in passing that someone - probably Debbie - had recently been by to freshen up the place, dust and vacuum. He peeked into the bathroom and was glad to see that the cat litter pan he'd asked Emmett to pick up for him was already set up in the corner. Since they'd only be here a couple of days, it should be fine - they didn't need the same elaborate LitterMaid system Brian had installed back in the New York apartment. Altogether, it looked like everything was in place for both his guests. He was again thankful that the new renters wouldn't be moving into the loft until January 30th, allowing Brian and company to have a comfortable, familiar place to stay while they were back in the Pitts.

“Nice place. I like your kitchen,” Justin complimented as soon as Brian came back into the main room.

“It does the trick,” Brian replied with his standard catch phrase for deflecting compliments before he even thought about how his words would sound.

“Yeah, I’m sure it does,” Justin responded without any enthusiasm, turning away from Brian and walking off towards the big wall of windows dispiritedly.

Brian realized his gaffe as soon as he saw Justin’s shoulders slump. Since the two of them had spent their whirlwind weekend together and then Christmas, there actually hadn’t been any tricks. There hadn’t been any need. Brian and Justin had been so wrapped up in each other, Brian hadn’t made it out of the apartment most nights. However, after his Christmas Day epiphany, when he realized he truly wanted to pursue something more with Justin, Brian had consciously tried to be more attentive. Even though it wasn’t something he’d had much experience with, he was learning to read Justin’s moods a little bit better. That was probably why he caught on so quickly to the way Justin reacted to his little quip about ‘tricks’.

Brian caught up with Justin in two large strides, grabbed the retreating man’s elbow and managed to twirl Justin around and into his arms in one fluid motion.

“Strike that, Sunshine. What I meant to say was that it USED to do the trick. Of course, these days, your ass is the only one that’s getting treated,” Brian replied, letting his hidden, ridiculously romantic side have full reign over his vocabulary. “Which is why I don’t need this loft anymore. And it’s why I’m renting this place out and living in a tiny shit hole apartment in New York with you.”

"It's not a shit hole. Daphne says its a palace. Especially for Soho," Justin protested even as he pulled back to avoid being kissed into submission by Brian.

"Trust me, Sunshine, it's a shit hole. Not that I'm complaining, mind you," Brian asserted and backed his words up with a solid, aggressive kiss on Justin's nice plump coral-pink lips. “When the ad said ‘furnished apartment’, I didn’t think those furnishings would include such a hot little twink lover as well. That alone makes the tiny shit hole more than worth it.”

“Why, Mr. Kinney, you do say the sweetest things,” Justin gave in to the over-the-top flattery and kissed Brian back to show his appreciation.

“Yep. That’s me - ‘sweet’!” Brian laughed at himself and his silly saccharine endearment. “In fact, that’s the first word that comes to everybody’s mind as soon as they see me - ‘sweet’. You have no idea how often I’ve heard that,” Brian continued, chuckling at the very idea of Mel saying anything at all like that about him.

“I kind of like the idea that I’m the only one who gets to see ‘sweet’ Brian Kinney,” Justin asserted, wrapping his arms more tightly around the taller man’s solid frame, and pushing up to his tip toes so he could enjoy more of those sweet Kinney lips.

“Only you,” Brian whispered against Justin’s perfectly pert lips, thrilling to the sensation of warmth pressing so tenderly against his own mouth.

Just as the kiss was starting to get deeper and more intense, the couple was interrupted by the loft’s intercom buzzing to indicate someone was down at the front door.

“Hey, Brian. It’s Ted,” crackled the familiar voice through the little speaker when Brian reluctantly let go of Justin and went to answer the summons. “I was delegated to be your official chauffeur for the day.”

“Come on up, Theodore,” Brian found that he was actually excited to hear his old friend’s voice and instantly pushed the door release button. “Ready to meet the first of the firing squad, Sunshine?”

Brian had used the plane ride to PA to try to prepare Justin for the odd panoply of friends that made up Brian’s little make-shift family. But, no matter what, no mere words could prepare someone for the reality of this unique group. Brian was thankful that it was Ted that was picking them up - he would be the least traumatic one to start off the introductions with. Brian was even pretty sure that Ted wouldn’t throw a complete fit when Brian tried out the word ‘boyfriend’ for the first time when he presented Justin.  Nevertheless, Justin could feel the new tension that rolled off the older man’s body as they both walked together over towards the door.

Brian slid the large metal loft door open before the clackety old elevator made it to the top floor. He was leaning against the doorframe, Justin resting his back against Brian’s chest with the larger man’s arms wrapped around to steady them both. It was that comfortable, intimate pose that was the first thing to meet Ted’s eyes when the elevator gate opened. Which probably explained the look of obvious shock on the accountant’s face as soon as he emerged from the elevator.

“Brian?”

“Are you asking because you don’t recognize me?” Brian teased. “I’m sure that my appearance hasn’t changed that much in the two months I’ve been gone, Theodore.”

“Uh, no . . . I just didn’t know you’d be . . . entertaining . . . this early in the day, Bri. Hope I’m not interrupting,” Ted nervously replied, not sure what to make of the young blond that Brian was holding so possessively. “You . . . um . . . almost done? We’ve got to go pretty soon. Debbie threatened to castrate me if I didn’t get you to the ceremony on time. She said you can’t come fashionably late to a wedding.”

“Theodore Schmidt, this is Justin Taylor,” Brian said without changing his pose at all. “Justin, this is Ted, accountant, thirty-four, dresses in the most boring clothing imaginable, but has a respectable seven plus inches between his thighs and isn’t a bad friend. Ted, this is my boyfriend, Justin. He’s my ‘plus one’ for the weekend. Now, if you can manage to pull yourself together and stop gaping at us like a freshly hooked trout, we’ll get dressed and get out of here.”

When Ted seemed incapable of responding or even moving, Justin stepped forward, disengaging from Brian’s arms, and held out his hand in greeting to the stunned visitor. “Nice to meet you, Ted. Come on inside. We just got here - the flight was a little bit delayed - so we haven’t had a chance to unpack or get dressed.”

“I didn’t think the ceremony was until 1:00 pm,” Brian added as he physically scooped Ted inside the loft and closed the door behind the still blinking man. “We’ve got tons of time. Besides, I want a shower beforehand. You can join me, Sunshine, and help me wash my back.”

“Sounds good, Brian. Just let me put out some food and water for Winston first. After all that complaining he did on the flight, he’s probably really thirsty.” Justin said as he walked towards the kitchen and searched through the cupboard for two small bowls, then fished out a baggie of cat food from the pocket of the pet carry-on bag that had been waiting on the kitchen island.

The aroma of his food caused Winston to instantly appear, as if by magic, his furry body affectionately winding around Brian’s ankles. As if Ted hadn’t been thoroughly shocked enough by the announcement that Brian had brought a *gasp* boyfriend with him to Debbie’s wedding, now there was what appeared to be a pet cat in the loft. Ted wasn’t sure but thought for a moment that maybe he might be hallucinating.

“No, you’re NOT seeing things, Theodore,” Brian chuckled as he bent down to pick up the fuzzy creature. “This is our cat, Winston. And, before you ask, yes, Justin and I are living together and we’ve only been dating for about a month now. I don’t intend to discuss it any further. You and everyone else will just have to deal with the impossibility of the Brian Kinney you used to know being in a long-term committed relationship and owning a pet cat. Now, come on, Sunshine, we’d better get started on that shower if we want to get to this wedding on time.”

Brian gently set Winston down on the counter next to where Justin had set out the food and water and then grabbed Justin’s hand to lead the boy away towards the bathroom. Ted was still standing in the same spot, staring at the cat as if it alone was responsible for this miracle. Winston didn’t give the strange person any attention at all - he was too busy with his food and then had plans to do a comprehensive sweep of his new living space to determine if it was up to his very particular kitty specifications.

Ted backed slowly away from the disturbing sight in Brian’s kitchen. He felt strangely dizzy and really needed to sit down. Without turning his back on the little furry beast still crouched on the top of the kitchen island, Ted inched toward the sitting area until he felt a chair hit the back of his calves. He promptly sat while his brain tried frantically to catch up with what his eyes had seen.

Brian Kinney . . . announcing he had a live-in boyfriend, a pet cat and that he was ‘dating’. The only thing that might make it even more ludicrous was if Brain announced that he’d become monogamous. However, there didn’t appear to be any flying pigs outside the loft windows. As far as Ted was aware, the world hadn’t come to an end this morning. He hadn’t had time to check the news to see if there was a zombie apocalypse starting, but that seemed unlikely. He might be still asleep and dreaming all this, but if so it was the most realistic dream Ted had ever had. But, what other possible explanations were there? He’d known Brian going on ten years now and this couldn’t be real. Not after only two months. Not the Brian Kinney he knew. Maybe Ted had been lost in a time warp or something and it was really ten years later. Maybe he’d fallen through a wormhole into an alternate universe. Yeah, that seemed like the most probable explanation.

Ted decided to go with the wormhole theory. And, when the cat jumped up into his lap, hunkered down on it’s haunches and glared into his eyes with those bright green orbs, Ted just started laughing hysterically. Definitely . . . had to be an alternate universe!

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

More than an hour later - Brian and Justin’s shower had taken a rather long time, after all - Ted pulled his Accura up in front of Mel & Lindsey’s house and let Brian and his ‘boyfriend’ out of the car before he drove off to park. Ted didn’t want to be in the house when these two made their entrance. He was still not dealing with the shock very well himself and didn’t want to get caught up in the drama that he knew would take over as soon as they appeared.

The block was lined with cars. Brian and Justin had to work towards the door along with a horde of others, all headed towards a wonderfully decorated, Christmasy house. The picket fence had been adorned with swags of evergreens, bright red bows and twinkling lights that, although it was still the middle of the afternoon, shone fairly brightly in the overcast day. Brian had thought that the affair was going to be small and sedate - especially since there had only been a week’s notice - but he’d underestimated Debbie’s standing in Liberty Avenue’s Society.

Every queen, queer or lezzie that had ever set foot in the Diner appeared to have been invited. In front of Brian and Justin there was a rather gaudily dressed drag queen being escorted by a big, heavily muscled leather daddy - complete with leather bow tie around his twenty inch bare neck. Behind them there was a couple of twinkies, one of which Brian was sure he’d seen hustling around the corner from Babylon off and on for the past six months. Coming down the street was a whole gaggle of Mel’s dyke friends. It was quite the turnout. Brian worried briefly about where they would put all these people inside the old victorian-era house.

Opening the door for guests and acting as the greeting committee, were the duo of Michael Novotny and Emmett Honeycutt. Emmett took everyone’s coats and then Michael would direct the newcomers inside with directions on where to find refreshments. The tall drag queen in her six inch heels standing in front of them partially blocked the view of Brian and Justin. So, it wasn’t until Emmett had complimented the lady’s dress and Michael had encouraged them to get a drink at the bar set up in the dining room area, that the two saw Brian.

“Brian! You’re here and you’re actually on time! This has to be a first!” gushed Emmett as he unabashedly reached over to hug the returning prodigal.

Brian bore the unwelcomed hug with admirable restraint, while watching Michael’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. “Honeycutt. I see you haven’t lost any of your exuberance in the two months I’ve been gone.”

“Never, Sweetie!” Emmett exclaimed with his usual gap-toothed southern smile. “And, don’t call me Honeycutt, you asshole!”

Taking the initiative, Brian immediately turned towards his young, blond companion and took Justin’s hand in his own. “Emmett, Mikey, I’d like you to both meet my boyfriend, Justin Taylor. Justin, the tall flaming queen with the questionable fashion sense here is Emmett Honeycutt and the short, scowling, boy-next-door-type glaring at us is my oldest friend, Michael Novotny. Now, did I hear something about an open bar?”

Before either of the greeters could say a word, Brian pressed his way between the two gaping men, pulling a grinning Justin after him. Justin couldn’t resist the temptation to smile impishly and wave his fingers at the confused pair as Brian towed him away. Shocking Brian’s family like this was quite fun, actually. He hadn’t really believed Brian when the man had told him that his family was likely to be overwhelmed by his announcement that he’d brought a ‘boyfriend’ with him to the wedding. It looked like, if anything, Brian had underestimated the reaction he would receive. Both Emmett and Michael were still just standing there by the open door, both their mouths hanging open, as they watched Brian and Justin disappear amid the crowd of people gathered in the living room.

Emmett was the first to get himself back under control enough to greet the pair of twinks that had been waiting behind Brian and Justin. The ceremony was due to start in about fifteen minutes and there was too much to be done to dwell on the alien being masquerading as Brian Kinney. Emmett only had to remind himself that he was a professional party planner, this was his gig and whatever strange antics the party guests got up to simply had to be ignored or dealt with. He didn’t have time to worry about bizarre occurrences like Brian Kinney saying he had a boyfriend.

Michael, on the other hand, just stood there, ignoring the rest of the guests and watching the spot where someone who looked like his best friend had just vanished. He thought he’d heard the Brian clone use the word ‘boyfriend’ in reference to the blond twink. That couldn’t have really happened, could it? Maybe he’d been seeing things. Maybe it hadn’t really been Brian at all - just someone that looked a lot like him. That was probably it. Brian was still in New York and that guy who just came in was someone else completely who sort of looked and sounded like Brian. Although, it sure had looked a lot like Brian. And, it had sounded like Brian. And, it had known his name and Emmett’s name. What the fuck was going on here?

Michael was still virtually catatonic when the crowd at the door started to thin out a few minutes later. Ted had finally found a parking spot about three blocks away and was one of the last to trickle through the door. He was actually a bit hesitant to come inside, expecting that Brian’s entrance might have caused some huge dramatic scene. But, when he reached the door and all looked normal, Ted nervously followed in the last of the guests.

“Teddy! There you are!” Emmett crowed as soon as he saw his friend come through the doorway. “What the hell did you bring us? You were supposed to pick up Brian Kinney. Instead we got some Brian pod person who introduced us to some delectable little blond twink as his ‘boyfriend’? I almost had a stroke right there and then. You have to tell us what the hell is going on. Actually, you should have called ahead to warn us. Michael here appears to be in shock.”

Emmett might have gone on and on in the same vein, his astonishment taking over his control of his tongue, if he hadn’t been pulled away by the caterer who needed to clarify something right at that moment. Ted moved over to stand next to Michael and they both just stared at the spot where the crowd had parted to reveal a vision of Brian holding hands with the little blond while the couple talked to Backroom Todd and his date. The scene was surreal. Ted was again convinced of his wormhole theory. Michael, who was much more volatile and less imaginative, simply started to get angry.

“Who is that stupid blond twink? What the hell does he think he’s doing here with Brian,” Michael finally found his voice about the same time that Emmett and his assistants were trying to corral the guests out of the aisle where the wedding party would enter and away from the little raised dais that had been set up next to the Christmas Tree for the ceremony itself.

Even with all the chaotic noise caused by the milling throngs of people and the politely shouted directions from Emmett, you could still hear Michael’s higher-pitched, overly-loud, complaining voice, as the outraged son of the bride moved to confront his former best friend. “What the fuck is going on, Brian? You think this is funny? Is this just some joke to you? Are you trying to fuck up Ma’s wedding by shocking everybody? Even for you, Brian, that’s fucking low. I don’t find it funny at all. But, whatever! You’ve made your point. Time to tell your trick to leave so we can get on with things.”

Michael’s tirade got the crowd’s attention much faster than Emmett’s polite attempts. Everyone turned, almost as one, and focused in on the dissonance between Brian and Michael. “Wow, Mikey,” Brian responded with angry sarcasm. “You held off with your tantrum for more than five minutes. I’m impressed. But, Justin is NOT a trick, Mikey, so I’m not going to ask him to leave. And, if anyone is likely to fuck up your mother’s wedding with some ridiculous scene, it’s you.”

“Michael, this really isn’t the time . . .” Ted pulled at his friend’s elbow, trying to ease him away from the dispute.

Emmett saw that Ted had Michael in hand, and took his chance to further diffuse the situation by announcing that the ceremony would be starting soon. The rest of the ushers and party crew started courteously directing the guests back towards the walls of the room, where all the furniture had been removed, so that there were clear areas that would allow the wedding party to enter the room. Brian and Justin followed along with the rest of the herd and moved to one side of the room. The judge friend of Carl’s who was going to officiate, moved towards the dais to take his spot. Everything else seemed to be in place - the tree was beautifully decorated in red and gold, there was red ribbon-trimmed greenery everywhere and the whole house smelled of fresh pine.

None of that seemed to matter to Michael, though. If anything, it gave his unreasoning anger more space in which to rage. Brian and that irritating blond trick were still there, standing at the edge of the crowd near one aisle. Michael was simply NOT going to stand for this. It was insulting. It was just another way for Brian to fuck with everyone’s minds. His lingering anger at Brian, from the unresolved argument they’d never finished before Brian moved away, reached critical mass again and Michael wasn’t about to let the asshole get away with anything more.

While everyone else’s attention was directed towards Emmett and the ushers, Michael broke away from the tentative hold Ted had on his arm, and marched across the room to where Brian and Justin were standing together. Michael grabbed hold of the young blond’s wrist with a pincer-like grasp and tugged the unprepared boy towards the door. Justin was pulled off balance by Michael’s unexpected actions and tripped over the foot of the guest standing next to him then proceeded to fall sideways. If it weren’t for the tall drag queen, who caught Justin in her strong arms, Justin would have done a rather spectacular face plant into the carpet.

“What the fuck is your problem, Michael?” Brian erupted, reaching out to pull Justin safely back onto his feet.

“It’s time for your trick to leave, Brian. I can’t believe even YOU would bring a fuck to Ma’s wedding. Everyone knows you’re an asshole, but this is just too fucking much. I’m not going to just sit here and let you ruin everything. The blond needs to leave NOW!” Michael insisted at full volume, causing every single set of eyes in the entire room to focus on the three arguing men.

Ted and Emmett were both there in mere seconds, each gripping one of Michael’s arms and trying to ease him away from where Brian had taken up a defensive stand in front of Justin. “Fuck you, Novotny. I think it’s pretty clear who’s being the asshole here and it isn’t me,” Brian yelled back, just as loudly. “I told you, Justin is my ‘BOYFRIEND’. He’s here with me as my guest. He’s not some damn trick that you can just throw out. You need to fucking back off and, if you put your hands on him one more time, I’m going to forget we’ve been friends for more than half our lives and fucking deck you.”

“Ah . . . is there a problem here?” Lindsey asked in her most placating and serene voice as she came out of the kitchen and noticed the tense situation. “Brian, hello! I’m so glad you were able to make it. Why don’t you come stand up here closer to the front with me. Oh, and you brought Justin, too. Hello, Justin. Nice to see you again. Why don’t you guys come join me over here. Em, can you and Ted take Michael back to the guest room so he see if Carl needs anything. We should get started in just a minute or two.”

With Lindsey, Emmett and Ted all running interference, the confrontation was momentarily averted. Brian and Justin were led over to the left side of the room, where they could stand next to Mel behind the bride’s family. Ted and Emmett escorted a still fuming Michael out of the room, ostensibly to help Carl finish getting ready, but mostly just to get the irascible man out of sight until he could calm down. Lindsey hurried off to help Debbie with any final needs.

Thankfully, the argument was put on hold for the remainder of the formal services. Within just a few moments after Michael had been led away, the judge and Carl both came out and took their places in the front of the room. Michael and Carl’s son, Oliver, stood up behind the grey-haired detective as groomsmen. Next, Gus came hopping down the aisle, very proudly carrying the wedding rings on a tiny red and green pillow - when he saw his dad and Justin standing off to the side, he almost got distracted but then, at the last minute, remembered he was supposed to go stand next to Ted and Em.

Finally, the music changed and the bridesmaids came down the stairs. First was Lindsay, in a lovely, diaphanous little holly-leaf green dress. Next came Kiki, wearing what looked like a vintage prom dress, in a slightly different but complementary shade of green, that might have come right out of a Lucille Ball movie, but which was very flattering on her rather unique figure. The ladies positioned themselves to the left of where the judge was standing.

Then the music changed to the traditional wedding march and the beautifully radiant bride came slowly down the staircase. Debbie had probably never looked more beautiful in her entire life. She was wearing a brilliant, deep red and gold velvet dress that was absolutely perfect for her. And, between Mel and Lindz taking over her makeup and hair and Emmett’s dress selection, Debbie Novotny looked sexy as hell. Most of the guests had never seen her out of her signature snarky t-shirts and button covered vest, and were simply astounded at the transformation. The ‘ahhhhhs’ and ‘ohhhhs’ were almost deafening. Debbie glowed at the flattering praise that followed her as she walked towards Carl and the judge. Smiling at all the friends and family watching her, the beautiful bride stepped up onto the small dais and handed her red and white rose bouquet over to Kiki then turned to take Carl’s hands in her own.

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

Chapter 26 - Disbelief.

Thankfully, the rest of the marriage ceremony went off without a hitch. Brian was hopeful that Debbie was so caught up in the magic of the moment that she hadn’t noticed anything was wrong. The normally outspoken red-headed mother of all Pittsburgh gay boys was noticeably rather demure. Carl was beaming. Gus was adorable as the ring bearer. In fact, everything was perfect at least through the end of the actual ceremony.

As soon as the official wedding was through, Emmett hustled the happy couple out onto the front porch for a quick photo op - he’d insisted on this even though there was about four inches of snow on the ground and nobody really wanted to be out there just standing around while someone snapped photos. Meanwhile, inside, the small dais was whisked away and some chairs were brought back in while a huge amount of food was set forth on the dining room table that had been pushed back against the wall. Then, the piece de resistance - the beautiful cake that Vic had prepared - was brought out and set in a place of honor in the center of the room surrounded by candles and greenery. It was the most lovely scene. Perfect for a Christmas time wedding. Emmett was overjoyed at how beautiful everything looked. It was a total triumph!

Soon enough, Debbie and Carl came back inside, desperate to warm up and joyfully greeting all their guests. Brian held back from the melee swamping the newlyweds. Gus had managed to worm his way through the crowd as soon as his ring bearer duties were completed, so both Brian and Justin were busy with the child and not really paying attention to what else was going on. Which is why Michael’s approach went unheeded.

“Time’s up, Brian. You and your trick should say goodbye to Ma and get the fuck out of here!” Michael hissed at Brian as soon as he was close enough.

Brian instinctively turned so that Gus, who was in Brian’s arms at this point, was shielded from Michael by his own body. Justin also moved in to provide an additional physical barrier between the angry little man and the child. Michael was visibly seething with anger. He didn’t even seem to notice the child that was nearby and didn’t control his language at all.

“Back the fuck off, Michael,” Brian hissed menacingly. “Deb invited me herself. I have every right to be here and I’m not leaving just because you have your panties in a twist.”

“I don’t have my panties in a twist, Brian. I’m just sick of you flouting yourself in all of our faces. And, Ma might have invited you, but she certainly didn’t invite your little chicken whore here,” Michael spit back into his former friend’s face. The irate little man finally seemed to notice at this point that Brian was holding Gus, which seemed to anger him even more. “And I can’t believe you would dare to act like this around your son. You have a fucking lot of nerve, telling me I wouldn’t be a good parent when you can’t even keep it in your pants with your kid around. You are pathetic, to use your own favorite phrase. . . “

Michael showed every intention of continuing with his diatribe, but his derogatory comments about Brian’s parenting skills finally hit a nerve in the blond youth who’d been trying to maintain a low profile up till now. Justin didn’t care what the hell these people thought about him. He knew that springing his presence on Brian’s family out of the blue like this was likely to raise some controversy. He hadn’t expected them to call him a trick or speak about him with such disdain, but he figured that they didn’t know him yet and it would all eventually get straightened out. However, as good natured as Justin was, he wasn’t about to let anyone deride Brian in front of his son.

Justin had been watching Gus closely the entire time Brian and Michael were arguing. He was apparently the only one who saw how scared the disagreement was making the boy. Justin would NOT just stand by and let this cretin harass Brian or frighten Gus. No matter what the underlying argument was between these two, there was no way he’d let it impact the child. Justin no longer cared what the family would think about him - he wasn’t going to stand by and listen to any more of this slander.

Even though Justin was about six inches shorter than Brian, his personality was huge. So, it didn’t seem at all out of character to anyone watching, when Justin stepped in front of Brian and Gus and confronted Michael head-on. His slight 5’10” frame somehow seemed to dominate over a surprised Michael who was forced by Justin’s advance to take a step back.

“Brian told you to back off. I recommend that you do just that, buddy,” Justin said in a low menacing almost-growl that somehow seemed to carry despite the noisy chatter going on all around them.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do, you fucking little chicken,” Michael replied without thinking at all, disregarding not only the shocked look on Brian’s face, but also the whimper from Gus who was truly frightened by this unaccustomed behavior from his ‘Uncle Mikey’. “You’re the one who wasn’t invited. I think you need to leave now!”

Michael started to reach out to grab ahold of Justin’s shoulder, ostensibly so that he could guide the unwanted party crasher towards the door. However, Michael’s actions were inherently aggressive and to most of the observers watching it looked a lot like the shorter man was going to throw a punch at the blond youth. The onlookers all gasped in surprise. Brian’s first reaction was to pull back so that the child he held in his arms was protected.

Nobody expected Justin’s reaction at all. So far the blond had seemed very unprepossessing and quiet. He hadn’t said more than a dozen words to anyone at the gathering. He was small and slightly built and didn’t look at all like the type to stand up for himself, let alone champion others. However, instead of ducking the supposed punch, or cowering like most people expected, Justin stepped into the swing, using his hip and leg to trip up Michael’s advance. At the same time the small blond deftly brought up his left forearm in an outward sweeping motion that blocked Michael’s reach and threw the older man off balance. Then, in a lightening fast move that nobody expected, Justin followed up by driving his palm hard directly into the chin of the now off-balance Michael. Michael’s head flew backwards, followed by his body, and he staggered backwards with his arms flailing as the bystanders all rushed to move out of his way.

As a result, there was nothing standing between Michael and the small table where the beautiful wedding cake was standing on display. Michael’s momentum was too great to stop himself. With a piteous moan, Michael careened backwards and toppled onto the small table. The table broke immediately upon impact. Both the cake and Michael tumbled to the carpet in a crashing cakey mess. Justin stood above the prone Michael, ready with a follow up palm strike if the older brunet man should show signs of further aggression. It wasn’t at all necessary, though as Michael just lay there, a trickle of blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth from where he’d bit his tongue, as he wiped a large glob of cake icing off his cheek.

The entire room was drenched in immediate silence. Justin stood, poised above the Michael/Cake mess, clearly ready to take further action if needed. Brian, still holding Gus, was looking on from the edge of a large cleared space, his face showing a combination of admiration, anger and sheer hilarity. The rest of the guests ringing the spectacle were staring with varying looks of amusement and alarm. It was sort of like that moment of peaceful calm right in the eye of the hurricane - you knew that the quiet and calm wouldn’t last, but no one knew what to say or do other than stare and wait for the inevitable hullabaloo to descend.

The calm standoff seemed to last for hours with nobody moving or saying anything. Then a lone, lean figure of authority moved steadily into the circle of bystanders. Vic, carefully surveying the scene of his erstwhile masterpiece’s demise, shook his head slowly and then, with resignation, turned to the assembled hordes and announced, “Anybody want cake?”

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

"Shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck! I can't believe I did that. I ruined that beautiful cake. I ruined the whole damn wedding. Your family is going to hate me forever. Why the hell did I do that," Justin was rocking back and forth, berating himself, while Brian and Ted looked on, still amazed at what the seemingly mild-mannered and hardly threatening young man had done.

After Justin had gone all 'Kung Fu' on Michael's ass, the young artist, along with a still speechless Brian Kinney, had been quickly whisked off to recuperate in the small back guest bedroom. Meanwhile the mess was cleaned up and Michael was given first aid. Emmett tried his best to distract the rest of the guests while the caterers removed the detritus of the destroyed cake and peace was restored to the party as a whole. Ted came in to try to deal with the young hothead while Lindsey and Deb tried to placate the injured Michael in another room.

Altogether it was quite an exciting wedding and would long be remembered on Liberty Avenue.

"Justin . . . Sunshine, calm down," Brian demanded, finally getting tired of all the drama. "Michael fucking deserved what he got. He was being a complete asshole. If you hadn't hit him, and I hadn't been holding Gus, I probably would have hit him too. It'll be fine. Really. Just fucking quit freaking out, okay."

"I'm so sorry, Brian. I wasn't thinking. When that guy threatened you and Gus I just reacted without thinking at all. Shit. I'm never, ever, going to live this down, am I," Justin continued to bewail his poor first impression.

"It's really not your fault, Justin. I told you that my friends probably wouldn't be understanding about us. I didn't actually think anyone would physically attack you because of it, but I did try to warn you. And anyway, as far as I'm concerned, Michael was completely out of line and he deserved to get slugged for his behavior," Brian insisted, trying to calm Justin by rubbing comforting circles on his back as he hovered nervously over the worried young man.

"Those were some pretty fucking impressive moves, Justin," Ted commented as he watched the ongoing, incomprehensible interactions between the young blond and Brian. "Where the hell did you learn that kind of maneuver?"

"I've been doing Judo and Tae Kwon Do since I was a kid," Justin started to explain. "It's really the only sport I ever excelled at. See, I spent my entire kindergarten and half of first grade getting beat up by bullies at school. So my dad signed me up for martial arts classes at the local community center. It was great for my self esteem and I never got beat up again. In fact, I was the Pennsylvania State Champion for a year - in the seven to nine year old age group. But the downside is that, when I perceive a threat, my instincts take over and I react without thinking. I probably . . . well, not probably - I'm sure I completely over-reacted with your friend, Brian. I really wasn't thinking. It's just, when I saw him strike out like that I just . . . did what I do. I'm really sorry."

“Sorry is bullshit, Sunshine. Besides, Mikey was asking for it. If you hadn’t hit him, and if I didn’t have Gus, I probably would have,” Brian tried for the tenth time to reassure his date.

“You know I love a surprise as much as anyone, Bri, but in this case you probably shouldn’t have sprung your big news completely out of the blue like this. I mean, who could blame Michael for thinking . . . Sorry, Justin, it’s just that nobody in their right mind would expect Brian Kinney to show up with an actual date, let alone a boyfriend. Brian you had to expect Michael would be a little . . . thrown off,” Ted said, playing devil’s advocate. “And, no offense Justin, but it wouldn’t have been completely out of character for Brian to bring a trick in case he got bored at the wedding or something . . .”

“Fuck you, Schmidt. When have I EVER brought a trick to a family party? Especially when Gus was there. I can’t believe that any of you guys would think that little of me. Do any of you fucking even know me at all,” Brian sounded disgusted by the people he’d thought of for so long as his friends.

“Fine. You’re right, Brian. You wouldn’t bring a trick - You wouldn’t have to. If you got bored, you’d just fuck whatever guy you found here that you hadn’t already had before.” Ted teased with that familiar half-snarky, half-admiring tone he always used when he was trying to humor Brian.

Brian wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh at Ted’s remark or slap him. Either way, it wasn’t helping to reassure Justin. Brian didn’t get the chance to do anything to Ted, though. Right at that moment, the door to the small guest room where they had been hiding out was yanked open and a wrathful Debbie Novotny came in ready to chastise everyone at all involved in the Cake Destruction Fiasco.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing, Asshole?” Deb directed all her anger at the usual suspect - Brian Kinney. “Why the hell did you punch Michael and knock over my beautiful cake? Huh? Couldn’t you control yourself for just one afternoon, Brian? Vic worked so hard on that fucking thing and now it’s ruined and I didn’t even get to taste it. Go on. Speak up! What do you have to say for yourself, asshole?”

Brian just shook his head wondering why it was always assumed it was his fault whenever anything went wrong. But, before he could say a word to exonerate himself, Brian’s staunch little blond defender leapt to his feet and insinuated himself bodily between the still seated Brian and the huffing, puffing angry red-head who was menacing his man. Justin’s face was almost as red as Debbie’s. Deb, who hadn’t waited around long enough to get the full story about what happened with Michael and the Cake, and hadn’t yet been apprised of Brian’s big surprise, wasn’t prepared at all to be confronted by a small but irate young blond.

“Brian didn’t do anything at all. It was me who knocked Michael over,” Justin stated plainly, his voice controlled even if his emotions weren’t. “I’m sorry about your cake, ma’am. But Michael threw the first punch - well, I thought he was throwing a punch at the time, even though it seems like he was only going to grab me and not hit anybody . . . But that doesn’t matter. Brian didn’t do anything at all. He was just standing there holding Gus. Michael was the one saying nasty things and I wasn’t going to just stand there and let him talk like that to Brian in front of his son. I wasn’t going to let him put a hand on Brian or Gus either. I’m sorry that your cake got in the way, but I’m not in the least sorry for defending myself or Brian and Gus. So you, lady, need to just back off and stop yelling at Brian. If you want to yell at somebody, go bitch at that fucker, Michael, who started it all.”

Debbie wasn’t used to anyone talking back to her the way this young man had. She also wasn’t used to anyone telling off her son - other than herself, of course. And she was really disconcerted to be getting her ass handed to her by some little blond boy toy who she didn’t recognize at all, but who seemed to know her whole family.

“Who the fuck are you?” Deb asked bluntly.

Ted, who immediately understood the way Debbie’s typically curt manner might make the volatile blond youth even more angry, stood up and tried to diffuse the situation by making introductions. “Debbie, this is Justin Taylor. He’s Brian’s boyfriend from New York. Justin, may I present today’s lovely bride, Debbie Novotny, who also happens to be the mother of the guy you just clobbered with the wedding cake.”

“Surprise!” Brian added, peeking around from behind Justin and smiling up at a shocked Debbie with a rakish grin.

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

“Boyfriend?” Michael asked for the third time, still unable to wrap his mind around the impossibility. “Are you sure?”

“Well, that’s what Teddy said,” Emmett confirmed as he helped Michael by wiping off the little smear of blood that had dried on the injured man’s chin. “When Teddy picked them up at the loft, Brian introduced the blond as his boyfriend and said they were living together in New York. Oh, and, according to Ted, they have a cat, too.”

“A cat? Brian has a cat?” Michael didn’t seem capable of grasping the basics of the conversation and the addition of a mythical pet cat wasn’t helping. “Brian hates pets.”

“Not anymore, apparently,” Emmett assured him and then handed him an ice pack to hold against his bruised and swollen chin. “Teddy told me it was a beautiful, fluffy, long-haired gray thing. They brought it with them from New York on the airplane. Teddy said that Brian was holding it and petting it and everything. I think it’s great. A pet should really mellow Brian out a lot. You know, I’ve heard that just petting an animal lowers your blood pressure and reduces stress. That’s why they have these programs where they bring dogs into the hospitals to visit with chronically ill patients . . ."

Michael tuned out Emmett after his segue into the benefits of pet ownership. He was still trying to get comfortable with the idea that the little blond truly was Brian’s . . . It just couldn’t be . . . Brian had always said he didn’t do relationships. Brian didn’t do dates. Brian didn’t do . . . BOYFRIENDS! It was fucking impossible. It had to be a lie. Or, maybe it was just a joke - just Brian trying to pull a funny, practical joke on the guys back home. That had to be it. No way was this for real. A boyfriend - hilarious!

“Michael, Sweetie, how are you feeling,” Mel asked as she came through the door into the kitchen where Em was trying to perform first aid on the fallen Michael. “Oh good, Em, you found that ice pack we always keep in the freezer. That should bring the swelling down. Did you find the aspirin too?”

“Michael, honey, what were you thinking,” Lindsay admonished, following her wife into the kitchen. “Dusty said you were trying to throw Justin out of the house? Why would you do that? He seemed like a nice enough kid when we met him. Gus just adores him. Did Justin say something to you or do something to make you want to throw him out? Somehow I just don’t see Justin doing something like that, though. What happened?”

‘When we met him’ . . . ‘Gus just adores him’ . . . Slowly, some of what Lindz was saying percolated through to Michael’s conscious mind. It didn’t make much more sense than everything else that was being said though. How could Lindsey and Mel and Gus know some trick that Brian brought here as a joke?

“. . . Yes, he’s an artist. He attends the School of Visual Arts in New York,” Lindsey was going on, enthusiastically telling Emmett all about the little blond upstart. “You know all those Christmas gifts of Gus’ - the little frames he painted for everyone? - well, all the little drawings in each of those were done by Justin. His work is just wonderful.”

“Brian said he’s even been doing some freelance work for the agency he works at,” Mel added, touting another of young Justin’s accomplishments. “He’s got to be pretty good if a firm like Kennedy & Collins is willing to pay him for the work.”

“But how long has this been going on?” Emmett asked, prying nosily into the meat of the matter. “I thought when you guys got back from New York you said Brian had a ‘roommate’. That’s a far cry from a boyfriend, ladies. And that was only a week ago. I wonder what happened in the meantime?”

“Who knows. But it had to be a whirlwind romance no matter how you look at it,” Lindsay agreed with Emmett. “Brian’s only been in New York since the beginning of November. Something big had to have happened to get Brian Kinney to actually admit that he now has a boyfriend.“

“That’s ENOUGH!” Michael couldn’t stand it any longer - he couldn’t sit there and listen to this drivel any more. “You’re all talking like you believe this. Like it’s not just some big joke. You can’t possibly believe that Brian Kinney brought a boyfriend back to Pittsburgh with him.”

“Well, Brian seems pretty serious,” Emmett said worriedly, concerned that Michael was getting upset all over again just when he’d managed to quiet the man down.  

Thankfully, Michael’s second total queen out of the day was prevented by Vic’s timely entrance into the kitchen. “Deb sent me to roust all of you. We were able to save the bottom tier of the cake - which is enough at least for the newlyweds to shove some into each other’s face. So, all of you get out there and clap while they cut the cake and then make some toasts. You too, Michael. And don’t let me catch you making any more trouble out there, Michael. This is your mother’s big day, don’t go ruining it by acting like a spoiled five year old.”

Michael pouted and grumbled a little but didn’t say anything loud enough for Vic to hear as he followed the rest of the crew out of the kitchen and back to the party. Unfortunately, the first thing that greeted him was his mother standing next to the irritating blond who’d caused all this trouble in the first place. With his chin still throbbing despite the cold pack he was holding against it, Michael was in no mood to play nice. Instead, he headed off in the opposite direction, looking for someone to talk to that would help get his mind off Brian Kinney and his new twink.

“Justin, this is Carl Horvath - the man who swept me off my feet - and it took a lot of sweeping, let me tell you,” Debbie was busy introducing the newest member of her little family around. “Carl, you remember Brian, of course, and this is Justin Taylor, Brian’s boyfriend from New York. Now, Justin, keep in mind that Carl here is a cop, so you better not get into any more brawls or I’ll let him arrest you, you hear!”

“I promise, no more brawling, Debbie,” Justin agreed, his cheeks bright red with embarrassment still.

“It’s nice to meet you, Justin. But, don’t worry, I wouldn’t arrest you. Today’s my day off. Unless I see you murder somebody in cold blood, I’m not wasting my time,” Carl added, his own sense of humor not much less brash than that of his new wife - which was why they made such a great pair. “Brian, good to see you too, son. How is New York treating you?”

“Well, so far,” Brian said with a big smirk and a squeeze to Justin’s shoulder, “I’d have to say I’m enjoying New York quite a bit. The amenities there are amazing. In fact, I rented this little furnished apartment and it came complete with cable plus an amazing live-in twink lover. I’ll take that over your standard ‘Welcome Wagon’ fare any day!”

“Oh, and you forgot to mention the complimentary pet cat,” Justin added, unwilling to let Brian get away with the ‘twink’ comment without at least some payback.

“Well, this is definitely a day of miracles, Sis,” Vic commented, overhearing the last part of the conversation as he re-entered the room to get everything setup for the cake cutting. “Not only did Debbie Novotny get married and Brian Kinney announce he has a boyfriend but now we find out he owns a cat, too. What a day. If I were a betting man, today’s the day I’d go out and buy that lottery ticket, bet on the Pick Three at the Meadows racetrack, buy stock in some unknown electronics company and send out unsolicited resumes to any company I ever wanted to work for.”

“Since I feel like I already won the lottery,” Brian replied, leaving a chaste little kiss on Justin’s cheek as he spoke and making the boy in his arms turn even redder, “I wouldn’t want to push my luck. I think I’ll settle for what I’ve already won, Vic.”

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

Chapter 27 - Bonfire Heart.

“Don’t they ever need to stop and breathe? They’ve been sucking each other’s faces for almost forty minutes now. I mean really, the way they’re dancing and grinding against each other, you’d think they would need to breathe occasionally,” Michael had been bitching about the way Brian and Justin were dancing for almost as long as the pair had been kissing and the rest of the gang was wondering if Michael ever needed to stop whining long enough to catch his own breath.

“Michael, Honey, instead of wasting a fabulous New Year’s Eve harping about Brian’s hot new boy toy, why don’t you get out there and find one of your own? The night isn’t getting any younger and neither are you,” Emmett offered his best advice, knowing all along that it wasn’t likely Michael would listen to him, but hoping that Michael would eventually quit his complaining so that everyone else could relax and enjoy their New Year’s Eve dancing at Babylon.

“I mean, first they come in and ruin my mother’s wedding . . . “ Michael’s diatribe was going on and on.

“I think it was YOU, who ruined the wedding by knocking over the cake, Michael,” Ted commented, however he was ignored by Michael as well.

“. . . Then Brian has to go showing off by announcing that he’s sending Ma and Carl to fucking Aruba for their Honeymoon. Who the hell does he think he is, Donald Fucking Trump? He only did it to rub all our noses in the fact that he’s got buckets of money so he can point out that we’re all stupid, poor losers. . . “

“Speak for yourself, Sweetie,” Emmett objected to being lumped in with the rest as a loser. “With this wedding successfully under my belt, I’m going to be the hottest fag party planner in town. Someday I might even be a rival for Mr. Kinney in the moneybuckets sweepstakes. So, don’t be calling me a loser.”

Deb’s Honeymoon in Aruba

“. . . Aruba? I mean, really? Ma hasn’t ever been further south than West Virginia. And now, Brian’s sending her to the fucking Caribbean? What the hell does Ma know about fucking Aruba? It’s ridiculous. . . .”

“I’m sure that Deb will figure out what to do. I mean, how tough can it be to lay around on a beautiful white sand beach and drink bottomless rum punches?” Ted opined wistfully, looking down on his ‘lite beer’ with disdain.

“. . . And if that wasn’t bad enough, Ma made me apologize to that stupid blond bimbo Brian brought. He’s the one who fucking knocked ME into the damn cake. Why should I have to apologize? Who the hell is this little chicken anyway? He seems to already have Lindz and Mel wrapped around his little twinkie finger and now he’s got Ma on his side too? Who does he think he is? He can’t just waltz in here and take over our whole lives? I don’t know what the fuck Brian sees in the skinny little twerp anyway. He’s not that hot. He’s just some stupid kid. Brian can do so much better. . .”

“Maybe, but you sure have to admire that perky little bubble butt,” Em said as he watched the perky ass in question swaying on the dance floor.

“And those gorgeous, full, pouty lips,” Ted added as he also continued to admire Brian’s new arm candy.

“And, boy-howdy, that boy sure can dance, can’t he? The way he moves those hips is mesmerizing,” Emmett seemed to be getting rather aroused by his perusal of the hips being discussed.

“Did you see the size of the package he’s sporting, too? For a small guy, he’s definitely well proportioned,” Ted agreed wholeheartedly with Em’s assessment of Brian’s new blond.

Michael didn’t seem to notice that he’d lost most of his audience. While Emmett and Ted were drooling away at the sight of the new blond hottie grinding on Brian on the dance floor, Michael continued to harp on about all the injustices in the world that were being heaped on him by Brian and this new interloper. Nobody else in all of Babylon seemed to share Michael’s opinion that Justin Taylor was just a skinny little twerp who wasn’t all that attractive. In fact, more than half of the men on the dance floor and pretty much all the spectators standing around at the bar were outright ogling Brian and Justin as the pair swayed together provocatively, kissing, touching, fondling and virtually humping vertically. Michael was apparently the only man in the place NOT hugely turned on by the sight.

“. . . He’s not fooling anybody, either. You can’t tell me that Brian Kinney has overnight become a new man, changed all his beliefs and now has a fucking ‘boyfriend’. And a god damned pussy cat, too? That’s just ludicrous. I’m NOT falling for that bullshit. That just isn’t Brian. I’m sure that there’s some kind of angle here - if it’s not just an outright joke then he’s got to be acting like this for a reason. But I’m not falling for it. I’m sick of being manipulated by Brian Kinney. . . “

Michael’s tirade had once again come around full circle back to his disbelief in the possibility of Brian ever having a boyfriend, and at this point, even easy-going Emmett had had enough. “Michael, dear, Brian said to your face and mine that Justin is his boyfriend. He didn’t stutter or quibble at the word either. Brian said BOYFRIEND. So, I’m not sure why you don’t believe it, or why you think Brian’s trying to somehow trick you, but it sure looks to me like it’s the real thing. But, since you don’t seem to want to do anything other than stand around here and bitch all night, I think I’m going to leave you to do it all by your lonesome. I’ve got better things to do, Honey. Ciao! Come on, Teddy, let’s go join Brian and Justin out there instead of just sitting here watching!”

Ted gleefully joined his best friend out on the dance floor, happy to abandon the grouchy, misanthropic Michael who had been railing on Brian and his new boyfriend ever since the wedding earlier in the afternoon. After all, it was New Years Eve, they were all young and healthy and surrounded by a whole club of mostly naked, sweaty, horny men. It was definitely time to have some fun. If Michael wanted to waste his evening crying into his drink, whatever, but the rest of them had come to Babylon to party. Ted danced after Emmett until they were shimmying alongside Brian and his beautiful little blond bombshell. This was much more fun. And, after all, the view of that cute little blond bubble butt was a lot better close up.

Brian surfaced from his intense focus on Justin’s body long enough to nod hello to Emmett and Ted when they came out onto the dance floor. But, nobody and nothing could distract him for long from Justin. They’d been dancing like this for fuck knows how long and oddly enough it didn’t seem to matter to Brian at all. Whereas, with any other man, he would have long tired of the dancing and either dragged his catch into the backroom or cut him loose and moved on, Brian was content to continue dancing with his Sunshine all night if that’s what Justin wanted. They were both hot and sweaty, beads of perspiration trickling down their necks, their backs, but all that did was make Brian want to touch the younger man even more. Something about the clean, sweaty musk that Justin gave off was so enticing. Brian wanted to immerse himself in that aroma and never leave.

Justin turned in his arms and continued dancing, his back now to Brian’s chest, his perfect ass pressing erotically against Brian’s groin. Brian’s hands rested on the slim swaying hips. Justin seemed so swept up in the music that his body just moved to the beat without thought and Brian felt his own body pulled along by the sensuous rhythms. They were both completely lost in the beat. Their bodies were part of the whirling mass of sound that flowed through the club, through their minds and flesh, and then floated off into the steamy distances leaving only the echoing beat inside each man’s heart.

Justin turned back, burying his face into Brian’s chest, noting that with his eyes closed he could feel Brian’s heart beating in perfect sync with his own. He’d never experienced anything else so erotic in his entire life. Keeping his eyes tightly closed, Justin raised his head and met Brian’s soft, welcoming lips with unerring accuracy. Brian’s hands, which had been roaming his body wildly, moved up so that he was cupping Justin’s face in his palms. Justin opened his eyes and felt like he was drowning in the captivating depths of gold and green staring back at him. Brian was kissing him as if nothing else in the entire world existed outside this one kiss. Their mouths moved together and their lips and tongues spoke silent volumes. For that moment, nothing else existed except that one perfect kiss, and it felt so good that neither ever wanted it to stop.

***In the background, the usual thumpa thumpa music paused and a blaring announcement finally broke the boys’ concentration. Up on the stage the emcee for the night was asserting that it was almost midnight. The distraction only barely registered as Brian turned back to his sweet blond, retaking those lusty pink lips and lowering one hand to the indentation of Justin’s lower back so that he could press his swollen and aching cock harder against the shorter man’s abdomen. Justin’s own crotch was rubbing sensuously against Brian’s thigh. Without the music to drive them, they stood there in stasis, just kissing with their bodies molded together and their hands planted against the sweat dampened skin of the other.

The moment stretched on. The room, the people, the noise all seemed to fade into a dimness that no longer touched them. The only sensation still present in the same space with them was the palpable heat catching hold at every spot where their two bodies met. And then, just as Brian’s own arousal soared to a new peak, he looked down into Justin’s crystal blue eyes and felt the smaller man’s frame begin to tremble in his arms. Brian swallowed the moan that escaped from Justin’s core. He clasped the quaking form more closely to his own and felt the same trembling pulse through his own gut, his very core. Brian sensed the exact moment when the quivering muscles in the younger man’s belly began to tighten in that unmistakable orgasmic rhythm right before his own body echoed the motions. Justin stood there, surrounded by Brian’s tender embrace, even as they both succombed to the passion and came at the exact moment that the indoor fireworks exploded on the stage next to them.

When Brian’s sense of hearing returned to him moments later, he could hear the celebratory shouts of ‘Happy New Year’ bouncing around the rafters of the club. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the beautiful blue sparkling gaze of the man still shaking in his arms. Brian almost didn’t notice when the last of the fireworks in the club died away. The adoring glow in Justin’s eyes was so bright it easily eclipsed the flash of the meaningless little explosions going on around them. Their own fireworks were enough.

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

New Year’s Day started off slow and sensual. The sun pelting through the large loft windows woke the lazy young artist far too early, especially considering how very late they had been up celebrating the night before. It wasn’t a problem, though. Justin simply rolled over in the extra-large, super-soft platform bed and snuggled down deeper under the blankets with Brian’s warm arms circling around him for added comfort.

The closer contact caused Justin’s bedmate to sigh contentedly in his sleep and nuzzle his nose deeper into the mop of messy blond hair. Justin allowed himself to wallow in the feeling of being so utterly cherished. It had been a very, very long time since he’d had a lover who was this overwhelmingly attentive. Justin wanted to take advantage of it for as long as he possibly could.

However, the comfortable snuggly feeling that Justin woke with was rapidly losing out to his sense of arousal. When he’d rolled over, Justin’s left hand just happened to land in a curly pile of Brian’s soft pubes. He’d been idly twirling the wiry strands around his fingers, making little swirly towers in decorative patterns all over Brian’s crotch, while lightly tickling the interesting manly pieces he came into contact with every so often.

Not unexpectedly, the more he played with Brian’s manly bits, the more interested Justin’s own manly bits became. And, since Justin’s cock was now snugly trapped between his belly and Brian’s hip, the more interested his manly pieces got in that tight warm space, the more he just really wanted to rub that particular manly part against Brian’s long lean leg. If it weren’t for the fact that Brian looked so sweet and innocent while he slept, Justin would have long ago given up and jumped on him outright. But, although at first Justin had wanted to let Brian sleep, both of their manly parts were pretty much completely awake by now and the younger man was beginning to change his mind.

Justin argued silently with himself for quite a while as he gently nudged and rubbed up against Brian’s side. Should I wake him? Should I let him sleep? Wouldn’t he rather be woken up and fucked? Maybe not - maybe Brian was really tired? Is it possible to cum just by lying here thinking about rubbing against him? That would probably wake him up though. What should I do?

All the manly bits and pieces finally won the argument and Justin was readying himself to take drastic action towards the goal of waking and fucking Mr. Kinney, when the other proprietor of the nearby manly bits lifted up his head, growled and then lightly bit at Justin’s earlobe. Justin figured that solved most all of his immediate concerns. Brian was awake and there would most likely be action taken to assuage the needs of all the hungry manly parts currently clamoring for attention.

Brian immediately took over without any need for input from Justin at this point. Apparently, when you woke up Brian’s manly parts before his brain received sufficient amounts of caffeine, there wasn’t much need for talking in the mornings. Brian’s dick already knew precisely what to do and was quite adept at it, too. So, without further ado, Justin was pushed over flat onto his back, his legs hoisted abruptly into the air and all the preliminaries were managed with only a few erotic grunts out of either of them. Brian’s happy manly bits were sheathed, lubed and sunk into Justin’s depths in short order and Justin’s cock received all the rubbing it had been seeking without additional delay. Three or four moans, one grunt and a couple of groans later, everyone was happily sated and all the manly pieces were at rest once again.

It was a really great way to start off the New Year, at least according to Justin. Brian mostly agreed, although he wasn’t so sure about the new ‘do’ his groin was sporting due to Justin’s bored fingers. But, if mornings like this were the result, he supposed he could deal with the patch of curlicues he found between his legs when he and Justin finally made it to the shower.

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

***My inspiration for this scene came from another great QAF story by Conzieu, ‘In His Kiss’. Check it out - it’s hot! http://www.mags-nificent.com/MSW/ConF/Kiss.htm

Chapter 28 - New Year, New Life?

Brian and Justin tumbled out of the shower together a while later, but not until after the water had already become ice cold. They didn’t have any solid plans for the day and didn’t really have any desire to venture further from their bed than necessary. Justin was all for moving directly from the shower back to the bed right away. Brian, though, thought a short interlude filled with coffee and maybe something to eat might be nice - and then they would hop back into bed. As soon as Justin heard ‘something to eat’ he was all for the change of plans.

Brian left Justin brushing his teeth and strutted out to the kitchen to start the coffee. Luckily, whoever had stocked his loft with groceries had indeed remembered to get fresh ground coffee. However, Brian couldn’t seem to find the carafe for the coffee maker anywhere. After rummaging through the cabinets for several minutes to no avail, he decided, on a whim, to check in the dishwasher - it really was the only other place he could think of where the damn thing might be hiding.

There, in the top rack, Brian did actually find the missing carafe. To his chagrin, he also found one of Justin’s ugly, dirty old sneakers that had apparently made the trip with them all the way from New York to Pittsburgh. Brian wasn’t sure if he should yell - the thought of those mucky shoes anywhere near the container that usually held his sacred morning beverage almost made him gag - or laugh at the boy’s ongoing ingenuity. If he hadn’t been up most of the night celebrating with Justin or had already had his morning coffee, Brian might have been able to decide which to do. But this morning he didn’t have the energy. He simply extracted the icky shoe, tossed it on the floor and proceeded to rewash the carafe by hand.  

Fifteen minutes later, with two mugs of coffee in one hand and the dreaded traveling sneaker in the other, he found his troublesome blond back in the big bed, grinning up at him mischievously. He chucked the shoe at Justin’s head without comment. Justin deflected the projectile shoe and smiled even more. Brian found he couldn’t delve up even an ounce of anger in the face of that glorious smile no matter what the kid had done. With a shrug and a chuckle, he gave up, handed Justin one of the coffees and climbed back into the invitingly warm bed.

“You do realize that I’m going to make you rewash all the dishes in the washer - by hand - now that you’ve contaminated them all with those shoes of yours,” Brian warned after a few sips of coffee had revived them both.

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Kinney. What shoes?” Justin replied, playing the dumb blond.

“You know what shoes, you twat. Now, are you going to tell me where the other one is so I can head off any other possible germ transmissions before we both end up with Beriberi or something,” Brian insisted, obviously still very angry at his silly blond, as was evidenced by the kisses he interspersed all over Justin’s face and neck and shoulders as he interrogated the young man.

“Nope. I’m not telling. You’ll find it eventually. And, by the way, Beriberi isn’t caused by germs. It’s caused by a nutritional deficiency when you don’t get enough B vitamins, so my shoes have nothing to do with it.”

“Another Public Service Announcement? Isn’t it too early in the morning for that, Sunshine?” Brian teased, taking the cup of hot coffee out of Justin’s hands and setting it aside before pursuing his inquiry into the whereabouts of the remaining shoe.

The kissing became much more insistent at that point and was backed up with tickling, pinching and just a bit of groping, all in the name of finding the missing shoe, of course. Justin was wriggling and laughing and trying to squirm out of Brian’s reach - but not trying too hard. The whole proceeding devolved rapidly into a giggling, playful make out session and the shoes were almost completely forgotten before too long. They might have disappeared under the covers for another round of New Year’s Celebrations at that point if it hadn’t been for a certain furry grey beast, who was feeling rather left out of the fun, jumping up onto the bed at that point.

Winston the cat had settled into his temporary home here at the loft very quickly. He’d had a great time exploring all afternoon the day before. This place was great, as far as Winston was concerned. He especially loved the drawer full of toys he’d found last night. He hadn’t really thought of the New Person as much of a cat lover, really, but now that he knew the person had all sorts of fun cat toys, he figured he might change his opinion. So, when Winston heard his people laughing and playing together in the big bed, he decided to join them, and he dragged along one of the new toys he thought they could all play with.

Winston strutted across the piles of blankets and sat his furry little ass on Brian’s pillow. Then, with a loud “Moww” he announced his arrival, the plastic ring on the string of ben wa beads falling out of his mouth in the process.

Brian looked at the cat. He looked at the anal beads that the cat had brought him. He looked down at Justin and then back at the cat again. “Your fuzzball is a little kinky, Sunshine,” Brian laughed nervously. “I’m not sure even I’m up for whatever it is he’s got planned with those. I really don’t do beastiality, Sunshine.”

“Gross, Brian,” Justin cringed at the mere suggestion and struggled out from under his companion, the mood pretty much ruined by the fuzzy intruder. “This is NOT a cat toy, Winston,” Justin said as he picked up the beads with one hand and shooed the cat away with the other. Winston batted with his claws at the hand trying to take away his toy, but got the message pretty easily that his Person wasn’t feeling playful, and the unhappy cat eventually stalked off in a snit.

“So, where the hell did he find this,” Justin asked Brian, handing back the toy to its still-chuckling owner. “I suggest that if you don’t want to share your toys, Brian, you better keep them shut away better.”

“How was I to know your furball was into kink?” Brian took back the toy and laughed some more as Justin indignantly grabbed his coffee cup and flounced off to the kitchen for more sustenance. “If you’re not coming back to bed so we can put this to its proper use, Sunshine, how about we head out and get some breakfast?” Brian yelled after the retreating blond while putting the beads back in their drawer and shutting the whole thing up tight so that Winston wouldn’t be able to do any more research into Brian’s sex toys.

Justin was about to shout back his agreement with the idea of pursuing breakfast, when he was interrupted by someone hammering insistently on the big metal loft door. Luckily for the naked man, the remnants of the clothing he and Brian had been wearing when they got back from Babylon last night were strewn across the floor and he grabbed up the first pair of boxers that he saw. As he was pulling them on, he realized a little too late that they were Brian’s not his. The clamor at the door was getting more demanding, though, so Justin didn’t stop to quibble about who’s pants he was wearing before trotting over to end the racket.

Flicking the lock open, Justin pulled the door back just enough to see the inauspicious countenance of Mr. Michael Novotny. He contemplated slamming the door shut again immediately, but before he could do anything, Michael had wedged his hand around the edge of the door and was pulling it open. Justin wasn’t really in the mood to confront Brian’s erstwhile friend again, especially this early in the morning, so he just stepped back, hands held up in surrender, and let the little man storm through the doorway and into the loft.

“Brian, it’s for you, I think,” Justin hollered as he closed the door and went back to getting himself more coffee.

“Well, I’m definitely not here to see you, Boy Wonder,” Michael spat dismissively as he stomped past Justin without even looking at the younger man. “Brian, we need to talk,” Michael stated, heading towards the bedroom despite not being invited in let alone being invited to invade the sanctity of Brian’s favorite room.

Brian cut Michael off, sauntering nakedly out of the bathroom and pushing Michael backwards down the stairs into the main room. “Michael, what an EXPECTED and rather unpleasant surprise. Didn’t you get enough time to rant at me yesterday?” Brian shouldered past his old friend dismissively and took the fresh mug of coffee Justin was already holding out to him. “That’s a nice look on you, Sunshine,” Brian commented as he noted that Justin was dressed in HIS boxer shorts. “I always knew you wanted into my pants, though.”

Justin’s only reply was to swat Brian’s delectably bare hind end as he walked past on his way back up to the bedroom to get dressed. Brian watched the swaying blond ass as it ambled away, smiling at the sight, before sitting on a stool at the kitchen island with his coffee and turning his attention back to Michael. Brian wasn’t at all surprised to note that Michael’s attention had been momentarily distracted by Justin’s retreating ass as well.

“So, did you come over here this morning just to ogle my boyfriend’s ass or was there another purpose behind your barging in,” Brian asked snarkily, dragging Michael’s wandering attention back to himself.

“What the fuck? Are you serious about that ‘boyfriend’ thing, Brian? I figured you would have given up on that joke by now. I’m surprised the trick is still here, even, but whatever . . .”  

“Michael, if you just came over to harp on about that shit, then I think this visit is already over,” Brian stated emphatically. “My personal life - who I fuck, who I date and all that entails - isn’t any of your fucking business. If you actually want to talk about something you do have a say about, then fine. Talk. But, otherwise, you can see yourself out and don’t forget to lock up when you leave.”

Brian started to get up. He was already sick of dealing with a whiney Michael and it was only January 1st. At this rate, it was going to be a very long and whiney new year. He’d rather start it off with another great fuck with Justin than another argument with Michael.

“Brian. Brian, please, come back. I really need to talk to you. It’s about the girls,” Michael pleaded, using his best hurt puppydog eyes in order to get the maximum sympathy from his friend.

“Fine, Michael. I’ll listen, but no more ragging on Justin. Sit,” Brian pointed to the couch and reluctantly followed his old friend, still not bothering to worry about finding any clothing.

As the two men sat, one on each end of the white leather couch, Justin came back out of the bedroom and made himself comfortable by nestling his now clothed but still perfect ass on Brian’s lap. The happy brunet wrapped his arms around the blond’s slender waist before turning his attention back to the antsy, annoyed little man waiting to talk to him. Michael looked disgustedly at the blond interloper but didn’t dare say anything more. Taking a deep breath and trying to avoid looking at Justin while talking past him to a semi-distracted Brian, Michael opened his mouth and . . .

“Owwww!” Michael howled as a pointy clawed, hissing and growling Winston landed in his lap.

Michael leapt to his feet, dislodging the irate cat but not without suffering a few small tears to his slacks. The panicky little man backed away from the still snarling beast, while the grey furry creature stalked after him, all the hair on the cat’s back standing on end, his tail fluffed up to three times it usual size and all his teeth showing. When Michael could retreat no further, he huddled pathetically into the corner, and looked pleadingly over to where Brian and Justin were laughing their asses off at the hilarious scene.

“I see you’ve met our cat, Winston, Mikey,” Brian intoned with a chuckle. “He really doesn’t seem to like you much, does he?”

“Get that THING away from me, Brian. Fuck! I’m bleeding - it clawed me. Brian. Brian! BRIAN!” Michael was now screaming, which only frightened the cat and made him more aggressive, while the other men rolled on the couch, barely able to breathe through the spiraling waves of laughter that hit harder with every one of Michael’s anguished yowls. “Brian, help me! Please! Get it away from me!”

“IT is a tiny little cat that probably only weighs about a pound, Michael. Do you really need me to save you from the scary pussy?” Brian couldn’t help teasing Mikey just a bit more while his friend cowered in the corner.

“Winston,” Justin said, finally taking pity on the poor frightened man and picking up the cat with one hand. “You shouldn’t scare the guests like that, or they’ll leave and won’t come back to visit again.”

“We should be so lucky,” Brian whispered, petting the cat briefly as Justin carried his furry little protector away.

“You think this is funny, do you?” Michael raged once he’d been saved from the angry pussy cat, completely indignant and offended by Brian’s continued laughter at him. “Fuck you, Brian. You know what, just forget it. I don’t really care what you think anymore. You can just go back to your cushy life in New York with your stupid little twinkie boyfriend and your fucking cat and everything else. I’m outta here!”

Michael stomped off again, this time heading out the door instead of in. Brian followed behind, locking the door as soon as his old friend left. Justin, still holding a naughty Winston, came quietly up behind him and rested his head against Brian’s shoulder.

“Sorry about that. Winston is pretty protective of me sometimes. He obviously sensed that Michael didn’t like me and . . . well, got all protective,” Justin started to explain.

“Don’t apologize, Sunshine,” Brian interrupted. “I really didn’t want to talk to Mikey today, anyway. Besides, that’s probably the shortest and most painless conversation I’ve had with the man in the last ten years. You did good, Furball,” Brian tweaked the cat’s ear affectionately before moving off towards the bedroom to finally get himself dressed for the day.

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

Brian and Justin didn’t make it out of the loft until almost two in the afternoon. They might not have even ventured out that early, except that they got a call from the girls. Gus was demanding to see his Daddy and his Jus’n. Unfortunately, by the time they made it to the house to pick up Gus, it was starting to snow and their plans for going to the park were sunk. Being the good father that he was though, Brian was determined not to let that stop him.

After extensive discussion, with much pleading on Gus’ behalf, Brian was eventually talked into taking them all to see the latest animated children’s movie, Planet Purple People Eaters. And, as if it weren’t bad enough that Brian was being forced to view an animated children’s movie with such an insipid name, Lindsay informed him that the only place the movie was playing was at the local mall. As much as Brian enjoyed being his new, improved self, he wasn’t sure he was ready to face the idea of Brian Kinney taking his boyfriend and his son to see a children’s movie at the mall. The entire concept was pretty horrifying. Even thinking about it made his skin crawl. If it weren’t for Gus’s cute little face, which was mutely begging right alongside Justin’s cute little face, Brian might have had a chance to back out of it all. Maybe.

Which is how Brian Kinney, former Stud of Liberty Avenue, the King of Babylon's backroom, the Lustiest Lothario of Liberty Avenue, the best of the Bedroom Ballbusters, Whiskey Whore, and the man who NEVER did relationships, found himself waiting in line at the concession stand at a suburban mall movie theater, holding a stuffed purple koala bear Justin had talked him into buying as a souvenir of the movie while Gus was trying to get him to buy every kind of candy that was offered. Oh, how the mighty had fallen! Brian’s only hope was that nobody would see him. Of course, that slim hope was immediately dashed when the cry of “Justin? Justin!” rang out from somewhere not too far away inside the main theater lobby.

Brian felt Justin immediately tense up beside him. The younger man didn’t turn around right away, even when the voice calling his name repeated its call again and again, getting closer with every second. Gus was the one who actually took the initiative to find out who was yelling at his friend.

“Jus’n there’s a girl calling your name,” Gus informed everyone. “She has red hair. She’s coming over here, too. Why’s that girl calling your name?”

Putting the best face on it that he could, Justin smiled down at Gus and then turned to meet the four-and-a-half-foot tall, red-headed, pony-tail bedecked, threat. “Hey, Molly!”

“Justin! It is you,” Molly launched herself into her big brother’s arms for a hug while she continued to pelt him with questions. “Mom said you weren’t coming to visit this Christmas, but here you are. Why haven’t you come to see me? Who’s that man and that little boy? Are you going to see a movie? Which one? We could sit together, maybe.”

Justin was preparing to burrow into this pile of questions when two additional familiar faces arrived on the scene and he was rendered speechless. Walking up to the spot where Brian, Justin and Gus were standing with Molly, was a well-dressed, middle-aged, blond couple. And, if Justin had been tense before, just at the sound of Molly’s voice, he was practically petrified now that he saw these two newcomers.

“Justin,” the elegant blonde woman said, smiling a bit nervously but reaching out nonetheless to hug the surprised young artist. “I didn’t know you were in town. You told me that you were going to be too busy to visit during the holidays this year, dear.”

“I . . . I didn’t . . .”

“Our trip was sort of last minute,” Brian stepped in and answered for his tongue-tied companion. “Hi, I’m Brian and this is my son, Gus.”

Brian held his hand out, ready to shake hands with the two newcomers, but ended up just standing there with his hand awkwardly swinging in the air when his only greeting was an anxious smile from the woman and a nasty sneer from the man. After a few moments, he let his empty hand drop down where it lit upon Gus’ shoulder. Brian unconsciously pulled his son closer to him.

“Molly, let’s go,” the forbidding man ordered, turning his back on everyone else and walking away.

“But, Dad . . . what about the movie?” Molly protested, her feet staying planted right where she’d been standing, a full-blown pout on her pixyish face and her arms crossed stubbornly. “You said you would take me to see Planet Purple. You promised! He promised, didn’t he, Mom?”

“I’m not going to argue with you, Molly. We’re leaving,” Craig demanded, turning back only long enough to yell his command across the width of the movie theater lobby, then turning and marching away as if he expected his family to follow.

Jennifer Taylor simply stood there quivilling and chewing nervously at her bottom lip - obviously a Taylor family trait, since Justin was doing the exact same thing - looking back and forth between the obstinate little girl and the angrily departing man. “Molly, I think . . . maybe we’ll have to do the movie another time . . . Don’t worry, dear, I’ll make sure I set up another time for your father to take you. Maybe next weekend when you’re scheduled to stay at his house?”

“I wanted to see it today, Mom. Dad promised me we’d go see it on New Year's Day. That’s why I didn’t go with my friend, Shari, and see it last week - because Dad promised he’d take me today. Now he’s backing out. Again! Why does he always do this to me? I hate him!” Molly persisted petulantly.

“I’m sorry, dear. I know your father promised, but . . ." Jennifer really couldn’t come up with any good explanation why her ex-husband was acting like such an ass - at least not one she could give to her nine year old.

“Mrs. Taylor,” Brian bravely stepped into the fray again. “Justin and I were already taking Gus to see that particular movie. If you’d like, Molly is welcome to join us. We could bring her back home afterwards.”

“Um . . . that’s very nice of you to offer, but . . . well, Craig wouldn’t . . . uh . . .” Jennifer didn’t know how to get out of this politely.

“Fuck, Craig, mother,” Justin finally found his voice. “Molly wants to see the movie and we’re already here. You want to come see the movie with us, Mollusk?”

“Yeah! Thanks, Jester! Please, Mom. Please!” Molly wheedled, knowing from the guilty look on her mother’s face that she’d already won.

“I don’t know, Molly. Your father . . ." Jennifer looked back at the doorway through which Craig Taylor had disappeared, just a hint of disgust showing on her otherwise composed features. “Oh . . . whatever! Yes, Molly, of course you can go with your brother. Sorry about that, Justin . . . I didn’t mean . . ."

“Would you like to join us as well, Mrs. Taylor,” Brian offered magnanimously, admitting to himself that the situation was already as bad as it could get - since he was now going to a kiddy movie with his boyfriend, his son, and his boyfriend’s little sister, would it really make any difference if he also invited along the mother-in-law?

And that’s how Brian Kinney - loner, lothario, egotistic, narcissistic asshole extraordinaire, ended up taking his ‘family’ to the movies on New Years Day.

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

Chapter 29 - Was It Worth It?

Despite all his misgivings, Brian ended up really enjoying the Planet Purple movie. To be honest, he had laughed his ass off through the whole thing. It was one of those incredibly well made animated movies that were written on multiple levels so that not only do the kids enjoy the silliness of it, but the parents that are there with their kids are entertained by the pop culture references and more ‘mature’ jokes. Nine year old Molly had loved it and was effusively thanking her brother and Brian for taking her to see it. Three year old Gus probably only got about a quarter of the jokes, but had fallen hopelessly in love with Molly at first sight and was emulating her by laughing at anything the older girl laughed at. The adults found Gus’ antics at least equally as amusing as the movie, so by the time the group emerged from the theater an hour and a half later, everyone was laughing and in a great mood.

Nobody expected to be blindsided by an outraged Craig Taylor who had been waiting for them on the sidewalk just outside the mall. The fuming older man came up from behind as they all filed through the exit doors, grabbed Justin’s arm and spun him around before anyone was even aware what was happening. It wasn’t until Justin’s hand was torn out of his, that Brian even knew anything was wrong.

"I told you to stay away from my daughter," Craig spat vehemently. “I won’t have you infecting her with your perversions. You’re already a lost cause, but Molly is still pure and innocent and I don’t want you anywhere near her. Do you hear me?”

Everyone seemed frozen in place. Jennifer and Molly were just standing there watching Craig. Gus was huddled against his father’s leg, hiding his face in the folds of Brian’s slacks. Random strangers who’d been close enough to overhear Craig’s vitriolic speech, gaped at the group, edging around them in a wide circle waiting to see if intervention would be needed or even desired and in the meantime enjoying the show. For a long moment, even Justin and Craig seemed paralysed and unmoving. Brian was waiting until someone else moved first, vaguely expecting Kung Fu Justin to appear and take down Craig, depositing the rude little shit in the decorative fountain that burbled away on the sidewalk in front of the entrance to the mall.

However, no one moved. The frozen moment went on much longer than it should have. Craig and Justin were caught up in each other’s angry glares but neither seemed to be moving. Brian was beginning to hope that the situation would resolve itself. Then, he happened to notice a drop of bright scarlet drip down from where Craig’s fist was wrapped around Justin’s wrist, landing with a visible splat on the cement sidewalk at Justin’s feet. Brian’s vision immediately zeroed in on that tightly clamped fist and he saw that Craig’s fingers were so strongly gripping at Justin’s pale flesh that his fingernails were digging little red half-moon wounds into the soft skin.

That’s when the scene thawed instantly and everything became raging fury and motion. Brian’s own hands curled into fists right before he stepped forward and slammed a strong right cross into the side of Craig’s jaw. Craig went flying sideways, his unloosened grip pulling Justin along for the trip, and knocked forcefully into a curious bystander who had unfortunately ventured just a step too close. With a predictable domino effect, bystander #1 toppled into random citizen #2, who then grabbed onto innocent victim #3, and so on until there was a pile of several injured people writhing together and bleeding on the heretofore pristine cement sidewalk.

**Before anyone could sort themselves out, a couple of oversexed Horror Movie Scream Queens-in-training let go with shrieks that were right out of the classic ‘Scream’ movie franchise. The uproar alerted the ever-present, post-911, mall security team who came out armed with mace guns and tasers, shouting aimlessly at the flailing victims already lying helplessly on the ground and threatening to shoot anyone who moved. Only one of the Mall Cops was observant enough to identify the instigator of the melee - thankfully he was a stereotypical overweight, middle-aged, probably ex-police officer who didn’t run as fast as the others and wasn’t quite as trigger happy as the rest of his crew. When Craig Taylor finally extricated himself from the pig-pile of victims, stood up and brushed off his clothing, trying to walk away nonchalantly, Super Mall Cop walked determinedly up to him and blocked his way, ostentatiously tapping his baton into the palm of his hand with a demeaning little smile on his face, especially for Craig.

Moments later four police cruisers tore into the mall parking lot and several police clad in full swat-gear boiled out of the cars, with their rifles and guns all trained on the ‘scene of the crime’. Super Mall Cop already had a plastic zip-tie around Craig’s wrists and was escorting him over to be investigated by the police. Brian helped Justin up to his feet and then made sure that Molly and Gus were okay - Jennifer was already protectively herding them away from the general brouhaha. By this time there were ambulances pulling up and paramedics checking out all the wounded as well as local news teams setting up their cameras to try to milk every ounce of melodrama out of the non-event. Brian and Justin were corralled by a team of police detectives who demanded they give statements and then insisted that Justin’s small scratches be treated by a paramedic.

So much for Brian trying out the experience of a nice evening at the cinema with his family!

It was really late before Brian and Justin managed to get back to the loft. They’d been questioned at length by the police who eventually took Craig away and charged him with inciting a riot. Jennifer was very thankful that Brian had been there to head off any further violence but she quickly took off with a slightly stunned Molly. Justin had said virtually nothing in all this time, wallowing in the guilt of getting both Molly and Gus involved in such a distasteful mess.

Lindz and Mel, who had of course seen the whole thing on the television and were completely freaking out, gave Brian a two hour lecture as soon as he managed to finally get Gus home. He also got phone calls from Debbie, Michael, Emmett and Ted to find out the inside scoop on what had happened. In the end, it seemed to Brian like everyone was convinced he was wholly at fault for everything that had happened that night. Brian wondered if he’d ever be allowed visitation with Gus again.

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

By the time Brian and Justin got back to the loft they were both exhausted and aggravated.

Justin was preoccupied with thoughts of his father. This confrontation had brought to the surface all the insecurities and pain that he’d felt two years ago when he first came out to his parents and told them he didn’t want to continue on at Dartmouth. At first Craig Taylor had seemed to be trying to understand or at least make excuses for Justin. By the end of the discussion, though, the entire conversation had devolved into swearing and name calling until finally, Craig refused to listen anymore, hitting his son in the face to physically shut him up. Even then, though, Justin hadn’t expected his father to order him out of the house for good and tell him to stay away from his little sister. To Justin, who’d always felt close to his father, the slap in the face hurt far less than hearing his father tell him he never wanted to see him again.

Jennifer had tried to intervene, but in the end Craig was intractable. And as if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d disappointed his father, Justin felt even more guilty when Jennifer subsequently left Craig. Despite his mother telling him repeatedly that their marriage had been on the rocks for a long time, Justin still felt responsible for the split and the ensuing divorce. And, while Justin and Jennifer had maintained contact even after Justin fled from Pittsburgh to go stay with Daphne in New York, things had been strained between mother and son ever since.

It was a broken, dejected and guilt-ridden young man who’d arrived on Daphne’s doorstep in New York City. Justin had felt so worthless. It had taken him months to break out of the depression his father’s rejection had sent him into. The only thing keeping him from giving up altogether, most of the time, had been his best friend’s encouragement. But somehow, Justin had managed to find himself a job, get his transfer to SVA worked out and then found himself an apartment. His self-confidence had still been at a low ebb, however, even after he started back to school. In fact, it wasn’t until he’d met Connor that Justin started to actually believe that he wasn’t the worthless piece of shit with no future that his father had told him he was.

It had taken a lot of hard work and perseverance to transform Justin from that hopeless, uncertain and easily intimidated rejected boy into the confident and more self assured man he was today. But just ten minutes of Craig Taylor’s nastiness had almost reduced Justin back to that ineffectual heap. He was ashamed that he hadn’t stood up to Craig. He should have said something to the man - protested Craig’s homophobic nonsense, stood up for himself and protected both Gus and Molly from the monster. But Justin had simply frozen. He hadn’t said anything or done anything. He had acted the fucking coward. If it hadn’t been for Brian, Justin was afraid that the man might have done something to really scare or hurt the two children and that would have been all his fault. Why did he have to prove his father right by acting like such a pansy-assed little fairy. Justin was embarrassed and ashamed that he’d acted so shamefully in front of Brian.

Brian, meanwhile, was equally preoccupied with his own thoughts and not really paying much attention to Justin. Brian was busy berating himself as well - not because of his actions as to Craig, but instead for letting himself get pulled into the dispute in the first place. Brian detested violence more than almost anything else in the world. He’d hated everything about his father, Jack, and vowed that he would never, ever, be like his father. So, even though Brian had learned how to fight with his fists at an early age and wasn’t above fighting back if he needed to protect himself, he rarely resorted to violence if there was any other way to resolve a dispute. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d ended up in a fist fight - at least since the time he left Jack and Joan’s house. Brian was upset with himself that he’d let Craig Taylor push him so far that he’d broken his promise to himself.

Looking back at the situation, Brian could easily see where he’d gone wrong. He admitted that by the time he actually had decked Craig, there wasn’t much else he could have done. Craig was hurting Justin and scaring Gus. Brian really hadn’t had much choice by that point. However, he shouldn’t have ever been put in that position in the first place. If it had just been Brian, he would have walked away from Craig immediately. In fact, he would have walked away back before they’d even gone into the movie theater - got the hell away from the potential conflict before it even started.

Of course, that was before he’d met Justin. It was his desire to somehow impress Justin with his boyfriend-like skills that had prompted him to chime in and invite Jennifer and Molly to join them at the movie. In fact, it was Justin who’d talked him into going to the ridiculous movie in the first place. What the hell was Brian Kinney doing in a suburban shopping mall theater going to a kid’s movie in the first place. It was inevitable that scenario would end in disaster, wasn’t it?

Brian liked being with Justin - a LOT. He’d actually really enjoyed playing the role of boyfriend the past few days. He kind of got off on how surprised and even upset the gang, especially Mikey, was at his declaration that he had a boyfriend and a cat. Their surprised and confused faces had been very amusing. Plus, Justin was incredibly gorgeous, intelligent, fun and fabulous in bed, so there was very little down side there.

But . . . well, acting all relationshipy was really out of character for Brian. He had absolutely no experience in this realm at all. And tonight’s encounter with Craig, had proven to him again how messy the whole thing could get. If it weren’t for him trying to be Justin’s boyfriend, he wouldn’t have been put in a situation where he had to choose between his convictions and protecting someone else. Being involved with someone was inherently messy, confusing and someone almost always got hurt. That was the main reason Brian Kinney had consistently avoided relationships. Maybe he needed to rethink this thing about getting involved with the young blond? Was he truly ready for this shit? Was it worth it?

Justin, who had been quietly contemplating his own version of ‘Was it Worth It?’, albeit focused on his disastrous coming out, finally got up from where he’d been sitting on a stool at the kitchen island and decided to head towards the shower. Maybe a lot of extra hot water would wash away the distaste he felt towards his father at this point. Dwelling on it wasn’t helping much.

Brian had been standing at the large loft windows during his bout of contemplation, as if something in the starry night sky might show him the answers he was looking for. As Justin flipped the light switch in the bathroom, the room lit up and the large glass panes in front of Brian became more of a mirror than a portal to the sky. Justin was standing in the midst of the doorway, slowly stripping off his clothing, obviously lost in his own thoughts. Brian watched the reflection of the little strip show going on behind him in the windows. It was oddly erotic - like being a peeping tom of sorts - the younger man was so clearly not paying any attention and had no idea that Brian was watching him.

Justin pulled his t-shirt off and stretched langorusly, his back arching as he held his hands together overhead and twisted slightly from side to side to increase the relief to all his tight muscles. Brian watched the taut pale skin ripple over the lightly muscled torso. The boy was so utterly hot and didn’t even know it half the time. Brian sure as shit noticed though. When Justin released the stretch and deftly unbuttoned his jeans, then bent down as he slid the material over his slim hips and perfect heart-shaped ass, Brian remembered suddenly exactly why he’d thought it was worth it before. Justin was fucking hot. He was also talented, funny, smart and a fucking tiger in bed. What the fuck - it HAD to be worth it if this was his prize. it would all work out somehow. But, in the meantime, Brian would concentrate on that hot sweet little ass and not bother worrying about how domesticated he’d become.

By then, Justin had kicked off the remains of his pants and pulled off his socks and was momentarily framed in profile in the doorway. Brian could see the younger man’s impressive, half-erect dick, and felt himself salivating at the idea of tasting that appetizing cock. He swallowed quickly before he started drooling. His palms itched to feel the heavy silk covered steel of that wondrous rod. To graze across the thin, almost translucent skin that covered Justin’s groin. To wind around the reddish gold fuzz of his pubes. Brian’s nose twitched to smell the musky sweat under the boy’s arms and feel the heat of the rapid pulse running down Justin’s long neck on his lips. The compulsion to turn around and run towards this beautiful man and take him in whatever way possible as quickly as possible, was deliciously painful to resist. Brian was almost panting with desire for that young, nubile, tasty body that was reflected back at him upon the tapestry of the Pittsburgh night skyline.

He held out as long as he could before giving in to the pressure to stalk after the helpless, unsuspecting quarry. The thrill of holding out, of holding back when all he wanted was to ravage that smooth, perfect blond boy ass, was getting him even harder. It was delicious torture. But, finally, the boy moved further into the bathroom, and the reflection in the window disappeared. Brian heard the click as the shower door was pulled open and then the hiss of noise as the water came on. Brian held himself back one moment longer, letting the anticipation build, until he heard the clack of the shower door closing and the change in the sound of the water caused by Justin’s body moving under the flow. It was like a siren call to Brian. He couldn’t hold back a second longer.

Turning in place and then leaping up the stairs in a graceful panther-like move, Brian let himself follow his prey. His own clothing was shed adroitly before he even reached the bathroom doorway. He didn’t even slow down to admire the tantalizing sight of naked, wet Justin inside the shower enclosure. Brian couldn’t stop. He couldn’t slow down. He had to be there, touching that soft skin, rubbing the sleek blond hair against his face, feeling every inch of his body pressed against every inch of that perfect fair-skinned sylph. Oh, fuck yeah - this was definitely so worth it, Brian decided as he finally got his hands on Justin’s luscious body and indulged himself in the sheer bliss of touching all of that beautiful boy.

Justin was only startled by Brian's abrupt arrival for about as long as it took for Brian’s arms to wrap themselves around him, pulling his smaller body tightly back against the well-defined chest that Justin found so comforting and arousing at the same time. Once his body felt Brian’s touch, it was like all Justin’s worries and cares rinsed right away with the shower water. It felt so perfect, so right, to have Brian’s hands trailing and circling over his body, Brian’s mouth latched on and sucking at the sensitive spots on his neck and shoulders, Brian’s cock pressed hard against his back. Despite how short a time they’d been together, it seemed like every cell in Justin’s body already recognized every cell in Brian’s.

After all the tenseness of this long evening, the confrontation with Craig, the self-doubts each man had been suffering, there was nothing at all gentle or peaceful about their current actions. Their bodies knew what they needed and both men gratefully let their worried, distracted minds drift while the lust took over. It was precisely what was needed. It was going to be fast and hard and furious.

Brian used his body to pin Justin against the glass shower wall. One hand had already grappled around both Justin’s wrists and he was holding them against the top edge of the shower wall. The other hand was halfway done rolling a condom down his rock hard dick. His lips hadn’t left off nibbling and teasing at the tender skin along the pulse points of Justin’s neck for even a second. As soon as Brian was sheathed, he grabbed the bar of soap and rubbed it in a frenzy up and down the sweetest blond crack ever dreamt of while rutting constantly against the small of Justin’s back, almost desperate with the need.

“Brian, now. I need to feel you now,” Justin pleaded, unable to move much but still trying to push himself back against Brian, straining against the restraint provided by Brian’s hand and body trying to hold him still.

Brian was well beyond the point when he could form actual words, but he acknowledged Justin’s demand with a groan and dropped the soap. With his now free hand, Brian pushed Justin’s body even tighter against the glass, pulling his own hips back just enough so that his eager dick slid right down the well-lathered crack and unerringly found its intended target like a heat seeking missile. He dove into the welcoming heated depths with brutal speed and only felt satisfied when his balls slapped loudly against Justin’s ass.

Brian held himself still inside that perfect velvety warmth and arched backwards, letting his head fall back so that the warm shower water pelting on his face could drain away some of the madness he was feeling. Being with Justin was really too much sometimes. Brian had never felt such overwhelming possessiveness and a desire to mark this body, this man, as his own. It was worth anything to be able to take control of this perfect youth, to have his body under Brian’s control and to know that Justin would gladly surrender to him. It was that unexplainable primal drive that took over now and was unlikely to let him free until his claim on Justin was proven.

Justin was feeling just as raw and needy. He could hardly bear having Brian inside of him but unmoving. He wanted to be rammed against the shower wall so hard that he’d never again remember those self-doubts that had troubled him before. He was writhing in Brian’s solid grip, trying to break free and force himself harder against the force impaling him. After what felt like ages, Brian finally acceded to Justin’s needy pleas. He pulled out almost all the way, stopping only when the head of his cock was feeling the constrictive pressure of the tight ring of muscles around the rim, and then slammed back inside in one long, ruthless drive. Justin moaned with pleasure as ripples of electricity tore through him, lighting him on fire from inside his core.

Brian continued his wild pace. He was driving in deeper and deeper with each thrust, but still felt that he could never reach deep enough to sate himself. His need was bottomless. His pleasure was infinite. He just had to stay here, endlessly here, deep inside this wondrous man, Justin, and it would go on indefinitely.

Only it wasn’t that easy. with every thrust, the sensations built up a little more and a little more. Ripples of pleasure turned into little fires of toe-curling passion, and then met up with other little ripples and fires and they all built and built until Brian felt like he was hovering over the brink of a raging cauldron of fire that threatened to take over his entire body. It was impossible to back off. It was fucking addictive. He was driven on again and again even though he didn’t want to be - he never wanted this to end.

What was it that finally pushed both men past the point of no return? It was something very small and seemingly insignificant - just a matter of the flexing of one little muscle group - more a hint of movement than any real, tangible action. It was only the small tightening of Justin’s core muscles that accompanied one heartfelt sigh of pleasure. That was all it took. With a matching sigh, Brian fell through the ring of fire and exploded out the other side. Justin’s climax echoed Brian’s a heartbeat later and they both trembled through the exquisitely pleasurable seizures of their release.

“Fuck!” Brian groaned as he finally collapsed back against the other wall of the shower. “That’s so fucking worth it!”

Justin couldn’t actually speak yet, but he couldn’t agree more.

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

“Sorry, Brian, but if you really want to make your flight, we HAVE to leave right now. The airport is going to be jammed today,” Ted repeated for the twenty-seventh time while both Brian and Justin were calmly walking back and forth in the loft gathering up the last of their things. “The Sunday after New Years is well known to be the fifth busiest travel day of the year. The traffic is likely to be crazy. And you know how bad airport security is these days. You’re going to miss your flight.”

“Hold onto your debits and credits there, Bob Cratchet,” Brian drawled, purposely slowing down his pace even more just to annoy the accountant in Ted further. “I had my assistant get us both TSA Frequent Traveller passes so we get to shortcut security and we’re flying first class. If I wanted, I could make one phone call and the plane would wait for us,” Brian was exaggerating, but Ted was gullible enough that he actually believed him - it made Brian chuckle.

Justin rolled his eyes and shook his head at Brian’s obvious attempt to get Ted’s goat. Ted was so easy, it was truly laughable. But even Justin was beginning to wonder if they would actually make the flight at this point. As he passed by, he swatted Brian on the ass with a resounding *smack*, hopefully getting him moving just a bit faster.

“Where the fuck is my god damned toothbrush?” Brian finally gave up looking for it and looked accusingly at Justin. “I like that fucking toothbrush, Sunshine. If your furrball ate it, I’m going to be permanently pissed off at him.”

“I don’t think Winston appreciates it when you always accuse him of wrongdoing without any proof,” Justin returned prissily, scooping up his cat and depositing him in the already prepared travel carrier.

“Well, he eats condoms, sticky notes and everything else,” Brian stated truthfully, “What’s to stop him from eating dental supplies?”

“Brian? Is . . . is THAT the toothbrush you’re looking for?” Ted, who had been reduced to pacing back and forth in front of the door, said as he just then noticed the grungy looking old tennis shoe waiting next to the loft door.

Inside the disgustingly dirty looking old shoe, was what appeared to be a brand new, fancy, mechanical toothbrush with the bristles of the brush just barely visible poking out above the heel.

“Sunshine . . ." Brian moaned as he walked close enough to get a look at the travelling shoe that he’d been unable to locate up till now during their visit to the Pitts. “You owe me a new toothbrush,” Brian stated, his voice full of humor but with just an edge of annoyance, as he gingerly picked up the befouled toothbrush between two fingers and immediately deposited it in the trash can.

Brian took aim and then kicked the old shoe with one well placed shot clear across the room so that it landed with a little thud right at Justin’s feet.

“Get your shoe and let’s go home, Sunshine,” Brian ordered, picking up his own bag and marching out the door with Ted dogging his steps.

“Don’t worry, Winston,” Justin said as he picked up his shoe, shoved it into a pocket of his bag and then hoisted the cat’s carrier, following Brian and Ted out. “We’re wearing him down. Pretty soon, he’ll be the perfect boyfriend and a well-adjusted cat person. Just you wait and see.”

**Written with all due apologies to the victims and families of any of the recent, horrible, mass shooting events. I’m sorry that I’m taking humorous liberties with such tragic events. I happen to live very close to the Clackamas Town Center Mall, where we had a mass shooting event just a year prior to when I wrote this and I don’t want to demean anyone who suffered through that experience. Please accept this passage for what it is meant to be - just a funny little vignette about an over-reaction to Craig’s attack.

Chapter 30 - Return to New York.

Life seemed so great for both men for the first few days after they got back to NYC. They both felt so close. The time they’d spent together in Pittsburgh had strengthened their connection. Brian was feeling much more confident about this whole relationship thing, too. If he could handle being ‘Out and Proud’ about his boyfriend in front of the Liberty Avenue gang, then he could easily handle it back here in the relative obscurity of the big city.

Not only was his personal life solid, but being with Justin was doing wonderful things for Brian’s career as well. They’d spent most of the flight home working up a new marketing idea for a Pittsburgh company called Electric Owl Studios - a new technology firm that was spun off from CMU’s Entertainment Technology Center that makes interactive kiosks to entertain children while they wait at doctor’s offices. Brian had seen a blurb on the company in the local business magazine while they were waiting for their flight. After a little online research, Brian was assured this was the perfect company to benefit from his special approach. Kennedy & Collins already had several clients in the medical technology field so there was always the possibility of tie-in marketing with one of those bigger firms. As soon as Brian voiced his interest in the company and showed Justin the website, the young artist took off with the ideas. Before they’d landed in New York the two men had an entire campaign roughed out complete with some wonderful artwork from Justin that blended perfectly with the graphics used in the kiosks. Brian had presented the idea the following day to his boss - who’d loved the idea - and by the end of the week, Brian had signed the company as a new client. He was definitely the fastest rising star at Kennedy & Collins.

Justin, meanwhile, was over-the-moon with excitement at how well his artwork was being received by the critics at the advertising firm. He’d received another check for his freelance work on Electric Owl Studios which went a long way towards making him feel more secure financially. More important than the money, though, was the encouragement and inspiration he felt every time Brian showed interest in Justin’s work.

Outside of school, nobody had ever shown Justin that much support. Ever since he’d made the decision to leave Dartmouth and pursue a career in the desperately uncertain world of professional art, Justin had been on his own. His father had disowned him for taking that step. His mother, although less judgmental, had still cautioned her son against the decision because she worried he’d have a tough time. Daphne hadn’t judged him, but she wasn’t really a part of the art world, so her encouragement was a little empty. However, Brian WAS involved in the world of art every day and he really knew his stuff. Brian’s overt pride in Justin’s work did more than anything else to help bolster the young artist’s confidence and reassure him that his decision to concentrate on his art wasn’t the disaster that everyone else told him it would be.

All this happiness and satisfaction meant that the boys were still lying in bed late on Sunday morning, enjoying themselves, completely unprepared for their world to come to an abrupt change.

*Bounce, bounce, bounce . . . *

*Bounce, bounce, bounce . . .*

*Bounce, bounce, bounce . . .*

Brian put his hand down under the covers and held Justin’s bobbing head still for a moment. “Sunshine, I can’t concentrate on what you’re doing with your fuzzball making all that fucking noise. Can’t you DO something? It’s messing up the perfect blow job here!”

*Bounce, bounce, bounce . . .*

“I thought you’d be happy that Winston is keeping himself amused and out of our hair,” Justin teased, turtling his head up from beneath the duvet and smiling at the sounds coming from the front room.

*Bounce, bounce, bounce . . .*

“But it’s been going on for almost an hour. How long can he keep this up? It’s driving me bonkers, Sunshine,” Brian complained just as another *Bounce, bounce, bounce . . .* came echoing through the air.

Justin had to admit the repetitive bouncing noises were just a bit bothersome. Winston had apparently found one of those little plastic bouncy balls, the kind that were small enough that he could pick it up in his little furry mouth, and had come up with the idea of jumping up onto the top of the dining room table, dropping the ball so that it bounced across the table, down onto the seat of one of the chairs and then onto the floor. Winston would then chase madly after the ball, which was never allowed to completely escape, bat it around on the floor, pounce on, chew it a few times to make sure it had learned it’s lesson and then carry it back up to the top of the table to start the whole process over again. The *Bounce, bounce, bounce . . .* was the noise of the little ball cascading down off the table over and over and over again.

“Just ignore the cat, Brian. I’m sure that what I have planned should be enough to keep your attention for a few minutes,” Justin purred, throwing back the blankets and slowly trailing his tongue up Brian’s torso starting at his navel, leaving behind curly trails of saliva to decorate Brian’s beautiful taut tan skin.

Brian let the tickling sensation of Justin’s tongue lull him back into a more complacent mindframe and he settled back into the pillows, determined to block out the cat’s antics. It was going very well, too, for the first little while. Justin was engaged in nibbling his way slowly over to one hard brown little nub of a nipple, the cool air and wetness from his mouth causing Brian’s skin to stipple with delicious waves of tingly pleasure. The creative little artist found the spot he was looking for, but just teased Brian with a flicking tongue for several seconds before Brian’s groan told him he had the man’s full attention.

While sucking hard on Brian’s one nipple, he lightly tickled the other with his hand, barely touching the very tip of the delicate, highly sensitized skin and causing Brian to arch up into his hand, desperate for more. Sucking hard, Justin stretched out his body along the supple lengths of Brian’s long frame and reveled in the feeling of all that heated flesh coming into contact with his own. Every centimeter where their bodies touched vibrated with urgency and the need for more contact. The length of hardness pressed against his own crotch told him how clearly he had captivated Brian’s interest.

Justin finally felt safe and decided to work his way up towards Brian’s tempting raspberry red lips. He bit at the tender skin along the way, leaving pretty little red marks all along Brian’s collarbone and up his neck. Justin felt a tiny twinge of guilt at marking his man like this, but he hoped that the red would fade enough to be barely visible against Brian’s olive-toned skin by morning - if not, he was bound to hear a complaint or two from his image conscious companion. But, Brian just tasted so good, it was impossible to stop himself from indulging in every single nip, lick, and mouthful. Sometimes Justin felt that he could devour Brian whole.

When Justin pressed hard with his tongue against the pulse point at the crook between Brian’s neck and shoulder, Brian shuddered. They’d been together for such a short time, but already Justin knew almost every one of his most erogenous spots. Brian let the glow that Justin’s talented mouth started, radiate out through every hyped up neuron in his body. Somehow there seemed to be a direct link between that one spot on his neck and his leaking, steel hard cock. Brian pressed his aching dick against Justin’s own equally impressive stiffy, happily rutting away with sheer abandon, allowing the pulsing repetitive pressure to quickly grow between them.

Brian was so lost in the feelings that were coursing through him that he didn’t even hear the next *Bounce, bounce, bounce . . .* coming through the open bedroom door. However, as Justin started to reach towards the nightstand to grab a condom out of the nearby bowl, they both hear a muffled *thump* and then a very distinctive *MERRrrrrrrlll*. The growling cat noises didn’t abate, either. In fact, they were moving closer to the bedroom doorway. Not even Justin could ignore the hissing Winston at this point and he rolled off Brian, seriously worried that his cat was having a seizure or something. Maybe he swallowed the bouncy ball . . .

Just then a snarling and hissing cat, with all his pointy parts out and the hair on his arched back all standing on end, sidled into sight, framed by the doorway. He was standing there as if guarding the bedroom from some encroaching, rabid rodent, giving ground only grudgingly as something that clearly was unwelcome approached. Brian and Justin were now sitting up in bed, the duvet clutched to Justin’s chest, waiting with bated breath to see what evil thing had invaded their home.  

Finally, Winston had been pushed far enough. He plopped his furry behind down just inside the bedroom door, raised up on his haunches with one claw held up showing four long and very well sharpened talons. A heartbeat later, a menacing large shadowy form moved into sight in the hallway at the same moment that Winston let out a piercing, panther-like scream that made both men cringe, and launched himself at the threatening shadow with claws fully extended and kitty fangs bared!

“Shit! FUCK! OW, OW, OW, OW. GET IT OFF OF ME! FUCKING CAT!” came the screams of the unknown intruder.

Brian had already leapt out of bed, ready to run off to assist the fearless cat in defending their home from whatever menace was attacking. Of course, Brian was butt naked and armed only with an extra-large pump-top bottle of lube, but his brave spirit hadn’t really allowed him to take that into consideration when he made the split second decision to run to Winston’s aid. Justin was right behind his man, also naked but even less prepared to fight off the assailant, seeing as the only thing he had in his hands was an unopened condom packet. Justin did do the most helpful thing of all, though, flipping on the hallway light as he emerged from the bedroom.

As the light flooded the scene, Brian and Justin got a good look at the intruder, who was too busy trying to dislodge the guard-cat’s claws and teeth from his ankle to look up at the moment. The man who was unsuccessfully trying to fight off a very aggressive Winston was fairly tall, with light brown hair, a strongly formed chin with just a hint of a cleft and well-muscled upper body. The guy was wearing a silly little black mask that covered the area around his eyes but didn’t in any way disguise his identity. As soon as the light made it possible to identify the attacker, Justin froze in place, watching while first his cat and then his man took on the terrifying masked foe.

Justin looked on in horror as Winston finally got a good opening and clamped his teeth onto a vulnerable open piece of shin. At the exact same moment, Brian threw the heavy bottle of lube at the man, the pump-top exploding off upon impact and spraying the attacker everywhere with the finest quality lube available. Taken completely off guard, the invader fell backwards, landing on his rear as the dual team of Brian and Cat loomed over him, ready to strike again if he showed any further signs of aggression.

Justin, standing behind the advance forces, was trying to hold back his laughter. The man lying on the ground was looking up at all of them with a terrified expression, his arm half raised to try to fend off any possible attacks to his face. It appeared that the defenders had easily won the day and the apartment was going to remain a safe haven for the two lovebirds and their very protective cat.

“Justin?” the pathetic heap of invader on the floor pleaded when he eventually got a glimpse of the blond huddled against the wall trying to control his irreverent glee.

“Hey, Connor,” Justin managed to say with another chuckle. “Brian, I’d like to introduce my Ex - Connor James. Connor, this is Brian Kinney, and of course, you remember Winston?”

“Fucking cat . . .” the subdued invader mumbled as he rubbed at his bleeding ankle, and flinched again when the mere sound of his protesting voice caused Winston to take one more swipe at him with all claws extended.

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

Fifteen minutes later, once the boys had some pants on and Connor had put a bandage on his bloody ankle, they were all sitting around the table drinking coffee. Winston had been partially mollified - as soon as Connor had removed the stupid little black mask, the cat had allowed himself to be picked up and petted into submission. The furry little defender was currently perched on Brian’s knee. His claws had been put away but he was still emitting a continuous low growl from the back of his throat despite the calming hand Brian ran across his back every so often. The couple of times that Connor dared to look disdainfully over at the cat, Winston’s growling would kick up a notch or two, his hackles would rise and Brian would chuckle with pride at the brave feline who was obviously determined to keep this bad man away from his people.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Connor,” Justin finally asked, tired of the small talk bullshit that they’d been trying to fill the silence with up till now.

“The movie I was working on is . . . on hiatus,” Connor explained tentatively.

“I think that’s Hollywood-speak, Sunshine, for the movie was canned,” Brian interpreted with a Kinney sneer directed in Connor’s direction, his mocking tone triggering another vocalization from the attack cat in Brian’s lap.

“Brett said he was going to have his people shop it around to some other studios. Brett said that there was a good chance he could get another production company to pick it up. Brett’s going to call me as soon as he gets funding secured. It should only be a month or two and then we’ll be back on set,” Connor explained quickly.

“Brett said, huh?” Brian couldn’t resist teasing the obviously insecure actor. “And, if Brett said you’d be just perfect for the part if only you’d jump off a cliff first, you’d jump first and ask questions later, right?”

“Fuck you. Who are you anyway? What’s this loser doing in OUR apartment, Justin?”

“Our apartment? Maybe you should say ‘Dad’s Apartment’, Connor,” Justin replied with evident cynicism not to mention outright anger. “When you left two months ago, without any warning and only leaving me a note - I might add - your daddy was pretty quick to relet the apartment. Brian here is the legal resident according to his sublease with your dad. And it’s only because of Brian’s inherent kindness that I wasn’t thrown out on the streets when you left, by the way. Thanks so much for looking out for me and letting your dad know I was still living in the apartment when you left.”

“I . . . I didn’t know Dad would . . . I’m really sorry, Justin,” Connor stammered out a weak apology, blushing over the fact that he really hadn’t given Justin or the apartment even a second thought once he got called to L.A. for the movie part.

“Sorry is bullshit,” Brian added his opinion, easily seeing through the lame attempt at an apology.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now anyway,” Connor said, ignoring Brian as best he could and smiling possessively up at Justin. “I’m back now and I’ll just tell Dad I need the apartment back. He’ll deal with it. I’m just so glad to be back here with you again, Babe!”

Connor got up from his chair at the table and sinuously maneuvered around the table towards the spot where Justin was sitting. As soon as he was close enough, he leaned his ass against the edge of the table and reached one long arm down so he could trail a finger down the side of Justin’s face. He smiled down avariciously at the younger blond, curling his fingers around under Justin’s chin and squeezing his fingers slightly to emphasize his claim to the man. Justin stared up at the familiar face for about half a second without doing anything, then he jerked his head to the side, loosening himself from Connor’s grip.

Before anyone was aware what was happening, Brian was right there, his hand gripping onto Connor’s wrist with a painful strength and pulling the arm back away from Justin’s face. “I think it’s past time for you to leave,” Brian said in a quiet but intense tone that didn’t leave any room for argument. “What part of ‘legal resident’ did you not get? I’ve got a valid sublease on this apartment for one year. If your Daddy or anybody else tries to break my lease, I’ll fucking sue them till they’ve got nothing left but their last names. And, in the meantime, I think it’s time for YOU to LEAVE.”

Brian was slowly and without fanfare using his superior strength to bend Connor’s arm away from Justin, pulling until the man’s arm was stretched to the back and side at a painful angle. Connor appeared startled and unready for any confrontation with this unknown factor. He finally looked up at Brian and stared into the brunet’s eyes, which had already turned a darker brown with anger. This was not the homecoming that Connor had envisaged - not by a long shot. He had expected that Justin would be just sitting there waiting for him, overjoyed that his lover was back. Nowhere in his little fantasies had Connor pictured that there would be another man. What had Justin done - hopped right out of his bed and into this guy’s before the sheets were even cold? This didn’t sound like HIS Justin. Connor’s little Justin was unassuming, insecure and would never . . .

“I agree, Brian. I think it’s definitely time for Connor to leave,” Justin seconded the proposal, getting up from his seat on the dining chair and moving over to hold open the front door.

Connor wrested his arm out of Brian’s grasp, a look of sheer loathing beating down on the brunet who wisely let go without a struggle and held his hands up in a gesture of capitulation. Connor turned on his heel and reluctantly walked over towards the door where Justin was standing. Justin was looking down at the carpet, apparently unready to meet Connor’s gaze. Both Brian and Winston followed two paces behind Connor as the former resident retreated.

“I missed you, Babe,” Connor said, stopping before going through the door and reaching out again to touch his boyfriend. “Every fucking day I was in Los Angeles, I thought about only you. When I heard the movie was cancelled, all I could think about was getting back here to you. I’m not giving up on us, Babe. I can’t give up on us. I still want you and I won’t give up on this.”

Connor bent down and seized Justin around the waist before anyone had a chance to react. He pulled the younger blond tight against him and smashed his lips down against the voluptuous coral pink lips. Justin’s body reacted automatically at first, returning the kiss instinctively, his lips responding without conscious volition. It was so much like old times that Justin hardly even thought about it at first. But then, over Connor’s shoulder, Justin caught a glimpse of Brian’s pain filled countenance watching every second of the tumultuous kiss.

Justin instantly broke off contact, placing his hands against Connor’s chest and shoving as hard as he could in order to break off the kiss. Connor let himself be pushed back, smiling smugly even as Justin turned his head and pulled his lips away. He’d felt Justin’s body’s response to his presence. Connor knew that it wasn’t over yet. Justin was still his - or at least his body was still his, no matter how angry Justin might still be at his abrupt abandonment.

“Bye, Babe,” Connor whispered provocatively as he confidently stepped back and shuffled out the door, never breaking eye contact with Justin until the door was violently slammed shut in his face by an angry Brian Kinney.

Chapter 31 - A Comedy of Errors.

It was the third night this week that Connor was sitting in the living room when Brian got home from work. What part of ‘this is MY apartment now, get the FUCK out’ did the idiot not understand? And, perhaps more importantly, why the hell did Justin keep letting the sponger back in?

The loser had apparently capitulated on the issue of whether or not his father could ‘take care of’ Brian and his legally binding sublease. Brian hadn’t heard even one word from the elder Mr. James. However, this hadn’t stopped the cretin from pressing his claims of ownership to the voluptuous blond twink known as Justin Taylor. That stupid cheesy asshole had been coming on to Brian’s boyfriend pretty much nonstop since he showed up back in New York and Brian was beyond pissed off by this point.

*Giggle* As Brian turned to hang up his coat the asswipe leaned forward and whispered something into Justin's ear, causing peals of indecorous laughter to ring out and, at the same time, all the little hairs on the back of Brian's neck stood on end. Shit! Enough was fucking enough! Brian had had more than his fill of the cheesy interloper.

“Well, if it isn’t the famous Condor James. Again. Tell me, Condor, don’t you have a cliff-top lair somewhere in California to fall out of?” Brian snarked, purposely mistaking the man’s name. “I’m sure you have somewhere else to go and scavenge a meal or some attention.”

“Brian, please . . ." Justin cautioned, not at all happy that Brian was acting so ridiculously possessive. “Connor just stopped by to tell me about the new part he was auditioning for tomorrow. You don’t have to be so pissy.”

“Right . . . So, are you leaving anytime soon, Condor?” Brian pressed, moving closer so he would loom ominously over the pair on the couch. “Because I’ve had a long day and I’d like to take my boyfriend, Justin, to bed and fuck the shit out of him now, if you don’t mind leaving . . .”

“Brian! What the fuck?” Justin was livid at how rude Brian was being. “You don’t get to just announce you’re going to fuck me and expect me to lie back and comply.”

“Why, do you have to try to fit me into your tight social schedule or something,” Brian wasn’t happy about being rejected in front of the shithead interloper.

“Fuck off, Brian,” Justin bolted off the couch, grabbed his jacket off the designated hook by the door and was out of the apartment before Brian had a chance to double think his approach.

Connor unhurriedly got up off the couch, a huge shit-eating grin gracing his handsome face, and followed Justin out the door with a small, insouciant wave at Brian as he pulled the door closed behind him.

“Shit!” Brian exclaimed, cursing his ham-handed handling of the situation as he tossed his brief case onto the now empty couch and stalked off to his room.

Winston the cat sat perched on the tall back of the sofa and watched as the tall new person stomped away. He wasn’t sure what was going on around the apartment lately. His favorite person was acting upset, that old person that he’d never really liked much was back again and the new person - who Winston had decided was acceptable and welcome to stay - wasn’t sitting and petting him the way Winston liked. Things were not going right and it was messing up his usually comfy kitty life. Winston wasn’t the kind of cat to just sit back and let these silly people mess things up, though. He determined that it was time to use his pussy persuasiveness and get things back to normal.

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

Justin was so pissed off at Brian’s little cave man display that he didn’t even watch where he was going. How dare Brian assume that he could dictate who Justin could hang out with? And that little show about announcing that he intended to fuck Justin - like Brian could just order Justin into bed whenever he felt like it? If Brian’s intent had been to make him feel like a sex toy, then he’d succeeded perfectly.

Justin was still angry at Connor for the heartless way the man had up and left without anything other than a ‘Dear John’ letter. That didn’t mean that Justin didn’t still find Connor physically attractive. If anything, Connor was even more hunky now than before he’d left - according to the actor, he’d been spending hours in the gym trying to bulk up for the superhero role - which sort of also explained why he was wearing that stupid little mask thing the night he returned. But, Justin had absolutely no intention of starting up a relationship with the fickle man again. Justin had more self respect than that.

Still, he shouldn’t have to get Brian’s permission to merely talk to Connor. Brian should have more trust in Justin. What did the big brute think - that Justin would hop right back into Connor’s arms? This jealousy thing of Brian’s was stupid and sort of belittling. Justin was NOT going to put up with it. Brian needed to learn that Justin was a grown man who could be trusted. If Brian really did want some kind of committed relationship - which is what he’d said back in Pittsburgh - then he had to trust Justin to be committed as well. Brian’s complete lack of trust in their commitment felt like an insult.

*HONK*

The noise of a blaring taxi horn hit Justin at the same time as he felt his body being jerked backwards by a hand grabbing ahold of his arm.

“Whoa there, Baby,” Connor’s familiar voice, accompanied by the endearment that Justin always hated, broke through his reverie as he was pulled back away from the busy street he’d almost walked into without looking. “You don’t want to take on an NYC taxi, Jus - I think you’d probably lose and I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

Justin wanted to roll his eyes at the smarmy comment but it wouldn’t have done him much good as Connor James had already pulled him into a tight hug and his face was hidden in the folds of Connor’s jacket. Justin struggled in vain to push the much more muscular man away. Connor had the smaller blond wrapped securely in his bulging arms and was taking full advantage of the situation not only to hug but also to cop a quick feel or two; his hands straying to grope Justin’s sweet little bubble butt before the blond could get away.

“Connor! Connor, let me go,” Justin managed to get out a protest, although it was partially muffled by the way his face was being pressed into Connor’s chest. “Get the fuck off me, Connor, or I’m going to knee you in the nuts.”

“Oh, sorry, Baby,” Connor finally relented and loosened his grip on the small blond. “I got scared the way you almost walked right in front of that cab. You know I still care about you, Justin. I couldn’t stand to see you hurt.”

This time Justin didn’t even try to stop his eyes from rolling as he shook his head at the over-the-top cheesy reply. As soon as he could, Justin pushed Connor away from him and took two more steps to widen the distance. He hated being coddled even more than he hated Brian’s overt possessiveness.

“I’m fine, Connor. You don’t have to smother me,” Justin insisted and started to walk back towards the apartment. When Connor immediately began to follow along behind, Justin stopped and turned. “Connor, please. I need to talk to Brian and you being there right now won’t help things. Can I call you later?”

Without much grace, Connor conceded and let Justin walk away on his own. Now, Justin only had to come up with the right thing to say to quell Brian’s jealousy. Well, at least he had a few block’s walk in which to think of something.

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

Brian refused to just sit around and wait for the brat to wander back. If Justin really wanted that asinine wannabe actor, he could fucking have him. Brian wasn’t going to waste time waiting for Justin to choose which man he wanted. Fuck him! He’d never gone after anyone and he wasn’t about to start now. If Justin would rather spend his time with Condor fucking James, then Brian knew where he could find hundreds of other men who did want to spend time with him.

It only took Brian about five minutes to shed his work clothes and don a pair of skintight black leather pants accompanied by a sleeveless black silk button-down shirt. A little gel in his hair for that ‘Just Fucked’ look and he was out the door, ready to find a bit of action wherever he had to. He didn’t even notice the shocked look on the young blond’s face watching as he hailed and then got into a cab. Brian was already thinking about what kind of trick he’d prey on first as soon as he arrived at the club.

Justin, on the other hand, was dumbfounded. He’d been on his way back to the apartment to apologize to Brian and hopefully pacify the jealous beast. On the walk back to the apartment, after he’d cooled off, he’d had enough time to think and had decided that Brian’s reaction wasn’t totally off base. Justin knew that Brian wasn’t really quite as self-assured as he tried to appear. He was obviously threatened by Connor’s reappearance and Justin should have thought about how hard it would be on Brian for him to be seen hanging out with his Ex so much. Justin was prepared to grovel if needed - all he really wanted was to make up with Brian, end this pointless argument and take his man to bed.

So, when he rounded the corner of the apartment building and saw Brian getting into a cab, dressed to the nines in his standard clubbing attire, Justin wasn’t sure what to think. Then, after about thirty seconds, he knew what to think - he was pissed off! How dare Brian complain about him spending time with Connor if he was going to be off at the clubs! What a fucking hypocrite! Brian was the one who’d said he wanted this relationship. Justin had been willing to just go with the flow. And now, Brian had the gall to throw it all away for something as trivial as Justin spending time talking with his old friend? Well, fuck Brian Kinney. If that’s how Brian wanted it, Justin would be happy to play along.

Getting out his cell phone, Justin quickly scrolled down to the listing for Connor James. “Hey, Connor,” Justin said as soon as the line was answered. “I’m sorry about being so abrupt before. I really didn’t mean to just blow you off like that . . . Yeah, sorry. So, would you like to come back over to the apartment and talk some more . . . ?”

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

Brian hadn’t been at the bar more than fifteen minutes before he started to rethink what he was doing. Yeah, he’d been pissed to find Justin and Condor hanging out at the apartment again. But, they were just sitting on the couch. He figured he’d probably over-reacted. It’s just that that Condor guy was so clearly an asshole who had designs on his blond. That didn’t mean that Justin was interested though. Brian knew that what he and Justin had was good. He didn’t want to throw it all away. Granted, Brian hadn’t had any experience with the rush of extreme jealousy he felt when he walked into the apartment earlier - it was a brand new experience for him and so it wasn’t unexpected that he’d handled it badly. He didn’t want to really be here at this bar though. What Brian wanted was to be with Justin.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Brian dug his phone out of the pocket of his tight leather pants and pushed the speed dial number for the apartment. He quickly slammed back the remainder of his scotch and turned towards the exit. Brian didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say, just that he needed to hear Justin’s voice. He would figure out how to make it up to the boy somehow.

“Hello,” the not-so-dulcet tones of someone NOT Brian’s boyfriend answered the phone.

“Where the fuck is Justin,” Brian spat into the phone, incensed beyond belief that Condor James was already BACK in his apartment.

“Justin is a little  . . . busy. . . right now. I don’t think he can CUM to the phone,” Connor purred seductively into the phone. “But, I’ll be sure to tell him you called, Bri. Did you want to leave a message?”

“Fuck you!” Brian shouted into the phone as he pushed his way out the door of the bar and then threw the bloody thing against the outside brick wall.

Fine! If Justin was too busy playing with Condor, then Brian would go out and play a little himself. Fuck Justin Taylor and his capricious ways. Brian knew there were uncountable other men out there who would kill to spend time with him. He wasn’t going to let some doey-eyed little blond use him. Brian Kinney didn’t need him. He didn’t need anyone.

It was early, but Brian didn’t care. He needed to get to a club and get his dick sucked now. Fuck relationships and boyfriends and little blonds with tight asses. It was pain management time.

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

“Did I hear the phone ring,” Justin asked as he came out of the bathroom, noting that Connor had two beers opened and was waiting for him on the couch already.

“It was just somebody trying to sell something,” Connor explained with a shrug, holding out a beer to the man he was determined to win back. “Why don’t you come join me and tell me what’s wrong, Baby.”

Justin accepted the beer and sat down on the far end of the couch. He really didn’t want to discuss Brian or his relationship with Connor. However, he needed Connor to stick around at least long enough for his plan to make Brian jealous to work. Luckily, Justin knew exactly which topic of conversation would keep Connor’s attention.

“So, Connor, earlier you were about to explain to me all about this new play you’re trying out for. Tell me all about it.”

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

It wasn’t very late, but Brian didn’t really want to be there. This club was just like any other gay nightclub he’d ever been to: The music was loud, the place smelled like sweaty men and sex, and the drinks were weak. None of the men he’d seen so far were even remotely fuckable. He wished now that he hadn’t come. Brian downed his fourth drink and was just about to leave when he saw a golden blond head bopping around out in the middle of the dance floor that caught his attention. He was drawn out towards the dance floor.

However, it only took a few steps before Brian got a clear view of the suspect blond and could see it wasn’t the blond he was looking for. Before he could retreat back to the safety of the bar, the blond saw him and beckoned with a seductive crook of his finger. The two shots he’d had earlier at the bar along with the four he’d swallowed in the half hour he’d been here were more than enough to lower Brian’s resistance. It was easy to let himself be lured out to the middle of the dance floor and the semi-attractive blond who obviously desired his company.

“Hey there, stud,” the blond tried to sound sultry, but to Brian’s ears it sounded completely false. “You are JUST what I’ve been waiting for all night. I’m going to make this evening the best you’ve ever fucking seen, big boy.”

Brian was so turned off by the simpering little weasel. All he wanted was to escape. The horrid little twat’s hands were already groping him all over. Brian tried to pull away, but there was someone dancing right behind him and on both sides. There was nowhere for him to go unless he wanted to fight his way through the throngs. Meanwhile, the blond was clinging to him even more tightly.

“I think you’re ready to party, aren’t you, Big Guy,” the leering boy purred at him as he dug in his jeans pocket for something.

Popping a tab of something onto his tongue, the young man lunged at Brian, attacking his mouth and not so subtly leaving behind whatever it was along with a lot of spit in Brian’s mouth. Brian wasn’t even close to being drunk, but his alcohol consumption so far had been enough to slow his reactions just enough that he didn’t manage to stop the lascivious blond’s advances in time. And, before he knew what he was doing, he’d swallowed whatever it was. The clingy blond was all over him. Brian felt the sinuous hands already snaking their way up under his shirt and a hot, hard pelvis grinding into him. The warm mouth that was seemingly suckered to his own, along with the thrusting tongue, was distracting. The kid was like a fucking octopus - his hands seemingly everywhere at once. By the time he felt one of those hands forcing it’s way down the back of his snug leather pants, Brian was already starting to feel the first effects of whatever drug he’d been given. And, before he knew it, it was all just a blur of groping hands, hot wet mouths and pure unadulterated, pulsing need.

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

It was almost midnight. Justin was exhausted and just wanted Connor to leave. However, he was prepared to hold out a little longer - he wanted to prove a point to Brian and that meant that Connor needed to be here at least until his wandering boyfriend got home. Justin managed to stifle a yawn as Connor started into his second full hour of talking about himself.

After a couple more minutes of Connor’s bragging, Justin was about to call it a night and give up on Brian’s lesson. But, just as the young artist was about to stand up and announce that it was time for Connor to leave, he heard the elevator stop outside the apartment door and then some keys jingling and finally the lock turning. Justin quickly jumped up from where he’d been sitting and moved so that he was snugged up right next to Connor. As the door swung open, Justin flung his arm over Connor’s shoulders and positioned himself so he was staring into the murky grey-blue eyes.

*Snort, giggle, giggle, snort*

The door slammed open so hard it bumped against the edge of the desk as two drunken, carousing men stumbled into the apartment, almost falling over each other in the process. The undignified snorting was apparently coming from one Brian Kinney. The nerve-grating giggles were coming from a young blond who seemed to be so closely wrapped around the taller brunet that it would be difficult to get even a paper-thin wafer between their two bodies. Neither man seemed to even notice the shocked looks of the two people sitting on the sofa watching as the pair lumbered inside and made their noisy way down the hall towards Brian’s bedroom.

About twenty seconds later, while Justin was still reeling from the little exhibition he’d just witnessed, the all-too-familiar noises of Brian making another conquest started to drift down the hallway.

“Oh, yeah! Oh Fuck, yeah. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck ME!”

Chapter 32 - Two Prima Donnas.

The brilliant morning sun coming through the window of his bedroom woke Brian up. Well, that and the pounding headache, the dry mouth that felt like it had been coated throughout with several layers of cotton lint and the queasy feeling in his stomach. Brian briefly toyed with the idea of trying to remember what he’d done the night before to incur such a wretched hangover, but then decided he’d rather NOT know. Instead, he just rolled over, determined to try to go back to sleep until the worst of the symptoms had abated.

In the process of rolling over, though, Brian rolled right into another warm body. Through barely slitted eyes, Brian caught a glimpse of blond hair. With a huge smile on his lips, Brian wriggled over closer to his bedmate and enveloped the toasty body in his arms. He figured if he had to have a killer headache, lying in bed with his beautiful blond was the way to do it.

“Justin,” Brian murmured into the mop of golden hair, burying his nose into the thick tresses.

The body hidden by the bed covers squirmed enough so that it was snuggled up as close as possible to Brian, a voluptuous ass pressing firmly against Brian’s groin. Brian grinned even through his doozy of a hangover, reveling in the silky warmth of the soft curves. He sighed with pleasure. This was definitely the only way to survive the morning after an overindulgent night before.

“Oh, Baby. That feels so good,” came a disembodied voice from under the blankets.

Brian’s eyes burst fully open. That was NOT the voice that he should have heard. He’d expected the low throaty whisper of a sleepy Sunshine. Not, a rather high pitched nasally yammering from someone who was definitely not his Sunshine.

In spite of his nasty hangover, Brian practically jumped out of the bed and chucked aside the blankets that were masking the body hiding in his bed, revealing a blond-haired twink of unknown origins.

“Who the FUCK are you?” Brian demanded, his own voice about two stunned octaves higher than normal.

“I’ll be whoever you want me to be as long as you keep on fucking me the way you did last night, Baby,” said a glowing visaged, twenty-something, blond twink that Brian didn’t remember ever seeing before.

The twink in question had a huge-assed grin on his not that attractive face. He had rolled over onto his back when Brian pulled off the covers and was now lying spread eagle across the expanse of the bed. The guy was buck naked and trying to appear seductive by leering up at Brian and slowly stroking his rather insignificant dick. He was also way too skinny with no muscle definition and, other than the golden blond hair that reminded him of Justin, really had no other attractive qualities as far as Brian could see. This guy was not really what he'd normally classify as 'fuckable'. He had no idea how he’d managed to end up in bed with such a gnarly little troll.

“Play time’s over. Get the fuck out!” Brian insisted, glaring at his unwelcome guest and pointing emphatically at the door.

“But . . . I really don’t mind staying, Baby. You’ve got to be the best fuck I’ve ever had. And you were so . . . so sweet last night. I thought we had something . . .” the twink pleaded, obviously confused by the change in reaction he was getting from the man who’d been so tender and solicitous the night before.

“You fucking thought wrong. Now get lost and don’t let the fucking door knock you on the ass on your way out,” Brian again demanded, picking up some clothes he didn’t recognize off the floor and tossing them at the dejected twink who was now scrambling to get out of the bed and dressed at the same time.

“Why are the best fucks always the biggest assholes,” the weepy twink shot back at Brian as he fled, trotting down the hall towards the front door.

Brian sighed with relief as he heard the apartment door open and then close. He rubbed at his face with both hands and groaned as his head throbbed again even more painfully. His head hurt too much to think, even though he suspected that he had a lot he’d need to figure out this morning. However, everything about the night before, and even a little bit about this morning was still too hazy to make sense of. Figuring that he’d do better after a dozen aspirin and a long hot shower, Brian shuffled down the hall to the bathroom.

It was halfway through a relaxing and very hot shower, before Brian’s brain finally kicked in and he started getting vague flashes of memories from the previous night. He remembered coming home from work and finding Justin and The Con-Man sitting together all palsy-walsy on the couch. He remembered heading out to a club. He even had a few vague memories of dancing and drinking way too much. He also remembered cruising the blond-headed twink but after that it all got very very confused.

Brian picked up the bottle of his favorite shampoo and started working it into his hair. The aspirin seemed to have kicked in and his headache had now died down to a dull ache. Brian was luxuriating in the hot water. He let his head drop back and enjoyed the feel of the water sluicing over him, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. He was feeling so much better. He let his mind drift and just concentrated on the pleasantness of being clean and no longer in pain.

Which was clearly the wrong thing to have done. His wandering mind, of it’s own volition, rapidly drifted onto the scene from this morning with the reluctant twink. Brian groaned aloud, wondering what stupid, lesbionic shit he must have spouted while he was fucked up out of his mind to have instilled in the twink an impression that he was ‘sweet’. It was completely out of character for him. And he must have really been out of it to have let the lout stay the whole night. He rarely sunk that low. Justin would be having a tizzy-fit if he knew the guy stayed the night. Well, at least Justin hadn’t woken him up at the crack of dawn with some god-awful noise or some other shenanigans. . .

“FUCK!” Brian’s eyes popped open instantly. “Justin . . . Oh, fuck! I’m in soooo fucking much trouble. . ." Brian whimpered at the mere thought of confronting his certain-to-be-irate boyfriend. He knew that being drunk and drugged out of his mind wasn’t going to be a good enough excuse for Justin. Digging through his memory, he thought he even remembered Justin and Condor being there when he came in with the trick late last night and the look of stunned betrayal that he’d glimpsed in his boyfriend’s eyes.

“This is bad. This is very, very, very, very bad. This is SOOOOO very bad,” Brian moaned, momentarily paralysed with dread at the thought of losing Justin over something as stupid as getting snot-puking drunk and picking up a trick then rubbing Justin’s face in it by bringing the guy home.

Brian was on the edge of panic. His already nauseated stomach clenched painfully and he had to hold on to the shower door handle to keep himself from falling to his knees from the pain and the shame he was feeling. Instead, he quickly turned off the water and dried himself off, thinking furiously of all the ways he could make it up to Justin. He knew he was going to have to fucking beg and plead and grovel to get his Sunshine back after what he’d just done. He knew he would do whatever it took. But, first, he was going to fucking murder that meddling Con-Man James. If HE hadn’t come back into the picture Brian and Justin would have still been happy and content and there wouldn’t be any reason for him to be afraid to leave his own bathroom.

Taking several deep breaths, Brian tried to psych himself up for the task of confronting his probably incensed blond boy. It took a lot more effort to stand up to a slightly-built blond youth with a serious temper than Brian would have ever thought possible. He knew this whole fiasco was totally his fault, though, so he was going to have to buck up and make the first move. However, he wasn’t prepared to do it without a little basic protection - he decided to creep back to his room and arm himself with clothing before he tried to approach the little blond spitfire he knew would be waiting for him.

Fifteen minutes later, adorned in his favorite tight designer jeans and a form fitting cashmere sweater that showed off his well toned chest, Brian thought he might finally be ready to confront the tasmanian devil-boy that was most likely waiting to chastise him. He looked himself over in the mirror one last time, wanting to make as good an impression as possible. His hair was perfect, his clothing was stylish and made him look sexy. He wasn’t wearing any shoes though. Normally, Brian would prefer to stay barefoot in the apartment, but this was a special situation. He didn’t know how things would turn out and he might have to run for it if objects started flying at his face. He decided that he needed to put on shoes so that he was fully prepared, just in case.

Opening up his already ajar closet, Brian’s eyes quickly alighted on his favorite pair of Prada boots sitting on the floor right in front of the shoe rack. He figured those would go perfectly with his casual outfit. He knew that washing up and dressing nicely wasn’t going to help much when it came to apologizing to Justin, but it couldn’t hurt. He grabbed the boots and went back to sit on the edge of his bed in order to put them on.

Just as Brian picked up the first boot, the door to his bedroom popped open and a big sleek furry grey cat edged his way into the room, somehow managing to open the door that Brian thought he’d closed securely. How, exactly, that cat managed to open closed doors, Brian would never know. He figured it was some kind of special ‘pussy power’ that he’d never comprehend. Winston ambled over to the middle of the floor where he could get a nice view of the shoe-donning ceremony and watched the proceedings patiently with only the tiniest glimpse of a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“What are you looking at, Fuzzball?” Brian said, a little freaked out by the overt attention he was getting from the too-intelligent beast.

Winston only rumbled a little discordant grumble at him but didn’t turn away from his contemplation of the scene. Brian didn’t know what to think, but he decided to just ignore the creepy creature and get on with things, ready to face whatever punishment awaited him in order to make amends. He picked up his right boot and slid it on. The toe was a bit scuffed, so he buffed it against the back of his jeans leg before moving on to the other shoe. Then, as he was bending down to reach for the second boot, Brian noticed the cat inching closer. He didn’t understand the glint of . . . he didn’t know what, in the critter’s eyes, but he didn’t really like it.

Keeping a close eye on the possibly hostile cat, Brian slipped his foot into the remaining boot without really looking at it. However, before his foot was even halfway in, he felt something wet and smooshy against his toes. His boots were not supposed to be wet or smooshy inside. Brian immediately withdrew his offended foot, noting that his toes were covered in some unknown slimy grey-green gook. Trying his best to control the gagging sensation that tried to overwhelm him, Brian looked down into the opening of the boot and saw the most disgusting mass of foul smelling hairy brown muck he’d ever seen occupying the insides of his shoe. Rushing quickly to the bathroom, Brian emptied out the disgusting contents of his boot into the tub, horrified at the sight that met him as he examined the dreck that had touched his bare skin.

Looking down at the two inch plus log of hair mixed with brownish lumps and greenish goopy bile that he’d just dumped out of his shoe, Brian couldn’t help but gag repeatedly from both the sight and the smell. It was the single-most foul thing Brian had ever seen in his entire life. “Fuck! Where did that shit come from?” Brian whined as he backed away from the disgusting sight, fighting back against the urge to hurl.

Brian tossed the infected boot into the garbage can, knowing that no matter what cleaning it was subjected to, he could NEVER put that shoe back on his foot. He quickly pulled off the matching boot and then hustled over to the bathtub to rinse any remaining gunk off his foot, making sure to scrub the contaminated appendage well with the bar of soap, washing his foot at least five times before he was satisfied that he was no longer at risk of contagion.

All the while this epic tragedy was going on, the Fuzzball responsible had been watching the funny little spectacle his new person was creating. Humans were so ridiculous. If pussy cats could laugh, Winston would be rolling on the ground giggling his furry little heart out at all the funny faces and the overall fuss the person was making over a silly little hairball. What a whimp!

As Brian retreated with haste from the foulness that was still sitting there in the tub, he accidentally stepped on the tail of the gloating kitty, who was not at all amused by having his tail and his feline dignity so utterly violated. Winston immediately let out a yowling, hissing caterwaul that scared an unsuspecting Brian, causing the human to jump forward, landing in the tub right back on top of the dreaded hairball. Brian whimpered at the unwelcomed renewed contact with the horrid yuckiness, which was again touching his bare skin. The man instantly hopped out of the tub, twice as fast as he’d hopped in. Winston continued to sit and gloat with occasional rumbling grumbles of kitty displeasure as Brian once again washed off his feet, scrubbing at them with renewed vigor as he tried to remove the gooey taint of smelly icky gloop.

Forgetting for the moment that he was still in trouble, Brian rushed out of the bathroom and ran down the hall, intending to seek consolation from Justin for the defilement of his Prada boots by the evil Fuzz Beast. “Justin! Your fucking cat did something foul in my favorite Prada boots. I’m going to have to throw them away. What the hell is with your damned Fuzz Ball anyway,” Brian whined as he sought out comfort from his usually sympathetic boyfriend.

As soon as Brian reached the main room, though, he was immediately reminded that his boyfriend was still, with good reason, rather angry with him after his shenanigans the previous night. The lovely tableau that was waiting for him in the middle of the living room was prime evidence of Justin’s current state of mind. In fact, from the look of things, saying that Justin was angry at him was an enormous understatement. Words like furious, enraged, incensed, livid and ape-shit over-the-top freakin’ pissed off, all came to mind as Brian stared at the hostile display that Justin had left for him.

In the middle of the living room area, where the coffee table usually stood, Justin had set up his easel. On the easel was a large canvas. The painting was vividly colorful - the background consisted of swirling masses of bright primary colors blended together to cover the entire canvas. On top of that base layer, Justin had used a particularly messy type of splatter technique that seemingly required massive amounts of paint being flung vigorously at not only the canvas but also all over the drop cloth beneath. However the crowning touch to this masterpiece had to be the big black lettering that spanned the entire surface that conveyed the simple message that the painting was designed to impart to the viewer - FUCK YOU!!!!!

And, as if the overt message could in some way be missed by the viewer in question, namely Brian Kinney, then one look at the particular ‘Drop Cloth’ that Justin had employed would set the observer straight. You see, Justin had opted not to use his normal plastic painting tarp. No. This painting needed a special touch. It needed something far classier than some random piece of already spotted plastic. This jewel of the visual arts deserved a designer label for it’s drop cloth.

“Noooooooooooooo!” Brian cried out as he finally realized exactly what Justin had decided to use to sop up the massive puddles of paint. “Oh, Justin, noooooo. Not my favorite midnight blue pinstripe Armani suit. Noooooooo,” Brian sobbed, dropping to his knees at the edge of the paint strewn fabric, mourning his loss and desperately trying to ascertain if there was any way to save his precious designer suit.

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

“Can you fucking believe it? How could he do that? It was only a few weeks ago that that asshole was practically on his knees professing that he only wanted me and that he was ready to take a relationship seriously. Then he brings a fucking trick to our apartment? He’s such an asshole! A fuckknocker! A . . . a . . . a . . . I’m too angry to even think up an insulting name that’s bad enough,” Justin said, now well into his second hour of non-stop ranting to his best friend, Daphne. “I mean, where does he get off bringing a fucking trick to our home? And the way he just paraded him through the room in front of me. I don’t give a damn that he has a fucking lease - it was my apartment first, before he barged in and ruined my whole life . . .”

Daphne just sat there patiently, like a good friend would, waiting until Justin finally wound down. After a full twenty minutes more though, it didn’t seem like Justin was ever going to run out of nasty names to call his room mate and sometime lover. Also, it appeared that Justin was able to talk endlessly without ever needing to stop to take a breath. No matter how patient Daphne was, it didn’t look like she’d ever be able to get a word in edgewise. It was time to take drastic measures.

“STOP!” Daphne hollered at the top of her lungs, her wail finally enough to grab Justin’s attention enough to stall his ranting. “Justin, I think I get the picture. Now, do you want any actual advice or do you just want to go on raving indefinitely? Because, if that’s the case, I’m going to put in my earplugs and surreptitiously play ‘Angry Birds’ on my phone while you repeat yourself for the ten thousandth time.”

Justin was momentarily struck dumb by this announcement. He was not only hurt that his best friend would dismiss his pain so flippantly, but he was also offended that she didn’t seem as affronted by Brian’s behavior as she should. Luckily Justin’s momentary outrage gave Daphne just enough time to take control of the situation. Before Justin had thought up an appropriate reprimand for his unappreciative friend, Daphne had jumped up off the couch, grabbed Justin by his shoulders and pushed the young man down into her former spot.

“You want to know what I think?” Daphne started off on her own mini-rant. “I think you two are acting like ridiculous, ***silly men - no, wait, you’re not even responsible enough to be called men, you’re boys - trying to get each other jealous rather than talking about what’s bothering you. It’s time for both of you to grow up and start acting like adults in an adult relationship rather than pouty children.”

“What the fuck, Daphne . . ." Justin irately tried to interrupt the lecture he could already see was coming.

“Quiet, you! You’ve had your say for the past two plus hours. It’s my turn to talk so just sit there and listen,” Daphne said, pointing her finger at Justin with a dreadful frown that reminded him a little too much of his mother. “The way I see things is like this; we’re talking about Brian Kinney here, and he’s definitely a special case. Ah, ah, ah, ah,” Daphne held up her hand to stop Justin’s incipient retort at the very idea of giving Brian any leniency.

“Justin, you know as well as I do that up until a little more than a month ago Brian Kinney was a self-professed slut who didn’t believe in love or relationships. I mean, you said yourself that he has absolutely NO prior experience being in a relationship. And yet, in a remarkably short period of time after meeting you, the self-same slut fell head over heels in love with you to the point that he was willing to change his entire life. The man who could barely SAY the word ‘Boyfriend’ just got finished making this huge gesture by taking you with him to visit his family, he introduced you to everyone he knew as his fucking ‘Boyfriend’ and then proceeded to even stand up to your homophobic prick of a father. For a guy who never had an adult relationship before in his life, he seemed pretty gung-ho on the concept.”

“Yeah, but then why . . ." Justin tried to refute Daphne’s impeccable logic.

“I’m still talking!” Daphne sniped and then returned to her previous train of thought. “So, here’s this very inexperienced man - and when I say inexperienced I mean in terms of boyfriendness - who’s still new to the entire concept of a relationship, and who’s now confronted by his first ever face-to-face with that age-old foe of all relationships: Jealousy!

“What the fuck does Brian have to be jealous about. He’s the one who brought the trick into our house. I’m the only one who has a right to be jealous,” Justin insisted.

“Justin, I can’t believe how blind you are sometimes,” Daphne shook her head with exasperation. “You don’t think Connor, your ex-boyfriend - someone you dated for more than a year and even lived with - showing up in his apartment in the middle of the night and assuming that he’ll just hop right back in bed with you isn’t enough to make Brian jealous? What are you, stupid? You even admitted that you kissed him back that first night, in front of Brian! And, then, if that wasn’t bad enough, you keep inviting Connor over to hang out all week. Brian comes home how many nights this past week and finds you and Connor together? And you don’t think he’s even a little bit justified in feeling a tad insecure about this new development?”

“I think Brian was actually being quite restrained. If it was me and I found my boyfriend hanging out with some old flame, I would have kicked the bitch’s ass out the first fucking night and ordered her to never come near my boyfriend again. The mere fact that Brian didn’t kick Connor’s ass that first night he broke into your apartment was a fucking miracle. You didn’t help things by allowing Connor to come over and hang around all the time, Justin. By the way, you seem completely ignorant of the fact that Connor’s motives in sticking around are far from altruistic. He doesn’t want to be your ‘friend’, Justin. I saw the way he was leering at you the other day when I popped in to visit. I’m sure Brian’s seen it too. Just because you haven’t caught on yet, doesn’t mean that Brian isn’t aware of the type of shit Connor is capable of. So, of course, Brian’s going to eventually lose it and start a pissing contest - it was fucking inevitable.”

“So, after a whole week of putting up with Connor, when Brian can’t help himself and acts a little possessive, you have the fucking gall to walk out on him? Just because you’re young doesn’t give you the right to act so clueless, Justin. Instead of getting pissed at Brian and walking out on him, why the hell didn’t you tell Connor to get lost and talk to Brian. Try to ease his insecurities? Explain to him that you have no interest in Connor at all? Reassure your fucking boyfriend a little? If you ask me, you reacted like a spoiled little brat. Or maybe more like a bloody prick. And, after you leave, Connor goes after you to console you? Talk about adding insult to injury. I’m not saying that Brian didn’t act like an idiot too, but he’s the one that’s new to this relationship shit. You’re not. And your reaction was pretty insensitive. I mean, how did you expect Brian to act? I would be hurt too if I was in Brian’s shoes.”

Daphne’s words were having exactly the right effect on Justin. He’d been so hurt he hadn’t taken the time to think through things from Brian’s point of view. This time when Daphne paused in her little tirade, Justin didn’t try to interrupt.

“Now, all that being said, I agree that Brian was a complete jerk to bring home a trick in retaliation just because he was jealous of Connor. Although, I’m not entirely convinced that’s the whole story. You said he was completely drunk out of his mind when he got home last night. He probably didn’t even know what the fuck he was doing. No matter how jealous Brian was, I don’t think he’s the type to do something so spiteful on purpose. At least not to you - I’ve seen how he looks at you and that man has it bad for his ‘Sunshine’,” Daphne winked at Justin, trying to take some of the sting out of her words.

“Now, instead of sitting here wailing about how wronged you’ve been, princess, I think you should get your ass home and try talking to Brian. That IS what two adults in a relationship would do. If you’re not willing to even try and communicate, then I’d say there probably isn’t any real love between you and you’re just two people who live together and have great sex but you’re not ready for a real relationship. People who are in a relationship care about each other’s feelings. They talk when one or the other is feeling hurt or insecure and they don’t go off acting like Prima Donna’s when there’s a bump or two in their path.”

Justin looked up at his best friend with a sheepish look, finally acknowledging to himself that he might have had at least a little part in the mess he and Brian had landed in.

“Justin, go home,” Daphne insisted once again, this time pulling him up off the couch by his arm and leading him towards the door. When Justin seemed still reluctant, Daphne shoved him with a bit more oomph out into the hallway. “You better fix this, Justin, or both you and Brian will regret it. Besides, I'm really worried about Winston. If you two break up he’ll be like a child of divorced parents. Poor guy. He doesn’t deserve that shit. Now, go!”

Chapter 33 - Let Loose the Pussycat of War!

Except for the slamming of doors, the angry stomping of feet and the sound of the occasional exasperated sigh, the apartment had been perfectly silent for going on eight days now. That is if you discounted the almost continual noise of the vacuum cleaner running whenever Brian was home, as he valiantly strove to keep ahead of the prodigious mess making capabilities of his roommate. There was absolutely no conversation of any kind, though.

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

When Justin had finally returned to the apartment after venting to Daphne for hours, he found that the mess he’d left in the living room was all cleaned up. His ‘Fuck You’ masterpiece had been removed, and he later found it propped up on his pillow, the wet paint still dripping down onto the sheets and pillowcase of his bed. His easel was back in the corner of his bedroom where it belonged and there was no sign of the Armani painting tarp he’d been using. Brian’s bedroom door was firmly closed and Justin took that as a sign that now wasn’t really a good time to try and talk to Brian, even assuming Justin wanted to take Daph’s advice and try and make up.

Justin trudged off to his own room, unhappily getting into the lonely bed, not exactly happy to be sleeping alone again after getting used to being held in Brian’s arms most every night. Justin saw his cat, Winston, waiting in the doorway, seemingly confused about why his human was back in this room now instead of the room where the other human was pacing and grumbling. Justin walked over and picked up the cat, depositing him on the empty bed, consoling himself that at least he’d have something warm to cuddle up to tonight even if he wouldn’t have Brian. Apparently, though, Winston wasn’t feeling very lovey-dovey towards Justin tonight either. He only allowed Justin a couple of minutes of petting and then the flighty feline squirmed his way out of his human’s grip and sauntered off back towards the door to the other bedroom. He insolently meowed a few times outside the closed door, which was then opened just a crack and the cat sinuously bent around the doorframe on his way inside, before the door was quickly slammed shut again.

“Fine! Go ahead, you traitor,” Justin yelled at Winston through the closed door, feeling abandoned and lonely and even more angry at Brian for now turning his cat against him, before he retreated into his own room and slammed his own door shut.

Winston’s betrayal seemed to be the thing that set off an escalating and vicious circle of retaliatory actions between the two roommates, which started the very next morning.

Brian was, of course, up earlier and out the door for work before Justin was stirring. He paused as he passed the door of the spare room where Justin had slept, and momentarily thought about going in, kissing his blond awake and apologizing. His hand was even resting on the doorknob before his stubborn Irish pride got in the way and he talked himself out of it. Shaking his head and sighing deeply, Brian turned away and headed out the front door instead.

Justin’s first class this morning wasn’t until 9:30, so his alarm didn’t even go off before Brian was out the door. As he passed by Brian’s room, the door ajar so that he could easily see inside, Justin felt a tinge of regret that he hadn’t tried harder last night to make amends. But, as soon as he looked into the room and saw his traitorous cat lounging on Brian’s bed looking disdainfully down his little kitty nose at Justin, the young man instantly rallied. Brian was the one who started this shit. Justin didn’t need to feel guilty. Brian was the one who cheated and blew him off by bringing a trick home. And now his fucking cat was siding with the ‘enemy’? Well, Justin would show his erstwhile roomie exactly what he could expect after that kind of behaviour. If he thought ‘Little Justin’ was going to just roll over and take it, he was dead wrong. Justin was NOT a pushover. He’d show the big asshole!

By the time Justin left for school, the formerly pristine apartment was a total shambles. The young artist had taken pains to make things as untidy as he possibly could in the short amount of time he had that morning. He started with the bathroom - leaving puddles of water on the tile floor, wet towels draped over the tub and dangling in the pooling water, and shaving cream, razor stubble and other various personal care products smeared everywhere all over the mirror and the sink. The kitchen was no better. Justin intentionally left his breakfast dishes on the counter, with food strewn about at random as though he had repeatedly missed his bowl. In particular, he made sure that there was a gooey peanut-butter glooped knife waiting for Brian on the countertop - knowing that Brian hated the smell of the stuff and could barely stand to have a jar of the concoction in the apartment, let alone sitting there on the counter.

Justin left for school with a vindictive little smile on his face, wishing only that he didn’t have to work this evening so that he would be home to see the look on Brian’s face when he got home.

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

Brian had a for shit day at work and was ready to just collapse at home. He was also exhausted from not sleeping well the night before - although he wasn’t ready to admit aloud that he missed having Justin’s warm little twinky body next to him, he found he just couldn’t get comfortable and he kept waking up all night, somehow worried even in his sleep when he would roll over and not find Justin next to him where he belonged.

Brian was more than ready to end this stupid little spat, proceed with the glorious make-up sex and then forget all about the ridiculous argument. He was even willing to do something that was normally far outside his comfort zone - apologize - just so long as it meant they would stop fighting. As he neared the door of the small apartment, Brian was thinking that he couldn’t wait until Justin got home from work tonight so they could resolve everything and move on.

All those benevolent resolutions simply evaporated from his mind, however, the moment Brian opened the apartment door and saw the disarray that had once been his neat, tidy living room. Justin’s clothing was strewn everywhere, there were food wrappers and waste on the coffee table, on the couch, on the floor, even on the top of the television. Brian could tell it was more than just his roommate being a little messy, as was his usual habit. This was intentional. This was deliberate chaos. This was meant to piss him off. And it really, really did.

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

When Justin finally made it home from his job at the art store, a little after nine pm, he noticed immediately that the apartment had been thoroughly cleaned up. He felt a little bit bad about how over-the-top he’d been that morning. Yeah, he’d been angry at Brian, but as soon as he’d left for class, Justin had regretted being so petty. He knew that it probably took Brian hours to pick up after the huge mess he’d left. He didn’t really want to keep fighting and his actions were incredibly immature and childish. Justin knew it was time for him to stop acting like a spoiled brat, make up with Brian and apologize.

With that resolved in his mind, Justin felt so much better. He hopped into the shower and then dressed with care. He thought that maybe he would order some Thai food and have it ready when Brian got home. He made a quick run to the market on the corner and bought a bottle of red wine, figuring that it couldn’t hurt to help mellow Brian out a bit by getting him slightly tipsy. Then, he curled up on the couch with his sketchbook and waited for his man to get home.

Justin eventually dozed off. He was woken up several hours later by the noise of keys jangling in the lock on the front door, Brian's muted cursing when he apparently couldn't find the right key, and a strange thumping noise, like something was getting knocked against the wall out in the hallway. Justin sat up, ran his fingers through his hair and tried to look awake enough to greet his boyfriend.

"Mmmmm . . . Fuck, yeah!" The door came open suddenly and two only partially-clothed bodies fell through the opening, saved from falling to the floor only when one of them drunkenly grabbed ahold of the doorframe. "Hehehehe . . . " the Kinney 'Type B' trick giggled as Brian caught him just before he tumbled backwards. "My hero! Now, I want you to fuck me heroically, Stud. I want you to fuck me. All. Night. Long!"

Brian's only response was to growl as he pulled the tall, thin, dark-haired man back up to press against the length of his body so he could start ravaging the stranger's thin lips again.

Justin was shocked into a stunned silence. This just couldn't be happening AGAIN! Brian wouldn't do this to him, would he? Maybe he was just drunk out of his mind again and, like Daphne had said, didn't know what he was doing? Maybe Justin had pushed him just a little too far? Maybe . . .

Looking over the trick's shoulder, with a cold gleam in his eye that Justin hadn't thought Brian was even capable of, the tall beautiful man stared straight into his boyfriend's eyes as he deliberately unzipped his pants. He let them drop to the floor, shrugged off his already unbuttoned shirt and then walked over to the armchair across the coffee table from where Justin was sitting on the couch. Brian casually seated himself in the chair then pulled the salivating trick close enough to grab the guy's pants and yank them further down over his slim hips.

"Ride me," Brian ordered in a calm voice, clearly not inebriated so much that he didn't know exactly what he was doing.

"Fuck you, Brian," Justin hissed, running from the room before the trick could get into position.

Over the top of the trick's chorus of, "oh, yeah! Fuck me! Fuck me!" Brian heard Justin's bedroom door slamming shut and music being turned up loudly. Even as the trick was boisterously and enthusiastically riding his dick, Brian wondered what the hell he was doing. He'd made his point. He wasn't really even attracted to this stupid noisy skank. The guy had just been the easiest pick at the bar where he'd been sitting, trying to drink away his anger. Any interest he might have had in finishing this little masquerade died when he thought about the pain he'd seen in Justin's eyes. He'd caused that pain. It was enough to make anyone lose their hard on.

"Get the fuck out of here," Brian snarled, standing up and in the process knocking the trick unceremoniously to the floor.

"What the hell," the confused trick complained as Brian zipped up his pants and bent to pick up the trick's clothing off the floor.

"I said, get the fuck out," Brian ordered, tossing the clothing out into the hallway then roughly grappling the naked trick by the arm and flinging him out after the clothes.

"You fucking asshole . . ."

"Whatever," Brian kicked the door closed and cut off the whiny-assed trick's complaint in mid-wail.

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

Brian was expecting to be awakened by Justin early and rudely the next morning - it was Justin's usual M.O. when he'd screwed up. He was therefore surprised when his alarm went off at the normal time. Nonetheless, he cautiously opened up his bedroom door, still expecting some type of retribution. When he didn't immediately notice anything out of the ordinary, and there wasn't any sign of an angry, vengeful boyfriend, Brian breathed a huge sigh of relief. He quickly made his way towards the bathroom for a shower, hoping that he'd somehow escaped unscathed.

Of course that hope was dashed as soon as he entered the bathroom and saw the words 'Fuck you!' written all over the mirror, the shower surround and even on the walls in various shades of acrylic paint, saving cream, pen, pencil and marker.

Brian groaned. It seemed like this minor conflict had now escalated into all out war. He suspected it would be a war of attrition and that he would not like how it would end.

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

Over the course of the rest of the week, the two embattled roomies set about their separate campaigns to drive each other mad. Justin's favorite weapon was his exceptional ability to create disorder in a manner specifically calculated to cause the most annoyance possible to his OCD neatnik co-inhabitant.

Justin's capacity to make messes seemed to know no bounds. Clothing, trash and art supplies left everywhere was just the start. He left gross little piles of toenail clippings on the dining room table. Next came the trails of ground up cornflakes embedded in the carpet. Then there was the bag of chips opened from the bottom and left on the counter so that when Brian went to put the seemingly untouched bag away in the cupboard, it all dumped out everywhere.

Brian retaliated with his own best weapon - his overtly promiscuous tricking. Every night, the angry brunet would arrive home from work to a different mess that he had to clean up. His anger increased proportionally depending on the length of time it took him to restore order.

He got back at Justin by seeking out the most annoying, vocal, skanky tricks he could find and dragging them back to the apartment every single night. He'd usually make a show out of fucking them in whatever way he determined would most piss off Justin. What the young blond didn't know was that, as soon as Brian had driven him to retreat to his room with the music turned up to drown out any noise, Brian as often as not immediately kicked out the tricks.

As the tricking started to get to him more and more, Justin ramped up his offensive strategy. Now, instead of JUST being messy, he sought out more creative ways to push Brian's OCD buttons. One day, Justin went around the apartment and moved everything on every surface - the desk, the counters in the kitchen and bathrooms, the shelves in the main living area, even the things on Brian's bureau in his room - to the very edges of the furniture so they were just about to fall off. He secretly reveled in the groan of complaint that got out of Brian when he returned later that night.

Next, Justin removed all the labels off the canned goods that Brian had neatly arranged in the cupboards that first week after he'd arrived and mixed up all the cans so Brian couldn't tell what was in which can. He started to routinely take just one single bite out of his food, especially when eating fruit, and then leaving it sitting in out of the way places until it started to go bad, leaving Brian to play hide and seek with the rotting, noisome food. He figured his piece de resistance, though, was when he cut a slice of pizza out of the center of the pie and left the rest on the counter for Brian

After a virtual parade of tricks through the apartment, Brian accidentally found that the absolute best way to get on Justin's last nerve was to bring home tricks that looked more and more like Justin himself. The night he showed up with a slight young blond boy in tow, Justin actually screamed obscenities at Brian and his guest until they were forced to retreat into Brian's room. Brian made the trick sit quietly on his bed for more than a half hour while Justin ranted and stomped around in the apartment. As soon as Brian heard his roomie slam his bedroom door closed he snuck the blond youth back out with a satisfied, yet slightly guilty, feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The next morning Brian was completely amazed by the creative lengths Justin had gone to in retaliation. Somehow, Justin had managed to drill a hole sideways through a roll of toilet paper and then inserted it into the holder. He'd set up an entire army of gummy bears, gummy worms and various other 'gummy' creatures so that they were stuck to the walls, the countertops, the furniture, the television and computer screens and almost every other surface, marching along in groups or single file to Brian's utter horror.

As if all that wasn't bad enough, the discord amongst his people had driven even the cat, Winston, to his own brand of civil disobedience. The usually placid kitty was thoroughly annoyed at BOTH humans. He showed his disapproval by being extra grouchy - nipping at fingers that tried to pet him, sleeping on and consequently spreading his clingy grey fur over every piece of clothing he could find, and then scratching or digging in his claws more than strictly necessary when someone tried to move him. The reoccurrence of furballs in his footwear became so common that Brian was even starting to become inured to their grossness.

The final straw, though, came when Brian discovered that Justin had resorted to attacking his clothing once again. The night he came home to find Justin wearing HIS brand new Armani dress shirt while painting in the living room amid piles of the rest of Brian's designer clothing dumped all over the floor, Brian totally lost it. You could fuck up his home, make ridiculous, childish messes everywhere, but you did NOT fuck with Brian's clothes! Brian slapped the wet paint brush out of Justin's hand, ripped the now ruined shirt off the artist's back and then gathered up all his remaining clothes off the floor before retreating to his room.

Afterwards, Justin hid out in his own room for the rest of the night. Based on the vicious, almost feral look Brian had gotten in his eyes when he'd glared at Justin as he tore the shirt off him, Justin was pretty sure he'd just taken things one step too far. He knew that he wasn't going to like the consequences at all. It was probably best to just lay low for awhile, he thought.

Brian's retribution was swift, silent and thorough.

Justin didn't come out of his room until he heard Brian leave the next morning. He worriedly looked around as he emerged from hiding, not sure what he'd find. When, at first glance, it seemed he'd escaped unscathed, Justin sank down gratefully into the couch in relief. Since it was Sunday and Justin didn't have to be to work until afternoon, the boy took his time puttering about the apartment, eating a leisurely breakfast and doing some drawing before he finally realized how late it was and had to rush to get ready.

Justin was running so late that he jumped into the shower before the water even had time to heat up. Immersing his head under the spray with his eyes tightly closed, he let the water just run over him for a minute or two until it got warmer. Then, just as he was reaching over to the soap dish, Justin opened his eyes. He blinked a couple times, trying to clear his water-blurry vision to figure out why something didn't look right. His hand, the one now holding the soap, was colored bright pink for some strange reason. Looking down at the rest of his arm and then his body, he immediately noted that all of him was very, very pink. Taking a quick step backwards so he was out of the direct line of spray from the shower head, he groaned as he looked up and saw that the entire stream of water was a thick, dark pink color. Screaming, Justin jumped out of the shower and ran over to look into the mirror over the sink.

Sitting inconspicuously on the countertop, was an innocent looking paperboard box that was labeled 'Rit dye'. Looking back at him from the mirror was a young man whose once white-blond hair was now a lovely bright pink and whose skin was likewise painted in splotchy streams of permanent pink dye.

Brian was sitting on the couch reading a trade magazine later that evening, anxiously awaiting the unknown retribution he knew would be coming as a result of the little prank he’d pulled on Justin this morning. He knew that his trick had worked from the sight of the wet, pink-stained towels he found on the bathroom floor when he got home. He’d actually expected to suffer instant reprisal immediately upon coming into the apartment. The fact that, outside of a very messy bathroom with pink dye still dripping from the showerhead, there was nothing else waiting for him, made him even more nervous and worried. Justin was NOT the type to let something like getting dyed pink just pass without taking some action. Not knowing what the reaction would be, though, was killing Brian.

When he finally did hear the elevator stopping outside their door and then the sound of a key in the lock, Brian put his magazine down and sat up straighter, taking a deep breath and stoically resigning himself to his fate.

The door opened. An adorable pink-headed twink entered. Strangely enough, Brian couldn’t help thinking that Justin looked rather fetching with bright pink hair, all things considered. But the pink twink didn’t make eye contact with the twitchy nervous brunet at all. In fact, he didn’t acknowledge Brian’s existence in any way. He quietly and calmly came through the door, put his messenger bag on the nearby desk and walked determinedly to the back bedroom without saying a word.

“Shit! This is bad. This is very, VERY bad,” Brian mumbled to himself as soon as Justin had disappeared silently into his room.

Brian could deal with Angry Twink. He could deal with Yelling and Ranting and Raving Twink. He expected to be reamed out royally and was prepared for just that. He was not prepared for quiet, solemn, Brooding Twink. It was like having the proverbial knife blade hanging over his head, ready to drop at any moment, and the anticipation was so incredibly painful that he was sure the actual stroke of the metal would be easier to bear.

Unable to sit still any longer, Brian got up off the couch and started pacing the width of the little living room area. He could hear movement, doors and drawers opening and closing, in Justin’s room, but otherwise the whole apartment was eerily silent. “Yep, this is very, VERY bad,” he repeated again, wringing his hands as he continued to pace.

When the door to Justin’s room opened briefly, Brian spun around, ready to face whatever was coming. Unfortunately, Justin didn’t even bother looking Brian’s way as he serenely turned towards the bathroom. Less than five minutes later, Justin reemerged carrying a small toiletries case and went directly back into his room, pulling the door closed behind him once again.

Brian was now getting a very uneasy feeling about all this. Yes, he was still ticked off and even a little jealous about the whole Connor debacle. And Justin HAD spent the past week and a half deliberately trying to antagonize him with his calculated messiness. But Brian knew that his bringing tricks to the apartment in retaliation was beyond spiteful. Plus, the pink dye in the shower-head joke was probably going a bit too far. Okay, there was no ‘probably’ about it - Brian knew he’d taken it too far. He was acting like a total shit. He knew it. He KNEW it! He was terrible at all this relationship shit and just knew he was doomed to fail. He wished Justin would get it over with and start in with the yelling and screaming so then, maybe, he could apologize and make it all better. . .

Another agonizingly slow five minutes ticked by with no relief. Brian was a fucking nervous wreck - pacing, sweating, mumbling curses at himself for being such an unconscionable prick at the same time he was castigating Justin’s stubbornness. The waiting was agonizing. Why hadn’t Justin started yelling at him yet? Brian knew he deserved to be yelled at and it would be a huge relief if Justin would just put him out of his misery and start fucking yelling already!

Brian was not prepared for Justin coming out of his bedroom with a fully packed suitcase, his portfolio jammed full of what he assumed was art supplies and an overstuffed backpack. There was no yelling at all - which completely threw Brian. Justin silently proceeded into the living room, laying his bags down in front of the door and then going to the small closet nearby without saying one fucking word. He pointedly pulled down the hard-sided cat-carrier from the top shelf of the closet and then, without any further comment, walked into Brian’s room and came back with Winston tucked up under his arm.

Brian had no idea what to say. This was not the response he’d expected. In his experience, as dysfunctional as his own family life had been, there was ALWAYS yelling and arguing and fighting in any relationship. However, once the yelling was over, there would be a chance to make things better, right? Right?

As soon as the cat was stowed - complaining and meowing piteously as he was stuffed into the cage - Justin clicked the metal grate on the carrier closed and then started to gather up his other bags. He hadn’t said even one word the entire time he’d been back at the apartment. Brian was still too stunned to comment either. The only one with anything at all to say about the matter was Winston, who was yowling inside his carrier, completely dissatisfied with this specific chain of events.

Brian watched mutely as Justin fumbled to try and get the front door open without dropping his bags or the cat. The older man was feeling desperate. This couldn’t be happening. He didn’t want Justin to leave. Fuck that! Justin was supposed to get angry at him, they’d fight, they’d make up and all would be back to normal! He wasn’t supposed to LEAVE! Brian had to do something . . .

“Justin, wait,” Brian finally found his voice and moved to intercept the younger man before he could leave. “Why . . . What . . . Where are you going.”

Justin didn’t respond other than to huff a little scoffing sigh and shake his head. He juggled his bags just enough so that he could get his left hand free and started to reach for the doorknob. Brian quickly covered the few steps over to the door so that he was standing right behind Justin. He reached out to stall his departing lover by grabbing hold of Justin’s right shoulder.

Without even thinking about it, Justin reacted according to his long-time martial arts training. His right hand, which happened to be holding the handle of the hard plastic cat carrier, jerked backward almost automatically, causing the corner of the cat box to slam with precision and force directly into Brian’s nuts. Brian gasped, groaned in exquisite pain and then crumpled to the floor with his hands groping ineffectually at his mangled gonads.

“Goodbye, Brian,” Justin scoffed as he surveyed the writhing mass on the floor that had once been his lover.

Through the red haze of his remaining vision, Brian watched as Justin determinedly slammed the door shut behind him as he left.

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

It was too fucking cold out to be wandering around the city deep in thought. The temperature had dropped to just around freezing and the precipitation couldn’t figure out if it wanted to be rain or snow, so it just kept pelting down in semi-frozen globs of sleet. Brian’s trendy Armani wool jacket didn’t do much to keep the dripping cold from leaking down the back of his neck. The shitty weather wasn’t doing much to improve his shitty mood either. What the fuck did he expect from January in New York, though?

Brian had been walking around in the cold for hours now. It was still mid-day when he’d fled the apartment. He'd waited around, expecting to hear SOMETHING from Justin for two days after his former boyfriend had stormed out. He'd tried calling but the little twat wasn't taking his calls. Brian had even got desperate enough to leave several voice-mail messages on the twink's phone - he tried not to think too hard about how close to begging those messages probably came - and still Justin hadn't responded. So finally, after a completely unproductive morning at work, Brian had just given up, told his secretary he was taking the rest of the day off and rushed back to the apartment, determined to find some clue about where Justin had disappeared to.

After tearing up the entire apartment, Brian realized he still didn't have any idea where to find Justin. He assumed that the boy was most likely staying with Daphne, but Brian had never been to the little fag hag's apartment and didn't even know the address. He did find a phone number for her in Justin's remaining stuff, but the girl didn't answer her phone when he called. Knowing how loyal Daphne was, he figured that calling her to get help finding Justin was a lost cause anyway, so he quickly gave up on that idea.

When he couldn't take it anymore, Brian simply tore out of the apartment and practically ran down the street. Brian had no idea where to find Justin but he HAD to do something and sitting around inside wasn't going to get him anywhere. Maybe he'd try to find Justin at his school or at work. Anything was better than just sitting there worrying.

His original intention when he hit the streets had been to find the little twat and ring his fucking neck for making him so worried. However, since he was still too angry to think rationally, he just kept walking and fuming and mumbling to himself every so often about the ‘Fucking Princess’ and his disgusting ‘Fuzzball Cat’. Brian had covered more than fifteen long New York City blocks before he’d cooled down enough - both physically and emotionally - to move beyond being just raging mad. By that point the big black storm clouds that had been moving in from the northwest had blocked out the majority of the weak winter sunlight and the wind had picked up considerably. Was it the arrival of the grey skies that made him realize that his anger was a bit ill-aimed? Maybe Justin HAD started all this by letting Connor hang around and fawn all over him, but Brian knew that it wasn't all that black and white.

Justin really knew how to get to him, that was for sure, Brian thought. He knew he’d fucked up - fucked up big time - by bringing those tricks back to the apartment. And, even though that first trick had just been a drunken, drugged-out mistake that he couldn't even remember, Brian knew that was no excuse. He knew that there was no way Justin would let something like that slide. Justin had always had too much self-respect for that. He’d called Brian on the tricking every single time. Brian expected his roomie/lover to react to that aspect of his behavior. However, all the prior times, the reaction had been at least overlain with a veneer of humor. This time it WASN’T funny.

The messes in the apartment were bad enough, but his clothes. His CLOTHES! Brian still hadn't gotten over Justin using his favorite suit as a painting tarp. Then there was the cat's disgusting glop in his precious Prada boots and on top of everything, Justin painting in his Armani shirt . . . Justin had simply gone too fucking far this time. Nothing justified doing something like that to Armani - it was ARMANI for fuck’s sake. Not that the little princess would know Armani from Old Navy. . .

How the fuck had things escalated to this point so rapidly? It was only a few weeks ago that he and Justin had come back from Pittsburgh together, so happy and in love. Brian had thoroughly enjoyed doing all those coupley things, even though he'd freaked out a little sometimes. But, really, Brian had never felt happier than for those few weeks that he'd admitted to himself that he wanted to be with Justin.

Granted, this relationship stuff wasn't fucking easy. It involved far too much drama for Brian's taste. It was messy. And aggravating. And painful - as evidenced by his still rather tender balls. This kind of shit was exactly why he'd told himself for years and years that he would be better off NOT bothering with a relationship. He should be glad the twat was gone and out of his life. Right?

When you make being alone and not giving a shit your life’s philosophy what do you do when someone comes along and makes you see you are wasting your life and need to be loved?*** He'd tried, unsuccessfully, to fight it. He had tried to warn himself that it wouldn't work - that HE wasn't the type of guy that did love. But, then Justin had come along, turned his whole world upside down and made Brian doubt his long-held philosophy. And now it felt like it was too late to go back to how he'd been before Justin. He'd had a taste of that sweet, forbidden ambrosia - he'd allowed himself to experience love - and now he was hopelessly addicted.  

Unbidden, Brian got a flashback from those precious days right before Christmas when Justin had gone out of his way to show both him and Gus how fun life could be when you shared it with people you loved. Justin had made him feel so cherished - maybe for the first time in his life. Then he recalled the way Justin had stood up to Michael at Deb's wedding, protecting both him and his son physically and emotionally, and how fucking proud he'd been right at that moment. Fuck, even when the damn twink was annoying the shit out of him with his messes, the damn travelling sneakers, or whatever shenanigans he'd come up with, Brian had still revelled in the younger man's humor and joy in simply living.

Was Brian willing to give ANY of that up now that he'd had a chance to experience it? Why the hell would he even for a moment contemplate going back to being that tired, bored, lonely man. Fuck it! Brian did NOT want to be that person any more. He wanted to be loved. He wanted Justin. Yes, he'd screwed up pretty bad, but he would fix it. Brian would find Justin, apologize, fucking beg if he had to, but he would somehow get his Sunshine back.

Brian paused in his aimless wandering, standing on the curb at the edge of another nameless street, and smiled to himself with his new resolve. He was determined. He could do this. He would find Justin and let himself be loved. He was passionately fired up with a brand new sense of spirit.

"JUSTIN!" Brian yelled at the top of his lungs, looking up defiantly into the black sleet-filled sky. "I won't give up! Damn it, Justin, I fucking love you! And I WON'T give up!" Brian announced his determination to the almost deserted New York night, waving his fists at all the unseen enemies who might try to keep him away from his one true love.

Unfortunately, the driver of the black Mercedes sedan who was late for dinner with his in-laws, didn't hear Brian's heartfelt declaration. The driver didn't even notice the defiant figure standing on the curb ready to take on the world in his pursuit of true love. Which is probably why the Mercedes didn't slow down even a little bit as it sped through the puddle of freezing cold sleet which consequently splashed full force into Brian, soaking him to bone.

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***I borrowed this wonderful line from one of my favorite fanfics, Endings And Beginnings, written by the insightful and eloquent Mouse.

Chapter 35 - Brian Kinney, Romantic Fool!

"Christie! Get me a double non-fat latte and the McPherson Industries file," Brian Kinney roared at the timid brown mouse of a woman who'd been assigned as his assistant before the elevator doors were even all the way opened as he strode into work the next morning.

"It's . . . Uh, it's 'Christine', Sir," the woman mumbled as she jumped up out of her chair to follow her irate boss.

"Christine, Christie, whatever . . ." Brian didn't have the time or the desire to learn the useless woman's name. He pushed open the door to his office, threw his briefcase and jacket on the nearest chair and shuffled through the pile of papers in his 'In' box, then looked up at the still-hesitant secretary with utter disdain. "Where's my coffee?"

"Coming right up, Sir," Crystal-or-whatever-her-name-was stuttered as she tripped over her feet in a rush to get out the door.

More than fifteen minutes later, Chrissie finally came back into Brian's office holding out a Starbuck's ToGo cup as if it was a shield. Brian grabbed the cup with a disdainful shake of his head and sniffled, equally annoyed by the cold he seemed to have caught after his foray the night before into the sleet-covered streets of New York and the too-timid secretary. When the girl continued to just stand there, uselessly, after she surrendered the coffee, Brian completely lost it.

"What exactly are you fucking looking at," Brian snarled. "Where's the McPherson file? Where's my calendar? Why are you just standing there? You do speak English, don't you? Well . . . .?"

The girl stood as if frozen to the spot, too scared to answer. The look of terror on the woman's face didn't do anything to quell Brian's anger, either. This was not how he wanted to start his day. Brian had too much to do today. Mollycoddling his personal assistant wasn't on the agenda - he had to finalize the McPherson presentation, find Daphne and win back his boyfriend. He knew he needed help and this timorous little mouse wasn't going to cut it.

Brian turned to his desk, picked up the phone and dialed the number of the one person he knew he could rely on to get everything he needed accomplished.

"Cynthia? I need you to find me the address for a Daphne Chanders. She's a pre-med student here in NYC - I don't know what school though. I've got a cell phone number for her but I need a street address too. Oh, and an email address too while you're at it. I also need the school email address for Justin Taylor - he goes to SVA. Got it? . . .Exactly. When you've got all that, I need you to get your ass up here to New York and get started on research for McPherson Industries. We've got a presentation scheduled with them next Tuesday and nobody here knows what the fuck they're doing. Oh yeah, don't forget to call Rick, or Dick, or whatever-the-hell his name is down in HR and tell him he's hiring you to take over for my old PA, Chrissy Something . . . I don't give a shit what he does with her, she's useless . . . Got it? Good. Now, get your ass moving, Cynthia, we've got shit to do!"

Brian had his usual wicked business-shark smile on his lips as soon as he hung up the phone. He knew he could start to relax. Cynthia would get it all straightened out. She always did.

"Uh . . . M-M-M-Mr. Kinney . . ." Christie asked from the doorway where she was still standing looking more shell-shocked than ever.

"What the hell are you doing here still?" Brian asked, genuinely confused about why the incompetent cunt was still taking up space in his office.

Little Chris' face crumpled up faster than a Junior High School love note intercepted by the teacher during math class. With a convulsive whining sob, Brian's former PA turned and ran from the big bad Kinney ogre. Brian paused all of ten seconds, sighing at the pathetic girl, before shaking his head and dismissing the whole fiasco from his consciousness. With a mischievous little grin now adorning his face, Brian moved towards his computer and started into the research for the most important campaign of his life - the campaign to win back his boyfriend!

'Froggie went a courtin' and he did ride, uh huh. Froggie went a courtin' and he did ride, uh huh . . .'

Brian probably didn't even know he was humming that particular old folk tune as he mapped out his ridiculously romantic strategy.

Bob Dylan's, "Froggie Went a Courtin'  

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

Wednesday.

Justin cringed when he felt the phone in his pocket vibrate again. Brian had been calling him incessantly ever since he'd left the apartment last weekend and, since Justin hadn't yet answered a single call, you'd think the guy would get the message and quit calling already. He'd turned the ringer off, but even just on vibrate the constant calls and texts were a distraction. Now Brian was interrupting his Art History class. This simply had to stop.

Using the edge of the table to hide his actions from the lecturing professor's gaze, Justin surreptitiously pulled his phone out of his pocket, intending to block Brian's number once and for all. He really didn't plan on even reading the text that Brian had sent this time - he'd already read the three dozen other messages purporting to apologize and virtually begging him to call so Brian could explain - he really didn't need to see it again. This time, though, there seemed to be a picture accompanying the text message, and Justin was intrigued enough to open the message so he could see the pic.

When Justin tapped on the thumbnail of the pic to open the message, he couldn't help huffing out one startled chuckle, despite being stared at by the entire class for his outburst.

The picture that Brian had sent him showed a gloriously nude Brian Kinney stretched out across his desk at the office, wearing only Justin's grungy old 'traveling sneakers' and a big smile. Lying on the desktop in front of the lounging Adonis was a mammoth-sized, bright neon blue dildo with a big red ribbon tied around the shaft in a neat bow. The accompanying text read:

'Roses are red,

This dildo is blue,

So are my balls,

Since I've been without you!'

'Kinney gets points for both audacity and tenacity', Justin conceded to himself and shifted in his seat in order to relieve the discomfort caused by his trousers suddenly seeming far too tight through the crotch area. There was no getting around the fact that his former roommate was simply sexy as hell. It didn't mean that Justin was ready to forgive him, though. So, as soon as he willed his erection down, Justin steeled his will and reminded himself to stay angry at the asshole.

Justin had finally managed to work himself back up to a fully self-righteous snit by the time he arrived at Impressions for his regular shift in the framing department at the art supply store.

Unfortunately, the post-Christmas retail lull had set in already, so there wasn't much to keep his attention at work. He had to fight one co-worker simply to win the tedious task of inventorying the framing supplies, just so he wouldn't die of boredom. The rest of the staff desultorily wandered around straightening the stock on the shelves and gossiping. Which meant that virtually everyone in the store was idle and watching when a handsome, dark-haired young man dressed in a delivery company uniform breezed through the main door and announced he had a package for Justin Taylor.

"Justin Taylor to the Customer Service Desk . . .  Justin, please come to Customer Service - you have a delivery," the bored assistant manager announced over the PA system, alerting the two employees and one customer who hadn't already seen the delivery in progress so they too could come join in the ogling.

Justin emerged from the dusty framing supplies closet, wiping his hands off on an old rag, and warily made his way through the crowd gathered around the delivery guy standing at the front desk. "You Justin Taylor?" the uniformed hunk asked in a low, almost sultry voice. Justin merely nodded. "Sign here," Delivery Man ordered, offering up his electronic clipboard. Justin scrawled something that vaguely resembled a signature on the screen and Delivery Man handed him a rather large, plain, craft-paper shopping bag.

Justin spread the handles of the bag apart and peeked cautiously inside. Meanwhile several of his co-workers leaned over his shoulders so they could see as well. Inside the bag was a large, elegantly wrapped package - silver metallic wrapping paper set off perfectly by a deep purple and green silk ribbon.

'What is it?' 'Open it already, Taylor!' 'Got a secret admirer, Justin?' The rest of the nosy staff clamored, trying to hurry Justin into opening the intriguing and mysterious gift.

With his bossy audience egging him on, Justin pulled the package out of the bag and started to carefully unwrap it. Freddy, the store wiseass, apparently couldn't bear how slowly Justin was proceeding and decided to help out by grabbing a stray edge of the wrapping paper and simply tearing it away in one huge swoop. Justin only barely managed not to drop the huge, hard-bound, coffee-table sized book that fell out of the wrappings. Justin turned the tome over in his hands and everyone could finally see it was an exquisite book full of impressionist works of art depicting flowers of every description. The assorted art geeks who worked with Justin all Ohhhh'd and Ahhhh'd over the coveted and obviously expensive gift.

Delivery Man, who'd lingered long enough to see what was in the package along with everyone else, was just preparing to leave when he remembered one last thing. "Almost forgot - here's the card," he said, holding a small envelope out towards Justin.

The young artist was still far too busy admiring his beautiful new book to react immediately to this new announcement. Wiseass Freddy, however, was much quicker - he snagged the little envelope away from Delivery Man, ripped it open and was already starting to read the hand-written note aloud to the assembly, before Justin or anyone else could stop him.

'Even the most colorful bud opening it's dusky petals to greet the morning light, could never compare to the beauty of the tight pink folds of your hot little ass opening . . .'

"GIVE ME THAT!" Justin screamed and tore the crumpled gift card out of Freddy's hands - luckily, before the greeting card thief could finish reading the embarrassing sentiment inside. The portion that WAS read was bad enough to cause Justin to blush a deep purple-red. Grabbing the book away from another co-worker, the flustered red-faced young artist retreated, cursing Brian Kinney - the only man he knew that was insane enough to try a stunt like this.

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

Thursday.  

The text message that woke Justin up the next morning was just as colorful as the one he’d received the prior day:

‘There once was a man from Nantucket

Whose dick was so long he could suck it.

He said with a grin,

While he rubbed on his chin,

If you’d get your ass home I could fuck it!’

The picture that accompanied this amazing work of poetical genius was of the pillow on Brian’s bed - a small dent in it where Justin’s head should be - with the tip of the big blue dildo from the prior photo just peeking out from under the edge of the duvet.

A few hours later, Justin’s Life Studies class was interrupted by another violent eruption of vibrations from his pocketed cell phone. Unsure whether or not he was going to get another naked photo, but too curious NOT to look, Justin slipped his phone out of his jean’s pocket and snuck a quick peep. This time the photo wasn’t X-rated, though - it was the sweetest picture of a bashful little Gus posing next to the Traveling Sneakers with a caption that said, “My Daddy Misses you, Jus’n!”

“Using your kid against me is really low, Kinney,” Justin mumbled to himself, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he desperately tried to get his mind back on the painting of the older naked lady model he needed to complete before the end of class.

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

“I did it!” Cynthia announced proudly as she let herself into Brian’s office without knocking, waving a little slip of paper in the air as evidence. “I found Ms. Chander’s address for you, Brian . . .” Cynthia’s voice died off as she finally registered the scene she’d walked in on. Brian, literally butt naked, was sitting on his clear, glass-topped office desk, with his bare backside to the door.  “Brian? Do you . . . uh . . . do you need some help with . . . whatever it is you’re trying to do,” Cynthia asked with a great deal of stoic self-control as she watched her boss wiggling around on the desktop and using a remote to take pictures of himself in various different ‘poses’.

“Actually . . . yes, I could use your help,” Brian announced placidly, apparently not in the least concerned about his PA walking in on him in the buff. “Do you know how difficult it is to take a good ‘selfie’ of your own ass? I must have fifty shots here and they’re all for shit,” Brian explained, getting up and handing the camera to his assistant with his most mischievous grin before he bent over the edge of his desk again, ready for the next shot.

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

At 7:20 pm, there was a knock on the door of Daphne’s apartment. Hector, who happened to be the closest to the door at the time, lumbered off the couch, brushed the potato chip crumbs off his sweat-stained tee shirt and obligingly opened the door. He was greeted by the biggest-assed gift basket he’d ever seen - it was so large that Hector couldn’t even see the head of the delivery guy carrying the thing.

“Delivery for Justin Taylor,” gasped the unseen delivery person behind the cellophane wrapped monstrosity as he struggled to keep the weighty thing from falling out of his grasp.

“Uh, yeah . . . JUSTIN! IT’S FOR YOU!” Hector shouted over his shoulder before slumping back into his favorite spot on the couch.

By the time Justin had made it to the door, the delivery guy had given up and set the gargantuan basket down on the floor in the doorway. “Are you Taylor? I need a signature for this shit,” the uniformed delivery guy demanded and Justin was momentarily distracted to see that it was the same Delivery Man that had brought his earlier package to the art store.

“Yeah, I’m Justin Taylor,” the young man answered, looking at the mammoth basket warily, but moving to sign the electronic pad nonetheless.

“Enjoy!” quipped Delivery Man as Justin struggled to drag the thing far enough inside so he could close the apartment door.

“What the hell . . .” Daphne snorted as she came into the room and saw her best friend struggling with the ridiculously large basket.

“Brian . . .” Justin explained to his incredulous friend with just one word. “Fucking obnoxious asshole, thinks he can placate me with stupid presents and fucking obscene poetry . . .” Justin was muttering angrily to himself even as he pulled at the end of the big red bow that tied the whole conglomeration closed.

Daphne ignored her friend’s subtextual monologue and started tearing away at the wrapping so she could see what was in the basket. The first thing she came across was an envelope attached to the bow at the top of the basket. On the outside it read, ‘Good Clean Wholesome Fun for the Whole Family’. Daphne laughed out loud at the mere idea of what Brian Kinney would find fun and tore open the slightly lumpy envelope. There was no card inside this time, just four really fat joints that dropped to the carpet at Daphne’s feet.

“Excellent!” Daphne cheered as soon as she saw the bounty. “Brian always has the best pot!”

“Don’t tell me you’re taking HIS side,” Justin pouted as he watched his most confidential friend gleefully scoop up the drugs that his evil ex had sent to placate them all.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side, Jus. But, my granny always did say that you should never look gift drugs in the mouth . . .” Daph chuckled as she set the joints carefully aside and continued to paw over the rest of the basket’s contents. “And, Brian of course included an excellent selection of junk food for when the munchies set in,” Daph remarked as she pulled a variety of chips, chocolates and various other sweets out of the basket. There was even a can of gourmet cat food for Winston along with a catnip filled mouse toy so that the feline contingent would get to join in the fun as well.

By this point, Hector’s interest had been ignited and the large bear managed to pull himself off the couch to assist in unloading the basket of goodies. After unloading all the edible treats, Hector and Daphne started to get to the really, really good stuff that had been hidden underneath - the porn! Brian had, of course, included a really eclectic selection of classics: ‘Romancing the Bone’, ‘Robocock’, and a big crowd-pleasing favorite, 'Cumalot'. Hector, especially, was enthusiastically voicing his approval of the gift basket by this point and was already moving towards the DVD player with ‘Robocock’ in one hand and a bag of corn chips in the other.

“Fuck, Justin! If you don’t want to go back to this guy, will you give him my number?” Hector teased as he popped in the video and enthusiastically tore open the bag of chips.

Daphne joined Hector on the couch, handing him one of the joints as she lit up her very own and took a deep drag. “Brian really does know how to live it up,” Daphne agreed, squeaking a bit as she tried to talk while holding in the smoke at the same time.

“Fuck you both!” Justin shot back. “I’m not falling for this shit. Brian can’t just buy my forgiveness. He’s a complete and total ass and I don’t need him.”

“What DO we have here?" Cassandra, the last of the apartment's residents, queried as she followed the aroma of high quality marijuana into the room where everyone else was now gathered. "Yay! Pot, pretzels and porn! All we need now is some peppermint schnapps and we'll have us a 'P' party!" Grabbing herself a joint, Cassie curled up on the couch next to Daphne and contentedly turned her attention to the writhing, moaning mass of naked men playing an intricate game of 'hide the humongous salami' now showing on their television.

"Traitors! All of you are traitors!" Justin spat with disgust as he escaped back into Daph's room, fed up with the lot of them.

Justin was prepared to hide out in Daphne’s room and sulk for the rest of the evening, even though it was tough trying to stay all sullen and angry while he listened to the voices of the others having what seemed to be the time of their lives. Justin wouldn’t give in, though. He wasn’t about to give up on his righteous ‘mad’ at the first appearance of pot and porn.

However, while Justin was sitting there on Daph’s lumpy, unmade bed and trying to maintain an adequate level of disdain for all things Brian Kinney, his phone started vibrating again. By this time the boy had worked himself up to the point that he was ready, willing and looking forward to responding to Kinney’s ongoing outrageous attempts to mollify him. He pulled out his phone and tapped on the text message icon, fully intending to send back some scathing response.

Unfortunately, once he’d viewed the text and the accompanying pic of Brian Kinney’s luscious ass, Justin was too busy laughing his own ass off to bother with his scorching reply:

‘There was a full moon in New York,

It was ready and waiting for your pork,

But since you weren’t there,

Rather than despair,

Instead I just stuck in a cork.’

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

Friday.

Justin had only, finally, gotten to sleep around three-thirty am. He’d had to jerk off four times the night before, laughing all the while at the image of Brian’s needy, cork-filled ass. When he was awakened just after 7:00 am by more vibrations from his phone, he thought for the first thirty seconds he would just ignore it. Then, as soon as his brain was a little more engaged, he recalled exactly what the incoming text would likely be about, and he threw back the covers and dove for the phone which was resting on the nearby nightstand. As he read the new sext message, Justin was too busy giggling to bother being upset at getting woke up too early:

'Roses make you sneeze,

Violets are for shit,

Why not sit on my face,

And wiggle around a bit!'

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

“I’m NOT taking any more pictures of your naked ass, Brian,” Cynthia complained as soon as she was summoned into Brian’s office that morning.

“Shut the fuck up,” Brian smirked at his assistant. “You KNOW you fucking loved it, so get over yourself. Besides, that’s not what I need this time. What I NEED is reinforcements. I want you to get Mikey’s ass here to New York. And, don’t even think about listening to any of his lame-ass excuses. I don’t care if he’s still angry with me. I’ll even fucking apologize if he absolutely requires it. Just get him here . . .”

“Are you sure you want a Personal Assistant and not a Miracle Worker, Boss?” Cynthia snarked back, shaking her head even as she started back to the door.

“If you keep up those comments, dear, it’ll take a miracle to keep your ass from getting fired,” Brian replied with a saccharine sweet smile directed at Cyn’s retreating back. “Oh, and Cynthia,” Brian added before the woman could escape, “I also need you to find out when Justin has lunch and where. Today’s menu will have a special surprise on it for our little artist . . ."

Chapter 36 - The Romantic Drivel Continues.

Friday Continued - late morning.

“Hello! My name is Jackson and I’ve got a message for Justin Taylor from his BOYFRIEND, Brian Kinney!” the gorgeous, half-naked, well-muscled man shouted into the cordless mike as he stormed into the PIFA cafeteria right after Justin had seated himself with his lunch at his regular table in the corner.

While the cafeteria crowd became instantly silent in the face of this unusual invasion, the shirtless wonder deposited a compact MP3 player attached to a high-tech speakers setup onto the top of Justin’s lunch table, hit the ‘play’ button and then jumped up on the tabletop. As the music started to blast out through the speakers - rather loudly, considering the small size of the tiny little speakers - the sexy-as-hell man immediately started bumping and grinding his hips along to the music.

Brian's Strip-o-gram - Cheap Trick's, "I Want You To Want Me."

While Justin’s face turned an interesting shade of pink - identified later by several of the resident art students as ‘Pearl Blush’ - the lovely hunk of a stripper sang along to the words of the song, fondled himself and slowly pulled off various items of his attire. "I WANT you to want me . . ." the song and the stripper crooned together. Considering how little the man was wearing at the beginning of the show, it was amazing how many pieces of clothing he continuously removed - his fake cuffs went first, then his belt, then with a lot of exaggeration the tear-away trousers, etc., etc. etc. The crowd was loving the display, clapping along to the music and hooting enthusiastically as each subsequent costume part was sexily stripped off and draped over Justin’s body.

Just as the song ended, when the man was down to nothing except a skimpy black leather g-string and his trademark bowtie, he launched himself bodily into Justin’s lap. Justin grabbed the man more out of shock than anything else, although he really didn’t mind having an armful of naked hunk. The cafeteria crowd loved the move and whooped, clapped, cheered and whistled loudly.

“Brian’s message for YOU, Justin Taylor, is, ‘Please Forgive Me, Sunshine’,” the stripper hollered into his mike as soon as the noise in the room had died down to manageable levels.

This announcement engendered the expected cat calls from the guys and a few ‘ahhhh’s from the ladies present. Justin’s blush deepened to an almost mauve shade. The stripper laughed and ate up the attention, milking the crowd to get an even more boisterous response.

“So, what do you guys say,” the stripper continued, polling the crowd that was now completely invested in the Kinney-Taylor romance. “Should Justin forgive Brian for being a total ass? Let’s hear it! Everyone who thinks little Sunshine here should kiss and make up with his boyfriend, give me a ‘Hell, yeah!”

The cacophonous roar of “HELL, YEAH!” literally rattled the roof of the older building where the PIFA cafeteria was located. The sexy stripper, having suitably roused the crowd and more than made the point Brian had paid him to plead, laughingly got up off Justin’s lap. Then the Chippendale's man bent down and spontaneously gave the gaping blond a huge wet kiss on the lips  before he rose to his full height and waved to the crowd while tossing handfuls of confetti mixed in with small strips of paper bearing some printed logo out into the crowd. Finally, he gathered up his gear and again waved goodbye to endless rounds of applause as he exited the hall.

Justin covered his face with his hands, slithered off the plastic seat of the lunchroom chair and tried, unsuccessfully, to hide under the table until he could maybe slink out of the cafeteria unnoticed. He wasn't in the least bit amused to see that the printed pieces of paper that the stripper had thrown out into the crowd bore a website address that was decidedly suspicious: 'ForgiveMeSunshine.com'. The loud groan Justin couldn't hold back at that point immediately gave away his hiding place and he spent the rest of his lunch hour fending off the well-meaning but unwanted jibes of his classmates.

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

Justin was almost afraid to go into work that afternoon. He had no idea WHAT Brian might do next. If he sent another strip-o-gram to his work, he’d probably get fired. Fuck! Why was the man so horribly embarrassing and ridiculously tenacious? If Brian kept this up, he’d have to talk to him - at least long enough to bitch him out and demand that he stop stalking him.

Luckily, there wasn’t a repeat of the stripper this afternoon. The only interruption was a, relatively speaking, innocuous text message from Brian:

'There once was a fellow named Sweeney,

Who spilled some gin on his weenie.

Just to be couth,

He added vermouth,

Then slipped his boyfriend a martini.'

Justin tried not to smile at the roguish picture of Brian that accompanied this new naughty limerick. He really did try not to enjoy it at all. He, of course, failed.

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

Friday Evening.

“Oh, Justin,” Cassie called shortly after the buzzer to the apartment door went off that night. “You’ve got another delivery . . .”

Justin groaned, knowing that he was going to be subjected once again to another of Brian’s attempts to woo him back. And, knowing Brian, whatever it was this time, it was likely to get him yet another ribbing from Daph’s nosy roommates. His only hope was that maybe, like last time, Hector and Cassandra would get so caught up in HIS present that they’d forget Justin was even there.

“Taylor. Sign here,” the same old delivery guy demanded a bit curtly - he wasn’t nearly as personable as he'd been the prior couple of times, probably because Justin had repeatedly refused to tip the bearer of the unwanted emotional bribery.

The curt delivery guy did hand over a large red paperboard box with a big black bow on it. The sticker on the side of the box read: ‘Naughty Sweet Fun Box’. Justin shook the box and noted that it felt rather full.

“Yippee! More porn!” Hector crowed, appearing out of nowhere and looking over Cassie’s shoulder trying to get a better glimpse of what tonight’s viewing might include.

Without even a 'May we?', Cassie and Hector started to delve into the big red box conceding only the small gift card attached with a ribbon to the box handle into Justin's hands. Reluctantly, Justin tore open the small envelope and read the sentiment written in bright red ink on an ebony black card: "Thinking of you, thinking of me . . ."

"Fuck you, Brian Kinney," Justin mumbled only half heartedly in response to the egotistical assertion, even as the boy held on tightly to the little card.

"Fuck! No porn this time," Hector whined as soon as he'd completely rifled through the big box.

"No, it's even better," Cassie announced as she read the description of the contents off the little tag she'd found dangling from the handle next to the card she'd handed off to Justin:

'This X-rated gift is perfect for that extra naughty person. Contains Adult Sex Candies (Candy Love Ring, Flavored Condoms, Candy Tassels, Chocolate Body Pen, Candy Handcuffs and Gummy Panties); Tenga Cup Black assortment; 'The Gay Man's Kama Sutra' (fourth edition); plus related fun (with a pun) candy: Big Hunk, Blow Pops, Candy Cigarettes, Good and Plenty, Fun Dip, Coconut and Chocolate Long Boys, Red Hots, Pop Rocks, Slap Sticks, Bit-o-Honey, Slo Poke, Wax Lips & more! All the fun you can get in one big red box!'

Tenga Cup PV - The Best Sexual Experience You Can Have On Your Own!

"Shit, Justin," Hector gushed as he casually flipped through the pages of the thick hardback book he'd confiscated out of the box, occasionally tipping the book sideways to get a better perspective on a particular picture. "I'm fucking serious about giving this guy my number if you're done with him. Anybody who'd try to woo you with this much swag has GOT to be worth the effort . . . And, uh, if you don't want those Tenga things, I'd be happy to take 'em off your hands," Hector added with a lascivious leer.

"The LAST thing you need, Hector, is any masterbation aids. We have a hard enough time cleaning all the dried cum off the furniture now," Cassie admonished and slapped Hector's hand away just as he started to reach for the enticing black Tenga box.

"You'd better hide all this, Justin," Cass said, hastily piling everything back into the box and hoisting the whole of it into Justin's arms. "We really DON'T want Hector getting into anything in here - not if you don't want to listen to him jerking off 24/7 for the next week. It's bad enough with those new porno DVDs your Brian sent yesterday . . ."

"Where exactly do you propose I hide it," Justin asked incredulously. "This is only a fucking one bedroom apartment and there are four of us living here. Privacy is pretty much non-existent."

"Well," Cassie offered suggestively, "you could always take it back to your OWN apartment and use it with the hunky boyfriend who seems to be trying pretty fucking hard to win you back."

"So Brian has won you over too? Well, he might be able to buy his way into everyone else's good graces, but my affections can't be bought with porn, pot and presents," Justin insisted vociferously, turning to stomp off towards the single bedroom he was currently sharing with Daph and Cassie, his arms full of a box of sex toys, completely oblivious to the fact that he looked like a pathetic, love-sick fool in denial.

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

Saturday Morning.

'There once was a sweet boy from France,

Who kept a baboon in his pants.

Half the people who saw

Couldn't help but guffaw,

The other half asked him to dance!'

"Brian, I finally managed to get Michael to answer one of my calls. He's holding for you on line three," Cynthia announced with a self-satisfied smile as she bounded into Brian's office early Saturday morning just as Brian finished sending off his regular morning sex limerick text to Justin.

"Excellent job, Cynthia," Brian replied with a pleased smile, more than glad he had his ultra-reliable PA with him in New York now.

"Hey, Mikey! You fully recovered yet from the horrible cat clawing?" Brian snarked as he picked up the call from his erstwhile best friend.

"I have NOTHING to say to you, asshole, so stop calling me a thousand times a day and tell your pit bull secretary to quit leaving me annoying messages!" Michael screamed over the phone line so loudly that Brian was sure to lose at least partial hearing in his one ear.

Brian calmly switched the phone to his other ear. "Now, Mikey, is that any way to talk to the man who protected you from countless high school bullies, who arranged to have Todd Winchester pop your cherry the summer after senior year and who hasn't failed to give you a birthday sex toy for more than fifteen years running?" Brian crooned to the irate man, hoping to kindle at least some tiny spark of remembered friendship after everything they'd been through together.

"Fuck you, Brian! I don't owe you anything. You can't just treat me like shit you've scraped off your shoe and then expect me to be all buddy-buddy the next time you call. I've had enough of the Brian Kinney treatment for two fucking lifetimes. Just fuck off and leave me alone," Michael yelled, causing an almost equal deafness in Brian's other ear as well.

"I'm only going to say this once, so you'd better shut up for thirty seconds and listen to me, Mikey," Brian ordered, his voice losing the kind, cajoling tone he'd started off with and moving towards a commanding imperative. "Are you listening?"

"Yes, Brian, I'm fucking listening. Do I have any other choice?"

"I'm sorry for what I said to you about you not knowing how to be a good dad. It was a really shitty thing to say. The only reason I said it was because you weren't listening to me about all the negatives involved in agreeing to help The Munchers have another kid. I think you'd make a wonderful dad. But I don't think that Mel and Lindz are the right people to do this with. Mel especially won't ever agree to let you have the rights you deserve with regard to your kid - at least not without getting a lawyer or two involved. I know because of Gus. I just didn't want you to make the same mistake I did. However, if this is really something you want to do, I'll support you no matter what, just like always, Mikey. So, please, accept my apology and let's let bygones be bygones. I'm tired of arguing with you. I need my oldest friend back."

There was complete silence on the other end of the phone line after Brian finished his little speech. Brian waited nervously for some response - any response - hoping against hope that Michael would hear the sincerity in his words. Brian had already lost too many people who he'd thought he should be able to trust. It would irreparably crush him if he were to permanently lose the one friend he'd counted on the most for the past fifteen-plus years over a stupid argument like this. Especially now, when Brian needed him more than almost ever before.

"What about the twink," Michael asked, tentatively testing out where he now stood in Brian's life.

"Justin . . . He's different, Mikey. He's . . . I didn't even know I was missing something like him in my life until after I met him, but now I . . . I need . . . I think I, well, I think I maybe love him or something, Mikey . . . But, of course, I've already screwed everything up with him and I've got no fucking idea how to fix things and I'm fucking miserable without him, you know . . . Shit, Mikey, I really need help with this one or I think maybe I'm going to lose him and . . . I just can't lose him . . ."

"Shit! Are you really serious, Brian? Are you listening to yourself? What about all the times you swore you would never do boyfriends or relationships or any of that 'pseudo-hetero bullshit'?"

"All that crap - those ridiculous rules I used to spout - were made up by a scared, hurt, fifteen-year-old child who'd seen nothing but his own parents' failed miserable marriage, Mikey. I was just a kid when I came up with all that bull. A traumatized, ignorant little kid. But I'm all grown up now, Mikey, and I'm realizing just how ridiculous all those rules I made up really are. It's a big fucking lonely world out there, Mikey. I don't want to face it alone for the rest of my miserable life. I think I want someone like Justin to share it with. I mean, let's face it, my reputation as the Stud of Liberty Avenue isn't going to keep me warm at night in my fucking empty bed, but Justin, if I can get him back, might."

"Hell! When did you go and grow up and become all fucking adult on me, Brian?" Michael said in a resigned and almost sad voice after a few moments of silence.

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

Saturday - Noon.

Justin had been incredibly busy at the gallery all morning. Tonight was the opening night for a new exhibit featuring a well known artist that specialized in pop culture photography and graphics. Justin thought the guy's work was a bit pedestrian and derivative, but who was he to criticize when the pieces he was setting up had price tags in the four and five figures? If anything, Justin was simply glad that his work was keeping him far too busy to think about Brian Kinney.

Just before he was about to stop for lunch, as he was bundling up a large wad of wrapping materials that he needed to dispose of now that all the pieces for the exhibit were unpacked, Justin was interrupted by the galley manager, Tricia.

"Justin, can you come to the front desk. There's something you need to see right away," Tricia announced with a knowing smile.

Justin's eyes widened with a momentary panic and dread. "Shit! It's not another stripper is it? I swear, Tricia, I had nothing to do with this. I'm so sorry. I'll take care of it, just don't be pissed, please . . ."

Justin was off, running down the hall towards the front reception desk before Tricia could even get in a word of reassurance. Sure that Brian had once again gone overboard and that he would be embarrassed in front of his employer by some outlandish sexually-charged spectacle, Justin didn’t even give a second glance to the large bouquet of brightly colored flowers sitting on the corner of the reception desk. He skidded to a halt when he reached the front door. Gazing around, Justin frantically surveyed the main room of the gallery, looking for some type of disturbance that would signal to him where Brian’s next little surprise was waiting.

“Uh . . . Justin?” Tricia drew back his attention when she made it to the desk at her own more reasonable pace. “What are you looking for?”

“There’s no stripper,” Justin asked, his confusion clearly evident from the tone of his voice.

“No. There’s no stripper. But, please tell your boyfriend that I wouldn’t object if that’s what he sends next time,” Tricia chuckled at the thought.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Justin replied with more than a hint of anger in his expression.

“Well, then, maybe you have a secret admirer? Somebody sent you these gorgeous flowers and all this swag,” Tricia teased him as she gestured towards the bouquet of flowers that Justin had already overlooked.

When he looked closer, Justin noticed that some of the panoply of colors in the arrangement came not from flowers, but from bundles of equally bright colored pencils, mechanical crayons and Copic markers, all mixed in with the blossoms. And, on top of that, there were about a dozen or so assorted paintbrushes - all of the best quality, of course - poking up from between bright blooms. It was an artist’s dream bouquet, and not at all what Justin would have expected from a previously confirmed bachelor like Brian. It was thoughtful and sweet and for once not just another big sexual innuendo. It made Justin wonder . . .

“So, there was this card that came with it,” Tricia added with a slightly sheepish grimace. “I really couldn’t help myself . . .” she added as she handed over the already opened envelope containing the accompanying gift card.

Justin pulled the card out of the torn envelope. The handwritten message said simply, “Go outside, Sunshine, and look to the heavens. B~” Justin was intrigued by the cryptic note enough that he actually complied, even though he still had misgivings about what type of drastic measures Brian might still resort to.

Pushing open the gallery’s front door, still holding the small card in his hand as if to use it for some sort of protection, Justin walked a few paces outside onto the front walk. Following directions, the young artist looked upwards. It didn’t take more than a second or two for him to see exactly what it was that Brian had wanted him to see. Across the street from the gallery, the large billboard over the top of the dry cleaner’s had a brand new look. Justin wasn’t in the least surprised, after everything else Brian had done the past week, to see a fifty foot high picture of Brian kissing him taken while they’d been dancing at Babylon on New Year’s Eve.

“Shit!” Justin murmured looking at the billboard advertising a website called, ‘ForgiveMeSunshine.com’. “What the fuck have you done now, Brian? Grown a twat? Talk about lesbionic, sentimental shit . . .” Justin complained, although the tiny little half smile he was now sporting kind of took away any real sting the words might have had.

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

Chapter 37 - Reconciliation, Failed.

“This is amazing, Justin,” Daphne gushed for about the tenth time as she explored the ‘ForgiveMeSunshine.com’ website that Brian had set up as part of his campaign to win back Justin’s affections. ‘There’s this slideshow of pictures of you and Brian. You two look so fucking hot together, you know. How long were you guys together, anyway - there’s like a thousand photos here. Oh, look, there’s one with me in it from Christmas. Thankfully it was taken BEFORE we all got stoned off our asses and Winston knocked over the tree. I look pretty damn hot standing there with you two gorgeous men flanking me. I think I’ll copy it to my facebook page . . .”

“I’m SOOOOO glad that my pathetic love life is helping your status on various social media, Daph,” Justin snarled with disdain, rubbing his hands through his still pink-dyed hair.

“Oh, fucking lighten up, Justin! You know, if you keep this up, they’re going to post your picture next to the definition of the term ‘Queening Out’ on Urban Dictionary.” Daphne shook her head at her pouting best friend and went back to perusing the ForgiveMeSunshine website. “So, on top of the cool pics, there's a user poll set up - looks like, currently, 87% of the visitors to the site say that you SHOULD forgive Brian and get back together. Shit, the website has already got over 10,000 hits. Looks like you’re an overnight sensation, Sunshine.”

“Great, so now 10,000 strangers know everything about my personal life and they all think I’m the bad guy and Brian is a fucking saint. Wonderful. After everything that asshold did to me, Daph, I’m not going to forgive him just because he sets up some laughable website and buys me tons of demeaning sex toys. God damned stupid Irish Asshole . . . Thinks he’s a fucking god . . . blackmailing me into forgiving him . . . hasn’t got the balls . . . rather castrate . . .” Justin’s comments faded off into mumbled threats towards Brian’s manhood.

“Cool! There’s also a discussion board where everybody’s been leaving comments . . .” Daphne continued on, ignoring her best friend’s diatribe. “Huh? There’s a whole string here of ideas for additional romantic suggestions people are offering to help Brian get you back . . . Hmmm, well, I don’t see any alternate reality where Brian’s going to be giving you a teddy bear holding a heart . . . But, I like this one: ‘Brian should fly Sunshine to Paris and whisk him off to a romantic private dinner at the Louvre’. That would totally rock. Think I could tag along if I promised to make myself scarce as soon as the lovey-dovey shit started? What do you think, Jus? Justin?”

Daphne apparently hadn’t noticed when Justin had stomped off grumbling and proceeded to lock himself into the one tiny bedroom that he was sharing with Daphne and Cassandra, leaving Daph alone to continue admiring Brian’s annoying and, as far as Justin was concerned, pointless little web site.

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

Sunday - morning.

“You sent him a basket of porn and another of sex toys? What the fuck, Brian? Are you pathologically incapable of any real romance or are you just subliminally trying to blow this?” Michael continued to deride his friend’s ideas of romantic gestures, as he had been ever since he’d arrived in New York, ostensibly to help Brian win back his one true love.

“Fuck you, Mikey, and fuck your newly expanded vocabulary. I happen to know for a fact that Justin loves a good porn flic,” Brian offered in his own defense. “And what’s NOT romantic about sex toys? Justin loves toys. I’ll have you know, there was this one time when we were just goofing around and I tied him up and then we got out this Pyrex dildo I'd put in the freezer . . .”

“I think you’ve got the term ‘kinky’ confused with ‘romantic’, Brian,” Michael interrupted his friend before the story got too far. “Showing off how cocky and sex starved you are is NOT going to win him back. Not after all that crap you told me you put him through before he left. You're gonna have to tell him honestly how you feel; that you miss him, that you’re sorry for treating him so wrongly . . . Is any of this getting through to you, Brian?”

“Errrrrrgh! You know I’m shitty at that kind of stuff, Mikey. Even though I’m trying to change here, I don’t think I can just slit open my soul and spout off emotional crap like that. I’m just not comfortable with that shit. I’m still recovering from the realization that I even WANT a fucking boyfriend. I’m actually going after a man I care about. I’ve even admitted to him that I miss him. Isn’t that enough? Shit . . .” Brian complained as he paced back and forth in the living room of the apartment that still felt empty even with Michael here now.

Brian did have to admit that so far his plan wasn’t working as well as he’d thought it would. He’d figured that Justin would cave and be back in his bed in the apartment by the end of the first day - second day, tops. And here he was, five days later and there was still no indication that his Sunshine was warming up to him again. He had to find some way to get through to the boy. Brian Kinney had decided that he wanted Justin Taylor in his life - that was a life altering decision in itself - and last Tuesday, while walking through the rain, he’d determined that he would do whatever he had to do to get his boy back. So, if he HAD to try the honesty and talking thing . . . well, fuck it, he’d try anything at this point.

“Fine, Mikey. I’ll fucking try it your way. So, how exactly do I do this talking thing?”

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

Sunday - Evening.

“You can do this, Brian. I know you can. You really like this guy and if you want him back all you have to do is be open and honest,” Michael repeated for the fifteenth time as he stood behind Brian and rubbed his shoulders as if he was a trainer prepping a prize-fighter before the man entered the ring.

Brian continued to just stare at the door to Daphne’s apartment for several more minutes, gulping in humongous lungsful of air and trying to screw up his courage. He’d told himself that Brian Kinney wasn’t afraid of anything. Brian Kinney could do anything he set his mind to. Brian Kinney would not be defeated by any mere twink . . . Only, Brian Kinney wasn’t sure he believed himself enough to try something as radical as actually talking to someone and telling that person how much he loved and missed him. It was the most daunting prospect he’d ever faced in his whole fucking life.

“Fucking knock on the door, already, Brian,” Mikey ordered, shoving his larger friend closer towards the seemingly impenetrable solid wooden obstacle barring his way to his Sunshine. “I swear I’ll be right here and if you start to freeze up I’ll prompt you. You know, like that Steve Martin movie - what was it called? Oh yeah, Roxanne. Yeah, I’ll just feed you the lines and you use all your Kinney charms, tell him what I tell you and there’s no way you can fail. Now, knock already!”

‘Fucking famous last words,’ Brian thought to himself. ‘I can’t believe I’m relying on Mikey for relationship advice. Fuck, I can’t believe I need relationship advice in the first place. Oh well, here goes . . . ‘

*Knock, knock, knock*  

Brian barely waited for the door to be opened a teensy little crack before launching into his spiel. “I need to talk to Justin. I know he’s here. Just let me in so I can talk to him, okay, Daphne.”

The big hairy bear of a man dressed in a greasy t-shirt who actually answered the door smiled down at the handsome man who was babbling at him. “Nobody’s ever confused me and the ‘Daphinator’ before, mate. Hehehehe. From the lovelorn look and the sweaty brow, though, I’m guessing that you’re the handsome boyfriend who’s after little Justin’s ass? Gotta thank you for the porn and snacks, bro - Cassie and I had a mini-movie- marathon the other night with all the shit. It was a kick. Feel free to keep sending baskets of porn all you want . . .”

Seeing as Brian had been prepared to take on a little Daphne-sized Pittbull and not an overly-friendly Yogi The Bear-sized porn addict, he really didn’t know what to say when faced with this kind of greeting. His backup, Mikey, hadn’t really been prepared for this eventuality either. Both men ended up just standing in the doorway looking confused as Hector rambled on enthusiastically about all his favorite scenes in the pornos Brian had sent over.

“That’s enough, Hector. What have we discussed about you scaring off visitors?” Finally a familiar voice interrupted Hector’s running commentary and Brian almost cheered as Daphne appeared next to the big porno bear. “Leave the nice men alone and go back to your television where you belong, okay?” Daphne directed and the instantly obedient Hector obliged with only a disturbingly lascivious wink in Brian’s direction.

“I need to talk to Justin. I know he’s here. Just let me in so I can talk to him, okay, Daphne," Brian reiterated his practiced opening line now that he had the correct audience.

"He doesn't want to talk to you, Brian. I can't really blame him, either. You acted like a real shit, you know - although, just between you and me, I kinda like the pink hair; it gives him a bit of long-needed whimsy - and Justin is the sort who doesn't get angry easily, but once he does, it's practically impossible to convince him to forgive you. You've still got a looooong way to go before you're even close, Brian," Daphne explained with obvious empathy mixed up with an equal amount of resolve.

Brian was ready to give up right then. As if it wasn't difficult enough baring his soul, he was already getting shot down second-hand before he could even start. As he was starting to turn around and beat a hasty retreat, however, his surrogate conscience tightened the grip on Brian's shoulders and forcibly held him in place.

"You're not giving up that easily, Brian Kinney. Tell her what we practiced . . ." Michael ordered.

"I'm not telling HER!" Brian angrily whispered over his shoulder.

"Yes, you are, Brian. If it helps, it'll be worth it. And if not, consider this practice for when you do finally get to talk to Justin," Michael ordered firmly, still refusing to let Brian turn away. "Now, do it just like we discussed . . . remember, 'I love him. I miss him. I need him to come back home . . ."

"Michael," Brian whisper-whined in a tone almost worthy of his current mentor.

"Stop complaining and just do it, Brian!"

"Fine . . ." Brian returned his attention to the girl standing in front of him trying to control the unbridled giggling welling up at the sight of such a vulnerable and uncomfortable Brian Kinney. "Daphne, I - I need Justin to know . . . I just . . . I just don't like . . . Don't like it when he's . . . Uuuugggghhhh! I can't do this, Mikey."

"Stop it, you big chicken. Just say it!" Brian's speech coach demanded.

"I-I-I care about him, Daphne. I think, maybe, I l-l-love him . . ." Brian just barely choked out the words, and then immediately balked at the uncomfortable disclosure. "And this really sucks, you know that? Tell the little princess to get his ass out here. I didn't come over here to talk to his sweaty doorman or his pittbull body guard. Justin! JUSTIN! Get your little bubble butt out here!"

"Brian. Brian! BRIAN!" Michael, who had been trying to staunch his friend's incipient tirade from the beginning, finally got the big lout's attention. "What the fuck happened to doing it the way we practiced, Brian? Huh? We agreed on sweet and apologetic, not belligerent and demanding, you idiot! Do you really think the 'I love you, now get your ass out here and get home' approach is gonna work?"

"Fuck this, Mikey," Brian spat back at his angry little trainer. "This isn't me. I can't do this. Besides, the little princess is being a brat and I never agreed to bare my soul to Daphne and all her roommates in Justin's stead. If he can't come out here and face me like a man, then fuck it all!"

"But, Brian . . . Wait. Wait!" Michael hollered after the already retreating back of his too-stubborn friend as brian turned tail and practically ran down the stairs in a futile attempt to escape the vulnerability of the situation.

"Uh, sorry about that," Michael shrugged and grimaced at the curly-haired girl still standing in the doorway next to him as they watched Brian flee. "That did NOT go the way we'd planned."

"You can say that again," Daphne smiled sympathetically back at the short dark-haired man that she surmised was Michael, Brian's oldest friend. "But, for what it's worth, you can tell Brian that he at least started off on the right track. And just between you and me," Daphne added, dropping her voice down to a barely audible whisper, "I'm totally pulling for him. Brian and Justin were made for each other. It's not going to be easy, though. They're both so fucking stubborn . . . Just tell him I said not to give up yet." Then, in her normally brash voice Daphne added, "you better go now. I'll tell Justin you two stopped by. Goodnight."

Michael merely grinned at his new co-conspirator who winked at him even as she gently pushed him out the waiting door.

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

Monday - Morning.

"I am NOT going back there and baring my soul again to Hairy Hector or Daphne The Dementor, Mikey, and that's fucking final!" Brian insisted for the tenth time already that morning even as the two men stepped out of the elevator and headed towards Brian's Madison Avenue office.

Michael trailed after his dejected friend. They'd already had this conversation several times both last night and this morning over breakfast. Michael could clearly see how much Brian was hurting. Unfortunately, his big lout of a friend was still in the 'ranting and raving' phase of his Queen Out. He hadn't yet allowed Michael to get in two words. Being the trusty friend he was, though, Michael was prepared to simply wait Brian out, following at his heels and ready to try and talk some sense into him as soon as he ran out of steam.

"This whole thing was a huge fucking mistake. I don't know what I was thinking," Brian continued as soon as he'd slammed his office door shut. "The Pouting Princess obviously isn't interested in me anymore. I should never have . . . Oh, just fuck it all, Mikey. It's hopeless! He's never going to forgive me. Is anyone really surprised that I screwed up AGAIN? I should have known better. I should have listened to everyone that said I wasn't 'boyfriend material'. You should probably just go back to the Pitts already . . ."

"Sorry to interrupt your little Private Pity Party, Brian," Cynthia interjected as she stormed through the door right in the middle of her boss' rant. "Thought you'd want to know that Bryce Kennedy himself, along with Anita McMillan from the Art Department, and a whole herd of assistants are on their way up here to show you off to some big muckety-muck client. You need to put away the 'poor-woe-is-me-my-boyfriend-dumped-me' personae and put on your game face. This is your big chance to move up to that corner office on the executive floor and take me with you so that I can get out of 'cubicle hell' down here. You need to be brilliant. And you, Michael, need to get the hell out of here."

While she spoke, Cynthia was busy tidying up Brian's office, helping her boss put on his suit jacket and holding up a small hand mirror for him while the man checked his hair. She quickly opened up a desk drawer, swept the entire contents of Brian's desktop into it without ceremony and threw away about ten used Starbucks drink cups that had been littering various surfaces. As soon as both brian and his office were presentable, the able personal assistant grabbed hold of Michael's elbow and woman-handled the slightly shorter man out the door. It was just in time too, as that was the precise moment when the elevator doors opened wide, disgorging a phalanx of executive types all headed directly towards Brian's office.

"Brian? If you've got a moment, there's someone I'd like to introduce you to," Bryce Kennedy, the CEO of the agency, asked nonchalantly as he led his entire party of sycophants into Brian's relatively small office space.

"Don't be ridiculous, Brycie, dear. Of course the boy has 'got a moment' for the head of the agency and its most important client. I can't stand it when people try to act all used-car-salesman-like around me. Now, where is this wunderkind that's going to wow my pantyhose off right over my garters? Huh?" commented a tiny, slightly squeaky voice from somewhere in the center of the crowd of people, it's owner still unseen by Brian.

"I was only trying to be polite, Tanta Estelle," Bryce Kennedy replied with an indulgent smile on his face. "Now then, if you'll stop berating me like I was still a child, and come over here, I'll introduce you already."

"You shouldn't be talking back to your Aunt like like that, young man!" Exclaimed the tiny voice again as its owner, a diminutive elderly woman, finally stepped out from the huddle of people standing in Brian's doorway.

"Brian, this formidable lady is Estelle Geddes, my aunt and also the chairwoman of the Board of Directors at The Met. Tanta Estelle, this is Brian Kinney, our newest AdExec and the man responsible for the recent Furry Friends’ Flightplans campaign, the ads for which you seem practically fixated on lately."

"Ahhhhh! Well, if it isn't the tall, dark-haired half of the Twitterpated-Twosome who's been so handsomely blocking access to the elevator in my building," the little woman exclaimed as soon as she recognized Brian.

Brian instantly recalled the night after their second date when he and Justin had been castigated by this same feisty older woman in the lobby of their apartment building. "Ms. Geddes. It's lovely to formally make your acquaintance," Brian replied politely, bowing and reaching out to bring the wrinkled and arthritic, yet somehow still elegant, older woman's hand to his lips for a kiss in greeting. "And I assure you that I've been doing my best not to obstruct any elevators these days."

"Well, that's too bad - it was quite the entertaining sight, if I do say so myself," the old woman added with a charming, low-pitched, yet gleeful laugh. "How is your pretty little blond friend, Mr. Kinney? I haven't seen the two of you making out in the lobby for a while. I hope he hasn't moved on to blocking some other old lady's elevator - I'd hate to be deprived of the sight of his cute little behind rubbing up against the elevator call button while you're eating his face off! *Hah!*" her cackling laughter raising corresponding titters from the rest of the assembly.

"Tanta Estelle!" Bryce Kennedy playfully kidded with his aunt. "You're going to get me in trouble if you keep making inappropriate comments like that to my staff."

"Oh, you hush now, Brycie! I'm 84 years old - which means I can get away with being inappropriate all I want. If anyone complains just tell 'em I'm going senile and can't control myself. Besides, there's nothing wrong with showing a little appreciation for the beautiful things in life - and this young man kissing his partner definitely qualifies as a beautiful thing. I believe the modern term for it is that they're 'Hot'?" the spirited little woman asserted, making air quotes and giggling like a woman fifty years younger at her own naughtiness.

"By 'blond friend', Ms. Geddes wouldn't be referring to Mr. Taylor, would she?" Anita McMillan asked, looking towards Brian with a knowing smile. "If that IS who you're talking about, it just might interest you to know that it was Mr. Taylor who was the contract artist on that Furry Friends’ Flightplans campaign. He's quite an amazing young artist, actually. I just recently purchase some of his artwork for my own office."

"Yes, actually, my blond friend with the 'hot' little behind - as you so accurately described him, Ms. Geddes - was also the artist who worked with me on that campaign. And you're right, Anita, he's truly an amazing artist," Brian couldn't help the note of pride in his voice when he bragged about his lover's artistic skills.

"Well, isn't that propitious!" Estelle Geddes announced. "Then I'll get the pleasure of meeting him properly when we all get together next week. In the meantime, you can start working on the new ads for my museum. Tell Mr. Taylor that I look forward to seeing him again. Now, Brycie, you'll get everything set up for me, I assume? Mr. Kinney, it's been a pleasure. I'll see you next week and I'm sure we'll come up with something brilliant. Now, all of you butt-kissing layabouts get out of my way so I can get out of here. I haven't got all day, you know. Move it!" Ms. Geddes demanded, nudging several of the fawning assistants out of her way with the polished wood cane she carried in order to clear a path for herself back to the elevator.

“Kinney, I’ll expect you and Taylor in my office tomorrow morning at 9:00,” Bryce Kennedy directed over his shoulder as he trotted off after his Aunt.

“But . . .” Brian didn’t have time to explain that that might be problematic - Mr. Kennedy was already in the elevator along with his posse of yes-men and his Aunt. “Shit!” he complained to himself as the elevator doors closed.

“Problems, Kinney?” Anita McMillan, who had stayed behind the rest in order to talk to Brian, asked the frowning and pacing AdExec.

“I don’t know if I can get Taylor to work on this project,” Brian started to advise his co-worker.

“Nonsense,” McMillan cut him off before he could explain further. “Taylor is an aspiring artist and when the Metropolitan Museum of Art calls, any aspiring artist with an ounce of ambition would be stupid if he didn’t jump at the opportunity.”

With that, Anita seemed to think that the matter was settled. She turned and headed off towards the staircase that would take her back to her Art Department. Brian just stood there and stared off into space thinking about how he could work this.

Brian wasn’t so sure that Justin’s stubbornness wouldn’t outweigh even his ambition.  

Chapter 38 - Drastic Measures.

"Twenty-seven messages!" Justin exclaimed vociferously while Daphne sat passively and, like a good friend, let the guy vent. "Twenty-seven! Can you believe the gall of that asshole?” Justin’s continued raving was interrupted briefly by a *bing bing* from his phone alerting him to yet another incoming text message. “Fuck! Make that Twenty-Eight now. And, if it wasn’t bad enough that Brian’s been annoying me nonstop all day, he’s even got his secretary - some chick named Cynthia - calling and texting me too. What do I have to do to get him to stop and just leave me alone!” Justin angrily tapped at the icon on his phone to delete the latest message without even looking at it.

At that point, Justin seemed to finally let up enough that Daphne could actually make a comment. “Um, Jus, have you actually listened to any of the messages or read the texts? I mean, it might actually be something other than him just stalking you, you know. Don’t you think that maybe even Brian wouldn’t have called and texted you twenty-eight times in one day unless it was important?”

“No! I’m not going to read his drivel, Daphne. I’m sure it’s just more of the same. Just Brian thinking he can bully me into letting him have another chance. Well, this is one time that he’s just going to have to learn that he doesn’t always get his way . . .”

Daphne wasn’t at all upset when a knock on the door gave her a legitimate excuse to get up and abandon her post as the sympathetic ear for her friend. While Justin muttered on to himself, Daphne jumped off the couch and practically leapt towards the door, grateful for any respite. She had only just barely cracked the door open though, when the door was forcefully pushed open, knocking her backwards onto her ass on the carpet. As she was lying there, still in shock and wondering if this was the start of some horrific home-invasion, the injured girl got her first glimpse of the thug pushing his unwanted way into the apartment.

It was none other than a harried and desperate looking Brian Kinney.

“Jesus Roosevelt Christ, Brian. What the fuck do you think you’re doing, busting in here like that. Get the fuck out, right this minute,” Daphne griped as she rubbed at her now bruised ass and slowly got back onto her feet.

Brian, whose gaze had immediately focused in on the man he was there seeking, completely ignored the girl on the floor and stalked over to his wayward blond boy. “Justin. Finally! You’re a very difficult man to get ahold of, Sunshine,” Brian commented with a small smile on his face that was part sexy smirk, part needy lustfulness and part bashful embarrassment.

“Get the fuck out of here, Brian. I don’t want to talk to you,” Justin growled, turning his back and standing there with his legs in a wide stance and his arms crossed, clearly not in an open mood.

“Good, because I don’t want you to talk. I want you to listen. Are you listening, Sunshine?” Brian came up behind Justin and quickly put his left hand on the younger man’s shoulder in an attempt to at least establish some physical contact.

“No! I’m not listening, you fucking moron. I’m out of here!” Justin insisted, tearing away from Brian’s grip and stomping off towards the dining table where his jacket was slung over the back of one of the chairs.

“Justin. Please, Sunshine, I just want to talk . . . Justin, wait! JUSTIN!” Brian watched hopelessly while Justin donned his jacket and started to gather up his wallet and other small items, clearly serious about leaving without hearing Brian out.

The almost frantic Brian took two large paces towards Justin where he was still puttering around the dining table. He had to do something to make Justin stop. If the stupid little twat would just give him five minutes to explain, Brian knew he’d have a chance. How could he make Justin stay long enough to listen to him? How? There had to be some way . . .

That’s when Brian’s eye was caught by the sight of the big red gift box sitting on the end of the dining table. It was the very same gift box full of sex toys that he’d sent to Justin earlier in the week. Part of the contents from the box were spilled out over the surface of the table where the apartments’ residents had pawed through the various goodies. And by some fortuitous accident, the one item that was closest to where Brian was standing just happened to be a pair of fuzzy black handcuffs that had been included in the gift box.

“Do NOT be here when I get back, Brian!” Justin spat out venomously, his expression so hostile that it froze a little piece of Brian’s already wounded heart.

And that’s when Brian simply lost it. Without even consciously thinking about it, the desperate man grabbed ahold of the pair of handcuffs sitting on the table edge, reached around Justin’s shoulder and snapped one cuff around the younger man’s left wrist. Then, without hesitating even a moment, he snapped the other cuff around his own larger right wrist. Brian also grabbed up the key to the cuffs, which came with its own fuzzy keychain fob, from where it was waiting on the tabletop and shoved the whole thing down the front of his pants.

“What the FUCK!” the incensed and now handcuffed blond boy screamed while he yanked his arm back, futilely trying to twist his wrist out of the fur-lined metal. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Brian. Have you gone totally insane? Give me the fucking key right this fucking minute!”

“No.” Brian stubbornly replied.

“No? NO? You don’t get to just say, ‘NO’, Brian. Get these cuffs off of me NOW!”

“No, Sunshine. I’m not going to take them off until you fucking listen to me,” Brian insisted, and only shrank back a tiny bit in the face of the enraged twink advancing on him, clearly intent on ripping off Brian’s arm if that was the only way to get the cuffs off.

“Give me the keys!” Justin howled and tore at the waistband of Brian’s jeans, focused solely on getting to the fuzzy fob hidden in his pants.

With a strong tug, Justin easily managed to pop the top button on Brian’s pants. Brian tried in vain to scoot away from Justin’s questing hands but was hampered by the fact that he was now tethered to the boy by the wrist. With single-minded intent, Justin shoved his free hand down the front of Brian’s pants and started groping around for something small, hard, cold and fuzzy - i.e. the key. The fuzzy part wasn’t really all that difficult - there was always a lot of fuzziness associated with Brian’s crotch - but most of the parts Justin grabbed onto were nice and warm. You might even say they were hot. And the more Justin scrounged around down there, the harder and warmer most of the contents of Brian’s jeans got. Before too long, there wasn’t much that could be described as ‘small’ down there either.

With all the groping and rooting about in his pants, Brian rather quickly forgot about the fact that he was supposed to be trying to keep Justin out of his knickers. Rather than squirming away from the fumbling fingers, Brian moaned rather loudly and found himself melting into Justin’s touch. Which, although completely understandable since he’d been without any Sunshine gropage for far too long, was of course a huge error in judgment on his part. As soon as Brian stopped fighting, Justin almost immediately latched onto the item he’d been after in Brian’s pants, and to Brian’s disappointment it wasn’t his cock.

“Aha!” Justin crowed in triumph as he finally extricated the fuzzy keyfob from the front of Brian’s now rather full pants.  

Brian shook his lust-clouded head a few times and luckily came back to his senses while Justin was still fumbling around trying to get the miniscule key into the small hole in the underside of the metal part of the cuff.

“No! I’m not letting you get away until you listen to me, Justin!” Brian insisted, deftly pulling the fuzzy keys out of Justin’s grasp and chucking them across the room as far as he could.

“Damn you, Brian!” Justin shrieked and tried to run after the keys.

Brian merely planted his feet and used his bulk to hold his ground, causing Justin to jerk back at the end of his cuffed reach and rebound back against the sturdy larger man’s chest. Brian took advantage of Justin’s being off balance, to scoop him up bodily and deposit the struggling blond bundle onto the nearby couch. When Justin immediately started to stand up, obviously intent on making another attempt to reach the keys, Brian did the first thing he thought of, pushing the struggling blond back into the couch cushions and sitting on his chest.

“Get off of me, Brian! GET OFF!”

Justin fought and squirmed and tried to twist his way out from under the weight of Brian’s body, but to no avail. Brian simply refused to budge except to make himself even more comfortable on his Justin perch. After a good five minutes of this senseless battle, Justin, now exhausted, fell quiet and ceased his wiggling. For several moments more the only sound in the small apartment was Justin’s panting. Slowly, however, the silence was broken by the gleeful peal of Daphne’s laughter.

“Stop laughing and help me over here, Daphne,” Justin complained, trying his best to give his friend the evil eye from his uncomfortable position smooshed between the cushions and Brian’s boney ass.

All Justin’s pleading only made Daphne laugh even harder. Looking at the two of them through her eyes, Brian soon saw the humor in the situation and before long his low chuckling joined Daphne’s more riotous giggles. Justin, stubborn little twat that he was, refused to admit there was anything even remotely amusing about his predicament and just lay there pinned underneath Brian and fumed. For a good ten minutes. While Brian and Daphne laughed their fucking heads off at him. And made Justin even more pissed off. And annoyed. And . . . well, it WAS a little bit funny, Justin finally conceded in his own mind, but he wasn’t going to let those two oafs know that. At least not until he’d got Brian to let him up.

“Fucking fine . . .” Justin knew he had no choice and gave in with poor grace. “Fine, okay. I’ll fucking listen to you. So . . . talk already, asshole!”

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

After Brian and Daphne eventually quelled their laughter, and Brian agreed to let Justin sit on the couch the correct way up, he launched into a long winded explanation of the twenty-eight phone messages and texts, the teensy-tiny woman with the badass sense of humor, and his bosses’ imperative that Justin Taylor WOULD be doing the artwork for this campaign. As soon as Justin heard that the project was for his favorite museum - The Metropolitan Museum of Art - he was all ears. And by the end of the explanation, it seemed like Justin had forgotten his previously strenuous dislike for Brian Kinney, the man, in his enthusiasm for working with Brian Kinney, the AdExec.

The young artist was instantly energized by this incredible opportunity. His mind was whirling with ideas. For the first time in weeks the awkward distance between the two men seemed to disappear. Brian wisely didn’t bring up the fact that he hoped working together on this project would help him to win back his guy permanently. Instead, the older man just sat back and enjoyed being back in Justin’s presence for a time, reveling in the youngster’s creative intensity.

“Okay, Brian. Of course, I’ll happily work with you on this project,” Justin agreed as soon as Brian came to the end of his long-winded explanation. “But that’s all this is . . . You understand that, right?”

“Uh . . . Whatever, Justin. I . . .” Brian stuttered, trying to buy time to come up with a response that wouldn’t immediately piss his blond boy off again, all the time wondering if Justin had somehow developed mind reading skills.

Justin rolled his eyes and shook his head at Brian’s obvious avoidance of the subject. He knew exactly where Brian Kinney thought he could take this and he didn’t intend to fall for this or any of the man’s other manipulations. But he wouldn’t let his uneasiness at being around Brian keep him away from this unprecedented opportunity either. Justin would deal with Brian later if, or when, the man tried to breach the boundaries of acceptable co-worker behavior.

“Brian . . . just get these fucking handcuffs off so we can start working. The sooner we get this project completed, the sooner you’ll be free to go back to fucking your way through the Big Apple,” Justin couldn’t resist adding in just one more little dig at Brian’s expense - he would help the man on the ad campaign but he wasn’t expected to be a saint, now was he?

Brian ignored the little quip. At this point he was reasonably sure that Justin wouldn’t try to escape once he was released so it was probably safe to take off the cuffs, right? He twisted around in his seat, scanning the area along the far wall where he’d tossed the key earlier, but for some strange reason, he didn’t see it where he thought it'd be.

“I thought I tossed the key over here by the wall,” Brian said, pulling Justin up off the couch and towing him along behind while he searched the far side of the room where he thought the key should still be. “Where the fuck did it go?” Brian complained when it wasn’t immediately located.

“You’re the one who tossed it over here, Brian. Not me! Where the fuck did you throw it?” Justin criticized, not happy at all at being constantly jerked around while Brian wandered around with his eyes glued to the ugly brown carpet.

“Hey, guys,” Daphne interrupted the arguing duo and pointed towards the opposite side of the room where the short hallway down to the bedroom and bath was located.

As one, both Brian and Justin turned to look where Daph was directing their attention. Sitting there in the middle of the passageway, looking as inscrutable and enigmatic as always, was Winston the Cat. Dangling from the corner of his little furry mouth, both men could plainly see a fuzzy black thing that looked decidedly chewed up. There was a glimpse of the metal chain, which would presumably lead to the handcuff key, still visible amid the mangled fuzzy fob bits, but it looked like most of the length of the keychain had already disappeared into the maw of the far-too-curious cat. Even as they watched, the silly feline gagged a bit on the parts of the keychain that they could see - his little mouth working furiously to get the rest of the dangling pieces to follow the rest of the contraption down his gullet.

“Grab that fucking CAT!” Brian screamed and made a futile dive for the wily feline but he was significantly hampered by his chain-gang buddy, Justin, who hadn’t been at all ready for the drastic movement and stumbled then fell, pulling Brian down with him.

In the meantime, Winston capered off to the protection of the bedroom. He was later found under the far recesses of Daphne’s bed. Unfortunately, by that time, the remains of the key fob, and presumably the key to the handcuffs as well, had vanished into the depths of the cat.

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

“Brian, if you don’t quit jerking at my arm like that, I won’t be able to finish this drawing,” Justin grumbled after about the tenth time that a restless Brian had pulled a bit too hard on the handcuffs attached to Justin’s left wrist.

“Shit. Didn’t mean to jostle you. Again. I’m just not used to doing shit with my left hand and I keep automatically reaching for stuff with my right hand,” Brian explained as he shuffled through a pile of papers detailing demographics for the Met that he’d brought home from work earlier. “So, it looks like the average age of most visitors to the museum is roughly a thousand years old. There’s a bit of a spike in school age kids who are presumably being dragged there by parents or grandparents or maybe on school field trips. But there’s a huge age gap. If we really want to increase attendance, we have to find a fun way to get young adults to visit . . .” Brian said, thinking aloud while he looked over another stack of research and once again joggled Justin.

In total exasperation, Justin gave up trying to draw and laid his sketchpad on the small coffee table in front of the couch. He and Brian had relocated back to their old apartment to get started on the Met project earlier in the evening - they were under a tight deadline if they wanted to have something to present to Bryce Kennedy by 9:00 am the next morning - while Daphne was delegated to rush Winston off to the vet hospital. The hope was that the vet could get the keys back for them without too much trouble, provided they got the cat there right away. In the meantime, they tried to ignore the inconvenience of working while tethered together.

“Well, like you always say, Brian, the thing that sells best is sex. So we just have to make this campaign sexy enough to catch the eye of the twenty-somethings - fuck knows there’s enough of them in New York City. And they tend to have lots of disposable income. We just have to show that art is sexy . . .” Justin added, trying to get his mind to focus on the task at hand and not the fate of his cat.

‘Yeah, right. How do you make art sexy. Isn’t it all about some old grey-haired types ogling boring landscapes?” Brian teased.

“Um, Brian . . . you have been to the Met, haven’t you?” Justin couldn’t help but take offence to that little comment. “You do know there’s more nudity and sex inside the Met than on most porn websites, right? I mean, they have whole wings of nude statues and paintings. Art is pretty much ALL about sex. I mean, even the fucking landscapes are erotic half the time.”

While he was speaking, Justin opened his laptop and started pulling up pictures from the Met’s archives showing one nude painting or statue after another.

Brian spent a good few minutes admiring the pictures that Justin had pulled up, especially ogling a sepia-colored pencil drawing of one young man with a rather nicely shaped ass. Justin simply sat back and smirked as he noted that Brian was definitely getting turned on by the images. ‘That’ll show him’, he thought. ‘How could anyone think art wasn’t sexy?’

“So what?” Brian went on as soon as he’d had a good eyeful of the hot male asses of the Met. “You’re saying we should advertise the Met like a porn site? ‘Get Off On Art’, or something like that? I’m not sure that the hoity-toity board of directors that runs the place are going to go for that, Justin.”

“Well, that’s the general idea,” Justin shrugged, intrigued by Brian’s idea. “Maybe something a bit less blunt, though. Something a little more urbane, perhaps? Not, ‘Get Off On Art’, but something . . .”

Justin grabbed for his sketchpad once again, his brain suddenly lit up with a flood of ideas. His graphite pencil flew across the page. He was grinning down at his creation the entire time with an almost manic look on his face, his nose wrinkled up with humor and his sweet, full lips screwed up in a mischievous grin that made Brian just want to ravish the sexy blond right then and there.

“How about this . . .” Justin announced as he turned the sketchpad around and showed Brian a drawing of his latest idea.

Justin’s hastily drawn picture showed an abstract nude statue of a woman - obviously something he’d seen before at the Met or some other museum - and in front of it a lecherous-looking old man in a trenchcoat flashing the statue. The caption at the bottom of the drawing read: ‘Expose Yourself To Art!’*****

“Expose yourself to art,” Brian repeated the caption, shaking his head while a slow smile spread across his face at the sheer audacity of the concept. “Justin, that is simply . . .”

“What? Brilliant? Laughable? Stupid? Inane?” Justin wasn’t sure from Brian’s expression exactly what his reaction was.

“It’s fucking genious! I LOVE it!” Brian burst into riotous laughter. “It’s perfect! It’s totally sexy and daring, but just restrained enough that nobody could really take offense since it doesn’t show anything truly offensive.”

“Even better, what if we had the members of the Board of Directors pose for the photos for the campaign,” Justin proposed, gleeful now that he was sure Brian was on board with his crazy idea. “You know, all the little old ladies and gents being just slightly naughty and flashing their favorite art pieces. There’s no way they could object to the campaign when they were the subjects. Plus, it’ll flatter them to no end that you want them to be part of the campaign. And I can just see that little old lady, Ms. Geddes, totally getting off on having her picture on some billboard with her flashing some hot, hunky, naked male statue. She’d be perfect for the copy!” Justin was drawing more ideas in his sketchpad as he spoke, showing all types of folks ‘Exposing’ themselves to various types of art at the Met. He even humorously added one drawing of the old man flashing the ‘Mona Lisa’ even though he knew it would never be shown at the Met. He’d also located a photo of one of the Met’s art pieces depicting a flasher and had drawn a picture of two men flashing the flasher painting. It was brilliant!

Brian was enthralled with the idea. They spent the better part of the next two hours fleshing out the idea. Miraculously, they were so thrilled with their ideas, that they almost forgot that they were still handcuffed together. Once the ideas started to flow, they seemed to work together almost seamlessly. In fact, if it weren’t for Daphne buzzing from the lobby downstairs when she got back from the vet with Winston, they would have gone on all night without noticing their ongoing involuntary bondage.

As soon as Brian opened the door, Daphne lugged the unwieldy cat carrier through the door of the apartment and immediately let out the howling, unhappy pussy. Justin was about to scoop up his pet into his arms, but changed his mind as Winston hissed at him and raised one claw in warning. This cat had NOT had a fun evening and was not about to let his people forget just how angry he really was. Justin wisely backed away from the snarling beast. Winston immediately ran off to hide in the darkest corner he could find, hoping to never be subjected to such indignities again.

“Soooooo,” Daphne flopped herself down on the couch next to Justin and started to explain about her oh-so-wonderful trip to the vet hospital. “The key is definitely in there. The vet took x-rays to be sure. The whole key chain is clearly visible right there in Winston’s belly,” Daphne handed over the paper printouts of the x-ray the vet gave her so the two men could see. “The vet tried to give him this gunk that would make him vomit the key up, but it didn’t seem to work. The vet suggested either surgery or just waiting and watching Winston carefully to see if the key would pass through the normal digestive process. If it doesn’t pass within the next 2-4 days or if he’s showing signs of distress, then the only alternative would be surgery to remove it.”

“Shit! Two to four days? There’s no way we’re waiting two to four days to get out of these cuffs,” Brian insisted vehemently. “Do you think there’s a locksmith on call this late at night that could help us?”

“I doubt it,” Daphne chuckled, still as amused at the predicament the men found themselves in as she had been when it had happened. “Besides, the vet did say it could be sooner - it all depends on how much Winston’s eaten recently and whether or not the key gets stuck somewhere during the process. If he hasn’t eaten much, it could be as little as a couple hours before your key reappears. But since we’re talking a honking huge piece of metal - definitely not something that would normally be part of a cat’s diet - it could take as long as 4 days to eliminate. The vet really didn’t know how long it would be.”

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Brian exclaimed, not very happy with the uncertainty, especially when he was facing a very pressing deadline and a meeting with the senior partner of his firm about an extremely important client in just over six hours. “What if we had the vet cut it out right now? Could he do that? You said he suggested surgery as one option, right?”

“No fucking way!” Justin objected very loudly. “You’re not having my cat cut open. This whole fucking situation is your fault, Brian. It wasn’t Winston who thought it was a good idea to handcuff us together so you could make me sit and listen to you. And it’s not his fault you threw the key chain across the room like it was one of his normal cat toys. I’m not letting you carve him up like a Thanksgiving turkey just because you were a complete moron! You can just deal with the consequences of your own stupidity, Brian!”

“Need I remind you, Justin, that you’re part of this situation too? If you hadn’t thrown a complete hissy fit and had just listened to one of my messages or read one of my texts, I wouldn’t have had to resort to this extreme measure in order to get you to listen to me. And the longer it takes to get the key back out of your insane cat, the longer we’re subjected to this,” Brian held up their adjoined wrists as evidence.  

Justin looked at Brian with evident disdain. The easy camaraderie they’d been feeling earlier while working on the campaign together was fragile. Brian watched as Justin’s countenance exhibited a panoply of emotions ranging from distrust to hurt to anger. Brian immediately knew that his comment about sending the Fuzzbeast straight to the surgical table had not gone over well. And, as he held up their cuffed wrists, Brian almost immediately rethought his last comment. Was it really such a bad idea to keep Justin chained to him indefinitely? He’d been trying everything he could think of to get his blond roomie back - well, now that he had him and Justin couldn’t easily get away, why NOT keep him that way for a while? If he was smart, Brian could work this little scenario to his advantage, couldn’t he? Time to get just a tad devious, he thought to himself.

“I’m sorry,” Brian said as sincerely as he could, seeing as that expression didn’t pass his lips very often. “I shouldn’t have said that about Winston. You know I wouldn’t have followed through. I’m just frustrated . . . But, it’s no big deal, right? We can just wait it out. I’m sure the key will reappear in a day or so. And, in the meantime, we’ll just have to deal with this,” Brian again held up their tethered wrists.

Justin was momentarily taken aback by Brian’s retreat on the subject. While he would never allow Brian to have his cat cut open just to get the key back, he didn’t for a moment think that Brian would just give up so quickly. He was starting to suspect that Brian had ulterior motives.

“That’s okay, Brian. But we don’t have to wait all that long. We can go ahead and call a locksmith, like you suggested,” Justin offered.

“At this time of night? I can just imagine the exorbitant prices any locksmith would charge for a housecall at this hour. No, I’m not going that route, Justin,” Brian pretended to sound offended at the idea of paying such costs merely to get them out of the cuffs tonight. “You know what? Why don’t I just call Cynthia and have her schedule a teleconference meeting for tomorrow morning instead of us having to be in Kennedy’s office in person? We can scan your drawings so that the boss can see them without us being there in person and we’ll just appear by video. That way we don’t have to worry about the cuffs at all until tomorrow after the meeting. In the meantime, we’ll just watch Winston carefully and hopefully the situation will simply resolve itself soon.”

“But . . . But, Brian, what are we going to do in the meantime . . . I mean for tonight?” Justin was stunned by Brian’s 180 degree turnabout with regard to the issue of the cuffs staying in place.

“Well, we’ll just have to make do, won’t we Justin?” Brian couldn’t help the tiniest hint of a smirk from escaping as he said this. “I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time we shared a bed, would it?”

Justin sat there with his mouth agape, trying to come up with just one good argument to combat Brian’s newfound reasonableness. For some reason he couldn’t come up with anything. How the fuck did he get himself into these situations? It didn’t help matters much that both Daphne and Brian were grinning at him almost maniacally, one on each side of him. Justin felt so trapped. This morning he had resolved not to even talk to Brian ever again. How did it work that he was now chained to his ex-lover, working together on the ad campaign of a lifetime and relegated to sleeping with him tonight? Maybe he’d been too hasty in his decision to keep Winston away from surgery?  

Winston, as if in response to Justin’s thoughts, at that moment let out a kitty-sized mewling groan and farted loudly from the far corner of the living room where he was now huddling as if in pain.

“Fuck!” Justin moaned, resigning himself and his cat into Brian's dubious care for the night.

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

*****I give all credit for this ‘Campaign’ to its real creator, Portland photographer Mike Ryerson, who took the original picture of Portland, Oregon’s soon-to-be-Mayor, Bud Clark, in 1978. This picture is a staple of life here in Portland. Clark sold copies of the photo to help pay off his campaign debt after he won the Mayoral election in 1984. He’s still around, if you ever want to visit - most days he can be found in the bar he still owns, the Goose Hollow Inn. I myself met him a few years ago, hung out in the bar with him and listened to his stories. He’s quite a character.

Chapter 39 - Brian’s Burden and Winston’s Woes

Brian was finally starting to relax. It had been a very, VERY, stressful evening, but he was now ensconced in his bed, lying on his left side with his right arm - the one still handcuffed to Justin’s left arm - draped over the smaller blond body of his once-and-hopefully-future boyfriend. After struggling through several aborted attempts - lying on their backs side-by-side, lying on their stomachs next to one another, trying to lay back-to-back angrily ignoring each other and various other equally uncomfortable arrangements - this seemed to be the only sleeping position that actually worked. Brian wasn’t complaining though. Lying together like this meant that he was spooned up behind Justin’s plump little ass, his left arm curled under their joint pillow and Justin’s arms curled into his chest while Brian’s right arm protectively encompassed all of the smaller blond. Lying this way, he could at last breathe easily. Shit, he’d really missed sleeping with Justin in his bed every night. Maybe he’d even get a good night’s sleep for a change.

Of course, it would be better if they were lying together like this naked. But, as they were trying to get ready for bed together, Justin wisely pointed out that the only way to get their respective clothing off while they were still handcuffed together was to cut the garments away. Brian was all in favor of that idea, even though it meant ruining one of his $350 Dolce Gabbana dress shirts, until Justin also pointed out the fact that once they had removed the shirts they were wearing, they wouldn’t be able to put other shirts back on. Which wouldn’t be bad, except that they did have that video conference call with Bryce Kennedy tomorrow morning, and Brian didn’t think he could get away with doing the call topless. Brian was a tad bit frustrated insofar as he didn’t have thorough skin-on-skin contact with the boy in his arms, but it was better than nothing.

The only problem he had now was that, the more Brian's mind relaxed, the more certain other parts of his anatomy became alerted to the situation. Fuck, it just felt so incredibly right to be holding Justin in his arms. The younger man's body seemed to fit just perfectly against his own. Justin was soft in all the right spots and yet hard where a man should be hard. Every single aspect of the pliant youthful frame seemed crafted specifically to arouse Brian's desire.

And his cock. His cock was certainly aroused. So much for the hope that he'd get some sleep finally.

In addition to still wearing their shirts, Justin had insisted that they both keep their briefs on. He’d even made Brian swear on his favorite Armani suit that he would be a gentleman and not take advantage of the situation. However, even the double layer of Justin's thin cotton tidy-whities and Brian's silk-rayon-blend boxer briefs barely muted the delicious warmth Brian felt emanating from the spot where his groin was pressed up against Justin's tempting ass. If anything, the gentle rub of the soft silky fabric against the sensitive tip of his cock added even more to the stimulation. It felt like, every single time Justin so much as took a breath, his ass would slightly caress Brian’s now achingly hard dick. It was the most exquisite torture Brian had ever encountered.

When Justin sighed in his sleep and unconsciously wriggled just enough so that Brian’s dick aligned itself perfectly along the warm length of Justin’s ass crack, Brian didn’t even try to stifle his involuntary guttural moan. It was almost like their bodies were subliminally trying to tell them something - that they were meant to be fucking. If it wasn’t true, then why did they fit together so well? Why was it that Justin’s ass unconsciously gravitated to his dick even when the boy was sound asleep? Why did Brian’s dick twitch and strain, trying to get into that ass, even while Brian’s conscious mind was trying desperately to tell it to behave? Brian had never in his entire life regretted anything more than the promise he’d given not to try any funny business during the night.

Resigned to a night of not sleeping, and expecting to suffer through the world’s worst ever case of blue balls come morning, Brian simply lay there through the rest of the night, trying to enjoy the feel of Justin next to him without giving into his puerile desires. He concentrated on listening to the sounds of silence in the apartment: Justin’s soft, raspy almost-snoring; the wall clock in the living room ticking away loudly; the mysterious intermittent clicking and whirring of his laptop computer, which he’d left open on the top of his dresser nearby; the random wooden noises of the building settling around him; the occasional buzzing of a fly over by the window; the rush of water through the pipes as other residents flushed a toilet or turned on a tap; and, eventually, the comforting low rumbling purr of the cat once Winston unlatched the bedroom door for himself and made a snug nest at the foot of the bed. The homey noises and the feel of his warm bed companion near to him at least kept Brian from completely losing it as he waited out the night.

Then, in the small hours just before dawn, fate rewarded Brian for his patience, his chivalry and his long, solitary, sexless vigil.

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

While Brian was suffering his own form of torment, Winston had also been restless for most of the night. He wasn’t sleeping his normal, happy, contented, kitty sleep. He’d felt pretty uncomfortable the entire night. It seemed like the fuzzy kitty toy he’d consumed earlier wasn’t agreeing with him.

Winston was sure it had something to do with his trip to that horrible place where the curly-haired human had put him on the cold metal table and held him still while the evil-smelling human - the one they called ‘The Vet’ - had prodded and poked at him. Winston despised The Vet. Nothing good ever came from a visit to The Vet. It was a bad place. It was a place of pain and terror. The home of The Vet was basically a pussy-cat’s version of Hell.

Luckily, this time, Winston had not been subjected to any of the long, sharp, metal slivers that were often poked into his body by The Vet. However he had been forced to swallow an inordinate amount of foul-tasting goop which had been injected into his mouth by The Vet even while he struggled valiantly to claw and bite the hand that was force feeding him the concoction. Winston did not like the goop at all. It made him want to vomit. But Winston simply refused to give in to The Vet. He suspected that The Vet wanted to somehow get back Winston’s new fuzzy cat toy - the one he’d swallowed earlier in order to keep it adequately subdued - and he would not let The Vet have it. It was HIS toy and he would not let someone like The Vet play with it. Knowing The Vet, the evil git might try to take his toy away, and Winston would have none of that.

The brave and resolute cat had fought all night to hold back on the urge to upchuck the icky goop. He was a cat, after all. He didn’t simply succumb to the manipulations of people like The Vet. It was really a matter of principle. No cat with any strength of character would ever give in to the likes of The Vet.

But even the most morally courageous of cats must sometimes admit defeat when faced with overwhelming odds. Winston had put up a heroic struggle. He had tried not to succumb to the effects of the goop. He really had. But after fighting the good fight for several hours, Winston had to finally admit that his traitorous body wasn’t as strong as his kitty willpower would have hoped.

Leaping down off the bed where his people were slumbering, Winston made it as far as the closet before he finally gave in to the effects of The Vet’s goop. Finding the closest available leather boot, Winston ceded defeat and let his body’s natural physical reactions take over. Hacking and wheezing away, Winston relinquished all control and eventually coughed up an exceptionally large and gooey hairball, along with the now partially digested fuzzy cat toy - i.e. the handcuff key chain - into the new person’s wonderfully smelling shoes.

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

From his place on the bed where he was wrapped around the body of the boy he was forbidden to ravish - at least for the time being - Brian had heard the distinct sounds of the little Fuzz Monster spitting, coughing and finally hawking up what he suspected would be a horrendously gross vomitous mass of hair, cat food and, hopefully, the handcuff key. Brian could tell from the direction whence the sounds were emanating, that the cat was probably doing whatever he was doing in the depths of his closet. He knew that his shoes were once again at risk - why the fuck did that cat have it in for his Pradas?

Brian really hated the idea that Winston was probably once again depositing his latest installment of foulness somewhere in his closet - probably a shoe, but he wasn’t about to relinquish his ultra-comfy spot wrapped around a heavenly blond boy in order to fend off the vomiting cat. He made a note to check it out later - and throw out any clothing that had been contaminated in the process. But the prospect of looking at yet another furrball wasn’t enticing enough to get Brian out of bed, in spite of the dull ache in his crotch from the long night of unrequited desire.

As soon as the sky outside the bedroom window started to turn a muted winter gold, however, Brian was ready to rouse his bedmate and get the day started. He was more than ready to shift positions - at least long enough to get Justin’s ass far enough away from his throbbing dick to let his boner subside.

Craning his neck around so that he could reach the softly stubbled cheek, Brian began leaving tiny, soft-lipped kisses along the side of Justin's face. The youth sighed in his sleep and unconsciously arched his back so that his rear ground even more snugly into Brian's groin. Brian's resulting moan sounded almost like a sob. It hurt so good.

"You're fucking killing me here, Sunshine," Brian groaned. He didn't even try to stop himself this time when his hips almost involuntarily tilted forward so that his cock rubbed deliciously against that full, tempting bubble butt. "I'm warning you now, Justin, if we don't get out of this bed in the next thirty seconds, my promise not to take advantage of our enforced closeness won't be worth fucking squat. I'm not made out of steel, you know."

"You might not be, but it sure as hell feels like your dick is," Justin teased in his typical low, sleepy morning voice.

Justin's teasing and seductive tone was far too erotic for Brian this morning. He bit his bottom lip, trying desperately to stem the rising tide of desire he wasn't sure he could control any longer. Justin, that little scamp, had meanwhile twisted around just enough to get a good view of the pained expression on his bedmate's face. Brian looked like he was about to explode. Justin giggled at the almost pathetic sight.  

Unfortunately, Brian was simply no match for that sweet, melodious giggle. It was too much. With a creaky, wheezing, inarticulate and pain-filled cry, the poor tortured man squeezed his arms where they were already circled around Justin's middle, thrust his hips once hard against the boy's ass and then let go completely. While his body shook and spasmed, a flood of cum drenched the front of Brian's boxer briefs. Panting, his body finally sagging with relief, Brian ignored the seeping wetness and let himself collapse as he draped halfway across Justin's smaller body. The younger man broke out into peals of laughter.

"Don't fucking laugh, you twat," Brian rasped out as soon as he caught his breath. "This is all your fault. Fucking perfect ass rubbing up against me all fucking night long . . . " Brian's complaints only engendered more laughter from the young blond. "Probably planned this all along, didn't you? Is this just your way of getting back at me? Huh?" Brian added, sheepishly smiling now - Justin's laughter infecting him enough so that he was unwillingly able to see the humor in the situation after all.

"My fault? Need I remind you who resorted to using handcuffs?" Justin shot back, although his voice had lost much of its accusatory tone. "I'd say it serves you right, Mr. Kinney. Next time you try and take some innocent boy hostage, you should think of the consequences first."

"Innocent my ass, Brat!" was Brian's only reply, although his words were tempered with a conciliatory kiss to Justin's cheek. "Whatever. Now though, Sunshine, if you can quit laughing at me for a minute or two, I'd really like to untangle ourselves enough to move out of this wet cum puddle your too-hot ass caused and get cleaned up before our teleconference. Do you think you can hold back on your amusement for at least that long?"

Justin gave one last amused snort before he consented. He rolled out from under Brian's enveloping right arm and managed to awkwardly sit up with his body facing the headboard of the bed and his cuffed left arm stretched across towards Brian. However, right as Justin started to move away towards the far edge of the bed, Brian tried to sit up himself. Since Brian was facing the foot of the bed, getting up the same way he normally would by sitting up and then twisting his body to the right so he could stand, it caused him to jerk Justin's left arm violently. The boy was off balance enough that the tug upended him and pulled him down so he ended up in an inelegant face plant on the mattress. Brian tittered at the sight, feeling just a bit of vengeful glee at Justin's predicament.

Brian sense of superiority only lasted a few briefs moments, though. Justin, who decidedly did NOT like being laughed at so early in the morning, casually rolled onto his back and used both his arm muscles and his body mass to unceremoniously yank Brian down onto the bed next to him. Brian's laughter was cut off by the surprised yelp he let out as he felt himself falling just as ungracefully. When Brian opened his mouth to angrily protest, Justin simply smirked at him and all Brian's complaints evaporated.

"Shall we try this again, Brian," Justin asked in his most saccharine sweet voice. "And this time, how about I lead?"

"Fine. Just lead me by way of my dresser and my closet first so I can grab some clean pants, okay?" Brian snarked back, although he didn't put up any further fight and docilely followed Justin's lead as they maneuvered their way off the bed and around the room to gather clothing.

Brian grabbed a clean pair of briefs out of his dresser and found a pair of comfy jeans in the closet. While he was there, he also snuck a peek at the pair of brand new Prada half-boots he'd carelessly tossed on the closet floor the night before. Sure enough, one of the shoes was tipped over on its side and he easily caught a glimpse of something green, gooey and gloppy trickling out from inside. Bending over slightly, pretending to look through the rack of his dress slacks, Brian surreptitiously took a closer look and wasn't surprised to see bits of fuzzy black faux-fur and even a hint of silver metal amid the rest of the mass. Quickly calculating what he could get away with, Brian made the call to leave this little treasure where it was for the time being.

After that, the two men struggled through the everyday chores of washing up, brushing their teeth and hair and the other necessary morning rituals needed to get ready for the day, all the while having their movements seriously hampered because of the cuffs. They did get tangled up in each others' arms a couple times. Brian was not used to doing anything with his left hand and seemed to regularly forget his right hand was attached to Justin's left. Their cuffed wrists kept getting twisted around and slightly chafed in the process, but all-in-all it was manageable.

The only truly awkward part came when they had to stand side by side to take a morning piss and then had to help each other put on their pants. Justin, of course, courteously just slipped his jeans on as unobtrusively as possible. Brian did not. Justin blushed furiously as Brian bent to remove his still damp briefs, making quite a show of wiggling his naked ass in Justin's direction. He then proceeded to shamelessly wash himself - with just enough fondling and stroking to tease the watching Justin - clearly enjoying how uncomfortable his nudity made the younger man. Although, from the size of the bulge in Justin's jeans, Brian could tell his boy was probably more aroused than anything else. And the way Justin's breath was coming in short little gasps by the time Brian finally zipped up his fly was very encouraging.

'Yes. Things were certainly looking up', Brian thought to himself.

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

"Excellent! The Board of the Met is going to love this campaign. You wouldn't believe what a bunch of dirty old men and women they really are at heart. And my aunt, well let's just say this will be right up her alley," Bryce Kennedy gushed, once again, over the campaign idea that Brian and Justin had just finished presenting.

"Thank you, Sir. Justin and I were hoping you'd like it as much as we did. It's going to be a fun one to shoot," Brian agreed, thrilled that his boss was thrilled with the proposal - that executive floor office was practically his, provided he successfully pulled this off.

"Just have everything ready for the full presentation to the Board next week, and I'm certain we'll have a winner," Kennedy agreed. "Now, are you heading back to the office right away? If so, I'll have a team from the art department waiting for you to get this thing finalized."

"I don't think so, Sir," Brian quickly cut off his boss before he got too far. "I think I'll stick close to Taylor here for the rest of the day. We can get a lot more done here - away from all the distractions of the office. Plus, I'm thinking I shouldn't let our newest star out of my sight until this campaign is 100% ready. Taylor's already becoming a hot commodity and I don't want him losing his focus. Don't worry, though, I'll have my assistant, Cynthia, pick up anything we need the art department to work on and courrier it back to the office as needed."

"All right. Sounds doable. Great work Kinney, Taylor."

The computer screen went blank as the boss logged off. Brian breathed a sigh of relief that the crisis at work was dealt with. Now to get down to the REAL work - winning back his Sunshine for good. Somehow, Brian didn’t think that would be as clear cut and easy as putting together an award winning Ad campaign. However, he was determined to try.

Chapter 40 - Of Handcuffs, Hearts and Homework.

“Now, time to figure out how to get these cuffs off,” Justin announced the moment that the teleconference with Bryce Kennedy had ended. “I say to hell with waiting for Winston. I’ve got too much shit to do today to spend it sitting around waiting. So, do you want to call a locksmith or should we just try calling around to a couple of local adult entertainment stores to see if we can buy another set with a key?”

Brian almost panicked. His plans would be ruined if Justin succeeded in getting the handcuffs off and getting away from him before he’d had time to charm him back. Damn it, why did Justin have to be so logical and resourceful. Brian was hoping he wouldn’t think of the alternative of just buying another pair of toy handcuffs with a similar key. Oh well! Brian knew he had to think fast to head off his too-smart blond.

Glancing at the wall clock mounted not far from where they were seated at the dining table, Brian found his distraction. “No time for any of that. Don’t you have a class in about forty minutes? You don’t want to be late. Come on. Grab your stuff and let’s get out of here. If I spring for a cab, we should just about make it in time.”

“I’m not going to class like this,” Justin complained, holding up their conjoined wrists as evidence. “Besides, what the fuck are you going to do all day - are you just gonna trot around at my heel, following me to all my classes. Don’t you have a job or something?”

“My job is pretty much done for the day, Sunshine,” Brian reasoned as he towed the reluctant blond after him. “So, yeah, I’ll just tag along with you for the rest of the day, and during any breaks you have between classes we can work a bit more on the Met campaign. That way we both get everything we need done. Piece of cake!”

“It’s NOT a piece of cake, Brian. It’s going to be hell. We’re still HANDCUFFED together - did you forget that little fact? How the fuck am I going to explain this to everyone at school? My friends? My teachers? How the hell am I supposed to go to WORK like this?”

Brian grabbed both of their jackets off the coat hook by the door and proceeded to artistically drape Justin’s over the handcuff chain, effectively hiding the reason for their enforced closeness.

“That’s not going to work for the whole day, Brian,” Justin griped, but he didn’t resist as Brian picked up both his briefcase and Justin’s messenger bag full of school books and then started walking to the door.

“It’ll be fine, Justin,” Brian smiled over his shoulder as he pulled his unwilling companion over toward the elevator. “You’re a crazy New York City artist with pink hair. Who’s going to even blink an eye when you show up handcuffed to some handsome guy? I’ll just tell them it’s a kink you have and nobody will have the balls to say a word.”

“Briiiiiiiannnnn,” Justin’s whine could be heard even over Brian’s raucous laughter as the elevator doors closed behind them.

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

Justin was amazed that Brian turned out to be right. God damned New Yorkers! They were either too fucking jaded to care or just plain insane in their own right. But after more than four hours of moving around the city and the campus of SVA, not ONE single person had even commented on the fact that he and Brian were chained together with furry black handcuffs. It was unreal!

What was annoying Justin even more was that Brian seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself throughout the whole crazy dilemma. He’d happily introduced himself to anyone they met as ‘Justin’s Boyfriend’ and then, grinning widely, had shook the newcomer’s hand, effectively exposing their handcuffed status. And still, nobody had said anything! At most they got some funny looks and maybe a grin or two, but not one comment.

When Brian even went so far as to wave jovially with his cuffed right hand at the professor in Justin’s Drawing Techniques Workshop, Justin thought he’d die of embarrassment. All the professor said though was that visitors weren’t usually allowed in the classroom. Brian responded by shrugging half-apologetically, without any real explanation, and promised not to disrupt class.

“Master . . . I mean, Justin, said he’d give me a special treat if I was a good boy today,” Brian added with a bashful grin, looking over at Justin with adoring doe-eyes and batting his eyelashes endearingly.

“Brian!” Justin wasn’t sure whether to scream at the infuriating man or turn and explain to his professor first.

“Sorry, Mast . . . I mean, Justin. I forgot I wasn’t supposed to speak today. Please don’t punish me,” Brian apologized and obediently lowered his chin, the epitome of submission.

*Hm Hmmmm* Justin’s professor cleared his throat and tried to hide the amused grin that seemed to have broken out on his face. “Yes, well . . . time to get started with class, Taylor,” the man added and moved away without saying more.

“I’m going to kill you when we finally do get these things off - you DO realize that, don’t you, Brian?” Justin hissed and then intentionally jerked his arm hard so as to almost pull Brian off balance.

*He hehehe* Brian was quietly chuckling to himself and didn’t seem to take Justin’s threat seriously.

They did get a bit more done on the ad campaign for The Met in between Justin’s classes. After the final class he had that day, Brian and Justin had more than an hour free before he was expected at work. Brian gallantly offered to treat Justin to a late lunch while they worked a bit more on the Kennedy & Collins boards. As they were seated at a large round table, with various work materials spread out around their lunch trays, a couple of more intrepid souls approached, looking as if they wanted to join Brian and Justin.

“Hey, Taylor,” the bigger, bulkier of the two offered in greeting as they neared. “Mind if we join you two?”

“Sure, Theo,” Justin shrugged, moving a pile of demographic research off the table to clear a spot for the newcomers.

Justin was about to politely introduce his fellow students to Brian when Theo launched right into a whole different conversation than he was expecting. “So, I didn’t know you were into the lifestyle, Taylor? And I never would have pegged you for a dom - but what the hell do I know, right? A bit ballsy, though, showing up with your boy in cuffs at school! I can’t believe that Schneider didn’t say a fucking thing when you towed him into the Workshop with you. Usually that little prick is a total pain in the ass. Good going there, mate!”

“Uh . . . um, it wasn’t exactly . . .” Justin didn’t know quite how to explain things anymore.

“No need to explain, Taylor,” Theo cut him off, apparently well versed in various reasons why one would walk around in handcuffs all day. “You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do when you’re training a new boy, right? This one seems like he’ll be a keeper, though. May I address your boy and introduce him to mine?”

“Uhhhh . . . sure,” Justin stammered, really not sure what the fuck Brian had got them into now. “This is Brian.”

“Nice to meet you, Brian. You can call me ‘Master Lash’. Taylor, you already know Jeff, right? He’s a freshman in the photography program. I call him ‘Cookie’.”

Brian made a show of looking over at Justin as if asking for permission before responding to the introductions. “It’s nice to meet you Master Lash. Cookie. Master . . . I mean Justin, calls me ‘Dimples’,” Brian demurely lowered his gaze after greeting the couple, apparently really getting into his little play acting stint and making Justin shake his head, huffing and rolling his eyes in disbelief at the ridiculous ruse.

“Stop it already, Brian,” Justin hissed.

“I’m sorry, Master,” Brian replied in a hushed voice, still in character and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. “I shouldn’t have told them my special name, should I? I’m really sorry. I forgot what you told me earlier. Please don’t punish me too much, Master.”

“Enough, Brian!” Justin’s voice was rising in anger at this point.  

“Whoa! it’s okay, Taylor,” Theo put a placating and sympathetic hand on Justin’s arm, as if trying to hold him back. “Dimples seems new to this, but he’ll learn. Nothing to lose your cool over. Especially here,” Theo waved his hand to indicate the cafeteria full of other students, many of whom were now staring. “Anybody in the lifestyle would sympathize with you about how difficult it is to train a new boy. They don’t all come as perfect as Cookie here,” Theo chuckled and affectionately stroked one hand through Jeff’s hair with an indulgent smile on his otherwise gruff face. Cookie simpered and looked at Theo with utter adoration but didn’t say anything.

“It’s really not like that,” Justin tried to explain, not sure how exactly to do that without possibly offending his new ‘friends’. “See, this . . . today . . . wasn’t planned. We kinda lost the key to the cuffs last night and, well . . .”

*Hah!* “Say no more, my friend!” Theo announced with loud amusement. “It happens to the best of us - I’ve been there a time or two myself, you know. Which is why I started carrying spare keys with me pretty much all the time. Let me see those cuffs,” Theo reached across the table and seized hold of Brian’s wrist, looking intently at the lock mechanism on the cuffs. “Oh, yeah, this is a pretty standard set. I’m sure I’ve got a key that’ll work for you . . .”

“No!” Brian immediately snatched his hand away from Theo just as the big guy seemed to focus on one particular key amidst the dozens on his big solid metal keychain. “That’s alright. We . . . we really don’t need a key . . . I’m good here.”

“Brian?” Justin instantly caught on to the unspoken message underneath his former boyfriend’s words. “Why wouldn’t we want to make use of Theo’s key, if he has one?”

“I . . . Well, I sorta know where the key is?” Brian offered with a nervous tilt of his head, biting at his lip all the while.

“Meaning that it’s no longer inside Winston, I suppose?”

“Uh, well, he kinda threw up in my boots last night, and I suspect the key’s there . . .” Brian explained, not daring to look into Justin’s disapproving stare.

“Theo, Jeff, could you please excuse us. I need to have a word with Brian alone,” Justin courteously asked of their two lunch companions before turning back to his insubordinate sub.

“Good luck, Dimples,” Master Lash offered as he rose and started to lead his own boy away. “It looks to me like you’re gonna need it. Later, Taylor.”

As soon as they were alone again, Justin calmly started packing away all the Met campaign materials without saying anything or even looking in Brian’s direction. Brian didn’t know what to say either. He reluctantly began to put his own work away as well, internally worrying through a series of arguments he could use to placate Justin when the blond finally did get around to venting his anger at him. Justin was giving off enough subliminal signals of his displeasure that Brian knew without a doubt that the outburst, when it did come, would be monumental.

With his bag packed up, Justin stood and headed off towards the cafeteria doors, not even really taking note of Brian trotting along behind him. Twenty minutes later, they were getting out of a cab in front of the apartment building, and Justin still had not said a single word to Brian. The longer the blond kept up the silent treatment, the more worried the older brunet got. Brian was at the point that he was actually looking forward to Justin yelling at him, if only he would say SOMETHING!

Back inside the apartment, Justin sat his bag down right next to the door and turned to Brian. “Get the key,” he ordered, and then followed along wordlessly while Brian shuffled along to his closet and retrieved the soiled boot with its gooey, half-digested contents.

Justin held out his hand and Brian compliantly relinquished the boot. Without any discussion, Justin marched them off to the bathroom, dumped the furball into the tub, turned on the faucet and waited until the majority of the cat sick was washed off the remains of the fuzzy keychain which was indeed at the core of the hairball. Justin then picked up the key, unhestitatingly fitted it into the lock and released the cuffs from his wrist. As soon as he was free he disappeared from the bathroom without saying anything.

Brian unlocked his own wrist and ran after Justin. It just couldn’t end like this! He wouldn’t let Justin simply walk away again. He couldn’t do it. Brian needed Justin and he knew he would have to somehow prove it to the man right now before he was gone out of Brian’s life for good.

Brian didn’t have to worry, though. Justin was seated on the couch and waiting for him. The blond was entrenched in the far end of the sofa, his arms crossed indignantly across his chest and a small barricade of pillows set up on his lap in order to provide further protection. Justin’s countenance was as closed off and forbidding as his body language. But at least he was still there. Brian was relieved that he still had a chance, no matter how miniscule.

Brian took a deep breath and lowered himself onto the couch as well. The two men sat there in silence for quite some time, neither sure exactly where to start. When the silence started to almost physically weigh on Brian’s shoulders, he opened his mouth, about to launch into some unplanned but hopefully impassioned speech.

“Stop!” Justin ordered before Brian could say one word. “Brian, I don’t want to hear any excuses about the handcuff key right now. I don’t really care why you thought it was a good idea to keep me cuffed to you all day. That’s really beside the point! And I don’t want another one of your patented Kinney sales pitches, either. I don’t want you to try and convince me why I should buy into your plan for the two of us.”

“You’ve spent most of the past week plying me with gifts and half-assed poetry - I liked the limericks, though, by the way - and you even got your friends and your son involved to try and convince me to come back. But don’t you understand, all that’s not going to get you anywhere? I don’t want or need baskets of sex toys and strippers. Or, for that matter, romantic drivel either. None of that shit is really you anyway, Brian. It never was. It’s not me either.”

“What I really need is for you to be completely and totally honest. With me and with yourself. The whole reason we’re in this fucking mess is because, when we got home from Pittsburgh and Connor showed up, we both just assumed a metric fuck ton of shit about how the other was feeling instead of actually communicating. It was fucked up and I know I’m as much to blame for letting it get that way as you, but now I’m putting my foot down and saying that it has got to stop.”

“What I want from you now - the only thing I want - is for you to tell me how you feel and why you think you and I should be together,” Justin finished, his voice dropping lower as he gave Brian this ultimatum.

“Shit, Sunshine,” Brian cringed, his face crumpling up with seeming defeat before he’d ever started. “Couldn’t we start off with something easy and work our way up to talking about feelings and all that crap? You hit hard. No holds barred, I guess? Well, fine . . .”

Brian got up and started pacing - unable to think things through without feeling like his body was free to move and perhaps escape if needed. “I feel . . . I-I feel empty and lost. When you left I felt almost panicked. I knew I’d fucked up royally and I knew I deserved to get reamed by you, but I didn’t think you’d leave. And when you didn’t yell at me or even say anything and then you just said ‘goodbye’ and the door closed behind you, I felt so fucking scared. I guess that’s how I still feel - scared. I’m scared that you’ll give up on me. That you don’t want to give me another chance. I’m so fucking terrified that you won’t be able to love me anymore and that I’ve ruined everything . . .”

Brian couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. It’s not that he’d never had these thoughts before, but he had never dared to give them voice. Fear, sadness, loss, rejection - these were sentiments that had always been forbidden. They were shameful and pathetic feelings that he was far too embarrassed to admit to. These were feelings that made him seem weak. These were feelings that he’d thought Jack Kinney had beaten out of him a long time ago. But the brave little blond sitting on his couch had asked for his honesty and Brian had somehow found enough courage of his own to give him what he’d requested - so he gave him his honest feelings without holding back.

“I want you to stay with me, Sunshine, because without you I don’t think I know how to be truly happy. I want to have silly, lighthearted fun. I want to be able to laugh and joke around and feel comfortable just existing in my own skin for a change. You showed me for the first time in my life that I could be a father, a friend, maybe even a boyfriend, and that it was okay to enjoy those roles. Nobody ever let me be like that before. I want to learn to be someone who is capable of being loved. Someone who is worthy of love . . .” Brian’s confession ended in a whisper, the difficult and painful words seemingly torn from his throat almost against his will, and yet probably the most genuine emotions he’d ever acknowledged.

“I don’t want to be a lost cause, Justin,” Brian sank down into the armchair directly across from his audience and looked into those deep blue ocean-tinged eyes pleadingly. “I realize that I’m pretty hopeless at all this relationship crap. And no matter how much I’ve sworn in the past that I don’t do jealousy or couples or love, the truth is I do. I can be petty and mean and I found out from Connor’s little return visits that I definitely DO jealousy. I know I’ll probably never be able to get the ‘rose gardens and sunshiny skies and the promise of a happily ever after where things will always be good and fine’ shit right. I’m the world’s worst candidate for a boyfriend ever invented, Sunshine. I know that, damn it!”

“And then there’s you - my exact fucking opposite in every damn way! You’re open and honest with yourself and ready to think the best about almost anyone. You find fun everywhere you fucking go, no matter what the hell you’re doing. You’ve got enthusiasm coming out of your ass and you’re so damn perky I want to smother you sometimes. When I met you I really didn’t know what to think - I’d never even dreamed there was somebody like you out there. If anyone had described you to me in advance, I would have run away screaming from the mere idea of you. But here I am, I’ve known you like two months, and I’m fucking addicted to you! You’re all I want, Justin, even though I never knew it’s what I wanted or needed. And I know that if I let you get away, I’ll be lost . . .”

Justin had been sitting quietly all this time, actively listening to Brian’s rare moment of openness. He was amazed really, that Brian was letting himself finally articulate all these long pent up feelings. It was so totally out of character for Brian. But it was also incredibly raw and honest and exactly what Justin had asked for. He knew it wasn’t likely that Brian would ever let himself be this exposed ever again. So he was determined to listen with his whole being and absorb what this normally closed man was telling him.

Unfortunately, Justin’s reserved silence only served to make Brian even more nervous. The absolute quiet allowed him to actually hear what he was saying. Brian’s inner defense mechanisms finally started kicking in as soon as his brain began to register all the drivel he’d been spewing. He’d made himself too vulnerable. It was too painful and far too dangerous.

“You know what, just fuck it,” Brian shook his head, getting up from his seat on the chair and beginning to physically as well as emotionally retreat. “Just forget everything I said, Justin. I don’t know what the fuck I was saying.”

“No, Brian,” Justin insisted, rising and moving to block Brian’s escape with his smaller but more determined body. “I won’t just forget what you said. You might be rattled after that incredible confession, but I’m not going to pretend I didn’t hear what you said and I won’t let you ignore it all either. I asked for honesty and you fucking gave it to me in spades. Shit!”

Brian stopped trying to push his way past the smaller man and meekly stood there, his lips rolled in to mask his expression and his gaze directed off into the vague distance of the hallway. Justin reached up with his right hand and gently caressed the taller man’s cheek, his thumb trailing along the ridge of Brian’s cheekbone until it slipped down and tenderly gripped the strong square jaw, forcing Brian to look at him. Brian wasn’t surprised to see a sweet and understanding smile on his highly empathic lover.

“Don’t run away, Brian,” Justin murmured, causing Brian to blink and sigh and then nod his agreement.

Justin took Brian by the hand and led him back over to the couch. This time he didn’t shrink into the corner or hide himself behind a pile of pillows. He sat down in the center of the middle cushion and pulled Brian down as close beside him as they could physically get without being right on top of one another. Brian followed where Justin directed him more compliantly than was his norm. He’d bared his soul to this other man, and now he could do nothing except relinquish all control over into what was to be to Justin’s hopefully-gentle hands.

“You know, all I can think of right now is this silly picture my Grandma had on the wall of her home when I was a child,” Justin huffed a little laugh as he related the memory. “It was one of those needlework sampler things that girls used to be forced to do - you know the type? They tend to be all flowery with little geometric designs and tiny little pictures done in embroidery thread and they always had some pithy little quote on them. Well, the one in the guest room where I used to sleep whenever I visited Grandma’s house had this quote that was attributed to Socrates, of all people. I don’t know why, but I never forgot it. It said, ‘Those who are hardest to love need it the most.’

“That’s you, Brian,” Justin affirmed, his hand squeezing Brian’s large hand as it rested comfortably in Justin’s lap. “You’re the hardest person to love that I’ve ever met. You’re so fucking aggravating at times I want to kill you. And talk about high maintenance! You have absolutely no idea how to be in a relationship, do you? I probably should run away now while I still have the chance,” Justin laughed softly and looked up at Brian with an intense longing. “But, I just can’t. You think you’re addicted to me? Well, buddy, it ain’t nothing compared to how attached I feel towards you. Only I’m not sure if I want to treat you like a little baby bird with a broken wing that I need to cuddle and take care of or spank your ass like a naughty little boy who needs to be taught a lesson.”

“If I get a vote, I think I’d prefer the spanking,” Brian joked, finally managing to regain a bit of his usual composure. “Although, I’d rather be the one doing the spanking, I think.”

“Hush, you!” Justin growled and swatted at Brian’s biceps to reprimand the jokester. “You do know that I’m still pissed off at you for the pink hair, right? That was going too fucking far! If you ever mess with my hair or my art, ever again, I’ll tan your flat ass until you can’t sit down again. I’m not joking either, Brian,” Justin warned, his voice betraying his seriousness on this particular issue.

“I promise never to compromise your hair or your art, Sunshine, if you agree to never again violate my clothing in anger,” Brian quipped with his typical tongue-in-cheek smirk and one elegantly raised eyebrow.

“Okay. I guess I can live with that, you big label queen. But all of your other OCD shit is still open game,” Justin warned and let off one of his full-wattage Sunshine smiles complete with a shake of his head and that mischievous glint in his eye he always got when he was planning trouble.

“Are we okay now,” Brian felt he had to ask, still a bit worried and unsure if their argument was officially at an end.

“Yeah. We’re okay,” Justin confirmed then modulated his voice into a more authoritarian tone, standing up with his hands on his hips and looking down at his now amenable pupil. “Now, Mr. Kinney, since you don’t seem to be at all prepared for this relationship shit, I think we’ll have to immediately begin a course of strenuous study. For your first lesson, you should know that all arguments must be concluded promptly thereafter with vigorous and thorough make-up sex. In addition, the bigger the argument, the more zealous the sex must be. And for your homework tonight, I’ll be calling into work so I can take a personal day, then I will personally be drilling you on this particular lesson. So you, young man, better hurry along to the bedroom and get yourself ready for some intensive tutoring . . .”

“Yes, Sir, Professor,” Brian eagerly replied, his shirt already unbuttoned as he practically ran towards the bedroom, more than ready to get to work under the expert tutelage of his favorite blond boy who was now back home to stay.

Chapter 41 - Odd Bedfellows Make for Happy Beds.

"JUSTIN!" Brian bellowed as his over-eager bedmate sprayed whipped cream into his belly button with one hand while he was simultaneously drizzling honey across the broad expanse of Brian's chest with the spoon held in the other.

*Hehehe* was Justin's only reply. The little imp continued to drip honey on every piece of Brian's naked skin he could reach. When the cool, sticky goop would start to run down into all of Brian's cracks and crevices, Justin would swoop down and lick up all the dribbles, giggling like a maniac all the while. Brian wasn't sure what was driving him more crazy; the tickling, syrupy, goopy mess being drizzled all over his body, Justin's tantalizing little pink tongue darting out and swooping around erratically, or his partner's tempting naked ass wiggling around just out of reach of his cock as the boy darted after the trickles of sweetness.

"Listen up, little boy," Brian said using his most authoritarian voice in a vain effort to gain control of the messy situation. "First of all, I don't know who told you that items involving whipped cream and honey constitute proper breakfast foods, but they were wrong."

"But, Brian, I like whipped cream and honey on fruit for breakfast. And you do too when you're not being a big old grump," Justin argued, refusing to move from his perch straddling Brian's hips.

Justin also used the opportunity of Brian's mouth opening with more complaints in order to shove another slice of banana in between his lover's lips. Brian quickly chewed and swallowed, even though he wasn't willing to formally concede his argument against such messy foods being foisted off on him in the guise of breakfast. It was really the principle of the thing that bothered him - messy foods should NOT be consumed in bed!

"Secondly, you DO know that I'm making you clean up this mess, right? I mean, look at my brand new Ralph Lauren 1000 tread-count Egyptian Cotton sheets! They're going to be ruined, Justin," Brian continued to complain.

Justin continued to ignore his clean-freak sweetheart. In direct retaliation for Brian's spat of complaints, Justin sprayed an extra-large dollop of whipped cream right over Brian's left pec, then scooped out a handful of cut up strawberries, bananas, grapes and sundry other fruit, and laughingly arranged the pieces into a slightly lopsided heart shape. To top it off, he added a generous spoonful of sticky honey on the top of the arrangement and adorned the whole with a big chunk of cantelope.

The sight alone made Brian groan. But when Justin crinkled up his nose at Brian's implied complaint and then dove down to start licking his creation off Brian's skin - with an inordinate amount of attention paid to the nipple underneath - Brian's groan turned to a moan of desire. Before he knew what he was doing, instead of pushing the cream and honey covered boy off him, he was pulling Justin's body even closer and kissing the sweetness off those perfect, full, coral pink lips.

After that, Brian's concern for his precious sheets simply evaporated away. Brian was rolling his supple lover over, smearing cream and honey and fruit everywhere, in a rush to feel the willing body once again - for the third time that morning - writhing underneath him. He noted in passing that the sticky honey all over his torso was creating odd and novel sensations, adding to the friction as his full cock slid alongside of Justin's. So, maybe, this breakfast in bed thing wasn't all that bad?

"How about we add a little bit of your own special cream to the mix and see how that tastes, eh Sunshine," Brian proposed, frotting against Justin in earnest now, the consequences to his sheets be damned.

*knock, knock, knock* "Brian? Brian, you guys have been going at it in there for like two hours and I've gotta go or I'll miss my flight back to Pittsburgh," Michael's knocking and plaintive whine coming through the closed bedroom door managed to kill the mood almost instantly. Brian grunted in frustration and collapsed onto Justin's frame. "Could you please take a break long enough to come out and say goodbye? I don't know when you'll make it back to the Pitts and hopefully you won't have to drag my ass back here to help you win back your boyfriend for at least a couple months, so you better come say goodbye while you can. Besides, don't you guys have some big presentation thingy at work, anyways?" Michael added, hoping that that little tidbit of info would help encourage his friend to get out of bed already.

"Shit! What time is it?" Brian scrambled to grab the clock off the bedside table and growled under his breath as he saw that it was indeed later than he'd thought. "Sorry, Sunshine, Mikey's right. We need to get moving or we'll be late." Brian rolled off his comfy bedmate and disentangled his legs from the soggy honey and cream coated sheets. "And you, young man, need to clean up this mess before you do anything else," Brian ordered, wagging his index finger at Justin in an annoyingly parental fashion.

***"Don't point that finger at me unless you intend to use it, Dimples," Justin teased, winking at Brian impishly before he turned to strip off the bedding, and wiggling his still naked ass provocatively in the process.

***"I might be a neurotic nut, Sunshine, but you're just plain crazy!" Brian hollered after the boy's retreating backside.

Michael, who was still standing outside Brian and Justin's bedroom door, chuckled at the antics of the playful couple. He couldn't help ogling the two nude men when the door opened and they each strutted past him towards the bathroom, but he tried not to be too obvious. Nevertheless, Brian caught him peeking at Justin's fine ass and gave his old friend a whopping smack upside the head, reminiscent of Debbie Novotny herself.

"Ouch! What was that for?" Michael whined, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

"Keep your eyes to yourself, Mikey!" Brian ordered. "That particular ass is mine. No ogling allowed!"

"Whatever," Michael sheepishly backed down, turning his eyes away from Justin in time to get an even better eyeful of Brian heading down the hall to shower with his blond - an alternative which Michael didn't mind in the least.

The boys had to forego their usual shower exercises in the interest of time, which meant they made it out in less than fifteen minutes. Brian was halfway down the hall, already planning in his mind exactly which suit he'd wear to dazzle today's clients with, when he almost tripped over Winston. The cat was crouched in the middle of the hallway, happily licking away at a large piece of canteloupe that had apparently fallen out of the sheets Justin had taken to the laundry hamper. While Brian readily admitted he didn't have much experience with cats, he'd never heard of one eating canteloupe. Of course, until recently, he'd never heard of one eating metal handcuff keys either, so who was he to judge?

"Justin, your Furrball is eating canteloupe," Brian hollered over his shoulder to the blond still standing at the bathroom sink while he brushed his teeth. "I don't think that's normal, Sunshine. Your cat is even weirder than you!"

"Maybe he's decided to go vegan?" Justin offered, following Brian towards the closet and not bothering to interrupt the happily slurping cat.

"Whatever. I'm just warning you, Justin, there will be no more defiling of my shoes! If the little monster wants to eat melon or fuzzy toys or whatever, that's his business, but the next time a pair of my footwear is ruined, I WILL be kicking both your asses!"

"You're no fun, Dimples," Justin refused to be cowed by the outwardly grumpy man since he knew Brian's threats were empty. "How is Winston supposed to know what tastes good unless he tries it? And if it doesn't agree with him, well, you can't blame the little guy for experimenting every so often."

"Just so long as his experimenting doesn't involve my Pradas!"

"Can you two argue over the fucking cat some other time, please," Michael's whingeing caused both men to smile and allowed them a good excuse to change the subject altogether.

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The cab pulled up in front of the office tower where Kennedy & Collins had its offices and both Brian and Justin piled out, their arms full of the display materials for their big presentation. Brian bent back down long enough to give Mikey an affectionately wet smooch on the mouth and wish him a good flight back to the Pitts. Justin joined Brian on the curb, waving goodbye to Brian's old friend as the cab door was slammed shut and the vehicle started to drive away. Justin would probably never end up liking Michael much - especially considering the poor first impression the man had made - but he was happy for Brian that the two seemed to have resolved all their differences.

Over the past week, since Justin had officially moved back into the apartment, he'd watched a lot of the Brian & Mikey show and come to understand just how important this relationship was to Brian. His lover didn't have very many good memories of his childhood. The only good times he would ever acknowledge were times he'd spent with Michael and Deb. If he ever permanently lost his friendship with Michael, he would in essence have lost or at least tainted those memories as well. So it was a huge relief to all that they'd finally gotten past their issues.

In the end, Brian had confessed to Michael why he'd said what he had about Michael's potential as a father. He'd explained in depth about the ongoing problems he'd had with the Munchers and how he felt like every time he wanted to see Gus it turned into a battle. Brian didn't want to see Michael go through the same disheartening struggle if he agreed to father a second child for the lesbian couple. Brian also did the nearly unthinkable and actually outright apologized for handling the situation so badly. But he still worried that Michael wouldn't be happy if he fathered a child for the girls because Brian knew that, regardless of what they all said up front, once the baby was born things would get complicated, words would get twisted around and promises forgotten.

Finally, the night before Michael was due to leave, the two men and the two lesbians came to a mutual agreement. Michael really wanted this chance to be a father - it was something he'd never thought he'd have a chance to experience - so he maintained that he was going ahead with the plan. However, he did concede that it would be a good idea to have a much more formal agreement in place with the girls beforehand. So, after much discussion, Michael had agreed to let Brian hire an experienced family law attorney for him so they could establish an airtight parenting agreement right up front. And, just so the Munchers wouldn't think Brian was siding with Michael over them, he'd agreed to pay for their attorney as well. For the moment at least, everyone seemed comfortable with this plan.

Justin was also glad to see that the ladies even seemed willing to let Brian have more access to Gus. It remained to be seen whether or not Mel could rein in her long-held antipathy towards Brian long enough to make this new deal work, but at least it was a start. Brian seemed encouraged and optimistic, so Justin decided to act likewise. All the same, Justin silently vowed that HE would be more involved in making sure Brian got his parenting time in the future - the stubborn young blond wasn't about to let anyone hurt his man, and that included a couple of fickle lesbos.

With all that hurly-burly resolved, though, and with Michael finally heading home, Brian and Justin could now concentrate fully on their own challenges. The first of which was today's big pitch to the Board of Directors of The Met. Both men were fairly confident their ideas would be a big hit. Still, it was such an important account and so much was riding on this one deal, that it was nerve wracking nonetheless.

Taking just a brief moment to straighten his tie, inhale deeply and gather his thoughts, Brian prepared himself for the upcoming battle. "Ready, Sunshine," Brian turned to his artistic partner with his typically smirky AdMan smile. Justin smiled back, a tad less confidently, and nodded. Brian turned without another word and led the way into the building.

Once up on the 30th floor, Justin headed off to the conference room they would be using so he could get the boards and other display materials ready. Brian headed off with Cynthia to make sure the packets of printed materials were finished and to go over his spiel one last time. Everyone knew their job and was ready. It looked like the scene was perfectly set for another Brian Kinney triumph.

When Brian and Bryce Kennedy walked in a half hour later, escorting The Met Board members into the conference room, Justin was justifiably impressed with the sight of his partner in his calm, cool-headed, executive personae. Brian simply exuded confidence and control. It was such a huge fucking turn on that Justin wasn't surprised when his cock stirred at the mere sight. Hearing Brian's sultry baritone voice as he welcomed everyone and began introducing the team working on the project didn't help reduce Justin's boner any. Luckily, the young artist didn't have to stand up to do his part of the presentation. He was more than happy to simply nod genially when he was introduced but otherwise hide behind the big conference table and let Brian do his thing.

Brian proceeded to launch into the pitch with his usual aplomb. In less than a minute he had everyone's attention. Even this group of mostly old white straight society types seemed immediately captivated by Brian's innate charisma. From Justin's perspective, it looked like Brian had won the account the moment he'd opened his mouth. The rest was all just icing on the cake.

"So, that's why we decided to take this campaign just a little outside the ordinary. We think we've got something here that will appeal to a much broader demographic. I think you'll be pleased," Brian started in, ready for the big reveal. "And, without further ado, I give you, "Expose Yourself To Art."

Brian turned and ostentatiously pulled the black satin drape off the largest easel which had been placed in front of all the rest.

What Brian thought he'd be revealing was the gorgeous, full-sized canvas Justin had painted depicting several of the more well known board members flashing one of the Met's most famous statues.

What actually appeared from underneath the curtain, though, was a pair of dirty, hole-filled, paint-speckled sneakers dangling by their tied laces from the top of the easel. The actual painting was covered by a black board, which incidentally provided the perfect backdrop to show off the truly deplorable state of the sneakers. Brian stared at the unexpected find for more than a minute, his mouth pursed up in a lopsided pucker which could have been a scowl or a smile, depending on how you looked at it.

The audience was completely lost. They didn't really get what a pair of old running shoes had to do with their museum. A couple of them looked back and forth at each other in confusion. Bryce Kennedy was certainly scowling up at Brian from his place in the back of the room. The easy accepting atmosphere that had pervaded the room a moment before became instantly tense.

"Sorry about that, folks," Brian apologized as soon as he'd recovered. Pulling the offending sneakers from where they were looped around the easel, he nonchalantly turned towards the squirming young blond sitting in the corner. "Just a little private joke," Brian explained as he chucked the shoes straight at Justin's unprepared head. "You know how crazy and unpredictable artists are. And, I'm afraid, our Mr. Taylor is no exception." Justin managed to catch the flying foot wear, blushing furiously but still smiling that award winning full blown smile despite the displeasure being directed at him.

*Hahahaha!* the cackling laughter of Estelle Geddes, by far the oldest member on the Board, erupted almost as if on cue, completely dispelling the sour mood. "That's what I like to see," the old lady spouted, her voice louder than you'd expect from such a diminutive woman. "That young man's got spunk! And a sense of humor! I tell you, Brycie, that's the type of person you need working for you around here. He'd liven this place up in no time! You mark my words, nephew, you'd better hire that boy full-time right quick before he gets away. *hehehe* Now, young man," Ms. Estelle turned back to where Brian was smiling down on the scene, "let's get back to your presentation before that hot young thing completely steals the show!"

"Quite," Brian chuckled back at the lively old lady, his self-confidence now fully restored. "As I was saying before Sunshine's shoes interrupted us . . ."

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"Thank you, Ms. Geddes," Brian was still busy accepting the accolades he'd earned for the fantastic concepts he'd successfully pitched. "I had a feeling that this particular campaign would be right up your alley."

"I can't wait for my photo shoot," the woman enthused. "Do I get to pick which statue I get to flash? Cause, you know, I've always had a thing for that big statue of Perseus holding the head of Medusa. I always did go for the pretty boys," the old scamp chuckled and winked at Brian coquettishly.  

"I'll just bet you do, Ma'am!" Brian laughed outright and flirted right back. "And, I have to say, I rather like that statue myself."

This caused the feisty older woman to blush and break out into an even louder freshet of laughter. She turned away, still laughing, and practically strutted down the hall. Brian couldn't stop chuckling himself after that.

"You're incorrigible, Mr. Kinney," Justin interrupted Brian's moment of mirth, sliding up behind the taller man and slipping his arms around his lover's slim waist. "You were having WAY too much fun flirting with all those old ladies. Should I be worried?"

"Nah. That's nothing to worry about. Besides, I was flirting with a couple of the old gents too, Sunshine. I'm an equal opportunity rogue, you know," Brian reassured his boyfriend, pulling the young man's arms even tighter around him as he teased back.

"I saw! I was watching when you ran your hand down old Mr. Compton's back, and, if my eyes weren't deceiving me, I think you even patted him on the ass! Have you no shame, Mr. Kinney?" Justin's words might have been harsh, but his tone made it clear that he wasn't really angry.

"Nope. None," Brian stated without a hint of shame. "Besides, I just made that old queen's day. He'll be bragging on that little escapade for years. And I'll have The Met account in my pocket for the foreseeable future as a direct result. It's a win-win situation for everybody, Sunshine."

"I don't doubt it," Justin confirmed with an affectionate squeeze to his boyfriend's middle. "So, are you done now?"

"For the moment, yes," Brian replied, hoping that this was leading where he hoped it was leading.

"Good!" Justin stood on tiptoes so he could whisper the rest of his plan into the big bad AdMan's ear. "Because watching you back there in that conference room gave me the biggest hard on I've ever had in my whole fucking life." Justin's statement was easily backed up by the feeling of a hot hard lump being pressed into Brian's backside even as his Sunshine spoke. "So, I'm going to need you to fuck me in the next sixty seconds, Brian, or I might just explode all over the carpeting of your lovely office."

*Mmmmm* Brian moaned aloud as the hard on in question was again thrust against his ass. "I think I can accommodate you in that request, Mr. Taylor," Brian purred agreeably.

At the same time, Brian grabbed one of Justin's hands and started towing him unceremoniously down the hall towards the first unoccupied room he could find. It happened to be a conveniently empty copy room with a nice wooden door that thankfully came with a working lock. It only took twenty seconds for Brian to shove his Sunshine inside, kick the door closed with his foot and then bend the willing blond over the top of the copy machine. Justin helped out by shedding his pants even as he was practically flying through the air. And, before you could say 'Clio Award', the pair were happily rutting away with Brian's cock halfway up Justin's needy ass.

As he continued to slide his thick cock in and out of the exquisitely tight well, Brian couldn't believe how perfect this man was for him. He'd never met another person who was as much his equal as Justin was - intellectually, emotionally, and especially physically. Nobody else could possibly keep up with him, understand him and keep him constantly amused as this sweet, deceptively young-looking blond boy. No one else ever came close to making Brian feel as good as he felt right at that moment.

It was probably a combination of the leftover adrenaline high from clinching the Met presentation, the relief he was still feeling after having finally convinced Justin to return home to the apartment, his lack of sleep over the past week and the mind blowing erotic stimulation that always went along with fucking Justin, that caused Brian to say what he said next. It had to have been something out of the ordinary, right? I mean, there's no other reason why a confirmed loner like Brian Fucking Kinney would make such a declaration.

Whatever the cause, though, right as he thrust into his Sunshine for the last time, causing the internal ball of pleasure that had been building up in his gut to explode with a white hot fire through every synapse in his body, Brian Kinney yelled out the very words he never thought he'd speak.

"Justin! Fuck, Justin! I love you! I fucking love you so damn much! I want you to fucking marry me so you can Never. Leave. Me. Again! Aaaagggghhh!"

At that point Brian shot his load into the condom deep in Justin's sweet hole and Justin simultaneously decorated the cover of the copier with ribbons of his own cum. Neither man said anything. They just panted, trying to catch their breath, while holding themselves up as best they could until their weak knees recovered from the best orgasm either had ever experienced. Brian had his face buried in the crook of Justin's sweet smelling neck, waiting with both anticipation and dread to see how his very much younger lover was going to react to his little involuntary proposal.

And they might have stayed like that for quite awhile, too, if their reverie hadn't been cut short by a rather loud knocking at the copy room door.

Looking at each other guiltily - realizing a little late that neither of them had been particularly quiet during their impromptu love making session - they rushed to get their clothes back in place and clean up the evidence as best they could. By the time the second knock on the door came, they were mostly ready to go out and face whatever consequences might come. Brian moved to unlock the door and then opened it while trying to shield Justin from sight with his own larger frame.

"It's about time, Mr. Kinney," announced a very tiny but highly amused Estelle Geddes when Brian finally emerged. "If you two boys are quite finished in there *hehehe* there's a few minor details we need to finish up. So, Get a move on young man. Let's go, already," the little lady ordered as she chivvied Brian out of the way and then manhandled Justin into direct view.

"Now, Mr. Taylor, I've finally convinced my thick-headed Nephew that he needs to hire you before you get away," the indomitable woman continued. "As I understand it, you've still got a couple years of school. So I told Brycie he'd have to hire you as an intern for now and schedule your work hours around your classes. When you graduate I'll get on his case about hiring you full-time. Now you skedaddle on down to the HR department with this nice young lady - Cynthia, wasn't it? Off you go! Shoo!"

Justin barely had time to sputter his thanks to the woman, which she simply waved off with an imperious gesture of her wrinkled old hand, before she turned her attention to Brian.

"And, while your young man is off taking care of that, Mr. Kinney, why don't you escort me upstairs to the executive floor and show me which office you've picked out for when my Brycie announces your big promotion. If I were you, I'd go for the big one on the south corner. It's got a lovely view of downtown," the spunky old woman winked as she made the suggestion, linking her arm through Brian's as they turned towards the elevators.

"While we walk, you can also tell me exactly how you plan to officially propose to that beautiful young blond. I mean, really, you aren't seriously expecting him to say yes to THAT half-arsed proposal? You can NOT propose to the love of your life in a copy room while you're shagging him, my dear. It's gauche. Now, if you want my advice - and of course you do because you're too smart not to listen to my brilliant ideas - I'd suggest you surprise him with a big ring, standing in a tux on the front steps of my museum, with maybe a dozen dozen red roses displayed on the steps around you. Now that would be perfect . . ." The old lady kept on with her proposal and subsequent wedding plans and Brian, wisely, kept silent, obediently nodding whenever there was a pause.

As the elevator doors closed the other Kennedy & Collins employees who had been standing around watching heard Ms. Estelle's shrill yet affection-filled voice continue. "Seriously, what WERE you thinking? The copy room? Really? . . ."

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****Quote/paraphrased quote from the original 1968 movie, The Odd Couple.