"Hi, sweetie!" Emmett stopped at Justin's table in Woody's, spotting him as soon as he'd stepped into the bar. After hugging him quickly, he sat across from his visibly distressed friend.

"Hey, Em. Thanks for coming on such short notice."

"No worries. I have nothing better to do, besides, I haven't seen you in forever." Emmett waved dismissively. "Now, tell me what the brute has done. You look pretty upset."

Justin folded his hands on the table, glaring at the ring on his finger. "This stupid thing caused us so much trouble!" He twirled it around.

"Now, now. When you came back from New York, you commonly agreed to do a small ceremony."

"Yes, and that was a year ago…only horrible things followed our ceremony! Brian had to be in Chicago for a month to kiss Brown's ass. Then I was invited in San Francisco to that exposition and I stayed there for two months; Brian managed to visit only three times. Then when we were finally both at home, we got sucked in our own things. And lately…lately…" His breath hitched and his eyes welled up. "Fuck, Emmett. I think he's cheating," Justin admitted in a small voice.

"Don't be ridiculous, baby! When Brian promised to be yours completely, we knew he meant it!" Emmett patted his hands.

"You don't know shit! If he's not back to his ways then why the fuck haven't we fucked in five months?"

"Sorry, I lost my hearing for a second. Could you repeat that?"

Justin gritted his teeth. "I'm not in the mood for jokes. I asked you here hoping you'd be the rational one. Mikey would have laughed and pointed, telling me he knew this would happen. Ted would have something sarcastically witty to say that would make me want to punch him. Debbie…God, I don't even want to think of it. And Daphne isn't much help either."

"Geez. I believe you now, Justin. I can almost see all your hormones galloping everywhere."

"No. Jokes!"

Emmett raised his hands, smiling innocently. "So when did this happen? What led to it? I can't believe it. Brian Kinney going without sex for almost half a year."

"No, Emmett. Only Justin going without it. Brian's getting it somewhere else." Justin rolled his eyes.

"Are you sure? I haven't seen him at Babylon, unless he's with you or attending business."

"Look, I just know. It was right after New Year when he came to bed really late, all dressed, and if I tried getting him undressed, he rolled on his side, faking tiredness. After a while, when he realized I could read through his bullshit, he stopped coming to bed altogether until he was sure I was asleep. God forbid I try initiating anything during daylight. He freaked out on me the other day when I tugged at his pants, inviting him in the pool."

Emmett watched his friend with wide, curious eyes. That description didn't apply to Brian. "Do you suppose someone abducted him and replaced him with this prude?"

"The last time he shut me off like this, he was sick," Justin said quietly. "But he's not. We talked about it briefly, and he was surprised I could even think of that. I mean, seriously. What the fuck should I read into this fucked up situation?"

"Well, remember my theory back then? It might be true now…he's no longer a young stud. Maybe the Titanic has actually sunk."

Justin gasped, staring in shock at Emmett. "No way! We'd talk about it if that was the case. I think. Shit, Emmett. I didn't think of that." He sucked on the straw, taking unhealthy amounts from his alcoholic drink. "Fuck."

"Don't worry, sweetie. Talk to him. I'm sure he's feeling really horrible. Poor baby must be embarrassed to bring up the subject."

"You're right. You're totally right. This would be so Brian." Justin nodded. He abruptly stood up. "Thanks a bunch, Em." Planting a wet kiss on his friend's cheek, Justin rushed to the car to go home and have a talk with his distressed partner.

A little over half an hour later, Justin pulled up in the garage, running inside the house. He came to a skidding halt at the bottom of the stairs, noticing Brian in the living room. It was one of those rare moments when he had his guard down.

Justin leaned against the door frame, smiling at Brian playing with their dog. They were on the carpet in front of the fireplace, and the way Brian was bent over the dog, his shirt had ridden up showing a silver of skin.

To Justin it looked like he was seeing some lost antique treasure. His feet carried him to his partner, and before he knew it, Justin was tracing a finger over the exposed skin.

Brian jumped as burnt, tugged the shirt down, and turned around with narrowed eyes. "What was that for?"

Justin tried not to let his disappointment show. "Can't I touch you? Your skin is really soft in that spot. I miss it."

Brian snorted, leaning closer to steal a kiss. "You miss it."

"Yes," Justin declared loudly. He smiled at Lucky, their ball of fur, rescued a couple of months ago by none other than Mr. I-Will-Never-Get-A-Pet. "Hey, you." Justin cuddled the black Metis to his chest, before meeting Brian's startled eyes. "Don't tell me you don't miss it too."

"We're not talking about this again."

"Yes, we are! Look Brian, when are you going to get it that if we don't talk, I come up with crazy scenarios. I'm worried, for fuck's sake! Tell me why you won't touch me anymore. Am I suddenly repulsive to you? Do you… Are you… Fuck!" Justin looked away, sighing heavily.

"Am I what?" Brian asked genuinely confused.

Tears pooled in Justin's eyes. "Don't make me say it."

"Hey, Sunshine. What's wrong?" Brian pulled him tightly into his side, pressing his cheek into the blond hair, inhaling Justin's smell. "Did something happen?"

"Are you joking?" Justin sniffed, shifting away, running the heel of his hand under his nose. "We haven't fucked in months! That's what is wrong, Brian! So tell me the truth. Are you back to tricking? I promise I won't be mad. I just want to know what the fuck is going on."

"There's nothing." Brian got up and stomped out the room, stopping in the doorway. "And I'm not…fucking around. Give me some credit."

Justin gaped after Brian's retreating form. "Then why?" He shouted, running after him.

"I don't have to explain it to you. I'll write you a memo when I feel like it again," Brian hissed, rummaging through the fridge. "Where the fuck is the orange juice?"

"We're out of it. And what do you mean when you'll feel like it?" Justin put a tentative hand on Brian's shoulder. "If you have…problems…you know…I'll understand. We can talk about it."

Brian slammed the refrigerator's door shut, whirling around. "You think I am impotent? Beautiful. What gave you that fabulous idea?"

Justin fisted his hands, having a powerful desire to wring Brian's neck. "Tell me what the fuck you'd believe if I stopped letting you touch me out of nowhere! Is this your New Year's resolution? To see how long you last without sex? Couldn't you get a normal resolution, like…stop drinking? Or stop smoking?"

"It's not a resolution. And it's not by choice."

Justin seized Brian's right hand, eyeing his palm. "Callous, just like mine. How about we give up this fuckery? Either admit you're sick of me, or take me to bed and fuck me into the mattress. You have just these two options."

Brian freed his hand. "I'm going to the store to buy orange juice. Don't wait up."

In his angry haze, Justin snatched the first available object, a hard plastic plate, and hurled it at Brian, hitting him in the shoulder.

"Ow. Fuck! What was that for?" Brian turned to glare at Justin, rubbing his shoulder.

"You should be glad I didn't grab the knife. You might not be so lucky the next time. Now get the fuck out of my sight!"

"Justin, I just…can't. It's none of what you're thinking," he said softly.

"Then fucking explain yourself! How do you think I feel when you keep rejecting me? It's been almost five months, Brian! FIVE!"

Cringing, Brian looked away, before walking backwards to the door leading to the garage. "Later."

Justin screamed, before slamming his fist to the table. "Asshole!"

Once Brian was gone, it took Justin a while to calm down, then he called Emmett. "Hey, Em. I figured out what's wrong."

"I hope it's not serious."

"There's no treatment for this," Justin said solemnly, lounging on their bed with Lucky by his side.

"Oh no, baby! I'm so sorry," Emmett whispered compassionately.

"Yeah. Well, I've made my own bed. I'm stuck with the biggest asshole on the face of the earth!"

"So what's wrong with Brian?"

"He's an asshole, that is! When he feels like it, he'll let me know. Isn't he a sweetheart?"

"I can't believe it! There must be something, Justin. No one, not even Brian can withhold sex just because…they want to."

"While he's on his ambition tour, I have to suffer. Heck. We're both suffering. You should see his right hand."

"What if you surprise him? Try jerking him off or blowing him in his sleep?"

"I've tried before. Besides, I have to get through the layers of clothes covering his body. I haven't seen him naked in just as long as we haven't had sex."

oOo

Brian stepped into Red Cape a few minutes before closing time. Michael was biding his last customer goodbye. With the little boy out the door, Brian turned to sign to CLOSED then locked the door.

"We need to talk."

"What's up?" Michael busied with putting the comic books he couldn't sell to the little boy back to their right place.

"Fuck these!" Brian snatched the magazines, flinging them away. "I'm fucking this up royally, Mikey! Justin thinks I'm cheating!"

"Why would he think that?" Michael tugged his distressed friend to the couch.

"We haven't fucked in forever."

"How long is forever to you? Five hours?"

Brian lit himself a cigarette, taking a few pulls. "Nearly five months."

"What?" Michael gasped. "What the fuck is wrong with the little shit?"

"It's me, Mikey. I avoided it like the plague since…"

"Since?"

Brian left his smoke between his lips, lifting his shirt. "Look at me! I'm turning into a fat fart! Do you think Justin would like to look at this? Nothing I do helps. Stop laughing, you idiot!"

"You stopped fucking…which in itself is science fiction…because you have a tiny ring of fat on your otherwise flat and toned stomach?"

"Yes! I'm fat. And it gets bigger, which is fucking annoying!"

"I'm sorry to break it to you, Bri, but after a certain age…your body changes. And seriously? Do you think Justin will care if you are fat? Which you're not!" He snatched the cigarette from Brian's lips. "I have my own fat." Michael lifted his shirt. "Ben doesn't give a shit."

Brian looked at his own stomach, sucking it in. "I've been such an ass to Justin. I don't think he'll ever forgive me."

"Did you really not fuck in five months?"

"It's odd, but yes. My hand is my dick's best friend, just like in high school."

Michael fell back against the couch, laughing hysterically. "You're insane. My advice is go back home and start groveling. You have five months of catching up. I hope to see you resurfacing around Christmas."

Brian chuckled. "Thanks, Mikey. I needed the pep talk."

"Anytime." He kissed Brian's lips, sending him back home.

oOo

It was late at night when Brian returned.

He found Justin lounged on his stomach in their bed, sketching. Shuffling to the bed, Brian sat down, running a hand down Justin's back, stilling at his ass.

Fuck. His cock twitched at feeling that bubble butt again. He'd been an idiot to withhold sex only because he had some fat on his stomach. Justin had never judged him on how he looked.

"Hi, Sunshine." Brian nuzzled behind Justin's ear. "Why sketch the dog when you could draw me? You know I love posing for you." He bit the plump earlobe.

Justin snorted, shrugging his shoulder, pushing Brian away without looking at him.

"Hey, I'm sorry."

"Fuck off. Go disappear to wherever the fuck you hide before I fall asleep. I'm still awake as you can see."

"It's good, because I'm not into the whole Undertaker thing. I prefer you to be awake and willing when I am inside you."

Justin glanced over his shoulder. "Did you hit your head? Did you say you want to be inside me? Your stupid orange juice is rotten."

"I've been an idiot, Justin. Let me explain."

"Fuck off, Brian. I'm not in the mood to hear your excuses."

To Justin's surprise, Brian slid out of the bed. He returned to sketching. But then got distracted by a pair of underwear, smelling suspiciously like Brian, landing on his head.

He whirled around, gaping at the naked Brian in front of him. Justin was sure he was seeing things. He rubbed at his eyes, shaking his head.

"You're real," he whispered. "Fuck! Tell me you're not joking about this. I miss you so much."

Brian smiled sheepishly, opening his arms. "Say something."

"You're so fucking hot." Justin cupped his erection through his pants. "Fuck, I'm so hard."

"Are you having sight problems? You don't see anything suspicious?"

"What is suspicious here is how you can stand there naked, talking to me, instead of fucking me!" Justin sat on his knees, ripping his clothes off. "Come closer." He wrapped his arms around Brian's waist, kissing his chest, licking his nipples, dipping his tongue in the navel.

"You have to see it yourself, Justin. Tell me if you find me gross."

"Why in the world would you think that? God. I'm going to need all night to get reacquainted with your glorious body."

Brian pinched his side, showing Justin the excess of skin. "I'm fat!"

Justin pulled away, shocked. "Who told you that you're fat?"

"No one! I noticed it…a while ago."

"Is January first a while ago?" Justin asked, suspiciously.

Brian averted his eyes. "I was taking a piss when I saw it. Then every time I sat down, it would fold out and look gross. All the late hours I arrived home? I'd been at the gym trying to work that thing off me. Nothing helps! I despise it!"

"Christ, Brian! Can't you have a normal midlife crisis? Like I don't know…turn straight? Fuck!" Justin flopped back on the bed.

"I look hideous. Why the fuck do you think I always keep my clothes on…or I haven't allowed you to see me naked?"

"You didn't pull such a tantrum when we discovered your first white hair. Turning into a fat fuck is worse than having white hair, apparently."

"So you don't mind," Brian asked in a small, insecure voice.

Justin rolled his eyes. "Turn the light off. I can't imagine having to see your nonexistent fat stomach for the rest of my life!"

"Don't get smart, twat! This is a sensitive subject."

"You don't say?" Justin pulled Brian to bed, kissing him slowly. "Jesus, Brian. I'll cut your dick off if you pull something like this on me again! I swear."

Brian gulped thickly. "Got it."

"From now on, we talk about whatever insecurities we have. Promise me."

"Promise," Brian whispered, cupping Justin's cheeks. "I'm really sorry."

"Apologize by making it up to me for the past five months. You know how to take it to the extreme—either you fuck until you pass out, or you don't fuck until you explode of pent-up sexual frustration."

.

.

.

"Whoever said that abstinence...thrust...made the dick grow harder...deep thrust...clearly knew what he said...deeper thrust...Fuck, I've missed your tight ass."

Between breathless chuckles, Justin tried correcting Brian. "I think...abstinence makes the...heart grow fonder."

"Shh. My version sounds better."

"Can you stop talking? We're only on round ten of making-up. So many more to come."

"And come...and come...and come some more," Brian joked, nuzzling Justin's cheek. "The question here is, how much your ass is going to hate my dick when I'm done with you."

Justin groaned, pushing back against Brian. "For now, my ass loves hugging your dick. It's been missed. I think my ass thought your dick abandoned him, and he had no idea what he'd done wrong."

"And you accuse me of talking too much," Brian mumbled, flipping Justin around. In the new position, he nailed his prostate, bringing Justin closer to his release.

He wondered how many more times they could come before they passed out. It was already the next morning, and they'd taken a brief nap and a break for a snack since they started making up for the lost months.

.

.

.

They lay side by side, catching their breaths.

Justin slapped the back of his hand to Brian's stomach. "You killed me. I can't move."

"What do you know? Even at a certain age I can beat my own personal record."

"And guess what? I can barely see any more of that supposed fat on your stomach. Fucking burns more calories than stupid gym trips."

"Where were you when I needed that piece of advice?" Brian groaned, lifting his head to peer at his stomach.

Justin rolled on his side, propping his head in his hand. "I was right here, trying to figure out why my husband has shut me off suddenly."

Brian averted his gaze. "I doubt I can apologize enough for what an idiot I've been."

"How about next round, I top?" Justin smirked. "After we eat something."

"Yeah, later. I doubt that even my dick is up for one more after the fuck-athon."

Justin slid out of the bed, a hand cupping his ass as he cringed. "I'm surprised your dick is still up for it at your age," he said teasingly.

"You're so going to pay for that!" Brian growled, reaching across the bed and tugging Justin back. He lost his balance, falling on top of Brian.

They both ended up in a tickle wresting war that left them breathless and with tears from laughing so much. When they settled, Justin rested his head on Brian's chest, sighing in content. Brian ran a hand over Justin's arm, smiling. He was grateful for having someone as understanding as Justin beside him, who helped him overcome whatever ridiculous life crisis he encountered.