The Present



“Maybe you’d rather just cuddle.”



They were in bed. Brian had been lying on his side with his back turned for over an hour. Justin hadn’t really noticed; the article he was reading was super interesting. He’d just assumed Brian was sleeping, but when he set aside the magazine and got under the covers, he realized that Brian was just lying there, staring at his hand, obviously unhappy.



Something was wrong. Maybe even really wrong.



Brian had been acting strangely all evening – heck, he’d been acting strangely since the night before. Not only had he suggested they stay in for the evening, but he’d even turned down the opportunity to fuck one of the hottest guys Justin had seen in a long time. How Brian had found it in himself to turn away, Justin didn’t know. All he knew was that Brian had said something about prisoners and last meals, and the next thing Justin knew, Emmett was hooking up with the trick, and Brian was telling him he wanted to go home.



Supper that night had been quiet. Beyond saying he’d made a few revisions to the Remsen ad, Brian hadn’t said anything, and he hadn’t finished his meal either. Given that he went straight to bed, Justin had assumed he wasn’t feeling well . . . but now . . . now he knew that whatever was ailing Brian was in his mind, not his body



Justin had pressed himself against Brian’s back and slid a hand down Brian’s bare arm, breathing in his scent and feeling his dick twitch. Yes, something wasn’t right, but rarely had there been something amiss between them that sex couldn’t solve. Justin had done his best, telling Brian that he’d had a dream in which Brian was fucking him in their new house, in the stables, heck, even on the tennis court, but Brian’s only response had been a couple smartass remarks about cooking and gardening. When Justin had finally had enough of Brian’s sulking, he got under the covers and tried to go down on him . . . only to be asked if he’d rather cuddle than suck cock.



What. The. Fuck?





Five Days Ago

“I don’t know, you guys . . . .”



Justin, Michael and Emmett were having lunch at the diner. It was rainy and cold outside, and condensation had fogged-up the windows. Someone had drawn a dick and balls in it. Justin had been lost in his thoughts, staring absentmindedly at the rather accurate rendering, only half listening to his friends prattling on about kids and bridezillas, when he was rudely yanked back into the moment by the words “stag,” “party” and “surprise.”



“I don’t know,” he said again.



“C’mon. He’ll have a great time,” Michael said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “He’s been really stressed out about work lately; the party will help take his mind off things.”



“And you should see the hottie-pants we picked out,” Emmett chimed in. “Beefy and brainless. Brian’s favorite kind.”



“It’s the best gift we can give him,” Michael said. “You know he’d prefer a fuck over fine china.”



“A night on the town getting high and fucking his brains out,” Emmett elaborated. “He’ll get it all out of his system in one night.”



When Justin didn’t say anything, they both looked at him with twin frowns.



“What’s wrong?” Michael said, filling his spoon with another mound of potatoes. “I don’t get why you don’t want to do this. It’s perfect. Don’t worry; he’ll have more than forty-eight hours to recover before the Big Day.”



“Is it jealousy, honey?” Emmett asked, reaching across the table and placing a consoling hand on top of Justin’s. “Because we don’t have to do the trick thing.”



This time it was Justin’s turn to frown questioningly.



“Don’t be jealous,” Michael said. “You know Brian’s fucking doesn’t reflect on your relationship.”



“It’s not like you’re expecting him to be monogamous,” Emmett said, patting Justin’s hand before returning to his chowder.



Justin just looked at them. This was not a conversation he wanted to be having in the diner. Hell, this was not a conversation he wanted to be having with anyone except Daphne. He and Brian had never discussed whether their marriage would be monogamous. Why would they? It wasn’t even an issue. Of course, Brian would still fuck other guys. Hopefully fewer and hopefully more discreetly, but the idea of a monogamous Brian . . . ? Justin shuddered.



“Holy shit, Justin!” Michael exclaimed, totally misreading Justin’s silence. “You know he won’t be able to be monogamous.”



“Sweetie, you’re walking into a hot mess if that’s what you’re expecting,” Emmett said solemnly.



Justin dropped his head into his hands and scrubbed his face. They thought the whole reason he was against the stag party was that Brian would fuck some rent boy. They couldn’t be more wrong. The reason Justin thought the party was a bad idea was that Brian had been acting so oddly lately. At the best of times, Brian didn’t like surprises, and sadly these were not the best of times. Apparently, Brian didn’t respond well to wedding stress. Michael and Emmett had already planned everything though – all the way down to the drugs and the trick. But Brian was going to hate it – Justin knew Brian was going to hate it. Why would that be news to them? They’d known Brian longer than he had, especially Michael.



“It’s not the trick,” he said.



“Then what is it?” Michael asked.



“It’s just . . . you know how he hates being put on the spot.”



“Yeah, but this is all just for fun. Hell, isn’t he kind of expecting some kind of send-off party?” Michael said, digging into his turkey slices. Why, Justin thought distractedly, why did Michael always start a meal by eating the sides and not the meat? He shook his head and returned to the unnerving conversation at hand.



“He’s not getting ‘sent-off.’ He’s not going anywhere. He’s getting married. It’s not like he’s a sentenced prisoner on his way to Alcatraz.”



Emmett laughed. “Of, course, it is. You know how Brian feels about marriage.”



“Em . . .”



“But it’s true, Michael. You’ve said so yourself.”



“Said what?” Justin asked even though he was pretty sure he didn’t want the conversation to go any further.



“I just said that it’ll be a big adjustment for him. That’s all. Em, why’d you have to say something?”



“Because he should know.” Emmett turned to look at Justin. “He’s never going to be able to stay monogamous. You know that right?”



“Whoever said anything about monogamy?” Justin asked because what the fuck? Did people think that he was born yesterday? That he didn’t know what he was getting into by marrying Brian?



Emmett and Michael stared at him. They both look stunned.



“You’re not expecting Brian to stop tricking?” Michael asked.



“No,” Justin said with his best “duh!” voice. “He wouldn’t be Brian if he stopped fucking. The only thing I want – that I’ve ever wanted—is for him to just tone it down a bit. I’ve never wanted – or expected – him to stop tricking. I just wanted for him to stop doing it every other damn day.”



Emmett and Michael were still staring at him.



“That’s what you thought I wanted?” Justin said. “A monogamous relationship?”



“We just assumed . . .” Emmett said.



“Yeah, you left him because . . .” Michael added, sounding astonished, his fork suspended halfway between his mouth and the plate.



Justin sighed. “I left him because I was tired of being the fallback plan for the night. I was tired of him being unable to grow the balls to tell me he loves me. I was tired of being mocked for wanting something more. But I did not leave him because he fucked other guys.”



“Honey,” Emmett said, sounding concerned. “Does he know that?”



“God,” Michael said. “I joked with him the other day about not kissing me because he was going to be a married man soon. He probably flipped out inside.”



“Really? You said that?” Justin asked, trying not to panic.



“Don’t be upset at Michael,” Emmett said. “Any of us would’ve said that. Especially Lindsay by the way.”



Justin combed his fingers through his hair with exasperation.



“So, everyone’s going to be pissed off and disappointed in him if Brian keeps tricking.”



“Well, . . . uhm . . .” Emmett said with a guilty grimace. “Maybe not us, but Deb and the lesbians . . .”



“I won’t be surprised, but disappointed?” Michael said. “Yeah. I guess. Why else ask you to marry him if he’s not planning on being monogamous?”



Great. Just great. Suddenly, Justin needed to see Brian. This was . . . like Emmett had said, this could all turn into a hot mess. A boiling hot mess.



He stood up from the booth, took money out of his wallet and gave it to Emmett, who tried to tell him to keep it, but then stopped when he realized that Justin wasn’t in the mood for an argument, no matter how polite and well intentioned.



“Justin . . .” Michael said, sounding worried.



“I’m fine,” Justin replied, putting on his parka. “I just . . . there’s stuff I need to do for the wedding.”



“Speaking of which,” Emmett said, obviously desperate to leave things on a positive note. “We should discuss what kind of napkins you want.”



Justin wanted to tell him to fuck the napkins, but it wouldn’t be fair. In fact, Michael and Emmett had done him a favor. They’d given him a heads-up. Who else was making assumptions about his and Brian’s marriage? Ted? Deb? His mother? Hell, Daphne?



Thank God, Brian wasn’t making assumptions. There was no way he could simply assume Justin wanted their marriage to be monogamous, right?



Right??



Justin was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost missed his stop. It was a good thing another passenger needed to get off and alerted the driver. When he stepped out of the bus, he took his hat out of his pocket and put it on. It was fucking freezing. In mid-April! Thank God, he and Brian would be in Monaco this time next week.



The cold rain made the walk to Kinnetik seem longer than usual, so he was annoyed when Cynthia told him that Brian had left to go home about an hour ago. He caught another bus and got off at the stop on Tremont. When he came around the corner, he realized the Vette wasn’t there. He was surprised. Hadn’t Cynthia said Brian had told her he was going home?



He climbed the stairs, walked into the loft and closed the door behind him. When the clang-bang stopped echoing, he was struck by the silence. He wondered why it felt strange, and then he realized that for the past two months, he’d rarely been alone. If Brian wasn’t at work, he was at home. The realization made Justin feel queasy. For as long as he’d known Brian, even when he’d been sick, Brian had never once spent every night of a week at home, let alone every night for two months.



God! Brian must be feeling totally shell-shocked!



Why hadn’t he thought about all this before? They had to talk about it now, tonight, as soon as Brian walked through that door. They needed to talk about their expectations for one another, their expectations for their marriage. Brian needed to tell him what he wanted, and Justin needed to do the same. And it had to happen now before they were married, before they made their vows to each other!



Justin went to the wine cabinet to check and make sure that there was more than one bottle. Thankfully there was some Shiraz a client had given Brian as a wedding gift the week before. Brian was going to need a glass or three to get through such an important and intimate conversation. Then he took a shower, got dressed, started making supper . . .



. . . and waited. And waited and waited and waited.



By the time Brian walked through the door, Justin was too upset that he hadn’t called that he knew it wasn’t the right time to have a deep conversation. Not to mention the fact that Brian looked pale and tired. They’d talk another time. Heck, it wasn’t like they were getting married tomorrow.



“Hey,” Justin said, kissing him. “Supper’s almost ready.”



Brian kissed him back, but not deeply, not erotically.



“I’m sorry . . .” he said when they pulled apart.



“. . . Sorry for what?” Justin asked. “It’s not like anything’s burnt. C’mon, pour us some wine and tell me about your day.”



Brian gave him a wobbly smile and took off his coat and gloves.



“I’m sorry,” he said again.



“It’s fine,” Justin said. All these ‘sorries’ were making him nervous. “Just text me or something next time you’re going to be late. The weather conditions aren’t great. I was kind of worried about you.”



Brian nodded. When he kissed Justin again, it was firmer, and this time, when he pulled away, his smile was less unsure.  He cupped Justin’s cheek in his cold hand, tracing Justin's cheekbone with his thumb.



“I love you so much,” he said.



Justin blinked at him. He was speechless. Brian was totally freaking him out.