Brian lay on his bed, smoking and staring up at the ceiling. He’d had a trick, but the guy was gone now. Justin had asked him not to call again, so he wouldn’t, although he had a niggling suspicion that if he did call, Justin would appreciate it. Or would he? Brian honestly didn’t know. If he was in Justin’s shoes and he’d told someone not to call, he’d be seriously pissed off if they did. Wasn’t that what “love” was? Giving people space?

He’d always monopolized Michael’s life, and he knew it – the only realm of freedom he’d allowed Michael to have was the Big Q, and what kind of bullshit realm was that? He knew he suffocated Michael and called it “love,” which it was . . . but it wasn’t like the feeling he had for Justin, which . . . yeah . . . which might also be “love” . . . a different kind of “love.” A “love” Brian wanted to last, and for it to last, he needed to give Justin ample opportunities to be himself – to learn and grow and explore the world. To be his own man free of people’s meddling. He couldn’t do to Justin what he’d done to Michael. He had to learn how to be different with Justin – less overbearing, less clingy, less manipulative.

It wasn’t easy.

He’d always had jealousy issues when it came to Michael. He would never admit it to anybody, but it was true. When Michael first started hanging out with Ted and Emmett, Brian had lost his mind. He’d made it crystal clear that if Michael wanted to spend time with his new friends, Brian was coming with them, and not only would he be coming with them, he’d be deciding where they went and when they’d go. If they wanted to work-out together, they had to go to Brian’s gym. If they wanted to go out for a drink, then they were going to Woody’s. If they wanted to go out clubbing, they were going to Babylon. That was just the way it was going to be, because if Emmett and Ted didn’t go along with Brian’s agenda, then he was going to make Michael choose between him and them, and the result was a foregone conclusion. It actually said a lot about how much Ted and Emmett liked Michael. Brian did not make life easy for them. He still didn’t, although he thought he was getting at least a little bit better.

He could NOT do the same thing with Justin. First of all, Justin had a stronger sense of self than Michael and would ditch him if he pulled the same shit. Second, Brian didn’t want to do to Justin what he’d done to Michael. He’d basically given Michael no choice. It was either Brian’s way or the highway. He didn’t want to do that with Justin. The feelings he had for Michael were childish – feelings that he should’ve grown out of by now. But his feelings for Justin were the feelings of a man – the kind of man Brian wanted to be. Bold, supportive, generous. Being any one of those things required not acting like a jealous asshole.

Jealousy had the potential to be his downfall. It dominated every aspect of his life and had driven him like a slave to get where he was. He could not let jealousy devour his relationship life with Justin. He needed to step back. He needed to learn to trust that giving Justin extra rope didn’t mean Justin would eventually hang him with it.

He was trying. He was trying really, really hard. Yes, he’d gotten up in Justin’s face about the whole tuition thing, but it’d been agonizing to watch Justin make such patently stupid choices. Letting Justin out of his sight after the bashing had also been tough, but he’d done it. He’d had to. He could help and support Justin, but at the end of the day, Justin needed to seize his recovery and own it and not feel like he owed Brian or anyone else for his sanity.

Brian was also trying hard to deal with a disturbing new breed of jealousy that he’d never felt before – sexual jealousy. The jealousy that compelled him to monopolize Michael’s life was purely emotional. He was emotionally jealous when it came to Justin as well, but it also made him insane when Justin was sexual with another guy unless Brian was right there with him, taking part. It was total, utter bullshit, and Brian tried hard not to let it gnaw at him – after all, he knew that Justin needn’t feel jealous of his tricks, so why did he feel jealous of Justin’s? It made no sense, and it was an insulting double-standard, which was why he encouraged Justin to trick without him. He wanted Justin to know that what was good for the goose was good for the gander. After all, tricking needn’t be a problem – only jealousy when it came to tricking was a problem.

In other words, it was all just fucking . . . unless, of course, he was fucking Justin, and then fucking was . . . well, it was everything.

* * * * * * * * * * *

As he walked up the stairs to the loft, Justin prayed for one thing – one little, tiny, simple thing. Please, please, please, he thought with each upward step. Please don’t let Brian be fucking a trick. Please, God. PLEASE!

But as soon as he closed the door behind him, he realized that that was exactly what Brian was doing – and at four in the afternoon, which could only mean one thing. He’d planned the situation. He knew when Justin would be getting home.

It was revenge, and Justin knew it.

Brian was well on his way to having an orgasm when Justin walked into the bedroom. His throat and chest were flushed, and he was bathed in sweat. His head was thrown back. He was barely present, lost in his pleasure. Usually, the sight would’ve caused a wave of desire to slam into Justin’s stomach and wash over him. Usually, he’d join in. But not this time. All he felt was angry and hurt.

“You’re back,” Brian gasped.

“You noticed,” he replied.

He went straight to the closet, dumped his stuff on the floor and put new clothes in his bag. He was going to Daphne’s.

Brian said nothing when he walked away. A lustful groan was the last thing Justin heard before he slammed the door closed behind him.

He spent the night with Daphne and the following afternoon with Ethan Gold.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Brian had been close to getting off, but Justin’s entry and then immediate departure had distracted him. It took him a few minutes before he was close to coming again, but he doubted the guy he was fucking minded – not if the sounds he was making were anything to judge by. After he came, Brian held the base of the condom as he pulled out; he was more than ready to end the encounter. His trick had come twice during their session – the first time thanks to Brian’s excellent cock-sucking skills, and the second time thanks to Brian’s unsurpassed fucking expertise. He was going to leave satisfied and add his voice to the Liberty Ave Chorus singing Brian Kinney’s praise.

“Can I use your bathroom?” the guy asked.

Brian nodded in the right direction. He removed the condom, tied it in a knot and tossed it in the garbage bin by his bedside. He lit a cigarette and lay back down. It was his last one. He hoped his trick didn’t smoke because he didn’t feel like sharing.

“Want the rest?” Brian asked, offering the guy the half-finished cigarette when he emerged from the bathroom.

“No, thanks,” he replied. “I’m an athlete”

Brian smirked at him. “So am I,” he said.

The guy laughed and rolled his eyes. Brian gave him a big, Cheshire-Cat grin.

“That was really good,” the guy said. “I’d ask for a repeat, but rumor has it you only do guys once.”

“The rumor’s right,” Brian replied. He took one last, long drag on his cigarette before crushing it in the ashtray on his bedside table.

“Pity,” the guys said with a shrug. “Hope whoever-he-is is worth taking you off the market.”

“Oh, never fear,” Brian replied. “I’m not off the market – everyone’s got a chance to play.”

“But only one.”

“But only one.”

The guy finished dressing, and Brian got up to walk him to the door. The guy turned and gave Brian’s body one last, long, appreciative head-to-toe sweep of his gaze.

“Later,” he said.

Brian just smiled and closed the door. Justin was the only one who got a ‘later’ from him.

Speaking of Justin . . . where’d the twat go? Brian strolled into the kitchen and pulled a beer out of the fridge. Justin had walked in, dumped his crap and just walked out again.

Brian went to the living room and flopped down on the couch. You noticed, Justin had said. So, he was still pissed. What the hell? Wasn’t a week away long enough to get over his snit? If anyone should be in a snit, it should be him, Brian. There was no reason that Justin had to go to Vermont without telling him. It’d been punishment, pure and simple. And for what? Because Vance had had Brian’s balls in his hand and would’ve chewed them off if he didn’t deliver the impossible? Did he deserve to be pilloried for fighting to save his career? Besides, Vermont had been his idea in the first place. Hadn’t the offer itself meant anything to Justin? Clearly not. The fact he’d researched and arranged and paid for everything meant jack shit. All of it had been eclipsed by the fact he’d had to go to Chicago for a fucking couple of days.

Brian tipped back the bottle and finished his beer in one big swallow. The fact Justin had come home to find him fucking a trick probably hadn’t helped matters, but, hey, it was Saturday afternoon. Brian always spent Saturday afternoons fucking – although for months now it’d always been Justin he was fucking. And it would be again, of course. One trick on one Saturday wasn’t a big deal. At least it shouldn’t be. Justin must’ve been able to tell he was almost finished with the guy. Why didn’t he get on his computer or turn on the T.V. – or even better, join in? Why leave? What the hell was the big deal? Or was it just more punishment for the whole Vermont thing?

Goddamn it.

Well, now what? Was Justin coming back? At this point, Brian didn’t know what the hell the kid was going to do. It was upsetting. He’d planned to take Justin to Babylon, but now it looked like he’d be going alone.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Even before Daphne answered the knock on her door, she knew it was Justin. She’d known he was coming home that afternoon and was expecting him to stop by – either because he’d returned to a contrite and apologetic boyfriend and wanted to tell her to forget all his bitching and complaining or because said boyfriend had been a dick.

It turned out that Brian had been a dick.

She gave him a hug before he had to say anything. She’d seen in his eyes that he needed comfort. After they let go of each other, she took his hand and led him to the bed and then went to plug in her electric kettle to make them hot chocolate – the kind that came in a packet with tiny, freeze-dried marshmallows in it. When she was done, she carried two mugs over to her bed and handed him one.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked.

He blew on his hot chocolate before taking a premature sip.

“Ow!” he squawked.

“Hot cocoa is hot,” she said, and he smiled.

“So,” she said. “Did you have any fun at all?”

He nodded. “Yeah. A bit. It’s really beautiful up there, and the weather was nice.”

She rubbed his back with her free hand. “Good. I’m glad.”

“But mostly I was miserable. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

He blew on his hot chocolate again and took another tentative sip. When it was clear it didn’t scald him, she took a sip from her own mug.

“It’s safe,” he said. “You won’t burn the roof of your mouth like I did.”

“I’m glad you gave me the heads-up,” she said. “You were the canary in the hot chocolate mine.”

He laughed. She was glad. She hadn’t heard him laugh much during the past week.

“Did he pick you up at the airport?” she asked.

He snorted. “No, he was at the loft.”

“It’s afternoon – I would’ve thought he’d be working nights and weekends for his oh-so important job,” she said.

He snorted again. “If he had been working, then he took time off to find a trick, bring him home and fuck him right in front of me.”

She took a deep breath and then released it with a sigh. “Do you think he did it on purpose?”

“Of course, he did it on purpose.”

“So, let me see if I’ve got this straight: he bails on your trip and then is pissed that you went without him?”

“Pretty much.”

“I guess he was pretty mad that you went without him.”

“Well, I was mad that I had to go without him.”

They sipped their hot chocolate in silence.

“He doesn’t love me.”

Usually, she would argue with him, but not this time.

“He’s made that crystal clear. God, I can’t believe he was fucking a trick! He’s such an asshole! He knew when I’d be coming home, Daph!”

“What’re you going to do?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I’m not a doormat like Michael. He can’t wipe his shit-covered boots on me.”

“You need to tell him how you feel, Jus. Get up in his face and tell him what a jerk he is.”

“So he can verbally abuse me or piss on something of mine again? No thanks.”

“I still can’t believe he did that.”

“I still can’t believe I forgave him.”

“But you didn’t really. You’re still angry.”

He shrugged. “What does it even matter?”

“It matters if you want to fight for your relationship.”

Tears filled his eyes. “Relationship?” he said. “What relationship? Brian and I aren’t in a relationship – we’re in some kind of weird limbo thing. He doesn’t want to be in a relationship. He wants all the benefits and none of the commitments. He wants an ass he can count on if he doesn’t feel like going through the hassle of finding a trick.”

“Then why isn’t the answer clear? Why don’t you leave him?”

He dropped his head and shook it from side to side. He looked like he’d just crawled out of a trench after a long and bloody war.

“It’s not that easy, Daph. If it was, I would’ve already done it by now. I would’ve done it when he pissed all over my artwork. Hell, I would’ve done it after he didn’t visit me in the hospital. But it’s just not that easy. I can’t just walk away.”

She’d still been rubbing his back, but now she slid her hand up to his neck and combed her fingers through his hair. Frankly, Brian was either stupid or insane or both if he didn’t realize how amazing Justin was and how lucky he was to have him. If things had been different . . . if Justin wasn’t gay . . . . She slammed her mind shut. She’d already grieved over that lost dream and let it go. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be furious at Brian.

“What do you think it is? Is it because he’s gorgeous? Is it because you worked so hard to get his attention that now you don’t want to let him go?”

He shrugged. “Probably a bit of both.”

“Those don’t seem like good reasons to stay in a relationship that makes you unhappy.”

He started shaking his head again. “No, it’s also more than that. Brian . . . he’s . . . I don’t know how to describe it. He just has this way about him. You just know there’s more to him than what he allows you to see. Every now and then, I get a glimpse of who he really is, and he’s beautiful, Daph. I don’t just mean looks, I mean his heart. He’s a really beautiful, amazing person, but for some reason, he doesn’t want people to see that. I don’t know . . . maybe he’s damaged in some way. Maybe he’s just really scared people will hurt him. But I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me. He can’t love me if he doesn’t trust me.”

She didn’t say anything because she didn’t know what to say. Instead, she collected their mugs and put them in a tub with her other dirty dishes . . . one of these days, she’d wash them, but having to wash dishes in a communal bathroom is such a pain in the butt. Next year she was going to move out of the dorms and find an apartment . . .

“I want him so much,” Justin moaned miserably, returning her attention to the depressing situation at hand. “I can’t stop wanting him, and I don’t mean just physically. I want him. All of him.”

“Jus . . . I really don’t know what to say. I can’t think of any good advice that might help.”

He lifted his head and smiled at her weakly. “That’s because there isn’t anything you can do. This is something I have to figure out . . . Dammit! I know it sounds weird and maybe even a little shitty, but I wish I could find someone else that I’m more attracted to. Someone who could give me the kind of relationship I want.”

She winced. “Those are dangerous thoughts. Jus, if there’s anything you need, it’s to be on your own for a while. Leave Brian. Find yourself. Don’t just rebound.”

“Yeah,” he said vaguely. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But I don’t know if it would work. I don’t know if I could stay away from Brian if there wasn’t someone else keeping me away. He’s like a magnet. If I break up with him, he’ll walk into the diner someday when I’m working, and it’ll all come back. All of my feelings for him. It’ll be hell on earth. I need someone to protect me from that – someone who loves me.”

He was blinking away tears again. Time to switch the conversation.

“Want to watch T.V.?” she asked. “We’ll find something really brainless that’ll distract us.”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Yeah, that sounds good,” he said. “I can’t stand thinking about all of this anymore.”

She turned on the T.V. and they sat on her bed, leaning against the wall with her quilt pulled up to their chins. She wanted to tell him that everything was going to be okay, but she was pretty sure she’d be lying. She’d never lied to him before, and she wasn’t going to start now.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Brian got drunk at Babylon. Woke up alone hungover. Went to work pissed off. Was given another all-but impossible assignment by Vance (who made the first of what was sure to be an endless barrage of snarky remarks about Brian’s salary). And then came home to a sulking Justin. The day really couldn’t have been worse.

Obviously, he wasn’t going to be able to fix it – this situation with Justin. The best he could hope for was that Justin would get over it. He wasn’t going to try to talk about it. Nothing good ever came from talking. What were words anyway? He worked with them all day. Words, words, words and more words. Words that made people want things they didn’t need. Words that scared people into wanting things they didn’t need. Words about anti-aging creams and diet supplements and germ-killing hand soap – all of them lies. Your life will be less insane if your closet was organized and your vacuum cleaner could handle those “hard-to-reach places!” You’ll be a better parent if you buy a particular brand of baby food or diaper or “educational toy!” You’ll be a real man if you buy expensive exercise machines and take a pill for your erectile dysfunction! You’ll be a desirable woman if you buy a particular bra and shave your legs with a particular brand of shaving cream! And on and on and on and on. Blah blah blah. Words didn’t tell the truth; they obfuscated the truth. Hell, words had gotten him and Justin into this mess, to begin with. More words weren’t going to fix what words had fucked up.

There were things he wanted to communicate though – like “it’s so nice not to come home to any empty apartment.” Or “you look great with that tan.” Or “life wasn’t all that much fun while you were away.” Or “I didn’t sleep well without you beside me.” Or “I ate take-out every night because you weren’t here to cook me something delicious.” Or “watching T.V alone was a drag.” Or “I missed tripping over your school crap.” Or “things are too quiet when you’re not here.” Or “Babylon was boring.” Or “I drank too much because, without you, my demons attack me.” Or “I didn’t laugh much because nothing was funny.” Or “I didn’t have much energy because fucking you in the shower in the morning starts my day off on the right foot and wakes me up better than a triple-shot Starbucks latte – it never used to be like that, Justin. Nothing had ever made mornings okay before you came along.”

He wanted to say all those things and more but . . . well, just “but.”

In the end, the only thing of any substance that he said was, “Why didn’t you tell me you were going?”

When Justin answered that he didn’t say anything because Brian wouldn’t have given a shit, Brian knew he needed to shut him up – he needed to shut both of them up.

Justin loved being fucked standing up, and Brian loved to fuck him how he most wanted to be fucked, so positioning Justin against a beam and entering him with an expert thrust was the only thing to do that made any sense. It took a minute, but eventually Justin relaxed and let his head lull back onto Brian’s shoulder. Brian took careful note of every little, tiny thing – a hitch in Justin’s breathing, a moan when Brian’s cock hit just the right spot, a push backward against Brian’s pelvis in an effort to take him deeper. He put all his focus and effort into fucking Justin thoroughly and well, easing him toward a mind-blowing climax – not too quickly. Brain wanted it to last; he wanted Justin to feel everything he couldn’t say. His own orgasm wasn’t even part of it. He didn’t even care if he came. He would, of course, and Justin would be disappointed (and possibly freaked out) if he didn’t, but his orgasm wasn’t what mattered. Everything was for Justin. Even when he came, it would be for Justin – Justin loved it when Brian let himself go completely, and what Justin wanted was what Justin was going to get.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he murmured against Justin’s neck in-between kisses so intense that he sucked blood to the surface of Justin’s skin, leaving behind purplish marks on his pale skin. Justin was going to have to wear a shirt with a collar for the next couple days. “So fucking hot, Justin,” he murmured again, making Justin shiver.

He held Justin’s hips still to make sure he achieved the greatest depth possible. The pace he set was steady and predictable so that Justin could count on it as he jerked off. Brian had to bend his knees to make up for the difference in their heights, and his thigh muscles burned with exertion. Each of his thrusts was a tightly controlled, quick, hard upward motion that required more core strength than a hundred sit-ups and as much flexibility and dexterity as the most challenging yoga position. He altered his breathing to accompany his body’s movements – inhale on an upward thrust, exhale as he pulled back, over and over, occasionally punctuating his rhythm with a grunt or a moan. He wanted Justin to know how turned on he was – how completely immersed in their fucking. He wanted Justin to know that nothing else mattered – nothing except this moment, their bodies joined, their sweat mingled, their breaths shared. They were partners in an ancient, primal dance.

“Brian,” Justin moaned, and then again, “Brian.”

He was close, which meant that Brian had to be religious about maintaining his control. Any change in pace or depth or force could interfere with Justin’s orgasm. It was no longer easy. He was rapidly nearing his own climax, but he had to hold on, hold back. It was never this difficult with his tricks – Brian never felt overwhelmed like he did with Justin. Yes, his tricks’ pleasure was important to him, but for very different reasons than Justin’s pleasure was important to him. With his tricks, it was a matter of professional pride – a desire not only to live up to their expectations, but exceed them. A satisfied trick was like a satisfied client, and Brian basked in their appreciation. It was one of the reasons he fucked so many men – it was an ego boost, an affirmation of his worth . . . but, like everything, it was different when he was with Justin. Fucking Justin wasn’t about showing off; it was about being present for another person, being real for him. Justin’s pleasure was everything to him – everything he wanted, everything he strove for – nothing else mattered. Each time he fucked Justin, he wanted to do it better than the last time. Not because he wanted to impress Justin, but because he wanted to give Justin the gift of pure bliss, pure sexual release. He’d do anything to help Justin’s soul fly free of his body. If only for a few seconds, he wanted to help Justin see God.

“Tell me when you’re going to come,” he gasped.

“I’m going to come,” Justin replied with a breathless laugh.

Brian thrust his hips with savage force – once, twice, three times – and when Justin froze, he froze too, letting nothing distract Justin from the sensation of orgasm. Justin was so overtaken that he didn’t make a sound until it was over and he collapsed in Brian’s arms with a beautiful, helpless-sounding cry. Brian held him close and surrendered to his release with a cry of his own. In the midst of the tidal rush of pleasure, he heard Justin say his name again, his voice full of emotion. He was shaking when it was all over, but he still held Justin close as he carefully pulled his cock free and then led him to the couch where they collapsed, lightheaded from breathlessness.

Brian rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. His heart was still pounding, and with every beat, his still-hard cock throbbed, his arousal diminishing only slowly.

“Fuck,” he groaned. He was still shaking. He’d given his all, and now he was completely wrung out.

He felt Justin tuck his sweat-damp hair behind his ear and softly kiss his cheek. He opened his eyes and turned his head to smile at him.

“Well?” he asked.

Justin returned his smile. Brian waited for his answer. It never came. When Justin’s smile faded, he stood and walked to the bathroom, leaving Brian behind to wonder if he’d made everything okay again . . . or fucked things up even more.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Justin closed his eyes with weary resignation when, instead of answering his question, Brian came up behind him and slid his hands down his chest and into his lap.

Did you miss me?

Why was that such a hard question to answer?

He didn’t want to, but he stood anyway when Brian helped him to his feet. Brian was going to fuck him. No surprise there. Why talk when you can get your rocks off?

Brian led him to one of the beams and turned him around so that Justin’s back was against his chest. Nice. They weren’t even going to fuck face-to-face. Brian pulled off his shirt and then opened his pants so that Justin could shimmy them off his hips and kick them aside. He felt Brian’s hands graze against his ass when Brian opened his own fly. When they were both naked with skin against skin, Justin noticed that Brian was already rock hard. He, himself, wasn’t even halfway there. This is not what he wanted – and it sure as hell wasn’t what he needed.

He heard Brian tear open a packet and then felt him sheathe his dick with a lubed condom. He braced himself for the first thrust because he knew it was going to hurt like hell. He was too tense. Sure enough, he was right. Did Brian notice – and if he did, did he even care? It was always all about Brian and his orgasm. Justin was just the convenient hole to stick his dick in . . .

. . . but then – like it always did – pain turned into a pleasure so intense, he had to tighten his grip on the beam to stay standing. His head fell back against Brian’s shoulder. God, Brian’s cock felt so fucking good inside him! How the hell could he live without this? Even if another man loved him, he’d never be able to give Justin as much sexual pleasure as Brian did . . .

. . . the realization terrified the hell out of him and made him almost hate Brian for causing it – for feeding a destructive addiction. Justin couldn’t give this up. No matter how much he might resent it, he couldn’t bear to give up the excruciating bliss Brian made him feel. Brian’s every thrust was perfection – his every breath, his every kiss, his every caress, his every moan was perfection. No one – no one – would ever fuck him like Brian did. No one could possibly make him feel like Brian made him feel. He couldn’t get enough of Brian’s body. His touch kindled an unquenchable fire that even the most intense orgasm couldn’t sate. He’d starve without Brian, without the exquisite sensation of Brian’s perfect cock inside him.

“Do you feel my cock?” Brian groaned against his neck. “Do you feel how hard you make it? I’m so hard, Justin. I need to have my cock inside you. I need to fuck you. I’m so so fucking hard. I’m so hard that it fucking hurts – that’s how hot and hard you make me. I was born to fuck your ass. You own my cock, Sunshine. Fuck yourself on it; that’s right. Just like that. God, it feels so good. You’re so fucking beautiful. You should see yourself. I’m barely able to hold back. My balls ache. I want to shoot my load inside you, fill you up. I’ve got so much come, and it’s all for you. All of it. Every last fucking drop. I’m going to fuck your ass until I come my brains out. God, Justin . . . you have no idea . . . no fucking idea . . . That’s it, that’s it. Take my cock. Take every rock-hard inch of it. It’s yours, Justin. . . . Oh fuck! I’m going to fucking lose it. I need to come so fucking bad!”

He was barely conscious, aware of nothing but Brian’s cock and his words, murmured hot and moist against his skin. Brian was hitting his sweet spot with every thrust, his pace steady and perfect. Not too fast and not too slow. Just right. So fucking right! He reached down and started jerking off, completely confident that Brian was going to fuck him flawlessly till he came, and then Brian was going to let himself go, fucking Justin hard and fast and then freezing with a broken cry. His orgasm would go on forever, longer than those of mere mortals, and it would shatter him completely.

God, Justin lived for Brian’s orgasms!

“Tell me when you’re going to come,” Brian gasped.

“I’m going to come,” he replied.

Brian seized his hips in both hands and held him steady as he drove into him, fucking Justin for all he was worth . . .

When Justin came he saw stars, and then wave after wave of black velvet blotted them out. He was on the verge of passing out, helpless and undone and grateful beyond words. When Brian came, he came again even harder and longer than the first time.

He could feel Brian’s whole body shaking when Brian caught him before he could slump to the floor, and he was still shaking when they collapsed on the couch, side by side. An unbearable tenderness filled Justin’s heart when Brian tipped his head back, baring his throat, and closing his eyes. His hair was drenched with sweat. Justin reached out and tucked a lock behind his ear and then leaned over and kissed Brian’s cheek. He was beautiful – so achingly beautiful that Justin thought he could grow to hate him for it.

This man – this unknowable man – was never going to love him the way he needed to be loved. His cock wasn’t enough. Justin wanted his heart . . .

. . . and if he couldn’t have it, he wanted his own heart back before Brian broke it again.