Chapter 17 - Coming Out.

Brian woke up the next morning with his arms full of snugly blond boy, which was an utterly shocking experience.

It wasn’t so much that he’d never woken up with another man in his bed - that did happen, on occasion, when he was too drunk or exhausted to remember to kick his trick out before he fell asleep. No, what was shocking was that he found he rather liked the sensation. Whereas he generally hated the way his tricks would glom on him after sex, and just generally disliked being touched by them except when he was fucking them, this felt . . . kinda nice. Justin was warm and pliant in his embrace, the smaller body curled up around Brian, his head resting in the hollow of Brian’s shoulder and one arm draped over Brian's stomach. It felt like the ghost had been custom-made specifically to fit in that spot. He didn’t feel too big, or too sweaty or too heavy. Brian didn’t feel like immediately pushing the other body away, which is how he usually responded in this kind of situation. So, yeah, he was shocked, but in a very, very good way.

So he decided to just go with it. Brian let his head drop down till his nose was tickled by the tendrils of long blond and inhaled the boy’s toasty, warm, masculine aroma. Damn, he loved the smell of another man. He loved them clean and just out of the shower. He loved them sweaty. He loved them reeking of sex. He just loved the smell of men in general. But this one smelled so appetizing and enticing that Brian groaned aloud, albeit quietly.  

The small sound must have been enough to penetrate the boy’s dreams though, since Justin shifted slightly in his sleep and the low rumbling purr of his quiet snores stuttered and then died. The blond head rooted around until it found an even more comfortable position on Brian’s shoulder and one muscular leg snaked out, hooking itself around Brian’s left thigh. When he was once again settled, the boy’s body seemed to sag even closer to Brian, if that were possible, so that there wasn’t a millimeter of space between them all down Brian’s side.

Brian had, of course, noticed the boy’s body the evening before in the shower, but at the time he’d been too focused on making sure the kid wasn’t badly injured to get all hot and bothered by the experience. Not so now. With the kid curled up around him like a shrimp, it was hard to ignore the fact that his snugly bedwarmer was buck naked. And, even though the kid was still ridiculously thin, there were at least a couple of parts on him that were pleasingly plump. That round little bubble butt for instance was just perfect. So perfect that Brian couldn’t help himself and simply had to reach one hand down and cup an ass cheek, allowing the soft skin to fill his palm.

Like all the other parts of this boy, that one seemed to fit just perfectly too. Brian’s fingers reflexively squeezed a little. The firm muscle under his fingertips gave slightly and then rebounded elastically. The boy’s hips tilted forward in unconscious response, pressing against Brian’s hip and giving evidence of a growing hardness there. Brian, who’d woken up with his usual generous morning wood, felt his own dick twitch joyously at the prospect of getting some up-close and personal time with the little ghost. And, while Brian’s rational, gentlemanly mind knew he shouldn’t take advantage of the situation, his primal instincts were stronger. Accordingly, he reached down, pulled the thigh draped across his leg higher, and began gently, silently, rutting against the warm flesh he encountered there.

A few moments later, there was a sub-vocal ‘mmmm’ from the head resting on his shoulder and the body he’d been holding onto shifted. The hips did their tilty thing again and Brian could feel that the boy was now fully hard. At the same time, the thigh muscles draped over him contracted and then relaxed, as did the arm circling his belly. Then the blond head twisted slightly, nestling deeper into the skin of Brian’ shoulder, until the cotton-candy pink lips encountered warm flesh and offered up a gentle, automatic kiss. Brian, who thought kissing sounded like a wonderful way to progress things, slanted his own lips down so he could return the favor and leave a kiss on the broad forehead. Whereupon, the sleepy head raised up, a sultry smile on those tempting lips and the eyes still closed, so that their two mouths could connect properly and the kissing could continue more fully.

It must have been when Brian nipped a little too assertively on Justin’s plump bottom lip that the kid finally came to all the way. Brian felt the minute recoil of shock and the pause of the lips against his own. The boy’s formerly pliant body stiffened and the long, dark blond eyelashes fluttered slowly open till two big cornflower blue eyes were staring up at Brian.

“I’m not still dreaming . . . am I?”

Brian replied by twisting his neck to leave another kiss on the startled lips of his GhostBoy.

“You dream about THIS,” Brian deliberately pushed his hips higher so that his cock pressed strongly into the thigh he hadn’t yet let go of, “a lot, do you?”

“Well . . . Um . . . Actually, yeah,” Justin confessed, punctuating his words with a long ‘mmmmmm’ as Brian did that thing with his hips again and then claimed the boy’s mouth for another kiss that precluded further discussion for the time being.

Several long minutes followed, filled with more long, steamy kisses and increasingly urgent rutting on both parts, before the two of them had to break momentarily for a breath.

“You certainly are a naughty little boy, Ghost,” Brian teased with a low chuckle and a nip to the tip of Justin’s snub nose. “Dreaming about THIS all the time . . .”

As Brian said the word ‘this’ he took the initiative to roll the both of them over in a tangle of legs and arms until he came to rest comfortably positioned in the vee of Justin’s widespread legs, his cock dangling provocatively between them.

“You know, if this WERE a dream, this would probably be the point where something really strange happened and you’d start speaking in Chinese or I’d blink and you’d turn into a frog or maybe one of those scary clowns, you know . . .” Justin mused, looking critically up at Brian as if waiting for his prophecy to come to pass. “At least, that’s the way my dreams usually end up.”

“Are you seriously going to equate waking up in bed, next to the most gorgeous man you know, with a nightmare?” Brian complained. “I’m truly offended, Ghost. First you make fun of my cock last night and now you’re saying kissing me is a nightmare? If that’s how you feel, I could always stop . . .”

Brian made a move as if to get up, causing the blond ghost to reflexively grab hold of his shoulders and wrap his legs tightly around Brian’s backside so the big man couldn’t escape.

“Hey, get back here, you. It’ s my dream and I get to say when or if you leave,” Justin demanded, pulling Brian back down so that their lips were again within touching distance. “Besides, I never said I’d stop kissing you even if you do turn into a scary clown.

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever been with a guy who was turned on by scary clowns. That’s impressively kinky, Ghost. I didn’t even know that was a thing,” Brian continued to tease, rather enjoying this verbal sparring with his sassy morning ghost.

“You’re one to talk,” the phantom boy shot back. “I’m not the one making out with someone he seems to think is an incorporeal spirit. Now THAT’S kinky.”

“At least you’re not a SCARY ghost, though,” Brian agreed, kissing the ghost in question one more time, just because he could. “I only get my kink on for sexy, sassy, hot little ghost boys . . .”

That caused Brian’s very own GhostBoy to giggle, and the sound went right to Brian’s cock, proving in a very real way how turned on HE was by this particular specter. Not that he’d ever admit to a kink for twinkie giggles, of course. And, to cover up his reaction, Brian promptly returned to his work of kissing and fondling the playful, gigging boy in his bed.

Which is when things got serious again rather quickly. In no time at all, the playful mood had been burned away by the rising lust as they rutted against each other, kissing, tasting, and touching. Brian was spurred on by the feeling of Justin’s hot, hard length trapped between their bellies and slowly dripping pearls of cum as their actions progressed. It wasn’t long before he was unconsciously nudging with his cock against the sensitive skin of Justin’s perineum, just a hairsbreadth away from the point of no return. The ghost seemed just as caught up in the moment as Brian was - the blond’s kisses relentlessly pelting Brian’s face and neck while little mewls of random need escaped every few moments. It seemed inevitable where this was going to end up, not that Brian objected to that eventuality in the least.

Without breaking off the latest kiss, Brian reached out and blindly grappled around on the night stand until he found one of the always ready condoms waiting there. Justin seemed so far gone that Brian didn’t think the boy was likely to object to moving things to the next level. The way the kid was grappling at Brian’s skin, trying to pull the older man closer, and rutting against his stomach, it was only a matter of minutes before the youth shot his own load.

Before Brian could even tear open the package, though, he was startled by a series of loud noises emanating from downstairs - the distinct squealing of his front door opening and closing, followed by several loud clunking noises, and then an overly cheery voice hollering out ‘Good morning!’.

“What the . . .”

“Kinney? You upstairs? You left your door unlocked, you know!” Shanti’s bellowing easily made it up to the bedroom. “I got your new breaker box and some other supplies so, if you want your house wired today, get your shiny hiney down here and help me get it all unloaded.”

“Seriously? Now?” Brian complained, his head dropping despondently onto the blond’s chest. “What the hell is she doing here at the fucking crack of dawn anyway? She’s not supposed to be here until ten.”

“It’s not dawn. It’s,” Justin twerked his head to the side so he could see the clock on the bedside table, “almost nine-thirty. And she said she’d be here BY TEN, not at ten, so . . .”

“You’re not helping here, Ghost,” Brian whined, adding in a little whimper of distress that was completely undignified, but he was too pissed off to care.

“Kinney? You up there? Is everything okay?” This time the voice was closer and Brian could hear the tread of footsteps coming up the stairs.

“Fuck!”

Brian vaulted out of bed, pulled the sheets back up so that Justin was covered, and had enough time to turn towards the open bedroom doorway before the tall blonde electrician stomped in.

“Oh, hey. Good morning,” an unabashed Shanti greeted her naked and aroused employer. “You coming down or should I come back another day? I think I’ve got another opening sometime next week, if that’s better for you.”

“No. You are not fucking leaving me with my power barely functional for another week. I’ll be right down, okay?” Brian growled at the woman.

“No problem. I’ll get started unloading stuff,” Shanti replied, seeming equally unoffended by Brian’s sharp tone as she was with his nudity. “But I’d put on some pants before we get started if I were you. Electrical burns on your privates aren’t fun. Trust me on this one, Kinney,” she added before she turned and left a gaping Brian Kinney standing there with his mouth open.

“. . . fucking worst timing . . . going to kill Theodore for talking me into hiring her . . . need to support ‘Women in the Trades’ he said . . . fucking nosy bitch . . .” Brian muttered angrily to himself as he quickly pulled clothing out of drawers and dressed himself. Justin broke out in giggles at the incongruous sight of the big stud stomping around the room complaining about being interrupted by the mean lady contractor. “ . . . and you just lying there making it worse with your fucking adorable giggling . . . don’t think I don’t know you’re doing that on purpose, Ghost . . . so hard I can’t get my damned pants buttoned . . . probably going to give myself a heart attack stopping in the middle like that . . . Oh, fuck it all!”

Brian gave up trying to get his jeans buttoned. Instead, he marched back to the bed, kissed Justin’s unresisting lips one more time, and then stomped furiously out of the bedroom with his shirt on inside out, his fly unbuttoned - giving evidence that he clearly hadn’t bothered with underwear - and his hair standing on end every-which-way. Justin politely waited until Brian was all the way downstairs before he broke out in peals of gleeful laughter, not that Brian couldn’t hear him even then.

“Okay, we now have power again, along with a brand new breaker box and modern wiring almost everywhere throughout the house, except the master bedroom - I didn’t want to tear out the walls in there yet since it’s the only room still intact.” Brian announced as he exhaustedly flopped down in his chair at the kitchen table.

Brian didn’t know where his ghost had been hiding out all day, but he was grateful that the boy had reappeared along with a hot, just-cooked meal as soon as Brian had climbed tiredly out of the shower and managed to stumble downstairs. Brian was famished and dead tired. He didn’t think he would have been able to stay awake this long if he hadn’t needed food so badly. So, the fact that Justin had been waiting, with food ready, had meant a lot.

“So, how was your day, dear?” Brian asked facetiously as he accepted the plate heaped with lasagne from his homebody-haunt and added a large serving of the green salad that was also waiting on the table. “Did you get up to any fun, spooky adventures today?”

Justin smiled and huffed a little laugh then answered with a hesitant air, “I worked a little on your novel . . . I hope that’s okay?”

“You did, huh?” Brian

“Feel free to delete it, if you don’t like what I did. I just had an idea, you know, but it’s probably not very good . . .”

“You gonna let me actually read what you wrote before you have me deleting it all?” Brian asked in a teasing voice. “I’m sure it’s not that bad - you and I seem to write pretty well together, Ghost.”

Justin didn’t respond. His eyes were seemingly glued to his plate as he played with his food. Brian shook his head at the self-effacing young man, not liking the complete lack of confidence he saw there. Someone as bright and talented as Justin shouldn’t be constantly worried that what he did wasn’t good enough. Brian resolved to fix that situation, if he could, and find a way for his Ghost to get the recognition he needed. Maybe he should include the kid’s name as a co-author on the book they were writing? It wasn’t a bad idea, especially considering how much help the youth had been already.

“I’ll look at it tomorrow,” Brian committed as he turned his attention to his dinner for the time being. “I afraid I’m too bushed to do anything more strenuous than sitting on the couch tonight. I’m glad we got as much done as we did, though. Shanti was right about how bad the old wiring was. I’m surprised we hadn’t had a fire before yesterday. And I’m REALLY glad we were here and paying attention when the short that caused the fire happened. If we hadn’t got down there as fast as we did, the whole house would be toast today.”

Justin didn’t comment on the state of the wiring or Brian and Shanti’s work. He seemed to have lapsed into his usual state of passivity. And, while Brian wasn’t really in favor of overly-chatty dinner companions, he found the kid’s constant, sorrow-laced silence a little wearing. He much preferred the happy, playful, giggling ghost that he'd left in his bed that morning.

It was time to find out more about his resident ghost and exactly what was eating the kid. Maybe shake things up a bit. Figure out how to get him to come out of his shell permanently.

“By the way, while we were working on the breaker box, Shanti had to disconnect the electrical outlet in the crawl space,” Brian remarked, trying to casually segue into the topic he was aiming for even though he was dying to just spout out all his questions. “That outlet wasn’t wired correctly in the first place, she said, so it’s no wonder it shorted.” Still no response from his shy shade. “Even if you still had power, you wouldn’t be able to go back down there, though. It still stinks of smoke. You’ll have to stay upstairs with me for the time being. It's probably going to take weeks to air that space out.”

“But . . . I . . .”

“No butts, Ghost.”

“Maybe I could stay in Gus’ room?” Justin queried uncertainly.

“Sorry, I had to move the furniture out of there too,” Brian explained without letting on that it had been done intentionally. “I didn't want the bed to get ruined while I was tearing out the walls for the wiring.”

“I'll just stay on the couch, then, I guess . . .”

“Don't be ridiculous, Ghost,” Brian interrupted. “My bed is more than roomy enough for the both of us. We got along quite nicely there last night, right? And I promise not to bite . . . unless you ask me nicely.”

Brian ended by waggling his eyebrows and flashing his lewdest grin at the boy, who immediately looked away, pale cheeks flaming with a bright pink blush.

“. . . so fucking sweet . . .”

Brian realized he’d said the words out loud about half a second after they were out of his mouth, but it was too late to take them back. So, to cover, he quickly moved on to the real topic he’d meant to ask about. He just hoped his GhostBoy would forget the momentary lapse into total lesbianism.

“Speaking of the electrical outlet down in your lair, what’s up with that, anyway?”

“What do you mean,” Justin questioned, finally looking up at Brian again.

“The Pit of Despair?” Brian teased but hurried on before the boy had a chance to distract him with another blush or an equally adorable look of confusion. “There's not supposed to be anything down there. The blueprints show only a crawl space under the foundations. So where'd the hidden room come from?”

“Oh, well, my folks were planning on finishing the basement and making it into a rec room, you know. They dug out the crawl space so they could put in a bathroom and some additional storage. Only, after my mother died, my . . . um . . . m-my father never got around to finishing it.”

Brian's only response to that explanation was a noncommittal ‘hmmm’. Justin seemed agitated by his own statement, his eyes going unfocused as he stared off into space at some unseen past events. Brian leaned back in his chair, lifting his beer and sipping at it until he decided to just fuck it all and jump in with both feet.

“That doesn't explain why it is that you're living down there . . .” Justin dropped his fork, his head bowed and a frown deepening on his face. Brian continued. “It's not exactly the finest room in the house, is it? I mean, this is a pretty big place - there are four perfectly decent bedrooms upstairs plus the room I'm going to turn into a study on the main floor. I would've figured any one of those would be more comfortable than your dark little lair. Or do you prefer a dirt floor, no walls, no ceiling and no light?”

There was no answer from the silent GhostBoy.

“You're not going to give me any clue at all?” Brian pressed, even knowing he was unlikely to get an answer. “Okay, then, how about if I tell you what I think happened and you can just nod if I'm getting close? How does that sound?” The silent specter gave a hint of a shrug but didn't look up - Brian assumed that was the closest he'd get to consent, though, and simply hurried on. “Fine. So, I have three working theories, a couple of which might be slightly less likely than the other, but who knows, right? This is the kind of mystery that often comes with a twist or two . . .”

Still nothing from his ghost.

“Okaaaaay. So, theory number one - which I admit is a little out there - is that you're a vampire and you hide in the basement because you'd burn up in the daylight,” Brian offered with a chuckle as he noted the minute curling of his ghost’s lips in amusement. “I know. I know. I probably watched way too much television in the nineties, but you gotta admit it makes some sense - you have this crazy, pale skin, you only come out at night to rattle the pipes and walk around the house, and you've got those mesmerizing blue eyes that seem to make me say and do stupid shit. You could be compelling me against my will. I mean, it's possible, right?”

Brian paused with a silly shrug. Justin silently shook his head ‘no’ but let himself smile a little more. Brian chuckled again, glad to get at least that much of a response.

“Like I said, it was a long shot. So, then, theory number two - which is sorta related to theory number one but definitely less ‘Buffy’ and more ‘Bill Nye The Science Guy’ - is that you've got some kind of medical condition that prevents you from going outside. Maybe an allergy to the sun?” Another ‘no’. “Boy in the bubble kinda thing? You know, you can't come into contact with others for fear of contamination?” That got him a huff of laughter from the ghost along with another shake of the head. “Agoraphobia, maybe?” A shrug and a shake. “Damn. I was really hoping I was onto something there.”

The lighthearted banter seemed to have drawn Justin out again, at least a little bit. He was smiling now and not shrinking away from Brian. He seemed receptive to the topic, at least. Which was what Brian had been aiming for. Now, it was time to hit the kid with the big guns.

“Fine. Then that leaves only theory number three . . . That someone, your father maybe, forced you into that hole and made you live there?”

There was absolutely no response at all to this assertion. Justin appeared to freeze, his fork hovering in mid air, halfway between his plate and his mouth. The only sign that the boy had even heard Brian's last theory was the way his eyes sprung open as wide as they could possibly go.

“But, if that were the case,” Brian resumed his narrative, "there's one thing that doesn't make any sense to me. Your father's been dead for months. So why haven't you come out of hiding before now? . . . And why are all the locks on the inside of the crawl space door rather than the outside? It's as if you were locking other people out rather than being locked inside yourself.”

Brian paused there, waiting to see if that little bombshell would get any response. However, the only reaction he got was Justin pushing away his plate, folding his hands in his lap, and sitting there as if waiting for judgment of some kind to be pronounced upon him. Brian couldn't tell if it were submissiveness or just plain old-fashioned stubbornness. He wasn’t going to back down though - not when he felt he was on the verge of getting some answers.

“Why, Justin? Why are you hiding yourself away like this? The neighbors say you went missing almost three years ago. Have you been in that disgusting hole all this time? Why? And why didn't you come out of hiding when your asshole father finally did everyone a favor and blew his fucking brains out? I don't understand. Tell me. Why didn't you come out then?”

Calmly, determinedly, and without any fanfare at all, as if the conclusion was already set in stone and immutable, Justin looked up and finally met Brian's eyes. “I can't come out. I . . . I did something really bad. I don't deserve to come out. Ever.”

With the same air of resignation, the boy got up from the table, took his plate over to the sink, quickly rinsed it off, and put it into the dishwasher. He turned around, looking at Brian wistfully for a half a second, then sighed and headed out the door towards the living room without another word.

“Well, that’s one way to cut short an uncomfortable conversation,” Brian mumbled, getting to his own feet so he could stop the fleeing ghost.

Justin was already halfway to the basement stairs before Brian caught up to him, grabbing the youth’s shoulder and halting his next step.

“Justin, stop. I don’t care,” Brian blurted out. “Whatever it is you did - or THINK you did - I don’t care. It doesn’t matter to me. You don’t need to hide from me.”

Justin didn’t look around at first. His body remained stiff under Brian’s hand. You could see the tension and indecision in the way the young man’s muscles clenched under the skin. You could almost hear the war of words in his head as he fought against the desire to trust this man who was offering him an unexpected safety net. Brian could tell that his ghost didn’t trust easily. He suspected that the kid had had his ability to trust beaten out of him - much like Brian himself had. But Brian stood firm. He wasn’t going to give up on his little ghost.

And somehow that determination must have gotten through.

Little by little, the stiffness in those shoulders melted away.

“Come on, Ghost,” Brian coaxed, tugging a little to get the boy to turn away from the stairs and come back with him to the kitchen again. “Let’s try out that horribly fattening oreo cookie pie that Penny sent over a couple of days ago.” Justin looked at him as if he didn’t recognize the man standing next to him. “Hey, I worked my tushy off today. I deserve some pie, right?” The ghost remained skeptical. “I’m allowed the occasional dessert, you know.”

The boy still hesitated, but Brian was unrelenting. He wasn’t going to let Justin disappear back into that hole ever again. Not if there was any way he could stop the kid.

“Justin. Come eat some some damn pie. I don’t want it going to waste. You know I can only eat one piece and that’s a big fucking pie, so you’re going to have to step up and help me. And, if you help me get rid of it, I promise not to complain even once about eating carbs this late in the day.”

The temptation of the gooey, sugar-laden, chocolate and cream dessert was too much for the boy’s already faltering willpower. Without further complaint, the little ghost let Brian lead him back to the kitchen and seat him at the table before he served up two slices of the disgustingly sweet concoction. Of course Brian’s slice was barely an inch wide, while Justin’s slice was basically a whole quarter of the pie, which made Justin smile again for the first time since Brian had ventured into his dangerous dinner discussion. But Brian figured it had been worth it. He’d ferreted out another couple of kernels of information about his mysterious blond ghost and maybe broken through a few more of the boy’s walls.

The sacrifice of having to eat a slice of oreo cookie pie was probably worth it.