Chapter 47 - Perfidia.

WHERE THE FUCK WAS JUSTIN?

By Thursday morning Brian was feeling frantic. He didn’t know where Justin was and, apparently, neither did anyone else. If he didn’t find him soon, Brian felt like he was going to go crazy.

When the time-travelling pilot hadn’t shown up Wednesday morning for what had become their regular morning wake up call fuck, Brian had been a little miffed but not overly worried. Justin had warned him that the squadron had been flying some longer missions the past week, and it was understandable that Justin might have been too tired or too delayed to get to Brian in 2016 at his usual time. Brian figured the boy would show up later in the day; Justin knew they had to finish up the preliminary boards for the Prague client by Friday, and he had said he had some ideas for the new print ad layout, so Brian was confident he’d be along eventually. But when Justin still hadn’t appeared by lunchtime, Brian had definitely started to worry.

By five o’clock he’d been pounding down the sidewalk on his way to The White Lion. Daphne, though, said she hadn’t seen her Sunshine since the evening before when he’d stopped in on his way to the base, as usual. Unfortunately, with Curly gone, there wasn’t anyone else left in their little group that might know what had happened on that mission. Brian had seen a few other RAF uniforms in the pub on occasion but didn’t know any of them well and, even if he had, he didn’t see any of them in the bar that evening. So there was nothing he could do but sit and stew and drink warm beer after warm beer until it was well past the time Justin would have been there if he’d been coming.

Brian had slept in 1941 that night - well, he’d paced around the room in 1941, at least, seeing as he was too worried to sleep - but there was still no word from Justin by the time dawn bloomed the next day. He popped back into 2016 long enough to tell Cynthia what was happening and rearrange his schedule for the day, and then he was back in 1941 again. Daphne was feeling just as unsettled as Brian by that point, but despite having asked around among a few of Justin’s buddies, she hadn’t managed to unearth any substantive news. All they had discovered so far was that there had been an important mission on Tuesday night with no more than the ‘usual losses’.

“Fuck this,” Brian finally lost all patience.

Grabbing Daphne by the wrist, he towed her out from behind the bar and started towards the door.

“Oi, where we goin’, ‘Andsome?” Daph asked, slightly amused by his high-handed ways but following him nonetheless.

“The Palace. To use their telephone,” Brian insisted.

“An’ yer can’t use a telephone by yerself?”

“I could, but how am I going to explain who I am and why I’m calling about Justin?” Brian questioned, getting an understanding nod from Daphne. “You, on the other hand, can pretend to be his ‘very special friend’ without anyone batting an eye.”

Ten minutes later they were standing in the lobby of The Palace while Daphne tried and tried to get some information for them. It seemed to take forever, with Daphne repeating over and over again that she was Justin’s ‘very special friend’ and pretending to cry whenever she was told that the RAF would only release information to family, before they finally got through to someone that would talk to them. And even then they had to wait on the line seemingly forever, with Brian pacing around behind Daphne like a caged lion while the minutes ticked by.

But the second that Daphne sat up straight and muttered a quiet “Oh . . . where?” Brian knew that it wasn’t good news. She hung up a moment later, looked in Brian’s direction and frowned. ‘E ‘ad to ditch ‘is plane an’ ‘e’s in ‘ospital,” she explained tersely.

Brian felt like someone had stabbed him in the gut with an ice cold saber. The entire world around him seemed to fade to a hazy grey and even the noise of the hotel staff going about their business in the background became hushed and distant. He wasn’t really sure what happened in what order after that. Time seemed to be jumping around doing crazy things. Thankfully, Daphne seemed able to take charge.

Brian vaguely noted when they got into a car that the hotel provided for them and then, later, when they arrived at a large, nondescript building that must have been the hospital. There were more questions from the hospital staff and Daphne pleading with several different people to be allowed in to see their patient. Finally, what felt like hours later, Daphne took Brian by the hand and led him in the wake of a starched-white nurse down a long hallway and in through the doors of a crowded recovery ward.

Brian homed in on the bed with his Blue Eyes the second he’d stepped through the door. Justin was lying in the second to last bed on the left-hand side, a swathe of bandages around his head, seemingly asleep. Brian would have run to him, but his knees felt like they might give out on him if he tried to move even one step. However, with Daphne’s steadying hand on his arm, Brian was eventually led across the room and deposited in a chair beside the sleeping man’s bedside.

“‘Ow is ‘e?” Daphne asked the nurse that had escorted them to the room.

“‘E’s had a rough time of it, alright,” the woman answered. “Gave ‘is ‘ead a right wallop ‘e did an’ swallowed a lot o’ seawater too. But other than that, an’ more than a few bumps and bruises, I think ‘e’ll be alright.”

It wasn’t until the nurse had left, allowing Brian to surreptitiously reach out and take Justin’s warm hand in his own, that the panic started to subside a little. If only they hadn’t been surrounded by at least six other men, in various medical conditions of their own, Brian would have loved nothing more than to have kissed those pale, chapped lips like some stupid Prince Charming in a fucking fairy tale. He wasn’t going to be truly reassured until he saw his princess’ blue eyes open and smiling at him again.

“Get your filthy hands off him!”

Brian was so intent on Justin’s face he barely even heard the words being yelled at him from the doorway of the hospital ward. He did notice, though, when two strong hands grabbed hold of his shoulders and physically wrenched him away from the side of Justin’s bed, throwing him down on his ass on the tiled floor in the middle of the aisle. When he looked up, a panting, furious, Chris Hobbs was standing there, looming over him, glaring at him as if Brian was some kind of monster.

“He doesn’t need the likes of you and your perverted ways messing with him,” Hobbs ordered. “Get the hell out of here before I call an orderly and have you thrown out on your ass.”

The hazy grey that had been obscuring Brian’s vision up to that point now changed to a hazy red as Brian vaulted back to his feet and charged at the man trying to keep him away from Justin. He had one hand clenched around Hobbs’ neck and was holding back the fist that the airman was trying to throw at him with the other. Hobbs might have been a few inches shorter than Brian, but he was stocky and powerful and put up a pretty good fight, almost getting free as they tussled, knocking over a chair and bumping up against a tray with a metallic clatter.

Things might have become even more harried if one quiet, unsteady voice speaking up from behind them hadn’t immediately penetrated Brian’s blind fury, “Brian?”

Brian dropped his hold on Hobbs, spun around and, with two strides, was back at Justin’s bed. “I’m here, Blue Eyes.”

Justin coughed weakly and pointed to a waiting glass of water on the bedside table. Daphne rushed to hand it to him, and Brian helped to lift Justin’s head so the patient could sip at it. “You’d think after all the water I swallowed I wouldn’t want to touch a drop ever again, but apparently, almost drowning makes you thirsty,” Justin commented, adding an attempt at a smile for his visitors’ benefit.

“Damn it, Justin, what the fuck have you done to yourself this time?” Brian asked as he helped settle Justin back on his pillows.

“It looks worse than it is,” Justin rasped in a very weak voice.

“Don’t you know that repeated head injuries - twice now in less than six fucking weeks - are really dangerous?” Brian complained as he tenderly pushed a loose strand of hair back off the side of Justin’s face. “How the hell did you hurt it this time, Blue Eyes?”

“I don’t remember. Maybe hit it on the canopy of the plane as I punched out? Or maybe it was just from hitting the water? You know, contrary to popular belief, water is really, really hard . . . especially if you hit it when you’re falling out of a plane at high velocity.” Justin tried to laugh but it turned into another bout of coughing.

“That’s enough. He needs to rest, not waste his strength reassuring you lot,” Hobbs interjected, trying to insert himself bodily between Brian and the bed. “You need to get the hell out of here and don’t bother coming back. Taylor doesn’t need you messing with his head . . . or any other part of him for that matter, Nancy Boy.”

“Oi! Watch yer mouth, Mister!” Daphne intervened. “An’ who the ‘eck do yer think yous are to tell us to get out? We got as much right ter be ‘ere as anybody. If anyone needs ter leave our Sunshine alone, it oughta be yer.”

“Taylor saved my life the other night - he refused to leave me behind and even took fire for me - so I’m not leaving him. And I’m not letting some nasty old pervert like HIM,” Hobbs pointed accusingly towards Brian, “paw at Taylor while he can’t defend himself.”

“Hobbs,” Justin interrupted, his hoarse voice somehow getting everyone’s attention instantly, “if you don’t back off you’re going to make me sorry I DIDN’T leave your worthless behind back in Poland.” Hobbs looked down at his shoes. “I’m perfectly fine and I WANT Brian and Daphne here with me, okay? You don’t have to stay any longer. I’m sure you have something much better to do than haunting the hospital, right? You should go home and get some sleep so you can fly tonight.”

“I really don’t mind staying,” Hobbs replied sheepishly, looking down on Justin with an expression that Brian didn’t care for in the least.

“Go home, Hobbs. That’s an order - do me a favor and follow directions for once, please,” Justin asserted, his tone only partially joking.

“Fine. But I’ll be back to check on you before the mission,” Hobbs promised, backing away from the bed reluctantly and giving Brian one last, intimidating look before he left.

Justin shook his head at Hobbs’ retreating back and then winced as the motion apparently caused him pain. “He’s been hovering around here all day and it’s driving me nuts. I tried to get him to go call you, Daph, but he just wouldn’t leave. Next time he acts like an idiot and almost gets himself shot to heck, I might just leave him to get on with it.” Justin looked up at Brian with a smile. “I’m glad you figured out where I was and came to save me from him. He’s been acting a little . . . creepy. I mean, there's only so many times someone can fluff your pillow before it starts to get awkward.”

“That the bloke what yer told me ‘bout at the Squadron Ball?” Daphne asked and Brian nodded. “If yer ask me, I think ‘e’s sweet on yer, Sunshine.”

“Heaven help us if that’s the case,” Justin laughed and then groaned in pain. “Applesauce! Every single part of me hurts.”

“What the fuck happened, Justin? Why were you putting yourself at risk for a closet case like Hobbs anyway?” Brian demanded angrily.

“Long story that I don’t want to get into now,” Justin responded as his eyes fluttered closed again. “I think I need to . . .”

And before he could even finish his sentence, Justin had drifted off to sleep again. Luckily, Brian remembered what the doctor had said when this had happened before - that concussion patients might nod off frequently and that it wasn’t necessarily a bad sign. It didn’t mean that Brian didn’t continue to worry as he waited next to Justin’s bed for the rest of the day and well into the evening. Daphne had eventually left so she could get back and open the pub, but Brian refused to budge. The patient woke up, off and on, complaining about his throbbing headache and the fact that even sitting up made him feel sick to his stomach. Justin wasn’t in much of a mood to talk, but that was fine with Brian. Brian was content to simply sit there quietly and enjoy the fact that his boyfriend was still alive.

Even Brian was starting to nod off by the time the sun began to set, so it startled him a little to hear Justin’s voice, breaking into the silence without preamble. “It was bad, Brian . . . The water . . . it was so cold . . . I must have blacked out for a while when I first hit, and when I woke up I couldn’t get the straps from the chute to unbuckle because my fingers were completely numb. All that heavy fabric kept pulling me down under the waves. But I kept telling myself that I had to stay awake; I couldn’t lose myself to the cold . . . The water was hitting my face and there was nothing I could do to stop myself from taking it in; I think I must have swallowed half of the North Sea . . .”

Brian wiped away a tear that had escaped the corner of Justin’s eye but didn’t say anything to interrupt.

“If it hadn’t been for that shipping convoy that saw me go down and came to get me, I . . . I wouldn’t have made it . . . The whole time, though, all I could think about was how I wanted to get back to you. How I NEEDED to get back to you. That if something happened to me, you’d be so hurt. That Gus would be hurt too. And I didn’t want to leave you like that, Brian. I could never do that. I just . . . I can’t . . .” Brian clasped the hand he was holding as tightly as he could, unable to find any words that might help in the circumstances. “I don’t . . . I don’t want to die like that, Brian. Drowning . . .” Justin heaved a huge, sad, sigh. “I don’t want to die at all, you know, but . . . not like that.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Blue Eyes?” Brian couldn’t help but sound hopeful as he listened to Justin‘s conclusion.

Justin shook his head gently. “I don’t know what I’m saying, Brian. All I do know is, I got a taste of what’s going to happen to me . . . And I don’t want it. I can’t go like that, Brian. I just can’t.”

“You don’t have to, Blue Eyes,” Brian promised. “Just say you'll come stay with me.”

Justin paused, searching Brian’s eyes as if to discern whether he could trust the surety he saw there. Then, after such a long wait Brian almost despaired, Justin nodded his agreement. Brian couldn’t hold back the gleeful smile that erupted across his countenance. He was so relieved and happy. And he secretly thanked providence for Justin’s timely crash - hating himself for that sentiment at the same time - since it seemed to have been the catalyst he’d been hoping for.

“But, if I do this . . .” Justin sounded so sad, it gave Brian’s celebration pause. “If I do this, there’s no going back for me, Brian. If I leave with you . . .” Justin lowered his voice so that no one else in the room could possibly overhear. “Desertion in wartime is punishable by death.” Brian squeezed Justin’s hand in understanding; he’d already thought of that himself. “So, once I leave with you, I can’t ever come back here. Never . . .”

“It’ll be okay, Justin.” Brian wished there was some other reassurance he could give, some promise that he could make, but knew that the future was always a mystery, even for time travelers. All he could really offer was the hope he himself held onto. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

“Okay. You've got a deal . . . And me, for as long as you can stand me,” Justin joked, laughing a little until the coughing started again.

“I’ve already started Cynthia working on getting you modern ID and whatever other paperwork you’ll need to get around and eventually travel home to the states with me. I’ll have HR officially put you on payroll starting Monday. You don’t have to work with me forever, of course, but at least that way you’ll have some income for the time being while you figure out what you really want . . .” Brian was already barreling ahead, planning Justin’s life and controlling everything the way he was so used to doing, until he realized his subject was silently chuckling at him.

“Before we launch my new career as an artist, Handsome, I need your help with a few other things,” Justin started, looking up at Brian with an apologetic glance. “I want to make sure Daphne and my mom are taken care of after I’m . . . gone. I don’t want either of them to ever need anything, with me not being there to help. So, if it’s okay with you, I thought I could leave them both some money? I’ll pay you back for whatever it costs . . .”

“I think that’s a great idea, Blue Eyes. But you don’t have to pay me back.”

“No, Brian. I do. I can’t just mooch off you forever. That’s not me. I’ll pay my way. And if you can help me out with this I WILL pay you back.”

“Fine. Stubborn brat . . .” Brian grumbled with a teasing smile. “Instead of just leaving them money though, I have a couple of ideas.”

And for the next hour, until the nurse kicked Brian out for the night, they put their heads together and planned out Justin’s disappearance.

Justin was released from hospital two days later and given an additional two days’ leave, but told they were so short handed he’d have to report back for duty by the 28th. Brian railed against that stricture, complaining that Justin shouldn’t be flying again after a second concussion. Justin eventually talked him down though, reassuring his man that he’d be fine - experience had already proven that he was unstoppable, at least until July 10th. He’d also pointed out that he couldn’t refuse an order and risk discipline until their plans were finished; if he got thrown in the brig, they couldn’t be sure he’d escape before the fateful day. Brian was forced to concede the point, albeit with extremely poor grace, but made Justin promise he would NOT play the hero again or take any other stupid risks.

So Justin returned to 2016 with Brian for the rest of his short recovery leave, while they plotted and planned. Cynthia was brought up to speed on the situation and enthusiastically welcomed Justin to the future. She advised that she’d found a contact - she refused to say how she’d found him - that promised he could produce a birth certificate, driver's license and passport that even Homeland Security would accept as legitimate. Brian didn’t even bat an eye at the astronomical price the guy was asking, although Justin was staggered by it to the point he almost backed out of their agreement.

By contrast, the amounts needed in 1941 funds to establish a respectable trust fund for Jennifer and Molly and to purchase the deed to the White Lion for Daphne, were a relative bargain. When Brian laughed off those amounts altogether, finally confessing that his 1941 money was all counterfeit to start with, Justin balked again, feeling that it was somehow wrong to taint his gifts to his family and Daphne with that stigma. Brian’s practicality won out again, though, when he explained that the deception wasn’t hurting anyone and even if it was discovered, which was unlikely, there was nothing anyone could do about it after Justin and Brian had left 1941. Not to mention the fact that, since they’d seen with their own eyes that neither Daphne’s family or Justin’s family seemed to have suffered any negative consequences in their futures, it followed that Brian’s funny money probably hadn’t been discovered. Accordingly, Brian retained a Solicitor recommended by the concierge at The Palace and set the gentleman on the path to finalize their 1941 plans with all possible haste.

After they got all those plans rolling, however, there really wasn’t much for Justin to do. He mostly just laid around in Brian’s hotel room during the day and sketched or played on his lightbox. Er, tablet - Brian said it was called a ‘tablet’ and Justin was going to have to learn to call things by their right names if he was staying here now, although he suspected Brian found it ‘cute’ when he called it that. Justin also finished up the artwork for the Prague client, putting in extra effort now that he knew this was going to be his actual job.

It felt so strange to think that, though. He’d been focused for so long on an entirely different life path and now, in the course of just a couple months after meeting Brian, he was changing everything. Sometimes he worried he was making a huge mistake, that he’d never really fit in here, that he had to have been crazy to ever think he could simply jump forward a century and somehow make a real life . . . And then he’d see Brian smiling at him with that expectant, protective, possessive smile the man would get when he thought nobody could see him, and it would all make sense again. Justin knew he couldn’t live without Brian and, since he was one hundred percent sure he didn’t want to die either, he would just have to make this thing work.

Somehow.

In a way, it was almost a relief when his time off was over and Justin had to report back to active duty again. He was a little leery the first time he got back in a plane, but it didn’t take long for him to get the feel of it again. Flying was in his blood. And even though he was heading off into a completely new life, Justin knew he’d eventually take Brian up on the offer to get his 2016 pilot's license.

Luckily, his first mission back ended up being pretty routine. The German invasion of Russia had started earlier in the week and the Luftwaffe we’re focusing all their energies on the Eastern front, so there was very little resistance put up against the British flyers. As long as they avoided the anti-aircraft guns on the ground, the Eagle Squadron could fly their escort run alongside the British bombers, hitting deep in Germany and northern Poland, and then turn and fly home without too many casualties. Nevertheless, Justin kept his word to Brian and flew as carefully as he possibly could under the circumstances.

When Justin wasn’t flying or working with Brian on various ad campaigns, he spent as much time as he could with Daphne and his friends at the White Lion. Walking away from these guys without a word was probably going to be the hardest part of the entire plan as far as Justin was concerned. He thought about confessing everything to Daphne and letting her in on the plan at least a hundred times. It would’ve been so refreshing to have someone to talk with about all this - someone other than Brian and Cynthia, that is. He knew Daphne would have helped him work through some of his fears and insecurities, and she’d probably even forgive him for abandoning her . . . eventually. But every time he started to confess, he found he couldn’t bear to admit his cowardice aloud, and the words would die unspoken in his throat. The Blitz might be mostly over, but he knew the war itself would drag on for another four years and Daphne, along with the rest of Britain, still had a lot of suffering ahead of them. So how, exactly, could he justify the fact that he was going to selfishly run away from it all? No, he simply couldn’t do it. He’d rather Daphne and the rest think well of him for as long as possible. And in the meantime he’d spend as much time with them as possible, enjoying their company and saving up as many memories as he could.

Justin crept into the hotel room about an hour after sunrise, smiling as he gazed down upon a slumbering Brian.

The older man looked so serene and peaceful like this. Justin loved just looking at him sometimes. In sleep, Brian lost all his bristly, gruffness and turned into just a sweet, dreamy boy. It was in these moments that Justin could see the closest resemblance between the father and his son, Gus. The only problem was that, when he saw Brian all content and warm and sleepy like that, it made Justin want the man even more than usual, and he could rarely stop himself from pouncing. But, since Brian rarely minded a good pouncing, it usually worked out.

Quickly pulling off his dirty uniform, Justin slipped under the covers and squirmed around till he was touching Brian, curled all along the taller man’s side. Brian’s lips almost instantly turned up at the corners, the smile starting before his lover was even all the way awake. Justin couldn’t resist kissing that smile - the smile that was all his and that nobody else ever got to see, he suspected - until Brian’s arms woke up too and came around him in a welcoming hug.

“Mmmmm. Morning, Blue Eyes. Welcome home,” Brian mumbled through the kissing. Then he stopped and sniffed at Justin’s hair, his nose turning up in the most adorable fashion. “You smell all . . . oily.”

“Yeah, broken fuel line on my plane. It was a mess.” Brian started to protest, but Justin stopped him by placing a finger across his lips. “I was safe. I turned back right away; before we were even halfway to the night’s target.”

Brian grunted approvingly and went back to his kissing for a couple more minutes until he obviously decided to move things along and rolled them both over. They hadn’t progressed much beyond the petting and fondling stage, though, before Brian’s little pocket lightbox - er, phone - alarm started beeping at them. Brian only paused with his fondling long enough to reach out, pick up the phone and tap at the screen to turn the noise off. He must have noticed the time in the process.

“If you didn’t even fly a full mission, why are you so late getting back this morning?” Brian asked.

“I stuck around to talk with the mechanics working on the plane for a bit. I figure, if I’m going to take up your charity idea, I better learn as much as I can about fixing broken old planes, right?”

Brian smiled and nodded before kissing him again, this time with even more approval than before. “Fixing planes I approve of. It’s much safer than you flying in them,” Brian stated authoritatively.

“Maybe. But loitering around in the hangar certainly isn’t,” Justin joked, which caused Brian to pull back from his kissing with a questioning look. “It’s nothing - just Hobbs still acting a little . . . strange.” Then, to counter the worried look that came over Brian’s face, Justin hurried on with an explanation. “Ever since my crash he’s been sorta following me around a lot of the time. He keeps offering to help me with stuff and trying to make conversation and . . . well, just acting very un-Hobbs-like, you know? It’s starting to make me feel really uncomfortable. And then last night, as soon as he got back from the mission, he ran up to me and actually hugged me, asking if I was okay and all. I eventually got him to leave me alone, but he was still hovering in the hangar and watching me so . . . So, I sorta hid out in the supply room until I was sure he left . . . Stupid, I know - I shouldn’t have to hide from another pilot, but I just didn’t feel like confronting him right then . . .”

“It’s not stupid. That guy is a fucking psychopath, if you ask me. I’m all in favor of you steering clear of him,” Brian agreed instantly. “Good thing you won’t have to deal with him for much longer. I talked to the lawyer yesterday and he said the trust for your mom and sister is pretty much done - he’ll have the papers for you to sign in a couple days - and he’s working on the thing for Daphne but there’s some hold up about the title to the property. He thinks he should be able to clear it up before the 10th but we may be cutting it close.”

Justin sighed at that news. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about all this. On one hand, he was happy that the plan was coming along so well and that his family and friend would be taken care of. But, on the other, he was still so unsettled about his decision. His absolutely huge, gargantuan, massive, decision.

“Brian . . . are you sure about this?” Justin asked, unable to keep his thoughts to himself this time. “I mean, it’s not too late to change your mind if . . .”

“If what?” Brian asked, a tinge of anger in his voice. “If I don’t mind the idea of you dying?”

“No,” Justin cut him off. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t want to die like that - I’m pretty clear on that point, thank you very much. It’s only that . . .” He paused to collect his thoughts, trying to voice the thing that kept worrying him even after everything else had been resolved. “If we go through with this plan, and I stay here with you . . . well, it’s forever, Brian. I probably can’t ever go back there; not unless I want to be arrested and thrown in jail as a deserter and disgraced and . . . well, I’m not going back to that. So, I have to know that you’re ready for this. For forever. Because it wasn’t that long ago that you were upset by the mere use of the word ‘boyfriend’ and bragging about your dalliances with the janitor . . .”

“Stop, Blue Eyes.” This time it was Brian who put his finger on Justin’s lips to hush him. “I told you already that I WANT this. I want you. And I’m ready for ‘forever’.” That brought a real smile to Justin’s lips finally; which was dashed a second later when Brian continued. “You’re the one I’m worried about, Justin. You’re the one that’s too young to commit to something like forever, if you ask me. I mean, how can you be sure I’m the one? You haven’t been with anyone else . . . Are YOU sure you’re ready, Blue Eyes?”

Justin looked up into Brian’s face, noting that, for once, all the man’s walls were down. Brian was waiting for Justin’s answer, looking scared and vulnerable, his usual bravado and self-confidence nowhere to be seen. That alone - the fact that Brian was willing to open himself up that much for Justin - was enough to convince him that, yes, he was ready for forever with this amazing man.

“I’m ready, Handsome,” Justin reassured him with as much feeling as he could muster in his voice. “I’m ready to kiss you forever,” he said, demonstrating the sentiment with a long, deep, wet kiss. “I’m ready to touch you forever,” he added, running his hands down Brian’s strong back all the way down to the man’s beautifully shaped bottom. “And I’m certainly ready to make love to you . . . forever.”

Which is what they did . . . well, for at least the next hour or so before they were both finally sated and ready to carry on with the rest of their lives.