14.

Brian lay under the blue lights of his bed and slowly rolled the gold ring between his fingers; three a.m. – it had become their time.  The time that Justin always woke from a nightmare; sometimes Brian had been able to soothe him with nothing more than a stroke of his palm along Justin’s flank.  Other times it had taken soft sounds as his boy tried to hide his tears in Brian’s chest.  And then there were the times that only slow, sensual sex had soothed the nightmares away.  But unfailingly, it was always at three a.m.

Brian peered at the small gold ring, twisting it so that it glinted under the blue lights.  He’d taken to carrying it in his pocket; it made him feel like he had handed his masculinity over along with his balls, but at the same time, it made him feel better to have something tangible of Justin’s.  It was proof that his boy had once wanted nothing more than to experience everything that life with Brian had had to offer.

“I didn’t want to fucking die, Brian!  I just wanted to stop feeling like I was going too!”

Brian squeezed his eyes shut when the memory of what Justin had said to him that afternoon flittered through his mind.  When he eventually died, and he stood before whatever it was that guarded the gates, Brian was one hundred percent certain that the being would ask him, how he could have been so oblivious to just how badly Justin had been hurting?  How had he missed it?  How had he fucked up so completely?

Justin was the epitome of life, of joy, and love, with an infectious enthusiasm.  He went through life at a hundred miles per hour; when had that stopped?  When had he wanted to stop feeling, and started to consider death as an option?  Had it been after Chris Hobbs had all but killed him?  After he had come home from the hospital, and was too scared to walk down the street on his own?  Was it finding his lover fucking the zucchini man that had caused it?  Had it happened when he had pissed all over his art, and in turn, all over the pain he had been experiencing?  Or was it when he thought that Brian had abandoned him?

“You left me long before I walked out of Babylon…  You left me over a year ago… While I needed you like I will never allow myself to need anyone again…”

Christ.  Brian dragged his hand down over his face.  Life didn’t offer do-overs, but what he wouldn’t give to replay that moment in time.  To replay so many moments of their fucked up little relationship.  To have ignored Jennifer’s anger, and stayed beside the boy.  But he hadn’t; Justin was right.  He’d waited long enough to hear that Justin would live, and then his guilt had driven him out of the hospital and into a marathon session of fucking, drinking and drugs.  He knew that Justin didn’t blame him for what had happened the night of his prom, but for weeks after Justin got out of the hospital, Brian felt that guilt burn every time Justin woke up from a nightmare.    

It had taken a conversation in the dark for Brian to let some of that guilt go; Justin’s voice had been thick with tears that night, as he fought the residual aftershocks of his nightmare.  And under the blue lights, Justin had said that if Brian hadn’t been there, Chris would have probably kept swinging.  Brian had nearly vomited at the thought; but then Justin said that although he didn’t remember the prom, he would forever ignore that in favor of Brian undoubtedly saving his life.

Brian had never thought about it like that; every time he thought about that night, he saw the initial swing of the bat, and shut the memories down before they could play out.  But with Justin’s words echoing in the dark, Brian had thought back for the first time.  He saw the initial swing.  Saw the bat connect with Justin’s head and send him to the ground.  And as he dared to think about it all, he saw Chris Hobbs begin to raise the bat again as Brian screamed out a one-word warning; one that was seconds too late. 

That scream had caused Chris to spin around after he swung the bat so violently, and he had blanched when he saw Brian running towards them.  The coward had turned tail and run, only to have Brian break his knee when he caught up to him.  But in replaying that scene in mind, he was forced to come to the realization that Justin was probably right – Chris would have hit him again if Brian hadn’t been there.  But that was one of the last times Brian had been present when Justin had really needed him.

Oh, Justin had needed his help; help that Brian had offered.  A place to live.  A way to pay his tuition, after his father refused to support a son with an ‘abhorrent, depraved’ lifestyle.  Help learning to be around crowds again and able to walk along the streets of Pittsburgh on his own.  Help to be touched again, without shrinking into himself as his fear skated along his skin.  Those things Brian had known about and supplied.  But when it had truly mattered?  He hadn’t been there.

Not while Justin was in the hospital and suffered through weeks of physical therapy that would result in tears and rage when he was unable to make his hand work the way it once had done.  Not when the Sap had tried to get Justin into that swing, and his boy had almost OD’d as he ran through the streets of Pittsburgh half-naked.  Not when he finally gave up and wanted to stop feeling like he was going to die.  Not when he washed those sleeping pills down with Brian’s drink of choice, and then lay back in the bath and closed his eyes in defeat.

Aside from the three-day bender he had gone on after Daphne had torn his balls off, Brian hadn’t touched a drop of Beam since seeing Justin all those weeks ago in Boytoy; the one time he had, the taste of it on his tongue had caused his stomach to curdle.  Since then, he stuck with beer when he went to Woody’s; he stuck to smoking pot when he wanted to relax.  And in doing so, he had finally found his own footing instead of relying on alcohol and drugs to numb the pain he felt.   

For the first time in his life he was having to face the problems he had, instead of running from them.  He was having to remember the things that he had said and done that had driven Justin out of his life.  Brian had only been partially honest when he had told Alex that Justin had left him because he had told him  he wouldn’t care if he was gone.  No, Brian knew that Justin had also left because he had continually shoved his tricking in the boy’s face.  Because it had amused him to see Justin try to hide how much it had hurt him.

The epiphany that he had had when he’d thought their relationship was over had hit him like a ton of bricks; he’d been trying so hard to avoid turning into his father that he had thought if he denied how he felt, ignored what he wanted, and kept Justin at arm’s length, then he would be safe.  But when his father had died, and he had swung the old man’s bowling ball down that steep incline, instead of feeling liberated – finally – from the asshole’s tight grip, instead he had felt like he was somehow morphing into a replication of him.  Realistic or not, fair or not; that was the way he had imagined himself.  That had been the final swing of the hammer that had been needed to smash the pedestal he had once stood on and had been idolized from into a smoking heap of rubble.

The man who emerged from the smoke had wanted nothing more than to curl up in a fetal position and cry.  Alex was right; he’d had it all in Justin.  A young man who was not only physically beautiful to look at, but who matched him seamlessly.  Maybe that was God’s punishment – ‘here, I made you the perfect man as an apology for the shit childhood you were dealt with.  But guess what?  You’ll only learn that he’s perfect for you after you throw him away.’  Fucker.

And he had been flawless; yes, he was pretty to look at, but it was everything else that made him ideal for Brian.  His sense of humor.  The way his brain worked, as he analyzed all angles of the problem he was working out.  The driving need he had to succeed in life, and with his art.  The way he loved so unashamedly.  Brian had once told him that he wanted to turn him into the very best homosexual he could be – Justin had surpassed that occasion when he was seventeen and had decided to go after what he wanted. 

From the very first night that he had bought Justin home, he had shown very little fear; oh, he’d been scared the first time, as he lay spread out beneath Brian like a buffet.  Fear of the unknown; would it hurt?  Would he like it?  And after that first time, it had been, ‘oh God, more, more, more.’  Justin had been insatiable after that; even though the words had been designed to hurt him, Brian had been completely honest when he had told Justin that he loved cock.

“You love it down your throat.  You love it up your ass.  You love riding it.  And after you cum, you love to fall asleep with it still inside you.”

It was the absolute truth; Brian had never met anyone with an appetite for sex like Justin’s.  Brian had only had to look at him, and Justin would be grinning as he crossed the loft, leaving a trail of clothes in his wake.  A wiggle of that luscious ass, and he would be climbing into Brian’s lap and damn near blowing the top of his head off by the time Justin finished sucking his cock or riding him for all he was worth.  Whether it was hard and fast, or slow and heated, every time they came together got better than the time before it; perfection.

Hindsight – she was an utter fucking bitch.  Brian was so scared that sex with one person would become stale.  Boring.  Predictable.  A fate better left to the hetero-morons of the world.  It was his right as a gay man to sample sex in every form.  Shifting on the bed slightly, Brian licked his lips as his cock twitched in his pants.  He’d fucked hundreds of men over the years; there had been the less than memorable men, and men that had made him consider going back for seconds and thirds. 

But Justin was the best he had ever had; even during those first few months, when Brian had had to guide his hips with a firm hand, Justin’s enthusiasm had more than made up for his lack of experience.  But Brian had kept looking for the ultimate fuck; ignoring the fact that the man who waited for him at home knew every inch of his body.  Knew it well enough that he could cause Brian to near black out with the force of his orgasm, because he had taken the time to learn what really got Brian off.

And while he no longer went to Babylon, he still tricked; he sought out relief at Woody’s or in the Baths on his way home from work.  But it had gotten to the point that even before learning about Justin, he had become bored with the monotony of a less than satisfying blow job or sex.  The asses weren’t tight enough, the skin not soft enough, the sounds all wrong.  Even today, before he’d gone to his standing appointment with Alex, he’d been buried balls deep in a tight ass, and he’d had to picture Justin just to keep his erection.  His orgasm had taken quite some time, because everything about the man he’d been with had been wrong.

Letting his mind drift, Brian thought back over some of their encounters.  The first time Justin had gone down on him, he had asked Brian point blank what got him off, and what he hated.  Brian smiled slightly as he thought back over his answer – “tongue, lips, suck, and don’t use your fucking teeth,” - the horrified look Justin had shot him at the mere thought still bought a smile to his face.  Again, enthusiasm over experience, and he had gamely swallowed what he could with nothing more than a startled “hmm!” when Brian had cum in his mouth.

It had been sloppy and wet, and Justin had gagged more than once.  But he’d gamely gone back to it with nothing more than a sheepish smile.  His boy was a natural born cock sucker – he’d told Brian one night, while he had been lying on his stomach after a marathon fuck session that he loved the weight of a cock in his mouth.  The smell and the taste and the sounds he was able to draw out of Brian with nothing more than a flick of his tongue.  Drowsy, and barely able to move, Justin had all but purred when he felt Brian harden against his thigh. The resulting blowjob that Justin had given him was seared into Brian’s mind.

It had been the first time that Justin had successfully swallowed him down to the root.  He had lain there, with one hand twisted through the soft blond hair on Justin’s head, and the other planted firmly on that heart-shaped ass.  And the entire time Justin has sucked his cock, the boy had been making soft porny sounds that had sounded suspiciously like “num, num, num.”  He had swallowed once, and then swallowed Brian whole, and the purr he had let loose when he hadn’t gagged had Brian coming so hard from the vibration that he had damn near passed out.   

Rolling the thin metal between his fingers again, Brian shifted slightly as he reached down to squeeze his burgeoning erection.  The night Justin had shown off this little gold ring had been first time that Brian had taken him on all fours.  It had glowed against his skin, and Brian had had the first inkling that Justin wasn’t like the other twinks that ran around Liberty Avenue.  He hadn’t been able to get Justin back to the loft fast enough.

The rim job he had given the blond had left Justin a shaken mess, but when Brian had knelt between those splayed legs and grasped his hips, the look Justin had shot him over his shoulder had shown his nerve.  Brian had still drawn his hips up and back so that Justin knelt, but instead of remaining upright himself, he had leaned forward, draping himself over the warm body beneath him.  A firm hand on the curve of Justin’s hip had helped him find the rhythm that Brian had wanted to set, and the harsh moan that had been torn from Justin’s throat when Brian had pushed inside of him had caused goose bumps to break out all over Brian’s body.   

He should have known it then - the signs had all been there.  He’d shown his need to dominate the boy during that fuck, but he had done so by holding Justin down by his biceps rather than the back of his neck like he typically did.  Brian had kept the rhythm easy, while Justin had squirmed beneath him as they rocked together.  Brian had been the one to lace their fingers together as he breathed in the intoxicating scent of sweat and sex that rose from the flexing muscles of Justin’s back – he had never done that before, nor had he left light teeth marks across a man’s skin.

That had been the night that Brian had realized just how much he loved fucking Justin; loved the fact that the boy was so much smaller than he was when they were in bed together.  He often forgot when they were out together, because Justin’s enthusiasm for life made him appear so much bigger than his slim stature really was.  But it was never more evident than when Justin was on his hands and knees; Brian’s body completely surrounded Justin’s.  Brian’s hips had cradled the entire curve of his ass as he bucked almost frantically beneath him as Justin fought back the need to cum. 

But Brian’s experience and knowledge always ensured that was a fight that Justin wouldn’t win; unable to reach for his own cock due to the way Brian had draped his entire weight over his back, Justin would eventually drop his chest to the mattress as his eyes slowly glazed over.  Only Brian’s firm grip on Justin’s hip ensured that the blond would keep rocking back and forth on Brian’s cock, even as he slowly lost his mind under the man fucking him; lost his mind and lost the power of speech, resulting in the throaty sounds that had spilled out of the boy with each slow, heavy thrust. 

He had cried out gutturally when Brian had eventually taken pity on him and reached beneath his straining body to lightly trail his fingertips over the steadily leaking head of Justin’s cock.  That was all it had taken; with another hoarse cry, Justin had erupted all over those teasing fingers.  His internal muscles had clamped down so hard on Brian’s cock that Justin’s orgasm had pulled Brian’s from his own body with no warning, and Brian had collapsed forward on top of Justin with something akin to a roar. 

When Brian had come back to his own mind enough to be aware that he was fully lying on top of a flattened out blond, Justin had been out cold beneath him.  His eyes had been shut, and those gold-tipped lashes had created a fan beneath Justin’s eyes.  His face had still been sex-flushed, and his lips, though slack in sleep, had been blood red from where he had bitten them in reaction to what Brian had been doing to him.  Not even Brian washing the dried cum off his stomach had awakened Justin that night; he had given a tiny kitten purr when Brian had pulled the duvet up over his shoulders that still caused a small smile to tease Brian’s lips whenever he thought about it.  

The need to slip his hand under the elastic of his sweat pants was there; but even as the thought crossed his mind, Brian was pulled away from his memories by the phone.  Brian scowled as his hand drifted over his groin again, and he traced the ridged length of his cock lightly as the machine picked up.  Ignoring the sound of his own voice demanding that the caller leave a message, Brian slowly dragged his hand down over his stomach and under the waistband of his sweats as the machine clicked over:

“I want to know why you lied to me.”

Brian jerked upright as Justin’s voice echoed through the darkness.  For a dozen heartbeats, Brian thought he had imagined the sound of his voice.  But then it came again; lower in tone, and thick with repressed anger.

“I want to know how you justified letting me think that you weren’t there…”

Clambering up from the bed, Brian tripped over his own feet in his haste and hit the ground painfully on his knees; swearing viciously, he scrambled to his feet and limped across the loft as Justin’s voice came again; lower.  Quieter.  More lost sounding as the hum of traffic echoed through the silence between Justin’s sentences.

“Was it punishment because I loved you?  Is that what it was?”

Brian lunged for the phone, as his knees throbbed in time with the pounding of his heart.

“Justin!”

For a moment, the only sounds that came through the phone were of the traffic, and of the half-breaths that Justin was taking that spoke more to Brian than any words Justin could have said.  His boy was more than upset; he was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“Where are you?” Brian asked urgently, and Justin hiccupped out a half-laugh, half-moan.

“Why…so you can ride to the rescue again?  I don’t need fucking saving, Brian, I’m fine!” he snapped, and Brian closed his eyes briefly.

“Why did you lie?”

Sinking down into his desk chair, Brian dragged his hand through his hair before he shook his head.

“I was… I blamed… I don’t know, Justin.  I can’t change it,” Brian said finally.

“You told anyone who would fucking listen that I meant nothing to you…  I asked you if you’d care if I was gone, and you said no… but you sat in that fucking hospital for weeks on end?  You knew how much I needed to see you, I know you did.  Was it a punishment, Brian?  Because I asked you to Prom?”

“NO!” It exploded out of Brian’s mouth, and his breath hitched painfully in his chest in the silence that followed.  “No,” he said finally.  “It wasn’t punishment, Justin, not in the way you think; not towards you.”

“Then why?”

“I was too scared to see you while you were awake,” Brian said finally as he closed his eyes.  “I was too scared that I’d see that you blamed me, too, the way everyone else did.”

“I told you… I fucking told you!”

“I know,” Brian interrupted.  “But I kept putting it off; I had to get you better.  Get you strong again.”

“You deliberately kept that from me… and you want us to be friends?  You don’t treat your friends like that, Brian!”

“And you’ve never lied to me, Justin?” Brian asked quietly, and when Justin’s breath wheezed out, Brian bit his lip. 

“You’re right; I lied to you, too,” Justin said.  “I lied to you about why I stopped dancing at Babylon.  I lied to you about a lot of things, Brian.”

“What else did you lie to me about?” Brian asked, and Justin laughed bitterly.

“About the fact that we could be friends… we were never friends, Brian, you told me that yourself…you don’t fuck your friends.”

“What did you lie to me about, Justin?” Brian asked as calmly as he could; he knew when his boy was deflecting the truth, and Justin was in full defense mode.

For a long moment, only the sound of traffic could be heard; then Justin laughed quietly, but the sound of it held no mirth. 

“It’s a mystery,” he said mockingly, and then hung up the phone.

Brian cursed angrily and clenched his hand around the phone so that he didn’t throw it across the room.  But even as the thought crossed his mind, he forced himself to calm down as he tapped the handset against his lips.  Where had he heard Justin say that before?  It’s a mystery… he knew that he’d heard it come out of Justin’s mouth… when the fuck had he… 

“You’re losing your shirt.”

“You almost lost yours.”

“Yeah, I still have no idea why he dropped the suit.”

“It's a mystery.”

Brian blanched as the memory slithered through his mind; dancing with Justin under the flashing lights of Babylon.  Celebrating the fact that Kip had dropped the lawsuit with barely a whimper; Brian had not only kept his job, but had regained his reputation at work after Kip was hustled out of Ryder’s quicker than Brian could blink.  What had Justin done?  There was no doubt in Brian’s mind that Justin had something to do with this.  But what?

“I guess I'll have to be more careful who I fuck.”

“Lucky for you, I turn eighteen tomorrow.”

Brian swallowed the overly sweet taste of his own spit as the answer caused his stomach to lurch; surely Justin wouldn’t have let Kip fuck him…

“Lucky for you, I turn eighteen tomorrow.”

He dialed the number from memory, only to be told that the cell he had called was no longer in service.  Swearing softly, Brian glared at the offending phone before he bit his lip as hope flared brightly.  Turning the phone over in his hand, Brian thumbed through the phone’s options, and then closed his eyes briefly before he glanced down at the glowing numbers on his call log.  There, shining up at him, was an unknown number - Justin’s new cell number. 

A surge of relief swam through his blood, and Brian carefully wrote the number down before saving it to both his landline and then his cell.  Then he sat back and thought about what he wanted to say; what he wanted Justin to know, more than anything, before he hit redial.  The phone went straight to voicemail, and Justin’s voice echoed in his ear.

“Leave a message.”

“You’re right, I don’t fuck my friends.  But if you look up the definition of a friend, Justin, you’ll learn that it means someone who is a buddy.  A pal.  A fucking companion.  Try looking this word up instead; venerate.  Let me know when you know what it means.”

Hanging up the phone, Brian smiled slightly, and for the first time in over a month he felt something in his chest relax.  He’d thought that Sam had been setting him up when Lindsay had told him what the other boy had said.  But maybe he hadn’t been; from the message that Cynthia had left on his cell, Justin had come looking for him before they had found each other in Alex’s office.  Justin had then called him at home. 

Was his boy angry?  Fuck, yes.  But anger Brian could work with and fight against.  It was the despair and depression that Brian was ill equipped to deal with.  Alex had told him that he would have to fight to get Justin back.  It was a fight that Brian finally felt like he had a chance to win.