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Chapter 18 - Sexual Distraction.

It took the fire department only twenty minutes to clear the building and confirm that it had been a false alarm. 

Of course Horvath’s team already knew that, as the police had refused to leave their command post despite the fire chief’s attempted insistence. They had spent the time going over the video they’d been recording and had easily pinpointed the moment when someone had pulled the fire alarm closest to the front door. Unfortunately, since the police cameras had all been focused on the doorway and what was happening outside in the front courtyard area, all they saw was the culprit’s back. Even then it was difficult to see much since the individual had been standing just inside the front entrance, off to the side and just barely in the range of the cameras, and obscured by a sizeable group of middle school-aged students who’d blocked the view. The only clear detail they’d been able to ascertain was that whomever had pulled the alarm had been of average height and was wearing a black hoodie bearing the familiar logo of Pittsburgh’s football team - the Ironmen. As soon as the alarm was pulled, and the multitude of visitors inside the museum began to stream out, the cameras had lost sight of the hooded hoodlum.

As for the missing ransom money, the police were stumped. The video showed the janitor who’d been emptying the trash looking up in surprise the moment the alarm went off. He was quickly overrun by the hordes of kids rushing out through the front entrance. Amid the chaos, the video showed the janitor pushing his cart to the side so it was out of the direct path of the exiting masses, and then he disappeared along with the rest of the crowd. 

Horvath had the video tech replay the recording several times, all of them watching together, trying to see which of the hundreds of people leaving the museum might have bent down to pick up the briefcase full of ransom money as they passed, but it was hopeless. There had just been too many people - too many bobbing heads - to distinguish the exact moment the bag was taken. Horvath growled and cursed and had the tech play back the recordings from every angle several times over, but there wasn’t anything substantive visible on those recordings.

Meanwhile, another of the police detectives had set Brian up at a separate monitor and was helping him review the video feed from earlier in the morning. Brian had made the drop at precisely ten o’clock, leaving the briefcase in the trash as directed, and then entered the museum through the front doors, going straight into the men’s room, where Horvath’s men had rounded him up and escorted him to the secret command post room. Brian had been watching the video feed along with the cops ever since, in the hopes that he’d recognize the kidnapper when he or she appeared. Clearly that hadn’t happened. So the theory was that, perhaps, the kidnapper had come into the museum before Brian had made the drop in order to be prepared and watching. Which meant that Brian had to go through all the recordings, from all the different cameras, from the time the museum had opened till the disastrous fire alarm had gone off around eleven-thirty. 

It was a lot of video and it took a long time to go through it all carefully. Brian was not being all that cooperative, either. Justin could tell that the man was just barely holding back his panic and fear. Brian’s emotions were on blast, so the roar of his despair was hard to tune out. Not that anyone could blame the man whose son was still missing when it looked like the ransom that was meant to redeem the infant might have been stolen; it was understandable that Brian was a total mess. Justin couldn’t help much with the video review, though, so he used his special talents to try and ease Brian’s emotional overload as best he could. It seemed to work, at least enough so that Brian was able to concentrate on watching the video feed. Mostly.

Because he was so laser-focused on Brian’s emotions, though, Justin felt it the second that Brian startled with surprise. The empath looked up at the monitor Brian had been watching and noticed him staring intently at one of the school groups that was filing through the front entrance. At first Justin couldn’t tell what had caught Brian’s attention; it seemed like just another field trip group, the same as all the others. Then he realized that Brian was staring at one particular woman in the middle of the group. Justin looked at her and felt a stirring of familiarity.

“Brian?” he asked.

“Pause the tape,” Brian directed the policeman who’d been helping him.

“Do you recognize someone?” the detective asked hopefully.

“Yeah, but . . . it’s not the kidnapper.” Brian sighed and shook his head. Justin could sense a surge of animosity, with a tinge of inexplicable sadness added in, coming from his lover, both of which were quickly subsumed by his renewed worry for Gus. “Start the tape again.”

“If you recognize someone, we should look into it, Kinney. Even if it’s just a distant acquaintance,” the Detective - Justin thought he was named Ruiz - advised. 

“It’s just my fucking sister, Claire, and one of her kids,” Brian explained, pointing to the woman wearing a faded blue parka and the pre-teen boy standing next to her. “Peter’s class must be here with the rest for the fucking field trip extravaganza.”

“Hmm,” Ruiz hummed a non-verbal comment and noted the woman’s name on a sheet of paper along with the time stamp on that recording. “Is there any possibility that your sister might be involved in the abduction of your son? Any reason she might hold a grudge against you or want to hurt you?”

“Well, she’s always been a total cunt, and we definitely don’t get along, but she’s way too much of a lazy-assed loser to think up something as elaborate as a kidnapping scheme,” Brian replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Besides, I've only seen Claire once since my father’s funeral last summer. She and my mother got pissed off at me for getting drunk off my ass - they said I was disrespecting his memory or some shit like that - so they’ve been giving me the cold shoulder ever since. Which is fine with me; I don’t want to waste my time with them anyway. My mother is a frigid, drunken bitch who thinks I’m going to hell because I’m gay, and my sister is a whiny little milksop who does nothing but complain about her deadbeat ex-husband and her bratty kids. Hell, I didn’t even tell them when Gus was born - I don’t want my kid to be anywhere near the likes of Saint Joan or Claire the Cunt.” Brian’s words sounded contemptuous and cavalier, but Justin could tell that, underneath, he was far from sanguine about the rift with his biological family. Inside, he was just a hurt little boy who was still nursing a lifetime of wounds caused by his uncaring parents and neglectful sibling. 

“I don’t know . . .” Ruiz hesitated. “Anyone you might have a beef with is worth looking into.”

“You got something over here?” Horvath questioned, striding over to their corner of the room to find out what the discussion was about. 

“Kinney’s sister and nephew were here today,” Ruiz answered his superior. “Apparently the family is less than approving of Mr. Kinney’s lifestyle and they’ve been estranged for most of the last year . . .”

“But, as I told you, they don’t even know about Gus, so there’s no way that Claire could be the kidnapper,” Brian asserted. “Besides, how’s a housewife, here with her kid on a fucking field trip no less, gonna pull off a ransom pickup? Huh? And that’s assuming Claire is smart enough to pull off a kidnapping, which isn’t likely since she dropped out of highschool to pop out the first of her two loser brats. Trust me, Claire was never the brightest bulb in the box.” 

Justin could tell that Horvath was about to object and press the point when their discussion was interrupted by someone from a different monitor calling to them. “Hey, Boss. I think I found the Ironmen guy in the crowd out in the field after the alarm.”

Horvath turned his back on Brian and Ruiz and hustled over to look at the images on the other monitor. Brian paused in his own video viewing, holding his breath long enough to listen in on the other group, until it became clear that the video didn’t show anything more than the back of a black hooded head, which disappeared again a few frames later. It seemed like another dead end. Brian sighed and went back to reviewing more video images on his own. Justin went back to his empathic support role. And that was that for another hour or so until they’d finished going through all the recordings without finding anything more.

The bottom line, after reviewing all the tapes multiple times, was that the police weren’t sure if the fire alarm had been a distraction that was part of the kidnapper’s plan or if it was just a coincidence and somebody else had taken off with the ransom. Horvath promised that they’d have a forensic team back at the station look over the recordings again and see if they couldn’t come up with something more - maybe they could enhance the images and pinpoint exactly when the ransom bag had been picked up - but for the time being they really didn’t have anything definite. Brian was told to go home and wait to hear from the kidnapper. If the ransom had been picked up by the person who’d abducted Gus, hopefully they’d relay directions on how to get the child back. And, if not, well . . . there wasn’t anything more Brian could do at the museum anyway, so he might as well go home. 

Justin followed Brian as the dejected man left the museum, heading toward the parking lot to the south of the park, where he’d left his car. Justin could sense how terribly depressed and hopeless Brian felt. The empath wasn’t feeling much better himself. It seemed like the morning had been a complete disaster. And they still didn’t have Gus.

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Neither man spoke on the drive back to the loft. What was there to say? Justin wanted to be supportive, but he could tell that Brian didn’t want to hear any platitudes; false cheerfulness would just piss the older man off. At least Brian wasn’t trying to actively push him away. He also still hadn’t put up his emotional barriers, but perhaps that was due to fatigue and depression more than anything else. Brian just seemed so defeated. Justin hoped that his mere presence was support enough. 

When they arrived at the loft, Brian simply got out of the Jeep and headed inside, not even noticing that Justin was tagging along behind him. That was a very bad sign, as far as Justin was concerned. He didn’t like this passive Brian Kinney at all. He seemed like he’d already given up. However Justin wasn’t ready to throw in the towel yet. Not by a long shot. He was still convinced they had the power to find the kidnapper using their combined empathic skills, if only he could get Brian to work with him. Now seemed like as good a time as any.

Brian opened the door to the loft and walked straight back to the bedroom, not even pausing to ensure that Justin closed the door behind them. He toed off his boots and climbed under the covers with all his clothes on. Ouch. That was definitely not a good sign. 

Justin wasn’t deterred, though. He merely followed Brian’s example, kicking off his own shoes next to the door and making sure to lock it, before  joining Brian in the big platform bed. Brian didn’t acknowledge his newly arrived bedmate when Justin scootched up behind him - the little spoon fitting himself to the form of the bigger one for a change - and put his arms around the larger body. It wasn’t until Justin reached out with his mind, trying to establish the special connection that he knew they shared, that Brian roused even a little bit. 

“Stop, Justin. I’m not in the mood,” Brian grumbled as he tried to roll away from the clingy blond limpet attached to his back.

“I bet that’s the first time those words ever came out of your mouth,” Justin teased him, trying for lightheartedness. 

“Twat,” was Brian’s only response. 

Justin was a persistent little fuck though. “Come on, Brian. Let me in. Please. I know we can reach out to the kidnapper again if you’ll just let me do my thing . . .”

“Justin . . .” Brian sighed. But then he finally rolled over so he could look at the teen directly. “I just . . . I can’t. It’s too hard . . .” Brian’s words faltered and he bit his bottom lip in frustration. 

“You don’t have to do anything, Brian. I’ll do everything. I just need you to be my link.”

“That’s not it. I . . .” He huffed a breath filled with frustration and sadness. “I can’t stand seeing Gus like that - the way I see him in your visions - crying and alone and maybe even sick . . . It kills me every time I see him there, Justin. Especially since there’s nothing I can do to help him. I . . . I can’t do it. It hurts too much.”

Justin didn’t have any argument against that so he just remained silent. 

But that heavy silence was even too much for Brian, it seemed. After only five minutes or so of lying there, wallowing in a morass of melancholy, the Stud groaned and began to stir. When he rolled himself on top of the younger man, his head buried in blond floss, and started to nuzzle at the warmth behind one shell-like ear, Justin immediately understood what it was that Brian was after. He needed distraction. He needed to feel in control. He needed comfort, but not in a hugs and quiet understanding way. Brian was a highly sexual being who had always dealt better when he could fuck away his cares. And who was Justin to argue with what had worked so well for so long, right? Besides, all that squirming and nuzzling and groping had the poor boy so horny that he couldn’t muster enough blood to his brain to think up any rational objection. 

So, fine. Sexual distraction it would be. That was as good a way to relieve the built up stress of the day as any. Fuck it all!

With Justin lying there, offering up his body to the attentions of his lover, Brian slowly kissed and nibbled and licked and bit his way down the ivory column of a slender neck, over a rounded shoulder, and across a jutting collarbone. Meanwhile, down below, the big hands had found their way under the hem of Justin’s shirt and started to inch the fabric upward. Every place Brian touched, it felt like a lick of flame against Justin’s sensitive skin; a sense-memory of caresses mapping out Brian’s progress. It was exquisite torture. 

Justin eventually had to squirm around, allowing his cock to free itself from where it had been trapped, angling uncomfortably down his left pant leg. Brian helped out by unzipping his fly and popping the top button, allowing his dick to escape fully, leaping up as if eager to connect with its liberator, only to fall back with a soft *swak* against his belly. The youth giggled at the apendage’s antics. Even Brian smiled approvingly.

Brian, however, was too focused for amusement. He’d already returned to his job of ridding Justin of that pesky shirt. The tall man bent his body almost in half so he could kiss the navel he revealed as he bunched up the soft cotton fabric. He pushed the shirt higher and bit at the edge of a rib. Higher still and the pads of his thumbs found two matching nipples, rubbing and circling till they became hard little pebbles of super-sensitized flesh, each with a direct connection to the nerve pathways leading to the teen’s straining cock. Justin’s moaning was pretty much constant by that point, which only seemed to drive Brian on.

With one more shove, Brian had Justin’s shirt up to the boy’s chin. The helpful youth raised his arms, intending to assist with the clothing removal. Instead of pulling the shirt all the way off, though, Brian stopped the moment the material had covered Justin’s face. Then, taking hold of a wad of fabric, Brian deftly twisted it up, cinching the material tighter and turning the shirt into an impromptu combination blindfold and handcuffs, which effectively immobilized Justin’s upper body. Not that Justin had planned on struggling much to start with, but if that’s what Brian needed to feel in control, he was happy to oblige. Happy to submit, to let his lover prove his domination, his mastery, his control. Happy to let Brian take possession of his body. Whatever it took to give Brian back the sense of power that the kidnapper had stolen along with his son.

As soon as he had Justin immobilized, Brian grabbed hold of Justin’s cock with his free hand and started to tug while his mouth continued to attack the younger man’s chest and torso. He was putting his teeth to good use, biting and sucking at every piece of skin he found, hard enough that Justin knew his pale skin would be marked all over. And he loved it! He’d never been as turned on as he was by this Aggressive Brian. Not that Brian hadn't always been a dominant lover, but there was something almost animalistic in the way Brian was seemingly trying to devour him whole that afternoon. Justin wasn’t sure he could last till the actual sex started, that’s how hard he was.

Luckily, Brian paused right at the moment that Justin’s balls started to tingle with a tell-tale warning. Brian put his mouth up against the side of Justin’s head, the warmth of his breath seeping through the thin cotton t-shirt that still blinded the youth, and growled - literally growled like an animal - while twisting the fabric even tighter around his arms. 

“Do NOT move. Not even a fucking centimeter,” he snarled and bit Justin’s earlobe through the fabric.

Justin moaned his acceptance of the order.

The weight of Brian’s body lifted and Justin was left alone for a moment. He immediately missed the physical contact; maybe even felt a little lost. But since he wasn’t allowed to move, he had to use his other senses to follow his lover’s movement around the room. 

First, there was the shifting of the mattress underneath him as Brian got to his feet, and the dip and release, dip and release as he walked the two steps over to the side of the bed nearest the bathroom. Next, Justin heard a thump as something heavy landed on the floor and the weight on the mattress disappeared. That was followed by soft, shuffling, barefoot steps that barely made any sound on the hardwood floor. Then, Justin detected the sound of wood sliding against wood, some rattling, and was startled when something cold and hard rolled to a stop against the side of his exposed torso. And finally, there was the crinkle of plastic and a muted ripping noise, probably the result of a condom packet being separated from the ribbon of its peers. Justin shivered with happy anticipation. 

“Good boy,” Brian whispered his approval for Justin’s obedient inaction a moment later as the mattress dipped once more.

But before the Good Boy could respond, he was again accosted. This time it involved Brian tugging at the legs of his pants to try and finish the disrobing process. The boy started to arch up, intent on helping out, but was startled into stillness again by another growl. Oops. He wasn’t supposed to move, was he? Justin froze. He let himself be undressed like a ragdoll. Whatever Brian needed, right?

Brian resumed his actions, wrangling the pants off his victim and then dropping to his knees in the space between Justin’s widespread thighs. There followed a long moment of pause and Justin was tempted to peek from under his blindfold to see what Brian was doing, but at the last minute he restrained himself. This was Brian’s show. Justin could be patient. 

Luckily, his patience was rewarded a moment later when two strong hands began to work their way up his body. They started at his calves, the fingertips trailing upwards and causing a strange tickling sensation because of the way the hair on his legs was being stroked in the wrong direction. The motion continued over his knees and up his thighs, the thumbs creating little circle motions across the skin as they passed. Having to wait, unable to see but only feel, as the excitement of Brian’s caresses accumulated, was exciting and aggravating at the same time. Justin didn’t think his cock had ever been harder in his entire life.

However, when the tantalizing touches reached hip level, his expectations were dashed as Brian’s hands skipped right over Justin’s funner bits and scurried on up to ravage his chest again. Brian chuckled at his victim’s tiny moan of disappointment. A second later, though, Justin forgave all transgressions when Brian’s mouth executed a surprise attack, descending abruptly and engulfing the heretofore neglected member with a suction force worthy of Mr. Hoover himself. So it really wasn’t any surprise that Justin shot his entire load only moments later, was it? 

“Mmmmmm. Nectar of the gods,” Brian commented as soon as he finished lapping up his special treat, eliciting a giggle from Justin. “And now that the appetizer is over, we can move on to the main course.”

There was more plastic crinkling, the snick of the cap on the tube of lube, and then Justin felt a squish of coldness causing him to jump as the lubricant was applied to the sensitive flesh of his hole. Justin felt Brian’s arms sliding under and around his thighs. The next thing he knew, his legs had been lifted up so that his knees were crooked over the broad shoulders of his lover and Brian was scooting even closer. It was difficult to relax when the anticipation of what was coming was so overwhelming; no matter how horrible the day had been thus far, Justin’s body thrilled at the expectation of getting that amazing cock back inside him again. There was nothing that could compare to being fucked by Brian Kinney, no matter what the circumstances were surrounding the experience. Nothing.

He wasn’t disappointed, either. The initial stretch and burn as that prodigious poker first breached him was always a bit of a shock, but the ensuing fullness was so satisfying that Justin quickly forgot any discomfort. It was like they fit together. Two puzzle pieces that snapped into place as if they were meant to be part of the same, bigger picture. It might be a cliche, but Justin truly felt completed every time he joined with Brian. And, as the thickness of Brian’s cock slid home into his depths, Justin sighed contentedly. 

Not that he was allowed to relax into that contentment for long. Not today. Today, Brian was on a rampage. He was like a ravening animal. As soon as he was reasonably assured that Justin had adjusted to his initial entry, Brian started driving into Justin, again and again, using the hold he had on the boy’s thighs to pummel into the smaller body as energetically as he possibly could. If he hadn’t been holding onto the youth, Justin would have gone flying off the edge of the mattress from the sheer force of those thrusts. But even in his frenzy, Brian was a consummate artist in the realm of bedding a man; he unerringly hit Justin’s sweet spot with every jab and controlled his withdrawal so that the flared ridge of his cock just barely nudged against the rim of the youth’s hole on every outward pull. It was so amazing that, even though Justin had just come, he was already on the edge again after only a couple dozen thrusts. 

That’s where things took an amazing but unexpected turn, though. 

At one point Brian had leaned forward so that his hungry mouth could join in the fun; he bent the boy in half in order to resume his biting and nibbling at Justin’s nipples. But that didn’t seem to suffice and before long the man’s tongue was moving upwards, licking a path over Justin’s chest, sucking for a moment on a prominent clavicle, and then tasting its way up the side of a slender neck. He had to pause a moment to unearth Justin’s lips from under the fabric that was covering the boy’s face, but as soon as he’d found the lips he was seeking, Brian began to feast on the suppleness he found there, with Justin eagerly kissing back, just as hungry for that taste. 

Even then it seemed like Brian wasn’t satisfied. Something was still missing. He needed to wholly possess the entirety of this man. He needed the connection that he only got from Justin. So, as if he couldn’t help himself, Brian slowly pushed the cotton fabric upwards, unblinding Justin and allowing their eyes to meet. 

The second the hazel met cornflower blue, there was a frisson of electric static and then the emotional connection between the two men flared into prominence. It was like a switch was flipped. One minute they were each separate individuals, and the next they were fused as one combined entity. The link between them was absolute. They were each a part of the other; no longer alone. And that emotional feedback loop that Justin had occasionally experienced in the past with others was suddenly on blast. He could feel every thrust of Brian’s cock from both the receiving end and the wielding end. It was shattering and powerful and breathtaking and he never wanted it to end. 

Even perfection eventually comes to some kind of conclusion though. And maybe that was for the best, because Justin didn’t think he could bear the unspeakable sublimity of the link that bloomed between him and Brian as they made love. Even as he thought that thought, however, he could feel Brian recoiling from the gushy sentiment. The sentimentality. But Brian could fight it all he wanted; nothing would ever make what they had any less real. Any less vivid. Any less intense. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just fucking. This was a joining of two souls so profound that it defied description. It wasn’t something that came along every day. It was implacable. It couldn’t be fought. It was all-encompassing and would mark one’s spirit for eternity. 

Strangely enough, when the climax of their joining came, it was almost anticlimactic. First Justin and then Brian reached that point of arousal where the physicality of their bodies took over from the affectability of their emotional link and it took them each, individually and as a pair, over the edge of bliss. It was almost like that electrical spark that caught fire in Justin’s core jumped the fire line to Brian’s being, resulting in a total conflagration that burned through them both with a white-hot heat of joyousness. But that physical release was still secondary to the emotional balm that washed over them at the same time. And they never lost that connection, even at the height of their orgasms. It was literally the most exquisite moment either man could even imagine. A moment neither could ever forget.

Which is when the other remarkable thing happened.

While they were lying there, wrapped in a post-coital bliss that seemed to sap both men of the ability to think or speak or even move, the emotional connection between them still crystal clear and so strong it felt unbreakable, Justin felt a psychic nudge at the back of his mind. He was too open to even try to exclude the newcomer, so it was inevitable that both he and Brian were assailed a moment later by a new vision of Gus’ abductor. This time the image that came to him showed a glimpse of the briefcase Brian had used to deliver the ransom. It was sitting open on the same kitchen table Justin had seen the night before and the kidnapper’s hands were seen lifting out one of the bundles of $20 dollar bills banded together into $500 stacks. They could sense the gloating and victoriousness the kidnapper was feeling at that moment. The monster was so self-pleased it was sickening. 

“So, does this mean we can finally get rid of the brat?” a voice in the background, far enough away from the scene they were witnessing that it was barely discernible, asked. 

Justin could hear the faint wailing of a baby in the distance, but it was muffled, as if coming from another room. He felt Brian recoiling with horror. But Justin resisted, maintaining the three-way link with all the might of his psyche. He needed to hear this answer and so did Brian. 

“Hell, yes!” the kidnapper responded with glee. “I can’t wait to get rid of that noisy little bastard. The sooner the better. I’ve just got to figure out a safe way to offload the little shit without getting caught . . .”

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