Of course. This Monday has been a disaster from the very morning, why should now be any different?

As soon as the doctor prescribed him glasses three days ago and his mother got the ugliest ones possible, Aidan knew this was not going to end well. He was never popular at school, and sometimes jocks would pick on him as it is.

But now they have a clear reason to.

“Are you deaf as well?” a bunch of boys follow him and Aidan feels that the fight is now inevitable. “Hey, Kinney!”

He speeds up, his heart jumping right in his throat. There are at least two, maybe three of them, he can’t get a good look anymore.

“Aidan?” he hears Brian call him in his head. “You want me to deal with them?”

Aidan wants to. Yes, he is about to agree any second, but is trying to stay silent for as long as he can. Brian is always there, ever since he was a nameless voice in Aidan’s head, always protecting him, always taking his pain away. Brian is fearless, fierce, strong, and he stops at nothing.

Aidan is jealous of him. But letting Brian out means accepting defeat. So, he breaks into a run, and not long after someone launches their backpack at him. It hits him right in the shoulder, knocks the air out of his lungs and forces him to land on the dirty pavement.

“Gotcha! Strike!”

Their shrieking laugh is so loud it pierces the sky above and echoes in the air. Aidan is breathing in the dust, not even trying to get up. His glasses got knocked off his face and among all the blur - wet, are those tears? - he cannot even spot them.

“Let me out, Aidan,” Brian speaks softly. “I don’t want you hurt.”

“I’m already hurt,” Aidan sobs, standing on all fours. His scraped palms sting so, so bad.

“Then let’s hurt them back,” Brian decides. “You can watch if you want.”

With that, a familiar strong, overwhelming feeling swallows Aidan’s mind and takes him away, away, away so far and so deep, a place where he cannot hurt anymore. Where the pain doesn’t reach. A place where he is soothed by the soft silence, covering him like warm blanket. He doesn’t want to watch. He will just let Brian do his thing.

“They ate dirt,” Brian proudly says later and Aidan actually manages a soft smile from his far-far away place in the depth of his conciseness. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I found your glasses,” he puts them on and flinches immediately. “Shit. Why do you even need them?”

Aidan peaks out a little and sees their body stumble on the way home. The road is empty, so no one is there to hear Brian talk to himself.

“You don’t?” Aidan puzzles suspiciously, but as soon as he peaks some more, he understands what Brian means.

It’s all blurry. Brian’s vision goes blurry when he puts the glasses on, just as Aidan’s when he removes them.

“Wow,” Aidan sighs enviously as Brian shoves the glasses into his pocket and they stay silent for a second or two, “Brian?” he finally calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can you go to doctors with mom instead of me?”

“Deal,” Brian giggles. “But you know I’m not so good at pretending to be you.”

“Then don’t pretend,” Aidan shrugs from his fuzzy bundle of imaginary blankets on the backseat of his mind. “And Brian?”

“What the fuck more?” Brian replies, amused.

“Go to school, too,” Aidan suggests. “At least sometimes.”

“You’re smarter, though,” Brian tells him dubiously.

“You’re tougher,” Aidan finds himself say. “And… we both need some time out, right? It’s… healthy.”

“If that’s how you talk after just one doctor visit, I better damn go there instead of you, smartass.”

And they guffaw. And Aidan feels so warm, soft and tingly, and cared for. He allows Brian to carry him home, because that’s how it always seems: as if you are safe at the passenger seat while someone else is behind the wheel, in control.

And if there is anyone on earth Aidan doesn’t mind relinquishing all the control to, it’s Brian.

Everything in Aidan’s home is neat. The place is a large mansion in the outskirts of the city - rich people’s village, if you will - and it even has stables. Not to mention the pool.

None of which interest Justin at the moment.

“Aidan, I still don’t understand.”

“Did he?”

“Did he what?”

“Touch you.”

“Who?”

“Brian!”

“I have no idea who Brian is.”

The exchange between them is so rapid, Justin almost feels like Aidan is accusing him of something. He still does not understand why did he even accept the invitation in the first place. Probably, because his enigmatic boss just draws him like Justin is some stupid moth near a flame.

“I’m sorry, Justin,” Aidan inhales deeply. Then he exhales. And Justin unknowingly does the same, which actually helps a little bit. “I should’ve started this conversation in a whole other way. Would you give me another chance?”

Justin is not stupid, a moth or no. He spent the whole night after dinner (with his ass cheek still burning from the grope) searching any information about different personalities or disorders that included Aidan’s symptoms. He found quite a lot of information, and some of it even made sense. Yet he had to hear it from the man himself.

So, he played a pretty little idiot. People often underestimate how far that can get one in life.

“Go on,” Justin prompts, folding his arms across his chest.

“Brian was there since I was a child,” Aidan begins, scotch splashing and shimmering in his thick glass tumbler. “First as a voice, then as… an entity? Call it as you wish. My family… my father wasn’t quite fond of me. And at some point, I needed… protection. That’s when Brian came along.”

“Did he abuse you?” Justin suggests in a soft voice. “I mean your father.”

“He… yes. Yes, he did,” Aidan confirms and his deep beautiful eyes fill with something sad and mysterious. Probably, memories of the past. “Despite us sharing one body, Brian is a whole other…”

He thinks for a second or two.

“… thing,” he finishes.

“… person,” Justin offers at the same time.

Their eyes meet and Aidan’s face softens.

“Okay, person,” he confirms quietly as he pushes his glasses up into place. “I swear neither of us is a serial killer or something. I’m sure, whatever Brian thinks of you and however he… is, he never would as much as lay a finger on you, same goes for me. That’s important. Do you trust me, Justin?”

‘He thinks I’m a sweet piece of ass’ thought rushes through Justin’s head like a bullet train, once again leaving him strangely exited.

“Justin?” Aidan raises an eyebrow at him, waiting.

“Yes. Please, go on.”

Aidan turns his head towards the window and Justin admires his graceful profile. Aidan is nice to look at, his face outlined warmly by the glints of crispy fire in the fireplace. Justin likes this time of evening, when twilight is already here, but the lights are still not on.

“Brian got me through the most difficult times of my childhood,” Aidan continues, then he makes a sip. Justin hopes that eventually his scotch will help him to ease the stutter. “And in return, I got good education and focused on finding a well-paid job. I was always the brain, and he was the muscle, if you prefer a simple, boiled down version of it,” he clears his throat. “We both have our separate lives, or some… activities that we do. Essentially, I provide and he protects. We’re thirty now, so it’s a well-oiled machine at this point. Or it was. Until you came along.”

The words burn. Not in an aching sort of way, but in a sweet, satisfying sort. Justin doesn’t know why, but the ability to confuse this man (these men?) flatters him immensely.

“Do you… uh,” Justin doesn’t quite know how to formulate this particular question, so he narrows his eyebrows, while Aidan ducks his head and waits patiently with a soft, forgiving expression. He even smiles an indulgent smile, but Justin doesn’t like that. “Do you come out willingly? Do you… see what Brian is doing when he’s out? Does he… see?”

‘Is Brian looking at me right now?’ is not said out loud, but Justin is very bothered. He can’t tell exactly in what way.

“Depends,” Aidan replies slowly, putting his glass aside. Something about his body tells Justin he is going to step closer to maybe touch him. “Sometimes we can allow each other to peak and be co-conscious, that’s useful. We can speak to each other as well,” he does stand up from his chair, just like Justin expected him to. Tall and soft and strong and smelling so nicely. Justin’s heart jumps anticipating a nearing embrace. “Sometimes we don’t want to watch. Yesterday I didn’t. But sometimes we want to shut each other out for privacy,” he takes Justin’s hands in his, looking at them intently, and then his eyes dart up to meet Justin’s. “Like now.”

Justin wants to kiss Aidan, but what he wants more is for him to take another first step. Aidan doesn’t.

“Why didn’t you watch?” Justin whispers, leaning closer.

“I… I sort of freak at the sight of blood,” Aidan starts stuttering once again and Justin reassuringly squeezes his hands. “Usually Brian fronts immediately if there is any blood around. He doesn’t like that, though…” a breathy nervous laugh escapes his mouth. “Says it’s the silliest reason for him to come out. But he still does, ever since we were kids. You saw him in the office with… with Cynthia. He pushed me to ask you out, actually.”

Questions swarm Justin’s mind, flashing through his thoughts.

“Does Cynthia know?”

“No. She just knows her boss is a little… weird. Brian knows his place while we’re at work.”

“Pushed you to ask me out?”

“We both liked you when we saw the picture on your resume. I wanted to step down, he dared me not to.”

“So, is it a fucking contest then?” Justin blurts out and gives Aidan a solemn upward glare. He can see Aidan flinch slightly, but for some reason he doesn’t start another one of his endless explanations.

“Am I winning?” he flashes Justin an actual grin.

“Not funny yet,” Justin replies, softening slightly at the change of mood.

‘Am I winning?’ run-run-runs in his head, all over again, like a broken radio playing. Is he winning? Justin does want him, but as soon as he remembers Brian’s grip and his husky laugh and his hot breath and everything, a whole different kind of fire sparks his blood, making his limbs heavy and needy. It doesn’t even feel like cheating, since both men share the same body.

“Another reason why I didn’t watch,” Aidan adds, grin melting away from his mouth. “I would hate to see you scared. And I knew I was leaving you in capable hands, too. Brian is yet to let me down when it comes to that sort of thing. He is strong.”

“He is,” Justin confirms simply. Images of Aid- Brian fighting off two people with a baseball bat fresh in his head. He smiles shyly. “It was impressive, actually.”

“Justin?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you like him? More than me?”

“Aidan, he…” now it’s Justin’s turn to stutter. “He looks like you, talks like you, smells like you, he is you. Don’t expect me not to get confused with… all this.”

For a moment, there is silence. And then Aidan’s hands fall and he doesn’t hold Justin anymore, just stands very closely, a strange expression Justin can’t identify yet taking over his face.

“Of course. Of course, guys always liked him more,” Aidan mutters quietly and Justin thinks that’s the first ever time he actually sees his boss annoyed. “Because he is pushy and sexy and cool and a macho and God knows what. Everyone liked him more. But you know what? Even if you do get with him once, he will just have you in bed and forget you, because that’s what he does.”

The words are way too harsh to be said by someone like Aidan, and he himself appears to be scared of Justin’s reaction now. Justin watches his eyelashes flutter as his eyes dart around the print on the carpet beneath their feet.

‘Have you in bed’ is such a ridiculous way to put it just for the sake of not saying the word ‘fuck’, Justin thinks. And yet, he likes the prospect. For some reason, that exact phrase makes him think of Brian’s hands on him and his skin ignites again.

“Aidan,” Justin calls to him gently as he puts a tender hand on his cheek, running it down his shoulder and leaving it there, warm, comforting. Aidan’s head remains hung, and his breath seems heavier. “Try and understand me, alright? It’s a lot to take in.”

Justin skipped the moment when the shift in Aidan’s posture and behavior became familiar and easily recognizable, but apparently, now it is. He feels muscles under his palm tense for a split second, Aidan’s eyes still darting around.

And then he loosens up, lifts his face and Justin sees a suggestive smirk settle on his soft mouth. In what Justin can now define only as Brian-like fashion, he takes his glasses off and tosses them aside dismissively.

“I can give you something else to take in,” Brian rasps and Justin is immediately yanked towards him, encircled by strong hands on his waist and pressed tightly against the man’s chest. His lips brush against Justin’s earlobe, sending a jolt of heat down Justin’s body and straight into his dick. “Except that might be an even bigger struggle.”

“Jesus,” Justin gasps.

“Just Brian,” is the reply.

“What are you doing here?” Justin attempts to appear pissed off while Brian pushes him slightly towards the nearest wall and shoves a knee in between his legs. A smug expression that takes over Brian’s face upon discovering Justin’s hard-on actually helps Justin appear pissed off. “We were having a serious conversation.”

“I heard bits and pieces,” Brian says wetly into Justin’s neck while his hot hands travel down Justin’s back and onto his ass. “You seem to have upset Aidan and now he needs time to sulk. So here I am.”

“Why are you doing this to him?” putting his hands firmly against Brian’s shoulders, but not actually pushing away yet, Justin asks. He hates himself for throwing his head back, exposing his neck more for Brian’s mouth.

Brian laughs: a husky, bitten-off bark that goes straight to Justin’s cock.

“No, sunshine,” he breathes out against the side of Justin’s face. “You are doing this to him,” one of his hands finds its way to Justin’s crotch. “I dare you to tell me you don’t want me. Go on.”

As he brushes his fingers deliberately against Justin’s dick through the denim fabric of his pants, Justin himself sees white. His thoughts tangle together in a messy mush of “yes-yes-more-yes”, his breath gets ragged, and a soft moan is pulled forcefully out of his throat as Brian’s lips finally devour his. Brian pushes his tongue right into Justin’s mouth while cupping his chin in one hand, squeezing it. The kiss is wet and hot and sloppy and needy. This has nothing on Aidan’s soft, gentle, respectful kisses. This inflames Justin’s whole body, makes his blood shimmer and hum.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me?” Justin gasps for air helplessly.

“Ask you what?”

“What did I upset him with.”

“What is there to ask?” Brian scoffs and Justin flinches slightly as the air cools off his wet-kissed skin. “Aidan usually gets cranky when a guy picks me over him. That’s why we stopped going after the same ones.”

“How often did that happen?” Justin finds himself tip-toeing, reaching for Brian’s hot breath to eventually connect their mouths once again. His mind is way to clouded to deny anything at all, even if Brian is not exactly in the right about Justin picking anyone yet.

If anything, what’s to blame is Justin’s cock. It’s definitely way too hard for Brian.

“How often do you think?” Brian pushes him away playfully, arching a cocky eyebrow.

A pang of guilt pierces Justin’s blurry consciousness and he actually manages a stern look for the first time in ten minutes.

“Aidan is a good man,” Justin says and he is not lying.

“Face it,” Brian’s sharp tongue slides in between his lips while he runs a hot wanting look over Justin. “Aidan is boring.”

“You can be good and boring,” Justin complies quickly and pushes himself up off the wall once again, this time actually kissing Brian. The man smiles into his lips and responds lazily. His hands stay down this time.

“Not that I don’t want to fuck you,” Brian finally tells him, stopping the messy kisses with a firm hand on Justin’s shoulder. “But we need to establish something. Aidan wants you too, so it’s better that none of us has you. Believe it or not, I can keep it in my pants when it counts. Besides,” he turns around and starts to pull Aidan’s cashmere sweater off while he crosses the doorway and heads upstairs. “I planned to party and I fucking hate his posh clothes, so gotta change.”

‘We wouldn’t need clothes if you’d fuck me’ Justin thinks, but smothers the thought silent. He drinks the sight of Brian’s smooth, toned body instead. He wants to run his tongue all over this sun-kissed golden skin.

Justin knows Brian wants him, and no matter what he says, there are still opportunities. A lot of them.

“You coming?” Brian asks over his shoulder. Exactly what Justin thinks. Opportunities.

Justin sees him across the dancefloor. The man looks content and sated, striding confidently towards Justin and the bar. Dressed in a pair of form-fitting jeans and a thin cotton t-shirt, all black, Brian now looks distinctively different, not at all like Aidan in his posh expensive suits and sweaters and slacks.

“Hey there,” a new voice calls Justin. “Looking for some company?”

“No,” Justin does not even glance at him, eyes fixed on Brian as he repeats his chant of the evening: “I’m not interested.”

“You’re hot as fuck,” the guy keeps at it, and Justin senses him step closer. “I watched you. You stood here alone for, like, an hour.”

“Wonder how that happened,” Justin mutters as he rolls his eyes, still determined not to look at the stranger. Brian suddenly emerges from the crowd and casually puts his arm on the bar right beside Justin’s body, effectively cutting the annoying guy off.

“You want him?” Brian mouths to Justin, gesturing his index finger towards the guy. As soon as he sees Justin shake his head ‘no’, Brian turns to the stranger and orders firmly: “Get lost.”

“Thanks,” Justin sighs when the guy finally takes off, intimidated by Brian.

“Should’ve gotten laid while you had the chance,” leaning closer, Brian tells him, mouth against his ear for the second time this evening. “I know I wouldn’t have been able to talk to you at all if I didn’t.”

Justin shifts his body slightly and ends up touching the crook of Brian’s neck with his nose. He inhales deeply and grits his teeth as the scent alone makes him hard: Brian doesn’t smell like Aidan anymore, there is no blend of expensive skincare products or neat clean clothes. A trace of cologne still remains, but now it’s mixed with sweat and nicotine and something musky, something of Brian’s, so intoxicating that Justin almost feels dizzy.

“I thought you didn’t want to upset Aidan,” Justin replies, lips brushing against Brian’s neck.

“You don’t want him anyway,” Brian shrugs. “Wanna get out of here? I’m always fucking starving after I fuck my brains out.”

Later, when Brian parks his Jeep - Justin learned earlier that he and Aidan even have two separate cars - at the nearest beach, both of them munch on fried Chinese takeout watching the stars slowly dissolve as the dawn nears.

Justin doesn’t know if he prefers this to a fancy expensive place he and Aidan were to, but he certainly doesn’t mind feeding Brian, who it turns out, absolutely sucks when it comes to using chopsticks.

“That is so weird,” Justin giggles as another piece of chicken disappears in Brian’s mouth. “I saw Aidan use chopsticks once when he ordered food to work. He has no problem with them.”

“We have different skills,” Brian explains reluctantly. “He needs glasses, I don’t. He’s scared of blood, I’m not. I can throw a punch, he can’t. You get the picture.”

“You didn’t list anything he’s good at,” Justin takes a bite himself, using the same pair of chopsticks.

“Didn’t you just say he can use chopsticks?”

“Seriously.”

“I usually take fucking over interrogations.”

“It was your call.”

They share a couple of hot glances and a moment of silence, and then Brian breaks eye contact.

“Fine,” he continues. “I hate math, have no idea about art or advertising, suck at etiquette… I was only in college to play soccer, really. Aidan can’t hold a fucking ball to save his life.”

The whole idea of two completely different people sharing one body is so new to Justin that he can barely contain himself.

“I don’t understand how could that be,” he gasps and puts the box of fried rice on the dashboard, driven by the sudden urge for the animated hand gesturing. “If Aidan is the real one, and you’re just-”

Justin understands his mistake nearly immediately, freezes for a second, and then honestly tries to soothe the effect of his words by rapid “no-no-no, that’s not what I meant”, but it doesn’t work. Brian’s face gets stern, all the playfulness melts away along with the last star on the now pinkish sky.

“I’ll drive you home,” Brian says evenly. “You and Aidan have an early morning.”

“Silly girl!” Jack Kinney hisses as Brian runs in through the front door. “I told you not to step in between me and mother!”

Claire was Aidan’s sister, and today, just like many other days before this one, she got mixed up into Joan and Jack Kinney’s relationship drama. Jack usually rarely hits her, but since he nearly broke Joan’s skull in back when Aidan was five, Claire started to get in the way of their fights more often in attempts to protect her mother.

They’re seventeen already, and Brian started to work out regularly to keep themselves in shape. He enjoyed being strong.

“Dad, stop!” Claire yells as Jack pulls her hair and tosses her aside, smashing her frail body into the nearest wall. “Don’t touch her!”

Joan is silent. Sometimes Brian thinks ever since she took a flower vase to the head, something went wrong with her. He feels no compassion towards her, she always let Jack do whatever he felt like doing, even if it included beating his own children breathless.

Nonetheless, Brian crosses the living room in two swift steps and yanks Jack backwards by the collar of his t-shirt, effectively forcing him to land on the couch.

“Sit down,” he snarls. “Or else.”

The older Brian is, the more his death stares seem to affect Jack. Old man just nods at him and stays sitting, finally letting Joan to keep going with whatever she was preparing in the kitchen.

“Let’s go wash your face up,” Brian says as he stretches his arm towards Claire.

The girl sobs a little, still on the floor, looking up at him hesitantly, and then clings on to his arm to let him walk her upstairs. As soon they’re alone in the corridor, she breaks her hand free from his and jumps at least a foot away.

“You’re not my brother,” she whispers, eyes full of horror bored into him. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

Brian just stands there, unmoving, as Claire is about to disappear behind the bathroom door. Before she does, she looks at him once again.

“You’re just Aidan’s fantasy because he’s sick,” she adds. “You’re not a real person.”

And then the door slams shut.

Aidan has been ignoring Justin for nearly the whole week at this point. And, since there is no Aidan, there is no Brian either, which is absolutely agonizing.

Justin has to see him again to at least to let him know he is sorry. And he has no way of contacting Brian directly, so on Friday afternoon Justin is doing exactly what he wanted the whole week prior: standing right on the Italian carpet in the middle of his boss’s office, demanding an audience with his boss’s alter ego.

He is not sure if Brian would be offended to be called that, too.

“Justin,” Aidan answers in his usual gentle tone, which now seems a little bit patronizing. “I don’t even know what happened. However, as I said, if you and Brian-”

“We haven’t fucked,” Justin cuts in, immediately catching up on what Aidan is getting to. “Actually, you know why?”

His voice is way too loud, so Aidan gestures a soft opened palm at him.

“Because he didn’t want to upset you,” Justin hisses.

“I’ll make sure he knows I’m grateful,” Aidan is quick to give Justin a brief studied smile in return. “As you can see, Justin, I’m busy, and-”

“Have him out,” Justin demands. “Do it.”

“I can’t just-”

“Have him out!”

“Justin!”

Justin is determined. Probably as determined as he ever was, because he actually brought one of Cynthia’s letter opener knives along, hidden in the pocket of his jeans. He squeezes it in a nervously sweaty grip as he gives Aidan one more chance.

“Please, Aidan,” he asks instead of demanding this time. “Just for a little while.”

“Why is it always him?” Aidan frowns, getting up on his feet, and walks towards Justin slowly, seemingly with no intention of becoming Brian any time soon. “What do you all see in him? And you, Justin, you specifically, you don’t even know him. Why do you want him so bad?”

Justin doesn’t have an answer to that. Both men share one body, and Aidan is way more sophisticated, educated and delicate, yet at the mere thought back to that kiss he and Brian shared, Justin’s knees get week. As for the thought about calling Brian not real, he feels so much guilt he can barely stand it.

“I’m sorry, Aidan,” Justin mutters right before he whips out his letter opener and slices his left palm just below his thumb with absolutely no hesitation. “There, you have to get a good look.”

Driven by determination and the adrenaline, Justin probably pushes the knife in too hard, because the cut seems way deeper than he anticipated. Quick threads of dark, thick blood stream down his hand, circle around his wrist and soak his sleeve. A few persistent drops eventually get on the poor Italian carpet.

“Good God, Justin!” Aidan gasps and Justin watches contently as his face gets paler. “For the last two weeks you caused more mess in my office than I had the whole year.”

“First time it was Cynthia,” Justin corrects as he holds his bleeding hand out. “Are you looking?”

Aidan probably realizes that it’s way too late for trying to put up a fight or even pull out a handkerchief, because all he does is step wobbly backwards, holding on to his desk, and seize all attempts to speak. Meanwhile Justin gets a better look at the cut himself.

It doesn’t look good.

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hears Brian roar. Glasses drop on top of the table. One, two, three muffled steps get closer and finally a pair of warm hands encircles Justin. “I know you’re blond, but this is next level stupid.”

“Cheap shot,” Justin sobs against Brian’s shoulder and holds the bleeding hand away, trying not to mess with Aidan’s Prada shirt. “Brian, I-”

“Save it for later,” Brian interjects as he releases Justin and buries his long fingers into the knot of Aidan’s tie on his neck. “We’ll tie you up.”

“Not the kind I had in mind,” Justin giggles as his blood still trickles on to the carpets. He also ends up messing the Prada shirt anyway. “But go on.”

Brian gives him one strange pissed-off-but-also-turned-on look, and finally pulls off the tie. Justin feels a whole lot better just by finally having him around.

“You have your own place?” Justin asks breathlessly, lips still burning after being devoured by Brian’s. They both step out of the Jeep.

“I hate his fucking mansion,” Brian shrugs. “So, we got this. Sometimes he crashes here too.”

The building is tall and looks boring on the outside. They reach the top floor - and even manage not to make out in the elevator - before crossing the doorway of a spacious, stylish loft. Way less room than Aidan’s place, but so… Brian. Black and blue and white. Tile and wood. Justin giggles slightly when he spots a huge bed on a god damn pedestal.

“Want anything?” Brian queries casually as Justin tosses his jacket off.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“You nearly bled to death.”

“Why did you really bring me here?”

“You nearly-”

“Brian.”

The name rolls off of Justin’s tongue for the first time - Bri-an, the sound is bright and jingly like a new round golden sovereign - and Brian steps hastily towards him. Before his lips are crushed by Brian’s, Justin has just enough time to make a mental note for himself: personal validation and extra attention to him being his own separate personality makes Brian extremely content (and hard at that). Even if it’s just calling him by name, which is not what a lot of people really do, Justin thinks.

“Would you do it while I fuck you?” Brian rasps, hands already under Justin’s shirt.

Justin steps back-back-backwards in Brian's arms, and then his back meets silky sheets as he lands flat on the bed.

“Call you by your name?” he asks after regaining some of the breath knocked out of him and gets a nod for an answer. He flashes Brian a cheeky grin. “Depends on how good you are.”

Brian seems to take it as a challenge, he also seems to never half-ass any challenges. Because later, while Justin is on all fours being nailed into the mattress, it feels like his own limbs are about to give out. Brian has a gloriously thick hard cock which is now buried balls deep inside Justin’s ass, he is also relentless, fierce, and not at all gentle (which was never a Justin’s thing anyway). He trusts hard, he manhandles Justin however he pleases at whatever moment he wants, and he slaps Justin’s needy hands away, not allowing them to touch neither Brian nor himself. Sometimes he holds Justin’s wrists firmly above his head, and the look in his eyes becomes completely primitive and feral then.

At some point he scoops Justin’s body up, holding him across the chest and sits on his heels to push upwards, and it’s the moment when Justin can’t take it any longer.

“Please,” he moans. His head lolls back at Brian’s sweaty shoulder. “Please, Brian.”

“Please what?” a hoarse whisper burns his ear.

“Brian,” Justin doesn’t manage to say anything else coherent. Brian only lets out a ragged chuckle in response.

Justin’s thoughts entangle into one chaotic knot of “Brian-Brian-Brian” as he completely loses his vision and his knees tremble. He wants to whimper, or scream, or laugh, but instead he just goes limp in Brian’s arms when orgasmic shudder comes over both of them, taking the last sanity Justin has left, if any.

“Hot,” Brian drawls when they both lay down, replete and barely able to move. “Worth Aidan throwing a fit.”

“He won’t,” Justin replies, resting his head on Brian’s wet sticky chest. “He thought we already fucked, actually.”

“Nah, he was bluffing,” Brian reaches for a cigarette. “He really likes you.”

“Don’t you feel bad?”

“Would you rather I didn’t fuck you?”

“Touché.”

They lay still for some time; Justin’s eyes lazily trace the twirls of blue smoke in the thickening evening darkness. The blissful post-orgasmic emptiness of his mind slowly fills with thoughts again, one by one.

“Brian?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you come up with the name?” for a quick second, Justin is scared of offending Brian again, but the man only sighs - his chest heaves under Justin’s cheek - and scrubs his chin with a cigarette still squeezed between his fingers.

“I don’t know,” he eventually tells Justin. “I was five, it seemed cool.”

“Does anything make you go away?” Justin runs his finger gently around Brian’s nipple. “You know, like blood for Aidan. Are you afraid of anything?”

“No,” Brian seems to be patient with Justin now, going along with the questioning. Maybe because he did fuck him this time. “That’s the point. I was- I am here to protect him. What good would I be if I’d stop fronting when shit happens?”

Justin feels a pang in his heart and hastily lifts his upper body on his arms to crawl closer, face to face with Brian.

“Don’t say that,” he is serious. And not only because he’s sorry. “You are a person, Brian. You aren’t here for anyone, you just… are.”

And Justin believes it as he says it. After all, being a part of Aidan doesn’t make Brian a fantasy or any less real than Aidan is. If it wouldn’t have been for their abusive father, they would probably have grown up merged as one person, having a single well-balanced personality.

Justin thinks for a second who would that person be. Nothing of enough substance comes to mind, and then Brian’s long-lashed eyes run over Justin’s face quickly before he pushes up and kisses him. His mouth tastes like wet smoke.

“Does Aidan smoke?” Justin goes back to settle on Brian’s chest, afraid of losing the moment for more questions.

“No,” Brian says simply. “He tried countless times to get me to quit. He still throws all of my stashes away when he finds them.”

That makes sense, because Aidan is a vegetarian and jogs every morning and is subscribed to magazines about meditation. To think of it, Brian was right. Aidan is boring.

“Has he ever been to a therapist?”

“As in has he ever tried to get rid of me?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“He was about to once,” Brian groans softly as he shifts his body under Justin for more comfort. “Went to a local shrink while trying to make up a thousand excuses for me not to get mad.”

“Did you?”

“Get mad? Maybe,” Brian’s hand instinctively finds its way into Justin’s hair, and Justin himself all but purrs at the touch. “Anyway, the shit we have is apparently kind of rare, so after an hour of being treated like a lab rat by the so-called therapist and me making fun of him in the process, he gave up.”

“Have you ever tried to get rid of him?” Justin presses his head tighter against Brian’s chest and feels a calming, muffled sound of his steady heartbeat.

“I wouldn’t be able to hold his job if I did.”

“How do you know that?”

“Justin, I’m good at beating people up and fucking,” Brian’s tone breaches the threshold between ‘I’m tolerating you because I had a good fuck’ and ‘I’m annoyed at you because the good fuck was too long ago for these kinds of questions’. However, he continues: “Well, okay, I’m also slightly more fun than Aidan, but that really just about covers my superpowers.”

“Don’t talk yourself down,” Justin frowns as he catches Brian’s palm and brushes his lips softly against it.

“Okay, I take that back,” here goes the joke, Justin thinks. “I’m not just good at fucking, I’m amazing.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“Would you argue though?”

“Not after today, no.”