Unlike what Brian had promised, our weekend together was filled with Brian locked up in his office with the Director of Communication, Blake Wyzecki. He planned on announcing to the country that he wanted to be in the office for four more years.

I stayed out of his hair, spending my time with Drew, who was significantly better, the flu almost gone. He showed me various rooms in the house, I doubted I was allowed in, but it helped with the boredom.

On Saturday, I saw Brian exactly twice – in the morning, when we showered together, before he rushed to meet Blake; then we had a late lunch together, but he didn't stay for long, and he was distracted by his phone.

For dinner, Drew took me to a small restaurant, telling me about the amazing fish they served. Fish wasn't my favorite dish, but I had to admit, it tasted decent. We kept the small talk going, mostly him asking facts about Emmett, and in turn, I learned quite a lot about Brian.

He walked me back to Brian's room, knowing I would get lost otherwise.

I waited for Brian until my eyes closed. At some point, I thought I heard the door opening and closing, but I was too tired to check if Brian was indeed back.

Sunday brought dark clouds and heavy snow, which wasn't that terrible a sight for a first thing in the morning. Though, I was distracted by the warm body behind me.

I rolled around slowly, trying not to jostle the mattress too much. When I faced Brian, I was rewarded with a glorious sight.

Brian was lying flat on his back. His mouth was slightly open as he wheezed lightly in his slumber. One of his arms was bent under the pillow, the other was curled over his toned stomach. The blanket was bunched up on his right thigh, leaving little to imagination when half of his morning wood was on display.

I was torn between waking him up with a nice blow job, or sketching him. I opted for the second idea, knowing there would be other mornings when I could wake him up with my mouth servicing his dick.

Halfway through my drawing, Brian moved the hand from his stomach to his dick, stroking lazily. My brain nearly melted at the sight.

From my position at the foot of the bed, wrapped in half of the bedsheet, I hurried to sketch the voyeuristic display in front of me. Being engrossed in catching every detail, I failed to notice Brian's other hand searching for me next to him.

He startled me so badly, I yelped, when he shot up, looking around confused and utterly adorable. His eyes settled on me, then dropped to the pad clutched against my chest.

My heart was about to abandon my ribcage. I couldn't remember the last time I had been so scared.

“Working on your part of the deal, Painter Boy?”

His rough morning voice was going to be my undoing. They would have to put on my tombstone: Killed by the President's husky voice.

Brian sat on his knees, in all his glory, before crawling to me. Yup. He was set to kill me this morning.

He pried the sketchpad from my hands, sparing it a look, before placing it on the bench at the foot of the bed. Then he pounced and I found myself sliding off the bed, but my hips were on his lap. The idea of him fucking me in that position turned me on faster than anything else.

“Brace yourself,” he demanded, probing my hole with a finger.

I was grateful for the bed's poster, clutching at it with a hand, while the other was somewhere on the soft carpet. Of course, when Brian breached me, I excelled at a sort of hip bridge with both my hands firmly planted in the carpet and my hips arched off the bed. Only my legs stayed locked at the ankles behind Brian, who thankfully kept a strong hold on me.

He thrust into me restlessly. I moaned loudly when each time he managed to press into my spot. I needed a hand on my dick, but I was afraid to lose balance, besides, the sweet torture was so worth it. I loved being on the brink of orgasm, unable to reach it. And by the looks of it, Brian loved seeing me like that.

He took pity of me eventually, pulling me up so I was on his lap, limbs wrapped around him. I took charge, moving faster and fast, kissing him sloppily, my fingers clutching at his back. Brian moved one hand under my ass for leverage and one fisted in my hair. After that, I didn't need much more to find completion.

Falling apart in Brian's arms, seeing the blissed-out look on his face, made me realize how lucky I was and that I should cherish every moment I had with him.

I was still waiting for some dark force to pull me away from his haven and back to my dull life.

#

“Seven thousand should do it.”

I stared blankly at Steven. He had never thrown himself at such high amounts of money.

“You get all of it. The money is all yours.” He raised a brow in challenge.

I swallowed hard. “But it's a lot. I've never charged anyone so much. It's not even a full-body portrait.”

“If it were, we'd have charged double this amount.”

“Are you kidding me?” I hissed, not wanting to attract people's attention.

It was a small coffee shop where we met, so pretty much everything we talked could be heard by unwanted ears.

“Are you doing this because of who he is?” I added, before Steven could answer.

“Ah, don't get defensive. I know how you get attached to all your subjects….”

“Are you kidding me?” I repeated incredulously. “Look, Steve…I'm done. For good.”

“What's that supposed to mean? Should it scare me that I'm going to lose you, Taylor? Young, talented artists who want to make a name for themselves are everywhere. They only need an agent to guide them.”

“Maybe I don't need you anymore.”

“Why are you so cool and defensive suddenly? You never complained before,” Steven said, utterly confused.

“You never exaggerated so much with pricing one of my paintings.” I stood up, taking my paper cup of coffee. “I won't charge Brian such an insane amount of money only because he's the—” I clamped my mouth shut, furtively looking around. “Expect a lengthily email from me regarding me quitting this job.”

Steven reclined in the chair, eyeing me amused. “You do realize that if you quit now, you won't get a dime from this painting, right?”

I glared daggers. “I don't give a rat's ass about the money. But you're free to tell Brian about how much you want for the painting done by the artist who just quit working for you. Farewell, Steven.”

“Justin, wait!”

I was already crossing the street illegally, only to be far away from the asshole, so he didn't have a chance to catch up with me.

After the incredible weekend spent with Brian, I returned to my hellish life in shitty Pittsburgh. Steven was in town and he had arranged a meeting for us on Monday morning.

If he wanted to ruin my week, he had managed it brilliantly.

I stormed into the diner close to lunch rush hour, slumping at the counter, on a stool.

“Sunshine!” Debbie waved from near the kitchen, smiling brightly.

“Hi,” I called to her, pulling my phone out. I had no idea how to tell Brian what I had done, but he should know since Steven was going to contact him.

After telling Kiki to place the order for a burger and fries for me, I finally got the courage to tap the name Eagle.

I laughed at seeing our last conversation on the application. It was about Bruce and how he had attacked Brian, making him fall in the snow that now covered the White House's yard. There were even pictures of them on the media.

You should know that I am breaking it off…It's a long story. Let me know when you can talk.

I left it at that, deciding to give him all the details when he called.

“What's with the long face?” Debbie touched his shoulder, making him turn around in his stool.

“This day gets worse by the second.”

“We missed you this weekend. Michael told me some hot guy picked you up.” She winked.

“Ugh!” I covered my face with my hands. “I think Brian selected his people based on their sexual orientation. Ben, the one who thought from moment one that I was after Brian...like I was out to get him killed or something, turned into the biggest softy when he met your son. I had high expectations from Big and Bulky, but it seems that a look at Michael, and he's all ga-ga.”

Debbie laughed, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You should have heard Michael! He couldn't stop talking about this man.”

“Hey, Deb! Is that TV still working?” One customer approached, interrupting our chat.

“Depends on what you want to watch,” she replied, challengingly.

“The President's speech. It's all over the internet that the President has to say something important regarding the elections from next year.”

“Oh, shit,” I gasped.

How could I forget the reason I had to share Brian with his Director of Communication throughout the weekend?

I helped Debbie set the TV. In less than half an hour, Brian was going to announce to America he wanted to be their President again.

I sat next to the small TV, eating my food, with Debbie hovering. I ignored her, since it wasn't my place to say anything. She would hear it from the man himself soon.

My phone vibrated next to my plate. I unlocked it quickly, and choked on my fries.

Why are we breaking up through a text? Don't I deserve more? Is it because I'm running again? :(

“Fuck! Fuck, no!” He thought I meant breaking up with him. I was such an idiot for omitting to say Steven's name. “Can I use the back exit?” I asked Debbie.

When she nodded, I was already dialing his number, running for the exit to have some quiet and privacy.

“Pick up, pick up, pick—” Click. “Brian! I was talking about St—”

“The number you are trying to reach doesn't exist.”

My legs gave away.

I was the worst.

Brian was going to change his mind about running as President again, because he thought I didn't agree. How could he? I had praised his choice at every turn since I found out.

But why shut his phone?

Why did the number not exist?

“Sunshine, it's starting.” Debbie's voice from the door leading to the alley, pulled me from my panic attack. “Everything okay?”

“Not sure,” I mumbled, following her inside.

I took my seat by the TV. There was already live footage from the porch in front of the White House.

Brian was having a heated conversation with Ben and Drew. Then Blake pulled him aside away from the camera's view. I kept my eyes on his bodyguards. Drew was on the phone, and Ben was looking toward the spot Brian had disappeared.

Ten minutes later, he approached the stand. He was wearing one of his dark suits and a beige coat over it. The whole speech was a loud buzzing to my ears, but judging by the gasps around me, Brian had kept his promise. He announced the world that he was running again.

A hand grabbed my elbow, pulling me out of the diner. Emmett was glaring at me, his phone gripped in his hand.

“How fucking stupid are you?”

Oh, figures. Brian confessed in Drew, and Drew called Emmett.

“Justin, you're both such...idiots!” He lifted his phone to his ear. “I have him here. Whenever he can talk, I can pass the phone to Justin.”

“Maybe I don't want to talk to him?” It was a big lie, but I was upset for being shut down before I could explain myself.

We sat on the cold, rainbow colored bench in front of the diner for another fifteen minutes. Then Emmett put his phone in my hand, going inside for hot cocoa.

“Justin?” Brian's strained voice came from the other end of the line.

“No, Santa Claus. Why did you shut your phone? It was a matter of miscommunication!”

“I didn't shut my phone. Ben caught me sending you that last text message. He broke it into pieces, giving me a speech that could conquer my old man's speech when he said I wouldn't get anywhere in life.”

I snorted. “The joke's on him.” I decided to question him about his family another time, because he never talked about them.

“So what were you saying about breaking up?”

“Not us. Oh, you're so considerate and wonderful,” I told Emmett when he brought me a mug of hot cocoa. “Right. That was for Emmett. As for my vague text, I meant that I'm going to quit working for Steven. Whenever I get home later today, I'll write my resignation letter. If he contacts you about an exorbitant amount of money for the portrait...don't give in.”

“We talked about this, Justin.”

“The money won't get to me since I'm quitting. It's up to you if you want to give him seven thousand or not. And if you want to give the money to me, you better accept rejection.”

“But Justin…I won't pay him for someone who isn't working for him, but I will pay someone who poured months of his life into a portrait.”

“I don't really care about the money, Brian. I ended up with something much better out of this – you.” I smiled, hugging the mug of hot cocoa to my chest. “And I'm aware we'll face many ups and downs, but I'm ready to face them together.”

“We're already facing one – our method of communication has been discovered. Though, I confirmed it with Ben that we can use the email.”

“I'll text Drew my email, but make sure to delete it after you save it for yourself,” I said seriously.

“Perfect. I will say talk to you soon, but I don't want to lie. Look, I'm headed for a small press conference. Why did I do this to myself?”

“Because you're the best,” I cheered, making him laugh.

justin.taylor17@gmail.com – use it wisely.