Purgatory - Part 2

Week One.

Brian worked sixty-six hours.

On Monday, he sent the Ste. Blanche Winery file to J.Taylor through the office mail, with the due date of the following Monday circled in red.

In the next couple of days, he easily convinced the three contacts he had made at the mayoral dinner with whom he had phone interviews to join Plexus, and immediately started working on their campaigns. He also started work on the Montrose Linens campaign.

First thing Thursday morning, he met with Julie who had been assigned Montrose Linens to discuss possible ideas. Before she left, she dropped the Ste. Blanche winery file on his desk, saying, “Taylor needs some feedback.”

Brian already knew the design for the labels was perfect, but spent ten minutes admiring it nonetheless. The drawing for the cork-side was lovely. The ad design for the long and narrow vertical space inThe Wine Spectator was breathtaking. The quarter page one for Sunset Magazine was absolutely beautiful. The drawing for the cardboard boxes was simple yet attractive, perfectly reminiscent of the label without being repetitive. The double page size poster, finally, was simply exquisite: Ste. Blanche dancing in the moonlight, her crystal goblet full of wine, her long hair floating behind her, smiling at Dionysus who was watching her, enthralled by the most beautiful sight he’d ever laid eyes on, his own goblet almost empty.

Brian sent a note back down with the file through the office mail. “Perfect. Prepare boards for transport, for presentation 16 Jan. Thank You.”

He wanted to run downstairs and see Justin so badly it made his whole body itch. He wanted to tell him how beautifully brilliant the whole thing was. He wanted to kiss him senseless. Instead he called Celia Secton to invite her to lunch.

On Sunday, he received a call from Lilah. She sounded surprised though very relieved to find him at work, since she didn’t know how else to contact him. Would he meet her for coffee in the Village? The café was next to the Gallery where she would be working beginning two weeks from now. She had come in for a final interview. She was worried about Justin, and since Justin insisted he and Brian were still together…

“We are. Justin just needed a break. The Holidays were intense. How is he?”

“Well, now that he’s moved out again, I only see him at the studio at Pratt, basically.”

“When did he move out?”

“Wednesday. He was sleeping on the couch, and with him coming home drunk every night, truthfully, it’s a bit of a relief… But he is his normal self at school. He’s been painting.” And there, she looked as if she were about to cry.

“What’s wrong?” asked Brian.

“Justin had a new painting,” she explained. “It was so beautiful. He’d worked on it every night last week, and I swear, it was the best thing he had ever done. He finished it yesterday, and I loved it. Everybody loved it. I asked him what it was called, and he said, “Life is beautiful.” And you know how you can sometimes feel things from his paintings? You could. You could feel love, and trust, and fun, and hope…

“And he said, and now for the fun part. And he took his bottle of turpentine and the painting and went outside to the parking lot. I kept asking what are you doing, what are you doing?

“He sprayed the painting, and even though I begged him not to, and Rory begged him not to, he set it on fire. And he just stood there, watching it burn. I was crying, and he held me. And when I asked why he would do this, why he would destroy such a beautiful thing, he said he just wanted to know what it felt like, to take the most precious and beautiful thing you have, and destroy it, just because you can.

“When I asked him why again, he said it hadn’t helped. He still didn’t understand why. And he started to cry. Rory and I didn’t know what to do. Rory told him to come home for dinner, that we all knew something was wrong, and we loved him, and to hang and talk to us. But he just said, thanks, but what he needed was to get good and drunk. And he left. I ended up putting all of his stuff away.”

“Lilah, do you know where he is staying?”

“No.”

“Thanks for calling me. You have to promise me something, though. Do not tell Justin you talked to me. He needs to work through something, and he asked me to stay out of it, to let him handle it his way. And I am. Be his friend when he needs you, be supportive. But Justin is strong. He's gone through a lot in his life. If he needs help, he’ll ask for it. Give him some time.”

Lilah nodded. “Even though he’s been drinking in the evening, he’s been sober and on time to class, and he’s working hard. Andrew said to let it go for now, but that we should have an intervention if it starts messing up his school, or his work. Is he OK at work?”

“I have heard no complaints, and what he puts out is brilliant. Just give him time.”

Brian went home, and looked at his painting. That Justin would deliberately destroy something like that was unfathomable. But that had been his point, hadn’t it. To see what it felt like to destroy the most beautiful, precious thing in the world, just because you can. Brian knew all about that. He could have told him and saved the painting: You hated yourself, and you wanted to die.

Week 2

Brian worked 71 hours, counting the trip to Washington State.

The boards for Ste. Blanche were waiting for him on Monday morning at 6:30, inside their reinforced carrier bag, along with the golf bag like container for the aluminum easels. Everything was in perfect order.

He took Celia Secton out to a small Thai place he liked. He thanked her for her help at the dinner. She had played a big role in making their fishing expedition a success. She adored the freshwater pearl bracelet he gave her, with the emerald clasp (picked by Cynthia, of course). Her eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands. When he had first met her, and disliked her on sight, he had thought all these childish behaviors to be affectations. Now that he knew her better, and had been on the receiving end of her spontaneous support, he realized that they were not an affectation but a true reflection of her childlike approach to life. He now found them quite endearing.

They had a wonderful lunch and he had nothing to gain from it. He knew very well why he was doing this. He was being kind to her for Justin. Because being kind made him feel closer to the man he loved. Brian went back to the office reflecting on the fact that, as unlikely as it could have seemed at first, Celia Secton might even truly be becoming a friend.

Looking at his desk he had a vision of Justin, displayed, a condom in his mouth, and choked back a sob even as he got instantly hard.

Where was he living? What was he doing when not at work? Was he painting again? Did he keep his paintings now? What was he doing to get better?

Brian called Sam.

“Brian here.”

“What’s up?”

“How is Justin doing?”

“Are you checking on his hangover as his boyfriend, or on his work as his boss?”

“Both.”

“Well, I’m glad you guys are partying less. I know you can take it in stride and look like a rose come morning, but last week the poor kid was looking a bit rough around the edges. This morning is not so bad. Just a headache I think. Workwise, well, you have the Ste. Blanche stuff. It doesn’t get much better than that, though what he’s putting out for Alan and that kid’s clothing store, ABClothes, is fucking brilliant. So it’s all good from here.”

“Great.”

“You know, I wasn’t sure if you were going to pull it off, but you guys sure know how to be discreet. If I didn’t know, I’d never guess, that’s for sure.”

The irony weighed heavily on Brian for the rest of the day.

The trip to Ste. Blanche was a complete success. By a miracle never to be explained, Cynthia and he benefited from magnificent sunny weather during their entire visit.

The presentation completely changed the image the Ste. Blanche winemakers had of their own product. Here was an adman from Pittsburgh (the man who had done the Clearlife commercial, no less!), who loved their wine so much he had cold called them to design a campaign worthy of their product. They were completely in love with Ste. Blanche as pictured by Justin, and could not wait to print the new labels. Brian told them repeatedly the name of the young designer, just to hear the sound of it.

Cynthia loved the waterfalls, and the luxury lodge. She managed to drag Brian to the Pike’s Place Market, though he insisted he only really wanted to see the original Starbucks Café with the mermaid on the front actually showing her tits. Justin would love her. He took a picture with his phone to show him, when he came home. Please God, let it be soon.

Week 3

Brian worked sixty-seven hours. He got in the habit of getting to the Gym as soon as it opened, as well, spending another couple hours out of the loft every day.

He went to Essengy every night, and hid out at the third story bar. On Thursday, finally, Justin came, and danced alone for two hours. He drank only water, and when a guy got fresh, slapped down his arm, hard. Brian feasted his eyes on him, hardly blinking so as not to waste a second of the sight of the graceful lithe body, loving him so much. Justin looked so thin. Was he not eating? Was he back at the brownstone? Had he been sick again? When he left, minutes after Justin had, Jeremy stopped him.

“Good to see you, Mr. Kinney. Apparently Justin must feel the same, eh?”

“What do you mean?”

“God, last two weeks he came five times when you weren’t here. He didn’t even dance, and you know how he loves to dance, and when he left, three times he was so drunk I put him in a cab myself, even though he insisted on taking the subway. I’d never known him to drink. It’s real good to see you back. If you want, I’ll call you when he comes. No charge. And I won’t tell him either. I hate to see him depressed like he was.”

“Thanks, Jeremy. Yes. Please call. But the same deal as before. Just please, seriously, don’t tell him, OK?”

“OK.”

Did it mean that Justin had stopped drinking and was dancing again, or was it an aberration? Did that mean he was getting better? Did that mean he was coming home, soon?

Brian attended Alan’s presentation of the fall campaign for ABClothes. (The garment industry schedule was six month ahead of the actual time, since their collections were always three months ahead.) He was selling it as a “reality campaign.” Apparently a young designer in the Plexus Art Department and the makeup artist had painted the kids' faces, then organized a treasure hunt for dinosaur eggs in Central Park while the photographer snapped away.

The kids were having a blast, the clothes proved that they could take the strain, and the view of New York in the background was a fantastic plus. The last few shots displayed exhausted happy children in clothes they had worn all day, except tor the one in the blue hoody, which almost touched the ground. His clothes were drying on a stick, since he’d fallen in the duck pond.

The Art department had digitally added fall foliage from last year to the trees, and used computer enhancements to change the cold January light to the golden one of a fall afternoon. The ABClothes’ representative was in heaven. This ad was going to beat the hell out of the Gap’s and Benetton’s usual paltry offerings, and make moms feel good about their kids, not wonder why they didn’t look and behave like perfect little miniature adults.

Stupidly, at the sight of that blue hoody, Brian’s throat had closed. He could imagine Justin in the park with the kids, in his white undershirt, playing like he did with Gus. He missed him so completely, a physical ache, a constant weight on his heart, a sadness that he couldn’t shake.

As had become his pathetic habit, Brian dragged a futon in front of The Kiss that night, put Justin’s sweats under his head, and wrapped himself up in Justin’s quilt and went to sleep.

Week 4

Brian worked sixty-eight hours.

On Wednesday night, he received a call from Jeremy as he was walking in the door of the loft. He put on some jeans and a long sleeve T and went to watch Justin dance for a couple of hours. He looked so beautiful. He’d had a haircut, and did not look as thin. Some guy flirted with him, and Justin danced with him for a while, but when the man talked to him, no doubt asking him to go to the lounge, Justin shook his head no. The guy insisted a little, and Justin left him to go have some water, then went back to dancing in another area. He left alone and sober, and when Brian left, Jeremy called him a cab with a smile.

Brian just happened to be in Jason Kintzer’s office’s neighborhood, and sitting at noon at a table in the only kosher restaurant around, when surprisingly he ran into Jason himself.

“Mr. Kinney, eating matzo ball soup! Who knew you were a connoisseur of Jewish cuisine!” Jason sat across from him without asking. “Our boy is painting well, isn’t he? I think his last one is especially nice.” He took a bite of egg salad sandwich. “He had me worried there for a while. Did you see the one he wanted out immediately or he was going to burn it? Such a drama queen…” Jason chuckled.

“No, I didn’t. What was that about?”

“Oh, at the beginning of the month he calls me and says, come see this painting right now, please. Can you believe that? So of course, I go, because what can I say? It’s this heartbreaking thing that I can’t even describe. And he says to me, can you sell this, and I say yes, it’s amazing. And he says, take it away then and sell it. I never want to see it again. And I say, you don’t want it in your show? And he says, if I see it again, I’ll burn it. He meant it too. This friend of his says to me as I'm leaving, he’s burned one already… I sold it for 8000. They still have to pick it up. You want to see it?”

“Definitely.”

After lunch, they walked back to Jason’s office. From a storage closet, not unlike those at Pratt, he pulled out a painting, 4 by 4 feet, and put it on an easel.

Brian shivered. It was there if you knew what to look for, though so stylized as to be unrecognizable otherwise. The colors, the lighting were those of his bedroom at the loft, the opened bathroom door dividing the background vertically into a black half and a white half. Horizontally in the foreground were stripes, innocent enough unless you knew what you were looking at: a belt, the light reflecting off the buckle, parallel to the bulge of an erection in black jeans, above the dark grey of his sheets. And there, bright red, a ripped out heart. No, no one but Justin and he would know what those parallel lines were, nor that strange red flower in the grey foreground.

Brian took a step back and let himself feel. Betrayal, pain, rage, sorrow, loss, shame, and deeper, pain again, terrible sadness, desire for death and oblivion, and shame again. Brian was shocked and horrified. This is what Justin felt, every time that scene replayed in his mind. Was this his way to exorcise it?

“Heartbreaking, isn’t it. Thank god that phase is over, I have pictures of two of his latest that he showed me yesterday. Here, take a look.”

Pictures never did Justin’s art justice, but Brian could feel hope and love and celebration and pleasure and fun from the first. He looked at the back. It said, New Year’s Eve.

The second one was so obviously sexual, with desire, and pleasure, and orgasm all over it he was surprised Jason could look at it with this benign expression on his face, then he remembered that he could read Justin’s painting better than most.

It did not have a title. Well, at least Justin had sex on his mind. It had been a month. Never since he was fourteen had Brian gone that long without sex. Three days, perhaps, if he were sick? Though he honestly did not remember any such time....

His body craved Justin’s. He dreamed of him every night, woke up covered in spunk every morning. But he missed his Sunshine’s smile, his laugh, his kindness, his voice even more than sex. He hated not knowing where he was, what he did, if he was happy or sad, what he thought of this or that.

“Justin is working on two new ones right now, and finishing two others, and he wants me to come next Monday to see them all. He says he’ll be done for sure by then, and that one of them is a surprise… He has no idea, you know, that I don’t just drop everything and go see my artists’ art. And I don’t know why I never tell him. He calls, I come running.”

Kintzer laughed. “Maybe because he has given my mother a new lease on life. She's out there having fun these days, not at home smoking too much and waiting to meet her Arthur in heaven. She has joined a theater group, can you believe it? She is great, of course. Well, I assume you are here for the modeling agency, right? Not for the Matzo ball soup. I’ll let you get back to business.”

“Kintzer?”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t mention to Justin that you saw me. He likes to tell me about his art himself, in his own time. I’ve just been so curious lately.”

“Don’t worry. His expo is in two months. I can see how you would be curious, and he can be all hush-hush with his stuff, like that surprise of his. I can tell he’s excited. My lips are sealed.”

“Thanks.”

Friday night he got a call from Jeremy again. He was still at the office. He had been working seven days a week close to ten hours a day for a while now. He ate all three meals there, whatever Cynthia presented him with. She knew something was very wrong, but kept her mouth shut. Coffee would be on her desk when she arrived, and Brian walked her down when she left. She just made sure he ate some protein, and watched him make money for the firm at an impressive rate. If she met or sometimes even talked to Justin, she never mentioned it.

Brian went to the gym and quickly changed into casual clothes. He had been working out everyday, sometimes twice, before work and at lunch. The steam room, he had not visited in a long time.

At Essengy, Justin was not alone. He was dancing with Todd. They were being really silly, having a great time. They were also affectionate towards one another, Todd putting his arm around Justin’s shoulders comfortably as they drank at the bar. Justin putting his arms around Todd’s neck to tell him something while they danced. They didn’t kiss, or go to the back room, but to Brian's chagrin they did leave together.

As he himself left, it suddenly occurred to him where Justin had been staying. He was at Todd’s, of course. They had behaved as close friends, not as lovers. Justin had moved there as soon as Todd had returned from Pittsburgh. It all made sense.

Sunday, Brian was almost alone in the office. On a whim, he decided to call Brandon. Their last contact had not been friendly, but he needed to talk to someone who knew what had happened.

“Brandon”

“Hey. It’s Brian.”

“… Brian. How are you holding up?”

Brandon knew. Brandon knew Justin was at Todd’s of course. He knew they were apart, he knew why. It was such a relief. Apparently, he also cared…

“I’m working a lot. Keeping busy.”

“Must be hard. You fucked up but I know how much you love him.”

Brian had been pacing in his office. He suddenly sat down, feeling exhausted.

“I miss him so fucking much… Brandon, remember New Years Eve? Sometimes I wonder if it even really happened.”

Brandon chuckled. “Yes, Brian, it happened. You ate Justin’s ass for like an hour, and then fucked him. Then he fucked you, and you blew him at the club and you fucked him in the lounge and you growled at all the tricks who came too close, ‘My Sunshine, find your own.’ I’d never seen a guy so in love. And the next day, Justin moved in, and those together, Justin thinks, were the best times of his life.”

“I destroyed it all. In one fucking moment, I destroyed everything.”

“… Brian? Don’t think that. I’m talking to you, aren’t I? We all make mistakes. Yours was …pretty spectacular, and had consequences you did not intend. Even I know that. But you are doing the right thing now. You are giving him what he needs, and fuck knows it has to be hard. I’d say you’re paying for your mistake and more. Concentrate on the good times, Brian. Learn from your mistake, and move on.”

“Brandon? Thanks for talking to me. Life has felt so… surreal. It’s nice to have a reality check.”

“Yeah, well. You may be a prick, but a man I have deep feelings for loves you like crazy, so I guess you must be all right. Plus truthfully, a guy who enjoys eating ass as much as you do deserves special consideration.”

Brian laughed, and it sounded strange. He realized he had not laughed in a month.

Week 5

Brian worked forty-six hours.

On Monday, Brian received the mock-ups for the diaper commercial, an account he had snagged at the mayoral dinner. Diapers were not glamorous, but, like other essential items, were something you did not have to convince people they needed. What you did have to do was get them to pick your diapers over everyone else’s, including the no names ones which were twice as cheap…

He had send down a suggestion of babies talking about how good their diapers felt. Sam had apparently assigned the case to Justin. What would become the commercial, Justin had presented as a cartoon. He had changed the idea of newborns talking to ‘just barely walkers’ talking. He had a dozen young toddlers standing around in their diapers as if attending a party. They held bottles in their hands instead of glasses, and “talked” like snobbish adult.

“Did you hear about poor Adamson? Leaked all over Santa’s lap?”

“ [laugh]. I laugh, but it must have been mortifying.”

“Low quality diapers. There should be a law…”

“A least some regulations. Look at me: I can touch my toes, toddle around, crouch, in short, do my job as the future leader of America, and all without any worries.”

“None?”

“Not a one. I use Greenbabies. And none of that pesky environmental concern. Biodegradable! You have got to love it…”

The whole thing was hilarious. It would be expensive. Hours upon hours of filming would be needed to get the right expressions on the babies’ faces, the right movements. Then there would be a huge amount of time needed to do the montage. They would need actors for the voice-overs, and all those babies, who could only “work” forty-five minutes at a stretch, would also cost a fortune. But in the end, it would be so worth it…

He wrote a note. “Excellent (and funny). Please expand, refine and colorize for 6 boards for presentation to client 9 Feb. Get cost estimate. Thank you. I love you.” He sighed and deleted the last three words before printing and adding the note to the interoffice envelope.

Tuesday, Jeremy caught him at the office again; he changed clothes and went to Essengy. From his usual observation spot, he got to see his beautiful love. Alone, eyes closed, shirtless, glitter on his body. He wanted him so badly; he was hard as a rock. Justin looked so incredibly fuckable. God, he missed that ass. Over a month without sex. He was practically salivating.

Then, Todd and Brandon were there suddenly, dancing, joking and having a great time with Justin. He should be down there with them, he should be joking and dancing, and hugging the man he loved. It was just like New Year’s, except that he was up on the third floor, hiding, and watching the fun from above. He would give his left nut to go back in time and be that happy again, be part of it instead of a distant observer. He couldn’t stand it. He left.

Once at the loft, he allowed himself something he had not before. He lay down naked on his bed, and jerked off thinking of Justin. For a while, he forgot the guilt, the remorse, the shame, and just let himself enjoy the fantasy of fucking the man he loved. Face to face, with Justin’s legs around his waist. From behind, with Justin on all fours. Against the wall with Justin’s ass in his hands, from the front, with Justin’s ankles on his shoulders, folding him in half to kiss him. From behind, covering his body, jerking him off slowly. After five orgasms, he was covered in spunk and felt better than he had in a month. Having no refractory period, he could have kept going, except that his dick was getting sore. He laughed, got up, and showered.

He took The Kiss down from the wall and brought it to his bedroom, balancing it on the panels’ handles like he had before Christmas. He got the folded quilt off the couch, and spread it on his bed. He slept on a real mattress for the first time in a month, and set the alarm for six instead of four. He had the best dream, of him and Justin buying a rug together. When the alarm went off, he remembered his dream. They should. They should buy a huge colorful rug for the loft. It would complete the look, add more color. He smiled, and got ready for the day.

He left the office at the same time as Cynthia, asking her how things were going with her accountant. She smiled and answered she wouldn’t be using H&R Block this year… He laughed, and was surprised when she kissed his cheek.

“It’s good to hear you laugh, Brian,” she said.

At home, he put on his running clothes, and slipped Blake’s dance compilation CD in the player to run to. He smiled, remembering moving day, and Justin wanting to hang his art first. He was just getting into the run, after the first two miles, when his phone rang. He was tempted to let the machine take it, but he had missed two calls from Gus, so he stopped the treadmill, turned down the music with the remote and picked up.

“Kinney.”

“Hey.”

“Justin? Justin! God, Justin! How are you?”

“Uh… Brian. It’s been over a month, and I was wondering if…if you were getting tired of my stuff everywhere, and if maybe you wanted me to take it out.”

“Justin, this is your home. Your stuff belongs here. Even if you were gone a year, it would belong here. Take as long as you need. I meant it.”

“Oh, good. I’m really glad you feel that way because… I’m ready to come home.”

“…When? When are you coming home?”

The front door opened, and Justin was standing there, the phone to his ear.

“How about right now?” he said walking in with a smile that could have lit up the entire island of Manhattan.

Brian hung up the phone, devouring Justin with his eyes.

“Now’s good,” he said.

Then he had an armful of Justin, who was kissing the hell out of him and pushing him towards the bedroom, and dropping whatever piece of clothing he managed to take off onto the floor. By the time they made it to the bed, Justin stopped the kiss and ripped off his remaining clothing. Brian was out of his running clothes in seconds, and they were naked, skin on skin, and it felt so good Brian almost came.

“Fuck, Brian, if your cock is not in my ass in five seconds, I might die.”

Brian grabbed a condom, slicked it abundantly, added some lube to Justin’s hole, and with Justin’s ankles on his shoulders, pushed slowly in. Justin opened up for him, his eyes glowing with love and lust, and closed tight around him once he was in. “Fuck me, Brian, fuck me now!”

Brian started moving and thought he would lose his mind it felt so good. He was inside Justin, he was fucking a very horny Justin. He was looking at the most beautiful man he had ever seen, and had his cock in his ass. Justin, flushed a delicate pink by arousal, was meeting his thrusts, bucking his hips, panting, mewling, wanting more. Brian complied, fucking him hard and fast, concentrating on giving Justin pleasure so he himself would not lose it and come.

“Good! Good! So fucking good! I love it. I love it when you fuck me, Brian. I love it, I love you, I love you, Brian, I’ve missed you so much, so fucking much, fuck, I’m gonna come…” and he did, an amazing amount of come, just spurting again and again from his untouched cock, while Justin’s whole body convulsed in pleasure. It was the most beautiful sight Brian had ever seen, and he watched the blissful look on Justin’s face as he pumped in and out two more times before erupting in long jets of come inside the condom, his whole body shaking in ecstasy.

He collapsed on the bed and they laughed, totally giddy with the post coital glow, the joy of being together and the love that threatened to burst their hearts.

Justin looked at him with that amazing smile. “I have missed you so much, Brian. I am so glad to be home.”

“Life without you is just not any fun, Justin. Let’s not do it again. Let’s be together, and happy, and fuck a lot.”

“Good plan,” said Justin, “and now, I am going to eat your ass.”

He flipped Brian over as if he weighed nothing and pulled him on his knees. Brian was shaking in anticipation, and bit his lip to hold back anything more than a moan when Justin's tongue licked his hole again and again in broad swipes. Then this hot, wet pointy little thing was up his ass, driving him positively insane with pleasure, Justin had obviously acquired a taste for his ass during his last foray in that region because if he kept on like that, Brian would surely die of pleasure, but what a way to go.

Justin was making the most arousing slurping sounds, and Brian could feel him suck on his ass, and realized he was also making a lot of noise and didn’t care. The tongue fucking was brilliant, and his mind started going, all superior brain function stopping to increase the capacity for appreciation of the signals his ass was sending him.

He couldn’t believe it when the doorbell sounded.

“Don’t you dare move,” said Justin, and Brian heard him buzz in whomever it was without asking anything.

Thirty seconds later, Justin’s tongue was in his hole again and he didn’t give a fuck if Justin had just buzzed in the Pope. He was lost in pleasure, floating on an island of bliss and he started craving more, wanting to be fucked, picturing Justin's gorgeous cock in his mind. It took him a minute to remember to vocalize his thought. “Cock, cock,” and he growled in satisfaction when the proof that he had been understood pushed into him. “Gooood.”

Justin was fucking him nice and deep, pulling almost all the way out every time, that big cockhead of his giving his rim a delicious stretch, and sliding over his prostate so as to drive him mad. Then Justin’s slick hand grasped his cock, and Justin was kissing his back, and he exploded in pleasure, coming with a raspy cry, feeling Justin’s cock pulse in his ass.

Justin collapsed on top of him, and it was so good. His Sunshine was home, squishing the air out of him. He laughed out of sheer happiness, and after Justin gently and slowly pulled out, turned over to hold him and kiss him. The painting was still at the foot of the bed, and it was amazing to experience the kiss and see it on the canvas, feeling it twice. They had been making out for a while when he noticed that Todd was next to them, fucking Brandon face to face.

Justin was looking at him with a smile. “I love you, Brian. I love you.”

Brian smiled back. “I love you, Sunshine, so much.” He took a deep breath, feeling free and completely happy, as Justin’s love was all around him, the blue eyes, cloudless and smiling telling him they were both whole, and together and that the breach was healed and the magic was back.

To be continued...