The big difference between sex for money and sex for free is that sex for money costs less. ~ Brendon Francis

*****

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

The snow had stopped falling yesterday afternoon, the weather had since warmed to forty-one degrees and the city of Chicago did what Justin referred to as, ‘Magic Melting and Moving'; resulting in the snow being nearly completely cleared from the streets and sidewalks overnight. Brian wanted to put a call in to Mayor Deekins and tell him that the city of Pittsburgh needed to take some cues from Mayor Daley on how to manage a snowstorm appropriately. 

Last night, after fucking Justin and passing out minutes after, Brian awoke to use the bathroom. After he pissed, he peeked out their frosty window before climbing back in with the warm, sleeping blond. The snow still covered everything; it glistened in the streetlights and the city looked quiet and peaceful. The weatherman had predicted a rise in temperature overnight, a whole seven degrees, but Brian hadn't noticed any melting, plowing or salting at that point. 

Even with the temperature rising, he never thought that he would wake up and actually be able to drive anywhere, let alone walk down the sidewalks. The air smelled cold, the salt sparkled like glitter on Babylon's dance floor, coating the streets and sidewalks, crunching underneath their shoes as they walked. Though the temperature was still extremely cold, the wind for once barely blew and the sun shone brightly, nearly warming the chill on his exposed face.

When Justin had told Brian that they would need to park his rental car in a parking garage seven blocks from his apartment building, Brian almost asked Justin why, but deep down he knew the answer. As they exited the vehicle and started their trek out of the structure, he told himself that he had to leave the car there because there was no parking near where Justin lived. The first two blocks West, Brian thought that perhaps there was truth to his veiled assessment. One block South and Brian knew exactly why Justin didn't want to take the car all the way to his apartment.

He tried, he really, really tried not to show his absolute disgust and the little bit of fear that bit at his nerves, but he didn't do a good enough job. Justin was extremely observant, and where it concerned him he was even more so.

"This is actually nicer than where I live," Justin mumbled to Brian, drawing his scarf tighter around his neck.

Brian didn't notice the cold; there was so much more to be aware of as they continued to weave through sidewalks and trash-filled still icy alleyways. He was surprised, if that's the right word, to see the obscene amount of poverty that surrounded them. Many times Brian had been to Boystown, but he'd never been where he and Justin were. The more they walked, the worse it got. The weather didn't keep anyone inside and he knew that he and Justin stood out like sore thumbs in their designer apparel. They were walking targets for a mugging and when Justin pointed out his apartment building, Brian had to force himself to walk inside with him.

He'd lived in some shitty places when he was just starting out at Ryder, but none of them could hold a cock to the roost Justin called home. The front foyer smelled like a mix between liquor and dirty diapers. Brian finally let out a semi-relieved breath when he saw Justin re-locking the four locks on the large wooden front door.

Justin grabbed Brian's hand and pulled him up the stairs toward his apartment on the top floor. "Be quiet," he whispered, "my neighbors go crazy if people are loud in the hall."

Brian leaned away from the rusting, paint-chipped, disease-infested metal railing beside him. He had lost all dignity four blocks back and didn't care that he was holding onto Justin's hand tighter than any man should. The flights of stairs seemed to go on forever and the only good thing about Justin living on the top floor was that it got warmer the further they climbed.

"You don't have to be quiet now," Justin said, releasing Brian's hand and taking his key ring out of his coat pocket once again. "I'm the only one on this floor for now, just don't stomp your feet."

Brian didn't exactly feel like talking, so he just nodded and followed Justin down the hall to the end. They reached a rusting metal door and Brian smiled to himself, amused at how much it looked like the one for his place.

"What?" Justin asked, noticing Brian's grin.

"I practically have the same door for my loft," Brian explained.

"Just not with the six locks," Justin assessed and laughed as he slid his door open.

"And different décor inside," Brian couldn't help but add as they walked into the small space.

"I'm sure," Justin laughed, closing and locking the door after Brian. "By the way, don't bother taking your coat off."

"I wasn't planning on it," Brian answered, looking around the stale space.

"I'm going to use the bathroom and then we can get started. It shouldn't take long," he promised Brian. "I really only have to get a few things."

Brian shrugged and looked around the room that doubled as a half-kitchen, half-living area. The hallway outside of his house looked bigger and cleaner. He could tell that Justin had done the best he could with what he had, but Brian couldn't imagine even touching the rusty, dripping faucet. There was a plaid couch whose seats were covered with an old Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles blanket sitting almost against the wall across from the kitchen, and a small coffee table that was much too large in scale for the sinking couch was placed in front with a table lamp sitting in the middle of it.

There weren't drapes covering the two large floor-to-ceiling windows; instead there were four blankets, two sewn together on each end and what looked like staples holding them onto the wall at the top. The blankets were so thin they did little to hide the light coming in; he wondered if this was Justin's way of hiding from the world that he lived in, at least for a little while.

"You wanna help me?" Justin yelled, not bothering to flush the toilet before coming out of the bathroom. Usually he had to stick his hand in the back of the water tank and pull the chain because the latch had broken, but since he was never coming back to his apartment and he wasn't going to bother his landlord about his two-hundred dollar security deposit, he didn't really care.

"Sure," Brian said, walking a few feet into the tiny hallway and following Justin into a room on the right.

Justin's bedroom looked much nicer than the rest of the apartment, though the window ‘drapes' style followed in kind. His bed was a tiny twin that he was positive felt as uncomfortable as it looked, even with the ten blankets Justin had covering the thing.

Justin grabbed a large backpack and an army duffle from under his bed. He handed Brian the backpack and directed him, "Can you get everything out of the nightstand drawer and put it in there? I'm gonna get the stuff from my dresser."

"Sure," Brian said, taking the black backpack. He took a chance and sat on the lumpy bed, unzipping the bag and pulling on the broken hinge of the wooden drawer. All he saw inside were sketchbooks, pens, pencils, erasers and crayons. Everything was neatly stacked and arranged to fit perfectly in the small drawer. He started with the small stuff first and put them into the front zipper compartment and then began adding the spiral sketchpads to the larger part of the bag.

Justin had packed his three large sketch pads that he kept at the bottom of the largest drawer into the bag first. Then he began to go through his clothing. Everything he owned now, not counting his sleepwear, was bought for the sole purpose of entertaining men. It sickened him to see how deep he'd entrenched himself into prostituting his body. He'd believed that it wasn't affecting him, pretended that it was all an act, but it wasn't.

He, Justin Mathew Taylor, had picked out the shiny black pleather boy shorts, the pleather vest and feather/pleather paddle that was tucked on the inside pocket of the vest. He remembered that after two particularly good nights, his boss had suggested he buy clothing that was more erotic and his pay would get better because he would give Justin ‘better' men, and it did.

He showed off his ‘leather' outfit and was immediately booked with an old guy who loved to pretend to be a leather Daddy. Justin liked the outfit, it was a costume for him to hide in, and from then on, Justin bought a new slutty outfit every week.

His customers didn't always want a ‘scene', but being the favorite to be booked in case someone did was a plus. Justin had shown up at Brian's hotel room in the most normal clothing he wore to meet men. He did this partly because he'd been to the hotel previously and knew what he could and couldn't get away with, and also because Brian was a last-minute call he'd gotten seconds after finishing his last ‘date'.

Justin had ditched the ‘sailor boy' costume he'd worn for his last trick in the man's hotel room and put on his street clothes intending on going home when the call came. Justin couldn't believe how close he was to not answering the call that night. But he knew that Luke was working as ‘secretary' and wouldn't call him unless it was for a decent amount of time and money.

"Do you need help?" Brian asked Justin after he finished packing the backpack. He noticed that Justin had barely moved in the last few minutes, but he didn't want to interfere with his emotions or, god forbid, deal with any trepidation the blond might be having.

Justin threw the clothing into the drawer and slammed it closed. "No. I... I don't need anything else here."

Brian looked at the bag Justin was slinging around his shoulder and raised one eyebrow at the younger man. "You hardly have anything in there," he observed.

Justin shrugged and took Brian's leather gloved hand in his own once again. It was the only kind of leather he wanted to be in contact with again. They were real leather gloves; they didn't smell like cheap sex. They had a rich musky smell to them and though he didn't want to take Brian's money, he would have to ask the man to splurge and buy him some when they got back to the hotel.

Brian followed Justin, feeling confused as to why the artist was leaving what little possessions he had. "Are you okay?"

Justin nodded at Brian and dropped his hand to unlock the door. "I'm great!" he affirmed.

"But you're leaving all your clothes, Justin," Brian protested in horror.

"I'm going to be Justin Kinney," the blond said quietly. "I like the clothes you bought me, Brian," he spoke a little louder and slid open the door. "I'm not... I'm not a whore, and that's what all that stuff was. It's costumes and slutty clothes that made me look like a hot little hustler boy."

Brian had never discussed Justin taking his last name, but as he brushed past him and walked into the hall, he repeated the name over and over again in his head. Justin Kinney, Justin Kinney, Justin Kinney. Brian didn't mind it, and though it was once a last name he wasn't proud of, he'd changed that idea now and his son carried the name too. Kinney was a name to respect and Justin had earned this the first night he met him.

"Goodbye and good riddance," Justin said, closing the door and locking it back up. He turned on his heels, the keys jingled in his hands as he walked over to a mail slot, his steps quick and light. He threw the keys into the box, smiled over his shoulder at Brian, and announced, "Done!"

Brian gave him a long look right into his blue eyes and grinned back at the blond. He saw something he hadn't ever seen in Justin's eyes before, something he didn't think he'd ever seen in his own, it was unmistakable - hope.

Brian didn't exactly know what to say to Justin, especially because it felt like there was a frog in his throat. So he just shouldered the backpack closer and pulled the boy against him, hugging him tightly from behind and kissing the lobe of his cold ear, allowing his breath to warm Justin's skin.

Justin turned around in Brian's arms and giggled triumphantly. He was terrified of what lay ahead for him in Pittsburgh, apprehensive about how exactly he and Brian would survive a marriage and divorce, but happiness trumped all the worries at the moment. He stood on his tiptoes, carded his mitten-covered hands under Brian's sock-hat and pulled the man toward his lips.

Brian opened his mouth for Justin and surrendered to the boy's searching tongue and undeniable need for dominance. He crushed the blond as close to his body as he could get him, placing his leg in between Justin's thighs, moaning his appreciation when he felt Justin's hard dick pressing and rubbing against him.

He didn't close his eyes, though Justin had; he watched and allowed the blond to use him for gratification. The cold, the smelly hall and dirty walls disappeared from his line of sight as well as his line of thinking. Brian kept on kissing, supporting Justin through the sudden outburst of happiness, lust, excitement and then relief; the relief that crashed into him from Justin's quaking body, throaty moan and absolute freedom.

Justin cried afterwards, or it might've been before or during his orgasm, he really didn't know. He momentarily felt embarrassed when he heard his huffing breaths and whimpers echoing in the hall, but Brian never tried to move away from him. Brian stayed still, holding him so close until he calmed; Justin never felt foolish.

Justin straightened himself and hesitantly stepped away from Brian and picked up the army duffle he'd dropped beside him at some point. His mittens absorbed his tears as he quickly wiped them away before they froze to his face. He didn't care that he'd just came in his pants like some kind of kid and Brian didn't seem to care either. In fact, Brian didn't press him about his emotions; he didn't look at Justin any differently than he had when they first started kissing. He just nodded at him and gestured for him to walk in front of him and that was that.

They weren't uncomfortable in the silence that accompanied them down the flights of stairs, through the alley and along the street. Neither man was thinking or trying not to think about Justin's emotional overload. Brian was glad that Justin wasn't sniffling and apologizing for it and Justin was thrilled that Brian wasn't asking questions or checking to make sure, he was all right.

"The car made it," Brian observed, breaking the silence as they found the rental vehicle.

Justin opened the back passenger door and threw his duffle in while Brian did the same with the backpack. "It's not like you would've had to pay for it if it got stolen, you had insurance, but I figured it'd be safer here than..."

Brian kissed Justin soundly to shut the boy up, walked around to the driver's side, and got in. "Come on," he hollered, starting the car and blasting the heat.

Justin quickly jumped in and buckled himself. "So," he said, rubbing his hands together in front of the heater, "where to now?"

Brian looked at the clock on the dashboard. "We both have to meet with that fucking wedding coordinator for dinner, right?"

Justin nodded. "Yeah, at seven o'clock and you're not going to try and get out of it."

Brian laughed at the blond as he backed out of the parking space and began to drive. "I wasn't," he protested. "It's two now," he said, "and I'm hungry."

Justin was surprised to hear Brian actually say such a thing. The man ate so little that Justin wondered how in the hell the man was able to keep up his stamina on so few calories. "I could eat," he answered.

"Is there one restaurant you've always wanted to eat at that no one's ever taken you to before?"

Justin nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yeah!"

"What's it called?" Brian asked hesitantly.

"Weiner's Circle," Justin laughed as he spoke the name.

"Oh nooooooo...." Brian groaned as they got to the lowest level of the parking garage. 

"You said anywhere," Justin pouted, crossing his arms dramatically and pushing his bottom lip out.

"Put it into the GPS," Brian relented. "And it better be fucking good."

"Oh, it will be, Brian." Justin found the name on the GPS and quickly pushed the ‘go' button. "I hear this place is the fucking shit!"

Brian looked at Justin skeptically but followed the navigator's direction and made a right.

*****

"Are you really not going to talk to me, Brian?" Justin whispered as he massaged Brian's shoulders.

Brian shrugged and continued to read his newspaper.

"I didn't think they'd actually do it during the day," Justin said truthfully.

Brian glared up at Justin for a moment and flipped to the next page.

"I really am sorry," Justin said, kneeling down and pushing his head under the newspaper so he could crawl between Brian's legs. "I'll give you a blowjob if that'll make you feel better," the blond suggested.

Brian hunkered down in his seat a little more and with a bored, put-upon sigh, he threw the newspaper to the side and unsnapped the top button of his jeans. "You owe me like a hundred blowjobs."

"I'll call it even," Justin replied. "Truce?"

Brian folded his arms behind his head and spread his legs wider. "We'll see, after I get this blowjob. Then you'll have to give me a vanilla shake with that ass."

Justin pulled the zipper of Brian's pants down and then yanked on both the jeans and underwear tugging them down. He grew frustrated when Brian wouldn't lift his hips to help him discard the pants. "Brian," he complained.

"Just take my dick out of my boxers," the older man said slowly. "I'm sure you can suck on it like that."

Justin sighed, "But the zipper will scrape agai..."

"TWO CHOCOLATE SHAKES!" Brian interrupted, pushing Justin backward onto his ass as he stood up, walked from the living area, and marched into the bedroom.

Taking him to Weiner's Circle was payback for yesterday, when Brian had made Justin believe for almost two hours that he'd told Debbie that he'd been seeing Justin all along and hadn't told them the truth. Worse yet, he'd said that the reason he didn't tell them the truth was because he wanted his family to believe that he found true love. He wanted his family to be happy, to be proud of him. Brian had said it all so convincingly that Justin couldn't be mad about him lying to them.

Justin had freaked out and started asking Brian all kinds of questions and developing a tale of love and devotion that sounded so ridiculous, it could quite possibly be true. Brian fed the flames and kept Justin talking, planning plan after deceitful plan, until finally he just started laughing like a mad man and told Justin the truth. At that point, Justin didn't know what to believe.

Brian was able to convince him that he really had told Debbie the truth and went on to confirm that the way he told Justin was exactly the way he had told Debbie. After Brian's meeting with Randall Lewis, he'd called Debbie and an hour after that Brian had talked to nearly every member of his family. He told the exact story, their story,' countless times, assuring them that yes, they would have free air fare and hotel accommodations and that yes, if they kept it quiet they would have another vacation coming to them.

Afterwards, Justin demanded that Brian pay for what he did with his ass. However, Brian was truthfully very sore from the previous night so Justin took pity on him and gave his ass the rest of the night off. He'd silently vowed that he would get payback some way or another and the opportunity presented itself perfectly with Wiener's Circle.

A black woman talking trash and cussing the most high-strung and meticulous man in the world had been hilarious; especially when Brian had asked to talk to the girl's manager. It got worse when the manager cussed Brian out and called him a straight man and Justin nearly pissed his pants when the owner said he could make it up to him if Brian would buy both him and Justin a chocolate shake.

Brian thought it was an odd way of making amends and desperately wanted to leave the restaurant when Justin spoke up and begged to stay and then he himself handed over the money for the chocolate shakes. Justin wished so badly that he could've gotten the entire thing on tape. It was by far the funniest thing he'd ever seen happen in his life and the most torturous for Brian, which of course made it all the better for him.

Justin knew that Brian wasn't as mad as he was letting on. The push was playful, a minor foray into foreplay. Justin felt extremely confused; he wouldn't have thought that ‘Justin's been a bad boy' could be a game that intrigued him. Every sexual experience before Brian was so far from his experiences with the brunet. Justin felt like everything new they did together was new to him even though he'd done so much more with other men. He even got the feeling that it was like that for Brian too, though he could never be sure.

Now, Justin desired the playful sex and wanted to know what it would be like to experiment with the brunet, but he felt uneasy about feeling so comfortable with Brian. He and Brian were on the verge of engaging in a fake marriage. Even if Justin managed to keep their arrangement strictly as a business deal, his life was going to change and he couldn't stop the friendship that was building between them.

Friendship? People don't fuck their friends. People don't kiss their friends the way they kissed one another. They definitely didn't ache to be fucked by their friend. Justin wondered what the outcome would be if he continued to fuck Brian. He suddenly had to stop, if he was going to make it through this marriage and come out of the divorce unscathed, not constantly wanting Brian; he would have to stop it all now.

Slowly he walked into the bedroom and bit his lip between his teeth when he saw Brian. The man lay on his back, his eyes closed as he lazily stroked his erection that curved up toward his belly. His jeans were unzipped and his sweater was pushed up above his belly button. The picture before him tempted Justin to forget his decision.

Brian heard Justin's heavy footsteps as he walked into the room. He abstained from showing any signs that he knew the blond was watching him. Brian waited for Justin to either speak or get in bed beside him. He waited...and waited....and waited.... What the fuck? Brian thought in aggravation. Could he get a better invitation to suck me off?

After waiting in silence for a few more agonizing minutes, Brian felt his cock begin to lose some of its girth and he could hardly control the steady glide of his hand around it. He didn't hear Justin leave the room, but he couldn't be sure so he opened his eyes. Justin was still there, standing in the doorway and staring at him with a painful expression. It was the last look Brian had expected to see on Justin's face.

A quick, unwanted flash of worry momentarily cracked through Brian's annoyance but he did not voice it. "What are you doing standing there like that? You look like you lost your pussy cat," he snarked and tucked his softening dick back into his pants.

"Shut up," Justin shot back. "We need to talk."

Brian rolled his eyes at Justin and whined, "Please tell me you did not just say that." He reluctantly sat up, put his head in his hands, and groaned dramatically, "We're not even married yet and already you want to talk. Don't you think we..."

"Brian, we have to stop fucking," Justin interrupted, placing his hands on his hips and giving the brunet a firm look.

Brian barked out a laugh and asked, "You're not serious, are you?"

Justin nodded. "I've been thinking about what it's going to be like when we're married and I think it will only complicate things...in the end."

"Things are already complicated," Brian admitted for the both of them. "As long as you don't start thinking that our fucking means anything more than just sex, there won't be any complications."

"Don't worry, Brian," Justin spat, "I wouldn't dream of thinking sex with you or anyone for that matter would ever be about more than just getting off." Justin knew he was lying a little bit, but now that he thought about it, the complications didn't stop at sex.

"Thank God," Brian answered in relief and grabbed his crotch. "Now can we get to the sex, please?"

"No," Justin said quickly, "we can't. I want you to promise me something, first."

Brian crawled to the end of the bed, reached out and grabbed Justin's wrist, pulling the man toward him. "I don't make promises easily, Justin."

Unable to stop himself, Justin carded his fingers through Brian's hair and played with the strands that touched his collar. "I didn't think you did," he whispered in reply.

Brian squeezed Justin's ass and brought the man's crotch toward him. He slid his hands down Justin's back, under his sweater and around to his stomach as he pushed it up. He placed small kisses on Justin's abs and murmured, "What do you want me to promise?"

The attention he was receiving from Brian's mouth nearly made Justin forget what he'd been talking about. It took him a minute to jar his short-term memory and by that time he began to recall it, Brian had unzipped his pants and was in search of his dick. "Brian," he said, placing his hand over the other man's and stopping his motion. "I want you to promise me that after we divorce that you'll still be my friend."

"We're friends?" Brian asked, slipping his hand out of Justin's boxers. He looked up at the blond and saw Justin frowning at him.

Justin pushed away from Brian, and angrily replied, "I guess not." He stormed off into the living area of the suite.

Brian shook his head and muttered to himself, "You're never going to get laid." He smirked when he realized that he didn't have to have Justin to get laid anymore. The city was no longer in lockdown.

*****

Justin wiped the whiskey off his lips and turned away from Brian when the man entered the room. A few minutes after he'd left him in the bedroom, Brian had stalked into the bathroom and run the shower. He stayed in there for almost an hour before going into the bedroom for another half hour. 

Justin imagined Brian jacking off while he showered and only the burn of whiskey and the relaxing feeling it gave his nerves stopped him from making a fool of himself and joining the man. When Brian went into the bedroom, Justin started to drink more. He wanted to forget about his stupid embarrassing request. There was no friendship between him and Brian. Just because he'd let him into his past didn't mean that Brian had to let him into his present more than he had to. Everything was business to Brian Kinney. Each drink Justin took, he reminded himself that his life the past few years had also been all about business and it needed to remain that way.

"Order you some dinner," Brian said, grabbing his coat from the back of the sofa.

Justin turned around and steeled his expression. "Are you goin' to pick up something?"

"You could say that," Brian replied, grabbing his keycard for the room.

"Well I'm not hungry," Justin slurred.

Brian shrugged. "You should get something in your stomach so you have something to puke up in the morning."

Justin rolled his eyes and plopped down on the sofa. "I don't need your friendly concern."

"Whatever the fuck," Brian growled back, taking the bottle of whiskey out of Justin's hand. "But you're not going to drink on my dime."

"Fuck you!" Justin shot up from the couch and pushed Brian's shoulder, causing the bottle to go flying and shattering against the wall. His eyes widened when he saw what he'd done. "Shit, I'm sorry!" he said, walking around the sofa toward the mess.

Brian blocked Justin with his arm and pushed him backward onto the sofa. "Watch it, asshole. You don't have any shoes on!"

Justin buried his face in his hands, feeling justifiably like the asshole Brian had called him. His head swam from the liquor that he had downed and he berated himself for acting like such a drama princess. "I'm sorry, Brian," he said, looking over at the man with a pathetic expression.

"Just keep quiet," Brian remarked. He walked over to the hotel phone, picked up the receiver and pressed the button for the concierge.

"This is Rhonda, the Lewis' evening concierge. Am I speaking with Brian or Justin?"

What is with this fucking hotel and it's pleasantries? Brian asked himself. "This is Brian Kinney, Rhonda."

"How may I assist you, Brian?" the woman asked.

"My fiancé is clumsy," Brian lied. "After pouring us some drinks he tripped over the couch and the bottle of whiskey went flying."

"Is he hurt?" the woman wondered.

"No, he's fine," Brian replied. "But there's quite a mess we need cleaned up."

"Have you two already eaten dinner?" Rhonda asked.

"No," Brian answered quickly and then kicked himself. He knew what was coming.

"Then how about I reserve you and Justin a table at Lane in a half an hour? I can send a cleaning crew up while you're at dinner if that is all right."

Brian wanted to throw his own bottle of whiskey. He clenched his teeth and replied, "That'll be fine. Actually, we're supposed to be meeting with a wedding planner Mr. Lewis has arranged at the same time but I've forgotten his name. When he asks for us will you have him meet us in the restaurant?"

"Of course, Brian. I'll find out that information for you and make sure I tell him when he arrives."

"Thank you, Rhonda," Brian replied and hung up the phone.

"Are they sending someone up to clean up my mess?" Justin asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, while we're at dinner," Brian informed the blond.

Justin stood up from the couch and declared, "I can't go anywhere. I'm a mess."

"You are," Brian admitted, and grabbed Justin's shoes. "Put these on and get into the shower and make yourself less than a mess. We have to meet with the wedding planner, remember?"

"But...but..." Justin tried to voice his confusion but stopped talking when he glanced at the mess and then back at Brian's disapproving stare. "Okay," he said finally, grabbing the shoes and slipping them on his feet.

Brian watched in amusement as Justin tiptoed over the glass and into the bathroom. He couldn't believe that Justin had gotten drunk in a little over an hour. He knew that his harsh words upset the blond, but he wasn't about to start planning any future after their divorce. He didn't know if they'd hate each other when it was all over and he wasn't going to make a promise that he might be unable to keep.

Brian knew that there would be complications in every aspect of their lives, it was inevitable. The knowledge he had of Justin was only a small piece of who he was and there was a past that haunted him in Pittsburgh. Those were guaranteed complications; whether or not Justin would choose to face them, they would infect both of their lives some how. Then there was Brian's own life to add to the mix. Everything would be changing in his life whether he realized it or not. Their marriage was going to be anything but the smooth easy business deal he envisioned and pretended it would be.