Chapter 12 - Resolution.

Resolution: The act of determining upon an action or course of action, method, procedure, etc.; The mental state or quality of having a firmness of purpose.

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Justin's POV

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The warmth of the bed tries to pull me back towards unconsciousness but I’m rested enough and I don’t want to go. I need to be awake to think. Now is a good time, too, since Brian is still sleeping here in bed next to me. My time is up and I need to figure out what I’m going to do.  

This is it - it’s definitely afternoon. In fact, judging by how dark it is outside the windows it’s probably closer to evening than afternoon. I’d told Brian I would stay with him until this afternoon. My time is up and now I have to make a decision. If I really want to go, then I should do it now, while he’s still asleep. It will be easier if I just leave right now without confronting him. The problem is, I’m not sure if that’s what I want to do any more.

I carefully extricate myself from his always encircling arms and scoot far enough away from Brian to prop myself up and look down at his handsome sleeping face. I like it that whenever we’re together it seems like Brian has a need to be touching and holding me. Even in his sleep, he seems to gravitate towards wrapping me in his embrace. It’s very comforting and . . . nice.  

He’s a good man. I could see that from the start. He didn’t have to take me in here. He tries so hard to care for me - make me eat properly, buy me clothing and medicine, even buy me what I need to feel more whole like the art supplies.  

That’s sort of the problem. He’s nice. He’s kind. I like him. I’m even sort of beginning to trust him. That’s always a bad thing.  

You should never trust anyone. If you trust them, allow them inside your defenses where they can see the real you, then you WILL get hurt. I’ve always been hurt when I trusted anyone. I don’t want to be hurt ever again. That’s one of the reasons I’m where I’m at now - living on the streets you don’t get put in a position where you feel the need to trust and that means you will always be safe from the pain.

Well, at least I thought I was safe. Until I somehow managed to pass out in front of Emmett’s store and ended up as Brian Kinney’s ward. Now, like it or not, I’ve started to trust Brian and I’m already feeling like it’s too much. I know it’s only a matter of time now before I get hurt again. Even though I don’t think Brian will mean to hurt me, it’s inevitable. However, I could walk away right now and never look back and the pain I would feel would probably be bearable. If I stay any longer, it will only get worse. But, If I’m honest with myself, I don’t think I want to leave, even knowing how I’m setting myself up for more hurt.  

I let my hand brush over the soft, clean cotton sheets on Brian’s bed. It’s nice sleeping in a warm, safe, clean bed again. I stroke my hand over my stomach. It’s so VERY nice to feel full and to know that it’s likely that I’ll have plenty to eat no matter when I get up. My eyes trail over the pile of clothing Brian took off me when he put me in bed earlier. It’s even nice to have clean, warm clothing again - clothing that I’m not embarrassed to be seen in.

But those are just the physical things about staying here. They are nice but I could, and have, lived without them and I could do it again if I had to. It’s much harder to gauge all the less tangible things about staying here and whether or not I want to give them up.  

I like feeling safe - or at least as safe as anyone can be in this shitty world - but I feel at least physically safe here. No one is likely to come rob me of the few dollars I have left from my last John or knife me for my shoes or jacket. You can never be sure you are safe on the streets.  

I like feeling useful. Working with Brian yesterday here at the loft and today at his office was eye opening. I’ve never felt like my opinions or talents were worth anything. Today, I felt different. It felt like other people cared what I thought and even, maybe, appreciated what I was doing. I even got the impression that Brian was proud of me and what I was doing and saying. That was one of the best moments of my entire life. I can’t even begin to explain how that made me feel - I don’t have the right words to describe those feelings. I liked it a lot, though. I’d really like to feel that way again - it was addictive, I think.

Okay, now for the more difficult admission - I like feeling cared for by Brian. Ugh. That hurts just thinking it. I know how stupid it is to set myself up like this. I KNOW BETTER. But, I can’t seem to help myself. I like knowing he’ll be there to take care of me when I’m scared or having a bad nightmare.  It’s so pathetically childish, I know. But I can’t seem to turn off these feelings either. It feels good to be here with him.

Looking down now on his strong features, relaxed in sleep, I can see every line, every fold of his expressive, handsome face. I can’t seem to get enough of just looking at him. I wish I hadn’t left my sketch pad and pencils at Brian’s office - I would love to draw him right now.  

When I think about leaving him, I get this tight feeling in my chest and I can’t seem to get enough breath. He’s said that he wants me to stay. He hasn’t said for how long though. What if it’s only for a few more days or weeks. He’s never said he wants me to stay forever - and even if he had I wouldn’t ever believe something as ludicrous as that. I’m not that gullible. But, so what? What if it is only for a few more days?  Is it worth it to enjoy a few more days here where I so want to be when I know that the longer I stay the harder it will be when it ends? I don’t know. I just don’t know.

Brian sniffs in his sleep and rolls towards me, automatically reaching out to ensure himself of my continued presence. When his hand brushes against my hip, he gets this sweet, little smile on his lips. It’s a completely unconscious gesture - free of any pretension or guile - and it’s all that was needed to sway my decision irrevocably. I want this. I want to be here with Him. I want this man and I want Him to want me, to want to keep me with Him. I don’t care about the consequences. I want to stay.

Decision made. I’m going to stay. At least for the time being. And I’m going to find a way to make him want to keep me.  

It shouldn’t be too hard. I have been doing this for a living for a while now. I know how to make a man want me. It’s part of my job, right? Well, I’ll just consider this part of the job too - he’ll keep me here and I’ll keep him entertained so that he wants to keep me. It’s just quid pro quo.

Looking down at the beautiful, toned and muscled body, I admit that it won’t really be that hard to force myself to entertain him. The sheet fell away when he rolled over just now and I can see all of him down to that very pretty cock of his. He’s half hard already and I allow myself a moment to admire the long lines of that well shaped and generous cock. If I’m honest, I almost want that part of him too - even though I don’t really have those feelings any more.  

After what I’ve been remembering the past few days about my father, I have a pretty good idea why I don’t have those feelings any more. The goddamned fucker. He’s really fucked me up royally, hasn’t he? I really wish I could feel like that about Brian. If anyone, it would be Him.  

I don’t need that though. I can do this, regardless. I’ve even figured out how to get myself reasonably hard sometimes when a John really wanted to suck me off. I don’t ever really feel it, but I can pretend. And I know that’s what Brian wants, so I can do it for him too. I don’t want to watch him going off with another trick again - funny how that felt so . . . I don’t know, but not good. I can do what I have to in order to keep Brian happy, though. I can be what he wants and give him anything that trick could.  

And then he’ll want me to stay here with him for longer.  

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Brian's POV
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Mmmm. I’m having a really great dream. Ahhhh, yes! Someone with really talented lips and an amazing tongue is worshiping my cock. It starts with a long, slow, wet tongue tracing its way from my balls all the way down to the head. Then the tongue delicately flicks in and out of the sensitive slit a couple times causing my dick to jump and twitch. And, finally, a wet, slippery mouth encompasses all, sucking me in hard and making me hard at the same time.

That's about when I realize I'm not asleep and this isn't a dream. This is Justin. His mop of long, wild, golden hair is covering my crotch, tickling at my belly and along my inner thighs, as his head bobs up and down. Underneath that golden screen, I can feel his full lips hugging along the length of my fully engorged cock, his tongue twirling intricate patterns over the skin of the head, licking and sliding over the hard ridge and stroking along the length of the shaft.

With each bob, my dick sinks deeper into his throat. The sense of suction is increasing. He's speeding up now, too. Ohhh, he's good. Really, really good. Then, all possibility of rational cognitive thought disappears completely as he deep throats me and all I'm aware of from that point on are the rolling waves of pleasure flowing out from my dick to the far reaches of my body. My fingers are curled into Justin's glorious blond locks. My toes are curled into the sheets still covering them. I'm not sure, since my eyelids are closed, but I think even my eyes are curled back into my skull.

That's when Justin, using the utmost of skill, takes me all the way over the edge. At the same time he cups my balls delicately in one hand, sticks a wet, questing index finger from his other hand up my asshole, and starts to hum in the back of his throat as he swallows me deep one more time, wiggling his nose in my pubes when he can't get me any deeper. There's no slow build up, no gradual cresting of waves of pleasure - fuck, no, this feels like a nuclear explosion has just gone off in my gut and I'm shooting so hard and such quantities down his throat that I'm amazed he isn't drowning

It takes quite a while for the neural synapses connecting my brain to any part of my body other than my dick to re-initiate to the point that I'm physically capable of thought or speech. The first thought I manage is 'Man, he's fucking fantastic. That's absolutely the best blow job I've ever had in my long and promiscuous life.'

I don't get to the more rational and questioning, 'What the fuck was that for?' and, 'Why is Justin giving me a blow job, when not more than an hour or two ago he was practically catatonic with fear?', for a minute or so more. I mean, far be it from me to refuse a blow job that fantastic, but something about this isn't right. I'm going to have to clear my head enough to figure out what's wrong very soon. As soon as my breathing is back to normal, I decide.

Justin isn't going to make returning to rational thought easy though. He's already crawling up my body, leaving sweet little wet trails of kisses on my torso. When his lips meet mine and I can taste my jizz on his tongue, I almost forget again what I'd meant to ask him.  

But when he sits up on my chest, wriggling his ass provocatively over my groin with that simpering, unattractive little smile on his face, it dawns on me - this is 'Hustler Justin', not my sweet, unassuming, needs to be cared for and protected Justin. I'm not a huge fan of Hustler Justin - it's just so evidently a fake persona for him. Not to mention that I don't want to be hustled. At least when I'm able to think rationally, that is.

"Hey, Justin. Whoa. Slow down there, Sunshine," I'm saying as I ward off his questing hands, obviously determined to prepare my cock for Act II. "Not that I didn't enjoy the wake up call, but you don't need to do this, Justin. Really. I'm good for now. Let's slow down a bit."

Fuck - Brian Kinney telling a naked twink in my bed to slow down and that I'm not interested in fucking? Are pigs flying outside the windows? Is the world coming to an end? Where is this coming from?

Justin is pretending not to hear though and he's already reaching toward the bowl of condoms on the nightstand with one hand. With the other hand, he’s got a firm grip on my dick and is stroking me, bringing me back to a semi-hard state already, in spite of the phenomenal blow job. If I’m going to stop this, I need to act quickly since I’m already losing my train of thought again. God that feels so good. See, what did I tell you?

“Justin. Stop. Justin!” I finally get his attention by practically crawling out of the bed from under him, toppling him and freeing my cock from his nefarious clutches at the same time. “Please, Justin. Can you just stop for a minute and talk to me? Okay?”

“What’s wrong, Brian? You liked it didn’t you?” Justin simpers some more, crawling on hands and knees after me across the bed. “I know you want this. I watched you earlier with that trick at the Diner. And I heard what Debbie was saying - you didn’t deny it. You want to fuck me. I know you do and you should. I shouldn’t be acting so selfish. So just fuck me already. I want you to. You want to do it. So just do it already.”  

“Shit. This is about that trick? Justin, I didn’t go with that trick to make you feel guilty or anything. I just really needed to get off. It meant nothing. He wanted it and so did I, that was all. You understand that, right?” I’m trying to explain but obviously doing a shitty job of it since it isn’t deterring the predatory twink crawling around on the bed in pursuit of my admittedly willing cock. “Justin, please stop, okay? I can’t think straight with you crawling around on the bed naked like that. Please. Just. Stop.”

“I don’t want you to think ‘straight’ Brian,” Justin jokes. “I want you to think about me. I want you to think about fucking me. Sticking that enormous, beautiful cock up my ass and fucking me. That’s what you should be thinking about, Brian. There’s absolutely nothing ‘straight’ about that.”

I’m finally driven completely out of bed at this point since Justin uses that last ‘straight’ to launch himself at me. There’s definitely something really, REALLY wrong here - I’m scrambling to find my pants, practically running away from a beautiful naked man begging me to fuck him. This is really, REALLY wrong. But I don’t stop to contemplate the wrongness - I simply flee from the scene, practically running towards the kitchen to escape from the terrifying twink and my predictable response if he does actually corner me in my present condition (i.e., hard as a steel rod).  

I grab a bottle of water, thinking to hopefully cool off my libido as well as quench my thirst. I’m panting like I just ran a marathon. Oh, fuck it - drinking the water isn’t working, so I just pull the waistband of the sweat pants I’m wearing away from my body and dump the remains of the ice cold water bottle down my crotch. Which, by the way, does work quite well and relieves my hard on almost instantly. I sigh at the relief I get from once again feeling all rational brain connections fully functioning.  

It may not work for long though, since a naked Justin has followed me out of the bedroom and I can’t help but like what I see. I haven’t really gotten a chance to see Justin fully naked yet. He’s always had at least his briefs on before. And while I could tell he had a nice package, what I see now is more than just ‘nice’. It’s . . . ‘respectable’. And the full effect of that trim, compact body, not an ounce of extra body fat except maybe in the rear on that ample bubble butt of his, along with his lovely thick cock bouncing against his thighs as he walks, is almost enough to counter the ice water still dripping from my pubes.  

The only thing saving me from a return to ‘Rocky’ is the look on Justin’s face. He’s still trying to maintain that affected and ingratiating little smile, which luckily for me, is a complete turn off. Before he gets to me, I decide to take control of the situation instead of letting him continue to run the show. I reach over, grab Justin by the hand and pull him after me to the couch, where I wrap him in a conveniently situated blanket. Once I have the naked Justin factor under control, I sit next to him and, holding both his struggling hands captive in my own, begin to deal with this situation.  

“Justin, why are you doing this? I thought we’d discussed this already,” I start the discussion as soon as I feel calm enough to do it right. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to have sex with me. Not because of you staying here and definitely not because of me going off with some stupid, meaningless trick or because of some mindless drivel Debbie said.”

“You said that if we both felt the same it would be okay,” Justin interrupts, chewing on his lip again in that adorable manner he has when he’s worried or thinking. “I’m feeling a lot better. I know you want this or you would have told Debbie that we weren’t . . . Well, I’ve decided I want this too. I want you to fuck me. So, what’s the problem, Brian? I want to do this for you. Please let me.”

“I’m not sure, Justin. You say you want this, but it just doesn’t feel right,” I try to explain, even though I’m not sure what I’m trying to say, either. “It feels like . . . like I’m just another client you’re trying to service. It doesn’t feel like you want ME. It makes me think that you’re just doing this out of some feeling of obligation or . . . something. I don’t know, but it’s not you. Not the Justin that I want. This is you being a good little hustler and . . . I guess I want more. Does that make any sense?”

“But, I do want you, Brian,” Justin is on the verge of tears again, I can hear it in his voice. “I want to do this for you. I want . . . I want to . . . to stay.”

The last words are said so very quietly that I’m almost not sure I hear them. But as soon as their meaning reaches my consciousness, I feel elated. He wants to stay. He’s not going to leave. That’s . . . that is all I wanted, ever. I’m almost so overwhelmed by this declaration that I let myself get distracted from our real conversation. Almost.

“That’s fabulous, Justin. I’m so happy that you want to stay here, with me. But I told you before that you don’t have to feel obligated just because you’re staying here. I don’t expect you to reciprocate just because you want to stay here. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I don’t expect you to let me fuck you in return. Not until you’re ready, okay.”

“But, I do want you, Brian. I do. It’s just that I can’t . . . I don’t . . . I don’t have those feelings any more. My father . . .” Justin stops and I watch the struggle on this face as he fights for control over what he feels and what he wants to tell me. “I want you to want me. I can be what you want and I can give you anything that a trick could. I want to do this for you. Please let me.”

“Justin, you’re breaking my heart, you know that right?” I say as I once again scoop him into my arms. “I wish I could make this all right for you. I wish I could make it so none of this ever happened. I do want you, Justin. I want you to stay with me for . . . for as long as you like. I want to be with you - in whatever way you can be with me. Maybe we’ll get to the point where there’s more, Justin, but for now, I’m happy just being here with you like this. Okay?”

“I DON’T want you to try to replace a fucking stupid trick - I don’t think of you like that. You are so much more than that faceless trick could ever be. And I hardly ever listen to anything Debbie says to me - so you shouldn’t either. It doesn’t matter what she thinks I need or what anyone thinks my motivations are. You know, that, right? I just want you here and I want to be here for you,” my explanations start to falter, but I’m trying to get this out and be honest and open with Justin, since I know that is what he needs more than anything else.  

“Let’s just . . . take it slow, okay? I want you to be completely comfortable with whatever we decide to do. It’s okay with me if you can’t . . ."

“Shit. I’m hopeless at this, Sunshine. I’m pretty much the last person you ever want to have a conversation about feelings with, you know. My father did his own number on me - maybe not the same as what you went through - but one of my hangups has always been talking about shit like feelings. It’s not ‘manly’ - at least not according to my Pops.”  

“So, we’re both a little fucked up, you know. If you can bear with my shit, I’ll try to do the same, okay? Just, don’t . . . you don’t have to be what you’re not. Not for me or for anybody. And part of that is not pretending to be ready to fuck if you’re really not.”  

Justin is tucked into my side. He’s sniffling a little but not overly upset and I think I’ve finally managed to explain myself adequately. I’m glad he’s decided to stay.  

I’m fucking exhausted by all this emotional bullshit. The world didn’t come to an end though. I talked about my feelings with another man and apparently it’s okay. Fuck. What the hell is the world coming to?