Chapter 13 - Inception.

Inception:  The initial stage of a developmental process.

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Justin's POV

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'. . . 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.'

That's what Brian said. He's still holding me and he sounded sincere when he said all of this. But the words really don't make any sense. How could a man like Brian ever really be content to be with someone and not be able to fuck him.

The few comments I've heard from Brian's friends completely undermine everything he's just said to me. His friends are just waiting till he gets tired of me before they expect to see him back fucking everything that moves. His foster mother believes he's fucking me. Even his best friend, Michael, seems convinced that Brian and I are fucking. Basically, from everything I've heard, Brian Kinney doesn't sound like the type to have platonic relationships.   

So, even if he's sincere now, I figure that's unlikely to remain the case for long. Face it - nice guy or not, if he's not getting his needs met by me, he's bound to move on to someone else who will meet them. Which means I only have a limited amount of time to figure this out. I've decided I want to stay and I'm determined to find a way to work this. Whatever I was doing that tipped him off that I wasn't into this wholeheartedly, well I have to determine what it was and fix it. I need to make Brian want me around as much as I want to stay. I will figure this out, somehow.

"Brian, what if I never can get those feelings back? I really do want to be with you. But I haven't been able to . . . I don't get those feelings any more. Ever. Not since my father . . .” How much do I tell him without completely freaking him out, I wonder. "I do want to be with you, so why is it a problem if I can't . . . you know? You can still do everything you want to me."

"Enough. You're a determined little Twat, aren't you," Brian says, half teasing but also half serious. "Justin, I want you, too. I've never in my entire life had a blow job like that one. And you're about the hottest piece of ass I've ever had here in the loft. I swear that if you were really ready, I'd be on you in no time flat. In fact, I'm probably more surprised than you are that I haven't already jumped your ass, ready or not. I guess I just want to be sure that it's what you really want too. So, please just believe me for now when I say I'm serious about doing this right and taking things slow."

Hmm? He sounds so sincere. Fine. I'll go slow-ish. But nothing says I can't push things a little.  

"You're sure you won't be angry with me if I can't . . ." I ask as unassumingly as possible.

"I'm sure, Justin."

"Does that mean no kissing, either?"

"Do you want to kiss me? I mean, really?" Brian asks, but I can already tell I've hooked him.

"Yes. Please."

And that's all it takes to get Him to start making out with me there on the couch. I won't push it. I won't push Him, because I really do like him and I want to be here. But I'm not giving up on this either because . . . I don't trust him. No matter what he says and no matter that I think he really believes what he's saying right now, I'm not that naive - I know that there's no way this can work if he's not fucking me.  

So I'll find a way to get him to fuck me and I'll make this work. And I won't let myself feel guilty about manipulating him like this. I know better than to trust anyone in this kind of situation. It's just the way things are, right? I have to do this because, the nicer he acts towards me, the more I want to stay.

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Brian's POV

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Excuse me, has anyone seen a dick lying around here? I think I've lost mine. I mean, really - there's this fucking beautiful naked man sitting on my lap, begging me to fuck him and I just told him no? Am I completely insane?  

I can understand that I did the noble thing the first time - despite what some people think about me, I'm not a complete asshole - I would never take advantage of someone in a bad situation just for my own pleasure. Justin was sick and he's been abused and that first time he offered himself to me I can see why I backed off.

I can even see why I did the same earlier tonight - still doing the noble gentleman thing, right? But he's still doing it - he's practically throwing his hot naked litte ass right onto my dick and I'm still telling him no? What is my fucking problem?  

Right now, Justin is sitting in my lap, the blanket I wrapped around him earlier fallen so that it's barely covering one of his thighs. His wiry, strong, yet thin arms are around my neck, pulling me in tighter. His soft, soft, pliant and talented lips are busy kissing me, licking, nibbling at my lips, my jaw, my neck. Remind me why I'm trying to keep my hands from wandering over that flawless, warm skin? Why do I still vaguely feel that I shouldn't be doing this? How the fuck can I think clearly with my hands and my lap full of naked twink?  

I really need to get some space - physically - from this situation in order to think. Either that or I need to throw Justin down on the floor right now and fuck him senseless. No, there WAS a reason I had told him that I didn't want this. I can't remember what that reason is right at this very moment, but I'm not going to let myself be manipulated that easily.

Space. Yes, get up and move away and get some space. That's the first thing to do.  

Food. That's a good excuse. He needs food. We didn't really get to eat much of our lunches, what with him passing out at the Diner and all. So, I'll get up, go get us dinner and get my head a little clear and figure this out. Good plan, Kinney.

"Hey. I'm getting hungry. How about you?" I manage between tongue fuckings. "I should go pick us up some dinner. Justin? Dinner?"

I can tell by the growling of his stomach that I have some part of his attention, at least. I gently extricate myself from his groping hands, sliding him off my lap and stand up, pulling my lips away last of all. It's not easy to pull away from that lusty naked body. Only the tiny alarm bells still going off in a closed chamber at the very back of my brain make it at all possible.

"I'll be back soon, okay. How about another cheeseburger to replace that one you didn't get to eat earlier?"

Justin's nod is all the answer I need. I notice that he's still chewing away on his lip, which means everything is not exactly fine in Justin's world. But, since I'm still apparently dickless, I don't need to struggle too hard against the thought that surfaces telling me how adorable that little habit is, do I?

Returning from the bedroom, now fully dressed, I let my fingers run through his hair as I pass him, still seated nakedly on the sofa. "Later."

I'm not more than a block away, walking because I really can use the cool night air to help clear my head, before I pop out my cell and dial the only person who's had any concrete ideas about this situation so far.

"You've got to help me, Professor. I'm so fucking totally in over my freaking head. What do I do?" I practically cry into the phone as soon as I hear Ben's voice saying 'hello'.

"Is everything okay, Brian?" Ben's tone is full of genuine concern.

"No. It's not okay. I have no idea how to help Justin. I really want to - call it payback for what my own father did or whatever, but I need to do this. I need to help him, but I'm fucking lost here. So, help me, Ben. Tell me at least where to start."

"You did hear me say that I'm not a psychologist, right? And that you probably need professional help?" Ben tries to qualify his involvement.

"Yeah. And you saw his reaction to Michael's suggestion about taking him to a doctor right?" I counter. "I did get him to agree to stay with me for a while longer, but that's not going to make much difference if I can't figure out how to get through to him."

"Well, generally speaking, the approach towards treatment for all types of abuse is to get the victim to work through his fears, process his memories and work through all the pain. There are some specific therapies, especially for the PTSD related symptoms - I'd have to research those a bit more, though. However, the overall treatment is fairly simple."

"What the fuck does all that mean, Ben?"

"You have to talk to him, Brian. Get him to talk about what happened to him and then work through how it's still affecting his life today," Ben's suggestion is simple but so fucking complicated at the same time, damn it. "You could start with what happened today. That was a significant dissociative event - that means it was a 'big deal'. Find out what he was remembering, what triggered it and why he practically passed out from the memory."

“Okay. Talk to him. I can do that,” I offer.

“It’s not that simple, Brian,” Ben is laughing on the other end of the line. “Once you get him to start talking there’s going to be a lot of stress. And you’re not exactly the poster-boy for people who handle stress well.”

“Thank you for the advice, Professor, but I can do without the added commentary,” I interrupt him before he really gets into listing my limitations, but I’m not quite ready to hang up yet either, so I have to remain sort of polite. “So, Ben, what about the other part - you know, what I told you about not fucking him? That would probably be a really bad idea, right?”

“I don’t know, Brian. It’s your call,” Ben is still chuckling, but I can tell he’s serious too. “Adult survivors of child abuse have a really hard time forming stable relationships. They tend to find it really hard to trust their partners. They can be cold and manipulative at times and at other times completely insecure and easily hurt. Plus, they have a very hard time opening up and being accessible with their feelings, which makes knowing what your partner wants and how to please him pretty difficult.”

“Great. So, he’s me, just even more screwed up - is that what you’re telling me?”

“Pretty much. Plus, if you decide to pursue a sexual relationship with him before he’s worked through some of these issues, it might just exacerbate his current problems. You need to be careful, Brian. Not only is Justin likely to get even more hurt, but, you’ll get hurt too,” Ben cautions.

“Fuck. Or, I guess I should say, no fuck,” I say with resignation. “Well, it’s not like I didn’t already know that, I was just hoping for a second opinion, you know. It’s just not that easy to remember all this when there’s a gorgeous naked blond sprawled on your bed. Thanks, Ben.”

“Anytime, Brian. And, I’ll look up those other therapies for you, they might help if you do get him to open up and talk.”

“Later.”

I hang up on Ben just as I arrive at the Diner and reach to open the door. Debbie is still there, unfortunately, so I have to spend the entire time my order is cooking reassuring her about Justin’s well-being. At least we don’t have the ‘stop fucking the shit out of the patient’ discussion again, because I might lose it big time if we had to do that one again. I guess I finally reassure her enough though, since she finally lets me leave with a paper bag full of take out boxes and a cardboard drink caddy.  

On the walk home I carefully work out a strategy on how to handle my dire twink situation. Brian Kinney has always been at his best when he has a good solid plan to work from. And this one should, hopefully, get me what I want and, eventually, get Justin what he seems to want too. I just have to sell it to him the right way. But who better to sell something than an Ad Man?  

~~*~~

Justin's POV

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I’m not happy about how Brian was acting when he left here earlier. It was like he was running away from me. Fuck. I’m fucking this up already, aren’t I?  

I wish I knew him better so I could know what he liked and then I’d know how to approach this. I was practically throwing myself at him though and he just got up and ran away. What more can I do? Probably nothing. He probably just really doesn’t like me that way. I know what he said, but if that were true he wouldn’t have run away from me. I can’t change the fact that I’m broken and useless and can’t please him the way he really wants. I wish I could. I wish I could be what he wants.  

I’m terrified that he won’t want me to stay now. I made my play and utterly failed. He’s going to come back and throw me out, isn’t he? Why did I tell him I wanted to stay? Why did I do it? Now, he’s going to come back and toss me out and I’ve already let him in and it’s going to fucking hurt. Why can’t I do anything right? Ever? I’m such a fucking loser - I should have known not to even try this. Shit. Shit, shit, shit . . .

“I’m back, Sunshine.” I hear Brian say as he bustles in through the door, while I sit where I’ve been ever since he left, rocking back and forth, trying not to explode with worry. “I’ve got you a replacement bacon cheeseburger and fries. Hope you’re hungry.”

He sets the bag full of food on the kitchen counter and then comes around to the front of the couch, looking at me with concern. He doesn’t sit next to me though. He looks down at me for a few moments, then walks off to the bedroom and comes back with a pile of clothing which he lays in my lap. He does ruffle my hair affectionately a little, but he doesn’t stay. He goes back over to the kitchen island and starts to serve the food, putting my burger and fries on a plate which he sets in front of one of the kitchen stools. I’m putting on the clothing he left me in the meantime.

“Justin. Come. You need to eat, Sunshine,” Brian directs, his voice soft but insistent.  

I do as I’m told - no sense in making it worse than it already is, right? I might as well get one more good solid meal out of this deal before he kicks me out. But it’s hard to make myself eat. The food all tastes the same and I wish He would stop watching as if he’s making sure I finish it all. I remember my father used to watch me eat like that. It’s making me nervous and I’m even less hungry than I was before.

“What’s wrong with your food?” Brian asks, still watching as I barely choke down another bite. “If it’s too cold I can nuke it for you.”

“It’s fine,” I lie.

Brian puts down his own sandwich and looks at me intently. He’s obviously mulling over what he’s going to say to me. I put the burger down and sit quietly, waiting for him to finally get around to it. I’m ready, I guess. I will just get my old clothes out of the bureau where I saw him put them and that’s all I really need. Maybe he’ll let me keep the coat and the new shoes, I think. They would be really nice to have - it’s pretty cold out there still, although it’s not as cold as it was the day Emmett found me.  

Brian interrupts my contemplation of what I may and may not be able to take when I leave by capturing my hands and pulling my body around to face him.  

“I wish I could tell what was going through your brain when you get like this, Sunshine,” Brian says, smiling at me. “I see the wheels turning so fast that It’s almost frightening. But I can’t tell what the thoughts are that are making the wheels spin. This would be so much easier, you know, if I could just tell what was going on in there.”

“You don’t want to know,” I say, simply. “It’s not a nice place.”

“Yeah. That’s part of the problem, isn’t it? But I’ve got a plan to fix that,” Brian says. “Let’s go sit at the table and I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking, okay?”

Shit. This is it. I can feel the tears of anger boiling up in my eyes. I don’t want to cry in front of him again. Why is my body always betraying me like this. I don’t want to let him see how much this is going to hurt. I blink furiously to keep the tears back as I follow him to the table.

“I was talking to Ben earlier, Justin, and he said some pretty intelligent things. Which isn’t all that surprising since he is a Professor,” Brian is trying to ‘lighten the mood’ - fuck him, I wish he would just get it over with. “He said that you won’t get better until you talk about what’s happened to you and work through it a bit. Now, I know that you don’t want to go to any doctors - don’t worry, I’m not suggesting that at all - but, I thought that maybe you could talk to me. I’ve been there, you know. Maybe not the same things you’ve experienced, but I can at least understand what you’ve gone through a little.”

“I can’t promise you that I’ll know what to do or say to help you. I can’t even promise that I won’t fuck it up altogether. All I’ll promise is that I’ll listen. I’ll be there for you if you’ll agree to talk to me and tell me what it is that’s happened to hurt you like this.” Brian is speaking in a low voice, while he holds my hand and rubs little ticklish runes into my palm. “And, I know it won’t be easy, for either of us, Sunshine. So, I thought we could make it less horrible by having a reward waiting at the end - you know, like an incentive program?”

I’m listening. I almost quit listening to him when he started in about talking and working things out. Blah, blah, blah. I’ve been handed that line before and I wasn’t going back to that. But Brian caught my attention with the idea of an incentive program. That’s new. I wonder what kind of incentives he’s thinking of offering.

"Here's my proposal, Sunshine," Brian looks at me, his eyes weighing my response as he speaks. "First, you have to promise to give me one week - let's say until midnight next Monday. During the day you can come with me to work or you can stay here or you can go out on your own - I don't really care, but you can't leave here for good. Both of us have to agree that we'll be back here every night by, say, six thirty.

"Second, you and I will talk every night, even if you don't want to. Even if I don't want to. We will try to do the therapy shit that Ben says you have to do before you can get better. And don't give me that look - I don't particularly go in for all this new age therapy crap either, but I'm willing to try it for one fucking week and if I can put up with it, so can you."

"Third - assuming we don't crack before the end of the week - if you stick with me for the entire time, and provided you still want to when we're done, I'll fuck you. But until the week is up you have to agree to back off with the whole temptation thing, okay? Trust me, you're plenty tempting just sitting there fully dressed. I won't be able to concentrate on anything all week if you're constantly traipsing around naked and plopping down in my lap every time I sit. You have to understand, Justin, I do find you very, very, very attractive - that isnt the problem - its just that, I don't think me fucking you is going to help matters much. At least not in the long run. So, no matter how much I want you, and no matter how much you think you want me, we need to hold off."

"Let's at least give it one week and see if that doesn't change your mind, okay?" Brian says as his voice fades along with the end of his pitch.

"So . . . I agree to stay and do this pseudo therapy shit for one week, at the end of which you finally fuck me, and then what?" I ask.

"I don't know what happens then. You'll be free to go if you want, I guess, but I hope you won't want to." Brian responds, not exactly answering my real question.

"And if I don't want to go? What then?"

"You'll stay, I guess." Brian replies almost sheepishly.

"For how long?"

"I don't know, Justin. I can't promise you anything, okay. Can't we just do this for one week and then figure out what comes next when we get there?"

Brian looks even more uncomfortable than me at this point, which I find incredibly humorous since this whole ridiculous plan is his idea. But, altogether, I suppose it's not such a bad deal. I get to stay for a minimum of one week - there are no promises after that, but really when do you get assurances about anything in life. At the end of the week, he'll finally fuck me and I'll get the chance to try and make him see that keeping me longer is a really good idea for him. In the meantime, there's no more pressure and I don't have to worry about being tossed out on a daily basis if I don't/can't perform.  

So what's the downside? I have to agree to talk about things I don’t want to even think about, let alone discuss. With someone I don't particularly want to have know all my secrets. And there's no guarantee this will even work. At the end of the week Brian may just throw me out in spite of everything. Meanwhile, I've let him get in deeper, inside my defenses. The deeper I let him in, the more likely he is to hurt me. How badly do I really want to stay here?

I don't really want to be Brian's pet psychology project. I don’t want to be fixed. I can't be fixed. I know it's impossible. I've been told enough times by my father that I'm hopeless and I can never be fixed. Why the fuck does Brian feel like he has to fix me, anyway?

Maybe I should just leave. I know what I decided earlier but that was before all this psycho babble shit. I just wanted to stay here with Him, be with Him here where it was safe and warm and clean. I wanted to be with Him so I could feel Him near me and know He was here. I want to have Him touch me and hold me when he's asleep and I want to feel protected and cared for. But . . .

But, once he knows what's really inside me, he won't want to do any of those things.