Chapter 31 - Fallacious.

Fallacious: Containing fundamental errors in reasoning tending to lead one into error.

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Justin's POV

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Someone's crying, I think. I can feel the moisture from the tears on my face and I feel a very quiet sob every so often - so quiet that you can't actually hear it, only I feel it against my skin. I don't think it's me crying. I don't feel sad. I only feel numb. I vaguely wonder who it is.

I realize that there's someone talking, too. I think the talking has been going on for a while. I'm only just hearing it now, though. Whoever is talking is also very upset, so that couldn't be me either. I kinda recognize the voice though and it begins to worry me a little so I start to listen to the words.

"Please don't do this to me, Justin. Please. You have to come back to me. Please, Sunshine. I know I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm so fucking sorry. I should never have left you alone in the first place. I'm just an idiot. I wasn't thinking. And then, when I saw you with that other guy I completely lost it, Sunshine. But I'm sorry and we can work on this, okay. Just come back to me. Please. . . "

Brian. That was Brian's voice talking. I think it's Brian crying, too. That seems wrong, though. Brian shouldn't be crying. Why is Brian crying? I had been sitting here perfectly fine and numb, but now I'm worried because Brian shouldn't be crying. I'm going to have to find out why Brian is so upset. 

I try to focus on what I see around me but it's all hazy. My head hurts - another migraine. That would explain my vision being blurry. I don't recognize where I'm at, though. It's not Brian's loft, that's for sure. This is very strange. One good thing - it's dark in here which helps with my headache a bit. But I don't like not knowing where I'm at.

I try to move my hand, my arm, so I can rub my eyes and help myself focus, but I can't. My hands are trapped by something - something is wrapped around me. I really would like to get my hands free but it doesn't seem like it's worth the effort. I'm so very tired. If I didn't need to find out what was wrong with Brian I'd just let myself sleep. But, he's still talking and crying and I need to help him, so I fight the urge to sleep.

"Brian?" The name comes out as barely a whisper and I'm not sure anyone even hears me at first. 

"Sunshine? You're back. Thank you." I hear Brian say finally. I can feel his lips touching my temple. "I'm so glad you're back."

"Why are you crying, Brian? 

"Because you scared the shit out of me, you little Twat. That's why," Brian says teasingly but with just a hint of real anger and fear. "How do you feel?"

"Headache."

"Brian, don't forget the water. He's probably dehydrated which would account for the headache," another voice says from somewhere behind me.

"Right. Here you go, Sunshine. Drink up," Brian says as he shifts me into a more upright position and hands me a bottle of water. 

The movement finally frees up my hands which I can now use to wipe away the tears from Brian's face. I'm still not sure what's going on, though, or where we are. But I am thirsty so I drink the water Brian gives me. Then I look around to try again to figure out what's going on. 

Ben, Michael, Ted and Emmett are all standing nearby looking down at Brian and me with concern. We're in some office, it looks like, but it's not someplace I recognize. In the background I can hear loud music playing.

That's what finally brings it all back to me - the music. We're still at the club. I was going to take a trick to the backroom to fuck but Brian didn't want me to. I yelled at him and made him so angry he didn't want to talk to me. Then I got scared that I'd ruined things and he'd want me to leave. I don't remember anything else.

Brian is still here though and I don't think he's angry at me anymore. Something must have happened. Something made Brian cry and got the others all worried. And something gave me this fucking headache. Do I want to know what it was?

"Brian, I think you should get Justin home. It's late. You two probably both need some rest," Ben advises, reminding me how tired I am.

"I'll drive you and Justin to the loft, Bri. Ben and Michael can follow behind in your car and I'll take them home after," Ted suggests, seemingly glad to have some purpose.

"Thanks. Ready, Sunshine?" Brian says looking at me.

"Hmmmm?" I still feel all hazy and insubstantial - it's hard to focus on what people are saying, so I opt for just letting them take charge.

"I'll take that as a yes," Brian says, still obviously upset but trying to humor me it seems. "Can you walk, or do you want help?"

"Walk."

"Okay. Let's get out of here, then," Brian asserts and helps me to my feet.

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Brian's POV
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Justin still seems so out of it even after we get home. He seems confused and I'm half convinced that I really should have taken him to the hospital after all. That’s when Ben pipes up and explains that panic attacks generally cause hyperventilation which results in low blood oxygen levels and causes dizziness and confusion. Thank you professor know-it-all. But, really, it’s good to have Zen Ben around - I wouldn’t have known what to do tonight without him. 

As the gang all file out, I help Justin up to the bedroom, pull his clothes off and help him into bed. Then I run to the bathroom and grab the bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. Justin takes six aspirin and swallows them in one gulp, then falls back heavily against the pillows. All I can do is hover - I’m still so fucking worried. I don’t think these panic attacks and flashbacks will ever get easier to deal with. Especially not when I’m the one causing them.

What the fuck was I thinking? Justin’s already had a lifetime of unreasonable fuckers yelling at him and what do I go and do in front of a crowd of people at a packed bar - I yell at him and make him feel bad about himself and . . . and cause him to have another panic attack.  I’m such a fucking asshole sometimes.  

“Brian?” Justin’s voice breaks through my internal ranting of self-accusation and guilt. “Don’t be angry at me, please. I’m sorry I yelled at you and embarrassed you at the club. I’m really sorry. Don’t make me leave. Please.”

“Fuck, Justin. I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at myself for causing all this,” I tell him right away. “I’m the fucker who ruined everything. I’m the one who was yelling at you, Sunshine, and I know better. You should be angry at ME.” 

“I just got so pissed off when I saw you with that guy,” I try to explain. “I know it’s not fair and it makes no sense. I mean, I was in there with a trick myself. But when I saw him with his hands on you, I could barely stop myself from slamming my fist into his smarmy face. And when I thought about you fucking him, I . . . I just lost it completely, Sunshine. I don’t think I can handle that - ever.”

“I guess Brian Kinney does do jealous after all. In fact, I was so fucking jealous tonight I wasn’t thinking straight. I keep doing these things to make your panic attacks and flashbacks worse and I feel like shit about it, Justin. I wish I knew how to help you and not make it worse,” I’m almost sobbing again at this point. “But, please don’t think I ever want you to leave. I don’t. Ever. Just . . . please put up with me a little longer and I’ll try to figure this out and do whatever I have to so I don’t keep hurting you. Okay. Please. Just give me another chance.”

“Brian, stop!” Justin interrupts me. “I’m so tired and my head is killing me. Can’t we figure out who to be angry at in the morning? Let’s just sleep now, okay?”

So we sleep. I pull my Sunshine tight against me and hold him till I’m sure he’s sound asleep and then I tell him all the things that I wish I could say when he was awake. There are words like ‘adorable’ and ‘sweet’ used. I might even have mentioned some words that aren’t typically in my vocabulary like ‘love’ and ‘forever’ and maybe even a couple words that start with ‘m’ that I usually don’t even let myself acknowledge as a possibility in my own head. But, it’s okay since he’s asleep and can’t hear me and I’m going to forget I said all this by morning. And, when I’ve let all those annoying sentimental thoughts out, I finally can sleep too.

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Justin's POV

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I still have a bit of a fucking headache when the alarm goes off in the morning. Panic attacks do not mix well with alcohol apparently. Actually, nothing goes well with a panic attack. 

Fuck! I'm so embarrassed about all that last night. First pulling that shit on Brian with the trick and then whatever the fuck I did afterwards. I still didn't really remember much. I'd heard the guys commenting a little in the car on the ride home last night - I collapsed at the bar and Brian and Ben had to carry me out of there up to the club office, where I remained catatonic for almost two hours, effectively scaring the shit out of everyone. 


I feel so foolish. I realize now that I'd had more to drink than I should have. I never would have gone with that guy to the backroom in the first place if I hadn't been drunk. I was being silly and sentimental and I'd totally read more into my deal with Brian than I should have. I was just overreacting to watching Brian take that skanky trick back there. Watching that, combined with the alcohol, all together made me fucking crazy it seems.

And now that I think about it, I don't know why I got so upset about the trick in the first place. Brian never promised me anything. When he asked me to stay here with him he never once said anything about it being a relationship or anything like that. I knew from the start what he was like - his friends told me practically from day one that Brian would fuck anything with a dick. I'd seen him myself that time at the Diner. I've seen all the guys hitting on him there and at Woody's. 

Why did I think that just because I was finally able to get it up and he'd finally fucked me that he'd be giving up all the rest? How fucking naive could I be? How pathetic. Justin's a jealous little faggot with all sorts of stupid romantic ideas. I should have known better. Brian likes to fuck, that's a given. So he wants me here to fuck when he's home. But when he's out, he's got a lot of other choices and there's no reason he'd choose me exclusively.

And it shouldn't surprise me that he doesn't want me fucking around on him. I mean, he's taking care of me, giving me a place to stay, giving me money, a job, clothing, everything. He's done everything for me. I'm bought and paid for, right? I'm his and he has every right to keep me to himself if he wants, right? I just didn't see it like that before. Like I said, stupid, naive, pathetic. I was fucking slow on the pickup this time, but I get it now.

And now everything makes a lot more sense, too. All along I've been struggling with the question of why Brian would do all these things for me. Nobody does all the crap he's done out of the sheer goodness of his heart. But I've been a street hustler so long that I didn't even think about the possibility of Brian wanting a more long term arrangement. He doesn't want a rent boy - he wants a mistress. Or whatever the hell you call the gay equivalent of a mistress. Instead of a short term rental, it's more like a multiple year lease with an option to buy. 

I'm okay with that. It makes a lot of sense from the standpoint of a busy guy like Brian. He gets a convenient, semi-permanent fuck. I get a great place to live for an indefinite period of time. He's given me these great clothes and other expensive gifts like the phone. I'm getting paid a ridiculously large sum of money for my services - of course he disguises it as a 'job' at his company, probably for tax purposes or something. And I get to be fucked by a pretty decent guy on a regular basis. I just need to keep in mind that I'm his property now and I'll be fine. Its actually a pretty great deal. I really don't want to leave - I still want to be with Brian no matter how I have to work it.

As long as I don't get too emotionally involved it'll be fine.

Brian is starting to wake up now. He's as hard as usual in the morning and his hands are already roaming. Time to earn my keep. I roll over and present to him, using a pillow to help position my ass at the perfect level. I can tell he's interested since it takes him not more than a couple seconds to get on his knees behind me, get a condom on and find the lube. He preps me quickly and then without further ado he's happily buried in my ass, pumping along at a rapid pace, well on his way.

I'm trying to act enthusiastic. I know that's part of my job - have to make the John think he's the best fuck ever in the history of dicks no matter what you're really feeling, right? But, what with the hangover and the reaction to the panic attack and whatever else, I'm not really feeling it this morning. In fact I can't even maintain a good erection. I just hope Brian doesn't realize that - he's so weird about wanting me to get off too all the time. It's not going to happen today though. I just hope he finishes quickly so I can go shower and get some food - maybe that will help with the hangover.

Unfortunately, right before Brian reaches his climax, he reaches around to fist me and discovers that I'm limp as over cooked linguini. Shit. I knew he'd get weird. He actually stops in mid-fuck, pulls out and turns me around so he can look in my face.

"What's wrong, Justin," he demands. 

What exactly do I say? I'm not in the mood? Your mistress is a bit too hungover to get it up today, Sugar? That's not going to go over with Brian. Fuck, he'll probably want to talk about it and everything. I DON'T want to talk. I just want a shower and breakfast and a little time to come to grips with the realization I've had about the nature of my new life. I'm sure that by tonight, or tomorrow at the latest, I'll be able to manufacture the appropriate amount of enthusiasm to satisfy even Brian Kinney. But I have to tell him something.

"Sorry, Brian. I feel kinda sick. I think maybe I ate something last night that doesn't agree with me," I lie through my fucking teeth. "Don't worry about me, though. I'll get something to eat and that should settle my stomach. But, you don't have to stop. You should finish. You're so close."

"Fuck that, Justin," Brian says, already removing the condom from his still hard dick. "I don't need to finish if you're not feeling well. Come on, Sunshine. Let's get you something to eat and see if that helps."

Brian proceeds to bustle about the loft, getting me breakfast and asking me a hundred times if I'm feeling better. After I've eaten, he puts me in the shower, alone, so I won't feel crowded, he says. He's being all solicitous and caring and generally annoying the hell out of me, but at least he hasn't demanded that we talk. 

I really just want him to leave me alone for a while. I need some time to myself to readjust my expectations and purge myself of all these useless emotions that I mistakenly let take over my brain. I can't do that with him being all kind and caring. It's too distracting and confuses me. 

But of course I don't say anything. Complaining is definitely NOT in a mistress' job description.

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Brian's POV

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I know that there's more wrong with Justin than he's admitting to, but I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with whatever it is. I know I should sit him down and make him talk to me about what happened last night. But when it comes down to it, I'm a fucking coward. I hate talking about emotions and crap. I'm not ready to try and figure out why I acted the way I did or what I want out of this deal with Justin. And Justin seems pretty reluctant to talk too. So, coward that I am, I take the easy way out and let myself avoid the confrontation that I know has to happen eventually.

So we're both sort of cold and distant all the way in to the office. Justin immediately heads off to the art department without a glance back at me. And I have five phone messages, a conference call holding and a meeting afterwards, waiting for me before I even reach my desk. Justin will have to wait. Again.

By the time Ted scurries in between meetings, bringing all the TelePhonix paperwork for me to look over before it's couriered over to Craig Taylor for his signatures, I'm so swamped that I've managed to temporarily forget the Justin situation for the time being. Of course Ted immediately brings the topic up again. 

"How's Justin holding up today, Brian? We were all pretty freaked about him last night. I saw him earlier this morning and he seems okay but . . . still a little off, maybe. Is he going to be alright?" Ted asks immediately upon entering my office.

"I don't know, Theodore. I seem to have let my medical license expire so I can't really make a valid diagnosis," I snark at him, letting my annoyance at myself be misdirected at him. 

"Sorry, Bri. I didn't mean to pry. Just concerned is all. If you or Justin need anything, though, just say the word, okay," Ted responds. 

"You can help me and Justin by making sure these get off to Taylor. I want the signed contracts back on my desk by Monday. And make sure he knows we demand first position on all the security filings. Any other secured lenders are going to have to subordinate to us or there's no deal. We may have to help him a bit on that one - do we have any contacts at First Penn? They'll have to be contacts you're willing to burn because after this deal goes down, the bank won't be very happy with us or with Taylor."

"No problem, Brian. I think I know just the guy over there. He's the biggest schmuck I've ever met. I have no idea how he made it to V.P. of a bank. But I'm sure I can talk him into this deal without the usual due diligence delays."

"Fabulous, Theodore. Make it so. Once all the paperwork is signed, we just have to sit back and wait till the shit hits the fan and then watch while that fucker Taylor squirms."

"I hope this works, Brian," Ted worries. "If not, you've just set yourself up for a world of hurt and coughed out $100,000 for the privilege."

"It'll work, Ted. I got to spend all afternoon with Taylor yesterday and I'm fully satisfied that a more greedy, careless fuckup doesn't exist."