Chapter 8 - Perception.

Perception:  The process of becoming aware of something through the use of one’s senses.

~~*~~

"Do you want to fuck me now?" Justin asks, matter-of-factly."

~~*~~

Brian’s POV

~~*~~

This is a trick question, right? I mean, look at the beautiful boy standing here in front of me in nothing but a pair of tight black briefs. Of course I want to fuck him. He's gorgeous - a little on the thin side for me, but beautiful nonetheless. I've wanted to fuck him pretty much ever since the first time I saw him at the hospital. But, as I'm coming to expect with Justin, I get the distinct impression that there's a lot more to this question than appears on the surface.  

Instead of answering right away, I get up from my seat at the desk and move over to the sofa.  

"Justin, why don't you come over here," I suggest, patting at the sofa cushion next to me.

Justin saunters over towards me, wiggling his ass rather provocatively. Then he sits next to me, his body half turned, his thigh rubbing against mine as he sits. He gives me a simpering little smile that I really don't like much. Something about this is so wrong. His attempts to be seductive are actually turning me off - although I'm not sure why.

"Justin, I really appreciate the offer, and I do find you incredibly hot. But, um, can I ask why you're offering right now? You're still sick and . . ." I just know I'm missing something - his face visibly falls the more I speak. "Justin, please don't get upset and don't go into that shell of yours. Just tell me why you asked me to fuck you right then. I don't understand and I don't want to hurt your feelings but . . . What the fuck, Justin? What the fuck am I missing here?"

"You don't want me?" Justin says, his voice hushed.

"God, Justin. This has nothing to do with whether or not I want you. There's something more going on here that I don't understand." I stop myself when Justin starts to pull his body away from me, retreating to the far end of the sofa. "Justin, stop moving away from me."

My more forceful, direct and simpler demand seems to have finally gotten through to him - Justin stops moving and just sits compliantly on the couch as if waiting for further directions. Okay, I think, at least I have his attention. Now, I just need to figure out the right questions to ask to get to the answers I need. Easier said than done, though.

So, what do I need to ask him? Asking him 'why' questions doesn't seem to work - maybe because the questions are too open-ended. I need to start with questions that have simpler, more direct answers, I think.  

"Justin, do YOU want to have sex right now?" I start off with what I hope is an easy question, but one I'm not sure of the answer to, since I get a weird feeling that, while he's offering to fuck, it's not what he really wants.

Justin shrugs, still not looking at me.

"Well, I've definitely had more enthusiastic lovers, Sunshine." Now where do I go? So, if he's not particularly in the mood but is making the offer, does he think I want this? "Justin, did you think that I wanted sex from you?"

A nod and a shrug.  

"Why did you think that?" I add.

Nothing. Shit, once again the question was too broad. Fuck, why is this so hard?  No more 'why' questions?  

"Justin, is your throat still sore?"

A nod.

"Do you still feel tired and achy?"

Another nod.

"So, you ARE still feeling Ill?"

A nod again.

He's starting to squirm like he will bolt any time, but I need to work through this a bit more. "Please, just sit still," I order as I stand and begin to pace while I think. "I need to work through this and I need you to sit and wait until I'm ready. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Justin answers, his tone dispirited.

He admittedly still feels ill. He's not really into jumping my bones. But, he thinks I want sex so he's willing to offer himself up just like that? Skipping over just what it was about me sitting at my computer that made him think I needed to fuck him right then, what is it that's causing him to react like this?  And when I don't take him up on the offer, why is his response to act almost sad. What did he say - he was upset that I didn't want him?  

Then I finally connect what he just said about me not wanting him with what he said last night about him being nothing - being trash. Shit, this isn't about any physical attraction between the two of us - this is about Justin being worried he isn't wanted, that I'll think he's just trash.

Something must have happened to make him think I wouldn't want him here unless he was willing to put out? What it was, I had no idea - there really didn't seem to have been anything that occurred this morning to have brought this on. But that was irrelevant. I needed to address the underlying insecurity first. This was just like when he disappeared yesterday morning - I had to make sure he knew I wanted him to be here with me and that I didn't have any ulterior motives as to why.  

"I need you to understand one thing, Justin," I say, sitting back down on the sofa next to him and capturing his hand in mine. "I WANT you to stay here with me at the loft. I told you before, I want you here so that I'll know you are safe and that you'll have someplace to live, at least until you are well again. I don't expect you to clean up or have sex with me or anything else in exchange for being here, Justin. I just want you to stay. I want you to get well."

"If anything else happens between us - and I'm not saying I wouldn't like that, Justin - But I'd only want that if we BOTH felt the same attraction, the same desire. I don't want you to feel obligated to have sex with me. That's not me - I'm not in the habit of hiring hustlers for sex. Not that I have anything against hustlers, either, it's just that I'd rather my partners want to be with me, not just that they want my money."

"Does any of this make sense to you, Sunshine?" I ask, afraid I might have lost him again since he's diligently staring at the couch cushion and I can't tell if he's even listening.

~~*~~

Justin's POV

~~*~~

What the fuck? He doesn't want to fuck me? What the hell DOES He want? I've been here two days now. He and His friends both confirmed what I'd already known - that He's gay. He told me I have to stay here until he says. But if He doesn't want to fuck, then what the hell else does He think he's going to get from me? I don't do a lot of the kink some of the other street boys will do - I'm not going to let him whip me or bareback me or any shit like that. So what does this guy think?  

Why does this man cause me to react the way he does? I don't want to let him get to me this way. I don't want to feel these feelings he keeps bringing out in me. This morning he made me feel almost happy when he kissed me. Then he made me feel all connected to him with all that father/son bonding crap with Gus. Now I feel angry. And a little bit rejected. I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to feel.  

It's not easy out there - fuck, it's not easy anywhere, but especially on the streets - and that numb feeling is one of the only ways I know of to protect myself. Now this guy comes along and after only two days he's threatening to break apart the numb that I've worked so hard to build up. Before Brian, the worst thing I occasionally felt was embarrassment over how pathetic and dirty I'd become and even that was fading. Now I'm feeling bad and confused and . . .

Fuck this. Fuck it all. I'm outta here. I don't care what the fuck Brian wants. I can't do this. If I stay here much longer I'll be useless once I'm turned back out to the streets. I have to get out of here, NOW.

I jerk my hand out of His grasp and start to put on the clothing I just took off which is still sitting folded on the coffee table. Then I remember that these aren't really even my clothes - mine are off somewhere being 'washed'. Well, fuck it, I'm not leaving here naked - if He's gonna take my real clothes, then I have no choice but to wear these.  

Once I'm dressed, I run back to the dresser in the bedroom and gather all my stuff that Brian took out of my other clothes earlier. When Brian sees me pocketing my wallet and other personal stuff he grabs my hands, ostensibly to stop me, but I'm not going to let him. I tear my hands out of his grip.

"Let go of me, right now," I hear myself scream at Him. "You can't keep me here against my will. You can't force me to stay. You're not my father."

That almost gets to him. He stops and just stares at me for a time, while I search for my jacket. But He's fast and gets between me and the door.  

"Justin, I'm not letting you leave," Brian says, sounding a little panicky.

"Like hell you're not. I don't take orders from you or anyone else for that matter.  Get the hell outta my way, Brian."

"No. I'm not moving until you agree to sit down and actually talk to me, Justin." Brian is trying again to grab my hands and pull me back to the couch. "You don't get to just storm out of here, all fucking angry, without explaining to me why you're leaving again. Especially after you promised me yesterday you wouldn't leave."

All this anger that I don't even know I have just boils up at this point. I give up trying to hold it back and let it all out. I haven't been this angry feeling in a long, long time. I've NEVER let it all out like this.  

"Why the hell am I here, Brian? I'm a hustler. It's what I do to make enough money to stay alive. But you apparently don't want to fuck me. So I don't understand what I'm doing here. I don't do any other kinky shit. So, if you don't want to fuck me there's no reason for me to stay."

"I don't want you here just to fuck you, Justin. I can find hustlers who don't have the beginnings of pneumonia. I can also find plenty of tricks to fuck that I don't have to pay. I didn't bring you here because you were a hustler or because I needed to fuck you. I brought you here because I . . . "

"Because you what? You're gay. According to your friends you normally fuck everything that moves. So if you don't want to fuck me then what? You brought me here because you pity me - poor little street boy? You think if you take pity on the poor sick kid then what - it'll make up for everything else shitty you've ever done in your life? Well fuck you. I'm not some charity project. I don't need all your touchy-feely crap. I don't want to be saved. I don't want you to take care of me. I've been taking care of myself for a long time now, thank you very much."

"It's not pity. I don't do pity, it makes my dick soft,” Brian answers, not quite yelling but pretty angry nonetheless. “I don't know what it is. But I don't want you to leave. And, for your information, I do want to fuck you, It's just that that isn't all I want. And I don't want to fuck you just because you feel obligated. I don't particularly want to be somebody's pity fuck either, Sunshine. If you don't WANT me then I'm not going to fuck you."

"Whatever. I'm outta here. Thanks for everything. See ya." I say as I head for the door again.  

"You're not leaving, Justin," Brian jumps up and grabs my arm. "You're still too sick to be out there in the cold. You'll fucking get pneumonia and die, you stupid twat."

"Let me go!" I try to pull out of his grip but he's too strong.

"No. I said you're not leaving. Not like this."

"Let me go. You can't keep me here. Please. Just let me go." I'm yelling at Him but he won't let me go, damn it, and I feel tears starting to pool in the corners of my eyes. "Let me go. Let me GO! You can't keep me here. Please. Please. Please, please, please."

~~*~~

Brian's POV

~~*~~

Justin collapses in a heap on the floor by the door. A second ago he was standing there larger than life, arguing with me, yelling at the top of his lungs. He was finally talking - well, yelling, but at least finally communicating. And then, it all changed when I tried to keep him from leaving. What the fuck happened?

Now he's huddled into himself in a little ball on the floor, rocking back and forth, whimpering, sobbing and mumbling incoherently. I liked the screaming, angry Justin better. That kid I understand. This kid scares me.  

"Please don't. I promise I won't do it again. I promise. Please, don't lock me in there again. Please, please, please. Let me out, please." I can just barely make out what he's saying.  

"Justin. Shhh." I kneel next to him and scoop him into my arms, feeling the endless trembling ripping at his compact frame. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you, Sunshine. It's okay. I won't keep you here if you need to leave, but just calm down, okay. Shhh."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it, dad. Please let me out. I'm so hungry. I'll be good, I promise . . ."

Fuck. It was his fucking father that did this to him? He's crying now and pleading for his father to let him go. The goddamned fucker. It sounds like he locked him up and starved him on a regular basis. I guess there were worse parents out there than Jack and Joanie.  

I want to do something to help him, to make this stop, but what? Justin isn't really even aware of what's going on around him. It's like he's lost in his horrible memories. I feel like shit for bringing this on. I didn't mean to trigger this. I had no idea. So what the fuck do I do?

I always do my best work in my bed, right? I pick the boy up and carry him to the bedroom, depositing him in the center so I can crawl up next to him and wrap the duvet around him. Then I just sit there with him, holding him, rocking and waiting until he quiets. It seems to take a very long time.

~~*~~

Justin's POV

~~*~~

Brian.  

His arms are around me again. I was ready to leave. I'd made up my mind to leave here so I could get away from this temptation. I don't need to deal with Him. I don't want to have to deal with the way He makes me feel. Shit, I don't want to deal with any of this. Why is He doing this to me. I don't want to have to deal with messy, weak emotions and that's what happens when I'm around Brian.  

"My father's name was Jack. The bastard died a couple years ago - good riddance," Brian is speaking directly into my ear, his mouth so close against the side of my face that I can feel the vibrations from his soft, deep voice on my skin. "When I was a kid, he used to drink a lot and he would get angry at just about anything. I was usually the easiest target for his anger."

"My mom said it wasn't his fault - he just had a bad temper. She said that was the way the Lord made him and that we should forgive him. Of course he wasn't beating the crap out of her on a weekly basis. I, on the other hand, didn't feel real forgiving most Saturday nights."

“I was lucky though. I met Mikey when I was about fourteen. I could always escape to his house when my dad was being especially horrid or when my mother, Ste. Joan, was being overly judgmental or frigid. Debbie was more a mother to me than Joan. She would patch me up when I got hurt, take care of me when I was sick, hug me when I was sad - although I made her swear on Michael's head that she would never tell anyone about those times. And Michael was like a brother to me. We looked out for each other. We were always there for one another, no matter what. It was like having a real family."

"I get the feeling you didn't have anywhere to escape to, though, did you, Sunshine? Did you have any friends or family who could have helped you?"

He understands. Shit. That's going to make it even harder to pull myself away from here. I don't want to let him in - it always hurts more if you let someone get close. When they eventually disappear or are ripped out of your life, it's that much harder to patch up the hole they leave when you've let them get close.

"Watching you - seeing you in pain - hurts me, Justin. I don't have a fucking clue why. I'm not the kind of person to get involved in other people's problems. Not ever. I don't usually get involved with anyone, in any way, because I don't want to deal with all the shit that entails. Mikey and Lindsey are pretty much my only friends. Other than that, well, maybe there are a few others that come close to being friends, but not many."

"So, what I'm saying, Justin, is that I don't really know why I feel this way right now. But I do - I feel responsible for you. I want to help you. I want to be there for you when you don't have anyone else. I WANT to take care of you."

"I know you don't need me - that you're perfectly capable of fending for yourself. And, it's NOT pity. I've been there myself - I know how much pity, especially from strangers, even well meaning strangers, can grate on you. But, I do know that it was easier for me when I had people I could trust and depend on like Deb and Vic and Michael."

"I could be that person for you, if you'd let me, Justin. I'll try not to ask too much of you. But, if you let me, I can help you. I can be there when you need someone to listen or patch you up or just be there when you need someone."

"What about when you disappear? Who will patch up that hole?" I can't help asking, fighting against the happy sounding lies he's trying to sell me.

"I won't disappear, Justin. I will never just disappear. If you let me in, I promise to stay," Brian whispers, the sincerity in his voice almost palpable. "I never make promises I'm not willing to keep, Justin. So, you should know that if I say I won't disappear on you, you can count on me."

"That's not what your friends think. They're convinced that you're gonna get tired of your ‘personal in-home hustler’ within a week and then you'll be dumping me back on the streets where you found me so you can return to fucking as usual," I can't help but throw this back in His face, although seeing His hurt expression when I say it makes me instantly regret my words.

"So, that's what this is all about? Who the fuck told you that?" Brian gets so angry, so rapidly, that I'm scared again and I pull the blanket further over myself so I don't have to look at his red face and angry eyes.

Sorry, Sunshine," he instantly regrets his outburst and I watch, amazed, as he visibly reins back his temper. "Whoever told you that was wrong, though. You know better than anyone that I didn't bring you here as my personal rent boy - if I had, I wouldn't have turned you down earlier," he says with a not-quite-grin."

"Plus, no matter what they think my motives are, if you were to ask anyone who knows me, they would tell you that I never make promises lightly and I never break a promise, no matter what it costs me. I lived through my family breaking too many promises to me as a child - I will never willingly break a promise to someone else, Sunshine. NEVER."

“I can't do this, Brian,” I finally admit to him. “If I stay here much longer I'll be useless once I'm back out on the streets. It’s too hard to turn it all off when I go back. I can’t have feelings out there - it hurts too much. I’d be better off just leaving now. Please let me just go.”

“Then don’t go back. Stay here, Justin,” Brian is pleading with me. “Or, if you can’t or don’t want to stay here, we can find you someplace else, but don’t go back out there alone. If something happened to you - if you got sick or hurt - it would kill me.”

Damn, how I wish I could believe Him. I feel so comfortable here in his home, in his arms. The wrenching pain in my gut tells me, though, that I shouldn’t believe him. It can’t be that simple. It can’t be true. Too many times, others have told me that they were just doing something to help me - something that was in my best interest, even though I couldn’t see how - and it was always a lie. But I really wanted this lie. I wanted Him.

“I’m doing it again, aren’t I,” Brian asks, his forehead pressed against the side of my face still. “I’m asking too much and pressing too hard. How about this, Justin - can you agree to stay for just one more day? Stay with me till tomorrow afternoon, okay. That’s not too much to ask and I’ll feel better if you get even just one more good night of rest.”

One more day? I guess it’s not that much. I’m already fucked from the short time I’ve been here, what’s one more day?  

“Fine. One more day.” I quietly voice my acceptance.

“Thank you, Sunshine,” Brian says, kissing me once on the cheek and then, using his strong hand to tilt my chin up so my lips meet his, leaving a second light kiss on my lips, before enfolding me back into his arms and lying us both down together on the bed.