Chapter 16  - Amelioration.

Amelioration:  Steady improvement towards becoming better or improved.

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Justin's POV
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I love the idea Brian came up with about the food stuff. I don't care if it's basically the same thing his four year old is doing. I think it will work. And even if it doesn't, the fact that Brian is so willing to listen to what I say and then take my needs into account to find a workable solution is making me almost giddy. I can't wait to try this out. I might even actually tell him if I don't like something.

He didn't laugh at me or make fun of me when I told him what my father did. I didn't feel embarrassed. It was easy to talk to him. And he backed right off when he saw it was getting to be too much. Then he went that extra step and asked me how He could help me. He's fucking amazing.

Brian says we've done enough for one night and that maybe I should head to bed. He's going to shower and maybe do some work, he says. I am tired, although the head cold is pretty much gone now so I have more energy every day. But, I'm too excited to sleep right now. What I really want is to do something for Brian to show him how much all he's doing means to me.

My first thought is to follow him into the shower and show my appreciation in a very physical way. But, I can't ‘cause he made me promise to tone down the temptation thing. Then I remember the sketch I started yesterday - I'd remembered to bring the art stuff Brian had given me back from the office today and I could work on the sketch while Brian was doing his work.  

I'm wrapped in a blanket and curled up in a chair by the loft's huge plate glass windows when Brian comes out of the shower dressed in faded jeans and a warm pullover. He nods in my direction and proceeds straight to his desk, opening his computer and typing away. I'm finishing the sketch I started of him and Gus from breakfast yesterday. We're both quiet and content, each busy with our own pursuits.

That's when it strikes me how strange this scenario really is. I'm actually happy. I'm more than happy - I'm content and warm and happy and comfortable and relaxed and serene and satisfied and . . . All these other adjectives that have never been me ever before. My god, how did this happen?

This isn't me. I shouldn't be here and I shouldn't be feeling all these nice feelings. The more I realize how comfortable I've become, the more frightened I get. This is the very thing I was hoping to avoid. Getting comfortable somewhere, liking someone the way I like Brian. I've let this happen and now I'm completely fucked, aren't I?

When this all goes away it WILL kill me.

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Brian's POV
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I'm thinking about how nice this is - Justin and I both sitting in the loft, each working on his own stuff, in a companionable silence. It's kind of 'homey'. Okay, it's also a bit weird because this is not the typical Brian Kinney M.O. Normally, the only time I've got another man here it's only for long enough to fuck him and he's out the door as quick as I can get him back into his clothes. Actually, that's not true - sometimes I even throw them out before they get back into all their clothes.

But this feels surprisingly nice. I could even get used to this. Okay, maybe not every night of the week - that would likely drive me insane, but it wouldn't be so bad on occasion.

I finish responding to the last of my emails and close up my computer. That's when I realize I haven't heard anything out of Justin for a long while. As I near the chair where he's sitting I note the slightly shell shocked expression on his face. This time I have at least some idea what might be bothering him though, and I'm not too worried.

"It's sort of too much, isn't it?" I ask as I take the forgotten sketch pad out of his fingers. "I was just thinking the same thing, Sunshine. All this domestic bliss and spending the night in together - it’s weird, isn't it? But, it's not that bad. You might even get used to it someday."

And when he finally blinks and looks into my eyes I know that I was right - we were both thinking about almost the same thing. It's hard not to be frightened of feeling happy, when you're so used to feeling bad all the time. I remember how it used to hit me just like it is with Justin, right after I'd moved in here and realized I'd finally escaped from my parents and their lifestyle. I understood how overwhelming it could be. This I could help him with.

"Don't think about it for now Sunshine. Let's just go to bed. I'm sure there's more bad stuff likely to happen tomorrow and you'll feel less scared by that than you do now. But, really, it'll be okay."

~~*~~

I wake up in the morning with blond twink sprawled face down all over me again.  My hand had, of its own volition before I was even awake, found and grabbed hold of one lovely full butt cheek. I could really get to like this. That is, if I was only allowed to do something with the luscious blond twink.

Mindful of yesterday morning's events, I crank my neck so I can leave a kiss on the first piece of skin I can find - I think it's an ear but it's hard to tell from this angle. "Wake up, Sunshine. Don't want to scare you again but I don't really want to let go of your perky little ass cheek yet either. So you better wake up and let me fondle you a little before we have to get to work."

"Mmmm." Justin's standard good morning mumble comes out, accompanied by the merest wiggle of his ass.

My hand can't help squeezing and kneading that perfectly firm flesh just a bit more. I hope he's awake enough this morning. Oh, what the hell, I reach my other hand around, let it grab it's own plump ass cheek, and use my leverage to pull him up and settle him more firmly on my chest and stomach. Now I have much better access to those tempting cheeks and I can fondle them much more fully. I also now have access to lips to kiss rather than just an ear. So I do.

"You do know that this hot little ass of yours should be illegal, don't you?" I ask when our mouths break apart enough to allow speech. "It's far too tempting. You make it very difficult for me to remember my promises, Sunshine."

"So, forget 'em already," he teases.

"You know, I've never done this before," I say a few kisses later.

"What? You've never played with a guy's ass before? And I thought you were so experienced," Justin is in such a teasing, playful mood today - I love it.

"No, you twat! I meant I've never NOT fucked a guy that was here in my loft - in my bed even," I explain. "Of course, I never had a reason like I do now, either. But, I'm just saying, it's a first for me. I'm actually impressed that I can show such restraint. I never thought I could do this."

"You can do anything, Brian," he whispers into my ear and solemnly seals the words inside with another kiss.

"Well, if I don't get away from you right this minute, that won't be true any more will it, because I'm not going to be able to stop myself from plowing into this plump perfect ass. So, it's off to ‘cold-shower-land’ for me, Sunshine." I say as I upend him abruptly and run to the shower before I break all my promises.

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Justin's POV
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Brian doesn't close the bathroom door on his way into the shower. I hear the shower door click open and then closed and the water being turned on. I'm lying here still in a sleepy daze when I hear Brian say my name. I get up and move towards the bathroom but stop when I get a glimpse of the mirror over the washstand. From where I'm standing I have the perfect angle to watch Brian in the shower by way of his reflection in the mirror, and it's a fascinating sight.

Brian is standing directly under the shower head with the spray pelting down on his skin. His left arm is braced against the side glass panel. His head is bowed, his eyes closed. His right hand is clenched around his beautiful full dick and he's pumping himself furiously.

"Justin." he says my name again then moans quietly.

The thrill I get from hearing him say my name is accompanied by a hot little spark of warmth deep in my gut. The feeling surprises me but I don't get time to think about it too much because the scene I'm watching demands my full attention. Brian's hand is moving much faster now, sliding over his soapy skin easily. His look of concentration is so intense it almost makes me want to laugh. The little mumbles and whimpers he's making are mostly drowned out by the sound of the water.

Then the hitch in his breath warns me it's time. After two more pumps, I watch as all his muscles clench. Then streams of thick white cum stream out of his twitching cock, spraying spurt after spurt over the walls of the shower.

"Oh fuck, Sunshine," he groans as his body slumps back against the other side glass panel behind him and he milks out the last few drops of cum.

My body slumps back against the door frame at the same time. Brian jerking off in the shower is the hottest thing I've ever experienced in my life. On top of that, he was thinking about ME while he did it. Fuck, that was amazing!

I'm breathing heavy and my heart is racing just from watching. And then I notice it - I'm semi-aroused for the first time in practically forever. Okay, it's not a full-out stiffy, but for me it's pretty remarkable. I want to reach down and feel myself. It's just such a surprise that I don't even think about what I'm doing at first.

As soon as I do touch myself, though, it disappears. Shit. I shouldn't have . . . I'm not supposed to . . . Fuck. I feel the panic starting to rise up inside me. I want to fight it. I don't want to give into it again. Not this morning - not when I'm feeling so good. I close my eyes and concentrate on just breathing to hold off the fear.

"Hey, you," Brian's voice comes along with the feeling of his lips leaving a small peck on my forehead. "Shower's all yours, Sunshine. Hurry up, though. I thought we could stop by the Diner for breakfast and see how our new system works out."

That's all it takes. Brian says this to me and I'm instantly fine. All the panic just drains out of me. I know he'll make it okay. So, I breathe easily again and head into the shower to start getting ready.

~~*~~

Brian’s POV

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The Diner is ridiculously crowded this morning, so we just take seats together at the counter rather than waiting for a booth. Debbie is running around like a chicken with her head cut off - in other words, she’s completely happy and in her element. She’s grousing with the customers, alternately cursing at them and petting them the way she does. She stops her endless rounds long enough, though, to come barreling over to us when we enter to give Justin a huge bear hug. I almost stop her but one glance at Justin’s grin and I know he can handle this, so I shrug and let her have at him.

“Sunshine! You look so much better! Good job, Brian,” Debbie gushes as she clears off the counter in front of us and swipes at the counter with a rag. “You guys take a seat and I’ll be right back. Fuck. It’s busier in here today than the Liberty Baths on ‘No Towel Night’.”

“The one good thing about Deb,” I tell Justin as the red-headed spectacle retreats, “is that you almost never have to help out with the conversation. She just does all the talking and never really gives you a chance to answer anyway.”

Justin’s still laughing at my little joke when Deb returns with clean coffee cups and the carafe. “What’s so funny, huh? There’s no time for jokes anyway, boys. I’m too busy this morning. So, what are you having?” Deb takes her order pad out of the pocket of her apron and licks the tip of the pencil she pulls out of her wig.  

I look over at Justin to see if he’s ready. He’s smiling but he shakes his head ‘no’ at me. So, I start to order.  

“I’ll have my usual, Deb. And you can bring Justin a short stack of pancakes,” I start off but I’m interrupted by a tap on my forearm and I look over at the grinning blond next to me who shakes his head a little. “No? Okay . . . how about . . . bacon, eggs, hash browns and wheat toast with orange juice and a bowl of fruit on the side.”

Justin nods at me and his grin is so fucking huge that it feels like you could turn off all the lights in the restaurant and his smile alone would still light up the whole place.  

“You two are fucking adorable. You know that, right?” Debbie says, looking at me with sheer amazement on her face.  

“Thanks, Deb, but we’ll skip the commentary this morning and just go with breakfast instead, hmm?” I snark back at her since it’s what she expects and I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.  

“I’m just saying . . .” Deb says as she moves away to place our order.

“Way to go, Sunshine,” I murmur quietly to my companion. “I’m proud of you. How did that feel?”

“Good. Really good,” Justin responds quietly and I can’t resist, even though we’re here in the Diner and there are about fifty queers watching me - I lean over and give Justin a quick kiss on the cheek in celebration.

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Justin's POV

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I DID IT! IT WORKED! I can’t believe I just told Brian no when he was ordering food for us and he didn’t get annoyed and he’s actually proud of me and I didn’t freak out or anything. This is amazing. I’m so excited that I’m not sure I can keep sitting here. I almost don’t want to wait for my food now - I feel like running and screaming and . . . whatever. But I just sit here on the Diner stool next to Brian and wait patiently for my food and celebrate inside.

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Brian’s POV

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“Sorry to interrupt, Brian, but you have an insistent visitor,” Cynthia’s voice rings over the intercom. “She refuses to make an appointment and come back another time.”

“Give me one clue and I bet I can guess who it is; How much do I normally want to avoid seeing this person?” I ask.

“I’d say you’d probably be happier meeting up with a gang of gay bashers armed to the teeth with pitchforks when you were alone, dressed in a tutu, right after a Pride parade.” Cynthia posits.

“Oh. It’s my mother. Fine. Send her in,” I say with resignation.

“Brian. I really do NOT like that receptionist of your’s. She is so rude. You should definitely say something to her,” are the first words out of St. Joan’s mouth as she barges into my office.  

“Mother. Lovely to see you, too,” I say as I submit to the obligatory peck on my cheek as she greets me. “Cynthia is just doing her job, mother. I told her an hour ago that I was busy and didn’t want any interruptions and she was just trying to follow my directions.”

“Well, I don’t care. She doesn’t need to be so rude about it,” Joan grouses.

“So, to what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your visit today,” I say, ignoring her complaints about my very capable and wonderful assistant, to whom, I remind myself, I should give a huge raise since she did such a good job pissing off my mother for me.

“Well, your nephew, Peter, is having his Confirmation this Sunday and I thought it wouldn’t kill you to come to church to support him. You hardly ever spend any time with the family. It’s not right that you have distanced yourself from all of us. The Bible tells us to honor our families, which includes spending time with them,” Joan complains.

“You know how much I just love spending time in church with my loving family, but, I’m sure Peter would rather just have me send him some money. What’s the going rate for a Confirmation these days? $100. $200?” I ask, already getting my checkbook out of the drawer of my desk.  

“Don’t be so flippant, Brian. Your soul is in need of some real attention, young man. When was the last time you were in a church? I’m just looking out for your best interests, you hear me?” Joan begins her usual religious rant, at which point I normally just tune her out.

“Here, Mom. Give this to dear little Peter and tell him I’m so very happy he’s being Confirmed into the Church of Hypocritical Old Men Who Like to Abuse Young Boys. I hope he turns out better than his juvenile delinquent brother did.” I say as I hand Joan the check I’ve just written.

“Brian! I will not listen to such sacrilege. You can say or do whatever you like, unfortunately, in your own life but you will not talk like that about the church in my presence. If it weren’t for the church and Reverend Tom, I don’t know what I would have done these last couple years since your father died . . ."

I might have made the effort to shut her up eventually, but, unluckily, at this point Justin bursts through my office door, waving a mock-up board in his hand with a big smile on his face. He skips over to me, swings my chair around and plops himself down in my lap, wrapping his arms around my neck and planting a huge kiss on my lips to top it all off.  

“Look, Brian. The mock-ups are done. We just finished them and they turned out fantastic. I just couldn’t wait to show you,” Justin gushes, clearly proud of his first fully completed ad campaign boards - and who could blame him - it’s just that his timing really sucks.

“Brian! What is the meaning of this!” Joan’s affronted squeak from the visitor’s chair finally gets through to Justin’s overexcited mind, shutting him up fast.

“Mother, this is Justin. Justin, meet one of my own demons - my mother, Joan Kinney,” I belatedly make the introductions.

Joan fumes. Literally. I swear I can actually see steam coming out of her ears and her nostrils are flaring. And, amazingly enough, she’s actually speechless for the first time I can ever remember. For about two minutes, that is.  

Then she gathers her purse to her bosom and stands up. “I had no idea you were . . . How dare you, Brian?”

“What? How dare I introduce you to my current squeeze? I thought you were just going on about how I shouldn’t distance myself from the family. Well, if I’m going to be spending all that time with you guys, you’ll probably want to meet my boyfriend, right? Can I bring a date to the Confirmation on Sunday? What do you say, Justin - would you like to waste your entire Sunday morning being ranted at by my zealot mother after we spend a useless hour in church with the rest of my screwed up family? Doesn’t that sound fun!”

“You know you’re going to Hell for this, Brian, don’t you? I can’t believe you would do this to me.” Joan is already retreating towards the door.

“I didn’t do anything to you, Joan. I’m doing it to Justin here! He doesn’t seem to mind though, do you Justin? And you know what,” I yell after her retreating back as she hustles out of my office door and past Cynthia’s desk, “I’d rather spend an eternity burning in hell than one ridiculous Sunday morning sitting in church with my so called ‘family’.”

As soon as she’s gone, I stomp back into my office and slam the door closed. I drop into my desk chair, still so angry and resentful that I can’t focus my thoughts. If I had something nearby that I didn’t care about ruining, I would throw it, but I can’t even focus enough to figure out what to throw.  

It’s at least ten minutes later before I start to wonder where Justin went to when all this blew up in our faces. It wasn’t his fault, really. The show down with my mother had been brewing for years. I had just been carefully avoiding her as much as possible ever since my father died. As much as I hated the brute that was my father, once I was old enough to stand up to him and he knew he couldn’t hit me anymore, he was actually easier to be around than my mother. Ever since he died, I’d known that I would eventually have to have it out with St. Joan, too. I just didn’t think that day would be today. But, now that it’s over, I actually feel relieved.

So, where DID Justin go? I don’t remember him leaving the office when I was tearing after my mother as she left. He must have gone though - he’s nowhere in sight right now. But the fact that I don’t know where he is makes me very nervous. That was a pretty big blow out for him to have to watch. It was fucking traumatic for me and I’m not the one barely able to hang on to reality half the time. This could be very, very bad.

~~*~~

Justin's POV

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"You know you're going to Hell for this, Brian, don't you . . ."

'I knew you were a fucking pervert. All these years I just knew it. But I had no idea how truly sick you really were. My God! What have I done to have such filth be foisted off on me. There's no way under the heavens that you could be my son.'

My father's face has turned an ugly greenish-purple and I can see the veins in his temples throbbing with every word he yells at me. I've never seen him this angry - which says a lot since I don't remember many days in my life that he was ever not angry for at least some part of it. But this is beyond anything I ever even dreamed of.

'I've done everything I could to raise you right. I've taken you to church every Sunday since the day you were born. I read the Bible to you even as an infant. You've been shown discipline and what prayer can do, and you still defy me and the Lord in this despicable, horrible way? How could you do this to me? To your poor Mother? How will we ever be able to show our faces in public again? My God, I wish you'd never been born rather than that you would shame us like this.'

He's still waving around the sketch book he found under the loose floorboard in my closet. I'd been hiding it there for years and I'd thought it was a safe place. Then today, when he found the jacket that had fallen off the hook behind my door, he decided to punish me for not taking care of my clothing properly by giving away all my clothes to charity. He said that since I didn't appreciate what I had, he'd give my clothes to someone who would. I'd appreciate the hard work he does to earn the money to buy those clothes after I've had to go naked for awhile.

He went into my closet and began pulling out all my clothes, throwing them into a pile in the center of my room. Then, by accident, he kicks the loose board causing it to rattle and it instantly draws his attention. It only takes him thirty seconds after that to pull up the loose board, discover the sketch pad in the crevice below and flip it open to reveal page after page of drawings of nude men.

The pile of clothing has been forgotten. My earlier transgression has been eclipsed by the much greater sin of finding men attractive. I'd tried for so long to keep this from him. I let him pull me out of school and drive Daphne away, all because I was too cowardly to tell him about this. He wouldn't have had the excuse he needed to do those things if he'd known about THIS. But I thought I could keep this hidden and be safe.

I was so wrong.

'Where's the rest of it?' he screams in my face. 'Is there any more? Any more filthy drawings or painting or pictures? Tell me, right now?'

'No. There's nothing else.' I answer.

'I want you to gather all this together and meet me in the driveway in five minutes. You better have every sketch pad, pencil, crayon, brush, whatever. If I find even one piece of scratch paper left up here afterwards you'll regret it. Do you hear me?'

'Yes.'

He's dumped out the old metal trash can and pulled it out to the middle of the driveway. There's some newspaper wadded up in the bottom and he's squirting lighter fluid onto it as I near. Then he looks at me with that evil tight lipped little smile he has and tosses a match into the can to light it all on fire.  

'Go on, boy. All of that filth goes into the fire. You know you're going to hell for this, don't you? Well this should give you a taste of what you will meet with if you don't repent, boy.'

'Go on!' he's saying to me, no longer yelling because we're outside and he wouldn't want the neighbors to hear, but with a controlled fury that's even more frightening.

When I don't move, he grabs my wrist and pulls me so close to the flames that I can feel the heat singeing the hairs on my arms and face. He hisses into my ear that if I don't burn it all he will and then I'll regret my actions even more. I don't doubt that at all. So I do as I'm told.

One by one my drawings go into the fire. My whole lifetime's work. Even the drawings and pictures that aren't of nudes - they all go. Then my pencils, brushes, paints, everything. I put it all in that can and watch it burn. When he laughs at the tears falling down my face and calls me a 'fairy boy' for crying, I think that's when the hole inside me explodes open. That's when he finally takes away the last pieces of me that I was trying to hold on to. That's when that boy disappeared.

And nobody even noticed.