Chapter 3 - No Regrets?

Here I am sitting in this bar telling all my woes into the sympathetic ear of Moe and getting happily - or not so happily - shit faced drunk. I don't actually know the name of the bartender, or for that matter give a crap, but I'm a huge fan of the Simpsons so I'm calling him Moe and he doesn't seem to mind. I don't even really know where the hell this bar is and I'm pretty sure it's NOT a gay bar. But, Moe seemed to become very gay friendly as soon as he saw my platinum MasterCard and he's been keeping my whiskey glass full and listening to me ramble on about Justin for fucking hours now. I really like Moe.

"I should have told him, Moe. He was the bravest man I ever knew. He put up with my shit for years. Why the fuck didn't I ever tell him that I loved him?" I confess to Moe as the tears again drip down my cheeks - I think I'm getting just a bit maudlin but who gives a crap, right? "And now he's dead and I can't tell him."

For the most part Moe has just been sitting there listening to my babbling without comment. But, now he speaks up, trying to offer actual bartenderish advice. "What about his family? You can't tell this Justin how you feel, but maybe it would comfort his family if you told them."

Moe is abso-fucking-lutely brilliant, isn't he? I suddenly remember Jennifer Taylor and how great a mom she ended up being to Justin. And, I remember how we ended up pretty okay friends, too. She's gotta be just as devastated as I am. I walk around the bar and give Moe a huge bear hug and a big sloppy wet kiss right on his straight boy lips to thank him for this wonderful suggestion. Moe looks like he's about to slug me for about fifteen seconds and then he obviously remembers the platinum card, closes out my bar tab and adds a very generous tip for himself as I sign the credit card slip. Then I totter outside to find a cab.  

First I try Jennifer's condo. The frightened elderly woman living there eventually manages to convince me that she's lived here for over five years now and doesn't know any Jennifer. Okay, I think, in this parallel fucking universe - or whatever the fuck it is - where would Jennifer live if not at her condo?

Back in the dream/not dream, I remember visiting the Taylor residence that one time. And, now that I think about it, it makes sense Jenn would still be there. If I wasn't around in Justin's life this time around, adding just that much more to Craig's latent homophobia, Justin probably wouldn't have been kicked out by his dear old dad. No confrontation in the alleyway behind Babylon and Justin would probably have gone on happily living at home with his family and the Taylors wouldn't have gotten that divorce.  

So, off to the burbs I go, via the liquor store because I'm starting to lose that nice numbing buzz, which is simply unacceptable. Joe, the cabby - again, his real name is irrelevant since he looks like a 'Joe' to me - is very understanding about driving around aimlessly until I finally recognize the Taylor's house. I mean, depending on how you look at it, it's been either five years since I was there that one time, or else I've never been there at all, so it's understandable that in my inebriated state I have a hard time finding it. But, my buddy the platinum Master Card again works it's charm and Joe is more than happy to drive me around as long as I wish.

I finally locate the right street and that little hetero-heaven homestead that Craig & Jenn called home together. I tell Joe to go ahead and take off because I don't have a clue how long I'll be. Then, taking another large swig of courage from my bottle of whiskey, I stumble up the walkway and ring the doorbell.  

Fuck! I wasn't expecting that shit-for-brains Craig to answer the door. Deep breath, Kinney. He doesn't recognize you so just play it cool.  

"Mr. Taylor, I was wondering if your wife, Jennifer, was available?" I ask, trying not to slur my words too much.

"My wife is unavailable. Can I help you, Mr . . . ?" Craig said with only a slightly rude snarl.  

"Kinney, Brian Kinney. I'm a friend . . . I was a friend of Justin's. I wanted to come and offer my condolences to Jennifer . . . We're acquaintances . . ." Okay, that was a bit of a lame start, but I'm going with the excuse that I'm drunk - it has nothing to do with the fact that I have no idea what to say to the asshole father of my never-actually-a-lover who's now dead.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kinney. We were up most of last night and my wife is understandably very upset. She's lying down right now. If you care to leave your number, I can have her call you later." Craig said with that condescending attitude of his.  

Fuck. I know she's upset. That's why I'm here, you jackass. I'm upset too! I really want to talk to her. I feel like I'm about to really lose it myself. This is too weird and much too real . . . Standing here talking to Craig about HIM. About Justin. Fuck, it's real. Justin really is dead?

"Uh. Okay. I'll just go . . ." I stammer as I back away from the door and trip down the walk, crumbling onto the curb.

What the fuck am I doing here? Jennifer doesn't know me from Adam. It was just a dream and I never really did all that stuff I seem to remember, right? So, what exactly was I planning on telling Jenn when I saw her anyway? 'Sorry I didn't save your son. I knew he was going to be attacked last night because I dreamed it already happened but in the dream I was there to help him and he didn't die'? Yeah - that sounds completely insane, Kinney.  

I pull out my whiskey bottle and just sit and sip, not really having any idea what to do next. I just keep seeing all these images of Justin in my head - I let myself remember every minute we were together, every laugh, every touch, every word, every fuck. I miss him. I've been missing him for months but I hadn't been letting myself think about it. Now, though . . . Now that he's gone and I'll never see him again, never get a chance to make it all up to him, I can no longer stop the memories - the dream images - from flooding my brain.  

Damn! The whiskey bottle is empty. I wish I had more. Something inside my chest feels like it's broken. The alcohol seems to help a little with the pain. Apparently, though, not everyone agrees that I should have more booze - that guy over there yelling at me seems to think I've had enough. Oh, it's Craig. Well, fuck him. What do I care what he thinks? I just ignore him and he goes away.

These new fuckers though, I don't think they're gonna go away as easily. That short one over there is yellng at me but fuck if I can figure out what he's saying. Those swirling colored lights are really distracting. Why is he shining that flashlight in my eyes? I wish they'd just go away and leave me alone. Oh - I get it now - they're cops. Oops, looks like I kinda passed out on the Taylor's lawn and Craig wasn't too happy about it. And, now these nice police officers are here to help me home.  

That's nice. I think I'll just go back to sleep and let them take care of me. Maybe I'll go back to dreaming about Justin.

<<<<<<<<<<<<2.>>>>>>>>>>>>

“FUCK! That goddamned alarm! Argh! My head is gonna split in two. Where is the alarm?” I yell as the beep, beep, beep keeps stabbing my brain tissues.  

“It’s over here, Brian. I’ll get it.” I hear the most beautiful voice in the world saying my name and then, thank the heavens, the alarm is shut off.  

I happily roll over onto my left side and wrap my arms around the warm pliant body next to me. I bury my face in his neck and breathe in that sweet, musky scent that is my Sunshine. I feel my entire body relax at the connotations of pleasure that scent always brings.  

“Mmmmm, Justin,” I mumble happily before my brain switches on and I suddenly realize that Justin being in my bed is impossible.  

“Fuck!” I bolt out of the bed at speeds beyond which even I thought were possible. “NO! No. Nononononono. This is NOT possible. You’re fucking dead. It was in the newspaper. I talked to your fucking father. What the fuck is going on here?”

After about two minutes, I realize that I’m standing buck naked at the foot of my bed and screaming at the beautiful blond twink cringing in my bed. He looks a little bit freaked out by my behavior, which isn’t really surprising because I’m acting like a complete lunatic - screaming at him and telling him he’s dead - not really making an impression of overall sanity here!  

I try to calm myself down and manage to at least stop screaming at him. I must still look a little freaky though because the boy is huddled up at the head of the bed as far away from me as he can get without leaving the room. I remind myself to breathe and I slowly sit down on the end of the bed. Then, in the calmest voice I can muster with my heart racing at about 1000 miles an hour, I start asking questions.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. Can you. . . Can you just tell me. . . What’s your name?” I decide to start with an easy one, I hope.

“Justin. I told you that last night, Brian,” he says, looking at me with major amounts of confusion still on his face.  

“Okay. Good. When did you meet me?” Still easy, I think.

“Last night. Don’t you remember? Are you okay, Brian?” Still with the confusion and now a little bit of fear too.  

“Yeah. I remember. But, I just want to make sure what I remember is what you remember,” I start to explain but then stop, because there’s no way to explain what I’m going through without adding to the crazy factor. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen. I told you that last night too, Brian. How high were you?” In spite of how easy these questions are, nothing I’m saying is reassuring Justin regarding my sanity.

“YES!” I sing out, doing a little victory dance around the bed in all my nakedness. “It’s not too late. It’s not too late!”

Justin is eyeing me warily as I do my little dance. I can’t believe my luck. I don’t care what the explanation - if it was another dream, a dream within a dream, quantum time fluctuations, alien life forms or twilight zone television reruns - whatever the reason, all I know is that Justin is alive and I’ve got another chance to make things right.  

Fuck my rules. Fuck all that shit I was spouting before about everything bad being because I let the twink into my life. All I know is that JUSTIN IS ALIVE! I have another chance. I’m not going to let him get away this time. This time I’ll do it right - I’ll be there to protect him, I’ll tell him how much I care about him. Fuck - I’ll marry him! Whatever it takes to make him understand that I want to be with him and protect him and I don’t ever want to feel the way I did when I thought he was dead.  

“Oh, Justin. I’m so glad you’re here and okay!” I say as I practically throw myself on him. “I thought it was too late. Oh, Justin. Sunshine!”

I’m kissing him frantically now. My lips are trying to touch every part of his skin. I kiss his lips and nuzzle at his neck in that one spot right behind his ear that I know gets him every time. God, I  want him so badly - it’s been so long since I’ve had him and I want that perfect ass so bad. I want every part of him and I want to touch and taste and feel every part of him all at once.

“Oh, Justin. Justin. God you feel so good. I want you, Sunshine. I need to be inside you. I need to feel you right now.” I’m not even sure what I’m saying anymore since I’m almost frantic with desire for this wonderful, beautiful man that I’ve missed so much for months and months.

So, I guess that even though I’m being a little bit too overly emotional, Justin is still interested in whatever I have to offer because his protests slowly turn into moans and then I hear him panting. He is rutting against my thigh as I kiss him hard and deep, trying to get every bit of myself inside him at the same time. I thrust my tongue down his throat as hard and deep as I can. I’m probing at his sweet, tight little hole with eager fingers. I would be balls deep in him too if I could stop all my other activities long enough to find a condom. I never want to stop touching him. My Justin. MINE! I’m never letting him go again!  

I grope around on the bed with my one free hand and joyfully find a condom left over from last night - or at least from the last night in this dimension - and I tear it open and roll it on my dick as fast as possible using only one hand. But, before I go ram into that glorious tight deep opening, I have to pause and try to collect myself.  

I want to savor this because, for the Brian Kinney that just spent the last nine months trying futilely to convince himself Justin didn't matter only to have reality crash in on him when I thought Justin was dead, this moment is earth shattering. I am here with the one man I love more than I ever thought it was possible. He's alive and I have a second - or maybe this counts as a third - chance to make things right with us. I want to do this right. I want this to be more than just another great fuck. I want to make love to Justin. Only, I've never tried to do that before and it scares the shit out of me.  

"Justin, I love you. I know that probably sounds crazy to you, but I thought - maybe it was a dream, I don't know - I thought you were dead, though, and it almost killed me. But, here you are. You're okay. We have time to do this right. And I just need you to know how much you mean to me.” I pour my heart out to this beautiful wonderful man that I now know I can’t live without.

Then, I slowly press just the tip of my achingly needy cock into my Sunshine and the soft moan he makes almost starts me crying. As I slide in oh so gradually, I feel that ball of tension that has resided in my gut for the past nine months dissolving and whatever was broken in my chest seems to begin to heal. Yes, this tight, warm embrace, this sweet, caring, talented young man, this is home. I can be whole again.

While I want this to be a long, slow, languid session, drawing out the sense of pleasure for Justin, I know after the first thrust that I simply can’t last. It’s been too long. Not that I’ve been at all celibate over the last few months - get real, I am Brian Kinney - but none of those men have been my Sunshine. The feeling of being deep inside this singular boy is too much for me.  

And, oh yeah - those mewling, whimpering sounds are me, not Justin.  

So, I give up on the slow, long drawn out love making session and just plow the boy’s ass. I’m in and out not more than five or ten times before that drawing in feeling in my balls and my gut tells me that I’m done for. I try valiantly to stop myself, pulling almost all the way out and holding my body still, but then Justin makes just the tiniest little movement with his hips and it’s too much to resist. I surrender to the waves of pleasure inundating my body. I’m convulsing, my muscles all spasming as I feel my cum shooting out into the condom.  

Those sobs and the tears, the moans of something between pleasure and utter, utter abandon - those are me too, I’m afraid.

“Justin, I love you so much,” I cry into the soft blond hair of my beautiful Sunshine as I collapse onto his perfect, soft body. “I’m so happy you’re back, Sunshine. I love you. I don’t ever want to live without you again.”

I know I’m babbling and I’m a teary, blubbering mess - it’s VERY un-kinney-like, but I’m completely out of control by now and once you open the floodgates on all those emotions I’ve been damming up for more than thirty years now there’s absolutely no stopping the deluge. I’m kissing and stroking Justin as I prattle on, still unable to get enough of him. I don’t want to pull out, even though I know I have to soon or I run the risk of losing the condom completely.  

Let’s face it, people - I’m a fucking mess!  

So, is it any wonder that I’m kinda freaking Justin out again? Not really.  

I feel the body beneath me squirming and I finally accept the fact that I need to pull out and roll off him before I crush the boy. Justin never did get off that last time, but he doesn’t seem to be very interested in that anymore. He’s trying to surreptitiously inch away towards the edge of the bed nearest the door.  

"Um, well, I better get going now, I guess," Justin says in a forced casual tone as he rapidly gathers up his scattered clothing. "I need to get to school, you know."

"Right! School. You need to get to school." I say, wiping at my face as I hop out of bed, following Justin's every movement with my eyes. "You don't need to rush off, Justin. I'll drive you to school like I always do. Let's go get a shower first, though."

"Oh, um, that's okay. I'll just take the bus. You don't need to bother Brian. Really,"

Justin is almost fully dressed already so I guess we aren't going to get that shower. I start to grab up my own clothes and dress too. I follow Justin out of the bedroom as I awkwardly stuff one leg after another into a random pair of jeans I find.  

"No, really, I want to drive you, Sunshine," I say as I come up behind Justin and wrap my arms tightly around him, nibbling at that perfect shell-like ear.  

"Actually, you can't," Justin replies as he peels my arms off of him. "Michael has the car since you were too high to drive last night."

"Oh, yeah. No matter though, as soon as Mikey gets here to pick me up we'll take you to St. James'."

"Brian, how do you know where I go to school?" Justin asks as he turns around, eyeing me suspiciously. "I never told you where I go to school."

"Of course you did, Sunshine. I've been there tons of times," I add, not really thinking about what I'm saying in my happiness. "On second thought, though, why don't you blow off school today and we can just hang out. I'll just call up and pretend to be Craig and tell them you're sick or something. Come on, Sunshine, let's just goof off together today."

"I never told you my dad's name," Justin insists, backing away from me towards the door, tinges of panic in his voice now, which finally seep into my giddy consciousness.

"Sure you did - last night," I try to convince him.  

"No, I didn't. I think I'm just going to go now, Brian. Okay," Justin says as he pulls open the loft door and backs out, watching me like he's prepared for me to jump him.

"Okay. I could pick you up after school though. We can do something then," I offer.

"No! No, that's okay," Justin is saying as he starts down the stairs. "Last night was fun. Thanks. But, um, I'm not looking for more, you know."

This is not going well. Justin is NOT supposed to just say goodbye and run away out of my life. Why is this not going right?

"Justin," I yell at his retreating back which is already rounding the landing. "When can I see you again? Please, Justin. I can explain. Justin!"

It's too late though - the boy has already raced down the stairs and I hear the sound of the front door latching closed. I groan. 'Sunshine, come back'.