Chapter 5 - No Way Out.

The cops return to the car after about twenty minutes. They don't ask me any questions - my side of the story is irrelevant, obviously - they just read me my rights as we drive away. Justin is still looking after me as the patrol car rounds the corner at the end of his block. The last thing I see is that loathsome Craig yelling at my Sunshine, pointing towards me in the retreating police car, with an ugly bitter sneer on his face.  

At the station I’m informed that Craig is pressing charges against me for assault. Okay, I guess I did throw the first punch, but he got more than a few of his own licks in too. Pressing charges against me is just adding insult to injury. But, whatever - when was life ever fair - I know where I stand in the eyes of these cops and that I won't rate any special treatment around here.

By the time I post my bail and get out of there it’s after 6:00 pm. I clearly hadn't made it back to work and I really hadn't told anyone where I was going when I left. It seems that my absence was noted pretty quickly when I didn't show for a meeting with one of Ryder's biggest clients at 3:30. Believe me, Ryder gives me an earful about that the next morning when I finally do make it back to the office after another sleepless night.  

Even then I probably could eventually placate Ryder if only it hadn't been for Craig Taylor's overactive sense of revenge. See, I’m just leaving Ryder's office after my little disciplinary talk, when a burly looking black guy pushes past the receptionist as I walk into the lobby. The guy looks at me with such outrage and hatred on his face it’s almost palpable, even if I don't know what I've done to deserve it.

"Brian Kinney?" the guy asks.

"Yeah. What's it to you?" I snarl right back.

"You've been served, you fucking pervert," he says thrusting a wad of papers into my chest.  

"What the fuck? What the hell is all this," I demand, gazing in confusion at the documents I'm holding.

"It's a Restraining Order and a Stalking Prevention Order against you, preventing you from coming near that kid you molested. Goddamned fucking pervert. I hope you fucking burn in Hell for this, you bastard." The black guy spits out, looking at me like a piece of dog turd he's accidentally stepped in, then he turns on his heel and stomps out the door.  

To say I’m stunned would be an understatement. I look briefly at the papers crumpled in my fist, but don't have time to try and make sense of them. Unluckily for me, my Boss, along with more than half of the agency, has witnessed this little exchange.  

"That's it, Kinney!" Ryder fumes at me. "You've caused enough trouble around here lately. Your work has sucked and you take off all the time, missing important meetings, without a good reason. Now it seems one of the reasons is that you've been out stalking some kid? Fuck this. You're fired. Get your ass out of here immediately. I don't wanna see you back here EVER!"

Ryder then turns to Dorothy at the reception desk and tells her to call building security to have me escorted out. I’m paralyzed momentarily by all the emotions rushing through me - rage, fear, disbelief, confusion and panic. I’m still standing there in a daze when two security guys come up and, gripping me by the upper arms, lead me to the elevator, out through the main building lobby, and then through the front doors onto the sidewalk.  

I don’t even have time to get my briefcase or keys. I slump down on a bench in front of the building and take several deep breaths until I have my anger and panic under control. Then I pull out my cell phone and call my former assistant, Cynthia, who brings my personal property - keys, briefcase, personal files, my spare suits and other clothes - down to me, smiling her sympathetic smile at me and assuring me it'll all work out.  

Oh yeah - how the hell is this all going to work out? Hmm? I’ve lost Justin - he’s sure I’m a complete nut by now and to top it all off I’ve attacked his father. He’s never going to come near me again. I’m facing a buttload of criminal, and now civil, charges which means I’ll need to hire an attorney, and we all know how fair the legal system is when a fag is the defendant. I’ve lost my job, to boot, which means I have no way to pay for all the legal help I’m gonna need. And, probably worst of all, I can’t do anything to help protect Justin with a fucking restraining order against me - I might as well just go out and buy Hobbs that baseball bat he’s gonna need for all the good I can do now.  

Since I have nothing better to do right now, I sit and read through the Restraining Order and Stalking Prevention Order documents which I’m still holding. The affidavit sworn by Craig, which is attached to the Restraining Order, gives a watered down version of how Justin and I met - without the part about me taking him home and fucking his brains out for the night - which means that my little scene at his house has probably outed Justin to his parents. Great! Another thing I’ve fucked up for him. That must have been what Craig was yelling at him about as the police drove me away yesterday. I hope that Justin is okay and that Craig isn’t being the total asshole to him that I know he can be. Of course, I can’t go see him or call him or take any other action to contact him to find out if he’s okay or not thanks to the lovely legal docs I hold in my hands.  

How did I get to this place, again? I thought that this time around I would do things differently and I would be able to keep Justin. Instead I just scared him away. Face it - even I’m starting to think I’m crazy, why wouldn’t he. Why is this happening to me? Maybe I really am delusional. I can’t be reliving the same year over and over again, can I?

Shit, I need a drink - or ten!

Back at the loft I break open a brand new bottle of Beam and carry it over to the couch where I also break out my stash of pot. I’m planning on getting so wasted that I can’t feel anything - that should solve all my problems, right? *Ha ha* We all know how well that type of pain management works. But I’m short of options here so numbing the pain is the best I can come up with for now.  

Unfortunately, this doesn’t appear to be working this time. The more drunk and stoned I get the sadder I feel. Is it possible that I’ve fucked up worse this time around than I did last time. At least when I stayed out of Justin’s life, he wasn’t outed to his father and his life was likely more stable and happier - at least up until Prom.  

Now? I can just see Craig breaking him down again - the way he did that first time I remember. Justin was so fucking hurt by Craig’s betrayal. I think it was worse for him than for me as a kid. Both of us had to deal with parents that disapproved of us, but with Jack and Joan I never had any expectations that they would love or understand me. With Justin it was different. Up until the day Craig found out Justin was gay, he was a doting, loving proud father. Then, in a matter of minutes, he changed completely and became this hateful, denegrating monster who could abandon his son simply because Justin was gay. And I just set Justin up for this wonderful experience. AGAIN. So, who’s the bigger asshole - Craig or me?

Apparently I can’t do anything right. Why the fuck do I even try? Why the fuck am I still trying? I can’t stop Hobbs - I can’t even go within 500 feet of Justin according to the Restraining Order. Maybe my being there would just make things worse anyway - look what just happened with Craig.

I hate what I’ve become. This sniveling waste of space. I’ve fucked up the only relationship that ever really meant anything to me and no matter what I do I just keep making it worse. And there is NOTHING I can do to stop Justin from getting hurt again.  

The images of Justin lying on the ground of that parking garage in a spreading pool of blood, his face more than just normally pale, how cold his skin felt, how hopeless and useless I felt - all these thoughts are pressing down on me. I CAN’T go through this again. I CAN’T. I WON’T.

I won’t go through this again - watching or even just hearing about Justin getting hurt, maybe killed, is just too painful to even think about. I won’t be living through it again. No fucking way. And, since I’ve always sort of had this particular contingency plan in the back of my brain for just such an occasion, I decide it’s time for ‘Operation James Dean’. Go out in a blaze of glory, forever young and beautiful and no longer having to deal with any of the shit that life keeps throwing at you - that’s always been my plan.  

I don’t have a white silk scarf this time - I haven’t gotten around to buying that yet this time around - but I do have a lovely cashmere scarf that is almost as elegant. This time I’m not going to bother with the romantic shit like the candles and the music, either. I remember exactly how to get the scarf over the beam and precisely which chair I need to use to get the height right. I down the remains of the bottle of Beam and finish off the joint I’m halfway through and then climb up on the chair.  

Oh yeah! I can already tell this is going to be one fantastic orgasm. That first time around I never really finished thanks to Mikey’s interference, but that’s not going to happen this time. This time I’m going to get to enjoy the full effect of scarfing. It feels so amazing already. I see Justin there right in front of me. God, he’s still so beautiful. I can picture his face with that sunshine smile gazing at me with so much love it hurts my heart. And if I just tweak my imagination a smidgen, then I can feel his hands on me jerking me off.  

“Oh, God, yes! I’m cuming, Justin. I love you. I’m coming for you!” I hear myself shouting as my vision starts to go black and the room seems to spin around me faster and faster, then I let go of all my troubles in a mind-bending orgasm.

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*Beep, beep, beep, beep* The fucking alarm is going off. Again.  

Shit - it didn’t work. I thought I would be dead by now and I wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore. I wonder how the fuck I got back to bed? Mikey again, probably. My head is pounding from the amount of Beam I drank last night and I just wish I could sink down into the mattress and disappear. I wonder briefly how long the alarm will continue to beep like that if I don’t roll over and shut it off - will it do that all day or does it shut itself off after a certain period of time. I’ve never let it go on long enough to find out. Maybe I will today.  

But, just as I’m wondering this, someone else turns the alarm off. Probably Mikey, I think. I really didn’t plan on having to deal with a morning after this time so I’m having trouble convincing myself that opening my eyes is worth the trouble. I don’t have the strength to deal with today. And I’m out of pot and Beam so another scarfing attempt is probably out, at least until I can make a trip to the liquor store and to meet Anita. I finally decide not to ever bother opening my eyes again and hope that if I lay here long enough I’ll die of thirst or starvation or something after all. Whatever it takes so that I don’t have to face another shitty day.

“Brian? Your alarm went off. I assume that means you need to get up,” Justin’s voice sings into my ear as he rolls to wrap his left arm around my chest and leans his head against my shoulder.  

“No. Fuck, no. Not again,” I whine quietly, feeling like tears are already starting to leak out through the corners of my tightly closed eyelids. “Please, don’t make me do this again.”

“What’s wrong, Brian?” Justin sounds concerned, he probably looks concerned too, but I haven’t yet braved an attempt to open my eyes and look at him.

“I can’t do this again. I CAN’T. Why is this happening?” I’m asking in a hushed voice, not really directing my questions to anyone in particular, just the universe at large, since I’m pretty sure no one is listening anyway.

“I don’t understand, Brian,” Justin says, his soft lips brushing against my jaw as he speaks and eliciting an unwilling groan from me. “What can’t you do? From what I saw last night, it would seem you can do anything you want. *he he he*”

I have to do it. I can’t resist seeing him again, in my bed, all beautiful after a night of passionate fucking. I open my eyes and see him there, propped up on one elbow and looking down into my face with an adorable, impish glint in his eyes. Then he swoops down and kisses my lips, deep and hot and wet, his mouth open and his tongue seeking entry to my own mouth. I remember what a fast learner he always has been and how eager he always is to try something new. Not to mention that he’s a natural at kissing and sucking and pretty much anything else having to do with those succulent, juicy lips. So, even though I know this can’t be, I don’t even try to resist as Justin’s kisses deepen and his hands start to wander over my body with definite lascivious purposes.  

In spite of the hangover, I’ve still woken up with my usual morning wood, which Justin discovers as soon as his hands venture far enough south. He seems downright gleeful at his discovery - like it’s a miracle or something to wake up with a hard on? And, with all the enthusiasm and teenage spunk he can muster, he dives under the covers to begin using those newly awakened sucking skills.  

Justin starts out with licking - attacking my cock like it’s a popsicle at the height of summer and he’s a kid worried his treat will melt. He licks at my hardened shaft, stroking it with his tongue from the base to the tip over and over. God it feels wonderful. Then, the talented youth tongues at my slit for a moment or two, making little ‘yummy’ sounds at the taste of the precum he samples there. But, when he finally sucks in the entire head and begins swirling his tongue around the head as he sucks and bobs his head up and down rhythmically, I let out a moan like you wouldn’t believe. He’s so fucking talented - and I’m not talking only about his painting.  

My dick hasn’t had this much attention in months - well, it’s been months in my fucked up repeating timeline - so it’s no surprise that I only last about five minutes. That tingle in my balls and the drawing in feeling in my gut mean only one thing - I’m shooting into that gorgeous mouth, spurt after spurt of cum that the boy just laps up as if it was the finest ambrosia. He licks me clean in no time and then his head pops up from under the covers with such a beautiful, smug grin on those coral pink lips that I almost giggle when I see it. I manage to control my laughter only by towing him close enough to kiss, loving the intimate taste of my cum on his tongue and lips.

“Justin,” I moan. “You are fucking amazing, you know that?”

He positively glows at the compliment - I mean he literally glows, his pale ivory skin shining from the inside somehow.  

“I guess I just learned from the best, is all,” Justin says, smiling his sunshine smile back at me and melting my heart a little bit more. Then, looking at the clock briefly, he adds, “mind if I use your shower, Brian. I need to get going or I’ll be late for school.”

“Go ahead, Sunshine,” I gesture to the doorway as he crawls over me to get out of bed, leaving several light, tempting kisses on my chest as he goes.  

I’m still lying in bed when I hear the sound of the water in the shower starting and then Justin yelps a little, obviously getting into the shower before he adjusted the water enough. That little yelp is enough to pull me out of bed, even though I know this entire morning is futile. It simply won’t end well. I’ve already done this three times before and I KNOW it won’t end well, but I can’t resist him. I can’t and I don’t want to, so I follow the noises from the other room and end up in the shower stroking that slender, taut, twink body with the bar of soap.  

Justin is rambling on, in his special way, talking about Gus and the visit to the hospital last night, but all I can think about is that smooth, silky skin that my hands are gliding over and then the soft, golden locks that I’m shampooing. I wish I never had to leave this shower. I’m already so hard again that I know I can’t resist having him again, even though I know it will just make what I have to do later that much harder.

“You up for another round, Sunshine?” I ask and, as he smiles his acceptance, I spin his body around and push him against the glass shower surround, taking him again in the shower.

Mikey walks into the loft just as I’m tucking Justin away into his briefs. Justin is such an amazing young man, I wish that I could keep him. But, my time with him today is almost up and I know that there won’t be anything else after today. He’s so fun and eager right now, so open to anything I might suggest. I almost give in to my secret desires and ask him to stay for the rest of the day. But. . . .  well, it’s just not possible for me to stay this happy and I don’t plan to wait again till it all falls apart. This time I’ll make sure.  

With Justin finally dressed, I allow Mikey to shepherd us out of the loft and down to the Jeep. The ‘Faggot’ spray painting on the side doesn’t even phase me - I’m so used to it by now - and I just get in the car without even pausing.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Mikey asks, waiting on the curb for the reaming he thinks is coming for letting my Jeep get vandalized.  

“No. Get in. We have to take the boy to school, Mikey.” I direct him, as Justin hops over the side and into the back without any direction.  

We scream down the side street next to St. James Academy, almost running over a couple of unsuspecting students who aren’t quite fast enough getting out of the way of the Jeep. I’m in a bit of a hurry, unfortunately, since I still have to get back to downtown and drop Michael off at his work. I have plans and I can’t be late this morning. So, the slug-like students will have to scurry to get out of my way - fuck if I care about their goody-two-shoes asses.  

I’m wary about kissing Justin goodbye in front of his schoolmates, even though that is all I want to do right now. I settle for just touching his cheek briefly and telling him ‘Later’, before I jump back into the Jeep and peel out of there as fast as I can. Mikey’s in a talkative mood as we drive away, but I just want to remember the image of Justin standing in the street and smiling at me as I drive away so I don’t bother listening to Michael’s little soliloquy.  

As soon as I drop Mikey off - as close to his work as he’ll let me get him in the ‘Faggot-mobile’ - I head back to Liberty Avenue. It’s still only ten till 9:00, so I have time. I shuffle into the Diner and seat myself at the counter and ask Deb for a coffee to drink while I kill time. I hand off the photos from the hospital that Michael took to Debbie as I savor my coffee so ‘Gramma’ can gloat over her new grandbaby. I’m not really listening to the drivel she’s babbling at me - Gus is adorable, I agree, but my mind is still focused on this perfect morning I’ve just experienced with the most perfect man I’ll ever know. I’m sorry for Gus, but I can’t help it - I have to do this, I just know that I can’t do this year over again, no matter how it’s going to play out.  

At exactly 9:38 I take a twenty out of my wallet and leave it on the counter to pay for my coffee and a nice little tip for Debbie and head out of the diner. I only glance at my watch once more as soon as I reach the sidewalk in front of the building. Noting that it is precisely 9:40 am, I look to my left and see the reliable #22 City Bus plowing down the street right on time.  

While most of the public transportation in the City of Pittsburgh is not exactly what you would call reliable, the #22 is almost always on time - something I’ve noted many times as I’ve left the Diner after breakfast on my way to work. And, it doesn’t disappoint today. I smile a quiet little smile, thinking again about the perfect morning as I step off the curb directly in front of the speeding bus.

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*Beep, beep, beep, beep. . . .* “Well,” I think, disappointed but trying to deal with the situation which I obviously have no control over, “at least I don’t have a hangover this time around.”