Say My Name #16
Chapter 16: By Request
“How’s the happy couple this morning?”
Justin and Brian both looked over and saw Michael poking his head into the hospital room, wearing a ridiculously wide grin. With a single exchanged glance, they agreed to remain silent and wait for a cue from Michael.
Brian slowly pulled his hand from Justin’s. He used his elbows to prop himself up in bed and greeted his best friend with his usual, knowing half smirk. “Sadly, I can think of happier moments I’ve spend on my back.”
“We’ll get back to that soon enough,” Justin assured him quickly.
“You might wanna let him get out of the hospital before incapacitating him again.” Michael missed Justin’s forced smile as he walked to the foot of Brian’s bed. “So are you excited to go home today?”
“Today?” Justin’s eyes darted from Michael to Brian. Brian successfully hid his surprise.
“Isn’t that what your doctor said?” Michael asked innocently.
“But isn’t it too-”
“See there, Mikey?” Brian interrupted Justin. “You ruined the surprise.”
Michael giggled, pointing at Justin. “He looks pretty surprised to me.”
Justin rested a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “Are you sure? How do you feel?”
“Good as new.”
Brian ignored Justin’s concerned look as Michael prattled on. “I’d take you home and give you a proper homecoming but I wanna go over to Mel and Lindz’s and spend time with Jenny Rebecca. I’m gonna bite the bullet and brave the bare breasts to be there for a feeding.”
Brian cocked his head to the side in mocking adoration. “Why Mikey, becoming a dad has made you so eloquent.”
“You think so?” Michael asked earnestly.
“Don’t worry, I’ll give Justin a ride home.”
“I think your doctors would prefer it if you let Justin drive.”
“I guess I should bring you something to wear, too,” Justin added quietly, slipping off the bedside.
“See that? Aren’t boyfriends great? Perfect for a hundred and one uses. Even though I’m sure you’re only interested in the one.”
Michael’s presence was forgotten briefly while Justin and Brian shared an awkward silent moment. Justin tried in vain to read Brian’s expression. When Brian gave no clue, as usual, Justin leaned in and planted a kiss on Brian’s lips. “I’ll go get things ready at home. You’ll be okay?”
“Aren’t I always?”
“I’ll be back soon.”
Before Justin was even out the door, Michael had replaced him at Brian’s bedside.
“Don’t you have enough to worry about without you and Justin playing wrestle mania? I mean, you practically killed yourself doing the Liberty Ride.”
“If one more person starts listing off my supposed frailties, I’m gonna fucking kill someone,” Brian huffed.
“Better not be me, I have a kid to raise. And so do you, for that matter. So think about that before you go on your killing spree and land your ass in prison.”
Brian was only half listening. His eyes drifted to the door Justin had just disappeared behind. “I should have let him go, Mikey.”
“What?”
“Made a clean break when I had the chance,” Brian added at half voice.
Michael cast a look towards the door. “Oh, not that again. Brian, Justin hasn’t left this hospital for two days.”
“That’s what you think.”
“That should be a pretty clear indication that he’s not gonna leave you. One ball or not. Bruised brain or not. He loves you. Get use to it.”
Brian finally looked at Michael. “Then you haven’t heard the latest from Hollywood yet, have you?”
Michael began to beam again. “Sure I have. We got a greenlight. They’re gonna make Rage into a movie. Which means Justin and I have to brainstorm over ideas and storyboards for Brett, so he’ll be spending every waking moment with me for a while. Well, at least every waking moment when I’m not over Mel and Lindz’s spending time with Jenny. But that doesn’t mean Justin’s going anywhere. You can have him back, all to yourself, soon enough.”
When Brian didn’t respond, Michael jabbed him lightly on the side. “You’ll be less cranky once you can sleep in your own bed, surrounded by memories of all the fabulous tricks you’ve had there. Not that you do much sleeping in that bed.”
“Brett offered him a job.”
“Offered who a job?” Michael asked off the cuff.
Brian sigh, annoyed, wondering how long Michael would have baby on the brain, impeding all other coherent thought.
Realization hit Michael broadside. “Who, Justin?”
“Who else Justin,” Brian answered impatiently.
“What kind of job? Why didn’t he tell me?”
“As assistant art director on Rage and he didn’t tell me either, until just now.”
“That little creep has been holding out on all of us! On me! He hasn’t said a word,” Michael whined.
“Well, daddy, you have been a little busy lately. And I’m guessing he only told one person.”
“Who?”
“Daphne. That’s what they were trying not to say in front of me. Although I don’t think Randy knew if I knew. Christ, now I need a script to keep it all straight.”
“What’re you going on about? Who’s Randy?”
“Just a guy who slipped from his own parallel reality something or other, and landed on my loft floor.”
“Since when do you know anything about alternate realities?” Michael’s grin bloomed yet again. “My comic book speak has finally sunk in, huh?”
“No, he was really here.”
Michael tilted his head playfully. “Maybe, Justin’s right. Maybe you do need to stay a little longer. Have them examine your head again.”
“There’s nothing fucking wrong with me.” Brian flexed his wrist, flinched at the pinch. “If someone, anyone, in a white coat has signed off, you can bet your ass I’m getting the hell out of here.”
Michael threw his hands up. “Okay, fine. Just asking.”
Brian’s gaze fell on the door once more. Suddenly, he sat up and stretched his limbs, flexed his back. “I need your cell.”
“You’re not supposed to use cell phones in a hospital,” Michael chided.
“You’re not supposed to smoke in ‘em either.”
Michael eyes widened the same moment his jaw dropped. “Don’t tell me-”
“Okay, I won’t.” Brian held his hand out, waiting.
Michael dug in his pocket and handed Brian the small phone. “What’s so important that it can’t wait till you get home?”
Brian began to dial intently. “It’s a surprise.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Justin didn’t think about why the keys to the ‘Vette were in his pocket, or how he knew exactly where the car was parked. He didn’t bother to question how he even got home, since he remembered nothing about the drive back. The road was the last thing on his mind. Thank god for muscle memory.
The loft was exactly how he remembered. Brian’s suit lay on the floor and across the chair, his tie dropped on top. The smell of rosemary still lingered.
What was he going to do?
Justin pulled the loft door shut, hoping to propel himself into action.
It worked. He dumped the dried-up chicken and shriveled asparagus into the garbage and wiped down the counter top. He straightened the curtains that were in disarray for some reason, slightly open, slightly rumpled. He realigned his light cube with the wall the way Brian liked it. He gathered Brian’s clothes and put them in the laundry room, sorting the dry cleaning only from the machine washables. He changed the sheets and made the bed, only to come across the small slip of paper on the nightstand. His fortune.
Stick With What You Know. Distrust Novelties.
Justin wasn’t sure what it meant that he found the fortune, not under the cube where he originally hid it, but by the bed; the same place he left it while he was in the real world.
Maybe it meant more of the same. That it really happened. That he really is real.
Justin pulled his sweater over his head, preparing to take a shower, when he heard the loft door open.
He met Daphne halfway into the living room. Her face was such a welcome sight, until she shouted at him.
“What are you doing here?”
Justin stopped in his tracks. That wasn’t the reception he was expecting. “I live here. What are you doing here?”
“Brian asked me to bring some clothes for you because you’re coming home today. Only you don’t have any clean clothes at my place.”
“When did he ask you to do that?”
“Don’t change the subject,” Daphne said, frowning. She crossed her arms, fuming. “Justin, I swear, if you left the hospital before the doctors said it was ok-”
“Daphne, Brian’s the one in the hospital.”
Daphne’s nose wrinkled with confusion. “Since when?”
“Since I just left him there. He’s the one that got hurt, not me.”
“But I saw Brian carrying you out of here, over his shoulder like you were dead or something.”
“He carried me?” Justin mimicked, not sure how he felt about that piece of information.
Daphne stepped closer. She touched his arms, scanning his body, trying to decide. “He tried to get you to the hospital like all day from what I could tell. But you wouldn’t leave. So he threw you over his shoulder and whisked you out the door. It would’ve been sweet if you didn’t look like you were dying.”
“Dying?”
Daphne stepped a little closer. She reached up to run her fingers through Justin’s hair. “Justin, you totally blacked out. Did you faint or something?”
Justin batted her away, irritated. “No! And will you cut that out? I’m starting to feel like I’m trapped in a fucking shampoo commercial.”
“Then what happened?”
“I… don’t know. I don’t remember.”
Suddenly Daphne gasped, causing Justin to jump a little. “Oh my God! Justin? Is it you? I mean, you’re not actor guy anymore, are you?”
“Shit, you met him!”
“Yeah.”
“So you know what happened?”
Daphne’s nose wrinkled again. “Well yeah! It was the weirdest thing ever. But still so cool.”
Justin drifted back to the steps and sat down on the landing. “Michael is at the hospital with Brian now. He doesn’t remember anything that we remember. It’s like Brian was always the one in the hospital.”
Daphne sat down with him, thinking. “Maybe only the people you interacted with remember. That would make sense actually. Kinda like if a tree falls in the forest and no one’s there to hear it, does it still make a sound kinda thing.”
“So you remember because you met Randy?”
“Probably.”
“Did he meet anyone else?”
“Oh, shit.”
“What? What!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“No, I’m fine, I…I just got back.” Justin walked the middle of the loft, shaking his head, the cordless phone glued to his ear. “I’m sorry, I… He did?… I wish he hadn’t done that… I know but I’m fine. I’m just a little tired and… Mom, let’s talk tonight… When do I ever not call?… Yesterday doesn’t count… No, please, please, do not come over here… Mom… Mom, call me later and I promise I’ll explain everything.”
Justin stopped pacing and listened from the center of the loft. “I know…I know… Mom… I gonna go… Me too… Bye.”
Justin stared at the phone for a few minutes after ending the call. He sighed and rejoined Daphne at the bedroom steps. “It doesn’t sound like he talked to her. She said I was asleep the whole time. I hope he didn’t talk to her.”
Daphne watched Justin fondle the cordless phone nervously, then decided to let loose her excitement. “He was a total spaz. He kept flying around the loft like he was afraid his ass would explode if he actually sat down. God. He was so intense. He totally needs to start using decaf. And you should have seen his face when we finally figured out what was happening.”
“You figured it out?”
“Of course I did. You know between you and me, I’m the best person to have around in a crisis. Although I still can’t figure out why all the cool stuff happens to you. So did you get to meet the real Brian?”
“Brian is the real Brian.”
Daphne nudged Justin hard. “You know what I mean. The guy that plays Brian.”
“His name is Gale.”
“Who ever heard of a guy named Gale? Oh well, is he really an I-don’t-give-a-shit, super homo with a canon between his legs?”
“Daphne!” They both laugh, shocked.
“Hey, we’re best friends. I at least get lusting privileges. So!?…”
“From what I could see, no,” Justin answered modestly. Next he turned and stared hard at Daphne. “So explain that, since all this makes so much sense to you. How could he be Brian and his dick be so… average?”
Daphne's eyebrows suddenly arched. “It’s a question of realities. In ours, Brian is majorly hung. In that reality, he’s not even Brian, he’s the guy that’s pretending to be Brian. As long as it’s in the script, it’s true here. In that reality, they have to pretend. You are so lucky. You get to have the real thing. Which would also explain Michael not knowing what happened. It didn’t happen for him, so it’s not real for him, even here. He’s not part of that reality.”
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Makes sense of just everything.”
“It takes a practical mind, m’dear.”
“And it doesn’t bother you at all that you, that all of us, could just be made up? The figment of someone’s fucking imagination?”
“In that reality, I’m a figment of someone’s imagination. Here, I’m real. We’re all real. It’s not like our lives are gonna end just because a TV show gets cancelled or something. It ends for the people pretending to be us and the people who think we’re not real. Here in our reality, we’ll still be living our lives, laughing, crying, falling in love, dying.”
“That’s real poetic, Daph.”
Daphne sat up proudly. “I have my moments.”
“So what does your practical mind think I should do about Brian?” Justin asked quietly.
Daphne shrugged playfully. “Wait until you guys are in the bed before you start fucking around from now on.”
“That’s not what I mean. And you can forget about only fucking in bed, that’ll never happen.” Justin threw Daphne a sheepish look before saying; “He figured it out, about the movie and the job offer, before I could tell him.”
“I told you not to wait!” Daphne demanded.
“I know, you were right, I know,” Justin replied weakly. “But it’s too late for that now. So what do I do now?”
Daphne flashed Justin a hopeless look and sighed. He felt her head come to rest on his shoulder.
Just as he feared, Daphne was out of answers. “I don’t know what to do, Daph. He’s already started pushing me away.”
Daphne lifted her head. “You can’t let him push you away Justin.”
“I don’t know how to stop him.”
“Just don’t let him! Push back.”
Justin stared into Daphne’s face. Her brown eyes were shining and her nose gave a rambunctious flare. It felt good to have her next to him. Electric and calming at the same time.
“I love you, Daph.”
Daphne stopped grinning and looked back at Justin, touched. “I love you, too.”
“In a platonic, straight, best friend kinda way.”
“Sure, right.”
“You make a guy wanna switch teams.”
“Really?” Daphne beamed.
“No,” Justin grinned.
Daphne and Justin fell against each other, laughing. “Jerk.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Justin felt his nervousness peak when Brian and he returned home to the loft. Brian had let him drive the “Vette without fanfare. He didn’t refuse Justin’s help hands, but Brian didn’t seem to need any help either.
Brian didn’t seem disoriented or miserable or even a little tired. His concussion was treating him much better than Justin’s had treated him. Justin stole a moment during the drive home to play in Brian’s hair and couldn’t even find a lump like he had. Maybe Brian had more time to heal than Justin did. As far as Justin could figure, they had lost a day, beyond the time they each spent separated in their different realities.
But Justin was glad things were falling back into place. Brian was fine. They were fine. Life could get back to normal. For now.
Justin saw Brian eying the candles right away. A single candle burned on the center of the coffee table in the living room, another on the dining room table.
“They’re linen scented.”
Justin tugged at Brian’s jacket. His partner had worked the jacket half way down his arms when he spotted the candles.
Justin pulled Brian’s arms free and rested a hand on Brian’s back. “Rosemary was still lurking when I got home. I figured I should clean our palette.”
“What self-respecting homo wouldn't have an apartment that smells like sheets?” Brian quipped.
“Are you hungry?” Justin asked, grinning proudly.
"Starving.”
“I could order take out. What are you in the mood for?”
“No take out. Not tonight.”
Justin hung up Brian’s jacket and skipped to the refrigerator. “Um. How about that pasta you like? You know the one with the dries tomatoes?”
“A home cooked meal. Sounds yummy.”
Justin snickered at Brian's use of the word 'yummy'. “Why don’t you go relax? I’ll whip something up for us.”
A flurry of butterflies rise in Justin’s stomach as Brian approached him. He felt a frightened excitement wash over him when Brian caught a hand around his waist and pulled him close. It was foreign and familiar at the same time; as if they were on their first date all over again.
Brian bowed his head and pulled Justin into a deep kiss, his tongue probing further and further into Justin mouth. Justin almost got lost in the ecstasy of it when the cold rolling up his back reminded him they were leaning into the open fridge. Justin gave a laugh and pulled away. Brian just stared down at him, seemingly spreading the taste of Justin’s mouth around in his own.
“I’m gonna take a shower, and shave.”
“Just shower,” Justin urged. “Save the shave for tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“I like it rough,” Justin answered, running his hand over Brian’s whiskered cheeks.
“Even on a Sunday?”
“Especially on Sundays.”
Justin smiled mischievously and kissed his boyfriend again. They parted and Justin watched Brian slowly make his way to the bedroom. The sound of the shower running reminded him that he was supposed to be cooking.
Justin doubted Brian even knew there were vegetables in his own fridge. The Alfredo pasta was a stir fry dish in a bag that Justin simple dumped into a sauce pan and added the dried tomatoes at the end.
He looked up when he heard U2 begin to play in the bedroom.
Brian rarely put music on, unless it was to cover up the sounds of wild sex. U2 was an uncharacteristically thoughtful choice.
Justin smiled. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all. Maybe they weren’t even gonna fight about it. Maybe he should just relax.
Justin found the lid for the saucepan, covered the dish and glanced up again. His silly grin fell away when he saw Brian standing at the windows of the bedroom, watching him. The way Brian stared was unsettling somehow.
Justin mustered an affectionate smile anyway.
Finally, Brian smiled back, before disappearing into the bathroom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Justin had sprinkled dried tomatoes in the ready pasta once he heard the shower turn off.
That was ten minutes ago.
He hadn’t heard Brian moving around or getting dressed.
The U2 CD had started over again.
Justin hesitated. He didn’t want to check up on Brian; Brian would hate that. But the stillness was starting to bother him.
Fuck it, let him be pissed, that’s normal too, right?
Justin slid off the stool and headed for the bedroom when someone knocked on the front door. Momentarily torn, Justin walked to the loft door.
A uniformed bleach blonde stood on the other side. “I have a delivery for Justin Taylor.”
“That’s me.”
Justin smiled nervously when the driver rolled in a three-piece luggage set, silver and shiny. On the lid and handle of each suitcase, there was engraved J. Taylor. They were beautiful.
“There’s a card,” the driver said, sliding the envelope from his clipboard and handing it to Justin.
Excitement slowly subdued Justin’s anxiousness. His grin of disbelief grew wider. He read the card:
This time make sure you take every last piece of your shit with you. ~B
Justin stared at the card, at the luggage, gutted.
“Los Angeles is a long way from home.” Justin turned to see Brian standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He wore his brown Pajama bottoms and his face was expressionless. “You wouldn’t want to forget anything. You might as well start packing now.”
Brian walked back into the bedroom.
“Sign here please.”
Justin glanced at the clipboard and pen before him. Numb.
“Sir?” the driver sighed, still holding out the clipboard.
“Take it back, “ Justin whispered before he really knew what he was saying.
“Sir, you have to sign for this.”
“I don’t want it.”
“It’s paid in full. You have to accept it.”
“The fuck I do. Take it back.”
Justin pulled the loft door open, ignoring the disgruntled mumblings of the driver. Once completely out the door, Justin unleashed his frustration on the door, pulling it shut with all his might. The clang resounded loudly throughout the loft. The steel still vibrated under his hand moments after.
He should have known.
Justin counted to three and turned from the loft door.
Brian stood in the bedroom doorway. “You’re still here?”
He walked away again, out of Justin’s sight.
Justin dropped the card in the wastebasket by the door and walked to the bedroom, gearing up to push back.
“Why would I leave you?”
Brian didn’t hear Justin climb the steps the bedroom. He was surprised the door slamming was not Justin finally leaving for good. He miscalculated how hurtful the card would be. Either he was loosing his touch, or Justin’s skin was getting thicker. Neither prospect thrilled him. “Because you’re so good at it?”
“You mean for the same reason you’re such an asshole all of the time?” Justin answered. “I know Ethan was my mistake, but it wasn't all mine.”
“Well, I’m sure you could think of some other reason,” Brian taunted.
“How about lying to me about going on the Liberty Ride. Oh no, wait. You lying to me all the time, that’s nothing new.”
“I’m getting predictable in my old age,” Brian replied indifferently. “I’ll have to remedy that.”
“Maybe I should leave you over cruising a guy no handed while riding a ten-speed.”
When Brian looked at Justin surprised, Justin simply shrugged.
“Michael can’t keep his name to himself. You really didn’t expect him to keep that a secret. Besides, that’s not out of character for you either.”
“Bet you didn’t see the broken clavicle coming, did you?” Brian retreated to the bathroom.
“It’s assistant art director on a feature film,” Justin reasoned, following after him.
“You told me.”
Brian grabbed a towel and started to dry his hair more thoroughly, wondering how long he would have to endure Justin’s assault. He knew he wouldn’t last very long.
“It could be years before I have a chance like this again. If ever.”
“You’d be a fool not to go for it.”
“Brett thinks Rage could even be a franchise.”
“Well there you have it. The perfect reason not to come back at all.”
Brian threw the towel hard into Justin’s chest and pushed past him. He walked into the bedroom without looking back. It’s the small jabs that hurt Justin the worst.
Brian felt Justin walk up behind him as he reached for the cigarettes on the night stand.
“You’re so fucking quick to count off the reasons why I’d leave! You never talk about the reasons I should stay.”
Brian turn halfway, a cigarette hanging off his lips “Are there any? Because compared to a career in the movies, I honestly can’t think of one.”
“How about you want me to stay? Because it would make you happy.”
Brian couldn’t get his lighter to work. “I told you, don’t do anything for me. I can make myself happy.”
“Isn’t that what it means to be partners? That we’re both responsible for each other’s lives and feelings? I’m responsible for your happiness, just like you’re responsible for mine. That’s what love means.”
Brian shook his head in disbelief.
All blonde twinkies are sentimental. It was the same shit Randy laid on him right before he crashed. “Fucking life imitating art.”
Brian gave up on the lighter and headed for the kitchen.
Justin stepped in his path. “Don’t walk away from me.”
“I’m just following your example."
“Oh my God! How many times do we have to do this? I’m not leaving you!”
“I bet there’s a plane ticket in your future that says differently.”
Brian backed away again when Justin reached for him. He knew if Justin touched him long enough, in the right way, just like Justin always does, then he wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of standing his ground a second longer.
“It’s just for a few months. I’m coming back.”
“Of course you are. I mean after all, you can travel to the moon and back and still never find someone who can fuck you like I can. By the way, did you get your fill last week? Have I fucked you enough to get you through the summer?”
Brian watched Justin’s face grimace in shock. Nice Dig. That should do it.
“That’s not what that was about,” Justin answered firmly.
“Oh really?”
“I was trying to make up my mind.”
“Whether you should leave me?” Brian couldn’t understand why Justin wasn’t crumbling that moment.
“You said the Liberty Ride gave you time to think. Well I did a lot of thinking on the plane back from LA. And I decided to do it, because I didn’t think there was a chance that you would give me what I wanted. And the fucking second I get back, that’s exactly what you do.”
Brian turned away. He couldn’t get to the kitchen so he tried the lighter again. “Guess I still have a few surprises left, huh?”
Justin pushed on Brian’s shoulder, turning him around. “The exact moment I give up, you wanna take a chance.”
Brian turned away; his resolve slipping. “Timing is everything.”
Justin pushed again. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
Brian stepped aside. Justin wasn’t giving up, he wasn’t letting go. “You don’t have to do anything.”
Justin grabbed Brian with both hands. “I’ve never had a choice in where our relationship went. Ever. And you just decide to drop all of it in my lap, at the worst possible time. How fair is that?”
Brian pushed Justin’s hands away violently, shoving him back. “Fuck fair!”
Justin collided with the bathroom doorway and Brian froze. He watched the wind go out of Justin slightly.
Shit! Didn’t mean to do that.
What the fuck! I’m not Gale; I care if you fall.
Justin slowly regained his footing.
“Justin?” Brian fought to hold Justin’s gaze while trying to hide the flood of remorse coursing through him.
Justin stood up from the door jam and approached Brian again. He stood up to Brian, close, as if he were waiting to be struck again. His stone expression burned relentlessly into Brian, unchanging as he spoke. “I made those nights special because I wanted to be sure what I was giving up. That I could give you up. I didn’t know if I could. I still don’t.”
Brian’s will broke with the blink of an eye. Brian gave into the urge to touch Justin’s face.
Justin snatched Brian’s wrist before it could touch his face and held it in the air. “But the true is, I don’t have to give anything up. I just have to come back. And I am coming back.” Justin quickly stepped to the side, kick Brian’s foot from under him and sent them both crashing down on the bed. Before Brian could spend another thought cursing the name Cody Bell, Justin straddled him and had both his hands over his head. “So as usually, you’re still the one in control. You’re the one with a choice to make Brian. Not me.”
Brian resisted Justin's hold briefly, then suddenly laid still, waiting to see what Justin would do next.
“But before you do, just remember; you’re mine. You could go to the moon and back Brian, but no one could ever kiss you, or suck you, or want you the way I do. So get over yourself.”
Brian was lost when Justin drove his tongue into his mouth. He tried to breathe while it toyed with his own tongue and danced across his lips. Intoxicated, he stopped struggling against the hands that had his wrists pressed into the mattress and let the sensation of Justin massaging their lips together remove all will or hope to resist. He knew he would lose this effort to drive Justin away. But he never thought losing so abysmally would have such a wonderful side-effect.
Justin pulled his mouth away; his breath was quivering.
“Say you’ll wait for me.”
Brian was resigned to his defeat the moment Justin found a way to put his hands on him. But Brian didn’t want Justin’s victory to be too complete.
“You can save the Merchant Ivory goodbyes for Hollywood.”
“Say it,” Justin commanded.
Brian looked into Justin’s eyes, wanting to tell the blue pools exactly what they prompted, but found the slightest strength to resist.
“I’ll be here when you get back,” Brian answered. He tried to move his hands, but Justin instantly tightened the grip on his wrists once more, holding him down.
Brian stopped struggling and let Justin stare at his face, lean over him and dive greedily into another wet kiss that soon traveled across his stubbled face and trailed down his neck. He arched his back, thrusting his pelvis upward, trying to coax Justin backward so his ass would rest against his cock. His rocking failed and Justin seemed busy at other sensational tasks along Brian’s jawline.
“You know, if we’re gonna be in this position for a while, wouldn’t you rather be fucking?”
Justin came up for air, sitting lightly on Brian’s chest. Carefully, Justin leaned back on top of him, his ass resting on Brian's target. Slowly, Justin pulled his shirt over his head. “Daphne says that there are alternate realities everywhere. That if you can imagine or write about a place, than it probably exists somewhere. You know what that means, don’t you?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
Justin pulled his T-shirt over his head, slowly. “It means, somewhere, out there, Rage and JT exist.”
Brian smiled involuntarily, ridiculous. “According to the book of Daphne, you’re probably right.”
Justin rolled off Brian’s chest and worked his pants off his hips. “I haven’t told Michael yet, but I have an idea for another installment, maybe even one of the sequels for the movie.”
“Do you?” Brian asked, just noticing that somewhere in the course of the conversation, the voice had surfaced, and it was making his harder.
“We know Rage has been teaching JT about his mind control powers,” Justin began, taking his time kissing Brian’s damp neck. “But the true test of how powerful JT’s skills have gotten is in testing them out on his teacher.”
“Oh, that’s dramatic.”
“So, that’s the idea.” Justin places a hand behind Brian’s shoulder, the other on his hip and begins to nudge him gently. “Of course the trick would maybe be on JT.” Justin continued alternating nudging and kissing. “Is he having his way with Rage because he’s controlling his mind, or is Rage making him think he’s in control?” Justin pressed his warm naked body against Brian’s, nudging. Justin sat up on one elbow, peeking over Brian’s shoulder to see his face. “What do you think?
Brian sighed, knowing he had no choice. He belonged to Justin. Tonight. Tomorrow. Always.
“I’ll let you know.”
Brian craned his neck back and kissed Justin slowly, nuzzled against his chin and kissed his neck. Then he rolled over on his stomach, tucking a pillow under his arms. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensation of Justin’s tongue trailing down the length of his back.
Fuck, it’s gonna be a long six months.
~30~
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