Hold Back the Night
Title: Hold Back the Night
Author: Kinwad
Pairing: Brian and Justin
Rating: NC17
Summary: GF Ep.513
Disclaimer: I own nothing w/QAF
“I’m gonna try with all my might to make the storyline come true.” ©Survivor
“You do know why you have to do this, don’t you? Why this is the only answer?” Brian looked at Justin with worried eyes, his lips pressed together. He didn’t have to see the nibbling at the favored nail or the slight sheen on the blue eyes to know what he was thinking and feeling-that it was over, that they were over. Somehow, without giving too much of himself away, even after five years, he had to let him know that wasn’t the case. Regardless of time or distance, they would never be over.
“I think I've already lost you. I think you're already gone
I think I'm finally scared now. You think I’m weak, but I think you’re wrong.” ©R.Thomas
“Why I have to do what exactly?” Justin spat. “Why I have to go to New York because everyone, except the person who really matters, me, says that’s where I have to go to fulfill my fucking destiny? That I have to be all that I can be? That-” God! Why the fuck was it so fucking hard to make him understand, to make everyone understand?
“Cut it out! You sound like every fucking cliché known to man!”
“Oh, forgive me, Mr. Kinney, if I’m offending your fucking sensibilities!” Justin gritted, his voice tenuously close to cracking. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “But you’re so fucking full of fucking shit!” His hands clenched and unclenched as he paced, each agitated stride propelled by increasing anxiety. “I can paint anywhere. Don’t you understand that? Don't you fucking get it? Do you honestly think my talent is magically going to disappear if I stay here? Do you honestly believe that staying is going to suck all the creativity out of me like a bad sci-fi movie? Jesus, Brian! Whether I’m in New York or Pittsburgh or fucking Paris, it doesn’t matter! I’m not going to be any less talented!”
His frustration was steadily reaching epic proportions trying to batter Brian's stone wall of unreasonable determination. Why couldn’t he get his point across? Why couldn’t he make people see that he didn’t want to go, that he didn’t need to go-that he was scared to go?
**
Brian didn't answer. He gazed at the pale landscape of his lover’s face as if he were seeing him for the first time. This man, who was a child when they met, who was supposed to be a one-time fuck, inexplicably tamed the beast and now held him hostage. He may have been Justin’s physical first, but Justin was his emotional first. He was the only one to peek behind the mask and decide that he was worth the effort to strip away the layers of his dysfunctional psyche, the only one to believe in him. He was the only one to touch his heart and not let go.
All this time, he tried to convince himself that he didn't want to be tied down to anyone. No repeats, no regrets. Now? Moments of self-doubt plagued him endlessly, giving birth to an insidious unease that maybe he had waited too long. His painful swallow from a dry throat prompted a hasty visit to the kitchen for another beer, giving him physical distance to regroup and regain control. Otherwise....
Resting his head against the refrigerator, he couldn’t shake the oppressiveness that clung to him like a hot and humid day. After a couple of deep gulps, he leaned his elbows on the counter and pressed a fist to his forehead, thumb circling between his brows to ward off a headache. He decided the only way to get through this abnormal situation was to be normal. When he returned, he deliberately laced his reply with familiar snark. “I’m not brain dead, you twat! Of course, you can paint anywhere! Of course, your talent will still be there!”
He then uttered words that gagged him with their insincerity. “Somewhere deep inside your dick, you know I’m right. You fucking know it! Whether or not you want to admit it, you need validation of your talent. You have to give yourself a chance. You have to at least try, for Christ sake!”
“That’s not it! It has nothing to do with trying. Shit! Why won’t anyone listen to me? Maybe, just maybe, I do know what the fuck I’m doing! Fuck! You are so fucking obtuse!”
"And you're so fucking obstinate!" he retaliated.
They stared in amazed silence until he broke the awkward moment with a sheepish grin. His lips twitched. “Well, that certainly was a mature way to handle things.”
“Brian, I-”
“No! It's my turn now. You already suckered me into playing vocab word of the day.” His resolve to play it normal crumbled.
He had expected Justin’s eruption and had steeled himself for it by rehearsing a myriad of excuses and reasons. What he didn’t expect was his own inability to accept them. An intense bolt of panic ripped through him, fed by a fear that his well-thought out plan to encourage him to go to New York was not the right choice. Maybe Justin was right. Maybe he could stay here and paint and be a huge fucking success. Cut it out, Kinney! He gave himself a mental shake. He could do this. He had to do this.
“Listen to me, all right? And don’t interrupt!” he commanded, his voice hard. “Are you listening?”
“Yeah, fine. You’ve got my undivided attention.”
“This isn’t forever. It’s only fucking time. It doesn’t matter if it’s a week, a month, or a year!” His shaky fingers raked through his hair. With a strangled exhale, he uttered a silent plea. Please give me the strength to get through this without my fucking voice breaking.
He willed himself to give the pitch everything, relying on professional skill to project the invincibility and confidence he didn’t possess in order to convince Justin that he did. He needed him to go to New York feeling safe and secure, free to concentrate on his art without worrying about him or them. It was the very least he could do. After everything he’d been given, after everything he’d taken, it was the only gift he could give.
“I know you think I make a big deal out of the age difference between us.” He raised a hand to stop the usual protestation. “Hold on a minute before you lamely attempt to prove me wrong by invoking your SAT Score Gods. No matter how much I try to ignore it or pretend it doesn’t exist, you’ll always be twelve years younger. That’s never going to change.” The naked admission cut him to the core, the first time in five years that he honestly acknowledged their chronological gap.
He softened and tried to explain. “Shit! You don’t realize! You’re just starting to go where I’ve already been.” He looked at his partner, the simplicity of the rarely used word sending shivers down his spine, and realized that partner was an amazingly accurate term. He’d spent five years trying to deny the inevitable-as much as he loved fucking Justin, he loved loving him even more. And now that he finally grasped the mystery of us and we, it was over before it had a chance to begin.
In life there is nothing more unexpected and surprising than the arrivals and departures of pleasure. If we find it in one place today, it is vain to seek it there tomorrow. You cannot lay a trap for it. Alexander Smith
A wistful smile brushed his face. “It’s not as if New York is across the world, you know. We do have planes, trains, and cars in this century.” The curtain on his eyes parted to reveal the pain at life disobeying his wishes, refusing to follow his desired script. “I’m not letting you go to lose you, Sunshine. I’m letting you go to get you back.”
If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours forever. If it doesn't then it was never meant to be. Bach/Gibran
There was nothing left. He could only hope that his heartfelt confession would make Justin realize what he didn’t want to admit or possibly chose to ignore. Any other words would be overshadowed by a sad emptiness inside, one fostered by the stark realization that everything in life changes and yet you’re supposed to move on as if nothing had. He mused that there was something terribly unfair with the premise.
**
Justin raised an unsteady hand in response, his thumb playing across Brian’s damp lower lip. His forefinger traced along the dark brow, beginning a languid journey down the side of his nose to touch the bow of his upper lip, etching the angles in his mind.
He clenched his eyes shut to hold back the tears. If he surrendered, he’d drown. So he squinted through the film, reluctantly giving himself permission to understand, accept, and even grudgingly admit that right now, staying would tear him apart as much as leaving. Brian was already changing, morphing into someone he didn’t know, didn’t like. He couldn’t risk their demise as resentment and guilt choked the life out of them.
I swear by my life and my love of it that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine. A.Rand
Brian was encouraging him to go in the hope he’d return a confident artist, secure in his talent, and a confident man, secure in his love. He also knew that Brian realized there were no guarantees, no carved in stone declarations that he had to return and yet, he was willing to take the chance...because he loved him.
He snaked his arms around his neck, kissing him slowly, deeply. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you. I love you. I’m never going to stop saying it, never going to stop feeling it.” He pressed his body closer, lips roaming over the sculptured face. “I love who you are, what you are.” They fluttered down the throat. “I love your face, your eyes, your hands.” They brushed across the jaw. “I love your body, how you make me feel.” He cradled the stubbled chin. “We were always meant to wind up here, together.” We were always supposed to find each other, be with each other.” He molded himself against the well-toned body, desperate to feel every part of him, needing the memory to survive New York until he returned. “No one but you. Always.”
“I can feel the hand of fate reaching out to both of us.” ©Survivor
It unraveled him, the love he felt for this man. As if he couldn't hold it in, he opened his mouth and poured himself into the kiss, willing Brian to accept the love that overflowed from his heart. The intensity left him breathless. A sudden, primal need to touch and lick and suck took hold, whirling him out of control. He furiously scrabbled at the buttons on Brian’s shirt. “I have to...I mean, you have...”
“Hey!” Brian gripped his shoulders and pulled back with a lopsided grin on his face. “We’re okay, all right? We’re fine.”
He nodded, then blurted out the thought circling in his head. “Do you know that I pretty much loved you from the first moment I saw you?” He had no idea why he felt the need to say that out loud and waited for the inevitable smart-ass comment from the Kinney collection of stock answers.
Brian smoothed his hair and whispered, “I know.”
Taken aback by the honesty, an onslaught of emotion tossed his insides. His head spun as they inched toward the bed, shedding pieces of clothing with a sense of urgency. When Brian draped his body over him, the naked heat scorched his skin like a brand of burning metal. He couldn’t get enough of his scent, his touch, his taste. No one had ever brought him to this wondrous place. No one else ever would.
Intent on committing every detail to memory, their mouths tasted and their hands explored, as if each kiss were the first and each touch were the last. The potency of their desire was an intoxicating cocktail. They were insatiable, devouring each other in a carnal feeding frenzy of tongue and mouth, muscle and skin, hands and teeth, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy their hunger.
When Brian edged past the first ring of muscle, he moaned his name like a benediction. He repeated it with each push forward. No matter how many times they did this, no matter how many ways or places, it was always unpredictable and new. Heightened over the years by intimate familiarity, each intuitively sensed what the other craved, what the other needed before he asked. He had to believe there would always be more of this, because this was everything. This was all.
* *
Buried in the tight channel, Brian gasped as muscles contracted around his shaft, sending frissons of pleasure through every pore. His head jerked up and their eyes locked. He was inside there also, he realized in awe, in the deep well of ocean blue. “Hold on,” he panted, his voice rough with restraint. “Give me a minute.”
“There’s a story in my eyes.” ©Survivor
In an overdrive of passion, Justin cupped his neck and roughly pulled him closer. He inhaled his aftershave, his cologne, his unique musky smell. The scented aphrodisiac overloaded his senses and shut down his brain, reducing him to a tautly stretched rubber band of need, incapable of rational thought. Raking his nails across the sweaty shoulders, he crushed their lips together in a brutal kiss and pushed his tongue into the wetness. He mapped its surface with greedy swipes, savoring the taste of beer and cigarettes. When his lungs screamed in protest, he pulled back, gulping for air.
Brian didn’t have time to wonder about Justin's primal growl. He was too distracted by the obscene sucking of his tongue, as if it held the mysteries of the universe. The hypnotic in and out, in and out, shifted him into overdrive. He moved in perfect harmony with Justin’s mouth, naked flesh gliding against naked flesh, each powerful thrust igniting another burst of arousal. In total control of this last ride, his raspy voice gritted out like sandpaper, “Feel! Just fucking feel!”
Justin’s lids fluttered open. All his love was reflected in the hazel eyes gazing down at him. Too much, he thought. It's all too much.
“Look into my eyes, you will see what you mean to me.
Search your heart, search your soul.
When you find me there, you’ll search no more.” ©B.Adams
“Oh, God, I-” He choked on his words as Brian’s torturous rhythm sped up, powerful and masculine, driving in deep, deeper before withdrawing almost all the way. Intent on pushing them to the limit, he’d relax the pace when they were on the verge of euphoria and then pick it up again...accelerating and braking, speeding up and slowing down...propelling them to the precipice.
“I can’t hold back. I’m on the edge. Your voice explodes inside my head.” ©Survivor
Sometimes an entire universe can exist in a single moment, when expression and emotion coalesce with meaning and intent, freezing the frame in now and reducing the before and after to nothingness. They came together, sending each other into a freefall of ecstasy and love-one man by a single tear falling unbidden on his ivory face and the other by a strangled admittance, “In case I forget to say it again, I love you.”
As frantic breaths slowed to contented sighs, Brian murmured, “Remember tonight so that no matter what happens, no matter where we are, I'll always be with you.”
Stay until the morning comes, my handsome prince.
Til the moonlight fades and the fire shines.
Stay with me to see anew a brand new day for me and you.