Love's Not Time's Fool P.II Ch.7 THE END
Title: Love’s Not Time’s Fool PART II Ch. 7 FINAL
Author: Kinwad
Pairing: Brian and Justin
Rating: NC17
Time Frame: One year post 513
Summary: “These are the times that try men’s souls.” T.Paine
Prev. Ch: http://kinfic2.livejournal.com/76257.html
First Ch: http://kinfic2.livejournal.com/71248.html
A/Ns: Thanks so very much to everyone who read and commented!
Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and its characters are the property of their owners.
No copyright infringement intended.
The clock ticked, the refrigerator hummed, and the cars honked in the street-a backdrop of normalcy against the muted awkwardness that stretched like an eternity. Justin shifted from foot to foot. So much anxiety pulsed in the normally stoic man, he couldn’t gauge what was in his head. Uncertain what to do, he wrapped his arms protectively around himself and waited. He always seemed to be waiting.
After a few minutes, Brian pulled himself up from the sofa and stood by the window, a chiseled sculpture in pride and bravado, yet a troubled portrait in conflict and torment. “Do you really think it could work?”
Justin struggled not to cry at the almost childlike optimism, but the sting in his sinuses told another story. He pinched the bridge of his nose. No fucking way. “Could what work?”
“Me. Here. You. Us.”
“How many times must I say I love you before you finally understand?” ©J.L.Williams
What would it take, how long would it take for him to see how good they could be together if given a healthy shot at the brass ring? “I do. I wouldn’t have survived this past year if I didn’t think there was a chance. Fuck, I wouldn’t have survived the past six years if I didn’t believe we could work.” He nibbled at his lip. “But you have to believe it. I’m tired of being the little engine muttering ‘I think I can, I think I can’ as I drag you up the mountain. So before I get my hopes up, I have to be sure you consider every fucking possibility, every fucking detail about what you’re getting into. I can’t, I won’t do this again only to have you go off the deep end when you suffer a crisis of the spirit or feel threatened or guilty or cornered or whatever the fuck delusion you conjure up to justify leaving me out on a limb-or worse.
“I’m not asking for monogamy, Brian. Maybe we’ll never get there. Maybe someday we will. Who knows? What I am asking for is commitment.” His throat tightened. Please let me get through this without blubbering. “Fuck, I don’t want to chain you. I just ...I just want to love you.” Damn, this was turning into a fucking Gay As Blazes episode. Did he go too far by wanting it too much? A sure way to lose him was to push him, trap him. Would he walk out without even saying goodbye? He was so quiet, so unmoving, he didn’t think he would answer.
“Are you that sure?”
Jesus, was he sure? He fought to stay upright. The dent in the armor had stolen whatever strength he had and liquefied his bones. Maybe he hadn’t screwed up after all. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“Christ, you of all people know I’m no prize. You’ve had first hand experience. I’m cold-blooded, selfish, controlling-”
His mouth thinned into an exasperated line. “Enough with the self-flagellation. You’ve drunk so much of your friends’ Kool Aid over the years, it’s warped your brain. Stop parroting them and stop believing them because they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. As far as I’m concerned, they can all take a hike. At the very least, they should take a science class. Cold-blooded doesn’t mean cold-hearted. And even though it’s a fate worse than death to admit it, you’re also caring and gentle.” He challenged the huff of disagreement. “What? You are.”
“So I’m irresistible?”
Thank God for the brief return of the smart ass. “You’re the ideal man. But don’t worry, I promise to keep your secret identity.” He braced himself for a typical Kinney response. He received silence instead. Again. The kind that clogged his lungs with a quicksand of fear.
“Why? Why me?”
More physically painful than any blade, the three words stabbed him in the heart and without warning, ignited an inner firestorm of rage. For one brief moment, he hated them all, hated their careless rejection of this man who did not deserve to be rejected. The poignant glimpse into a lifetime of longing showed how deadly a weapon a person’s inner darkness could be. If used by others or worse, himself, it could destroy him. Determination sharpened his chin. “Why not you?”
“Ju- I won’t make promises I can’t keep, and I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.”
He wanted to shake or kiss some sense into him. Both if it would help. But it wouldn’t, and it also wouldn’t be enough. “Did I ask you to?”
“No, but-”
“I can’t promise I won’t hurt you, either. Both of us made mistakes. You don’t get to corner the market on guilt by yourself. There’s more than enough to go around. Look, there are no guarantees in life. But that doesn’t seem to stop anyone. It certainly didn’t stop me. It won’t ever stop me. All we can do is try and hope for the best.”
“So what do we do now?”
He hesitated. “Take it one day at a time?”
“Aren’t you a little young to be channeling an eighties sitcom?”
“I’m not channeling anything. I just-” Without a word, Brian snaked a hand around his neck, curled his fingers in his hair and catapulted his heart into his throat. Lips and soul on fire, he forgot to inhale.
* * *
Justin’s POV:
“All your life you were only waiting for this moment to arise.” ©McCartney
I want to pinch myself. After months and in retrospect years, after all the drama and fucking bullshit, we’re here. I told him I always believed in us. I didn’t tell him how hard it was. This year tested whatever faith I had. I grew more cynical, more disillusioned as time went on. I even went a day or two without thinking about him. It freaked me out. If I could go one or two days, did that mean I could totally forget him over time?
That I’ve been able to have a life without him, not the one I wanted but a life nonetheless, scares the shit out of me. It also makes me angry it was even possible.
Brian’s POV:
“It was not your fault, but mine. And it was your heart on the line.
I really fucked it up this time, didn’t I, my dear? ©Mumford&Sons
His eyes are unfocused, his dick hot and hard against my thigh. Yet, when I kissed him, I sensed a distance I never felt before. He was with me but not all the way. And I have no one to blame but myself. I almost lost him for good. What the fuck was I thinking? Yeah, I know. No regrets. Whatever.
I told myself I never needed anyone. I was better off alone. But I didn't realize how empty I’d been until his teenage waterworks outside the loft. I cut him off when he started with the love bullshit. What the fuck did a seventeen year old know about love? More than I did, obviously. I tried to get him out of my head by giving George Goodfuck the fuck of a lifetime. It didn’t work. Justin’s in my blood. I can’t get him out.
I finally get what’s been bothering me. I’ve known for six years what I wanted but was too chicken-shit scared. I don’t want to get him out.
“Til now, I always got by on my own. I never really cared until I met you.”
* * *
È scritto nelle stelle. (It is written in the stars)
“You know how I know we’re going to make it?”
The breathless question didn’t interrupt Brian’s onslaught of kisses, but the megawatt smile did as it burrowed its warmth into his bones. “Do tell, Mysterious Justin.”
“We have the two things that matter most. Each other. I mean, let’s face it. According to the laws of the universe, there’s no way we should be together. And yet-”
“Here we are,” he snarked. He brushed aside strands of blond hair and shifted his focus to his ear.
“Exactly. So there has to be something more, something from the beginning that made me believe we were meant to be. When you think about it-”
“Um, not that I don’t find the subject of fate and circumstance fascinating, but could we postpone the intellectual discussion until an undetermined date in the future, preferably one where I’m drunk or stoned enough to listen?”
“Fair enough.” Justin put his hand on his chest and gently pushed him away. “But we are going to talk. Not about the cosmos but about us.”
Way to kill the moment, Sunshine.
“We can’t just pick up where we left off. We’re different people. We have to get acquainted with who we are now. If we don’t, all this will have been for nothing. I don’t know about you, but the last thing I want is a rerun of Brian and Justin on the Titanic.”
Brian did his best to look wounded. “You mean I’m not king of the world?”
“Maybe king of your world.”
“Gee, thanks. I see you haven’t lost your inimitable flair for flattery.”
“Ooh, how alliterative! Trawling for compliments?”
“What do you think?” He drew in a breath. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” The dubious expression prompted him to add, “Fine, you are right. It wouldn’t hurt to straighten out some shit but none of that kumbaya crap like Emmett and Mikey’s excellent adventure in faeryland.”
“Agreed. Somehow I can’t picture you prancing around a forest searching for your inner self. Besides, I already found him. But it would be fun to come up with a faerie name for you. And I’d love to see you in a periwinkle strapless chiffon. Hmm, no, not periwinkle. Emerald green. Yep, definitely emerald green-to match your fantasy of being the Wizard of Oz.” He batted his eyelashes and darted away.
Coquettish little fucker. He’d get him later. “Uh, one more thing....”
“You’re awfully bossy all of a sudden.”
“What was it you said about my inclination for BDSM?” When Justin stuck his tongue out, he gave an indulgent shake of his head. “Ah, living proof there’s no correlation between intelligence and maturity. I just want to get this one detail out of the way before we go any further. Can we use a different term other than rules? It didn’t work so well the last time.”
* * *
Justin cringed. Shit. His stupid idea. His fucking rules. Nothing like making them and being the only one to break them. “Guidelines? Parameters?”
“Whatever the fuck you want to call it. I don’t care,” Brian said as he strolled around the tiny space. “So you want us to get reacquainted?”
His insides stirred at the muscular, long-limbed stride. God, the man oozed sex from every pore. “We have to,” he insisted. “I mean-”
Brian spun around with a wicked gleam, and just like that, the earth tilted on its axis. An invisible force sucked the air from the room and harnessed the energy into a swirling funnel of desire and lust. A jungle cat stalking his prey, he slithered into his personal space until they were mere inches apart. “How’s it going? Had a busy night?”
The smoke-husky voice pebbled Justin’s flesh and catapulted him back to a pivotal moment forever linked with this man. As nervous now as he was then, his words came out in a throaty gasp. “Just checking out the bars, you know. Boy Toy, Meathook....”
“Meathook? Really? So you’re into leather?”
Flames licked at his spine and lit a fire in his groin. “Sure.”
“Where you headed?”
“No place special,” he croaked.
“I can change that.”
* * *
The magnet of need was too potent. Like a smoldering ember stoked to life, Brian’s passion roared with a vengeance. He had to be inside him, and he couldn’t get there fast enough.
Leaving a trail of discarded clothing in his wake, he breathed him in and all coherent thought vanished. Under the spell of the scented aphrodisiac, he licked and sucked with a ravenous hunger that gnawed at his bones.
When Justin reached for the condom, he batted his hands away and rolled the latex on with his own shaky fingers. He’d come on the spot if he touched him. He settled between his thighs, cockhead nestled at his opening, and claimed him without apology, without hesitation. Justin’s eyes widened at the burn and held his gaze as he inched deeper into the tight channel. Slick and hot. For him. Only for him.
Like a rollercoaster grinding its way to the top, he set a torturous pace, each thrust igniting a new burst of arousal. When he hit Justin’s prostate, he slid his arms under his shoulders, raised him up, and probed his mouth with the same primal rhythm as the cock in his ass. His muscles twitched from the effort to make the moment last, but the tightly wound coil of need sent the message to pick up the pace, and his strokes became more forceful and urgent.
Before his orgasm swallowed him whole, Justin whispered, “I love you.” And Brian imploded with a strangled groan, pushed over the edge by the depth of love from him and for him. Unburdened at last, he was home.
“Making love with you has left me peaceful, warm, and tired.
What more could I ask? There’s nothing left to be desired.
Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you.” ©A.Hammond
* * *
Justin’s POV:
I drifted in and out of the best sleep I’ve had in months, but I woke up more than once. I couldn’t shake the sense of surreality. Was he really here? Was I hallucinating? I had dreamed this scene so often, I wasn’t sure.
We still have so much to work out and so many decisions to make, but this time it’ll be as adults and equal partners, not a retread of our previous maladjusted phases. I’m not that naive to think this will be easy. Life with Brian never was and never will be easy. But he’s worth it. I’m up to the challenge. I always have been. I just had to convince him.
I can’t keep my eyes open, but I have to look at him one more time before I fall back to sleep, He is a visual feast of naked perfection. He doesn’t need clothes to disguise physical flaws. He doesn’t have any. I wanted my pad and charcoals but didn’t dare get up. If this really was a dream and I moved, it would be over. So I sketched him with my eyes instead.
Brian’s POV:
When I surfaced from my post-orgasmic coma, he was fused to me, his right hand over my heart. I was shocked that I’d covered it with my left.
With the need to piss a priority, I untangled us, careful not to wake him. I don’t know why I bothered, though. Give him a good meal or a good fuck-okay, a blow-your-mind fuck-and he’s down for the count until the next round. I shuffled to the bathroom but hurried back, too afraid he’d say this was a mistake and I should get the fuck out of his life. But lucky for me, he hasn’t moved. I’m not being flippant. I do mean lucky.
I always thought I was the logical one. I knew what was best for him and for us, regardless of the price. But in the end, Justin understood better than I ever did or could. He’s the strongest, most determined fucker I know. He goes after what he wants despite the risk. He got me, right?
I can’t stop staring at him. He tells me without the words he always wants to hear that he’s with me, that he wants me, that I belong to him.
And I’m here because I want to be, because I want him. And I will never let him go again. He knows because I told him. Who says we don’t communicate?
“Come for an hour, stay for the moment, stay for the rest of your life.” ©Styx
~FINI~
A heartfelt thank you to everyone who stuck with this fic!