(no subject)
CowLip owns the characters. This is not profiting me.
Written for the "Worlds Apart" challenge at neverenough_bj.
Thank you, jans_intentions, for the beta.
Warning: Brian/other, angst.
Homecoming, Part 3
Brian watched the door shut behind Justin. He knew he had to let him leave, even though he wished he could rewind the day, and hit a pause in the middle of those twenty minutes when he had awoken and felt Justin’s body next to his, and pushing into him, needing to be inside his beautiful boy. Bodies seeking and finding what had been missing for so long, fucking him awake, the clock ticking.
You’re here, he’d said, and he wanted so much for Justin to understand him, and he must have because he stayed, he opened up to him, and they’d loved hard all night.
“Brian?” Adam asked now, the strain of tears in his closing windpipe. “Please, say something.”
“What do you want me to say?” Brian asked.
“I love you!” Adam said, and looked stricken. It was the first time he’d said it, but he seemed to come to some decision even as the words hung on the air. “I do, and I thought we were moving toward something.”
“What was wrong with what we have?”
“Why are you risking us?”
“I’m not going to do the drama thing,” Brian said, losing patience. “I’m taking a shower. You can leave or not.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Fine,” Brian snapped, and moved toward the shower.
He had met Adam at Lindsay’s gallery. Adam’s was the first show she had organized since moving back after the disastrous excursion to the wilds of Canada. Apparently, the breakup had been traumatic, worse with the children involved old enough to know what was going on. Gus was still crying for his sister. He told Brian he felt that he was a bad brother because she was taken away from him. Brian was furious, and had thrown as much money as Michael needed to regain custody of his daughter, or at least get J.R. and Mel’s ass back in the state. All the toys in the world, all the trips to the zoo and whatever hellacious kid places he could dig up in Pittsburgh and the surrounding area had not helped very much in restabilizing Gus’s emotional world, which had paid a heavy price for the end of Lindsay and Melanie’s relationship.
He had met Adam at the first night of his show, and the man had interested him immediately. Of course he wanted to fuck him. He did fuck him, in Lindsay’s office, as reviewers and patrons alike no doubt wondered where the artist had gone, and Lindsay covered the absence, as usual. Adam was well traveled, settling in Pittsburgh for a stint of teaching at Carnegie Mellon and his show at the Bloomberg, with possible plans to remain if things worked out, not only at the university, but between him and Brian as well. He had not said as much, but Brian knew. At first, Adam had been a fuck, like all the others since Justin left. A more interesting one, but he was a trick in a host of them, filling up the hole left in the absence of the only one who mattered. The filler of random tricks wasn’t working; they had become boring and annoying, more effort than the pursuit was worth. At night, after Brian had showered the smell off, he would lay in his empty bed. The old relief and contentment with his beautiful loft, his ongoing successes as an ad man, his knowledge that he still had appeal to random men, none of that lulled him to sleep anymore. Instead, he lay awake and conscious of what wasn’t there.
Adam had truly become a fixture in his world, not when Deb got her claws into him, or through Adam’s collaboration with Ben over a course involving gay imagery in photography, so much as when Adam took an interest in Gus after Lindsay had gotten him to look after the boy one evening. Apparently, she and Adam had bonded over his work, and spent time together outside the gallery. Gus got his first camera from the photographer, and for the first time in a month, Gus showed a real enthusiasm for something beyond the mindlessness of video games. He had taken to obsessive absorptions, throwing a ball against a wall for hours on end, playing video games without expression, and staring blankly at the television. Once, Brian had walked into the Lindsay’s living room, and Gus was staring at the television screen. The television had been off. That had scared the holy hell out of Brian.
But it wasn’t just Gus. When Adam was around, that deep-seated ache that Brian carried around, an ache that bloomed into a fresh harvest of pain when Justin broke off communicating even sooner than Brian had expected, all that abated. Adam brought new life not just to the son, but to the father as well, and before Brian knew it, he wasn’t really tricking much, or even at all, just fucking Adam whenever he was around. And he was around a lot. It had seemed that Adam was the flavor of the month; suddenly around everywhere, and then in Brian’s life. It was just so easy.
As Gus developed an interest in photography, Adam helped him with camera settings, helped him to take pretty damn good pictures for a child his age. And Gus would squeal, and turn to Brian, calling, “Look, Daddy, look at this!” and show him the picture. Upon arriving home, Brian would sit Gus on his lap in front of the computer, and they would go through the pictures Gus took on his “hunting trip” as he called them, “shooting” things out in the wild. Gus and Brian took these photography field trips alone, just the two of them, but Gus liked Adam to go along when he was around. So did Brian. When Adam was with him, he didn’t think of what wasn’t there.
Adam even helped in some of Kinnetik’s campaigns, offering his expertise on the photography of the Sheer Gloss Lipsticks campaign, showing his diversity in judgment of commercial art and fashion models. He was talented, and interesting. The family liked him, and as soon as Debbie had her talons in him, he was a regular at dinners at her house. Brian didn’t correct them when they called Adam his “boyfriend,” even though he wasn’t. Adam was the guy he fucked, a guy he could talk to, who knew to cover his teeth for oral sex and could touch the spots that turned Brian on without Brian having to direct him. Brian’s boyfriend had broken up with him, but Adam drew the pain away, a pain Brian didn’t want to admit he had, but a pain he couldn’t really deny deep in the morning at three a.m. When Adam was there, he had distraction, and sometimes three a.m. passed without Brian noticing.
He knew he was a bastard to Justin, that Justin had expected him to come to New York, or at least talk to him. Justin didn’t have the resources to make sure they would see each other as much as he had said he wanted. But long distance relationships didn’t work. Brian was tactile; he needed to feel Justin under him, on his tongue, in his mouth, between his legs. And those emails, in which Justin raved about New York, they only sharpened the edge. Brian knew, he knew New York was fantastic, of course he knew, it was everything he’d ever wanted, and everything he’d never have.
Just like Justin.
He couldn’t tell Justin, don’t call me, don’t email me, you’re hurting me too much. Because he fed on those emails, on the echo of a desire he couldn’t seem to let go. But it was only time, only time before Justin committed himself fully to that life away from Brian. All the emails revealed that fact; Justin was pursuing that new life, and there was no real space for Brian there. Brian had a fully realized life of his own in Pittsburgh; he was set. There was only room for quick visits, stolen time. He loved Justin, he still did, and always would. But Justin’s art demanded a life that excluded Brian. He was too young to limit his choices now, no matter what he said. Justin’s leaving, all those emails, underscored that he was moving on. …knowing how way leads onto way/I doubted if I should ever come back…* Justin was gone, his communications a voice echoing back to Brian from a future that was all too clear.
But suddenly he was back. Brian had not expected that, not at all. He had expected Justin to keep moving forward. And frankly, he was fairly pissed about his reappearance. Pissed, and deeply conflicted. God, he wanted him, he wanted him! Wanted something he could never have. The pain of the months after Justin had left was so deep, and he had no wish to reexperience that deep loss. But when Justin had come to his loft the night before, confused and oh so touchable, he proved too much of a temptation.
Brian was grateful Adam was there for Justin’s reappearance, and he knew he would rot in hell for feeling that way, grateful for Adam not because he cared for him and the man was a support, no, Brian could bear the pain on his own if he must, difficult as it was, thank you very much. Adam was a shield. The feeling of abandonment was still too fresh. And now Justin was back. By his own admission, he was back for school, because in New York, people were a dime a dozen, and those without degrees were a penny a dozen. Justin realized he wasn’t positioned properly, and he’d come back to finish degree, and then take it with him when he left again. New York had chewed Justin up and spit him out, but it had done that to a lot of people. Justin was the most resilient fucker he knew. He was also ruthless. He went after what he wanted, even though he never considered the consequences of those goals to other people. Selfish little fucker. Brian was damn proud of him. That ruthlessness would take Justin far, as it should. Justin was the hottest little shit on the planet, and he’d become a big hot shit, soon enough. As it should be. The kid was not done with New York, not by a long shot. And he’d leave again. It’s what he did. Justin would be off to New York again with his degree, to the next shiny new horizon, leaving Brian to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart. It was a fucking cliché.
As he toweled off, he realized he probably should have been more honest with Adam. But he hadn’t expected Justin to return, not for more than short visits, anyway. And the truth was, he hadn’t promised Adam anything. Well. Maybe it was time to change the status quo. Maybe the status quo had changed the minute Justin stepped back into the city limits. Maybe the status quo had changed permanently the minute Justin stepped foot on Liberty Avenue.
Brian stepped out into the bedroom, where he pulled a pair of jeans and a black tank out of the drawer. He stepped down the stairs, and toward the kitchen. Adam had made a pot of coffee, and sat on one of the stools, waiting. Brian sat on the stool next to him, and picked up the mug of coffee with sugar that Adam had placed there for him. He took a deep sip and rubbed his jaw.
“How do you feel about me, Brian? I thought, maybe we were moving in a direction toward something serious. I mean,” Adam hurried on, “before he came back. Seriously.”
“I like you,” Brian said, and stopped. He went on, “He’s here. It’s what it is. What might have been means shit.”
“Yeah, but we’re good, I know we are. Please, think about what I’m saying. If he hadn’t shown up, I’m just asking you, were you maybe falling in love with me?”
“Why are you asking me this?”
“Because I came into your loft, which you gave me the key to, to find you in bed with another man! Not just another man, a man you were in love with!”
Brian closed his eyes and shut his lips firmly on the impulse to correct the verb tense in that last bit. “It’s not like that,” he said, not elaborating, knowing he was being deceptive. It was exactly like that.
“Then, what? Is he just like a trick? Brian?”
“No,” Brian answered. He stood abruptly, and moved to the center of the floor of the loft. “You want me to tell you something you want to hear. I won’t do that. I like you. You’re here. That’s all.”
“But where are we going? You can’t tell me you’re happy with this, fucking around, drifting… Brian, I’m not with you just for the sex.”
Brian smirked, moving toward Adam and draping his arm over his shoulder, reaching around his waist with the other hand, grabbing into his groin. “Nothing wrong with that.” This, he knew.
Adam shrugged him off hard, and stood. “I’m serious, damn it! We’re good in bed, okay, but there’s more. You introduced me to your family, your son…”
Brian’s face hardened. “I didn’t introduce you to him. He introduced you to me. We should leave Gus out of this. What we have has nothing to do with him.”
“Leave him out of it? How can I? I like the kid, he’s part of you, he’s part of what I think of when I think of us. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“Adam,” Brian tried. “It means something. I… care about you.” He took a deep breath and held his arms out. “But this is it.”
“What if he came and said, Brian, I want you, dump that guy. What then?”
“He won’t say that.”
“How do you know that?”
Brian laughed humorlessly. “He won’t. He won’t follow through. He never does.”
Adam stared at him. Then he moved over, and draped his arms around Brian’s waist, and dropped his head on Brian’s chest. Brian put his arms around Adam’s back, pulling him close. “Can you promise me? Please. Can you promise me he won’t take you away.”
Brian sighed, resting his chin on Adam’s head. “No.”
“You’re such an asshole. I’m in love with an asshole.” Adam raised his head, and kissed Brian gently. “Tell me what to do.”
Brian impatiently pulled away. “You need to do whatever makes you happy. I can’t… I won’t tell you what that is.”
“Brian, I love you, and he doesn’t. You even said as much! You’re not such a fool as to just ditch a sure thing for a candle in the wind!”
The repetition had begun to grate, and besides, Elton John? That was just plain bad taste. Brian gave into the feelings he’d been keeping tightly under control. “What the fuck, Adam? We’re good, but it was never a big love thing between us. I like you, I like to fuck you. You’re around a lot, so it’s easy. It’s good. Moving toward something else, what else? I wanted what we have, period. All this love shit? Love means shit, trust me, I know.”
Adam stared at him, shocked. “So let me get this straight.”
Brian snorted.
“No jokes, damn it! Are you trying to tell me that you’re not over your ex?”
Brian looked away.
“Answer me!”
Brian felt only impatience. “Fine. Justin can do whatever he wants. I can’t… I won’t stop him. The little fucker.” The last, a caress, which Adam heard all too clearly.
“You don’t want to. He’s going to rip your heart out again, and again. Is that what you want?”
Brian refused to answer.
Adam laughed harshly. “I’d feel sorry for you if you weren’t such an asshole. I can’t believe… couldn’t you have told me this a while ago? All I was, was a defense against someone who keeps crushing you, because you can’t defend yourself? Is this what this is?”
Brian only looked at him. He wished he would leave. This whole conversation made Brian feel like a complete asshole. This should never have happened. Why didn’t Justin stay in New York? Every extreme feeling Brian had ever had in the last few years centered around Justin. “I like you. I wanted to fuck you, and we’ve both enjoyed that. Everything with Justin… It has nothing to do with you.”
Adam’s snort of disbelief echoed through the loft. “You know what? I’m leaving. Good luck to you, you know, you’re going to need it. He’s going to rip out your heart and crush it under his boots as he walks away all over again. Just don’t come looking for me to pick up the pieces!” And Adam stormed out.
Brian locked the door behind him. He headed back to bed, and buried his head in the pillow, a pillow still heavy with Justin’s scent. It calmed his troubled thoughts, even though he knew this had all the effect of a drug masking pain symptoms.
* * * * *
“Hello?”
“Justin? It’s Lindsay. Look, I hate to ask you this on such short notice. But I need to work the gallery tonight, and Brian had an unscheduled meeting. I was going to get this girl we know from the GLC, but she’s not available…”
“You want me to sit with Gus?”
“It’s only until 11 or so.”
* *
Justin showed up at Lindsay’s apartment at six, and walked into the kitchen to see Gus at the table, drawing on a tablet. He looked up with those big eyes, so like his father’s.
“Hi, Gus,” Justin greeted.
“Hi,” Gus answered shyly. “You’re staying with me?”
“Yep, I am.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, Justin, thank you so much for doing this for me! Help yourself to whatever you like. There’s beer, but please don’t drink more than two…”
“Is this the standard Brian speech?”
Lindsay stopped, and she laughed. “Oh, right, sorry.” Her eyes twinkled. “Okay, the standard Justin speech. Help yourself to any food you want, but please leave me some of the ice cream. And Gus may have some of that,” she placed her hand on Gus’s back as he looked quickly up at the mention of ice cream, “but not after 7:30. And, don’t let him drink anything substantial after that time, either.”
“I like water next to my bed.”
Lindsay smiled, sadly Justin thought. “He doesn’t like to wake me up anymore. You know I don’t mind, baby.”
“I know.”
“Okay, I’m off! You have my cell, and the emergency numbers are on the fridge. I should be back around midnight.”
“Bye Lindsay!”
“Bye, Mom.”
She headed out, and Justin sat across from Gus at the table.
“Will you draw me again?” Gus asked, looking up with his grave little eyes.
“Sure! You don’t want to do something, like play a game?”
“After you draw me, we can play Candy Land, okay?”
Justin smiled. “Anything you want, buddy.”
Four hours later, Justin was sitting on the couch, working on a sketch. His final project for the class was going to be an enormous amount of work, and the professor was concerned about his ambition for the piece, in light of the time restriction.
Justin found the challenge exhilarating. Stressed? Sure, but this was nothing compared to the pressure he’d felt in New York.
The blocking was giving him trouble, but he was working it out. Luckily, he didn’t need a model for this particular subject.
Over the Billie Holiday playing on the stereo, he heard the sound of the door opening from down the entrance hall to the right of where Justin sat in the living room. He closed his sketch pad and set it aside, stretching the cramp out of his neck. He was glad Lindsay was back; he was ready to go home.
“Hey, Lindsay,” he called.
But then Brian appeared in the doorway. He leaned on its frame, regarding Justin. Between them, Billie crooned, “…the night is cold, and I’m so alone/I’d give my soul, just to call you my own/hugging and kissing, oh what we’ve been missing/lover man, oh where can you be…”
“Um… hello,” Justin offered, glancing down at his sketch pad to be sure it was closed.
If Brian was disconcerted in seeing Justin, he hid it well behind his slouch. He pushed off the doorway, and sauntered across the room. “Want a beer?” he called back to Justin, as he headed into the kitchen. Justin bit his lips. Fuck. “Sure,” he answered.
Brian returned and handed him the beer, and then dropped himself onto the far end of the couch, facing Justin. “So, I was wondering where you’d disappeared to,” he said.
“I didn’t disappear.” Fuck, that sounded defensive. “I’ve been working.”
“Oh, yes. Finishing your degree. That’s why you haven’t been to the diner. Or to Deb’s. Or out at Liberty’s various drinking establishments.”
“I’ve been to Red Cape.”
Brian grunted. “Mikey’s happy. Makes making Rage easier.” Brian regarded him for a long moment, with a serious look that reminded Justin so much of Gus’s earlier stare that he couldn’t refrain from remarking on it.
“Gus looks at me just like that.”
“Like what.” Brian took a long drink, draining half the bottle.
“That grave stare, as if he’s measuring my character. He looks so much like you, it’s scary.”
Brian smirked. “Scary? Beauty never hurt anybody.”
“Modesty works, too.”
“Not as much as proper appreciation for one’s assets. If you know what you have, you can maximize its potential.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Right.” He drank, not knowing what else to say. “How’s Kinnetik?”
“Amazing. Of course.”
Billie sang into the spaces between them.
“Is it always going to be this awkward?”
“I’m not awkward.”
“Of course not. Uncomfortable then.”
“I’m not uncomfortable, either. Sounds like you have a problem. You should work on that.” Brian stood, and moved to the stereo. He flipped through the CDs. “Jesus, CDs, I’m going to have to do something about this.”
“It’s not broken, but you’re going to fix it.”
“Well, now she’s single, she may want to exchange songs with her new lesbian friends. Or hetero male friends. Who the fuck knows. CDs are so awk… big.”
“Right. Cuz big is bad.”
Billie cut off abruptly, and Brian dropped a new CD into the player. Spyro Gyra picked up the jazz theme, with a faster beat.
“Wow, old school!” Justin exclaimed as Brian rejoined him on the couch.
“The fresh and new’s your department. I’m old and set.”
“Pfft! Young, beautiful you? Is this the Brian Kinney we all know and…” Justin cut himself off.
“New version of the same old me. Young and beautiful never lasts, that’s why it’s such a hot commodity. Trust me, I know. Fresh and hot to old and crotchety in the blink of an eye.”
“I’m sure Adam doesn’t think so.” He realized he sounded petulant, and squashed the desire to take his words back.
Brian turned a hard look on him, and Justin suddenly realized Brian had a new wrinkle at the corner of his left eyelid. “Adam’s out.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh.”
“Is it because…?” Damn it, he shouldn’t ask, and he really shouldn’t feel that hope burn deep inside, in places he refused to countenance.
“Of course it is.”
The music filled the air, and Justin filled his lungs. In. Out. Slow. He tried to calm his heart beat.
“Does that make a difference?” Brian’s words were not as nonchalant as he surely wanted them to be.
“No,” Justin answered, without thinking. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to cause that crushed look that shadowed Brian’s face, hidden immediately, but still haunting it, moving just below the skin. “I do love you,” Justin offered as penance. Brian’s gaze focused sharply on him. “Adam had nothing to do with how I feel about you, anymore than the tricking had to do with how I feel about you.”
“I’m glad you figured that out.”
“But there’s always something. Some hole in you that I can’t… that you won’t let me fill. I can’t deal with that.”
“You mean you won’t. Is it why you keep choosing to leave?”
“I didn’t leave you; I’m always moving toward something. A more complete life, for myself. That you keep pushing me toward; hell, you expect it of me! That doesn’t mean you’re excluded, I thought you wanted to be part of that! This last time, I really had hoped you’d want to come with me.”
“I do,” Brian insisted. “I do want that.”
“Then why do we keep ending up back here?”
“Because it doesn’t matter what I want.”
Justin shook his head, knowing that he couldn’t tell Brian it did indeed matter. His words would only get swallowed up in the black hole Brian’s stark response exposed. The black hole, and the fathomless love behind it.
But it did matter. And Brian’s admissions here meant more to Justin than Brian could ever know. Talk was cheap, but it painted the surface of that which was very dear. Justin smiled gently, reassured suddenly. Brian.
He changed the subject, and was gratified by the easement of the pain that had been drawing across Brian’s features. Justin felt a familiar confidence strengthen in his bones, and realized he hadn’t felt this way in far too long. “Can I sketch you?”
Brian’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know, can you?”
You have no idea, Justin thought, but he only said, “I mean, will you pose for me?” He hastened to explain, “I’ve been, uh, sort of using your figure in a project for my life drawing class. But an actual model helps.”
Brian nodded, assenting, as if this was perfectly natural, much to Justin’s relief. Justin picked up his sketch pad, to move into the chair to the left of the couch, giving himself a better angle to see the other man.
“Take your clothes off, please.”
That elicited the too familiar smirk. “You know,” Brian said pleasantly, as he stood and shucked off his clothes with an efficiency that brought back memories. “You’d think I’d have suggested this first. Taking orders from you is hot.” He sat. “Sometimes. Don’t get ideas.”
“One leg propped up… one arm over your head, rest it there, perfect. The other one on your stomach, relax it… you have the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen, have I told you that?”
“No.” Brian’s chest had flushed slightly. “This is very Titanic. I want my billion dollar diamond now, Leonardo.”
“It was Billie Zane’s.”
“Even better, he’s much hotter.”
“I need your penis soft, Brian.”
Brian choked back a laugh. “That is definitely the first time I have ever heard that ! No,” he refused. His hand descended, stroking himself. “You want a soft penis, you don’t want me.”
Justin ignored him. Brian sighed, and took his hand off his dick, putting it back on his stomach where Justin had originally ordered it. “Fine, but I can’t guarantee it’s going down anytime soon.”
“That’s fine.” He could sketch around it. Could he? Yes, he could.
But it did go down, and Justin smiled. At that, Brian felt something tug at him, not where his prick insisted on satisfaction, but higher, somewhere in his chest.
* * *
When Lindsay returned, she stepped into a darkened living room. A movie played on the television, and on the couch, Justin slept with his face turned into Brian’s shoulder. Brian looked over and rolled his eyes at her smile. He moved his free arm, and switched off the television. Justin started, and opened his eyes. “Mmff?”
“Mom’s home, time to get up,” he gently coaxed, petting Justin’s hair down from where it had kinked out of placed, mashed against him.
“Oh, hi Lindsay. Brian stopped by…”
“I see. Good thing I don’t have a rule about having boyfriends over.”
Justin blushed scarlet. “Oh, no! We just. Um. Brian just stopped by…”
“I was teasing, Justin. How was Gus?”
Surprisingly soon into the reassurances, Lindsay said, “I don’t mean to rush you, but I’m kind of tired. Can we go now, so I can get back here quickly? Not to hurry you out, I just…”
Brian interrupted. “No, the lad’s riding with me tonight. I’m taking him.”
Justin opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, not sure if Brian intended the double entendre.
* * * *
“So, this is where you live,” Brian said, peering up at the building.
“Yep,” Justin said.
“It’s a shithole.”
“But this time, my shithole’s on the fourth floor, not the 19th. AND, I have a bathroom of my own.”
“In the apartment.”
“Amazing, huh? I’ve come so far.”
“Are you going to invite me up?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Brian shrugged, but Justin could tell he was hurt. Placing his hand on Brian’s forearm, he offered, “We can’t go back. And I don’t… I felt pretty shitty being the other man.”
“You weren’t,” Brian insisted. “You aren’t.”
Justin shook his head. “But it feels that way.”
“Justin,” Brian said, lacing his fingers into the younger man’s when he would pull away. “I never pursued him. It wasn’t like that.”
Justin smiled sadly. “You never pursued me, either.” He pulled his hand away. “Thanks for the ride.” He opened the door, and disappeared into the front door of the squat brick building.
Brian sat for a long moment. “That’s not true,” he whispered. But Justin wasn’t there to respond.
* * * *
“Should J.T. be more skinny?” Justin handed the sketch over to Michael, who sat next to him at the table. Michael’s critical eye wandered over it. “You might want to put the shadow of a rib on him. Good suggestion, Ma.”
“Well, Just look at Sunshine, he’s skin and bones!” Deb exclaimed, bustling into the dining area and placing a basket of bread next to the chips and salsa she had placed in front of Justin earlier. “Honey, you need to eat.”
“How long has J.T. been trapped in The Tarantula’s web? Because he wouldn’t be skinny enough for ribs to show after just a week or so.”
Michael turned to the next set of panels. “We don’t need to say. It’s the beauty of comics; time can be as vague as you want. But it’s long enough, his ribs should show. And Ma’s right, you’ve lost weight.”
“My ribs aren’t showing.”
“Yes, they are,” Brian called without looking up from where he sat with Gus on the couch. Gus had started taking pictures of all of his friends, “portraits,” he called them. He liked the word, because it was new to him. Brian and Gus sat on the couch across the room, Gus tucked into Brian’s side. Brian was carefully examining Gus’s portraits.
Michael shot a pointed look at Ben, who shook his head and smiled, but continued to look at the drawings, ignoring Justin’s blush.
“Oh, hey, this is great!” Michael pointed to the carefully worked close-ups of J.T. unhooking and rehooking the connections in the web, creating a new corridor for his escape. As J.T. worked, the panels lost their side borders, connecting with a long, web-like design that pulled the reader through the page, moving the reader with J.T. through his tunnel as he crawled, first away from the top left hand of the design, down right to the middle, straight right, and then up, and a long slide to bottom page left before the panel doubled back, and continued to weave seemingly haphazardly around the entire page. The design was a complicated chutes-and-ladders, J.T.’s maze-like escape weaving through previous parts of the web-like design, creating a big knot of a picture, finally depositing him in a cave-like enclosure at bottom right.
“You like that?” Justin asked. “I thought it might be visually confusing.”
“Maybe you can have the web squeeze in at certain points and the ones behind can expand, so a reader can see more of the later progression?”
“That might work…” Justin started, suddenly aware that Lindsay was depositing salad on the table.
“It’s brilliant,” Brian said, setting down a bottle of wine.
“What do you think, Gus?” Justin asked, lifting the sheet to show Gus. Showing Gus a picture of J.T. crawling around did not need to be cleared with Lindsay, but she ran a quick eye over it anyway, Justin saw. Gus paused in climbing into the chair across the table, and looked, studying the picture for a long time.
“Cool,” he said. “Like Escher.”
Justin’s eyebrows shot up. “Escher?” he asked.
“He likes Escher,” Lindsay laughed.
“Mom’s got a book.”
“The lad’s a genius,” Brian supplied. He smiled down at the boy, and took his seat next to him at the table.
“Better get your work out of the way before it gets marinara sauce on it.” Carl entered the room with a large bowl of pasta and sauce.
“Wait!” Gus interrupted. “Adam’s not here.”
The entire room fell silent, and then everyone looked at Brian. Gus looked up at his father. Brian answered, “He can’t make it today, Gus.”
“Oh.” Gus seemed disappointed, but then he busied himself with selecting a bread stick from the basket in front of him. Justin turned away as he put the mock-ups aside, in the living room. He did not want to see anyone looking at him.
* * *
“You’re going to have to tell him,” Lindsay said to Brian later, as they stood outside in Deb’s back yard, Brian smoking a rare cigarette. Gus wanted him to quit.
“What’s to tell?”
“Brian. It’s bad enough one parent went through a breakup, but Gus is going to notice that you don’t want to be around Adam anymore. Especially if you’re kissing up to someone else. He has enough problems with people he loves disappearing around him.”
“It’s not my fault your breakup scarred him!” Brian shot back.
Lindsay stood quietly for a moment, watching him. “I know I fucked up with Mel, Brian. And believe me, I’m devastated by what our breakup did to Gus. But he seems to be getting better. Especially if Mel gets her ass back here with his sister.” Lindsay prayed that day would be soon. The courts seemed to be leaning toward Michael’s case. It helped that Mel had not been able to secure legal work up in Canada. It had been one of the reasons for their falling out. Mel probably would have had to return to the States anyway, even without the pressure Michael was putting on her. “I just… it’s the reality of the situation, right now, whether we like it or not. He’s fragile. And if you think it best I explain that his friend isn’t coming around because daddy’s still in love with someone else…”
Brian stared at her hard, and took a deep drag of the cigarette. He exhaled, the smoke shooting out into the night. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll figure something out.”
* * * *
The banging on his door startled him awake. Justin leaped up, his heart beating fast as a baby bird’s. He crossed the room to the door, and called, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, open the fucking door.”
Brian? What the fuck? Justin opened the fucking door. “Brian, what…”
He was pushed back into the room, and the door slammed behind Brian, the lock engaged simultaneously. And then Brian grabbed his wrist and pulled Justin hard up against his body, his mouth descending on Justin’s, hard, lips taking lips, opening Justin’s mouth and sucking his tongue into Brian’s wet depths.
They were on his futon, Brian pushing him down onto the thin mattress. The briefs Justin wore melted off him. Brian turned him on his hands and knees and then pulled him up, Justin’s naked back flush against Brian’s chest, Brian’s mouth descending to his neck and his left hand cupped Justin’s achingly hard sex. Justin reached his arms up and behind him, grabbing Brian by the hair and pulling his mouth down to his, his neck straining around, the muscles screaming in protest but he didn’t care. The feeling of Brian’s soft lips desperately covering his own was too exquisite. Justin heard the sound of Brian’s zipper, his harsh breathing, then a condom wrapper ripped through the stillness of the apartment. He was pushed onto his hands and knees, Brian’s fully clothed body covering his, his knees nudging Justin’s legs apart. And then Brian was inside of him, filling Justin’s body. Justin arched his back, trying to accommodate, still not used to penetration. Brian’s hand stroked him, and his cock hit his prostate. Justin cried out as he came hard, Brian’s name on his lips.
* * *
“I’m getting you a new bed,” Brian said. He pulled his shirt off, folded it, and tossed it to join his carefully folded pants at the end of the mattress. Then he lay on his back, and folded his hands over his chest.
Justin propped himself up on one elbow, so he could look down on the other man. “No, you aren’t. Unless you’re planning to live here.”
Brian just snorted in response, but Justin could see the gleam of his open eyes through the gloom.
“What the fuck, Brian? What was that?”
“What, that I want to fuck you in a comfortable bed?”
“You don’t need a bed for that.”
“No, I don’t.”
Justin shivered, thinking of all the possibilities that statement opened up. He reached out, and traced Brian’s nipple with his forefinger, gratified when Brian shuddered. “That was hot.”
“Of course it was.”
Justin sighed, deciding not to question this right now. They’d wanted to fuck, and they had, end of story. Certainly, he had wanted Brian again, ever since the night in Brian’s loft, hell, even before that. He’d never actually stopped wanting Brian, from the moment he’d seen him, all those years ago. And the fire burned just as hot between them, hotter actually, condensed to a white light he carried near his heart. Or in his groin, Justin thought, grinning suddenly. He always wanted Brian. And right now, he would just as soon enjoy the next fuck they were about to share, rather than talk about it. Justin’s tongue followed his finger onto Brian’s body, and Brian groaned, his hand moving to Justin’s head, weaving his fingers into Justin’s hair and tugging on it, pushing Justin’s head to descend toward his cock. Justin went with the pressure; he was on his way anyway. Why fight a good thing?
When he woke in the morning, Brian was gone.
_____
*From Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken"
Part 4
Written for the "Worlds Apart" challenge at neverenough_bj.
Thank you, jans_intentions, for the beta.
Warning: Brian/other, angst.
Homecoming, Part 3
Brian watched the door shut behind Justin. He knew he had to let him leave, even though he wished he could rewind the day, and hit a pause in the middle of those twenty minutes when he had awoken and felt Justin’s body next to his, and pushing into him, needing to be inside his beautiful boy. Bodies seeking and finding what had been missing for so long, fucking him awake, the clock ticking.
You’re here, he’d said, and he wanted so much for Justin to understand him, and he must have because he stayed, he opened up to him, and they’d loved hard all night.
“Brian?” Adam asked now, the strain of tears in his closing windpipe. “Please, say something.”
“What do you want me to say?” Brian asked.
“I love you!” Adam said, and looked stricken. It was the first time he’d said it, but he seemed to come to some decision even as the words hung on the air. “I do, and I thought we were moving toward something.”
“What was wrong with what we have?”
“Why are you risking us?”
“I’m not going to do the drama thing,” Brian said, losing patience. “I’m taking a shower. You can leave or not.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Fine,” Brian snapped, and moved toward the shower.
He had met Adam at Lindsay’s gallery. Adam’s was the first show she had organized since moving back after the disastrous excursion to the wilds of Canada. Apparently, the breakup had been traumatic, worse with the children involved old enough to know what was going on. Gus was still crying for his sister. He told Brian he felt that he was a bad brother because she was taken away from him. Brian was furious, and had thrown as much money as Michael needed to regain custody of his daughter, or at least get J.R. and Mel’s ass back in the state. All the toys in the world, all the trips to the zoo and whatever hellacious kid places he could dig up in Pittsburgh and the surrounding area had not helped very much in restabilizing Gus’s emotional world, which had paid a heavy price for the end of Lindsay and Melanie’s relationship.
He had met Adam at the first night of his show, and the man had interested him immediately. Of course he wanted to fuck him. He did fuck him, in Lindsay’s office, as reviewers and patrons alike no doubt wondered where the artist had gone, and Lindsay covered the absence, as usual. Adam was well traveled, settling in Pittsburgh for a stint of teaching at Carnegie Mellon and his show at the Bloomberg, with possible plans to remain if things worked out, not only at the university, but between him and Brian as well. He had not said as much, but Brian knew. At first, Adam had been a fuck, like all the others since Justin left. A more interesting one, but he was a trick in a host of them, filling up the hole left in the absence of the only one who mattered. The filler of random tricks wasn’t working; they had become boring and annoying, more effort than the pursuit was worth. At night, after Brian had showered the smell off, he would lay in his empty bed. The old relief and contentment with his beautiful loft, his ongoing successes as an ad man, his knowledge that he still had appeal to random men, none of that lulled him to sleep anymore. Instead, he lay awake and conscious of what wasn’t there.
Adam had truly become a fixture in his world, not when Deb got her claws into him, or through Adam’s collaboration with Ben over a course involving gay imagery in photography, so much as when Adam took an interest in Gus after Lindsay had gotten him to look after the boy one evening. Apparently, she and Adam had bonded over his work, and spent time together outside the gallery. Gus got his first camera from the photographer, and for the first time in a month, Gus showed a real enthusiasm for something beyond the mindlessness of video games. He had taken to obsessive absorptions, throwing a ball against a wall for hours on end, playing video games without expression, and staring blankly at the television. Once, Brian had walked into the Lindsay’s living room, and Gus was staring at the television screen. The television had been off. That had scared the holy hell out of Brian.
But it wasn’t just Gus. When Adam was around, that deep-seated ache that Brian carried around, an ache that bloomed into a fresh harvest of pain when Justin broke off communicating even sooner than Brian had expected, all that abated. Adam brought new life not just to the son, but to the father as well, and before Brian knew it, he wasn’t really tricking much, or even at all, just fucking Adam whenever he was around. And he was around a lot. It had seemed that Adam was the flavor of the month; suddenly around everywhere, and then in Brian’s life. It was just so easy.
As Gus developed an interest in photography, Adam helped him with camera settings, helped him to take pretty damn good pictures for a child his age. And Gus would squeal, and turn to Brian, calling, “Look, Daddy, look at this!” and show him the picture. Upon arriving home, Brian would sit Gus on his lap in front of the computer, and they would go through the pictures Gus took on his “hunting trip” as he called them, “shooting” things out in the wild. Gus and Brian took these photography field trips alone, just the two of them, but Gus liked Adam to go along when he was around. So did Brian. When Adam was with him, he didn’t think of what wasn’t there.
Adam even helped in some of Kinnetik’s campaigns, offering his expertise on the photography of the Sheer Gloss Lipsticks campaign, showing his diversity in judgment of commercial art and fashion models. He was talented, and interesting. The family liked him, and as soon as Debbie had her talons in him, he was a regular at dinners at her house. Brian didn’t correct them when they called Adam his “boyfriend,” even though he wasn’t. Adam was the guy he fucked, a guy he could talk to, who knew to cover his teeth for oral sex and could touch the spots that turned Brian on without Brian having to direct him. Brian’s boyfriend had broken up with him, but Adam drew the pain away, a pain Brian didn’t want to admit he had, but a pain he couldn’t really deny deep in the morning at three a.m. When Adam was there, he had distraction, and sometimes three a.m. passed without Brian noticing.
He knew he was a bastard to Justin, that Justin had expected him to come to New York, or at least talk to him. Justin didn’t have the resources to make sure they would see each other as much as he had said he wanted. But long distance relationships didn’t work. Brian was tactile; he needed to feel Justin under him, on his tongue, in his mouth, between his legs. And those emails, in which Justin raved about New York, they only sharpened the edge. Brian knew, he knew New York was fantastic, of course he knew, it was everything he’d ever wanted, and everything he’d never have.
Just like Justin.
He couldn’t tell Justin, don’t call me, don’t email me, you’re hurting me too much. Because he fed on those emails, on the echo of a desire he couldn’t seem to let go. But it was only time, only time before Justin committed himself fully to that life away from Brian. All the emails revealed that fact; Justin was pursuing that new life, and there was no real space for Brian there. Brian had a fully realized life of his own in Pittsburgh; he was set. There was only room for quick visits, stolen time. He loved Justin, he still did, and always would. But Justin’s art demanded a life that excluded Brian. He was too young to limit his choices now, no matter what he said. Justin’s leaving, all those emails, underscored that he was moving on. …knowing how way leads onto way/I doubted if I should ever come back…* Justin was gone, his communications a voice echoing back to Brian from a future that was all too clear.
But suddenly he was back. Brian had not expected that, not at all. He had expected Justin to keep moving forward. And frankly, he was fairly pissed about his reappearance. Pissed, and deeply conflicted. God, he wanted him, he wanted him! Wanted something he could never have. The pain of the months after Justin had left was so deep, and he had no wish to reexperience that deep loss. But when Justin had come to his loft the night before, confused and oh so touchable, he proved too much of a temptation.
Brian was grateful Adam was there for Justin’s reappearance, and he knew he would rot in hell for feeling that way, grateful for Adam not because he cared for him and the man was a support, no, Brian could bear the pain on his own if he must, difficult as it was, thank you very much. Adam was a shield. The feeling of abandonment was still too fresh. And now Justin was back. By his own admission, he was back for school, because in New York, people were a dime a dozen, and those without degrees were a penny a dozen. Justin realized he wasn’t positioned properly, and he’d come back to finish degree, and then take it with him when he left again. New York had chewed Justin up and spit him out, but it had done that to a lot of people. Justin was the most resilient fucker he knew. He was also ruthless. He went after what he wanted, even though he never considered the consequences of those goals to other people. Selfish little fucker. Brian was damn proud of him. That ruthlessness would take Justin far, as it should. Justin was the hottest little shit on the planet, and he’d become a big hot shit, soon enough. As it should be. The kid was not done with New York, not by a long shot. And he’d leave again. It’s what he did. Justin would be off to New York again with his degree, to the next shiny new horizon, leaving Brian to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart. It was a fucking cliché.
As he toweled off, he realized he probably should have been more honest with Adam. But he hadn’t expected Justin to return, not for more than short visits, anyway. And the truth was, he hadn’t promised Adam anything. Well. Maybe it was time to change the status quo. Maybe the status quo had changed the minute Justin stepped back into the city limits. Maybe the status quo had changed permanently the minute Justin stepped foot on Liberty Avenue.
Brian stepped out into the bedroom, where he pulled a pair of jeans and a black tank out of the drawer. He stepped down the stairs, and toward the kitchen. Adam had made a pot of coffee, and sat on one of the stools, waiting. Brian sat on the stool next to him, and picked up the mug of coffee with sugar that Adam had placed there for him. He took a deep sip and rubbed his jaw.
“How do you feel about me, Brian? I thought, maybe we were moving in a direction toward something serious. I mean,” Adam hurried on, “before he came back. Seriously.”
“I like you,” Brian said, and stopped. He went on, “He’s here. It’s what it is. What might have been means shit.”
“Yeah, but we’re good, I know we are. Please, think about what I’m saying. If he hadn’t shown up, I’m just asking you, were you maybe falling in love with me?”
“Why are you asking me this?”
“Because I came into your loft, which you gave me the key to, to find you in bed with another man! Not just another man, a man you were in love with!”
Brian closed his eyes and shut his lips firmly on the impulse to correct the verb tense in that last bit. “It’s not like that,” he said, not elaborating, knowing he was being deceptive. It was exactly like that.
“Then, what? Is he just like a trick? Brian?”
“No,” Brian answered. He stood abruptly, and moved to the center of the floor of the loft. “You want me to tell you something you want to hear. I won’t do that. I like you. You’re here. That’s all.”
“But where are we going? You can’t tell me you’re happy with this, fucking around, drifting… Brian, I’m not with you just for the sex.”
Brian smirked, moving toward Adam and draping his arm over his shoulder, reaching around his waist with the other hand, grabbing into his groin. “Nothing wrong with that.” This, he knew.
Adam shrugged him off hard, and stood. “I’m serious, damn it! We’re good in bed, okay, but there’s more. You introduced me to your family, your son…”
Brian’s face hardened. “I didn’t introduce you to him. He introduced you to me. We should leave Gus out of this. What we have has nothing to do with him.”
“Leave him out of it? How can I? I like the kid, he’s part of you, he’s part of what I think of when I think of us. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“Adam,” Brian tried. “It means something. I… care about you.” He took a deep breath and held his arms out. “But this is it.”
“What if he came and said, Brian, I want you, dump that guy. What then?”
“He won’t say that.”
“How do you know that?”
Brian laughed humorlessly. “He won’t. He won’t follow through. He never does.”
Adam stared at him. Then he moved over, and draped his arms around Brian’s waist, and dropped his head on Brian’s chest. Brian put his arms around Adam’s back, pulling him close. “Can you promise me? Please. Can you promise me he won’t take you away.”
Brian sighed, resting his chin on Adam’s head. “No.”
“You’re such an asshole. I’m in love with an asshole.” Adam raised his head, and kissed Brian gently. “Tell me what to do.”
Brian impatiently pulled away. “You need to do whatever makes you happy. I can’t… I won’t tell you what that is.”
“Brian, I love you, and he doesn’t. You even said as much! You’re not such a fool as to just ditch a sure thing for a candle in the wind!”
The repetition had begun to grate, and besides, Elton John? That was just plain bad taste. Brian gave into the feelings he’d been keeping tightly under control. “What the fuck, Adam? We’re good, but it was never a big love thing between us. I like you, I like to fuck you. You’re around a lot, so it’s easy. It’s good. Moving toward something else, what else? I wanted what we have, period. All this love shit? Love means shit, trust me, I know.”
Adam stared at him, shocked. “So let me get this straight.”
Brian snorted.
“No jokes, damn it! Are you trying to tell me that you’re not over your ex?”
Brian looked away.
“Answer me!”
Brian felt only impatience. “Fine. Justin can do whatever he wants. I can’t… I won’t stop him. The little fucker.” The last, a caress, which Adam heard all too clearly.
“You don’t want to. He’s going to rip your heart out again, and again. Is that what you want?”
Brian refused to answer.
Adam laughed harshly. “I’d feel sorry for you if you weren’t such an asshole. I can’t believe… couldn’t you have told me this a while ago? All I was, was a defense against someone who keeps crushing you, because you can’t defend yourself? Is this what this is?”
Brian only looked at him. He wished he would leave. This whole conversation made Brian feel like a complete asshole. This should never have happened. Why didn’t Justin stay in New York? Every extreme feeling Brian had ever had in the last few years centered around Justin. “I like you. I wanted to fuck you, and we’ve both enjoyed that. Everything with Justin… It has nothing to do with you.”
Adam’s snort of disbelief echoed through the loft. “You know what? I’m leaving. Good luck to you, you know, you’re going to need it. He’s going to rip out your heart and crush it under his boots as he walks away all over again. Just don’t come looking for me to pick up the pieces!” And Adam stormed out.
Brian locked the door behind him. He headed back to bed, and buried his head in the pillow, a pillow still heavy with Justin’s scent. It calmed his troubled thoughts, even though he knew this had all the effect of a drug masking pain symptoms.
* * * * *
“Hello?”
“Justin? It’s Lindsay. Look, I hate to ask you this on such short notice. But I need to work the gallery tonight, and Brian had an unscheduled meeting. I was going to get this girl we know from the GLC, but she’s not available…”
“You want me to sit with Gus?”
“It’s only until 11 or so.”
* *
Justin showed up at Lindsay’s apartment at six, and walked into the kitchen to see Gus at the table, drawing on a tablet. He looked up with those big eyes, so like his father’s.
“Hi, Gus,” Justin greeted.
“Hi,” Gus answered shyly. “You’re staying with me?”
“Yep, I am.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, Justin, thank you so much for doing this for me! Help yourself to whatever you like. There’s beer, but please don’t drink more than two…”
“Is this the standard Brian speech?”
Lindsay stopped, and she laughed. “Oh, right, sorry.” Her eyes twinkled. “Okay, the standard Justin speech. Help yourself to any food you want, but please leave me some of the ice cream. And Gus may have some of that,” she placed her hand on Gus’s back as he looked quickly up at the mention of ice cream, “but not after 7:30. And, don’t let him drink anything substantial after that time, either.”
“I like water next to my bed.”
Lindsay smiled, sadly Justin thought. “He doesn’t like to wake me up anymore. You know I don’t mind, baby.”
“I know.”
“Okay, I’m off! You have my cell, and the emergency numbers are on the fridge. I should be back around midnight.”
“Bye Lindsay!”
“Bye, Mom.”
She headed out, and Justin sat across from Gus at the table.
“Will you draw me again?” Gus asked, looking up with his grave little eyes.
“Sure! You don’t want to do something, like play a game?”
“After you draw me, we can play Candy Land, okay?”
Justin smiled. “Anything you want, buddy.”
Four hours later, Justin was sitting on the couch, working on a sketch. His final project for the class was going to be an enormous amount of work, and the professor was concerned about his ambition for the piece, in light of the time restriction.
Justin found the challenge exhilarating. Stressed? Sure, but this was nothing compared to the pressure he’d felt in New York.
The blocking was giving him trouble, but he was working it out. Luckily, he didn’t need a model for this particular subject.
Over the Billie Holiday playing on the stereo, he heard the sound of the door opening from down the entrance hall to the right of where Justin sat in the living room. He closed his sketch pad and set it aside, stretching the cramp out of his neck. He was glad Lindsay was back; he was ready to go home.
“Hey, Lindsay,” he called.
But then Brian appeared in the doorway. He leaned on its frame, regarding Justin. Between them, Billie crooned, “…the night is cold, and I’m so alone/I’d give my soul, just to call you my own/hugging and kissing, oh what we’ve been missing/lover man, oh where can you be…”
“Um… hello,” Justin offered, glancing down at his sketch pad to be sure it was closed.
If Brian was disconcerted in seeing Justin, he hid it well behind his slouch. He pushed off the doorway, and sauntered across the room. “Want a beer?” he called back to Justin, as he headed into the kitchen. Justin bit his lips. Fuck. “Sure,” he answered.
Brian returned and handed him the beer, and then dropped himself onto the far end of the couch, facing Justin. “So, I was wondering where you’d disappeared to,” he said.
“I didn’t disappear.” Fuck, that sounded defensive. “I’ve been working.”
“Oh, yes. Finishing your degree. That’s why you haven’t been to the diner. Or to Deb’s. Or out at Liberty’s various drinking establishments.”
“I’ve been to Red Cape.”
Brian grunted. “Mikey’s happy. Makes making Rage easier.” Brian regarded him for a long moment, with a serious look that reminded Justin so much of Gus’s earlier stare that he couldn’t refrain from remarking on it.
“Gus looks at me just like that.”
“Like what.” Brian took a long drink, draining half the bottle.
“That grave stare, as if he’s measuring my character. He looks so much like you, it’s scary.”
Brian smirked. “Scary? Beauty never hurt anybody.”
“Modesty works, too.”
“Not as much as proper appreciation for one’s assets. If you know what you have, you can maximize its potential.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Right.” He drank, not knowing what else to say. “How’s Kinnetik?”
“Amazing. Of course.”
Billie sang into the spaces between them.
“Is it always going to be this awkward?”
“I’m not awkward.”
“Of course not. Uncomfortable then.”
“I’m not uncomfortable, either. Sounds like you have a problem. You should work on that.” Brian stood, and moved to the stereo. He flipped through the CDs. “Jesus, CDs, I’m going to have to do something about this.”
“It’s not broken, but you’re going to fix it.”
“Well, now she’s single, she may want to exchange songs with her new lesbian friends. Or hetero male friends. Who the fuck knows. CDs are so awk… big.”
“Right. Cuz big is bad.”
Billie cut off abruptly, and Brian dropped a new CD into the player. Spyro Gyra picked up the jazz theme, with a faster beat.
“Wow, old school!” Justin exclaimed as Brian rejoined him on the couch.
“The fresh and new’s your department. I’m old and set.”
“Pfft! Young, beautiful you? Is this the Brian Kinney we all know and…” Justin cut himself off.
“New version of the same old me. Young and beautiful never lasts, that’s why it’s such a hot commodity. Trust me, I know. Fresh and hot to old and crotchety in the blink of an eye.”
“I’m sure Adam doesn’t think so.” He realized he sounded petulant, and squashed the desire to take his words back.
Brian turned a hard look on him, and Justin suddenly realized Brian had a new wrinkle at the corner of his left eyelid. “Adam’s out.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh.”
“Is it because…?” Damn it, he shouldn’t ask, and he really shouldn’t feel that hope burn deep inside, in places he refused to countenance.
“Of course it is.”
The music filled the air, and Justin filled his lungs. In. Out. Slow. He tried to calm his heart beat.
“Does that make a difference?” Brian’s words were not as nonchalant as he surely wanted them to be.
“No,” Justin answered, without thinking. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to cause that crushed look that shadowed Brian’s face, hidden immediately, but still haunting it, moving just below the skin. “I do love you,” Justin offered as penance. Brian’s gaze focused sharply on him. “Adam had nothing to do with how I feel about you, anymore than the tricking had to do with how I feel about you.”
“I’m glad you figured that out.”
“But there’s always something. Some hole in you that I can’t… that you won’t let me fill. I can’t deal with that.”
“You mean you won’t. Is it why you keep choosing to leave?”
“I didn’t leave you; I’m always moving toward something. A more complete life, for myself. That you keep pushing me toward; hell, you expect it of me! That doesn’t mean you’re excluded, I thought you wanted to be part of that! This last time, I really had hoped you’d want to come with me.”
“I do,” Brian insisted. “I do want that.”
“Then why do we keep ending up back here?”
“Because it doesn’t matter what I want.”
Justin shook his head, knowing that he couldn’t tell Brian it did indeed matter. His words would only get swallowed up in the black hole Brian’s stark response exposed. The black hole, and the fathomless love behind it.
But it did matter. And Brian’s admissions here meant more to Justin than Brian could ever know. Talk was cheap, but it painted the surface of that which was very dear. Justin smiled gently, reassured suddenly. Brian.
He changed the subject, and was gratified by the easement of the pain that had been drawing across Brian’s features. Justin felt a familiar confidence strengthen in his bones, and realized he hadn’t felt this way in far too long. “Can I sketch you?”
Brian’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know, can you?”
You have no idea, Justin thought, but he only said, “I mean, will you pose for me?” He hastened to explain, “I’ve been, uh, sort of using your figure in a project for my life drawing class. But an actual model helps.”
Brian nodded, assenting, as if this was perfectly natural, much to Justin’s relief. Justin picked up his sketch pad, to move into the chair to the left of the couch, giving himself a better angle to see the other man.
“Take your clothes off, please.”
That elicited the too familiar smirk. “You know,” Brian said pleasantly, as he stood and shucked off his clothes with an efficiency that brought back memories. “You’d think I’d have suggested this first. Taking orders from you is hot.” He sat. “Sometimes. Don’t get ideas.”
“One leg propped up… one arm over your head, rest it there, perfect. The other one on your stomach, relax it… you have the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen, have I told you that?”
“No.” Brian’s chest had flushed slightly. “This is very Titanic. I want my billion dollar diamond now, Leonardo.”
“It was Billie Zane’s.”
“Even better, he’s much hotter.”
“I need your penis soft, Brian.”
Brian choked back a laugh. “That is definitely the first time I have ever heard that ! No,” he refused. His hand descended, stroking himself. “You want a soft penis, you don’t want me.”
Justin ignored him. Brian sighed, and took his hand off his dick, putting it back on his stomach where Justin had originally ordered it. “Fine, but I can’t guarantee it’s going down anytime soon.”
“That’s fine.” He could sketch around it. Could he? Yes, he could.
But it did go down, and Justin smiled. At that, Brian felt something tug at him, not where his prick insisted on satisfaction, but higher, somewhere in his chest.
* * *
When Lindsay returned, she stepped into a darkened living room. A movie played on the television, and on the couch, Justin slept with his face turned into Brian’s shoulder. Brian looked over and rolled his eyes at her smile. He moved his free arm, and switched off the television. Justin started, and opened his eyes. “Mmff?”
“Mom’s home, time to get up,” he gently coaxed, petting Justin’s hair down from where it had kinked out of placed, mashed against him.
“Oh, hi Lindsay. Brian stopped by…”
“I see. Good thing I don’t have a rule about having boyfriends over.”
Justin blushed scarlet. “Oh, no! We just. Um. Brian just stopped by…”
“I was teasing, Justin. How was Gus?”
Surprisingly soon into the reassurances, Lindsay said, “I don’t mean to rush you, but I’m kind of tired. Can we go now, so I can get back here quickly? Not to hurry you out, I just…”
Brian interrupted. “No, the lad’s riding with me tonight. I’m taking him.”
Justin opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, not sure if Brian intended the double entendre.
* * * *
“So, this is where you live,” Brian said, peering up at the building.
“Yep,” Justin said.
“It’s a shithole.”
“But this time, my shithole’s on the fourth floor, not the 19th. AND, I have a bathroom of my own.”
“In the apartment.”
“Amazing, huh? I’ve come so far.”
“Are you going to invite me up?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Brian shrugged, but Justin could tell he was hurt. Placing his hand on Brian’s forearm, he offered, “We can’t go back. And I don’t… I felt pretty shitty being the other man.”
“You weren’t,” Brian insisted. “You aren’t.”
Justin shook his head. “But it feels that way.”
“Justin,” Brian said, lacing his fingers into the younger man’s when he would pull away. “I never pursued him. It wasn’t like that.”
Justin smiled sadly. “You never pursued me, either.” He pulled his hand away. “Thanks for the ride.” He opened the door, and disappeared into the front door of the squat brick building.
Brian sat for a long moment. “That’s not true,” he whispered. But Justin wasn’t there to respond.
* * * *
“Should J.T. be more skinny?” Justin handed the sketch over to Michael, who sat next to him at the table. Michael’s critical eye wandered over it. “You might want to put the shadow of a rib on him. Good suggestion, Ma.”
“Well, Just look at Sunshine, he’s skin and bones!” Deb exclaimed, bustling into the dining area and placing a basket of bread next to the chips and salsa she had placed in front of Justin earlier. “Honey, you need to eat.”
“How long has J.T. been trapped in The Tarantula’s web? Because he wouldn’t be skinny enough for ribs to show after just a week or so.”
Michael turned to the next set of panels. “We don’t need to say. It’s the beauty of comics; time can be as vague as you want. But it’s long enough, his ribs should show. And Ma’s right, you’ve lost weight.”
“My ribs aren’t showing.”
“Yes, they are,” Brian called without looking up from where he sat with Gus on the couch. Gus had started taking pictures of all of his friends, “portraits,” he called them. He liked the word, because it was new to him. Brian and Gus sat on the couch across the room, Gus tucked into Brian’s side. Brian was carefully examining Gus’s portraits.
Michael shot a pointed look at Ben, who shook his head and smiled, but continued to look at the drawings, ignoring Justin’s blush.
“Oh, hey, this is great!” Michael pointed to the carefully worked close-ups of J.T. unhooking and rehooking the connections in the web, creating a new corridor for his escape. As J.T. worked, the panels lost their side borders, connecting with a long, web-like design that pulled the reader through the page, moving the reader with J.T. through his tunnel as he crawled, first away from the top left hand of the design, down right to the middle, straight right, and then up, and a long slide to bottom page left before the panel doubled back, and continued to weave seemingly haphazardly around the entire page. The design was a complicated chutes-and-ladders, J.T.’s maze-like escape weaving through previous parts of the web-like design, creating a big knot of a picture, finally depositing him in a cave-like enclosure at bottom right.
“You like that?” Justin asked. “I thought it might be visually confusing.”
“Maybe you can have the web squeeze in at certain points and the ones behind can expand, so a reader can see more of the later progression?”
“That might work…” Justin started, suddenly aware that Lindsay was depositing salad on the table.
“It’s brilliant,” Brian said, setting down a bottle of wine.
“What do you think, Gus?” Justin asked, lifting the sheet to show Gus. Showing Gus a picture of J.T. crawling around did not need to be cleared with Lindsay, but she ran a quick eye over it anyway, Justin saw. Gus paused in climbing into the chair across the table, and looked, studying the picture for a long time.
“Cool,” he said. “Like Escher.”
Justin’s eyebrows shot up. “Escher?” he asked.
“He likes Escher,” Lindsay laughed.
“Mom’s got a book.”
“The lad’s a genius,” Brian supplied. He smiled down at the boy, and took his seat next to him at the table.
“Better get your work out of the way before it gets marinara sauce on it.” Carl entered the room with a large bowl of pasta and sauce.
“Wait!” Gus interrupted. “Adam’s not here.”
The entire room fell silent, and then everyone looked at Brian. Gus looked up at his father. Brian answered, “He can’t make it today, Gus.”
“Oh.” Gus seemed disappointed, but then he busied himself with selecting a bread stick from the basket in front of him. Justin turned away as he put the mock-ups aside, in the living room. He did not want to see anyone looking at him.
* * *
“You’re going to have to tell him,” Lindsay said to Brian later, as they stood outside in Deb’s back yard, Brian smoking a rare cigarette. Gus wanted him to quit.
“What’s to tell?”
“Brian. It’s bad enough one parent went through a breakup, but Gus is going to notice that you don’t want to be around Adam anymore. Especially if you’re kissing up to someone else. He has enough problems with people he loves disappearing around him.”
“It’s not my fault your breakup scarred him!” Brian shot back.
Lindsay stood quietly for a moment, watching him. “I know I fucked up with Mel, Brian. And believe me, I’m devastated by what our breakup did to Gus. But he seems to be getting better. Especially if Mel gets her ass back here with his sister.” Lindsay prayed that day would be soon. The courts seemed to be leaning toward Michael’s case. It helped that Mel had not been able to secure legal work up in Canada. It had been one of the reasons for their falling out. Mel probably would have had to return to the States anyway, even without the pressure Michael was putting on her. “I just… it’s the reality of the situation, right now, whether we like it or not. He’s fragile. And if you think it best I explain that his friend isn’t coming around because daddy’s still in love with someone else…”
Brian stared at her hard, and took a deep drag of the cigarette. He exhaled, the smoke shooting out into the night. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll figure something out.”
* * * *
The banging on his door startled him awake. Justin leaped up, his heart beating fast as a baby bird’s. He crossed the room to the door, and called, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, open the fucking door.”
Brian? What the fuck? Justin opened the fucking door. “Brian, what…”
He was pushed back into the room, and the door slammed behind Brian, the lock engaged simultaneously. And then Brian grabbed his wrist and pulled Justin hard up against his body, his mouth descending on Justin’s, hard, lips taking lips, opening Justin’s mouth and sucking his tongue into Brian’s wet depths.
They were on his futon, Brian pushing him down onto the thin mattress. The briefs Justin wore melted off him. Brian turned him on his hands and knees and then pulled him up, Justin’s naked back flush against Brian’s chest, Brian’s mouth descending to his neck and his left hand cupped Justin’s achingly hard sex. Justin reached his arms up and behind him, grabbing Brian by the hair and pulling his mouth down to his, his neck straining around, the muscles screaming in protest but he didn’t care. The feeling of Brian’s soft lips desperately covering his own was too exquisite. Justin heard the sound of Brian’s zipper, his harsh breathing, then a condom wrapper ripped through the stillness of the apartment. He was pushed onto his hands and knees, Brian’s fully clothed body covering his, his knees nudging Justin’s legs apart. And then Brian was inside of him, filling Justin’s body. Justin arched his back, trying to accommodate, still not used to penetration. Brian’s hand stroked him, and his cock hit his prostate. Justin cried out as he came hard, Brian’s name on his lips.
* * *
“I’m getting you a new bed,” Brian said. He pulled his shirt off, folded it, and tossed it to join his carefully folded pants at the end of the mattress. Then he lay on his back, and folded his hands over his chest.
Justin propped himself up on one elbow, so he could look down on the other man. “No, you aren’t. Unless you’re planning to live here.”
Brian just snorted in response, but Justin could see the gleam of his open eyes through the gloom.
“What the fuck, Brian? What was that?”
“What, that I want to fuck you in a comfortable bed?”
“You don’t need a bed for that.”
“No, I don’t.”
Justin shivered, thinking of all the possibilities that statement opened up. He reached out, and traced Brian’s nipple with his forefinger, gratified when Brian shuddered. “That was hot.”
“Of course it was.”
Justin sighed, deciding not to question this right now. They’d wanted to fuck, and they had, end of story. Certainly, he had wanted Brian again, ever since the night in Brian’s loft, hell, even before that. He’d never actually stopped wanting Brian, from the moment he’d seen him, all those years ago. And the fire burned just as hot between them, hotter actually, condensed to a white light he carried near his heart. Or in his groin, Justin thought, grinning suddenly. He always wanted Brian. And right now, he would just as soon enjoy the next fuck they were about to share, rather than talk about it. Justin’s tongue followed his finger onto Brian’s body, and Brian groaned, his hand moving to Justin’s head, weaving his fingers into Justin’s hair and tugging on it, pushing Justin’s head to descend toward his cock. Justin went with the pressure; he was on his way anyway. Why fight a good thing?
When he woke in the morning, Brian was gone.
_____
*From Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken"
Part 4