Fic: In Sickness [BJ Valentine's Sex-A-Thon - Day 5]
Title: In Sickness
Author: museme87
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 4,975
Warnings: strong language, sexual situations, toppy!Justin, rimming, cancer discussion
Summary: Justin fears Brian has bad news when he's invited to meet Brian in Chicago for a weekend getaway.
Author's Note: Written for my BJ Valentine's Sex-A-Thon project for the prompt of, Because tonight, Brian, it's your turn, which earned an impressive 16 votes! This is set sometime during late S4, but without any heavy canon incorporation to ground it to a specific point. Much love to L for betaing and to P for the summary and title assistance.
His nerves are shot with anticipation as he walks down the hall of the Ritz-Carlton to the suite Brian had reserved for them. One week without his partner-and yes, they were fucking partners, regardless of what Brian claimed-was long enough to have him certifiably committed. Brian would call him a needy twat and a drama princess, but anyone who had ever had or been had by Brian Kinney would understand where he's coming from.
Sex with Brian can be that addictive.
It's not just the distance-imposed abstinence that's making him jittery, though. Brian's call yesterday about a plane ticket and meeting him in Chicago for a weekend away from the Pitts was just so out of character. For a minute, Justin had thought something had come up at his last visit with his doctor. That the cancer isn't gone or it's spread or some other bullshit that Justin's just not ready to process yet. He knows that, if the cancer is going to reoccur, eighty to ninety percent of the time it happens in the first year. Justin isn't sure what to do with that information or any of it that he poured over and memorized months ago during late nights and stolen moments during the day. It's just too overwhelming to consider.
But he has to consider it, has to dig up all the facts, numbers, and statistics. And the moment he does that, he feels a sting to his eyes and doesn't try to blame allergies. At least, not this time. He doesn't have to be strong because Brian's not here with him right now.
Justin pauses mid-way down the hall, leans against wall, and takes a deep breath to collect himself. It's not the fucking cancer. He exhales, shaking a bit. Life just doesn't suck that much. After everything they've been through…
No. Just no.
It doesn't. And it's not. And there's got to be some sort of rational explanation for all this-the ticket, the hotel, the romantic weekend getaway. Something that isn't cancer. The only problem that Justin's having with all those lies he's feeding himself is that he knows that Brian doesn't do romance like this.
Because he can't take it anymore-the not-knowing, whatever the hell it may mean for them-Justin finishes his walk down the hallway with quick strides and feeds the keycard into the lock for room three-nine-two.
He finds Brian naked in bed with just a sheet messily draped over his waist and legs. Justin thinks it's stupid to still be so entranced by that skin, those eyes, that eyebrow arched in annoyance. But every now and then-whether it's silly or childish or wistfully romantic-he'll be reminded of the fact that he's with the only man he's ever truly wanted.
"About damn time," Brian huffs, setting his half-smoked cigarette in the ash tray on the nightstand.
Justin's not exactly sure this is a smoking room, but Brian probably wouldn't give a damn anyway. He also refrains from lecturing him on the fact that he shouldn't be smoking in the first place. Or mentioning that he's still weak from the treatments and the months-long-sickness, that inhaling benzene, formaldehyde, arsenic, and cadmium-among other toxins and carcinogens-will not improve his quality of life.
So instead, Justin drops his bag and shrugs. "If you hadn't insisted on flying me out here in one-stop first-class rather than non-stop coach, I wouldn't have had a three hour delay in Columbus."
"You're not flying in fucking coach, Sunshine."
"No, you wouldn't want me catching the plague from all the filthy peasants and gutter trash there, would you?" Justin rolls his eyes with a smile and begins to strip. "Sometimes you're such a pretentious asshole, Brian."
"You didn't have to come."
Midway through slipping off his jeans, Justin pauses, reminded of the fact that he has no clue why he's here in the first place. He carefully looks Brian over, watching for any sign that he might be sick. Well, sicker because he's still not at a hundred percent. When Justin doesn't find anything out of the ordinary-aside from tired eyes-he isn't sure whether he should be relieved or worried. After all, he would have never guessed Brian had cancer before the diagnosis.
"You asked me to," he says simply, because honestly he doesn't know how else to respond.
Brian smirks. "You could have said no."
"Yeah, right. When have I ever said no?"
Once or twice, he's sure he has. He's also fussed, bitched, and grumbled quite a bit during their three years-give or take-together. But to outright deny Brian his pleasure? Yeah, not too often. One time in particular does stand out, but Justin doesn't really like to revisit those months of his life too often.
He finishes stripping, very aware of Brian's eyes on him. Maybe for that reason, he takes a moment to stand, naked, in the middle of the room, giving Brian a little show. Brian's eyes on him make him feel so fucking wanted, so fucking sexy that he can't help but get hard. And the way that Brian bites his lips, all but begs him to get in the bed right now, doesn't really help matters.
When Justin can't bear it any longer, he slips between the rumpled sheet and kisses Brian sweetly, a little Hello, honey, how was your day? that sounds stupid and cheesy to the point where he would never say it in real life. Not to mention that Brian would kill him for any term of endearment beyond their normal asshole and Sunshine. But Justin feels the question and tries to make Brian feel it too-his concern, his happiness, and everything that falls in between.
Brian pulls back slightly, hand still warm on Justin's neck, and nudges Justin's nose with his own. "I missed you."
"Are you okay?"
It accidentally slips out, and Justin thinks that Brian is going to kick him out of the bed-like he had when they were seventeen and twenty-nine-because he loathes that question. So when Brian huffs a laugh instead, he feels momentarily relieved.
"I'm fucking fine aside from the fact that Leo's been running me ragged. What kind of question is that?"
"I was just wondering. You didn't mention…"
The sharp look he gets from Brian has him ending that thought prematurely, and the scowl that follows makes him feel like he's just some disposable twink again.
"Because I didn't regale you with tales from my latest adventure with Dr. Fairmont before I left to fix this goddamn mess with Brown? Let's get something straight-"
"I'm not your doctor, I'm not your goddamn mother, and I'm sure as hell not your husband, so your health is none of my fucking business?" Justin offers, having had this argument enough times to recall it word for word.
"Yeah, something like that."
Brian pulls away from him, lies back comfortably in bed and shuts his eyes with a sigh. The festering argument dissipates between them as quickly as it came, and Justin can't help but be relieved. He lies down too, careful to stay on his own side of the bed and resist doing anything that might be labeled "cuddling" because Brian "doesn't do cuddling". Even though he so does, and Justin doesn't give a shit what Brian says to the contrary.
"I'm fine," Brian mumbles, after silent minutes pass.
A peace-offering, then, for the almost-spat? Justin will take it in a heartbeat. He's so damn relieved that the tension in his body-that he honestly didn't even realize was there-eases to the point where he can relax.
"You'll tell me if you aren't, right?" he asks, his tone a little hesitant because this sickness hasn't brought out the best in their relationship.
Brian looks over to him, stares him down briefly but maybe not in a bad way. Sometimes it's still hard to read Brian. Sometimes, when Justin thinks he has Brian pinned down, something shifts, leaving him blindsided. It's as infuriating as much as it is intriguing. Though Justin does relish in the fact that more often than not he does get him.
"I promised I'd tell you, didn't I?"
"Yeah, but that was a few weeks ago." Justin smiles softly. "You ought to know that a lot can change between us in a few weeks."
"Not this."
It's as good as Brian saying We're partners, you little twat, and it's stupid how two words can make him feel so loved. He's had to hear how Brian will never commit, how he's the flavor of the week for the past three years. He'd be a liar if he said that it didn't hurt him, wear him down until he started seconding guessing everything between them. And once, Justin had honestly thought that maybe it was all true-that Brian couldn't love.
What a bunch of bullshit. Justin thinks that Brian loves him more, in his own way, in one day than some people will ever experience in their lifetime. And he's so incredibly grateful for that.
"I missed you too, Brian."
"As if there was any doubt."
"A lot."
His tone suddenly suggestive, Brian smirks, leers at him for a long moment. Now that he knows Brian is okay, Justin can satisfy his other needs. He slips a hand across Brian's chest-playing careful attention to his nipples-and leans in to kiss beneath his ear.
"I'm fucking exhausted, Sunshine. I don't think I have a four hour marathon of the Brian and Justin show in me," Brian says, disappointed and worn.
He hates this, fucking hates it. There was a time when Justin thought he'd never hear Brian say he was too tired for sex. But then the cancer came, and all that changed. All that and so much more. Justin resents the fact that he's used to hearing it from Brian-not resentful of Brian, at least not for this. He understands that Brian's still recovering-of course he fucking understands-but that doesn't make it easier to swallow.
"I came here with the promise of sex, and you're making me settle for cuddling?" Justin teases. "Mr. Kinney, I think the only reason you bought me a plane ticket is because you're tired of sleeping alone."
Sometimes the teasing helps. Sometimes it makes them feel normal again. Whole. Not a kid with permanent brain damage. Not a man missing a ball. Justin knows Brian gets it, especially when he snorts his amusement, cups Justin's cheek with his hand, and pulls him in for a kiss, tongue and all.
"I'm going to fuck you into the mattress at 6AM sharp before my meeting just for implying that I fucking cuddle."
"Is that supposed to be punishment? I'm not entirely sure it would be very effective."
"Oh, it will be, Sunshine." Brian thumbs Justin's cheekbone. "Because you're not going to be able to walk straight for a week."
"I have a better idea," Justin says, rolling them over and pinning Brian to the bed. "How about you let me do all the work tonight, and we can reach a mutually satisfying end to an otherwise shitty day?"
Brian scoffs. "Why the hell would I let you do something like that?"
Justin dips down so that his lips are dangerously close to Brian's ear. "Because, whether you want to admit it or not, you like my dick in your ass."
"Getting a little over-confident, aren't we, Sonnyboy?"
"Not really. If you hadn't enjoyed it the first time, there wouldn't have been a second time. Or a third time. Or a fourth time. Or a-"
Brian's hand promptly covers Justin's mouth, and Justin knows he has him.
"Are you really so pathetic that you keep count?" Brian asks, rolling his eyes before rolling over and turning out the light to sleep.
Justin waits until Brian's settled into his normal sleeping position, curled up on his side, before closing in the distance between them. When Justin's successfully invaded his personal space, Brian glances back over his shoulder, gives Justin a hard look, and turns away again.
Brian's silence is the only answer Justin needs.
His lips meet the hot flesh of Brian's shoulder, can feel the indentations that the sheet has made on otherwise flawless skin. His tongue flicks out to trace them, and Justin doesn't miss Brian's sudden, sharp breath. He kisses Brian's shoulder hard, once more for good measure.
"You're not telling me to stop," Justin notes, smirking.
"As if you'd fucking listen."
While Brian grumbles it, Justin doesn't miss the telltale signs of want in those words. He's really starting to wonder why they even have to go through with this old song and dance. Justin knows Brian wants it and Brian knows Brian wants it. It's no big secret between them, but apparently Brian still doesn't feel like admitting to the fact that once in a while, he likes a stiff prick up his ass. Maybe he understands why Brian does it around everyone else, but not around him. Moments like these make Justin wonder if there's still so much-too much-progress to be made here.
But if it troubles him, it only does so briefly. Justin's not about to let an opportunity to take Brian pass by because of something so stupid as misgivings about the non-defined, non-conventional aspects of their non-relationship. He's not eighteen; he's learned from his mistakes.
Gently, Justin presses against Brian's shoulder, nudging him onto his stomach. Brian naturally resists at first, and Justin wonders why he puts up with this sort of bullshit. Then he remembers that what they have is love, regardless of whether the words have ever been spoken. Not to mention the fact that all this bullshit and more is well worth the opportunity to top Brian. Justin's almost sure that he's the only person who ever has, which brings him back to his first point.
The resistance dissipates the moment that Justin brushes his lips against the back of Brian's neck. That's one of Brian's spots, and sometimes Justin thinks that, with enough patience and understanding of the circulatory system, he could get Brian off just by kissing and sucking it. As if proof, Brian makes the most beautifully blissed-out sound that Justin has ever heard.
It's sexy as hell, almost to the point where Justin is ready to have Brian right then and there. But he's not a kid, and he knows what'll happen if he rushes this. As much as Brian claims he's completely disinterested, he enjoys a slow build-up. Justin's learned that it's better for both of them that way. Less bitching from Brian. More time in Brian's ass for him. Everyone goes home happy.
And Brian signals he's ready for the slow build-up as he gets comfortable on his stomach. Justin ghosts a hand over the planes and contours of Brian's back, having always loved that particular feature. He can draw it from memory now. Does, sometimes, when he's alone and the inspiration strikes-whether for art or for something entirely different.
His eyes flutter shut as he works over Brian's back with his hands and his mind. Fingers nudge and ease into muscle, paying particular attention to the spots where Brian knots up. The attention relaxes Brian; Justin can tell by the contented sighs. He almost wishes he'd brought their massage oil with him. But this isn't about making Brian relax in that way, and Justin shifts, brings his mouth to Brian's spine and blazes a trail of kisses between his shoulder blades.
When he reaches the small of Brian's back, Justin feels Brian tense under his lips. The flick of tongue against hot skin doesn't really help ease him any, but enough time has taught Justin that this tension isn't the bad sort. Brian wants it, waits for it. And Justin is very happy to oblige.
Without hesitating, he parts Brian, dips his head to trace a wet path between his cheeks. Brian's scent, his taste-it all makes Justin's head spin and dick ache. He licks again-enough to keep Brian wanting without giving it up-flicks his tongue against Brian's opening enough to tease. The way Brian buries his head into the pillow to muffle the string of sounds that escape his throat tells Justin that he has him right where he wants him.
Their sex life is filled with Brian's grunts and gasps and moans. But there's something different about this-rimming and bottoming-that has Brian trying to hide them from Justin. They'd had a conversation about it once, which had ended beautifully with Brian refusing to call him for a week in anger and spite and Justin slumping into depression. Since then, Justin's not brought up the there's-nothing-shameful-about-submitting-Brian-and-I-like-knowing-I-make-you-feel-good conversation. And he won't because he doesn't have some sort of sadistic desire to watch Brian fuck every guy in Pittsburgh right in front of him with that stupid smirk on his face. His fuck-you-you-don't-own-me smirk that Justin wants to rip off his lips most of the time. Usually, though, he settles for angrily kissing it away instead.
So he settles now, knowing that Brian loves this-especially when he flicks again, this time with a little more pressure-but simply refuses to admit it. Basically, like everything else. But Justin gets it, hears it despite the silence, and it's somehow enough.
As Justin finally presses into the tightness, Brian's hips jerk. Justin steadies him with his hands, firm on Brian's hips, and dips in again. It's not long before he's lost in it completely, his own desire driving him on. He laps and sucks, thrusts and swirls until Brian's turning his head to gasp for air. Justin doesn't let up though, won't let Brian catch his breath for long. Brian's the bossiest bottom he's ever met-probably a result of having spent so much time being a control-freak top-but Justin wants to get one thing across loud and clear. He's in charge. He wants Brian to trust him, feel comfortable letting him call the shots, at least for a little bit.
It's always a struggle, but Justin thinks that Brian is being extra cooperative tonight. Justin has him open and ready without so much as one smartass comment from his usually ungrateful partner. No, that's a lie. Brian is grateful. Especially now. Especially since the cancer rests heavily on their minds-will it or won't it, and what will happen if it does? Sometimes it's hard to see beneath the biting wit and cold stares, beneath all that Brian says and does to push his friends away. Justin has to remind himself of that and stills his attentions.
He sits back on his legs, gazes at Brian to burn this moment in his memory-the low lighting, the dull colors that serve to accent the shadows and highlights of his incredible body. Justin has to remind himself that this isn't healthy-putting a halt to his entire life, even for a few spare seconds, just to try to grasp at the intangible.
They've been through so much, and Justin wants to go through so much more. Moving back in together, buying a house, taking romantic vacations for two, getting married, having babies-all the things that Justin knows Brian will never give him. But that's not important. What's important is that Brian doesn't give it to him because he won't, not because he's not around to deny him.
Blue eyes shut, and Justin can't believe he's rehashing the same thought processes he had for the past few months. Brian's fine; he's warm and pliant beneath him. Not cold in the ground. Here. But the fact that he could have been if he hadn't been fucking around with a doctor, if they'd been monogamous just like Justin has always secretly wanted, has him welling up with emotion.
"I love you," he says, hating the weakness in his voice but incapable of preventing it.
Brian looks over his shoulder, scowling. "Great. Thanks. Now if you don't mind-"
"Shut up. Listen to me." Justin takes a deep breath. "I just…I want you to know. It's not some bad case of puppy love. It's the real thing and-"
"I know that," Brian says, as if in complete disbelief that they're having this conversation. "You don't think I fucking know that?"
Justin wipes his dampening eyes, grumbling, "Fucking allergies."
"Justin."
"Sometimes I don't know what you think about me. Or us. And…even if you don't, you know, love me like I love you or-"
"Whoa, hey." Brian twists around to face him as best he can beneath him. "You know that's the farthest fucking thing from-"
"Let me get this out, please," Justin says quickly. "Even if you don't want to admit that you love me, I just want you to know that I've never doubted how I felt. Not for a minute. I always knew deep down that you were it for me."
"You need to see your therapist."
"Brian!" Justin scolds.
"I'm serious. This cancer-"
"-please don't say that word."
Hazel eyes narrow. "The fucking cancer has turned you into a worried, sentimental idiot. And while I-Christ, I can't believe I'm saying this-but while I appreciate all you've done, Sunshine, we can't fucking go on like this. I don't date morbid little twats."
"You don't date anyone."
Brian takes Justin by the wrist and pulls Justin on top of him, nose-to-nose. "What the hell do you call this then? All those years you were desperate to earn the title of 'Brian Kinney's boyfriend' and now you're just going to throw it away."
Justin's heart races at the word. Boyfriend. He really is a sentimental twat, just like Brian's been saying for years. And he knows that Brian loves him, but sometimes it's just harder to figure out how, especially when he's not heard those three words since the first night they fucked. They were fake then, whispered in a moment when Brian's inhibitions were low and quickly diving even lower. It's stupid to need them-Justin tries to tell himself that-but he wants them sometimes, despite all that Brian does to try to make him feel it.
"You'd better get in my ass, Sunshine, before I change my mind," Brian whispers against his lips.
Justin laughs, wipes away the rest of his allergy-induced tears, and throws him a questioning look. "You're not just saying that because you're taking pity on me, are you?"
Brian rolls his tongue in his cheek. "I'm saying it because I like your dick in my ass. And if you ever fucking repeat that to anyone, I will-"
Justin doesn't know what Brian will do because he's got his tongue down Brian's throat, effectively cutting off the looming threat.
He said it. He finally said it! Justin can't stop from smiling, laughs a bit from sheer happiness that earns him a light cuff on the head. In all their time together, Justin had never once thought that Brian would ever admit to liking bottoming with him. Justin knew he was good-he'd been told enough times and learned from the master-but to hear Brian say it? Christ, he can't keep his hands off of Brian.
"Will you stay like this so that I can see your face?"
They've not done that before. Judging from the look Brian sends him, they're not going to do that now. While it's a very small point to concede, Justin thinks he's asked too much of Brian, too much of a man who is barely willing to give anything.
Just as Justin's about to backpedal, to tell Brian that it's stupid and to forget it, Brian lies back against the bedding with a fixed stare. This is it-permission. Brian's gaze is wary, but the thing that Justin's been wanting all night is there too. Trust. And he's not going to fuck this up.
He reaches for a condom and tube of lube on the nightstand, tossing the condom down for now. With a flick of his thumb, Justin pops open the lube and generously coats his fingers before slipping against Brian's ass.
Their eyes lock as Justin, very gently, eases a finger past the ring of muscle. He groans from heat and tightness, maybe even from the way Brian suddenly shuts his eyes and sucks in a breath. Unsure of whether that was a good breath or a pained one, he stills his finger.
"Are you alright?"
"Fine. But I'll be a hell of a lot better if you get on with it."
Justin does, pressing another finger inside. He stretches Brian, brushes against his prostate until Brian is almost shaking beneath him. His expressions, the pleased and tortured noises that he's making enthrall Justin. They're completely different from the ones that Justin sees when Brian's on top or when he's riding Brian, more raw and exposed. And with each new one that he bears witness to, Justin thinks he falls in love a little harder, aches for Brian a little more.
Desperate now, he slips his fingers from Brian-not without Brian's dissatisfied whimper-and searches for the discarded condom. Justin made the mistake of using his right hand to finger Brian and now it tremors from strain and overuse, making tearing the condom all the more difficult. As he's fumbling with it, he feels Brian's hand on his, steadying it.
The touch is comforting, but Justin hates how his bashing still invades their lives. Sometimes the small ways are the worst, like now. All he wants to do is put on a fucking condom, but having spent all day drawing prevents that from happening easily.
Brian must see the frustration growing in him because he takes the condom from his hands. So it's over then? Justin's heart falls. He's not an invalid. He can do this, and who the hell does Brian think he is-
Oh.
A long moan tears through him as Brian slips the condom on him, rolls it down his shaft slowly and with enough pressure to bring bursts of sensation to his lower belly. Brian's never done this to him before, and it's so hot that Justin gets why Brian asks him to do it so often. Damn.
When the condom's on, Brian lifts up a little more, brings their mouths together with a firm hand on Justin's neck. He tastes so good that Justin can barely handle that and these new sexual experiences. And the game is nearly up before it ever begins when he hears Brian's whispered Fuck me between searing kisses.
There are moments of frantic shifting before Justin's pushing inside Brian, carefully because Brian isn't used to this at all. Hazel eyes never leave his, and Justin's so entranced by the gaze that the feel of Brian unbearably tight around him is a second thought.
He's so fucking sexy like this that Justin can barely wrap his mind around it. As he thrusts in entirely, filling Brian like he never has before, he pauses long enough to mentally sketch the look on Brian's face, the way his body is rigid with want and need.
"Sunshine," and it comes out half-whimpered, half-amused.
"Huh?"
"Draw your goddamn pictures later."
"Oh."
Maybe he had been staring a little longer than he'd intended.
"Oh," Brian mocks, before being silenced by a quick slam of Justin's hips.
Justin gets lost in Brian-the way Brian bears down on him, Brian's moans and grunts playing in stereo in his ears, the taste of salty-sweet skin on his tongue. When Brian starts meeting him thrust-for-thrust, starts to demand things, Justin calls him a bossy bottom, which earns him a much appreciated slap to the ass.
They smile. They laugh in between pleasured little sounds and trash-talking one another. They're so fucking alive right now, in this moment, with their guards down completely that Justin has tears in his eyes. They know how to have fun during sex, but this isn't fun. This is intimacy. Justin's felt this once before in the blue light of Brian's bed. When they were too scared to touch. When Brian wore a silk noose around his neck, spattered with the blood of a dead boy. When the echoes of Brian's Justin! played over and over again in his head and he wondered if he'd be able to let Brian inside him ever again.
They were broken then. They're broken now but better understand how to fill the cracks with the remnants of each other. Being with Brian like this-aching and buried balls deep-makes him feel whole. And Justin never wants to know what it feels like to be without that. He can't lose Brian.
"I love you," he whispers against Brian's ear, barely capable of getting it out because he's on the brink.
Brian's breath is shuddered, his hands a tangle in Justin's short hair. "I know."
"I can't live without you." It comes out as a rush as Justin struggles to feel more of Brian with every thrust.
"You won't have to." Brian gasps, and Justin thinks Brian understands what he means. "Promise."
As if that's what he'd been waiting to hear all night, Justin's seized by his orgasm, spilling himself inside Brian in a white-hot flash. Brian's clamping too-tightly around him only seconds later, thick ribbons of cum spurting between their stomachs. Justin savors the warmth, the after-spasms that leave his legs shaking and heart racing.
Brian's hand rests over his eyes, his teeth worrying his lip. With his cheek pressed against Brian's chest as he slumps over, Justin can feel the steady, strong thud-thump, thud-thump of Brian's heart.
It's the sweetest sound he's ever heard.
Author: museme87
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 4,975
Warnings: strong language, sexual situations, toppy!Justin, rimming, cancer discussion
Summary: Justin fears Brian has bad news when he's invited to meet Brian in Chicago for a weekend getaway.
Author's Note: Written for my BJ Valentine's Sex-A-Thon project for the prompt of, Because tonight, Brian, it's your turn, which earned an impressive 16 votes! This is set sometime during late S4, but without any heavy canon incorporation to ground it to a specific point. Much love to L for betaing and to P for the summary and title assistance.
His nerves are shot with anticipation as he walks down the hall of the Ritz-Carlton to the suite Brian had reserved for them. One week without his partner-and yes, they were fucking partners, regardless of what Brian claimed-was long enough to have him certifiably committed. Brian would call him a needy twat and a drama princess, but anyone who had ever had or been had by Brian Kinney would understand where he's coming from.
Sex with Brian can be that addictive.
It's not just the distance-imposed abstinence that's making him jittery, though. Brian's call yesterday about a plane ticket and meeting him in Chicago for a weekend away from the Pitts was just so out of character. For a minute, Justin had thought something had come up at his last visit with his doctor. That the cancer isn't gone or it's spread or some other bullshit that Justin's just not ready to process yet. He knows that, if the cancer is going to reoccur, eighty to ninety percent of the time it happens in the first year. Justin isn't sure what to do with that information or any of it that he poured over and memorized months ago during late nights and stolen moments during the day. It's just too overwhelming to consider.
But he has to consider it, has to dig up all the facts, numbers, and statistics. And the moment he does that, he feels a sting to his eyes and doesn't try to blame allergies. At least, not this time. He doesn't have to be strong because Brian's not here with him right now.
Justin pauses mid-way down the hall, leans against wall, and takes a deep breath to collect himself. It's not the fucking cancer. He exhales, shaking a bit. Life just doesn't suck that much. After everything they've been through…
No. Just no.
It doesn't. And it's not. And there's got to be some sort of rational explanation for all this-the ticket, the hotel, the romantic weekend getaway. Something that isn't cancer. The only problem that Justin's having with all those lies he's feeding himself is that he knows that Brian doesn't do romance like this.
Because he can't take it anymore-the not-knowing, whatever the hell it may mean for them-Justin finishes his walk down the hallway with quick strides and feeds the keycard into the lock for room three-nine-two.
He finds Brian naked in bed with just a sheet messily draped over his waist and legs. Justin thinks it's stupid to still be so entranced by that skin, those eyes, that eyebrow arched in annoyance. But every now and then-whether it's silly or childish or wistfully romantic-he'll be reminded of the fact that he's with the only man he's ever truly wanted.
"About damn time," Brian huffs, setting his half-smoked cigarette in the ash tray on the nightstand.
Justin's not exactly sure this is a smoking room, but Brian probably wouldn't give a damn anyway. He also refrains from lecturing him on the fact that he shouldn't be smoking in the first place. Or mentioning that he's still weak from the treatments and the months-long-sickness, that inhaling benzene, formaldehyde, arsenic, and cadmium-among other toxins and carcinogens-will not improve his quality of life.
So instead, Justin drops his bag and shrugs. "If you hadn't insisted on flying me out here in one-stop first-class rather than non-stop coach, I wouldn't have had a three hour delay in Columbus."
"You're not flying in fucking coach, Sunshine."
"No, you wouldn't want me catching the plague from all the filthy peasants and gutter trash there, would you?" Justin rolls his eyes with a smile and begins to strip. "Sometimes you're such a pretentious asshole, Brian."
"You didn't have to come."
Midway through slipping off his jeans, Justin pauses, reminded of the fact that he has no clue why he's here in the first place. He carefully looks Brian over, watching for any sign that he might be sick. Well, sicker because he's still not at a hundred percent. When Justin doesn't find anything out of the ordinary-aside from tired eyes-he isn't sure whether he should be relieved or worried. After all, he would have never guessed Brian had cancer before the diagnosis.
"You asked me to," he says simply, because honestly he doesn't know how else to respond.
Brian smirks. "You could have said no."
"Yeah, right. When have I ever said no?"
Once or twice, he's sure he has. He's also fussed, bitched, and grumbled quite a bit during their three years-give or take-together. But to outright deny Brian his pleasure? Yeah, not too often. One time in particular does stand out, but Justin doesn't really like to revisit those months of his life too often.
He finishes stripping, very aware of Brian's eyes on him. Maybe for that reason, he takes a moment to stand, naked, in the middle of the room, giving Brian a little show. Brian's eyes on him make him feel so fucking wanted, so fucking sexy that he can't help but get hard. And the way that Brian bites his lips, all but begs him to get in the bed right now, doesn't really help matters.
When Justin can't bear it any longer, he slips between the rumpled sheet and kisses Brian sweetly, a little Hello, honey, how was your day? that sounds stupid and cheesy to the point where he would never say it in real life. Not to mention that Brian would kill him for any term of endearment beyond their normal asshole and Sunshine. But Justin feels the question and tries to make Brian feel it too-his concern, his happiness, and everything that falls in between.
Brian pulls back slightly, hand still warm on Justin's neck, and nudges Justin's nose with his own. "I missed you."
"Are you okay?"
It accidentally slips out, and Justin thinks that Brian is going to kick him out of the bed-like he had when they were seventeen and twenty-nine-because he loathes that question. So when Brian huffs a laugh instead, he feels momentarily relieved.
"I'm fucking fine aside from the fact that Leo's been running me ragged. What kind of question is that?"
"I was just wondering. You didn't mention…"
The sharp look he gets from Brian has him ending that thought prematurely, and the scowl that follows makes him feel like he's just some disposable twink again.
"Because I didn't regale you with tales from my latest adventure with Dr. Fairmont before I left to fix this goddamn mess with Brown? Let's get something straight-"
"I'm not your doctor, I'm not your goddamn mother, and I'm sure as hell not your husband, so your health is none of my fucking business?" Justin offers, having had this argument enough times to recall it word for word.
"Yeah, something like that."
Brian pulls away from him, lies back comfortably in bed and shuts his eyes with a sigh. The festering argument dissipates between them as quickly as it came, and Justin can't help but be relieved. He lies down too, careful to stay on his own side of the bed and resist doing anything that might be labeled "cuddling" because Brian "doesn't do cuddling". Even though he so does, and Justin doesn't give a shit what Brian says to the contrary.
"I'm fine," Brian mumbles, after silent minutes pass.
A peace-offering, then, for the almost-spat? Justin will take it in a heartbeat. He's so damn relieved that the tension in his body-that he honestly didn't even realize was there-eases to the point where he can relax.
"You'll tell me if you aren't, right?" he asks, his tone a little hesitant because this sickness hasn't brought out the best in their relationship.
Brian looks over to him, stares him down briefly but maybe not in a bad way. Sometimes it's still hard to read Brian. Sometimes, when Justin thinks he has Brian pinned down, something shifts, leaving him blindsided. It's as infuriating as much as it is intriguing. Though Justin does relish in the fact that more often than not he does get him.
"I promised I'd tell you, didn't I?"
"Yeah, but that was a few weeks ago." Justin smiles softly. "You ought to know that a lot can change between us in a few weeks."
"Not this."
It's as good as Brian saying We're partners, you little twat, and it's stupid how two words can make him feel so loved. He's had to hear how Brian will never commit, how he's the flavor of the week for the past three years. He'd be a liar if he said that it didn't hurt him, wear him down until he started seconding guessing everything between them. And once, Justin had honestly thought that maybe it was all true-that Brian couldn't love.
What a bunch of bullshit. Justin thinks that Brian loves him more, in his own way, in one day than some people will ever experience in their lifetime. And he's so incredibly grateful for that.
"I missed you too, Brian."
"As if there was any doubt."
"A lot."
His tone suddenly suggestive, Brian smirks, leers at him for a long moment. Now that he knows Brian is okay, Justin can satisfy his other needs. He slips a hand across Brian's chest-playing careful attention to his nipples-and leans in to kiss beneath his ear.
"I'm fucking exhausted, Sunshine. I don't think I have a four hour marathon of the Brian and Justin show in me," Brian says, disappointed and worn.
He hates this, fucking hates it. There was a time when Justin thought he'd never hear Brian say he was too tired for sex. But then the cancer came, and all that changed. All that and so much more. Justin resents the fact that he's used to hearing it from Brian-not resentful of Brian, at least not for this. He understands that Brian's still recovering-of course he fucking understands-but that doesn't make it easier to swallow.
"I came here with the promise of sex, and you're making me settle for cuddling?" Justin teases. "Mr. Kinney, I think the only reason you bought me a plane ticket is because you're tired of sleeping alone."
Sometimes the teasing helps. Sometimes it makes them feel normal again. Whole. Not a kid with permanent brain damage. Not a man missing a ball. Justin knows Brian gets it, especially when he snorts his amusement, cups Justin's cheek with his hand, and pulls him in for a kiss, tongue and all.
"I'm going to fuck you into the mattress at 6AM sharp before my meeting just for implying that I fucking cuddle."
"Is that supposed to be punishment? I'm not entirely sure it would be very effective."
"Oh, it will be, Sunshine." Brian thumbs Justin's cheekbone. "Because you're not going to be able to walk straight for a week."
"I have a better idea," Justin says, rolling them over and pinning Brian to the bed. "How about you let me do all the work tonight, and we can reach a mutually satisfying end to an otherwise shitty day?"
Brian scoffs. "Why the hell would I let you do something like that?"
Justin dips down so that his lips are dangerously close to Brian's ear. "Because, whether you want to admit it or not, you like my dick in your ass."
"Getting a little over-confident, aren't we, Sonnyboy?"
"Not really. If you hadn't enjoyed it the first time, there wouldn't have been a second time. Or a third time. Or a fourth time. Or a-"
Brian's hand promptly covers Justin's mouth, and Justin knows he has him.
"Are you really so pathetic that you keep count?" Brian asks, rolling his eyes before rolling over and turning out the light to sleep.
Justin waits until Brian's settled into his normal sleeping position, curled up on his side, before closing in the distance between them. When Justin's successfully invaded his personal space, Brian glances back over his shoulder, gives Justin a hard look, and turns away again.
Brian's silence is the only answer Justin needs.
His lips meet the hot flesh of Brian's shoulder, can feel the indentations that the sheet has made on otherwise flawless skin. His tongue flicks out to trace them, and Justin doesn't miss Brian's sudden, sharp breath. He kisses Brian's shoulder hard, once more for good measure.
"You're not telling me to stop," Justin notes, smirking.
"As if you'd fucking listen."
While Brian grumbles it, Justin doesn't miss the telltale signs of want in those words. He's really starting to wonder why they even have to go through with this old song and dance. Justin knows Brian wants it and Brian knows Brian wants it. It's no big secret between them, but apparently Brian still doesn't feel like admitting to the fact that once in a while, he likes a stiff prick up his ass. Maybe he understands why Brian does it around everyone else, but not around him. Moments like these make Justin wonder if there's still so much-too much-progress to be made here.
But if it troubles him, it only does so briefly. Justin's not about to let an opportunity to take Brian pass by because of something so stupid as misgivings about the non-defined, non-conventional aspects of their non-relationship. He's not eighteen; he's learned from his mistakes.
Gently, Justin presses against Brian's shoulder, nudging him onto his stomach. Brian naturally resists at first, and Justin wonders why he puts up with this sort of bullshit. Then he remembers that what they have is love, regardless of whether the words have ever been spoken. Not to mention the fact that all this bullshit and more is well worth the opportunity to top Brian. Justin's almost sure that he's the only person who ever has, which brings him back to his first point.
The resistance dissipates the moment that Justin brushes his lips against the back of Brian's neck. That's one of Brian's spots, and sometimes Justin thinks that, with enough patience and understanding of the circulatory system, he could get Brian off just by kissing and sucking it. As if proof, Brian makes the most beautifully blissed-out sound that Justin has ever heard.
It's sexy as hell, almost to the point where Justin is ready to have Brian right then and there. But he's not a kid, and he knows what'll happen if he rushes this. As much as Brian claims he's completely disinterested, he enjoys a slow build-up. Justin's learned that it's better for both of them that way. Less bitching from Brian. More time in Brian's ass for him. Everyone goes home happy.
And Brian signals he's ready for the slow build-up as he gets comfortable on his stomach. Justin ghosts a hand over the planes and contours of Brian's back, having always loved that particular feature. He can draw it from memory now. Does, sometimes, when he's alone and the inspiration strikes-whether for art or for something entirely different.
His eyes flutter shut as he works over Brian's back with his hands and his mind. Fingers nudge and ease into muscle, paying particular attention to the spots where Brian knots up. The attention relaxes Brian; Justin can tell by the contented sighs. He almost wishes he'd brought their massage oil with him. But this isn't about making Brian relax in that way, and Justin shifts, brings his mouth to Brian's spine and blazes a trail of kisses between his shoulder blades.
When he reaches the small of Brian's back, Justin feels Brian tense under his lips. The flick of tongue against hot skin doesn't really help ease him any, but enough time has taught Justin that this tension isn't the bad sort. Brian wants it, waits for it. And Justin is very happy to oblige.
Without hesitating, he parts Brian, dips his head to trace a wet path between his cheeks. Brian's scent, his taste-it all makes Justin's head spin and dick ache. He licks again-enough to keep Brian wanting without giving it up-flicks his tongue against Brian's opening enough to tease. The way Brian buries his head into the pillow to muffle the string of sounds that escape his throat tells Justin that he has him right where he wants him.
Their sex life is filled with Brian's grunts and gasps and moans. But there's something different about this-rimming and bottoming-that has Brian trying to hide them from Justin. They'd had a conversation about it once, which had ended beautifully with Brian refusing to call him for a week in anger and spite and Justin slumping into depression. Since then, Justin's not brought up the there's-nothing-shameful-about-submitting-Brian-and-I-like-knowing-I-make-you-feel-good conversation. And he won't because he doesn't have some sort of sadistic desire to watch Brian fuck every guy in Pittsburgh right in front of him with that stupid smirk on his face. His fuck-you-you-don't-own-me smirk that Justin wants to rip off his lips most of the time. Usually, though, he settles for angrily kissing it away instead.
So he settles now, knowing that Brian loves this-especially when he flicks again, this time with a little more pressure-but simply refuses to admit it. Basically, like everything else. But Justin gets it, hears it despite the silence, and it's somehow enough.
As Justin finally presses into the tightness, Brian's hips jerk. Justin steadies him with his hands, firm on Brian's hips, and dips in again. It's not long before he's lost in it completely, his own desire driving him on. He laps and sucks, thrusts and swirls until Brian's turning his head to gasp for air. Justin doesn't let up though, won't let Brian catch his breath for long. Brian's the bossiest bottom he's ever met-probably a result of having spent so much time being a control-freak top-but Justin wants to get one thing across loud and clear. He's in charge. He wants Brian to trust him, feel comfortable letting him call the shots, at least for a little bit.
It's always a struggle, but Justin thinks that Brian is being extra cooperative tonight. Justin has him open and ready without so much as one smartass comment from his usually ungrateful partner. No, that's a lie. Brian is grateful. Especially now. Especially since the cancer rests heavily on their minds-will it or won't it, and what will happen if it does? Sometimes it's hard to see beneath the biting wit and cold stares, beneath all that Brian says and does to push his friends away. Justin has to remind himself of that and stills his attentions.
He sits back on his legs, gazes at Brian to burn this moment in his memory-the low lighting, the dull colors that serve to accent the shadows and highlights of his incredible body. Justin has to remind himself that this isn't healthy-putting a halt to his entire life, even for a few spare seconds, just to try to grasp at the intangible.
They've been through so much, and Justin wants to go through so much more. Moving back in together, buying a house, taking romantic vacations for two, getting married, having babies-all the things that Justin knows Brian will never give him. But that's not important. What's important is that Brian doesn't give it to him because he won't, not because he's not around to deny him.
Blue eyes shut, and Justin can't believe he's rehashing the same thought processes he had for the past few months. Brian's fine; he's warm and pliant beneath him. Not cold in the ground. Here. But the fact that he could have been if he hadn't been fucking around with a doctor, if they'd been monogamous just like Justin has always secretly wanted, has him welling up with emotion.
"I love you," he says, hating the weakness in his voice but incapable of preventing it.
Brian looks over his shoulder, scowling. "Great. Thanks. Now if you don't mind-"
"Shut up. Listen to me." Justin takes a deep breath. "I just…I want you to know. It's not some bad case of puppy love. It's the real thing and-"
"I know that," Brian says, as if in complete disbelief that they're having this conversation. "You don't think I fucking know that?"
Justin wipes his dampening eyes, grumbling, "Fucking allergies."
"Justin."
"Sometimes I don't know what you think about me. Or us. And…even if you don't, you know, love me like I love you or-"
"Whoa, hey." Brian twists around to face him as best he can beneath him. "You know that's the farthest fucking thing from-"
"Let me get this out, please," Justin says quickly. "Even if you don't want to admit that you love me, I just want you to know that I've never doubted how I felt. Not for a minute. I always knew deep down that you were it for me."
"You need to see your therapist."
"Brian!" Justin scolds.
"I'm serious. This cancer-"
"-please don't say that word."
Hazel eyes narrow. "The fucking cancer has turned you into a worried, sentimental idiot. And while I-Christ, I can't believe I'm saying this-but while I appreciate all you've done, Sunshine, we can't fucking go on like this. I don't date morbid little twats."
"You don't date anyone."
Brian takes Justin by the wrist and pulls Justin on top of him, nose-to-nose. "What the hell do you call this then? All those years you were desperate to earn the title of 'Brian Kinney's boyfriend' and now you're just going to throw it away."
Justin's heart races at the word. Boyfriend. He really is a sentimental twat, just like Brian's been saying for years. And he knows that Brian loves him, but sometimes it's just harder to figure out how, especially when he's not heard those three words since the first night they fucked. They were fake then, whispered in a moment when Brian's inhibitions were low and quickly diving even lower. It's stupid to need them-Justin tries to tell himself that-but he wants them sometimes, despite all that Brian does to try to make him feel it.
"You'd better get in my ass, Sunshine, before I change my mind," Brian whispers against his lips.
Justin laughs, wipes away the rest of his allergy-induced tears, and throws him a questioning look. "You're not just saying that because you're taking pity on me, are you?"
Brian rolls his tongue in his cheek. "I'm saying it because I like your dick in my ass. And if you ever fucking repeat that to anyone, I will-"
Justin doesn't know what Brian will do because he's got his tongue down Brian's throat, effectively cutting off the looming threat.
He said it. He finally said it! Justin can't stop from smiling, laughs a bit from sheer happiness that earns him a light cuff on the head. In all their time together, Justin had never once thought that Brian would ever admit to liking bottoming with him. Justin knew he was good-he'd been told enough times and learned from the master-but to hear Brian say it? Christ, he can't keep his hands off of Brian.
"Will you stay like this so that I can see your face?"
They've not done that before. Judging from the look Brian sends him, they're not going to do that now. While it's a very small point to concede, Justin thinks he's asked too much of Brian, too much of a man who is barely willing to give anything.
Just as Justin's about to backpedal, to tell Brian that it's stupid and to forget it, Brian lies back against the bedding with a fixed stare. This is it-permission. Brian's gaze is wary, but the thing that Justin's been wanting all night is there too. Trust. And he's not going to fuck this up.
He reaches for a condom and tube of lube on the nightstand, tossing the condom down for now. With a flick of his thumb, Justin pops open the lube and generously coats his fingers before slipping against Brian's ass.
Their eyes lock as Justin, very gently, eases a finger past the ring of muscle. He groans from heat and tightness, maybe even from the way Brian suddenly shuts his eyes and sucks in a breath. Unsure of whether that was a good breath or a pained one, he stills his finger.
"Are you alright?"
"Fine. But I'll be a hell of a lot better if you get on with it."
Justin does, pressing another finger inside. He stretches Brian, brushes against his prostate until Brian is almost shaking beneath him. His expressions, the pleased and tortured noises that he's making enthrall Justin. They're completely different from the ones that Justin sees when Brian's on top or when he's riding Brian, more raw and exposed. And with each new one that he bears witness to, Justin thinks he falls in love a little harder, aches for Brian a little more.
Desperate now, he slips his fingers from Brian-not without Brian's dissatisfied whimper-and searches for the discarded condom. Justin made the mistake of using his right hand to finger Brian and now it tremors from strain and overuse, making tearing the condom all the more difficult. As he's fumbling with it, he feels Brian's hand on his, steadying it.
The touch is comforting, but Justin hates how his bashing still invades their lives. Sometimes the small ways are the worst, like now. All he wants to do is put on a fucking condom, but having spent all day drawing prevents that from happening easily.
Brian must see the frustration growing in him because he takes the condom from his hands. So it's over then? Justin's heart falls. He's not an invalid. He can do this, and who the hell does Brian think he is-
Oh.
A long moan tears through him as Brian slips the condom on him, rolls it down his shaft slowly and with enough pressure to bring bursts of sensation to his lower belly. Brian's never done this to him before, and it's so hot that Justin gets why Brian asks him to do it so often. Damn.
When the condom's on, Brian lifts up a little more, brings their mouths together with a firm hand on Justin's neck. He tastes so good that Justin can barely handle that and these new sexual experiences. And the game is nearly up before it ever begins when he hears Brian's whispered Fuck me between searing kisses.
There are moments of frantic shifting before Justin's pushing inside Brian, carefully because Brian isn't used to this at all. Hazel eyes never leave his, and Justin's so entranced by the gaze that the feel of Brian unbearably tight around him is a second thought.
He's so fucking sexy like this that Justin can barely wrap his mind around it. As he thrusts in entirely, filling Brian like he never has before, he pauses long enough to mentally sketch the look on Brian's face, the way his body is rigid with want and need.
"Sunshine," and it comes out half-whimpered, half-amused.
"Huh?"
"Draw your goddamn pictures later."
"Oh."
Maybe he had been staring a little longer than he'd intended.
"Oh," Brian mocks, before being silenced by a quick slam of Justin's hips.
Justin gets lost in Brian-the way Brian bears down on him, Brian's moans and grunts playing in stereo in his ears, the taste of salty-sweet skin on his tongue. When Brian starts meeting him thrust-for-thrust, starts to demand things, Justin calls him a bossy bottom, which earns him a much appreciated slap to the ass.
They smile. They laugh in between pleasured little sounds and trash-talking one another. They're so fucking alive right now, in this moment, with their guards down completely that Justin has tears in his eyes. They know how to have fun during sex, but this isn't fun. This is intimacy. Justin's felt this once before in the blue light of Brian's bed. When they were too scared to touch. When Brian wore a silk noose around his neck, spattered with the blood of a dead boy. When the echoes of Brian's Justin! played over and over again in his head and he wondered if he'd be able to let Brian inside him ever again.
They were broken then. They're broken now but better understand how to fill the cracks with the remnants of each other. Being with Brian like this-aching and buried balls deep-makes him feel whole. And Justin never wants to know what it feels like to be without that. He can't lose Brian.
"I love you," he whispers against Brian's ear, barely capable of getting it out because he's on the brink.
Brian's breath is shuddered, his hands a tangle in Justin's short hair. "I know."
"I can't live without you." It comes out as a rush as Justin struggles to feel more of Brian with every thrust.
"You won't have to." Brian gasps, and Justin thinks Brian understands what he means. "Promise."
As if that's what he'd been waiting to hear all night, Justin's seized by his orgasm, spilling himself inside Brian in a white-hot flash. Brian's clamping too-tightly around him only seconds later, thick ribbons of cum spurting between their stomachs. Justin savors the warmth, the after-spasms that leave his legs shaking and heart racing.
Brian's hand rests over his eyes, his teeth worrying his lip. With his cheek pressed against Brian's chest as he slumps over, Justin can feel the steady, strong thud-thump, thud-thump of Brian's heart.
It's the sweetest sound he's ever heard.