Seriously - Jane!fic
Seriously - Jane!fic
Justin liked Boston. Since Brian had meetings in the Massachusetts capitol, and Justin was on summer vacation, he had cleared a Monday from his jobs (well, he was with his boss so technically he wasn’t really taking time off from Kinnetic) and decided to visit a friend from PIFA who had transferred to the Museum of Fine Arts School last spring. Christie met him at his and Brian’s room at the Four Seasons Monday morning, to show him around the city, check out “her” museum, and take in Harvard Square, the Yard and of course the Fogg Art Museum, Harvard’s collection. Justin also wanted to see the medieval manuscripts Harvard had available. Since working for Brian, he had become interested in type and the history of illustrations that accompanied language texts.
“Swank joint,” Christie noted as they walked out of the hotel.
Justin just shrugged. He’d been teased enough by his fellow students at PIFA about his lux life with a sugar daddy; he really hated that, and never told Brian what other kids were saying. Brian would say he didn’t care, but Justin knew part of him did. He did not need to tell anyone that the relationship he had with his older man was not based on that. He quelled the reflexive grin that responded to the voice in his head saying, “Yeah, more the sex than the money.” That wasn’t really true either, but it was much nicer to contemplate what they had in those terms.
As he and Christie crossed Boylston Street, Justin responded, “Yeah, Brian’s at meetings all day, I won’t even get to see him until tonight, and then he’ll probably want to go over the campaigns he’s going to set up. That’s why I really appreciate this, Christie, showing me around.” They walked to the sidewalk at Arlington; the Garden was on one side, in full bloom this beautiful summer day, and the Common on the other, stretching its grassy length up toward Beacon Hill. On the lawns, children played, dogs ran, and an ultimate frisbee game was going on across the field that moved toward the top of the hill crested by the State House across the street from the Common.
Christie took the hint. “No problem, this is fun for me, too. You know how it is, if you live in a city, you never really see it. I’ve never seen the manuscript collection at Harvard, and had to figure out how to get permission to get in. So I learned something, too.”
Justin grinned back at her. Christie seemed happier; she was a lot more relaxed than she had been in Pittsburgh. “Too close to home,” was all she had said when he asked her, months ago, why she was transferring. He didn’t push after that; he got it.
“So, where we going?”
“North end, first, I thought you’d like to see some of the old buildings and shit. But, most importantly…” she took a dramatic pause, drawing Justin’s eye from the tanned, shirtless guy with the killer pecs in the frisbee game on their left, “Mike’s Pastries! Best confectioner on the eastern seaboard.” She smiled; Justin’s appetite was infamous.
“Oh, I love you.”
“Yes, you do.”
They walked up the path that brought them to the left, up the hill, moving to the State House. Justin watched its huge gold dome looming at the end of their walk. They mounted a flight of stairs that led them off the Common and onto Beacon Street, and…
Crowds, huge crowd, yelling, voices, cars honking, street blocked off. A man with a microphone on the steps to the capital addressing the crowd in a tinny voice that echoed off the surrounding buildings, police on horseback, at the top of the intersection at the corner of Beacon and Park, the main entrance to the capitol, now permanently closed due to security precautions. Still, this is where the protests took place, even if the legislators now entered and exited through the metal detectors at the sides and the back of the building. Justin groaned. He still hated crowds; getting through was going to be a bitch.
“It’s okay, we’ll just go up Joy Street… Ohhhh, right….” Christie glanced over at her companion. “You might actually be interested in this.” But she had stopped about a block from the protest, so the next move was Justin’s.
He peered forward, reading the signs. There was a small group of people on their knees on the sidewalk, praying. Others carried boards reading, “Gay marriage is an abomination of God!” Others carried placards that read, “Love is love!” and “God and the Courts - Justice!”
Now he remembered, Lindsey and Mel had been talking about this, making their official marriage actually legal, in Massachusetts. But Justin had been so caught up in his own life that he hadn’t really been following the news. “The gay marriage thing, huh? Why the protest now?”
Christie shook her head. “Geez, Justin, I’m not gay and even I know this one.”
“I live in Pittsburgh. You’re in the capitol of what these good people,” he gestured to a lady kneeling on the cement in a dress that looked from out of the pioneering days, her hands so tightly clasped together the knuckles were white, thin, bloodless lips moving soundlessly “would call Satan’s heartland.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” Christie grinned at him. She hated Pittsburgh, no more shit from her. Justin had learned a thing or two from the master about pushing the right buttons in people to steer them toward, and away, from whatever you wanted of them. It wasn’t manipulation, really, Justin thought - still, the power was gratifying. Especially when Brian let Justin use those tricks on him. Course, he always made clear he knew exactly what Justin was up to. Christie continued, “Today’s the day! The courts didn’t block it, and until the Supreme Court gets the argument, IF they agree to hear it - and the Massachusetts supreme courts wouldn’t - gay couples can be legally married. And apparently they’re doing so.”
“Holy shit.” Justin responded. The wheels were turning. He tried to stop them, he really did, but there they were. He watched for another minute. A woman was going head-to-head with a man in a really bad suit (wouldn’t Brian shudder at that?), screaming. Chanting broke out on both sides, as each group sought to out-shout the other. A woman on the far side of the street was screaming unintelligibly, her voice scratched beyond recognition of actual words. Justin had no idea which side she was on. The anger and hatred from the crowd in front of him was palpable; it was too much. Christie glanced across Beacon, to the side street that skirted the capitol. “Let’s go around, huh?” Justin nodded gratefully.
“So, how did meetings go?” Almost midnight, back in room 603. They were to leave early the next morning, on a 7am flight out of Logan. That meant they had to be up before five. Brian had gotten back to the hotel only an hour before. He didn’t say a word, just grabbed Justin in one of those soul-destroying kisses, picked him up and dumped him on the bed, not even breaking stride before his full weight descended.
“Fine,” Brian answered, dragging on his cigarette. He was playing with Justin’s left nipple, considering his next move. Sleep would probably be best, but both men knew it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Brian needed a shower; the shower in their room wasn’t anywhere nice as the one in the loft, but it would do… “How was your day, dear?” Brian mocked, handing Justin the cigarette.
Justin shook his head. Usually, he would answer with as terse a reply as he had just gotten. He was used to Brian, but this still bugged him. He *was* interested in what Brian got up to without him - okay, not everything, but things like his work, yeah. He didn’t ask to simulate couple-dom, he asked because he really was interested, and it annoyed him that all he got was a mocking reply, as if he didn’t count enough to be given a straight (okay, bad choice of word) answer. So he would usually just shoot back an annoyed answer, knowing that it didn’t bother Brian anywhere near as much as it annoyed him. And besides, he usually ended up telling Brian what he’d been up to anyway.
That was boring, he decided suddenly. Took too much energy. He didn’t realize that Brian’s hand had stilled, and he was looking down at the top of the blonde head, eyebrows raised. Justin was an open book most of the time; any change in his usual responses and patterns caught Brian’s attention. He knew Justin was so caught up in whatever he was thinking that he hadn’t caught on to Brian’s sudden stillness. Damn, it was so easy to forget how much Justin still had to learn; he thought he’d taught him to pay closer attention to what was going on around him, even if his own thoughts were the solution to world war. He should pay closer attention, Brian thought, especially if what is going on around him is me.
Justin looked up, considering. His face reflected not the tension that Brian had expected from the asshole response he’d just issued (so he was tired, Justin needed to take care of his own feelings sometimes, he’d deal with it, he always did), but there was in the younger man’s face a considering levelness that made Brian uneasy. Brian raised an eyebrow. His breathing stilled. Justin noticed that, and smiled.
“Actually, I had a very interesting day,” Justin replied. “It started out when we walked to the North end by way of the capitol building…”
Oh, shit, Brian knew exactly what was coming…
“…where gay couples are getting married. Yup, getting married in Massachusetts. It’s officially legal here, as of today.”
Brian looked down at his young lover, who was openly smiling at him. Damn, if he couldn’t read this one. A year ago, yeah, Justin had worn his heart on his sleeve and he wanted Brian, he wanted to lock him down and lock him in. Now… Justin was going through a fascinating readjustment in his attitude, and it wasn’t all Brian’s doing. He was more secure in his place in the world. And not just his place in Brian’s world; now, Brian had a place in Justin’s world. Much, much better, for both of them. But now Justin had a place to retreat to inside himself, and while Brian preferred this because there wasn’t that pressure to keep the boy happy all the time (as if he could ever do that anyway), still, it eroded his control. He was more comfortable with the status quo, definitely, more than he ever thought he would be, not that he thought he’d ever be in a rel… an association with another man, someone he could respect enough to form this kind of rel… assoc… oh, fuck, okay, *relationship* with, but still.
“And.” Brian prompted, knowing he should just wait, but also recognizing that somehow Justin had managed to control the trajectory of this little interplay. Brian vowed as soon as this was over to fuck him senseless, or maybe just fuck himself senseless to avoid thinking about why he was so willing, enjoying actually, following along on this little play. Words, words, words. Damnation, who’d have thought talking could make him so horny? When that talking was about something besides sex?
“And nothing. I just thought it was interesting. People were really angry. We cut around the capitol, avoided the whole mess.”
“Probably for the best.”
“You think so?” Now Justin reached up, ran his thumb along his lover’s lower lip. Brian’s tongue wrapped itself around, drew Justin’s thumb into his mouth. He sucked on it. Justin shivered.
“Yeah, especially with, you know, your history, that sort of thing could only cause problems.” Brian’s words were muffled. Justin’s touch and talking did not mix on his tongue.
Justin withdrew his hand, dropped it onto Brian’s chest, lifted his body so he was on his forearms, looking down at Brian’s face. He placed his leg over Brian’s, his knee bent, so that the top of his thigh barely brushed Brian’s cock, which responded immediately. “Seriously.”
Brian chuckled. “Y’ain’t playing fair, m’dear.”
“Sure I am. You taught me well, Master Kinney.”
“I didn’t teach you this one.”
“You taught me this…” Justin’s leg moved fluidly, slowly, a bare couple of inches down, so that the fine hairs on his leg brushed against the tip of Brian’s suddenly rock-hard dick. Brian’s gasp shot through in the quiet room. “Justin…” He reached for the face above him, but Justin grabbed his wrists and placed them over his head, pinned against the pillow. He continued to torture Brian’s lower body with the feather light touches, promising everything and delivering nothing. “Seriously. Brian.”
“Seriously. What.” This was just cruel; Brian could feel a drop of moisture run down onto his groin from the tip of his dick, which throbbed all on its own, straining for the tiny bit of contact Justin was allowing him. The hard grip above contrasted with the gentle caress below. Fuck, he was being worked, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered but that touch. When he was released, Brian vowed, he would really fuck the sense right out of this kid, the manipulative little… He laughed.
“What?” Justin asked, continuing to torment. He wasn’t letting Brian off just because he wasn’t responding normally, whatever normal was for him. Justin knew this tactic. When the game’s going against you, change the direction. No, uh uh. He continued his movements.
Brian stopped laughing, strained upward, touching nothing. Then, the light touch of thigh, withdrawn. The almost painful throb in response. “You have learned well, Master Taylor.”
Justin smiled, leaned in, kissed Brian’s mouth, but pulled back just before the contact got too involved. His lips tingled, and he was tempted to lean in again, but not yet, not yet.
“Seriously.” We’re back at that.
“You want to get married?” Brian asked. When all else fails, go direct.
Justin’s eyes widened; that was definitely unexpected. “I don’t know. I think it’s interesting to actually have the option.”
Brian knew that answer was not part of the game; Justin’s tone was serious and considering. Brian flexed his wrists, but they remained trapped in the grip above him. “Can we talk about this later?”
“No way.” That smile, holy shit, it did him in.
“You’re being unbelievably cruel.” Brian strained his hips upward, but Justin pulled back so that Brian’s cock just brushed his. Justin was definitely as ready for this as he was.
“So, answer the question.”
“Are you asking me to marry you?”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding.”
“Maybe I’m not.”
Justin looked down, considering that. Ha! Brian thought. Play with me, will you. He took advantage of Justin’s distraction, and shifted his hips up again, getting a long, satisfying contact with a hard thigh, groaning at the contact, but relieving the ache for just a moment. It would come back, worse, in just a moment, yup, there it was. “Cruel boy,” he whispered.
Justin had felt the contact as Brian rubbed his dick right between his balls. He felt that, right down to his toes. “Yeah, you’re right, too cruel,” he answered, surprising Brian once again. Justin let go of his wrists and kissing his lover deeply. Brian strained upward into the kiss, and rolled Justin onto his back, reaching for the supplies on the side table in the same movement. No more talking.
“You smoke too much,” Justin reprimanded as they lay back against the pillows, satisfied. Brian handed him the cigarette. Justin took a drag. “You shouldn’t encourage me.” He handed the cigarette back.
“You’ve got a brain of your own, tell me no.”
“I do sometimes.” They were quiet for a moment, Justin drifted with the echoes of sex moving through his body like a warm wind, settling slowly. “Seriously.”
Brian sighed. Damnation, the boy liked to talk. And why did he have to come to Boston today, of all days? And why did he have to take Justin with him? At the time, he had reasoned, he knew that the meetings would be long, and he knew there was nothing more he liked to do after 15 hour days than unwind. And Justin was his favorite means of unwinding. And he’d been following the news. So what had he done? Released Justin on his own in the city where the gay marriage thing was at the top of the news, right on the streets?
Why did all this not bother him more?
He took a deep breath, and put out the cigarette in the ashtray on the table his side of the bed. When he turned back, Justin had propped himself up on an elbow, and was looking at him strangely. “You can just say no, you’re not interested. You know that’s okay with me.”
“Yeah, I know.” But he didn’t continue right away.
Justin laughed, nervous now. “Are you going to tell me what you’re thinking?”
Brian was glad Justin was nervous, payback for tormenting him earlier. But he suddenly didn’t want to punish him, no matter how he’d told himself while Justin had him pinned down. Good God, where was this coming from? This desire to be serious, to not bullshit. But there it was. “I’m thinking about how to explain this,” he answered. Justin became very still, watching. He knew when to shut up. “Why would you want to get married, Justin?”
Now it was Justin’s turn to consider for a moment. Finally, he said, “Because you’re generous, even when you have nothing to be generous with. You take care of people, and I want to take care of you, even though you hate that, I want you to know there’s some kind of rule in whatever we have that’s us, telling you that you have to let me, whether you want to or not. I think we both need something we feel that no one can take away, that’s protected by more than just us. I mean, I know that it’s ours and no one can destroy what we have, only we can do that, but I want it to reach into the world outside of us. I want other people to know that this is serious.” That I’m not just some twink, that you’re not just my sugar daddy. He didn’t say that, because he knew that was his reason, and Brian could care less. But it was still true.
“I asked why you’d want to get married, and you assume I meant to me.” One last lame attempt to shunt this aside.
“Don’t be an ass.”
“You like me when I play the ass.”
“Ohhhh… no, don’t distract me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Yeah, okay, fine, so shut up and give me a second.” Brian replied, giving up in his usual caustic way, not terribly graceful at not getting his way. He pinched the bridge of nose, and considered what Justin had said. He hadn’t used the “L” word. Good, because it meant nothing. Justin was defining the word in real ways that actually applied to their life, not just spouting rhetorical nonsense. “You know we don’t need anyone else telling us what we have. It’s either there or it’s not. It’s less messy without documents that need to be undone when it comes apart.”
“I don’t think we’re going to.”
I don’t either, Brian thought, and closed his eyes. Fuck. He kept his eyes closed, not thinking. He didn’t want to dwell on the words that had just gone through his head.
Justin waited. When Brian opened his eyes, Justin continued, “I don’t like the idea of marriage much either, not the reasons some people use. They get married because they want children and they need a partnership for that project. They get married because they want the house, the nice cars, all the right stuff, pre-define the lifestyle before they even start thinking about who, exactly. Because it’s what they’re supposed to do. They don’t think about the person they choose so much as all the shit that comes with a relationship. The other person’s almost beside the point. They figure out what kind of lifestyle they want, and then they figure it’s easier to have that kind of a life if someone else is helping with the bills, they profile for whoever fits the bill, and then they lie that this person is who they really want and stay miserable for the rest of their lives because it’s easier and safer to be miserable and married than to look for a real love who will really tear your heart out.” Justin paused, smiled, swatted Brian’s chest, but then got serious again. “Or everyone else expects them to get married, so it’s easier to just give in to social pressure, and become part of the herd. So they find whoever suits the position of marriage partner, and the person himself, or herself, doesn’t matter. Do you think any of that’s us?”
“No.” The answer was quiet, succinct. Brian waited, watching.
“I choose you, Brian Kinney, because you’re you, I always have, rich or poor, sickness or health, marriage or not. Doesn’t matter, so long as you’re there. I just think that it’s interesting that the option is there now, is all,” Justin finished. “Do you still doubt how I feel about you?”
Brian shook his head. He opened his mouth, closed it, grabbed another cigarette.
“Don’t, please,” Justin asked, nodding at the pack Brian had in his hand. “I really need you to respond to this. Seriously.”
Brian put the cigarettes back down. Damn, he really needed one. He ran a hand through his hair, and sat up straighter, gesturing Justin to slide in against him, a request eagerly complied with. “Look,” Brian started, “I really don’t think it’s necessary. Marriage, I mean. You’re already on my insurance, in my will…”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really, don’t get any ideas, it’s all debt. But you’re taken care of.” He paused, then continued, carefully. “Anyway, okay, I get what you’re saying, that’s kind of… well, all me taking care of you. And,” he hurried to add as Justin raised his head from his shoulder, “and that doesn’t really reflect where we are, or where we’re headed. I rely on you, in my business, in my life. As my partner. In many more ways than one.” Brian took a deep breath, wondering if he should talk about this. His superstitions were weird; he denied the concept of chance or fate so forcefully that the superstitions he actually had jumped out at him as if they were located somewhere besides in his own head. He didn’t like to talk about these things, as if bringing them into words, into the air outside of his heart, into the real world where Justin wanted them to bring them, that it would jinx the future he saw through the haze, beginning to form into a future he would never have believed could exist, even a year ago. Now he did, and he was unsure how solid that hazy future really was. He continued, “I know this is more than just all me. And we seem to be headed toward equal positions with each other.” He paused, looked hard into Justin’s face, made sure Justin was following this, and not off somewhere else in his head. He did that, sometimes. Not now, though. Good. “But we’re not quite there yet.”
“The age thing, again.” Justin’s voice contained the bitterness he felt whenever that issue came up. It belittled the relationship they did have; he really hated the subject.
“No, don’t get upset, that’s not it exactly,” Brian assured him, stroking his back. “Not exactly. It’s just I’ve had a few more years to position myself in a secure place, at least financially, and definitely socially. Even the social thing is changing, and we both know the emotional thing is changing. So the age issue isn’t it at all. You always say, and you’re right, in some ways we’re in the same place. But because it’s still a shifting ground… I just want to get where I think we’re going before we have this conversation. And I just don’t think we’re there yet.”
“But we will be.”
“We’ll see.”
“And then we can have this conversation?”
“And then we can have this conversation.”
“Brian?”
“Yeah?”
Pause. Then, “Well, you know how I feel about you.”
Brian hesitated, then answered, “Yeah, I do. You know how I feel about you, too.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Then get some sleep.”
“So this conversation. Later?”
“Later.”
“Promise?”
“Shut up and sleep.”
Justin liked Boston. Since Brian had meetings in the Massachusetts capitol, and Justin was on summer vacation, he had cleared a Monday from his jobs (well, he was with his boss so technically he wasn’t really taking time off from Kinnetic) and decided to visit a friend from PIFA who had transferred to the Museum of Fine Arts School last spring. Christie met him at his and Brian’s room at the Four Seasons Monday morning, to show him around the city, check out “her” museum, and take in Harvard Square, the Yard and of course the Fogg Art Museum, Harvard’s collection. Justin also wanted to see the medieval manuscripts Harvard had available. Since working for Brian, he had become interested in type and the history of illustrations that accompanied language texts.
“Swank joint,” Christie noted as they walked out of the hotel.
Justin just shrugged. He’d been teased enough by his fellow students at PIFA about his lux life with a sugar daddy; he really hated that, and never told Brian what other kids were saying. Brian would say he didn’t care, but Justin knew part of him did. He did not need to tell anyone that the relationship he had with his older man was not based on that. He quelled the reflexive grin that responded to the voice in his head saying, “Yeah, more the sex than the money.” That wasn’t really true either, but it was much nicer to contemplate what they had in those terms.
As he and Christie crossed Boylston Street, Justin responded, “Yeah, Brian’s at meetings all day, I won’t even get to see him until tonight, and then he’ll probably want to go over the campaigns he’s going to set up. That’s why I really appreciate this, Christie, showing me around.” They walked to the sidewalk at Arlington; the Garden was on one side, in full bloom this beautiful summer day, and the Common on the other, stretching its grassy length up toward Beacon Hill. On the lawns, children played, dogs ran, and an ultimate frisbee game was going on across the field that moved toward the top of the hill crested by the State House across the street from the Common.
Christie took the hint. “No problem, this is fun for me, too. You know how it is, if you live in a city, you never really see it. I’ve never seen the manuscript collection at Harvard, and had to figure out how to get permission to get in. So I learned something, too.”
Justin grinned back at her. Christie seemed happier; she was a lot more relaxed than she had been in Pittsburgh. “Too close to home,” was all she had said when he asked her, months ago, why she was transferring. He didn’t push after that; he got it.
“So, where we going?”
“North end, first, I thought you’d like to see some of the old buildings and shit. But, most importantly…” she took a dramatic pause, drawing Justin’s eye from the tanned, shirtless guy with the killer pecs in the frisbee game on their left, “Mike’s Pastries! Best confectioner on the eastern seaboard.” She smiled; Justin’s appetite was infamous.
“Oh, I love you.”
“Yes, you do.”
They walked up the path that brought them to the left, up the hill, moving to the State House. Justin watched its huge gold dome looming at the end of their walk. They mounted a flight of stairs that led them off the Common and onto Beacon Street, and…
Crowds, huge crowd, yelling, voices, cars honking, street blocked off. A man with a microphone on the steps to the capital addressing the crowd in a tinny voice that echoed off the surrounding buildings, police on horseback, at the top of the intersection at the corner of Beacon and Park, the main entrance to the capitol, now permanently closed due to security precautions. Still, this is where the protests took place, even if the legislators now entered and exited through the metal detectors at the sides and the back of the building. Justin groaned. He still hated crowds; getting through was going to be a bitch.
“It’s okay, we’ll just go up Joy Street… Ohhhh, right….” Christie glanced over at her companion. “You might actually be interested in this.” But she had stopped about a block from the protest, so the next move was Justin’s.
He peered forward, reading the signs. There was a small group of people on their knees on the sidewalk, praying. Others carried boards reading, “Gay marriage is an abomination of God!” Others carried placards that read, “Love is love!” and “God and the Courts - Justice!”
Now he remembered, Lindsey and Mel had been talking about this, making their official marriage actually legal, in Massachusetts. But Justin had been so caught up in his own life that he hadn’t really been following the news. “The gay marriage thing, huh? Why the protest now?”
Christie shook her head. “Geez, Justin, I’m not gay and even I know this one.”
“I live in Pittsburgh. You’re in the capitol of what these good people,” he gestured to a lady kneeling on the cement in a dress that looked from out of the pioneering days, her hands so tightly clasped together the knuckles were white, thin, bloodless lips moving soundlessly “would call Satan’s heartland.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” Christie grinned at him. She hated Pittsburgh, no more shit from her. Justin had learned a thing or two from the master about pushing the right buttons in people to steer them toward, and away, from whatever you wanted of them. It wasn’t manipulation, really, Justin thought - still, the power was gratifying. Especially when Brian let Justin use those tricks on him. Course, he always made clear he knew exactly what Justin was up to. Christie continued, “Today’s the day! The courts didn’t block it, and until the Supreme Court gets the argument, IF they agree to hear it - and the Massachusetts supreme courts wouldn’t - gay couples can be legally married. And apparently they’re doing so.”
“Holy shit.” Justin responded. The wheels were turning. He tried to stop them, he really did, but there they were. He watched for another minute. A woman was going head-to-head with a man in a really bad suit (wouldn’t Brian shudder at that?), screaming. Chanting broke out on both sides, as each group sought to out-shout the other. A woman on the far side of the street was screaming unintelligibly, her voice scratched beyond recognition of actual words. Justin had no idea which side she was on. The anger and hatred from the crowd in front of him was palpable; it was too much. Christie glanced across Beacon, to the side street that skirted the capitol. “Let’s go around, huh?” Justin nodded gratefully.
“So, how did meetings go?” Almost midnight, back in room 603. They were to leave early the next morning, on a 7am flight out of Logan. That meant they had to be up before five. Brian had gotten back to the hotel only an hour before. He didn’t say a word, just grabbed Justin in one of those soul-destroying kisses, picked him up and dumped him on the bed, not even breaking stride before his full weight descended.
“Fine,” Brian answered, dragging on his cigarette. He was playing with Justin’s left nipple, considering his next move. Sleep would probably be best, but both men knew it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Brian needed a shower; the shower in their room wasn’t anywhere nice as the one in the loft, but it would do… “How was your day, dear?” Brian mocked, handing Justin the cigarette.
Justin shook his head. Usually, he would answer with as terse a reply as he had just gotten. He was used to Brian, but this still bugged him. He *was* interested in what Brian got up to without him - okay, not everything, but things like his work, yeah. He didn’t ask to simulate couple-dom, he asked because he really was interested, and it annoyed him that all he got was a mocking reply, as if he didn’t count enough to be given a straight (okay, bad choice of word) answer. So he would usually just shoot back an annoyed answer, knowing that it didn’t bother Brian anywhere near as much as it annoyed him. And besides, he usually ended up telling Brian what he’d been up to anyway.
That was boring, he decided suddenly. Took too much energy. He didn’t realize that Brian’s hand had stilled, and he was looking down at the top of the blonde head, eyebrows raised. Justin was an open book most of the time; any change in his usual responses and patterns caught Brian’s attention. He knew Justin was so caught up in whatever he was thinking that he hadn’t caught on to Brian’s sudden stillness. Damn, it was so easy to forget how much Justin still had to learn; he thought he’d taught him to pay closer attention to what was going on around him, even if his own thoughts were the solution to world war. He should pay closer attention, Brian thought, especially if what is going on around him is me.
Justin looked up, considering. His face reflected not the tension that Brian had expected from the asshole response he’d just issued (so he was tired, Justin needed to take care of his own feelings sometimes, he’d deal with it, he always did), but there was in the younger man’s face a considering levelness that made Brian uneasy. Brian raised an eyebrow. His breathing stilled. Justin noticed that, and smiled.
“Actually, I had a very interesting day,” Justin replied. “It started out when we walked to the North end by way of the capitol building…”
Oh, shit, Brian knew exactly what was coming…
“…where gay couples are getting married. Yup, getting married in Massachusetts. It’s officially legal here, as of today.”
Brian looked down at his young lover, who was openly smiling at him. Damn, if he couldn’t read this one. A year ago, yeah, Justin had worn his heart on his sleeve and he wanted Brian, he wanted to lock him down and lock him in. Now… Justin was going through a fascinating readjustment in his attitude, and it wasn’t all Brian’s doing. He was more secure in his place in the world. And not just his place in Brian’s world; now, Brian had a place in Justin’s world. Much, much better, for both of them. But now Justin had a place to retreat to inside himself, and while Brian preferred this because there wasn’t that pressure to keep the boy happy all the time (as if he could ever do that anyway), still, it eroded his control. He was more comfortable with the status quo, definitely, more than he ever thought he would be, not that he thought he’d ever be in a rel… an association with another man, someone he could respect enough to form this kind of rel… assoc… oh, fuck, okay, *relationship* with, but still.
“And.” Brian prompted, knowing he should just wait, but also recognizing that somehow Justin had managed to control the trajectory of this little interplay. Brian vowed as soon as this was over to fuck him senseless, or maybe just fuck himself senseless to avoid thinking about why he was so willing, enjoying actually, following along on this little play. Words, words, words. Damnation, who’d have thought talking could make him so horny? When that talking was about something besides sex?
“And nothing. I just thought it was interesting. People were really angry. We cut around the capitol, avoided the whole mess.”
“Probably for the best.”
“You think so?” Now Justin reached up, ran his thumb along his lover’s lower lip. Brian’s tongue wrapped itself around, drew Justin’s thumb into his mouth. He sucked on it. Justin shivered.
“Yeah, especially with, you know, your history, that sort of thing could only cause problems.” Brian’s words were muffled. Justin’s touch and talking did not mix on his tongue.
Justin withdrew his hand, dropped it onto Brian’s chest, lifted his body so he was on his forearms, looking down at Brian’s face. He placed his leg over Brian’s, his knee bent, so that the top of his thigh barely brushed Brian’s cock, which responded immediately. “Seriously.”
Brian chuckled. “Y’ain’t playing fair, m’dear.”
“Sure I am. You taught me well, Master Kinney.”
“I didn’t teach you this one.”
“You taught me this…” Justin’s leg moved fluidly, slowly, a bare couple of inches down, so that the fine hairs on his leg brushed against the tip of Brian’s suddenly rock-hard dick. Brian’s gasp shot through in the quiet room. “Justin…” He reached for the face above him, but Justin grabbed his wrists and placed them over his head, pinned against the pillow. He continued to torture Brian’s lower body with the feather light touches, promising everything and delivering nothing. “Seriously. Brian.”
“Seriously. What.” This was just cruel; Brian could feel a drop of moisture run down onto his groin from the tip of his dick, which throbbed all on its own, straining for the tiny bit of contact Justin was allowing him. The hard grip above contrasted with the gentle caress below. Fuck, he was being worked, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered but that touch. When he was released, Brian vowed, he would really fuck the sense right out of this kid, the manipulative little… He laughed.
“What?” Justin asked, continuing to torment. He wasn’t letting Brian off just because he wasn’t responding normally, whatever normal was for him. Justin knew this tactic. When the game’s going against you, change the direction. No, uh uh. He continued his movements.
Brian stopped laughing, strained upward, touching nothing. Then, the light touch of thigh, withdrawn. The almost painful throb in response. “You have learned well, Master Taylor.”
Justin smiled, leaned in, kissed Brian’s mouth, but pulled back just before the contact got too involved. His lips tingled, and he was tempted to lean in again, but not yet, not yet.
“Seriously.” We’re back at that.
“You want to get married?” Brian asked. When all else fails, go direct.
Justin’s eyes widened; that was definitely unexpected. “I don’t know. I think it’s interesting to actually have the option.”
Brian knew that answer was not part of the game; Justin’s tone was serious and considering. Brian flexed his wrists, but they remained trapped in the grip above him. “Can we talk about this later?”
“No way.” That smile, holy shit, it did him in.
“You’re being unbelievably cruel.” Brian strained his hips upward, but Justin pulled back so that Brian’s cock just brushed his. Justin was definitely as ready for this as he was.
“So, answer the question.”
“Are you asking me to marry you?”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding.”
“Maybe I’m not.”
Justin looked down, considering that. Ha! Brian thought. Play with me, will you. He took advantage of Justin’s distraction, and shifted his hips up again, getting a long, satisfying contact with a hard thigh, groaning at the contact, but relieving the ache for just a moment. It would come back, worse, in just a moment, yup, there it was. “Cruel boy,” he whispered.
Justin had felt the contact as Brian rubbed his dick right between his balls. He felt that, right down to his toes. “Yeah, you’re right, too cruel,” he answered, surprising Brian once again. Justin let go of his wrists and kissing his lover deeply. Brian strained upward into the kiss, and rolled Justin onto his back, reaching for the supplies on the side table in the same movement. No more talking.
“You smoke too much,” Justin reprimanded as they lay back against the pillows, satisfied. Brian handed him the cigarette. Justin took a drag. “You shouldn’t encourage me.” He handed the cigarette back.
“You’ve got a brain of your own, tell me no.”
“I do sometimes.” They were quiet for a moment, Justin drifted with the echoes of sex moving through his body like a warm wind, settling slowly. “Seriously.”
Brian sighed. Damnation, the boy liked to talk. And why did he have to come to Boston today, of all days? And why did he have to take Justin with him? At the time, he had reasoned, he knew that the meetings would be long, and he knew there was nothing more he liked to do after 15 hour days than unwind. And Justin was his favorite means of unwinding. And he’d been following the news. So what had he done? Released Justin on his own in the city where the gay marriage thing was at the top of the news, right on the streets?
Why did all this not bother him more?
He took a deep breath, and put out the cigarette in the ashtray on the table his side of the bed. When he turned back, Justin had propped himself up on an elbow, and was looking at him strangely. “You can just say no, you’re not interested. You know that’s okay with me.”
“Yeah, I know.” But he didn’t continue right away.
Justin laughed, nervous now. “Are you going to tell me what you’re thinking?”
Brian was glad Justin was nervous, payback for tormenting him earlier. But he suddenly didn’t want to punish him, no matter how he’d told himself while Justin had him pinned down. Good God, where was this coming from? This desire to be serious, to not bullshit. But there it was. “I’m thinking about how to explain this,” he answered. Justin became very still, watching. He knew when to shut up. “Why would you want to get married, Justin?”
Now it was Justin’s turn to consider for a moment. Finally, he said, “Because you’re generous, even when you have nothing to be generous with. You take care of people, and I want to take care of you, even though you hate that, I want you to know there’s some kind of rule in whatever we have that’s us, telling you that you have to let me, whether you want to or not. I think we both need something we feel that no one can take away, that’s protected by more than just us. I mean, I know that it’s ours and no one can destroy what we have, only we can do that, but I want it to reach into the world outside of us. I want other people to know that this is serious.” That I’m not just some twink, that you’re not just my sugar daddy. He didn’t say that, because he knew that was his reason, and Brian could care less. But it was still true.
“I asked why you’d want to get married, and you assume I meant to me.” One last lame attempt to shunt this aside.
“Don’t be an ass.”
“You like me when I play the ass.”
“Ohhhh… no, don’t distract me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Yeah, okay, fine, so shut up and give me a second.” Brian replied, giving up in his usual caustic way, not terribly graceful at not getting his way. He pinched the bridge of nose, and considered what Justin had said. He hadn’t used the “L” word. Good, because it meant nothing. Justin was defining the word in real ways that actually applied to their life, not just spouting rhetorical nonsense. “You know we don’t need anyone else telling us what we have. It’s either there or it’s not. It’s less messy without documents that need to be undone when it comes apart.”
“I don’t think we’re going to.”
I don’t either, Brian thought, and closed his eyes. Fuck. He kept his eyes closed, not thinking. He didn’t want to dwell on the words that had just gone through his head.
Justin waited. When Brian opened his eyes, Justin continued, “I don’t like the idea of marriage much either, not the reasons some people use. They get married because they want children and they need a partnership for that project. They get married because they want the house, the nice cars, all the right stuff, pre-define the lifestyle before they even start thinking about who, exactly. Because it’s what they’re supposed to do. They don’t think about the person they choose so much as all the shit that comes with a relationship. The other person’s almost beside the point. They figure out what kind of lifestyle they want, and then they figure it’s easier to have that kind of a life if someone else is helping with the bills, they profile for whoever fits the bill, and then they lie that this person is who they really want and stay miserable for the rest of their lives because it’s easier and safer to be miserable and married than to look for a real love who will really tear your heart out.” Justin paused, smiled, swatted Brian’s chest, but then got serious again. “Or everyone else expects them to get married, so it’s easier to just give in to social pressure, and become part of the herd. So they find whoever suits the position of marriage partner, and the person himself, or herself, doesn’t matter. Do you think any of that’s us?”
“No.” The answer was quiet, succinct. Brian waited, watching.
“I choose you, Brian Kinney, because you’re you, I always have, rich or poor, sickness or health, marriage or not. Doesn’t matter, so long as you’re there. I just think that it’s interesting that the option is there now, is all,” Justin finished. “Do you still doubt how I feel about you?”
Brian shook his head. He opened his mouth, closed it, grabbed another cigarette.
“Don’t, please,” Justin asked, nodding at the pack Brian had in his hand. “I really need you to respond to this. Seriously.”
Brian put the cigarettes back down. Damn, he really needed one. He ran a hand through his hair, and sat up straighter, gesturing Justin to slide in against him, a request eagerly complied with. “Look,” Brian started, “I really don’t think it’s necessary. Marriage, I mean. You’re already on my insurance, in my will…”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really, don’t get any ideas, it’s all debt. But you’re taken care of.” He paused, then continued, carefully. “Anyway, okay, I get what you’re saying, that’s kind of… well, all me taking care of you. And,” he hurried to add as Justin raised his head from his shoulder, “and that doesn’t really reflect where we are, or where we’re headed. I rely on you, in my business, in my life. As my partner. In many more ways than one.” Brian took a deep breath, wondering if he should talk about this. His superstitions were weird; he denied the concept of chance or fate so forcefully that the superstitions he actually had jumped out at him as if they were located somewhere besides in his own head. He didn’t like to talk about these things, as if bringing them into words, into the air outside of his heart, into the real world where Justin wanted them to bring them, that it would jinx the future he saw through the haze, beginning to form into a future he would never have believed could exist, even a year ago. Now he did, and he was unsure how solid that hazy future really was. He continued, “I know this is more than just all me. And we seem to be headed toward equal positions with each other.” He paused, looked hard into Justin’s face, made sure Justin was following this, and not off somewhere else in his head. He did that, sometimes. Not now, though. Good. “But we’re not quite there yet.”
“The age thing, again.” Justin’s voice contained the bitterness he felt whenever that issue came up. It belittled the relationship they did have; he really hated the subject.
“No, don’t get upset, that’s not it exactly,” Brian assured him, stroking his back. “Not exactly. It’s just I’ve had a few more years to position myself in a secure place, at least financially, and definitely socially. Even the social thing is changing, and we both know the emotional thing is changing. So the age issue isn’t it at all. You always say, and you’re right, in some ways we’re in the same place. But because it’s still a shifting ground… I just want to get where I think we’re going before we have this conversation. And I just don’t think we’re there yet.”
“But we will be.”
“We’ll see.”
“And then we can have this conversation?”
“And then we can have this conversation.”
“Brian?”
“Yeah?”
Pause. Then, “Well, you know how I feel about you.”
Brian hesitated, then answered, “Yeah, I do. You know how I feel about you, too.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Then get some sleep.”
“So this conversation. Later?”
“Later.”
“Promise?”
“Shut up and sleep.”