P ost-505, rated R+, no spoilers beyond the episode.
****************
Justin doesn’t know what he expected, but this is not it. When he envisioned
his life after LA, which he did from time to time when he was there, he saw
tanned skin and wide smiles and felt warmth and love and something close to
contentment.
Now he’s here and this isn’t how he planned it, not at all. On paper this is
what he’s wanted, what he’s always wanted, and yet something doesn’t fit. Something
just doesn’t feel right.
**
He waits until Brian’s breathing evens out before he puts away what he’s been
working on. Once he knows Brian is asleep he feels safe moving around the loft
and acting normal, whatever normal is. He drinks a beer and checks his email.
He pulls out his new Rage drawings and looks over them carefully, shoves
them back in his portfolio only half-satisfied with the work.
The drawings and the idea for the storyline, that he fed Michael over beers
at Woody’s last night, come from a place inside of himself that he doesn’t like.
It’s the place where jealousy lives and dissatisfaction breeds.
**
He lies in bed in the careful, tentative way he does after he and Brian have
been in a fight. He doesn’t know that they’re necessarily fighting right now,
but he feels like they are all the same.
The tension is thick and Justin imagines that it makes the air harder to suck
into his lungs. He feels suffocated to the point he has to get up and pace the
floor. He finds himself by the window, squinting at the city lights below and
imagining what people are doing in other apartments, in other buildings, in
other lives.
He’s half way into telling himself a story about Stan and Dan, twin brothers
who live together and are both in love with their next door neighbor Jemma (Jemma
is tall with long, silky, wavy auburn hair and she has big, green eyes that
light up when she laughs. Jemma is way, way out of Stan and Dan’s league but
this doesn’t stop them from fighting endlessly about who is more worthy of her
love), when Brian’s voice nearly makes him come out of his skin.
“Come to bed,” Justin turns to find Brian standing, naked and bleary eyed, at
the top of the stairs.
Justin stares a long time. “No.” He turns back to the window. He isn’t ready
to sleep yet. He wants to figure out how his love triangle ends.
“Justin,” Brian’s voice is laced with warning.
“I’m fine, sleep.” Justin sounds exhausted, but he doesn’t feel that way.
At three a.m. the only sound in the loft that Justin can hear is the whir of
the refrigerator, the thump of his own heartbeat, and the unmistakable smack
of Brian’s bare feet on the hardwood as he crosses the room.
When Brian is standing three inches behind Justin he speaks again, “Quit being
a queen.”
Justin almost smiles, “Leave me the fuck alone.” There’s more humor in his voice
than anything else. He’s too tired to be mad about STDs and men with commitment
issues as deep and severe as the cracks in the earth’s crust.
“That wasn’t the fucking I had in mind,” Brian wraps an arm around Justin’s
shoulders, then he runs his fingers softly over Justin’s left nipple. He nips
at Justin’s ear and waits for Justin to relax against him. It only takes a moment,
maybe two.
They stand in silence for seconds that stretch into minutes and Justin wonders
if he could sleep standing up like this, Brian supporting his weight.
Part of him wants to stay angry, wants to battle this out and open old wounds
and play out old scenes. Part of him wants to rise above this insatiable need
to demand more, to request the one thing he said he wouldn’t ask for. He prays
to a God he claims he doesn’t believe in to make him strong enough to stay true
to his word. He told Brian a long time ago that he knew what a life with him
would and would not include. He told Brian that he understood what he could
expect and what would be expected of him.
The problem is he lied.
Brian starts to kiss his neck somewhere in between his wallowing in self pity
and his standard pep talk where he reviews the top ten reasons it is obvious
to everyone that Brian loves him.
Brian’s hands glide over his belly and beneath his underwear and caress every
inch of available skin. Brian bites his collarbone and rubs his own hard on
against Justin’s ass and whispers little nonsensical things in Justin’s ear.
And this isn’t even on the top ten list, but it’s working like a charm.
“Come to bed,” Brian’s voice is soft and nearly pleading now. Justin can’t deny
Brian much, he’s never been able to deny him this.
Justin lets Brian’s lead him across the room and up the stairs and onto the
bed. He figures tonight he’ll let Brian have this, some show of good faith,
and tomorrow he’ll worry about the unsettling feelings growing deep down inside
of him that are harder to ignore by the minute.
**
Brian is slow and easy tonight. He’s warm from sleep and smells like sheets
and midnight, which drives Justin crazy. They kiss a long time, hands roaming
and lips slick with spit and unspoken apologies.
Justin strokes Brian’s dick softly, he wonders if any signs of the syphilis
remain. If there are, he can’t find them. Brian moans into his mouth and starts
to piston his hips. Justin mutters, “Wanna fuck me?”
Brian shakes his head, “Just wanna get off.”
Justin nods, he knows Brian too well.
He slides on top of Brian and moves until he can work both of their cocks into
his fist. He licks his palm and then tells Brian to spit into his hand. Justin’s
always had a thing for mingling their body fluids.
He reaches down and starts to stroke them both, creating a tight channel for
them to move through, squeezing their dicks together as they go. Brian tries
to keep his head up, watching what’s happening between their bodies, but he
ends up groaning and falling back into the pillow.
Justin smiles, he knows Brian too well.
In a few more strokes Justin can see Brian’s stomach tense, feel his balls rise
up, hear his breath hitch. He closes his own eyes, pulls from a file of a million
jerk off memories and gets himself to the edge so they can finish this. He wants
to laugh because the first thing he thinks about is when they fooled around
in the kitchen a few days ago and he can almost smell the burnt popcorn that
resulted. Brian didn’t stop complaining for hours about the smell, but of course
it was his own fault.
Don’t suck my dick while I’m in the middle of making snacks. Justin had
smoked too much weed and laughed about it all night.
They come together quietly. Justin cleans them up and kisses Brian lightly as
he rolls away. Brian tries to creep closer to Justin’s warm body without being
obvious, but Justin moves further away.
It isn’t that he doesn’t love Brian, because that isn’t the problem at all.
It’s just that this isn’t quite the life he had in mind, and that is becoming
a problem.
As he tries to fall asleep all he can think about is the burning popcorn. He
wonders if the reason Brian didn’t fuck him that night was because he’d noticed
the sore on the tip of his dick and thought better of it. He wonders what the
next test he’ll have to take at the clinic will be for.
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