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Allie
Disclaimer: All things QAF belong to CowLip. I take
liberties but they own them, I don’t.
Characters: All Queer As Folk characters
Pairing: Brian and Justin
Warning: Entire Thing will be NC-17. Spoilers for
like all Five Seasons.
XII - Heat
"Some people change their ways
when they see the light; others when they feel the heat"
~ Caroline Schoeder ~
June 11, 2019 1:16am
Justin's
POV
Brian is in the
office down the hall, and I'm in the kitchen cleaning because I can't think of
anything else to do. I have to do something to keep my hands busy. I thought
about going to my studio but that's the last place I want to be right now.
After we showed Gus his studio, which he loved, we came back to the loft,
ordered some pizza, and watched some really old movie on TV. Gus went to his
room about nine o'clock and when I went to check on him an hour later he was
sound asleep in his bed. I wasn't surprised. He looked exhausted from the
moment he got off the plane and I know that, despite sleeping issues, an attack
can pretty much wipe a person out.
I feel restless.
I feel…like I'm on edge without any reason to be. Maybe it's from seeing Gus
today, pressed up against the wall panicking, looking scared, and just so
fucking alone. It felt too familiar, too raw, too fucking real. I keep telling
myself that this isn't about me, it's about Gus, it's about helping Gus, and
that it was eighteen years ago and it shouldn't matter anymore. It shouldn't
bother me. I shouldn't even be thinking about it. But it does, and I do.
I can feel the tightness in the fingers of my right hand as I scrub the sink. I
ignore it. It's all in my head. Mind over matter. If I tell myself it's nothing
it will just go away. I try. It doesn't work. My fingers curl around the rag
involuntarily. It fucking hurts. I bite my lip to keep
from screaming. I don't want to admit it, but the older I get the more my hand
acts up. God forbid Brian find that out. Like he needs another thing to worry
about.
I remove the rag from my fingers with my left hand and shake out my right one.
Not like that helps, although sometimes it does. It's nothing, I tell myself.
It's all in my mind…but I feel the pain clenching my fingers in a vice grip. I
try to ignore it. Stop making it about you, it's not, I chastise myself. It's
just the stress from today, the airport, fighting with Brian, thinking about
how I'm going to tell Grady I'm adding another artist to the show, plus the
whole thing with Gus. It's all just stress. That's all.
I turn on the water faucet and rinse out the sink. I think about cleaning it
again, but five times seems a little excessive. Turning off the faucet, I ring
out the rag and start wiping down the countertops. Maybe I should clean out the
refrigerator. I haven't done that in a while. It probably needs it. I fold the
rag into a square and place it on the sink next to the dish soap. Yeah, the
refrigerator definitely needs to be cleaned out.
***************************************
June 11, 2019 1:20am
Brian's
POV
He doesn't know
I'm watching but I am. It takes everything I have not to walk in there when I
see him shaking out his hand. He must have wiped down every surface in the
kitchen at least a dozen times. It's all a little too fucking familiar. When I
see him heading towards the refrigerator I decide it's time to make my presence
known.
"Stop."
I tell him.
He jumps a little at the sound of my voice. "I didn't hear you come
in."
I lean against the counter crossing my arms. "I know." His right hand
is clutching the refrigerator handle as he stares into the stainless steel
surface, as if it holds the answers to all of life's problems. "Come
here." I tell him.
He doesn't move, just shakes his head no. I go to him, wrapping my arms around
his waist, pulling him to my bare chest. He's shaking.
"I'm fine." He mumbles.
I hate it when he lies. "No, you're not."
"It's just been a long day." I agree. It's been an incredibly long,
incredibly tedious day.
I kiss his neck as I run my hand up his side, over his arm, and pry his fingers
from the refrigerator handle. He moans a little when I do it. I feel this
stiffness in his fingers. Turning him around, I begin to massage his hand,
pressing my thumbs along his palm, up each of his fingers, trying to work out
the cramp that has seized them. I look up and see him grimacing so I stop.
"That hurt?"
He nods, dropping his chin to his chest. "Yeah, but keep doing it." I
continue with the massage, working each digit until I feel him relaxing to my
ministrations. "It's nothing," he mumbles.
I reach up and tilt his head until his eyes meet mine. "It's not
nothing." He leans into my hand as I stroke his cheek. "You need to
take a Flexeril."
He pulls away from me and moves toward the sink shaking his head. "I'm
fine. It's just stress."
I watch him closely and choose my words carefully. "Would you let me get
away without taking my medicine?"
"I didn't even paint today." He says instead of answering me.
"No." I say slowly. "But you were sketching before we went to
the airport and you've been in here cleaning the kitchen for over an
hour." I walk over to the sink and still his hands. "Stop it."
He looks up at me. His eyes are deep blue tonight. "It's just…seeing Gus
like that today…"
I pull him to me, wrapping my arms around his waist. His hands are wet and cold
when they touch the skin of my lower back. Kissing his temple I whisper,
"I know."
I do know. I know exactly what he means. Seeing Gus like that made me remember
seeing Justin like that. It made eighteen years just disappear, fade away, as
if all this time had never transpired. The only difference is that it isn't
Justin this time, and we aren't flying blind trying to figure out what the fuck
to do. We've been there, worked it out, and made it through. It doesn't mean
we've forgotten though. Knowing what to expect and how to handle it doesn't
make it any easier to deal with, because despite our best intentions it
transports us both back to a time we'd rather forget.
His hands stroke my back, giving me chills as the cool air
dries the wetness. "I don't want Gus to think he can't tell us when
something's wrong." He pulls back from me so he can look me in the eyes.
"I don't want him to have to hide anything because he's afraid I'm gonna
freak out."
"Are you afraid you're going to freak out?"
He looks away from me. "I don't know. I just…today…it just…" He looks
up at me. "It was like being back there, you know?" Yeah, I do know.
I caress his face and he leans into my touch.
"I'm sorry about earlier."
"I overreacted." I did.
He shakes his head and kisses the palm of my hand. "No, you didn't."
He looks up at me and I know what he's going to say and I let him because I
need to hear it. Sometimes I think he knows when I do. "I love you."
I stroke his cheek before cupping the back of his neck to bring his lips to
mine. It's a soft kiss that says I love you too, because even now, even after
all this time, those three words are sometimes still too hard for me to
vocalize.
I suck his bottom lip into my mouth as I move the hand that's not in his hair
under his shirt. A soft moan escapes his lips as my fingers stroke his side.
Releasing his lip, I press my forehead to his. "Let's go to bed."
"Okay."
I take his left hand in mine, leading him out of the kitchen, turning the light
off on the way. We stop by Gus' room. He's still asleep which is good because
he looked fucking exhausted. I close his door and we continue down the hall to
our bedroom. We enter the room, closing the door behind us, which we wouldn't
normally do, but now that Gus is here we really have no choice. Justin lets go
of my hand and moves around to his side of the bed as I move around to mine. We
discard our clothes, turn off the bedside lamps, and meet under the 1500 count
sheets.
I pull him to me until his body is covering mine. My hands stroke his back
while his hands caress my face. He kisses my chin and I tilt my head back so he
can kiss my neck. God it feels good, his kisses, his hands, his body. He slides
down my body, his lips leaving wet marks as he goes. He's disappearing under
the sheets. I don't like that so I toss them off of us. The cold air clashes
with our heated bodies. His mouth never stops moving. He pauses to swirl his
tongue around my navel before finally, finally sliding those warm lips over the
head of my cock. I arch my back and push my fingers into his hair. He sucks
gently on the head of my cock, gripping the base with his left hand while his
right one cups my balls. When he runs his tongue along my slit I grip his hair
hard.
"Fuck."
I pull him up and kiss him deeply, tasting myself. I move my mouth along his
jaw line, down his neck, sucking on his earlobe. His hands are everywhere. My
hands are everywhere.
"Brian." He moans against my neck.
I bring his mouth back to mine, running my tongue over his bottom lip before
sucking on it. He loves that. I reach for the lube because I have to be inside
him now.
"Let me." He takes it from me and I watch as he coats his fingers
with it. Leaning back, he circles his hole with his fingers. I love when he
does that. It's so fucking hot. When he pushes a finger into himself he throws
back his head and gasps.
"Jesus Justin." So fucking hot.
My cock is dripping as I watch him insert another finger, stretching himself for me. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever
fucking seen. I start to stroke myself in time with the rhythm he's working his
fingers into himself. He grunts when he sees what I'm doing but I don't stop
because I can't. Removing his fingers, he pulls my hand off my cock and takes
it in his hand so he can guide it into himself. I grip his hips as he slowly
lowers himself on my cock. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He's always so fucking tight. I
arch up into him when I feel his ass on my thighs and my cock all the way
inside him. It's tight, white, heat and nothing has ever felt so fucking good.
Leaning forward, he circles one of my nipples with his tongue before sucking on
it. He places his hands flat on the mattress on either side of me, lifting himself up and then back down in one long slow stoke. Fuck.
I look up and his eyes meet mine in the city light darkness of our room.
"Just like that," I tell him.
He nods and does it again, even fucking slower. I reach for him, bringing his
mouth to mine, my tongue stroking his. His mouth is hot, his ass is hot, he's pure fucking heat. He breaks from the kiss gasping for
air. I slide my hands along his thighs as he continues to stroke me slowly with
his ass. I reach for his cock and rub my thumb over the dripping head. He gasps
and closes his eyes.
"Open your eyes," I tell him as I begin to stroke his cock.
He opens his eyes and even in this half-dark I can see how fucking blue they
are. Everything is there in his eyes. They've been dark blue all fucking day. I
want to close my eyes because the sensation of my cock in his ass, my hand on
his cock, and just fucking watching him are almost too much, but I don't. He
leans forward, pressing his chest to mine, forcing me to release his cock. He
never stops moving. His cock rubs across my stomach leaving a slick trail of
pre-come. I hold his face between my hands, just watching him.
"Brian." He wants to close his eyes, I can tell.
Throwing back his head he quickens the pace. Reaching between us I grab his
cock again, stroking and squeezing it in time with the pace he's setting. We
are sweaty. Our bodies drip heat. He pushes his body up, placing his hands on
my chest. He's not playing games. He's ready. He thrusts himself down hard. I
bite my lip to keep from screaming. He does it again and I just fucking let go.
I meet each thrust, angling myself to get him off. He gets louder and louder
with each pass my cock makes over his prostate.
"Come for me Justin." I grunt.
I thrust into him once, twice and feel him explode between us. When he comes
his ass clenches around my cock and rips my orgasm right out of me.
When he collapses on top of me I wrap my arms around him. He's all fire. It's
all through me, all around me, the bright hot heat of this fucking beautiful
piece of Sunshine that melts me from the inside out every single fucking time.