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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.
XV - What HE Needs
"Promise me you'll always
remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and
smarter than you think."
~ A. A. Milne ~
June 14, 2019 3:23am
Brian's
POV
I hear him gasp. My eyes snap open just as he bolts upright
in bed. His breathing is fast and shallow. "Hey." I reach out for
him but he jerks away from me. I knew better than to do that, but it's three
in the morning and I forgot. I sit up in bed watching as he leans forward, pressing
his head to his covered knees. The lights from the city shine on his bare back
that is glistening with sweat. I reach behind me, pulling the headboard up as
I lean back. I know all I can do is watch and wait.
He shakes his head back and forth. "Fuck, Brian." He laughs but it's
unpleasant. "Fuck." His hands clasp behind his head as he presses
himself down harder on his knees.
I feel powerless, but then again this has always made me feel powerless. It's
been a long time. In fact, I can't even remember the last time he woke up in
a cold sweat from a nightmare. It doesn't take much deduction on my part to
know why he had one tonight. He's been under a lot of stress the last couple
of days. This thing with Gus, Christ, it's affecting him more than either of
us thought it would. He had that shit with Grady and his hand has been giving
him problems. He told me he had an anger outburst when his hand cramped and
it fucked up the painting he was working on at the time.
"I haven't felt that angry in a really long time," He
told me.
I watch as he slowly uncurls himself and sits up straight. He takes a deep breath
and finally turns to me. I raise an eyebrow and he shakes his head as he crawls
over to me until he is lying as close as he can without being on top of me.
He lays his head against my thigh and drapes his arm across my legs. My hand
automatically starts stroking his hair. We lay like that for a while until he
says, "I haven't had one of those in a long time."
I curl a lock of his hair around my finger. "Yeah."
He runs his hand over my thigh. "I don't even remember it. It was just
this feeling, you know?" His hand stills on my leg. "It's like seeing
Gus like that…it's like being back there and-" He takes a deep breath.
"I'm projecting and I fucking hate that."
"It's just been a stressful week." I tell him.
He sits up and looks at me. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"You know what." He throws back the covers and moves to his side of
the bed.
"I really don't." I can feel the anger coming off of him in waves.
"Don't make excuses for me." He stands up and pulls on a pair of sweats.
"Where are you going?" I ask him as he starts walking to the door.
"Kitchen," he throws out over his shoulder as he leaves the room,
closing the door behind him.
I stare at the door trying to figure what the fuck just happened. I reach for
a cigarette and light it. This shit is fucking with his head. Gus has only been
here for four days and has had two panic attacks, both of which Justin witnessed.
I'm not stupid. I know he sees and feels the same things I do. Gus told me the
panic attack he had at the gallery was pretty bad, but that Justin was there.
I know how Justin works. After eighteen years it would be impossible not to
know almost everything he thinks, feels, wants, or needs. I know that when he
saw Gus that day that he saw himself. I know he saw what I would see everyday
when I came home from work. I know he felt those memories crawling under his
skin, itching him from the inside out. Yes, he's projecting, but I don't see
how he couldn't. It's so fucking similar except this time he's riding on my
side of the fence.
The truth is that Justin's attacks, his nightmares, his overall experience was
much worse. Yes, Gus is hurting and he's a mess, but it's only a sample of where
Justin has been. I can see the similarities but I can feel the differences.
Gus doesn't carry around inside him a cold rage. Gus carries around a deep fucking
loss, a hurt so palpable that I can almost taste his loneliness. On the very
basic level of things Gus isn't angry. He's fucking sad. Gus isn't going to
start running around wearing pink and toting a fucking gun seeking revenge on
the person who ran into him. At least he’d better fucking not. It's not like
he can anyway, since that bastard is in prison for vehicular manslaughter.
I stub out my cigarette as I get out of bed. I reach for the pair of jeans I
discarded earlier and pull them on. I know what he's doing. I know it like I
know him. This is one of the reasons why I told him we should have a small studio
for him at the loft. We have an extra bedroom for guests that we hardly use.
When he gets like this, and it's usually only when he's stressed out, he gets
restless. He could walk to his studio but I know he won't, not at this time
of day.
I walk out of the bedroom and down the hall. I can smell the cleaning solution
already. I enter the kitchen and find exactly what I expected. He's leaning
over the sink blowing his hair out of his face as he scrubs it clean. The fucker
is already clean.
"Justin." He doesn't even look up at me. I walk over to him grab him
by the shoulder and turn him around. "Stop this." I move my hands
over his shoulders and up his neck until I'm cupping his face. "Just stop."
He tries to pull back but I hold him in place. The wet rag in his hands drips
water on the floor between us. "I feel…" He looks away from me. "It's…"
He sighs and I pull him to me, feeling the cold rag on my back when he wraps
his arms around my waist. "It seems so ridiculous doesn't it?"
I stroke his hair with my right hand. "It's not."
"It's not like I forgot. It's not like it's ever really gone." He
pulls away from me and looks me in the eyes. "What if I can't do this,
Brian?"
"Do what?"
"Help Gus. What if it just gets to be too fucking much?"
I take the rag from his hand and toss it in the sink. I take his left hand in
mine, lacing our fingers together and lead him out of the kitchen and into the
living room. I sit down on the couch, and in a move that's old but familiar
he lays down with his head in my lap. I stroke his hair and try to think of
what I can say to tell him how strong he is. That he can help Gus because he's
been there, and that what he is feeling now is just residual effects from a
time better forgotten. I want to tell him anything and everything I can to ease
his worry, but like always the words get lodged in my throat.
He sighs. "I'm just overreacting." He wraps his arms around my legs.
"I know that…it seems shitty to say but from what I've seen so far he has
a milder case, as far as panic attacks go." He sits up and looks at me.
"He's not angry." I watch him watching me. "You already knew
that." It's not a question.
"He's scared and he's-
"Lonely." I nod. He moves closer to me and caresses my cheek. "He
doesn't have what I had." I kiss the palm of his hand.
"No." I tell him. "But he has us."
I cup the back of his neck and pull his mouth to mine, sweeping my tongue over
his bottom lip before sucking it into my mouth. As he straddles my lap I kiss
him full on, pushing my tongue into his mouth. His arms drape over my shoulders
as his hands weave into my hair. I kiss his cheek, his jaw, that spot behind
his ear.
I move forward on the couch and cup his ass with both of my hands. "Wrap
your legs around me," I tell him.
When he does I stand up. He laughs into my neck. "I can walk."
I head towards the bedroom, my hands gripping his ass. "I know you can."
I lean him back against the wall and kiss him again, deeper, hungrier, because
I want to be in him right now. Without taking my lips from him I walk into the
bedroom, kicking the door closed behind us.
When I approach the bed he pulls his mouth from mine. "Don't you dare toss
me on the bed," he mumbles into my neck. I laugh and toss him to the middle
of the bed. He bounces a few times and starts laughing. "Asshole."
Sometimes he's way too easy.
I crawl on the bed, over him, kissing my way up his body until my mouth is back
on his. His hands grip my hair as his tongue pushes deeper into my mouth. I
press my body down on his, my hands stroking his arms, his face, any part they
can reach. We're in the middle of the kiss when I feel the change in him. His
kiss gets softer, his hands stroke my back in a light caress, his body relaxes
into the bed, and I know exactly what he wants.
I places kisses all over his face, changing my tempo to suit his rhythm. "Tell
me." I whisper in his ear. If he wants it like this I want to hear it.
I rest my forehead on his, our lips so close that every breath he exhales is
the breath I inhale.
His hands cup my face and he pushes me back so he can look into my eyes. I wait.
"I want it slow." He pecks me on the lips. "Make it last."
I nod and kiss him on the lips. My tongue glides into his mouth savoring the
taste. I move my body off of his. Breaking our kiss, I move him onto his side,
pressing my chest to his back and moving my right arm under his head. I reach
for the lube and coat my cock with it. I toss the lube to the floor and use
my left hand to position the head of my cock at his hole. I kiss his shoulder
and neck as I guide myself in. He rolls his head back on my arm and I kiss him.
I slide my hand up his leg, over his side, and around to his stomach. I press
slowly into him. It's so fucking hot and smooth. It's everything.
"Brian." My name flows off his tongue in a whispered moan. I'm all
the way inside him. I know what he wants. I hold myself still inside him as
I run my hand up his side and down his arm until my fingers weave between his
and curl into his palm. When his fingers squeeze down on mine, I begin to move
my hips. My strokes are long, deep, slow, and smooth. I kiss is neck, his shoulder,
tasting every part of him my lips can reach. I breathe in his scent that is
a mixture of everything he is and the part of me that he carries around with
him.
I give him what he needs right now. He's feeling too emotional. It flows through
his body with every beat of his heart. When he leans his head back I taste the
salt of his tears. I move, kiss, and caress him in every way I know he likes.
My body caresses him saying, "I'm here. It's okay. I understand."
Each stroke saying, "I love you. I love you. I love you."
I soak up every single ounce of love he has for me and return it to him
tenfold.
Afterward, I stay inside him because I know he's not ready to break the connection.
I hold him close to me, planting soft lazy kisses on his neck. I feel him relax
against me as his breathing gets deeper. I press my lips to his ear and whisper
to him, "You can do it Justin." He doesn't ask what I'm talking about
because he knows. He can help Gus, we both can, and we both will.