Justin was actually relieved for the distraction. Even if it was only temporary. Once Brian shot down Justin’s throat and regained his composure, the question came up again. “So, Justin…” Brian said as Justin lay with his head on Brian’s stomach.
“Hmm?” Justin asked lazily. He was absentmindedly drawing little circles around Brian’s scar then trailing his finger lightly down between his legs and around his balls before sliding them back up around the scar again.
Brian shoo’d his hand away, unable to comprehend why Justin was constantly drawing attention to his imperfections. Justin settled the offending hand on Brian’s lower abdomen, pulling softly on the hairs that trailed from his navel to his dick. It seemed as if Justin’s hands needed to be in constant motion, and annoying as his playing was at times, it was a comfortable annoyance that Brian seemed to cherish these days.
“You never answered my question. Drawers. Moving in. Remember?”
Justin lifted his head, resting his chin comfortably on Brian’s hip and looked him in the eye. “Yes. I want to,” he answered with a slight smile.
There was a ‘but’ looming in the air and he wasn’t quite sure how or where to start. Normally it was no big deal. He always told Brian everything that was great in his life and the news he had to share, which seemed to be whirling in constant motion within his head was definitely great. More than great. And he was very happy about it. But he was also very happy about Brian asking him to move in. There just had to be a way that he could do both without Brian thinking he was going to leave him, just like Brian had predicted he would several months ago. But this wasn’t Justin leaving Brian… this was Justin leaving the Pitts. For six to eight months. That’s all. It wasn’t the end of the world. Right? But it sure felt like it.
Brian’s eyebrows furrowed for just a quick second. He sensed the ‘but’ and knew something was up. “What?” he asked.
“Huh?” Justin asked in return, still thinking about the twisted irony of it all and how to tell Brian. It wasn’t that bad of a situation but his aloofness gave Brian the impression that it was.
In his regular self-sacrificing way, Brian decided to make things easier for Justin. He lifted up and pushed Justin off him. “It’s okay. I get it,” he said, struggling to get off the bed.
“No, you don’t get it,” Justin snapped back as he moved out of the way so Brian could get up.
“I said it’s okay.” Brian stood and made his way to the bathroom. Justin followed. Leaning against the doorframe he watched Brian untie the sling and take it off ever so slowly, the obviously painful process accompanied by only one wince. Justin had already unbuttoned Brian’s shirt in order to kiss his chest and stomach so all the man had to do was remove it. He peeled it off his good shoulder and jerked his arm free.
Justin walked over and took the shirt in his hands, wanting to assist him with the task of getting it off his immobile arm. Brian pulled away. “I can do it.”
Justin smiled and shook his head. “I know you can. But I’m the one who took the rest of your clothes off while I was kissing you so it’s only right that I finish the job that I started... see it through to the end.”
Brian relented and let Justin pull his shirt off his injured shoulder and down his still arm. He stared at Justin’s face. There was truth in his words and he knew Justin was leading up to something. “What did you start that you have to see through to the end? Me? I don’t want you here out of some obligation to a commitment that was only made half-heartedly.” He opened the shower door and turned on the water.
Justin chuckled. “You’re not an obligation. And that commitment wasn’t half-heartedly made, asshole. I meant it, just like I know you did. Since when does Brian Kinney do self-pity?”
Brian glanced at him with that incredulous look then stepped into the shower. Once his entire body was wet, he picked up the soap, looked at it then held it out to Justin. “I can do this myself, but it would be much more proficient if you did it for me. Not to mention quicker. And quite possibly hotter.”
Justin smiled, stepped into the steamy enclosure and took the soap from Brian’s hand. He twirled it around in his fingers then began washing Brian’s body, ever mindful of his arm that was bent immobile in front of his chest. He slid his hand up underneath it carefully to wash Brian’s chest then slipped it in behind to wash under his arm. They looked at each other the entire time. Once Brian was sufficiently soaped up, Justin turned him around under the spray to rinse him off. Brian could have done a lot more than he did, he wasn’t a complete invalid, but he was enjoying the relaxing feeling of letting Justin do all the work. He didn’t even raise his good arm to rinse underneath it until Justin grabbed his wrist and lifted it up for him. Once Brian was rinsed off, he turned back around and Justin reached for the shampoo.
“You know, I didn’t ask you to move in because I need your help or I need you to take care of me. I really just kind of like having you around to annoy me and shit.”
“I know you love me, Brian,” Justin teased with a big smile.
Brian didn’t answer at first; he just rolled his eyes. “So, then tell me, what’s the obligation and this thing you feel you have to see through ‘til the end? Did you sign a lease with Daphne or something?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s not it. I just figured I’d pay my share even though I’d be living here.” Well that sounded like a yes but there was still that damn ‘but’ and so far, that hadn’t been explained yet.
“Okay. So what is it then?”
Direct question deserving a direct answer. So that’s when Justin told him. Standing in the shower while shampooing his hair. Brian, of course, was proud of Justin for earning the opportunity. Same as he always was when Justin’s life took a positive turn. If he was the least bit upset about the news, he certainly didn’t show it.
“Well you have to go,” Brian told him as Justin gingerly toweled him off.
“I want to. It’s just… fuck!”
“Fuck, what?”
“I want to go but I want to stay,” Justin said as he hung the towel on the towel bar. He laughed to himself and rubbed his face. “Uhhh. I just can’t believe that the two things that I’ve wanted more than anything else present themselves to me within 48 hours of each other.”
Brian laughed. “This wouldn’t be considered a problem for most people, Justin. You gotta grab your dream while you can. You’re smart. You know what you have to do,” Brian told him. “One should never piss on an opportunity. They don’t always present themselves when things are convenient or when you want them to. You just have to make the decision that this is what you want and to hell with the rest. Your first obligation is to yourself before anyone else... and that includes me.”
“I know. But…”
“But nothing.” Brian grabbed his sling and walked out of the bathroom. Justin followed. “We’ve been over this before. I know what you’re saying, but it’s bullshit and unnecessary. The loft as well as yours truly will still be here when you get back.” He pulled a t-shirt out of a drawer… a drawer that was full of his own stuff. He looked at it for a minute then reached down, pulled out the rest of the shirts and stuffed them in another drawer leaving that one empty. “So will the drawers,” he added and Justin laughed. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Justin agreed, feeling a lot better about the situation.
Taking the t-shirt from Brian he wadded up the outsides, opened it wide and put it over the top of Brian’s head. Brian snaked his good arm through the armhole before Justin carefully maneuvered the shirt around and through the other arm. Once it was on, he carefully pulled the hem down under his bad arm and straightened it. Picking up the sling Justin wrapped it under and around the injured arm then put it around Brian’s neck, finally fastening the ends together. Brian started laughing.
Justin looked up at him. “What?”
“You’re just going to California because you don’t want to have to stay here and nurse a pathetic invalid. I’ll be all healed by the time you get back, you little twat. Very clever.”
Justin laughed. “Oh yeah, that’s definitely it, Brian. You can’t even fuck me properly right now. So yeah, I’m outta here.”
Oh well, that hurt. Brian pulled his lips in.
“Selfish bastard. Always thinking with your dick.”
“Selfish? Um, who got off a little while ago and who didn’t, again? It certainly wasn’t me. You, on the other hand, were well serviced.”
Well that hurt too. Too bad Justin didn’t know how much.
But Brian shrugged it off in perfect Kinney-style and smirked with a devilish grin and a gleam in his eyes. He reached his hand out and wrapped it firmly around Justin’s dick, pulling to bring Justin closer. Justin gasped and took a step forward. Cheek to cheek they stood, Brian working his magic on Justin’s cock and Justin whimpering at the administrations.
“I may not be able to fuck you properly right now,” Brian whispered in Justin’s ear, “but I’ve still got one good hand and I guarantee, my one hand can make you come harder than any dick in California.”
“Oh, fuck,” Justin gasped at Brian’s words, his fingers digging into the solid flesh of Brian’s bicep. He wanted to grab the other arm as well but he knew he couldn’t. Instead, he reached out for Brian’s hip and squeezed, trying to steady himself.
Justin bit his lip and breathed hard through his nose as Brian stroked and teased him. Before long Justin was a blithering mess, coming hard all over their freshly showered bodies. Brian had proven his point. At least he hoped that he had.
Oddly enough, for Brian the hardest part about Justin leaving on his little hiatus to sunny California was exactly what the blond had been eagerly ready to rib him about. Justin didn’t have to leave for four weeks but his broken bone wouldn’t be healed for at least six, so Brian was unable to fuck Justin properly before he left and that is what weighed heavily on Brian’s mind. Sure, they had sex. Justin rode topside and they did other things that were satisfying, even managing to land a couple of those adventures onto the coveted Top Ten list. But really fuck him, take him, control him, dominate him... nope, he was unable to do that. And as independent and strong-willed as Justin was, that had always been one of his favorite ways to have sex. To just be fucked. It made him feel alive and protected… and loved… and Brian knew it. He hated that he was unable to give him that before he left, and the knowledge left an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Brian took Justin to the airport and put him on the plane knowing that he hadn’t left his mark inside Justin’s body. And he knew that the first trick that Justin picked up was sure to receive one hell of an explosive orgasm out of him. It made him ache that it wouldn’t be him. And when Justin leaned up against him for his goodbye hug and kiss, whispering, ‘I love you, Brian’ and making promises of lots of hot phone sex, Brian considered, if only for a moment, asking Justin to call him while that first one was happening, so he could at least share it with him by sound if not by touch. But the thought was quickly banished because it would only make him appear jealous and needy, and the last thing he wanted was Justin laughing at him, so instead he just said, “Phone sex is so overrated,” and left it at that.
Justin wouldn’t have laughed, of course, but insecurities can be powerful things and Brian tended to put way too much importance on his sexual abilities when it came to Justin.
Justin rolled his water-filled eyes and Brian asked if he’d remembered to pack his allergy medication… more than eager to change the subject. Afraid of what might come out next, Brian pulled his lips into his mouth because it was easier to control the words that he felt edging their way toward his lips, words of longing and promise and even love. Otherwise he might have said something romantic or stupid.
Justin huffed and nodded with a swallow. “Eck, okay, I’m going,” Justin said as be backed away. “Later.” He smiled but it was a weak one.
“Later,” Brian responded, his smile not much better. No big deal. Not the end of the world. Justin turned around and was gone.
On the way home from the airport Brian thought about Hollywood and the fact that Justin only knew two people. Brett Keller and Conner James. Justin would never sleep with Brett. Business relationship and all. He was going to be his boss, of sorts. And he’d already had Conner and with their one-fuck-only policy that meant he was out. Well, he wasn’t ‘out’ obviously, being a closet case, but he would be off the available fuck list.
Besides, Conner, Brian reasoned, was a big movie star in great demand and would probably be away on location somewhere. Hollywood may be where the big studios were but these days more and more movies were being filmed elsewhere, like Canada and Miami. Yep. More than likely, Conner James wouldn’t even be in Hollywood. For some reason Brian felt a sense of comfort with the knowledge. He really wasn’t too sure why, he just knew that he did.
Turning on the radio, eager for the distraction, Brian cursed himself for even having those stupid thoughts. Unfortunately the music didn’t really help and new stupid thoughts crept into his brain. He really hoped that Justin’s first trick was just some nobody that he’d pick up at club, so that the extent of Justin’s orgasm would be lost and not mean anything. His stomach started cramping a little and he decided that he must be hungry. Pulling into the parking space ten minutes later the headache began and he knew he wasn’t hungry. He hated himself.
“Look Mikey, no hands,” he mumbled as the elevator ascended. “Huh, huh, huh. Fucking idiot.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, but it didn’t really do any good... his head continued to pound. When the elevator stopped he lifted the gate, stepped out and unlocked the loft door with a sudden realization… no one was going to be there.
Once inside he tossed his keys on the counter and walked to the refrigerator. Just as his hand touched the handle he saw it... a little something that Justin had left behind. Brian wasn’t sure of its purpose and figured it was one of two things. Justin didn’t want Brian to forget him. As if that could possibly happen. Or it was his way of marking off his territory. Because it meant that whenever Brian went to the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of water, a trick hot on his heels, Justin would be there, or actually JT would be there. Brian smiled, the little twat.
But the longer he stared at the picture, taped haphazardly to the metal door, the worse things got. The picture was a drawing of Rage and JT from the comic book. JT on all fours, ass in the air, fingers gripping pillows or sheets, mouth hung open in sheer ecstasy, and Rage behind him. Two strong hands - one on JT’s hips, the other holding his body weight - controlling the movements and dominating the scene. Justin’s favorite position and the very thing that Brian had been unable to do before Justin left. His stomach churned and his head pounded. He tore off the sling carelessly and threw it across the kitchen. “FUCK!” he yelled into the emptiness, cursing his damn broken bone and his own stupidity for why it happened in the first place.
Curving in on himself, pathetic and defeated, he shouted again, his face contorted into a painful twist as he grabbed his inflicted shoulder. The pain from his little tirade was excruciating. ‘Fucking idiot,’ he cursed himself. It hurt like a motherfucker... inside and out.