Of course, for Brian, it seemed like he always had a reason to call Justin, even if that reason was explained away as, “So, I’ve got this really hard problem that I thought you could help me with.” And of course Justin always had the Kinney translation guide close by, readily interpreting it to mean that he was missed. Brian would tell him that every so often, but it was never the reason for the call. Even though really, it was.
Every late night phone call, Brian laid in the bed, listening to every word Justin said, tracing circles over his body lightly like Justin used to do. He remembered how much it had annoyed him and how he’d always shoo Justin’s hand away. So when he caught his own hand making circles around his navel and softly tugging at the hairs, he rolled his eyes at himself and stopped, bringing that offending hand to his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. But he eventually found himself doing it longer and longer before he’d stop. One night in particular, when Justin was really feeling lonely and the conversation seemed to go on forever… not that Brian was complaining… he’d found that with his eyes closed and Justin’s rambling voice in his ear, it was if Justin was lying there beside him and not on the other side of the continent. So Brian suddenly found himself doing it all the time.
As the weeks passed by, Justin’s “I just missed you” calls got further and further apart. He always had something in particular to say. Brian tried not to let that get to him and there was no way that he would actually say anything about it, but he liked it when Justin called just for the hell of it. But now it appeared that Justin was settling into his environment, and while Brian had wanted him to do that, it left him feeling weird. He wasn’t jealous or worried, he tried to convince himself. He was just being his typical narcissistic self and making it all about him and his own needs. And what he hated the most was the fact that hearing Justin tell him that he missed him had become a need. When did that happen?
The progress of the casting seemed to always be a highlight for both of them. They found it amusing to discuss the people that could possibly end up playing “them”. And oddly enough, or understandably enough, the more they talked about the potential Rages and JTs, the more they ended up talking about themselves. They were able to say things without really saying anything because, you know, they weren’t really talking about Brian and Justin, they were talking about Rage and JT.
First it was Rage…
“Brett is pushing for Colin,” Justin told Brian one night, which inevitably made him laugh.
“He does want this movie to actually sell tickets, doesn’t he?” Brian asked sarcastically.
“Oh, come on, Brian. He’s one of the hottest actors right now. Very much in demand. That’s what Brett says anyway.”
“He can’t play Rage. He has a scrawny ass.”
“And you’re point is?” Justin asked with a grin.
“Hey, I’ll have you know that my ass is quite sought after. You, of all people, should know that. Everyone wants a piece of me.”
“Uh, Brian. They want your dick, that wonderfully bee-u-ti-ful dick… not your cute little ass.”
“Yeah, well. Whatever.” Brian had to agree… probably… but he still twisted around, trying to catch a glimpse of said ass over his shoulder. Cute or not, he didn’t have a scrawny ass. Did he?
“No, you’re ass isn’t scrawny,” Justin appeased him through the phone and Brian held it out to look at it with furrowed brows. How did Justin know he was checking it out? Little shit. “It just isn’t all that plump and rounded.” Justin giggled.
Brian huffed. “You mean, like yours? At least I can… Oh, never mind. I’ll spare you my razor-sharp wit. I kind of like your ass plump and round.”
Justin laughed. “Good, and I like yours as well. Even if it is scrawny. Just a little bit.”
Brian rolled his eyes. “Are we having phone sex here, because it’s really doing nothing for me.”
“No,” Justin smirked. “We’re talking about Colin playing Rage. Brett says that all the women love him.”
“Oh well, that’s always an important factor for consideration when one is casting the lead for a movie about a gay superhero. What about what we think is hot? You know, WE, as in queers. The people this movie is being made for.”
“I don’t know. Brett says the girls will bring their boyfriends and husbands,” Justin tried to explain.
“Well, there you have it. If Brett says…”
“Brian.”
“What, Justin? All I’m saying is you’ve got to appeal to the masses. First rule in advertising. And really, whoever the star is, has to appeal to the masses. And since Rage is a gay superhero, then the masses should include gay men first and foremost. Besides, we’re known to have impeccable taste, right? If we say he’s hot, so will the girlies.”
“Okay, I get it. So who do you suggest then?”
“Tom Welling,” Brian answered immediately.
Justin broke out into a fit of laughter. “The guy from Smallville?”
“Yeah, why not?” Brian was serious. “He’s tall, good-looking and if he’s good enough to play Superman, then I’d say he’s good enough to play me… I mean Rage.”
“I knew it!” Justin replied smugly. “Your narcissism is taking over your brain again.”
“When is it not?” Brian smirked.
“True,” Justin agreed. “But he’s already got a superhero gig. He might be afraid it would typecast him. And this is a gay role with nudity. And Colin’s already shown that he’s not afraid of either one of those aspects. This Tom Welling guy might not be so open with the man-on-man stuff. You know?”
“Oh please!” Brian’s forehead wrinkled at Justin’s naiveté. “He’s already starring in one. Clark and Lex are soooo doing it.”
“Whaaaat?” Justin asked scrunching up his face. “They are not!”
“Gotta read between the lines, Justin. I mean, come on. Lex is good-looking, wealthy and very intelligent. Why the fuck would he be hanging out with Clark, who is a fucking kid, for Christ’s sake, if he wasn’t slipping him the old greaser from time to time.”
Justin’s jaw dropped in shock. He watched that show. He certainly didn’t see things that way. “That doesn’t mean anything. You liked hanging out with me, whether you admit it or not, and in the beginning, I was just a teenager. And you were intelligent and successful. It didn’t stop you.”
“And we were fucking,” Brian added, matter of factly. Justin didn’t comment. “I rest my case.”
“Oh, right,” Justin said softly. “Okay, I see your point, but if Welling is playing a teenaged Clark, then wouldn’t he be too young to play Rage? I mean, you know, Rage is like 29 or 30. We gotta have someone older to play him.” Justin grinned into the phone and wished he were right next to Brian so he could see his face.
It wasn’t pretty. Brian was grimacing. And if he could’ve reached through the phone to strangle Justin, he would have.
“We need someone like Tom Cruise,” Justin turned the knife a little more.
Brian’s mind raged. “He’s like fucking 40 or 80, Justin!” he yelled into the phone. Justin started laughing, unable to hold it in any longer. “Fuck you, you little shit!”
“Brian, I’m kidding.” Justin curled his lips in, trying to hold the laughter inside and stop the smiling. Justin had to spend the rest of the phone call stroking Brian’s bruised ego and promising over and over that whoever Brett chose to play Rage would be perfect, because Justin wouldn’t give Brett a moment’s peace if he wasn’t. And Brian knew that to be true. Justin could be quite persistent when he wanted to be.
Brian had mixed feelings about the whole thing. He wanted the perfect person to be cast as Rage. Someone that wouldn’t embarrass him and someone that would make the movie a huge success. If it wasn’t a huge success then Justin being gone would have been all for nothing. There was a purpose for their separation and that was for Justin to help to make Rage into a blockbuster. Whoever was cast to play Rage had to be able to draw in the audience… for the movie. And had to be the hottest thing ever… for Brian’s ego. The problem was someone that met that criteria might turn Justin’s head. That thought drove Brian crazy. He couldn’t help it even though he knew he was acting like a ridiculous lesbian.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And then a few days later there was JT…
Everyone knew JT stood for Justin Taylor, but there was another Justin with a last name ending with a ‘T’ in the world who thought he’d be perfect to play JT. Brian thought it was worse than Brett’s Colin idea.
“Hey, get this… Justin Timberlake wants to play JT.”
“Whaaaat?” Brian practically squeaked out. Justin had to have been trying to yank his chain.
“He wants a real controversial role in order to break into acting with a bang or some shit like that.” Nope, no chain here. Justin was serious. Dead serious.
Brian was appalled and almost choked on his words. “He wants to break into acting by playing a gay character? By making out with a man? Naked. And by simulating getting fucked in the ass?” Brian couldn’t believe it. “I knew Britney and Cameron were beards.”
Justin laughed. “Yeah, I told Brett, no fucking way.”
“Well did he listen to you? Fuck this is worse than Colin. Christ!”
“Oh, he didn’t have to listen to me. He was never considering him at all. He just told me because it was funny. Can you believe it?”
“Well, thank god, somebody’s got some scruples. Justin Timberlake would not make a good JT. It’d be an atrocity. He doesn’t even look like you. He’s a sissy boy.”
“Hey! After I shaved my head, you called me Timberlake. You said I looked hot! You never said I looked like a sissy boy!” Justin yelled in a huff.
“Oh fuck, get over yourself. It was the same fucking haircut for cryin’ out loud,” Brian explained. “Besides you were being a fucking brat at the time.”
“I was not.”
“Hmmm. Let’s call your mom and ask her then. I think she would side with me on this one,” Brian said smugly, knowing it would shut Justin up. But then it hit him about the same time that Justin started laughing. “Fuck! Did I just say that we should call your mom?”
“Uh-huh,” Justin answered, still laughing. “Better make sure your dick is still there.”
“B-R-A-T!” Brian spelled out and Justin laughed until he got the hiccups.
“Sh-it,” he said in the middle of one.
Brian smirked. “Aw, see? If you were here, I could stick my dick, which is still attached to my balls, by the way, in your mouth and take care of those pesky things for you… but alas, you’re there and I’m here so you’ll have to deal with them all on your own.”
“Now who’s being a br-at?” Justin asked with another hiccup. “Shit.”
“Bend over and put your head between your legs.” Justin laughed. “And stop laughing or they’ll never go away.”
“I can’t he-lp it,” Justin said, his voice muffled since he had his head between his legs. “I saw on this website once… this guy was bent over and suck-ing his own dick. Can you imagine?”
“How pathetic would you have to be to want to suck your own dick instead of someone else doing it for you?” Brian bent his head down and held his dick straight up. Uh, no. That guy must have been pretty-damn-limber. “Pretty damn pathetic, if you ask me.”
Justin sat back up, somewhat positive that the hiccups were gone. “You’re just jealous because you can’t do it.” He knew Brian would try. He had when he’d seen the picture. Who wouldn’t… at least try… you know?
Brian furrowed his brows and looked around the ceiling. “I don’t do jealous,” he said, making a mental note to check for live internet feeds. The little shit.
“Oh, that’s right. I keep forgetting.”
Silence. The conversation had come to a stand still. They listened to each other breathe for a few moments. Brian got up from the bed and went to the refrigerator to get a beer. He saw the JT and Rage picture and smiled.
“They need somebody hot,” Brian said breaking the quiet. “For JT. Don’t let them forget that. And that’s not you being narcissistic or anything. It’s about Rage. Rage would never have looked twice at JT if he wasn’t hot.”
Justin blushed but smiled. Brian’s honesty with stuff like that always meant so much. It was too twisted to be a bunch of false pleasantries. But Justin always had to push. The age-old dilemma. Love vs. just fucking. They never agreed. “I like to think that Rage’s attraction for JT was more than superficial… even in the very beginning.”
“Uh, no. Think again, blond boy,” Brian disagreed.
“Brian.”
“Jusssstin,” Brian mocked. “When Rage first saw JT standing under that street lamp… it wasn’t his ability to carry on a conversation and quote public service announcements that got him to cross the street. He was hot and he wanted to fuck him. It was about sex. Period.”
Justin smiled and shook his head. “I see your point… but…”
“But what?”
“Rage didn’t meet JT under a street lamp, he met him because he was being gay-bashed in an alley and Rage saved his life.” Justin couldn’t quit grinning. Brian was just so adorable sometimes.
“Well, same fucking difference,” Brian snapped, realizing what he’d said and that Justin’s head had probably swelled three sizes by now. “He didn’t take him back to his lair and fuck his brains out because of his creativity and intelligence.”
Justin kept snickering. “I agree. It was his vulnerability, sweetness and light.”
Yep, definite head swelling had occurred. “Fuck that, Romeo! He wanted to stick his dick in between those full, pouty, suckable lips and inside that round, tight, fuckable ass.” Brian paused and swallowed. “Yeah, that’s what it was.” Of course, now he had head swelling… between his legs. Fuck.
“You’re so sweet, Brian.” Justin said with an amused sigh.
There was silence. Brian was still thinking about those suckable lips and that fuckable ass. “Then no fucking Justin Timberlake as JT,” Brian whispered as almost an afterthought as he stroked his hardening cock.
“We’ll find the perfect JT, I promise.” Justin waited and despite the muffled slapping sounds, he asked anyway, “Brian? Are you jacking off?”
“What do you think?”
Justin grinned, settling back on the bed and pushing his hand under his towel. Closing his eyes, he whispered into the phone, “I think, yes.”
Brian closed his eyes. “Ssshhh. Don’t talk.” He listened to Justin breathe into the phone, it made him feel like he was right there with him. Close enough so he could touch him, not on the other end of the phone, three thousand fucking miles away. “Just let me hear you breathe.”
‘Oh god,’ Justin thought, a slight whimper escaping from his throat. His dick hardened immediately.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When the first contract was signed, Justin was excited. He thought the final choice was perfect to play Rage. He had all the right elements. He was tall and somewhat muscular. Not overly so like the steroid cases but enough to look like a superhero and of course, fill out the tights in all the right places. A strong jawline, which was critical for Rage to have, at least according to Brian. And those eyes… deep, sultry bedroom eyes that were an important feature for Rage to have since so much of Rage’s communication was through his looks. He was handsome and debonair. Overall, strikingly gorgeous… same as Brian, yet in a different way. Oh yeah, it was a great choice and he was overjoyed. Hell, he wouldn’t have gone home with him the last time he was in California if he hadn’t had that certain something. Justin didn’t just sleep with any ole troll, after all. He had standards. And while no one ever really stood up against Brian on the Kinney-scale there were some that came close. And well, Conner James was one of them. Not to mention that he was a huge action movie star, loved by all and a guaranteed box office draw. What a coup this was for the movie.
Besides, Justin had already slept with him so he knew the guy could move. Not as well as Brian, but no one moved inside Justin as well as Brian, so that wasn’t really a negative. In his own right, Conner was pretty damn good. He’d make a good Rage. And since Justin knew him… intimately… he’d be able to work well with him on what it would take to be a great Rage. In fact, Conner had already called him and asked him to do just that. He wanted to learn everything there was to know about Rage. And that made Justin even more positive that Conner was the right choice. He wanted to do research… he cared about Rage, at least enough that he wanted to do him justice.
Justin couldn’t wait to tell Brian. ‘What are the odds?’ he thought to himself. The only big time actor he fucked in Hollywood was going to be Rage and he would be working closely with him on the movie. ‘Gotta be one in a million,’ Justin assumed. He hurried home to call Brian.
“You busy? You going out tonight?” Justin asked.
“Busy… yes. Going out… no. I have some work to do on a new account,” Brian sighed. “When you own your own company, the work is never ending.”
“Good,” Justin said breathlessly.
“I’ll chalk that one up to a Freudian slip. What’s got you all worked up?”
“You won’t fucking believe this. They signed Rage! I’m still in shock. He’s gonna be good, Brian. You’re gonna be happy. You are. This is so great. I can’t believe it,” Justin rambled nonstop into the receiver. As soon as he paused to take a much needed breath, Brian was finally able to chime in.
“You’re babbling like a schoolgirl again. Did you get laid or something?” Brian asked amused, standing at his desk and pulling his work for the evening out of his briefcase.
“No! This is better!” Justin answered back excitedly.
“Better than getting laid? Have I taught you nothing?” Brian smirked. He heard Justin huff at him but he still didn’t say anything. “Well? Save the fucking drum roll dramatics and tell me who it is that’s got your panties all in a knot!”
“Conner. Conner James!”
Brian dropped the papers in his hand. Dead silence. Fuck. Tricks are tricks. You’re sure as hell not supposed to then start working with them! On a fucking movie! When your boyfriend, partner, whateverthefuck was on the other side of the fucking planet! What are the fucking odds? His heart felt like it was being twisted and squeezed. His head started pounding and throbbing. He walked to the kitchen counter, combing his hand through his hair then grabbed the bottle of beam and removed the lid. He held it in his hand, his fingers gripping the neck of the bottle, strangling it, his fingertips turning white. And why the fuck wasn’t Conner already committed to some other movie and out on location, like in Zimbabwe or something? In his twisted imagination that’s where he was. He certainly wasn’t in fucking Hollywood. Where Justin was. And Brian wasn’t. Fuck.
This had to be a cruel joke. Right? But why? He played everything over in his mind. He’d been good. He didn’t deserve this shit. He took a swig of the alcohol and held it in his mouth, using the burn on his tongue to remove the pain in his chest and head. He closed his eyes. Waiting and thinking… if he just didn’t say anything then sadistic, evil Vic would appear and remove the vices that’d been so maliciously placed on him and he would wake up from this nightmare. Was this his punishment for not begging Justin to stay and not go to California? It couldn’t be, could it? That would have been wrong. He knew he did the right thing. So why the torture?
“Brian, did you hear me? Conner James!”
And Brian knew. This wasn’t some sadistic nightmare where poor old dead Uncle Vic liked to torture him. It was worse. This was reality. He swallowed the burning alcohol knowing it wouldn’t do any good to hold it any longer. The pain was really there. He took the few steps to the bedroom and sat down on the platform, setting the bottle down and pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Brian?” Justin asked confused. Did Brian not see the cosmic connection? Did Brian not appreciate the odds? Did he not see how great this would be for the movie?
“I heard you. That’s great,” Brian said flat.
“You don’t seem very happy about it. I thought you’d be pleased. He’s got the looks, the body and the reputation. In a weird kind of way, he’s a lot like you. Everybody wants him.” Yeah, Justin had wanted him… once. Did he want him again? He pinched his nose harder trying to squeeze the headache out. “Conner James is to Hollywood what you are to Liberty Avenue. You know what I mean? Hell, I wouldn’t have…” Justin’s voice trailed off. “Ohhhh!”
That made Brian perk up. The last thing he needed was for Justin to know how he was feeling about this bit of tragic news. The gods must really hate him. “What do you mean, ‘ohhhh’?”
“Somebody’s jealous…” Justin sing-songed.
“Fuck you. I don’t do…”
“Jealous,” Justin finished for him with a smirk. “Yeah, I know. Well then what? What’s wrong with Conner playing Rage, besides the fact that he fucked me?”
“It has nothing to do with the fact that he fucked you, Justin.” Brian’s face grimaced merely from the words and his headache got worse. He got up, taking the Beam with him as he headed into the bathroom. Pulling a bottle of extra strength Advil out of the cabinet, he paused, he had to think. If it wasn’t because he was jealous, then what? He shoved four Advil into his mouth and washed them down with a big swig of liquor. Think fast. Hurry.
“Because he’s a closet case.” Yeah, that’s it. Brian looked at his reflection in the mirror then quickly looked away. He believed in honesty, damn it. He hated it when he had to lie. But he told himself, it wasn’t really lying. It was simply disguising the truth. He grabbed the bottle and went back to the bed.
“Whaaat?” Justin asked, his voice raising several octaves. “You always said that it’s not lying if they make you lie.”
“I know what I said,” Brian snapped, the self-disgust making him sick to this stomach. No one was making him ‘disguise the truth’, so yeah, it was fucking lying. But he couldn’t go back now, he had to stick with it. “This is different.”
“I don’t see how it’s different. Michael didn’t tell the truth at work because it could have kept him from getting promoted. Well, maybe Conner feels that if he tells the public, it could keep him from getting the big roles or keep people from going to see his movies. Same thing, in my book.”
Oh, so that’s what Conner had told Justin. Great, they talked. He should’ve known. Justin just can’t seem to fuck and keep his mouth shut. He has to converse and get to know people. Christ! “Oh, is that what he told you while you were sucking his dick? And it was a big dick, if I remember right.”
And that gave it away. Justin knew the truth now and he knew that no matter what he said, Brian was going to fight this. But he forged ahead.
“Brian look. Let’s say you’re right and I’m wrong. Then wouldn’t Conner taking this role be a huge step in righting that wrong? He’s making a huge sacrifice by doing this, don’t you think? People will begin to suspect and scrutinize his every move. He could lose everything.”
Justin had a point and Brian hated him for it. He laid down on the bed and closed his eyes. The image of Conner and Justin plastered on the backside of his eyelids. He opened them to remove the image. His blood boiling at Justin’s last words. Making sacrifices and putting it all on the line for the greater good. Conner must have taken this role for Justin. To prove something to Justin. Had Justin said something to him before that had made him think less about himself? God knows Justin’s idealism had made Brian feel like shit numerous times. And before he could stop himself, the words just tumbled out.
“Is that what you told him while he was plowing your smooth, tight ass? Amazing what sacrifices some men are willing to make when their conscious has been massaged by a hot piece of blond boy ass with an intelligent tongue.”
“You’re a fucking asshole.” And Justin hung up.
Yeah, he was. He knew he was. Vic’s malicious vices tightened and suddenly Brian felt like going out and getting his dick sucked after all.