Everything around me defines who I am. What I am.

And now that there’s nothing around me, I feel...

Hmm... I was going to say lost. I expected to feel lost. But, actually no, I don’t feel lost. I feel simply...

Non-defined.

Like Justin—my boyfriend, in a non-defined, non-conventional way.

That’s my fucking life now.

Non-defined and non-conventional.

I used to define myself by my possessions. My original Attila painting, my Mies van der Rohe chairs and coffee table, my B&B Italia leather couch and dining room set, my la Pavoni cappuccino maker, my Philips TV, my Corvette and my fucking closet full of Armani, Prada, Hugo Boss and Calvin Klein...

Things... that cease to have meaning to me now.

At one time it was so important for me to have those things. Growing up, it was what I wanted. All I wanted. Having things seems so fucking important when you have nothing.

So I worked hard in high school to get good grades and a scholarship. Worked my ass off in university to get grants and bursaries. Slaved countless hours as an intern, getting my first job out of school then working my way up, finally ending up with Ryder, where I kissed his ass for years and years, until he fucking screwed me and sold the agency. Then I had to prove myself to Vance, pushing myself hard... pushing myself too far.

Just working, working, working...

For these things, things, things...

Don’t think I’ll even miss `em. Not really.

Course, it’s hard to miss a couch and a TV and a cappuccino maker when Justin’s breath is trailing across my skin... his body is pressed up against mine... fingers stroking my forearm...

Makes all that other shit not really matter anymore.

Because even though I know I’m screwed... know that I’m going to be balancing my life, my money... scrounging and saving and budgeting in a way that I haven’t done since I was in college... even though I know all that and countless other things I haven’t even considered just yet—gym memberships and cleaning services and gas bills and subscriptions and the thousand ways I drain my bank account...

I feel...

Okay.

Content.

Satisfied.

Proud.

Christ, I underestimated those things before. Underestimated how much they were worth.

And now that everything else is gone...

I have nothing left to define myself with.

Can’t measure my worth by the value of anything, because I have nothing now.

Nothing.

*sigh*

Maybe... it’s time to redefine myself.

No more rules, no more expectations.

No more feeling like I have to be someone else... like I have to be the person that everyone expects me to be.

I remember saying to Justin fucking forever ago... remember telling him that I knew it was scarier finding your own way than doing what was expected.

Time to take my own advice.

Time to find my own way again.

Time to stop doing what everyone expects. Stop letting them down and fucking up and doing the wrong thing like they always expect me to. It’s because they expect those things of me that I’ve never had difficulty in doing them.

But maybe I should break all their expectations. Do what feels good. Stand up proud. Give Justin... more. Let Mikey go.

Maybe I should do all those things and more...

Because nobody expects me to.

And everybody wants me to.

Justin shifts beside me... I roll over onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillow... his body follows me, curling up against mine in a way that makes me feel warm inside as much as out.

He rubs his hand across my back, fingers spread out... pressing into my muscles and rubbing across my skin... I humm through my nose and he breathes into my neck... lips pressing into my hair...

The loft is silent... the movers long gone... my stuff long gone...

All I have left is the memory of Justin’s face... the look on his face when I admitted what I did. That I put up all the cash for the ads. He just... looked at me. Like he was proud. Don’t think I’ve really seen that look from him before. I’ve seen lust and disappointment and happiness and anger and passion and sadness... but not pride before. Not like that.

It felt good. Fucking good. Surprisingly good.

And I won’t lie and say that I did it all for feeling good. That I did it all because it was "the right thing to do". No, I did it because I want payback. And revenge. And I don’t want that fucker Stockwell ruling over one more square inch of my life. Don’t want that asshole taking anything else away from me or from Justin or from Michael or anyone. And for that... I risked everything. Because I believe in myself, and I know that I’m fucking good at what I do, and I know... inherently... that what I did was right.

And it does feel good.

And now. I lie here. On this bed. With Justin wrapped around me. And it’s like ten thousand times before, but completely brand new. Reality and perception keep shifting before my eyes. Keep blurring in and out of focus, while the thoughts of money and love and happiness swirl around in my head. Thoughts of what the fuck I’m doing and I’m going to do and how the fuck I got here in the first place.

Christ. Don’t think. Now is not the time for thinking. So I let my body do the talking. Do the thinking.

Fall into my favourite standby. Fall into that place where I know it’ll always, always, be good.

And with that final thought... I let go. Drifting away... slipping into a state of semi-consciousness... no stress, no worry, no nothing... just left with feeling good. And like I risked everything. For something I believe in. Strongly.

I did what I wanted to do.

Not what everyone else expected me to do.

Not what anyone expected me to do.

Minutes pass... don’t really know how long... silence surrounds us... I think he’s asleep then feel him move... his fingers slowly pull from my hair... his head lifts from my shoulder... his leg unwraps from mine...

I feign sleep. Just wanna lie here, dozing in and out... eyes closed... don’t wanna move or speak or do anything but just breathe...

The bed lifts as he climbs off it... hear him walk down the steps, his shoes still on... the soft soles tapping against the hardwood...

Echoes in the empty room...

Hear the latch on the door slide shut. Hear the alarm beep on. Hear him toe off his shoes and then just the near-silent padding of his sock feet as he walks across the room. His jacket falling to the floor.

Hear him mutter a curse under his breath. Then hear nothing.

Silence.

Holy fuck. I mean, holy, holy, holy fuck.

I can’t fucking believe he did this. It doesn’t seem real yet. It doesn’t seem right yet.

Fuck, this will never seem right.

I look around at the empty space... see the hazy shadow where the naked guy painting once hung.

And it’s dark. Never realized how many lamps and light fixtures Brian had in here—used to have in here—and they’re all gone.

He told me everything went to the auction. He told me it was the only way to get money to pay for the ads.

He told me it was all gone for good.

Stereo, TV, DVD player, VCR, camcorder, PlayStation, scanner, fax machine... gone.

Aw fuck. The Le Corbusier chaise lounger. Gone. How could he sell that? But of course he had to. It’s a collector’s piece. It’ll sell for five hundred at least.

Last night trickles into my brain... fucking on the couch and the lounger and the dining table. A smile slips across my face. Hmmmm. We fucking said good bye, that’s for sure.

Good bye, good bye, good bye.

All gone. No more ice cream afternoons. No more late nights on the couch. No more frantic fucks on the table. No more of any of that.

Couch, rug, chairs, coffee table, lamp, pillows, side tables... gone.

A sudden fear hits me, washing through my spine. Fuck, I never even considered—shit, I really hope he doesn’t have to sell the loft. I really, really, really hope he doesn’t have to. It’s his home. It’s where he belongs. It’s... just him.

And, in lots of ways, it’s my home too. More so than anywhere else, now that mom’s moved out of the old house. That new townhouse will never be my home, just like Mikey’s old room will always be that—Mikey’s old room. Never my room.

When I lived at Ethan’s—fuck. It was always his place. It could never be mine. I hardly had anywhere to set up my computer, never mind put any clothes. I lived out of a fucking duffel bag practically the entire time I was there.

And Daph’s... I’m just a transient there. Until her old roomie breaks up with her new boyfriend and moves back in or until Daph gets her own boyfriend. It’s not home for me. I’m just temporary.

But this place... the loft... Brian’s place...

This is my home. Even if I’m not living here, this is home.

This is where I started my life. This is where I hurt, I loved, I cried, I fucked. Where I learned fucking everthing. Learned who I am and who I could be.

This is my home.

I don’t want him to lose it. Fuck, I don’t want him to lose it.

I hear a rustle in the bedroom and I look in between the shutters. Brian’s thrown his arm over his eyes, lying flat out on his back, hand on his stomach...

Just lying there.

What the fuck must be going through his head. I can’t even imagine what it must be like. He’s worked so goddamn hard for everything. And now it’s gone. I mean, for me—whatever. I can do without these things, despite what Brian thinks about my expensive tastes. I did it when I was Ethan. No big deal. I don’t need shit. I really don’t.

But Brian? He’s all about the shit. He’s all about having things and showing them off. This must fucking kill him. And Christ! I can’t fathom owing a hundred thousand dollars. Un-fucking-believable. That’s an impossible amount of money. Just fucking impossible.

I walk back towards the bedroom, and pull my sweater over my head, leaving me just in my t-shirt. It’s kind of cool in here, but I don’t plan on staying cold for very long.

I climb the steps to the bed, and Brian turns his head a little... his eyes meet mine and I stop. I feel busted somehow, like I was snooping or something, but that’s such a ridiculous thing. No, it’s more like I feel like I was sticking my finger in an open wound. Like I was caught peeking behind the curtain and seeing how the magic’s really done.

We stare at each other... his eyes catching mine... watching me... waiting for what he thinks he’s going to hear. But, I know he doesn’t want me to say anything. Know he doesn’t want to hear the million reasons why this was such a bad a idea in lots of ways. But... I don’t really think it was a bad idea.

It was a great idea. A fucking great idea.

But you can’t tell Brian shit like that. Can’t tell him he succeeded. Can’t tell him that he did the right thing. Can’t tell him that I’m so unbelieveably proud of him.

He doesn’t hear words. They’re meaningless to him.

You have to show him.

And I plan on doing just that.

BRIAN’S POV

I look over my shoulder and see him standing at the second to last stair... just staring at me.

He looks freaked out a little. And it makes me realize that maybe this is all bigger than I imagined. Makes me realize that, holy fuck, a hundred thousand dollars is a lot, lot, lot of money.

But then again...

It isn’t.

He stares at me a moment, and I’m sure he’s going to say something, but then I see a glimmer in his eyes, and he breaks into a smile... comes a little closer, climbing the last step.

Unbuttons his pants, pulls down the zipper... his baggy jeans slump around his hips... accentuating the profile of ass... he pushes his jeans down to his ankles and steps out of the confines of the denim, climbing onto the bed in his underwear and t-shirt and crawling towards me, his heavy dick swinging in his briefs...

Still smiling.

It’s fucking infectious, because next thing I know, I’m smiling too.

Have no right. Shouldn’t be. It’s ridiculous. My life is fucking over. I’ve ruined everything. Thrown away fucking everything.

But he’s smiling and it makes me smile. Can’t explain it. Just happens.

“I wanna fuck till tomorrow,” he says in a deep whisper, lying behind me and pressing every inch of his body to mine. I put my head back on the pillow, the cotton cool against my cheek... his arms wrap around me tightly... his face nestles in the back of my neck... warm breath trails down my back as he sighs contentedly.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask, closing my eyes, and shifting onto my stomach a little. He follows me, sliding his leg between mine.

“Hm, nope.” He grins. “And neither do you.”

“Maybe I do,” I say pretty fucking unconvincingly.

His fingers run along my thigh... brush across my crotch... then push up under my shirt...

“That’s the benefit of unemployment and being kicked out of school,” he says quietly, the smile never leaving his voice. “Lots of free time to fuck.”

I roll my eyes. “Justin... ever the optimist,” I moan.

“That’s me,” he says, opening his hand wide and rubbing his palm across my stomach... his hips press into me, and I feel his hard cock on my ass...

Feels good to have him wrapped around me like this... his fingers on my chest slide up and tweak my nipples till they’re hard... I match his slow push against my ass with my own push back...

Moments pass... he parts his lips and heavier breaths pass over my face... he pushes his fingers up into my hair, scratching against my scalp... starts kissing my neck softly... lips opening and closing over my skin... tongue and teeth darting out to nip and taste...

Ahhh... Justin always knows what I need. I think I’ve been underestimating him for far too long.

I bunch the pillow under my head and his hand on my chest slips down and unbuttons my jeans... then wraps around my cock... getting hot and hard... fuck, it just feels so good lying here... don’t wanna move... just wanna lie here... forever...

But his kisses are unrelenting... tickling across my skin... soft lips tempting me over and over...

And his fingers know just how to play me... know how to stroke my dick... to make me sigh...

Reach behind me... feel his cotton underwear under my fingertips... his thigh cool... trail my fingers to his ass... his muscles slowing working as he presses into me...

His hand follows mine on his ass... then over to my hip... his fingers push between us and slide down my back... further... then under the band of my jeans...

His palm cups my ass... fingers trace over the contours and dance across my crack... I sigh into the pillow, feeling a slow burn ignite inside me. Deep inside me.

And I just close my eyes and let him have me...

Have all that I’ve got left.

I twist my head around and meet his lips, holding his head to mine awkwardly, just trying to taste him... wanting to kiss him... he hungrily takes my tongue into his mouth... pushing his cock against me hard...

Slowly I break the kiss... his eyes are closed... a half smile on his lips... he presses his face back into my neck... seeking out my taste again...

I reach out to the bedside table, and dip my fingers into the bowl full of condoms... hang onto the edge of the bowl, then grab one of the condoms and flip it between my fingers for a second... running the plastic package over my knuckles then back again.

Considering...

Then press it into Justin’s palm and lift my knee to show him.

Can’t tell him.

But, I want this.

His fingers close over the condom and he breathes into the back of my neck... he doesn’t speak, doesn’t ask if I’m sure, knows that I’m not...

Finishes unbuttoning my jeans... pushing them over my hips... my shirt slides away... he struggles out of his and tears off his underwear...

Then feel his naked body press against mine... his warm skin touching me everywhere...

I roll onto my stomach and pull one knee to my chest... opening myself to him... he straddles my back, kissing the base of my neck... climbing down my body... leaving long licks down my spine as he goes...

Till he presses his nose into my crack, parting my cheeks... licking, licking, licking... tongue darting out... touching me, tasting me...

Ah... ah... ahhhhhhh... press of his tongue to my hole... I clench my ass unconsciously, but he pulls my cheeks apart... holding me open... his tongue pushes inside me... then out again... in again out again in again out again...

And...

I let go. A weight is lifted and...

I relax.

Shoulders sink into the mattress... a heavy breath leaves my lungs from so far deep inside me... mouth drops open... hands stop clasping and clinging...

And I relax.

Justin feels it, and presses his face into my ass... pushes his tongue as far as he can inside me... so far, so far... and just holds it there...

I want this.

Slowly his tongue pulls away and I crave that feeling again... that hot, wet feeling... he slides further down the bed and licks my balls... tongue bathing that wicked spot between my balls and my hole.

Breathing, breathing... and when his fingers grip my hips and pull me over onto my back, I don’t even think about how nobody fucks me like this. How I don’t really feel comfortable being fucked like this. Don’t even think about any of that.

But then I don’t feel like that with him. Not really, at all. Funny how respect and trust and companionship and love all roll up together like that and make things so different. Like how he’s different. Than everyone—anyone—else.

He climbs between my legs and I hear the crinkle of the package, then a little sigh leave his lips as he rolls the condom on his dick... my knee bends to my chest... my calf lies against his neck... and his cock touches my ass, slick from his spit... he rubs the head of his dick around my hole... little circles that lull me with pleasure... fuck, feels good, so good... I open wide and push down inside... his cock presses harder, harder, harder... until....

Uh. Oh. Hmmm... oh! One tiny push inside me and I feel it everywhere... balls, spine, toes... makes me suck in a breath and open my eyes...

And I see him... his face so close to mine... deep blue eyes watching me so intently... blond hair like a curtain falling into my face... he bites his lip... and presses my knee forward... and then he’s further inside and further inside and further and further and I breathe and breathe and breathe...

And then...

He’s inside me.

Fuck, he’s completely inside me.

JUSTIN’S POV

Oh God, this is better than anything... fucking anything.

I just have to watch him. I just have to see his face and know that I’m doing this to him... that I’m inside him and fucking him and it feels so good, so tight, so intense...

Little pull out... then in again, in again, in again...

His cheeks are flushed... dark pink patches high on his cheekbones... his eyes drifting open and closed... his jaw drops and he sucks in a gust of air...

And I push into him again... and watch it happen again... sweat busting out on his forehead... hair plastered to his skin...

I run my thumb across his cheek and his eyes focus on me... lips turn up into a smile... then his hand is wrapped around my neck and he pulls our mouths together... his legs tightening around me... I’m held inside him... completely overwhelmed with just him....

Tongue diving into my mouth.... the heat inside him passes to me... burning intensity... and I pull out just the tiniest bit... so I can experience that deep pleasure of pushing back inside him...

And he’s surrounding me everywhere... holding me tightly with his legs pressing down into the small of my spine... hands woven into my hair... pulling my lips to his for a kiss... ass pulling my cock further inside him... mouth sucking on my tongue...

I’m completely inside him...

And I hope he hears me.

BRIAN’S POV

He pulls from my mouth, breathing hard... and he looks at me... stares at me. I try to pull him to me for a kiss, but he resists... just keeps his eyes locked on mine... rocking his dick into me over and over and over again... sweat shining on his forehead and his hair swinging back and forth across his cheeks... biceps shaking with the effort of holding himself over me... pushing into me...

God... my eyes start to close... relish that deep... deep... pleasure inside... cock passing over my prostate again and again till I can’t feel anything other than this... until there’s nothing left in this world... except this...

Start to get lost...

And then... oh... his fingers brush my face and he says my name... I open my eyes and he’s still looking at me... trying to look through me... seeing inside me...

I’ve let him inside me...

And there are words that want to be said... there are things that should be told and explained and yelled and whispered... there are thousand of things and yet just one that should be...

... said...

But he says everything I want to hear—I need to hear. He knows how to talk to me.

I grab the sheets, gripping the material painfully between my knuckles... trying to hold on... trying to finish this conversation... trying not to break this stare... seeing new things and old things and hearing and trying to let him know and fucking wishing it could always be as easy as this and instinctively wanting to close down and shut him out but knowing that it’s far, far, too late for that...

His eyes flicker and he leans closer to me... almost stops for a split second... then pushes into me hard, so hard... I don’t want to like this as much as I do... don’t want to feel like this is more than it should be... but find my fingers clutching his ass and pushing him into me again, loving the flush of pleasure that soars through every fucking nerve, the deep connection I feel with him inside... holding on holding on, not wanting it to stop...

He gets faster and deeper and more intense and the harder I try to hold on the harder it is not to let go and then oh God! Fuck! Christ! Oh... I lose it... let go... and everything spins away from me... my body jerking inside and out... back arching up off the bed and forcing him deeper inside me... he cries out, grabbing my thighs and squeezing my muscles with his fingers... we hold together tightly... panting and riding it... hearts thumping... bodies slick and sticky... cum spilling onto my stomach and I hardly have the awareness that it’s mine... that it won’t go on forever and ever...

And then...

It’s over. And all I’m left with is that feeling.

That feeling that I thought I never wanted.

That feeling that I tried to deny.

That feeling that he gave me.

That feeling that I’ve finally let myself have.

A feeling that I cling to now.

A new way to define myself.

I let go and hold on at the same time... he collapses on top of me, his body crushing mine... slippery against my chest with cum pressed between us... our limbs wrapped together madly... tightly... his body rises and falls on my chest with each breath...

Slowly he raises his hips, sliding out of me... rolls onto his back, pulls the condom off...

He curls his head into my neck, his hair brushing my chin and I feel as though I’m sinking into the bed... a hollow echo glimmering in my body... the wave of euphoria slowly stripping away...

“It’s done,” he says. “You did it.”

I smile in the near darkness of the room. He believes I can do it. Believes I can save the day and stop Stockwell from winning the election. Believes that the very act of me trying to do it has finished it. But I can’t let him believe that.

“I’ve done nothing yet,” I say, and my voice is surprisingly hoarse... the empty room echoing the sound back to me. “It hasn’t even started.”

He says nothing and lets this hang in the air.

It hasn’t started. Tomorrow it starts and hopefully tomorrow it ends.

Hopefully.

Because this sacrifice shit can get stale pretty quick. Especially if you’ve got nothing left to sacrifice.

And nothing left to believe in.

Go to Part 4...