JUSTIN’S POV

“Glad he’s gone,” I say quietly... standing over Brian... I’d waited an hour for him to come back from dropping that idiot kid off at Ben and Michael’s.

He looks up at me from his seat on the couch... puts his glass on the table and leans back into the soft cushions...

I push my shins against his knees then slide my legs on either side of his... slowly falling into his lap...

“Mm hmmm...” Brian hums under his breath... his hands on my thighs... following my movements...

I settle on top of him... our crotches brushing together...

“He’s a little shit,” I say.

Brian laughs at me, raising his eyebrows. “You’re not... threatened are you?” he taunts me...

“Fuck you,” I say, sticking my tongue between my teeth at him... I grip his wrists in my hands, pulling his arms over his head.

“I’d never be threatened...” I breathe into his face, smelling gin and cigarettes. “Because I know...” I let the words hang... float in the air... I press my nose to his...

“Know what,” he says lazily... he’s... testing me... daring me almost... trying to get me to say...

“You know...” I whisper in his face again, squeezing my grip on his wrists... kiss him on the face, and close my eyes...

“You’re fucking crazy,” he mumbles, but I hear the smile in his voice...

I grin at him. “Course I am...”

Pull back a little and run my tongue over my lips... let go of his wrists... pull his tank top off over his head... then slide back and unbutton his jeans... sit up so I can take them off...

Know he’s watching me and bite my bottom lip as I see his nest of pubic hair revealed... then his dick... hard... curving up towards his belly... I pull his jeans off and toss them aside... then stand in front of him... slowly slipping my underwear down over my hips... my cock springing up from the confines of the cotton...

He stares at me... and I like the feel of his eyes on my body... like the way his gaze sweeps back and forth across my chest... the way his dick twitches... when he looks at my cock...

I climb on to his lap, straddling him... my knees pressing into the wedge between the back and the seat of the couch... I slide down his thighs... till our dicks touch... his fingers coast up and down my back... tickling in a such a good way...

Sitting above him like this gives me a different perspective... I put my hands on either side of his face... caressing his skin with the pads of my fingers gently... tip his head up for a kiss... his eyes close... and I kiss him again... my thumbs smoothing over his cheekbones... playing against his soft skin... our mouths opening and closing to touch and taste... tongues venturing out...

Kiss his face... kiss his cheeks... his nose.... his eyelids... his fingers on my back slide down to my ass and he presses me forward... my balls settle against the base of his dick...

Then his lips again... and... I kiss him harder... covering his mouth with mine... tilting his head back... trapping him with my lips... I feel him struggling for each breath... drowning in my kisses... I devour him... pulling his tongue into my mouth... sucking on it... pulling on it... then pushing my tongue into his mouth... discovering every taste... every feeling... letting spit cover my lips and slip down my chin... my skin burning with intensity... his fingers squeezing my ass... little grunts from his throat... he tries to lift his head, but I hold him firmly between my fingers... eating him... ravaging him... taking all of him... all that I ever wanted...

I tear our mouths apart... we’re left panting... sucking in little breaths... a smile plays in his eyes... see the wash of lust glaze over his face...

Take my dick in my hand...run my thumb over the tip... he watches as I bring my thumb... covered in my pre-cum... to his lips... he slides his tongue out and laps it up... flicking it back into his mouth... rub my thumb over his cock... picking up his own slick pre-cum... and press my thumb to his lips again... spreading his seed over his mouth... my dick jerking a little as I watch his red lips grow shiny with his cum.........

Can’t help it... I lean into him again and lick his lips... taking his cum on my tongue... he kisses me... pulls me to him and dives his tongue into my mouth... taking his taste back... sharing my taste with me...

We kiss and kiss... I take both our cocks in my grip... and hold us together... fuck... his cock is so hot... so hard... his fingers wrap over mine... and we just hold each other... press our dicks together... our kisses intensifying again... feel him breathing harder... feel my heart thumping in my chest...

Oh... oh, oh, oh... fuck... I need to slow down...

I loosen my grip... and so does he... releasing our hungry cocks... the cool air suddenly hitting my dick... making me feel open... and bare... 

Lean over to the side table and grab a condom... I slide back on his thighs a little... then tear the packet open... put the ring on the head of his cock... and sliiiiiiide it down... watching his face... his eyes on me... fluttering shut as my fingers roll down his dick... then opening up again... to watch me... see me...

I kiss him lightly again... stroke the back of my hand along his face... he rolls his lips into his mouth... he can’t hide his anticipation... how much he wants this...

Take his dick in my fingers... position him at my hole... press down.... just the tiniest bit... not quite taking him inside yet... just... letting him sit in the dip in my ass... the coolness of the lubrication on the condom slipping around on my skin...

His eyes catch mine... I don’t break his gaze... intense... unwavering... unblinking... seeing everything... seeing all that I used to try and hide... seeing how much I love him... how much I need him...

His fingers close on my wrist... and just... tighten... it’s so comforting... so... real...

I press down further... sitting back down on his lap... taking his cock inside me... he starts to close his eyes... but I put my hand on his face...

Look at me... I whisper...

His gaze returns to mine... and... we just stare... just... connect... and I feel him moving inside me... filling me up... pressing inside me all over..... it hurts like it always hurts... and feels good like it always feels good... but it’s so intense... seems so much more than... always...

My skin prickles... and I get that cold sweat of penetration... feel the pressure inside me... the familiar sensation... the stretching of my skin... the *wow* of his cock slipping against that amazing place inside me... I fall forward, his dick buried completely in my ass... his pubes brushing against my skin... my balls resting on his groin... our hair... messed up together...

His breath washes over me... and still we... connect...

Christ...

I always thought it could be like this...

I always knew it could be like this...

His eyes flick back and forth across my face... taking it all in... and I see things in the way he looks back at me... see things I’ve never seen before... and things I’ve seen since the first night we met...

I finally get it now. I fucking get it.

I don’t have to ask... don’t have to push... shouldn’t ever expect... or wish... or demand... try to force things to happen before they should... try to tell him how I want him to feel... what I want him to say...

Everything will happen... will... come... the way it’s supposed to... and... we’ll be together...

The way we’re supposed to...

His hand coasts up my back and his fingers thread into my hair... he pulls me to him... pressing his arm along my spine... his hand cupping my head... and... our lips touch...

A kiss...

Our kiss...

His hips rise beneath me... and he fills me even more... pushes inside my body... the intensity making me suck in a gasp of air... and I think of the intimacy... of... having him inside me... he relaxes... then pushes up into me again... I pull my lips from his... just barely... just enough to see clearly into his eyes... he slides away from the back of the couch and I unfold my legs and wrap them around his waist... pulling our groins together... he holds me up... hands on my ass...

Slowly we start... our... dance... our... conversation... our... nothing... our everything...

We move with each other... coming together... over and over and over again... the push/pull intensifying... it builds till there’s nothing but just this overwhelming sense of pleasure... he wraps his warm fingers around my cock... squeezing me... rolling his fingers... thumb slipping across my slit... and I rise and fall on his dick... riding him for all I can... my legs straining... my thighs burning... my feet wedged solidly between the cushions on the couch...

I want more of the pressure... more... he lifts his thighs up, driving his dick further inside me... I feel him twitching... feel him expand... oh fuck... that last second... when he gets so big... I clench my ass hard around him... he pulls me to him... holding me in his palm... and... it’s too intense... oh...

I grab his hair and kiss him hard... in that second... his cum spurts up inside me... held inside the latex... he sucks in breaths... and... so do I.... and then... oh God... ah... too much... I explode... short little gasps... and then I see my cum... dripping off his chest...

Don’t move... just stay here... his cock still inside me... not as much pressure... but I still feel it... still have that sense of intimacy...

It’s times like these when I feel closer than ever to him... I feel like I could never know anyone as well as I know him... that no one could ever know me as well as he knows me... that I could never, ever love anyone as much as I love him...

It’s times like these that... I wish we didn’t have to ever speak again... didn’t ever have to try and think of meaningless words to explain this feeling... to share how good this feels...

But...

I get it now...

And... I finally realize...

No words are necessary.

BRIAN’S POV

So... wake up...

Reach out my arm... fingers... feeling for... wanting...

Hunh? Where is he?

I sit up in bed, and see Justin at the end of it, tying up his shoes.

“Sorry... I tried to be quiet. I didn’t know what time you got up these days,” he looks at me over his shoulder, raising his eyebrow. Jesus, is it possible that he’s gotten even cockier? I lightly kick at his ass through the covers with my feet and glance at the clock. Christ. 8:30 already.

“Normally I’m awake by now,” I mumble, sliding my feet to the floor. “Just tired today, I guess.” I push my hands over my face and rub my eyes.

“It’s what happens when you get older,” he remarks, sticking his tongue in his cheek.

“Little shit!” I leap out of bed and grab the end of his scarf before he can run away. He starts laughing and I push him down to the bed, throwing my naked body over his clothed one.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going,” I growl at him, licking at his ear.

“Gotta go, Brian,” he turns his lips towards mine and we kiss... he tastes of peppermint toothpaste and smells like soap... mmmm... good...

“Tell me...” I pull my mouth from his. “What could possibly be more important than this?” Back to nibbling on his ear... waiting for an answer... the wool of his jacket scratching at my chest... my dick pressing into his jeans... breathing in the scent of his freshly washed hair brushing against the bridge of my nose... fuck... I want him to spend all day in bed with me... screw work or art projects or coffee with Daphne... whatever thing he thinks he has to do...

Nothing’s more important than this...

He sighs heavily, letting a low moan escape with his breath... got him... his fingers touch my back... stroking at my skin... feel the cuff of his jacket graze along my side and it gives me goosebumps...

Yeah... what could be more important than this?

“My future’s more important...” he says quietly, answering me.

I lift my head to look at him, and screw up my face. “Don’t be so melodramatic,” I start to kiss him, but he pushes at my shoulder.

“Brian... remember? I have to meet with the Dean in like, half an hour,” he lets go of my shoulder and I fall forward a little.

“Riiiiiiiggghht,” I moan. “I forgot today was judgment day.”

He rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

“It won’t be that bad. They’ll slap you on the wrist. End of story,” I roll off him and on to my back on the bed, feeling the mattress spring back as he stands up.

He stops for a second at the end of the bed, staring at me... “I hope you’re right, Brian.”

“I’m always right, you know that,” I prop myself up on my elbows, and he bends down and kisses me.

“Of course you are,” he grins into the kiss, then pushes away, and heads down the stairs. He stops for a second, then turns back to me. “Listen... if you’re not busy this afternoon... maybe we could meet for lunch or something?”

I nod. “Sure,” I flop back on the bed. I have one thing I have to do today – submit evidence. Fuck, it’s gonna be good to drop that into Horvath’s fat little fingers.

“Bye,” he calls out and I hear the door sliding shut.

“Good luck,” I know he can’t hear me... in fact I don’t want him to hear me. I don’t want him to know that there’s a tiny part of me that thinks he needs the luck to get through this.

Don’t get me wrong... I know that Justin is an excellent student and that quite frankly, PIFA is lucky to have him. It’s just that I don’t put it past Vance to extend the truth... to make what Justin did a much bigger deal than it was... I don’t put it past Vance to make sure he does everything he can to make that fucker Stockwell happy. Considering he threw me out on my ass... me - his fucking partner... I have no doubt that he’d try and fuck up Justin’s life too.

I reluctantly climb out of bed and pull on my track shorts and sneakers. Just need to exercise to wake up. Just need to keep moving... can’t stop... not for anything... if I stop, I get lazy. If I get lazy, I’ll lose.

It’s all about momentum. And maybe that’s why I’m suddenly so focused on nailing Riekart. On getting him to admit that he did what he did. That he killed Jason Kemp. If it’s the last fucking thing I do, I’ll get him. Have to keep moving. Just keep moving.

Finish my run on the treadmill, have a shower and get dressed... pull all my shit together and head over to the cop shop.

I walk around the desks, heading towards Horvath’s office... familiar with the layout more from watching TV than from experience... though... I’d be lying if I said I’d hadn’t been here before.

Jumble of memories... being dragged here as a kid with my mother, getting Jack out of the slammer after a bar fight...

Then years later... sitting here waiting in a fucking state of panic... what was I, 16? That night me and Mikey were jumped behind the school and had the shit kicked out of us... fuck, Jack came in here, steaming, and picked me up by the collar... dragging me out to the car... reaming on me for not being a better fighter, a faster runner – even though I was the fastest runner in the school ... angry not that we’d been in a fight, but that we’d been caught by the cops. Angry that I hadn’t done a better job of defending myself. But he couldn’t know that Mikey panicked... couldn’t know that there were five of them and two of us... and that Mikey hid behind me as I took all the blows... screams of faggot and cocksucker and queer ringing in my ears... he couldn’t know that. He made me think about it as he drove off... leaving me on the sidewalk... leaving me to walk all the way home...

And even later... college years... getting busted one night at an illegal after hours sex club... some guy was sucking my cock and the lights flipped on... cops everywhere... couldn’t get out fast enough and ended up here...

Christ... maybe there have been a few times. Dragged in here last year even... after Mikey lost his temper with that cop... and then again... because of my fucking nephew and his lies...

I shake off the hazy memories and make my way to Horvath’s office. He’s on the phone, but hangs up quick when I wave the used condom in his face. He gives me all kinds of dirty looks... thinking somehow that I actually fucked the cop... Jesus fucking Christ, give me a break.

But then I start to get this bad feeling... like he really didn’t expect me to show up here with the evidence he asked for... like... he’d thought he’d given me a task that was impossible for me to complete... and now he’s standing here surprised that I had the fucking balls to do it.

Doesn’t know me very well... does he?

He’s staring at me and asking what he’s supposed to do with the cum-filled condom. As if he doesn’t fucking know that it’s hard DNA evidence... unquestionable evidence...

So I tell him I expect him to test it, to find out for sure... so he can stop calling the killer a “so-called cop” and start calling him by his real name. I drop the TV Guide on his desk... he picks it up, reading the name... Keith Riekart.

I see the shadow cross his face. He knows him. Horvath knows him well... I can just fucking tell. I push him for the info...

And then he fucking drops the bomb on me. Riekart and Stockwell were partners. This just got ten times easier and ten times harder all at the same time.

Now we hardly need proof. Now it’s so fucking obvious that he did it.

And now it’s going to be nearly impossible to get anyone to listen. To get any of these secret-code-abiding, God-fearing cops to do anything about it.

But... deep down, Horvath’s a good cop. He says he’s going to send it to the lab for testing and I believe him. I know the turnaround will be fast because we all want to know. I want my gut feeling confirmed that Riekart’s the one; Horvath clings to the slim hope that he’s not.

We make arrangements to meet later on in the day, after his shift. I glace at my watch and think about Justin... wonder how he’s making out at PIFA... wonder if he’s getting his own ass nailed to the wall.

I leave quickly, pushing out of the depressing office space and into the cold air... light a cigarette and watch the bustle of the streets... leaning back against the concrete pillar outside the station. Take in all the suits, clutching their briefcases... Christ, a few weeks ago, that was me... and at first I missed it.

Now I don’t miss it so much.

Don’t miss it at all... and that scares me... freaks me out, because I know I have to do something... just...

Don’t know what.

JUSTIN’S POV

Okay. I’ll be the first to admit it. I... well, I don’t really take being lectured very well. I mean, I’ve listened to a lot of shit in my life... people trying to tell me what they think is right for me...

My mom... dragging me to that fucking psychiatrist...

My dad... ragging on me about going to Dartmouth...

Nurses and doctors all telling me not to expect too much... not to hope that I would be the way I was before... before a fucking bat to the head changed my life forever...

Yeah, there’ve been lots of people there to tell me what they think about the things I’ve done. Decisions I’ve made. People to tell me that I was wrong. People to tell me what they think I should’ve done instead.

And I’ve never taken it well. Can’t keep my fucking mouth shut. Whether I was spouting off my “I like dick” speech, or telling my dad that I didn’t give a shit what he thought or just fucking proving to all those people who said I couldn’t do it that they were wrong by not only going to art school, but excelling at it...

This is no fucking exception.

I sit here. Twisting my thumbs together. Chomping down on the inside of my cheek to just fucking stop myself from saying anything... from making this already incredibly bad situation any worse...

Dean Anderson lists off the things they say I’ve done. And okay, I won’t deny that I fucked Brian and that I made the posters... but it’s... well, all in how you perceive it.

I try to get the Dean to listen to me, but of course, he’s not interested in hearing what I have to say... all he wants me to know is that he doesn’t care about me, or my situation. All he cares about is the reputation of the school. Which... as a fucking Dean of an art school, is a ridiculous thing in itself... I mean, you fill an institution with a bunch of creative young people and shit is bound to be disturbed. Things will happen that will make other people upset. It’s a fucking fact.

And Christ, all I’ve heard in my year here is about the goddamn reputation of the school. I even had a drawing of mine taken down at the last gallery showing because it was of two guys fucking. They said it was pornography... I said they were homophobes.

So I guess I’m getting a reputation for being a shit disturber around here. And now I’m just making it worse.

But it’s my mouth again, always getting the rest of me in trouble. It all comes down to the fact that I refuse to be a quiet little fag... I refuse to give up anything. I’ve given up too much already.

The Dean tells me that I have to appear before the disciplinary committee and apologize. Fucking apologize. That’s the same punishment they gave the guy that stole paint from the school for two years. The same punishment they gave to that chick last month that threatened to burn down her classroom.

This doesn’t sit right with me. Not at all. I ask him again... in disbelief... but he confirms it. And tells me that if I don’t apologize, I’ll be expelled.

Expelled.

Fuck.

“Nine a.m., Friday morning, Mr. Taylor,” he jots the time down in his notebook. “I’ll expect you here promptly.”

I open my mouth to say something, but sanity takes over and I close my mouth with a clack of my teeth. Breathe hard through my nose. Stand up. Turn around. Walk towards the doorway.

Don’t say anything... don’t say anything... don’t say anything...

Make it through the door and stand in the hallway... balling my hands into fists and whispering curses under my breath. I think I need to hit something. Hard.

Instead, I head to the art room. Gonna paint. Or draw. Or something. Gotta get this rage out some way. Gotta prove to myself that it’s all fucking worth it.

The studio is empty... most students are either doing their work term or studying for exams... lucky, I guess, because I’ve always preferred to work in solitude... or under Brian’s watchful gaze.

I pull out one of the easels and set it up, pressing flat a clean piece of paper on the board. Stare at it. Pick up a piece of charcoal.

Ahhhhh... the possibilities...

I waste away a couple hours, maybe more... watching as an image of Brian comes alive on paper... remembering him sleeping the other morning... remembering him... calm... quiet...

At peace...

Don’t even know how much time has passed until I hear someone clearing their throat in the doorway. My head snaps up and I do a double take... Brian on the paper... Brian in the doorway...

“Thought you wanted to meet for lunch?” he says, a sly grin on his face.

I start to tear the drawing off the board, careful not to rip the edges too much. “Sorry, Brian... just... got lost.” I roll it up and hold it tightly in my hand.

“Hmmm... yeah,” he says, sauntering into the studio. Seems bizarre to see Brian here at my school... and now it’s the second time in a week.

Fuck, he must be bored.

He runs his fingers over the sculptures and gazes at the images hung on the wall. There’s a couple of mine there, and I don’t think that he’d recognize my work... but my heart skips a beat when I see him stop in front of an abstract drawing I did... he studies it, rolling on his heels...

“I’ll just put this away and then we can go,” I say, holding up my drawing. I’m not done with it yet, and maybe I’ll finish it tomorrow. I’ve been coming in to the studio more, now that I’m living with Daph... I know she means well, but I need quiet when I want to concentrate... her mindless chatter results in me just getting frustrated and not producing anything worthwhile.

I head towards the lockers in the back room and spin the lock on mine, opening it up and slipping the drawing inside. Got a few pieces to work on in here. I stash away ideas and inspirations to go back to when I draw a blank. Which has been happening less and less now that I’m free to openly fantasize about Brian again.

“No rush,” I feel breath in my hair and Brian’s fingers curl around my neck... I let a grin spread across my face and I relax into his grip... shutting my locker and turning around to face him.

“What’re you doing...” I say slowly, watching as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

“C’mon Justin... haven’t you wanted to fuck in here?” he says, leaning in... his lips find my neck and my fingers grasp at his leather jacket...

I glance around the small space... filled with a row of lockers and art supplies.... “Never really occurred to me...”

“Well, occurred to me, right now,” he pushes me back against the locker with a muffled clang and presses his lips to mine... we kiss softly until he pulls away, grinning at me...

“Right here?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. He can’t be serious... I mean, what if someone comes? What if someone walks in on us... and finds me bent over with Brian’s dick buried firmly in my ass...

Oh Christ, that didn’t have the effect I wanted... instead of making me try and think rationally about this situation, my dick gets impossibly hard...

Brian’s fingers slip into the front of my pants... and then my button’s undone, I hear the zip of my fly going down... and... my dick’s trapped up in his fingers... and... he falls to his knees... and...

Then he’s going down on me...

Oh God...

Right here...

At first I feel that twinge of excitement of doing something in a place I shouldn’t be doing it... I mean, it’s one thing to do it at Babylon or the baths or a locked bathroom at Deb’s or Mel and Lindsay’s... or even in an alleyway off Liberty Avenue...

But... here... at my school... where there’s tons of people I know... and... and... teachers... and...

Oh... oh,oh,oh,oh... hmmmmm.... uh....

Coherent thought... is... ... ... gone...

Succumb... to the ecstasy...

My gaze falls down on Brian... his eyes closed... my dick... red and slick... sliding in and out of those beautiful lips... his fingers gripping my thighs... my hands on his shoulders... and...

Fuck... I feel so... inspired... want to remember the way he looks...

Always...

Oh... I cover my mouth with my hand... pushing out hard breaths... tip my head back... and...

Cumcumcumcumcum... cummmmmm.... cummmmmm... cummmm... fuck... oh... God...

He releases my dick from his mouth and tucks me back into my pants... zipping me up... I’m paralyzed... just... can’t move... for a second...

He stands up... pressing me back against the lockers as if he knows I’ll crumple to the floor if he lets go...

“Mmmmm.... uh...” I try to speak, but nothing’s coming out...

He gives me that lopsided grin. “Yeah,” pecks me lightly on the lips and grabs my hand, pulling me out of the locker room. “Let’s go get some lunch.”

I’m on such a high from the amazing head he just gave me that for the entire drive to the diner, I completely forget all about my meeting with the Dean... I just stare at the side of Brian’s face while he’s driving and babble on about drawing, and the comic and I don’t know what the fuck...

But once we’ve parked and get out of the car, Brian asks me how the meeting went, and the anger hits me all over again. I tell him what the Dean wants me to do – apologize... and I wait for Brian to confirm how I feel... wait for Brian to get angry too...

But instead... he... well, he says a bunch of stuff that makes sense... and... convinces me that I should apologize. Not for them... for me, he says. And that fucking really makes sense in the way that only Brian can make things make sense for me.

Besides... what other choice do I have? None, if I want to remain a student at PIFA. And I do.

We eat a late lunch and Brian tells me that he’s meeting with Horvath later on. It’s weird to see Brian so wrapped up in something that really doesn’t involve him. I mean, yeah, if all this shit about Riekart and Stockwell and their connection with Jason Kemp’s murder comes out in the open, there’s no way Stockwell will win the election, and it’ll definitely be big payback for Brian... but I never pictured Brian as the revenge type...

... then I remember a little story I heard about a certain judge that had to have skin grafts on his ass after an unfortunate run in with a sticky toilet seat...

And yeah, okay... I guess maybe I could see it.

“What’s the smirk for?” he asks, catching me grinning at the thought of Brian carefully pouring glue on a toilet seat...

“Nothing,” I shrug. He rolls his eyes at me and pushes his empty plate away.

“So... Babylon tonight?” he sips at his mug of coffee, watching me over the rim.

I shake my head. “Sorry, have a date with Rage and JT.” I check my watch. Damn, nearly 4:00 already. I sling my bag over my shoulder and start to slide out of the booth. “And before that I have to do laundry. And think about how I can apologize to the disciplinary committee and save face all at the same time. It’s just so much fun being me right now,” I groan, leaning over to kiss Brian on the cheek.

His fingers snake up around my wrist and hold me there. “I thought I had a date with JT,” he says quietly, hazel eyes looking at me... and I know he’s kind of kidding, but not exactly... he can’t hide that look of... disappointment... hiding behind his gaze... he starts rubbing the inside of my wrist with his thumb...

He couldn’t be disappointed... could he?

“Well...” I feel a goofy grin start on my face, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop it. I don’t want Brian to know that he’s making me feel... well...

... goofy...

He pulls me closer to him and kisses me... not just a peck... not just a see-ya-later kiss... not even just a hey-you-look-hot kiss... more like a come-over-later-and-I’ll-fuck-your-goddamn-brains-out kiss... tongue pushing into my mouth and lips covering mine and breathing heavier and the taste of coffee and French fries... and...

Wow...

“You know you can always bring your laundry to the loft,” he says, breaking the kiss and pressing his lips to mine... and... now I’m just about going to lose it... because... well, fuck, he’s offering to have his cleaning lady do my laundry and somehow it’s just about the most fucking romantic thing I’ve ever heard in my life...

“Hey!” Debbie’s screech breaks through my reverie and stops me just as I’m nearly about to push Brian back in the booth and ride his cock right here.

My head snaps back and I feel her behind me. I stand up straight and Brian releases his grip on my wrist... my cheeks are flushed and I have a rock in my pants and I know I am so fucking busted...

“Get a fucking room, boys,” she says, snapping her gum and winking at me.

As much as I really, really, really don’t wanna go... I know I should. Michael will be waiting for me soon and I should really put in an appearance with Daph... I mean, I do live there... sort of.

“Call me later,” I tell him, the warmth in my cheeks still persistent. It’ll take the brisk walk home to cool me down from that kiss. “I can probably brush off Michael early – he and Ben are so focused on that kid anyway.”

I let my words trail off... he doesn’t say anything... just keeps staring at me... a little smile on his lips... I take a few steps towards the door, and his eyes follow me... he twists around in the booth and leans his chin on his arm, watching me... until I finally break his gaze and head out into the cold air.

Fuck... I’m so in love, it’s stupid.

But... I wouldn’t change it for anything.

Fucking anything.

BRIAN’S POV

*sigh*

I turn back around in the booth, and stare at the place where he just was. Fuck, I’m pathetic.

I know he has a life. And just because I have nothing better to do... doesn’t mean that he doesn’t.

Deb slides into the seat across from me, dissolving my vision of Justin sitting there. She’s grinning at me... this huge smile that busts her face apart. Her eyes are all crinkled up in the corners and she’s cracking and popping her gum at a record pace.

“What?” I ask her, knowing damn well what’s coming.

She smacks me on the arm. “Aw... you,” she shakes her head, smiling and smiling...

I twist around and put my feet up on the seat beside me. “Whatever,” I say, but... for some reason I have to cover my hand with my mouth... have to cover... a smile that wants to leak out...

Her warm hand touches my arm softly, and pulls my fingers away from my face. “Brian, honey...” she stops and shakes her head again. I can’t stop smiling and I just feel so fucking good... even though my whole fucking world should be falling apart... no job... no prospects...

But... maybe my priorities are... starting to change...

She squeezes my arm and looks at me. "Just let it happen,” she says and slides out of the booth, heading to the counter to pick up her next order.

Well, fuck me... as unlikely as it seems... she does know when to stop.

I toss some bills on the table and head over to the comic shop for a bit... dunno know why but it always makes me feel good just sitting there among all those racks of cheap paper. And I need a diversion until Horvath comes along.

Me and Mikey talk for a bit and I rip through a couple issues of the newest Spiderman till it’s ready for him to close up shop and meet Justin for their meeting. By the time I head back over to the diner, Horvath’s waiting for me already and I catch him just before Deb starts to ream into him...

... but by the time we’re finished talking, I’m ready to rip him a new asshole myself. He tells me that I was right... that Riekart was the last one to fuck Jason Kemp. That the sperm samples match.

And then he tells me it’s not enough to re-open the case.

Not fucking enough.

It’s crazy... fucking crazy... and I get even more pissed off because I get that feeling... that... NOT FAIR feeling that I’ve gotten far too many times in my life...

That feeling that... if I wasn’t queer... if Jason Kemp wasn’t queer... there would be no issue. The case would be re-opened and the killer convicted.

But no... I’m a fag, and Jason was a fag, and Riekart is a fag, and this whole fuckin’ business is just too much for this old cop. For his old establishment. Which includes fag haters like his boss Stockwell.

And I suddenly realize that nothing... no evidence would ever be enough. The only thing that would be enough would be that fucker Riekart crawling in on his hands and knees screaming out a confession.

I stare at Horvath for a long minute... my eyes flicking across his wrinkled face... searching for some sense that he knows that he’s wrong... that he knows he’s being homophobic and hypocritical and just plain spineless for not doing what he should be doing... for not being a good cop and tracking down this killer...

For not being a fucking decent human being and giving Jason the respect he deserves... for not trying to reconcile what happened to him...

For not just letting him be forgotten...

That would have to be the worst thing... to be dead... and...

Forgotten.

I snatch the report out of Horvath’s hand and blindly storm out of the diner... the cold air smacking me on the face...

Pace back and forth on the slippery sidewalk... fucking needing... to... do something...

Needing to make this right.

I have to make it right. For me, for Jason, for Justin, for every fucking queer in Pittsburgh. I need to do this.

Walk to the car and get in. Take a deep breath. Smoke a joint and don’t fucking care who sees me. Minutes pass... that turn into an hour...

And I’m ready.

Calm. Collected. Brian Kinney.

I drive to the bar... the place I know he’ll be. I find him. I go to him. I go to the truth. Because it ain’t gonna come to me.

Later... after Brian confronts Riekart...

Holy... fuck...

Swallow hard... deep breath... deep breath... deep breath...

Fuck... that was...

Was...

I slide onto the stool because my knees are perilously close to buckling beneath me... the bartender brings me another drink... I knock it back and it’s refilled without hesitation.

“That guy’s a fucking asshole,” the bartender mumbles to me, watching as Riekart walks out the door. “Hope he never comes back.”

I barely hear him... nod a little and hold onto my glass... slip the TV Guide into my pocket and stare at the photo of Jason Kemp... the image blurring as my shaking fingers hold it... I stash it safely inside my jacket.

Fuck.

I didn’t expect that to happen. Didn’t mean to just fucking lay everything out on the line like that... show every single card I had... reveal everything I had... expose my true intention...

But when I showed Riekart the photo of Jason... and that flash of recognition spilled across his face...

And when I tried to goad him on... and he fucking denied it...

I had to tell him what I knew.

Tell him that the cops found his load up the dead kid’s ass.

And then when he came at me... furious... acting guiltier than I could’ve ever imagined...

I had to give him my name... tell him who I am.

But then he tried to tell me I was wrong... wrong about who he was... I let him know that I knew exactly who he was... that I had his name, his address...

Fueled on by this quiet rage inside me... this smoldering burn... that was sparked by every word of denial from his lips... till it threatened to engulf me...

And that’s what made me go too far... shouldn’t have exposed Hunter... shouldn’t have put him at risk by telling Riekart that Hunter was the one that collected the evidence... but I had to push Riekart over the edge... had to let him know that he was fucking nailed...

That there was no more point in lying...

That he needed to confess...

That it was the right thing to do...

And that was what did it.

The defeat... the shame... that crossed his face...

I knew it... I knew I was right. I knew he did it. I knew it wasn’t all for nothing now.

We’d done what needed to be done.

And he’d do what he needed to do.

But still... I had to let him know... so the connection wouldn’t be lost on him... so he wouldn’t be lying in bed that night... cursing himself and me... wondering why the fuck some asshole named Brian Kinney would be out to get him...

No, I wanted him to make fucking sure that he told Stockwell that some asshole name Brian Kinney came to see him.

Selfishly or not, I wanted Stockwell to know what pushed his man over the edge. Who had the power to push his man over the edge.

I asked him... innocently enough... why he killed Jason... knowing that it had to be some kinky fuck gone wrong... maybe the kid choked on his cock... maybe he pressed his face too hard to the pillow... I started putting out these ideas, playing scenarios for him... revealing how much more I knew...

Inside his head... I could only imagine the nightmare that was playing itself over... and over... and over... again...

And I pushed harder... asked him if it was his idea or Stockwell’s... asked him whose idea it was to lie... to falsify what happened... to try and make it go away with lies and deception... if only Riekart would disappear...

If only the fag would... go away...

Hah... Riekart doesn’t realize... that Stockwell tried to make this fag disappear too.

But that ain’t gonna happen.

He looked so fucking guilty... so desperate... I knew that I had him... I knew he was mine now... that I could tell him exactly what I wanted him to do... I just kept talking and talking... I don’t know if the story I made up was close to the truth or not... but it freaked him anyway... I saw defeat in his eyes and...

Didn’t know if he was going to strangle me or walk away... I felt his rage and all I could do was shoot it back... keep the fear I felt inside buried way down...

But I had to do something. If the fucking system wasn’t going to help me... if Horvath was just going to keep pushing me away, over and over... even after I met every one of his demands - putting Justin in a shitty situation, and Hunter risking his fucking LIFE to get hard evidence...

I just figured that if none of that meant anything... then I’d turn it around on them. Make the fucker confess to what he did - expose himself. And maybe the publicity would come to bite Stockwell in the ass and everyone would see him for the fraud and fag-hater that he really is...

Thought maybe it would work...

Maybe it will work. That asshole shot outta here like his ass was on fire. Hope he’s running to confess right now... hope he’s on his way to doing the right fucking thing.

Because that’s suddenly become important...

Doing the right... fucking... thing....

I knock back the last of my drink and throw a twenty on the bar. I look around at this place... this sad, sorry place full of losers and fuck-ups... old men that have to pay for love...

I think about... what I have... waiting for me...

And resolve to never... ever... come back here again.

Next day...

So... wake up...

To an empty bed...

Missed Justin last night... I wanted to see him... really wanted to see him...

But my pride got in the way and when he called... long after his meeting with Mikey was over... telling me he was at Daph’s... with friends... I told him it was okay... told him to stay there... he sounded a little drunk and I could hear voices and laughing in the background...

He should be there... having fun and being with his friends...

Doesn’t need to get sucked up into my misery...

Wait a second... let me change that. I don’t need to be miserable... don’t need to let last night get me down.

Just have to wait and see what today brings... who knows? Maybe Riekart took the bait and confessed? Maybe...

I climb out of bed and walk around the loft naked. Sit down on the chaise and smoke a cigarette... close my eyes and think of warm summer afternoons and me and Justin lying here... feeding each other ice cream... think of the last time and the amazing head he gave me... his cold, sticky lips wrapping around my cock... rivulets of melted ice cream dripping down my balls...

Fuck, I missed him last night.

I climb out of the chaise and flick on the coffee pot, searching the cupboards for something to eat. Gotta remember to pick up some groceries later on. The phone rings and I check the call display before answering it...

Hmph. Interesting. Stockwell’s office. Didn’t take too long for that to happen, now did it? What was it.... 12 hours? Awesome, Kinney.

Of course, I’m not going to give him the privilege of actually speaking with me... I let my voicemail kick in and wait for the light on the phone to blink to say I have a message, then punch in my code and listen. Stockwell’s secretary requesting a meeting with me and her boss, asking that I make an appearance at his office this afternoon. I delete the message quickly, banging down the phone hard.

Fucker. Like I have anything to say to him. I pace around the loft for a minute then pull on my gym shorts and track shoes and get on the treadmill.

Moving... moving... moving...

Run hard for forty minutes, loving the feel of the blood rushing through my veins... the feeling of oxygen pushing into my lungs... sweat dripping down my face and chest... streaking down my back...

Makes me feel alive and powerful...

And ready.

Don’t call him back, just get in the shower and throw on a pair of jeans and a sweater. Don’t bother to put on business attire... don’t bother to put on the face I used to wear... my business face... all smiles and compliments and knowing exactly the right thing to say...

Nah, time ol’ Jim got to meet the real Brian Kinney.

I saunter in, waiting outside the glass doors of his office as his secretary tells him I’m here. I watch as his head raises to see me... his eyes darken for a moment then go blank... he sends his flunkies out and I step in.

Small talk, then he starts in, telling me his news... actually thinking that I give a shit anymore. That I care that he’s gonna fucking win the election. Care that he’s gonna get everything that I helped him to get.

He asks me to sit down, but I refuse. Not gonna get lazy again. Not gonna fall prey again... let myself get blinded by possibility and power.

Finally he gets around to it. The reason he called me. The reason he pretends to have called me for anyway.

He starts laying on all this bullshit about regretting what happened and apologizing... and fuck, I can’t hear it. I keep bouncing on my toes because I want to hear what he has to say, but I’m fucking dying to ream into him... to tell him I think he’s a fucking asshole and a liar and a bigot and a two-faced bastard that wouldn’t be fit to run for class president, never mind Mayor.

But I don’t. Just shoot back the first words that drip onto my tongue... send retorts back at him, at which he laughs... pretends to laugh... humors me... sucks up to me...

I’m so fucking tempted to ask him if he’d like me to bend over so he can kiss my ass directly.

I ask him outright - push his bribe in his face, and let him know that I know what the fuck he’s really trying to do.

He gets up from behind his desk, approaching me. “I’m offering you a future,” he says.

Bounce, bounce, bounce... my hands are shaking in my pockets... I’m slicing into my thumb with my fingernail... anything... fucking anything to stop my anger from pouring out at him... like I’d fucking go back to Vanguard. Doesn’t anyone fucking know I’d never do that?

He comes a bit closer. “There’s a lot I can do, even more than before.”

I slow down, intrigued. “How’s that?” I ask, wary...

“You always wanted my backers for your client list,” he says, each step bringing him closer... each step making me hate him more... each step reminding me of the way he looked at me and Justin that night... “I can still deliver them... and now you can keep them all to yourself.”

And I stop...

Fuck... he’s offering me... something more... a life... a new life... what I wanted... what I always fucking wanted...

Make this worthwhile... make it... mean something...

I feel my face fall... suddenly everything becomes so still... all the jitters and rage and nervous energy dissipates... and... I feel...

Opportunity...

But...

Too late now... no turning back... right?

Split second... breathe in... breathe out...

I imagine Riekart on his hands and knees at Jim’s feet... begging him to get Brian Kinney out of his life... and I roll my lips into my mouth to hold back a smile...

Ah... power...

I might not have a job... might not have anything to do to fill my endless days... but...

I have power...

And I have self-respect.

Something neither Stockwell nor Riekart can claim to have.

Stockwell stands there... staring at me... thinking he’s got me... thinking... he’s won... that fucking false smile that I taught him, plastered all over his face.

“Actually, Jim,” I say, taking a step or two forward... he looks at me... fucking salivating... he thinks he knows me so well... thinks he’s pressed my buttons... thinks he’s got me where it matters...

“You can go fuck yourself,” I laugh a little crazily in his face and watch as his grin disappears... and that ugly scowl I worked so hard to get him to lose returns across his mouth... his eyes droop and his shoulders fall and... I feel like pointing at him and screaming you fucking hypocrite!

But instead I turn on my heel and walk out of there... pushing open the door so hard it bangs against the wall with a loud clang... don’t turn around again... don’t look back...

Know in my heart that I’m fucking proud... so goddamn pleased with myself...

Know that... I’m learning how good it can be... to do the right thing.

Next day...

So... wake up...

And feel warm... and realize... I don’t have to get out of bed this morning...

I roll onto my side, facing Justin... he’s curled up... his face tipped down... head resting on his arm folded up on top of his pillow... the sheets around his waist... his long hair falls across his face... balancing on the bridge of his nose... lips... parted... breathing softly...

Makes me feel so good... just to look at him...

I reach out to touch him... then stop... my hand paused in mid-air... I pull it back... slowly... and rest it on the small space between us...

And just stare... ... ...

And... everything is okay...

He made it okay again... calmed me down last night... made me realize that it wasn’t my fault... couldn’t have been my fault...

Made me realize that I did the right thing...

How important it is to keep doing the right thing...

He’s right...

Always right...

Fuck, last night I was... stunned, I guess... guilt just edging up around the corners of my consciousness... horrified at the news that Horvath had delivered...

That Reikart had hung himself.

That meant it was over...

But... not resolved. Never resolved.

And maybe it was my fault... my fault that he killed himself... my own words that drove him to that point... my... ego, my selfishness, my own sense of righteousness... my belief that he should confess...

The fucking nausea... and pain I felt in my stomach... rolling over and over...

Because I know that feeling... know that sense of utter loss... of self-hatred... of revulsion... that drives a man to do such a thing...

To kill himself...

Never had the balls to go through with it myself, mind you...

Not that I didn’t think about it...

Not that I didn’t try...

But... I’m not that person anymore...

Still... it brought back a myriad of sensations... emotions... pent up feelings I only ever barely shared with Mikey...

And Justin was here...

Fuck... maybe... I shouldn’t have...

Shouldn’t have talked to him... told him...

How much I hurt...

How much it scared me....

How much... I wished it wasn’t true...

And then the reasons I wished it wasn’t true... not all selfless ones... not all thoughts for Riekart and his family... what little he might’ve had...

Wishing he hadn’t done it...

Because now we’ll never know... never know what really happened...

And it made me feel even worse... worse for Riekart... worse for Jason Kemp... worse for me...

My only hope...

The one I hadn’t wanted in the first place...

Now gone...

Last night, after Horvath gave me the news, I walked blindly into Woody’s... sitting at the bar by myself... ignoring the taps on the shoulder... the guys sidling up to me... ignoring everything but the shrinking bottle of Jim in front of me...

Don’t really remember calling Justin... but do remember him coming into Woody’s... remember him pulling me into a cab with him... taking me home... stumbling up the few steps to the main entrance of the building... leaning against him in the elevator...

Too drunk... I fell into bed... and Justin just looked at me... rolled me a joint... listened while I told him...

Everything...

Not used to telling him everything...

Not used to sharing this stuff...

Relieving the pain inside... by... spreading it around...

But soon the horror subsided....

And the guilt dissipated...

And I sank into the sheets... letting him kiss the pain away... his mouth on my cock till nothing else mattered... then we fucked... and everything else mattered even less...

Made me realize how good it was that he was here...

And it was all okay...

Now... lie here beside him and look at this face that I know as well as my own... stare at the long blond lashes hiding those knowing blue eyes within... watch his back rise and fall... the smooth skin beckoning to me... the curve of his ass hidden beneath the sheet... taunting me... daring me... to touch...

I hold my hand out again... and don’t touch... just let my skin hover over his... run my palm so close over his body... feel the warmth between us...

His eyes open slowly and he turns his lips up into a lazy smile.

“You watching me?” he says... knowing I’m not going to answer. He rolls completely onto his stomach, grunting softly. “What time is it?” he asks, clearing his throat.

I take a deep breath, and pause before answering. “You have to be somewhere?”

He smiles a little and shakes his head

“Then it doesn’t matter, does it?” I say into his ear as I climb on top of him... sliding my knees on either side of his... holding myself up over him... my palms pressed to the bed beside his chest.

“Hmmmm...” he sighs through his nose. “Nope.”

I lower my dick to his back slowly... I’m getting hard just looking at him... anticipating him... I run my cock across his skin... leaving a thin trail of pre-cum behind...

“Good,” I whisper into his hair, leaning over him... pushing my nose into the back of his neck... I suck in a deep breath... smell the sweat of last night’s fuck dried on his skin... my tongue glides out to lap at his neck... taste the saltiness... the warmth...

He smiles and puts his hands under his head, beneath the pillow... wriggles his ass a little, coaxing my dick farther down...

But I have other ideas...

I kiss him softly... trailing my lips down his spine... touching my tongue out... licking him... then wet kisses... tasting my cum on his skin...

He sighs... his chest filling with air... and he lets his breath out slowly... his back contracting beneath my lips as the air escapes his throat... he doesn’t move hardly... just lies so still...

I slide further down his back... climbing down his body... till my lips find the crack of his ass... and I lap out with my tongue to spread my saliva on him...

He shivers beneath my touch... I watch as tiny goosebumps form on his skin... I breathe on him... hotly... open mouthed breath to warm him... press my cheek to one of the round globes of his ass... feel him starting to shake a little...

“You okay?” I whisper...

“Fuck... yeah...” he says back... his voice rough in his throat. “Just...” he breathes out...

I wait for him to tell me... run my fingers along the inside of his thigh... his legs part just the tiniest bit...

“Just been a long time...” he finally says... his voice muffled at the end as if he’s burying his face in a pillow.

I know he doesn’t want to say more, and I don’t want to hear more, honestly. Don’t want to think about how there’s recent months of his life that I don’t know about... wasn’t a part of... have no right to ever know about... don’t want to think that... there was a time that he wasn’t getting the things he wanted and needed... when I was here... wanting and needing to give them to him...

Can’t dwell on that shit...

Not when he’s in my bed right now...

“It’s been too long,” I say, brushing my lips against his skin as I speak, then darting my tongue into the top of his crack quickly.

He sucks in air and then laughs a little. “Jesus, Brian... you love torturing me, don’t you?”

I run my tongue along the crevice of his ass... not dipping in, just letting my wet tongue glide across his skin. He moans a little, wriggles a bit beneath me. Pull his cheeks apart... see his pink hole... welcoming me... begging for me... twitching... he knows what I’m going to do... knows how good it’s gonna feel...

Press my face into his crack... opening my mouth over his hole... smelling him everywhere... that musky warm smell of him... sucking in big lungfuls of his scent... my tongue slowly reaches out... I let a drop of spit slide from my mouth... and down my tongue... to drip on his hole... he gasps a little, then deeper as I touch him lightly... a quick lap of his skin... a brush of me to him... 

He whimpers quietly... he’s right, I love torturing him... making him wait... let him revel in that tense cushion when you want it so bad you can almost feel it... but knowing that as much as you want it right now... as much as you imagine you feel it... it’s nothing compared to how good it’s gonna feel when it actually happens...

But now I’m just torturing myself by making me wait... so I flatten my tongue and... mmmm... just press my tongue to his ass... licking him lightly... spreading my saliva all over him... he lets out his breath with a little laugh... pushing his ass just the tiniest bit off the bed...

Hmmm... love this... fuck... so good... tasting him... salty and a hint of latex from our fuck last night... I rub my tongue over his hole, back and forth, pressing on him hard... creating a friction between us that I know will drive him crazy...

Fuck... fuck... fuck... I hear him whisper with every breath... don’t stop... don’t stop...

I have no plans to... I keep up the back and forth movement, but start narrowing my focus until I’m concentrating on that tiny bud, my tongue flicking fast across his skin, dipping inside and tasting him again... a rich, warm flavour that spreads across my tongue... I pull his cheeks apart even wider, opening his hole, letting my tongue run rings just inside him...

He pushes his ass up into my face, and I slide my tongue up and out of his crack... I sit up and grab his hips, pulling him up to his knees... he presses his face into the pillow, letting me move him around... he’s so relaxed, his limbs are loose and supple...

His cheeks are spread wide apart, and I lick him from balls to asshole... my tongue wide and flat... he moans in appreciation and I do it again... and again... suck on his hole, then lick him again... and again... till his fingers creep up to his dick and I catch him starting to jerk himself off... I grab him by the wrist and pull his fingers away, flipping him over onto his back... climb between his legs and take his cock into my mouth quickly... hearing him gasp as I do... pull his thighs over my shoulders and lift his hips... slide my finger into his asshole...curving my finger just right and going down on him at the same time...

Fingers in my hair... coaxing me on... every breath from his lips brings with it a cry... and I finger fuck him and suck him until I feel his ass clench on my finger tightly... almost imagine that I feel his body temperature rise... and I bob my head faster on his cock until I hear him breathing harder and harder... gripping fistfuls of my hair... legs press down on my shoulders... and then... ahhh... the warm, sweet release of his cum in my mouth...

“God... Brian...” he sighs... releasing tufts of my hair from in-between his fingers... I slowly release his cock from my lips... licking off every drop of cum... I rest my head on the inside of his thigh... breathing deeply... letting the flavour of him settle in my mouth... I lick my lips and hold the taste on my tongue...

His hand closes around my wrist and he pulls me up to rest beside him on the bed... I roll onto my side and stare at him... he grins a little and closes his eyes... his fingers trailing up my arm... across my chest... down my stomach... soft strokes with the pads of his fingers... brushing in the downy hair on my skin...

He nestles closer and puts his hand on my shoulder, pushing me over onto my back... he climbs up on top of me... his dick and balls resting on my stomach... his pubes tickling me a little... he bends over and kisses me... a deep... invading kiss... licking my mouth... sucking on my tongue... I push my fingers through his soft hair... feeling big chunks of it slide across my palms... our noses pressed together... breath pushing hard from him into me and back into him...

“Hmmm... I love the way I taste on you...” he pulls away just barely to say... his voice is rough... deep... he’s using words to make me crazy... 

Then his mouth is back on mine again... he whimpers a little in his throat... even though he just came... he’s not satisfied yet... wants something more yet...

I push myself up on my elbows... our mouths clinging together with kisses... roll him over onto his back... he falls onto the mattress with a grunt, and I settle between his legs... our dicks bumping together... his - slick and hot... not quite hard again... mine - rock solid... aching... throbbing...

Grab his calves and pull them over my shoulders... going for a deep fuck... going for intensity... he reaches over and grabs a condom from the side table... tears the top off with his teeth and pushes out the latex ring... deftly sliding it on my dick like he has a thousand... no... a million times before...

His touch feels good... thumb and forefinger... sliding down around my cock... there’s always been something that just fucking turns me on about him rolling a condom on my dick... the light touch... the way his tongue slips out his lips... the way he presses his thumb against my balls at the end...

He lies his hands out on the bed and tips his hips up, rocking a little... I put my dick at his hole and ease inside him in one swift movement... fuck, yeah... he takes me inside him... opening up to take me, then tightening his ass around my cock as I reach as far as I can... sending a rush of pleasure through my entire body...

Watch at the moment of penetration... as his mouth drops open in a gasp... his eyes roll up into his eyelids... head tips back on the pillow... then the slow grin spreads across his face... the moment of pain gone... and replaced with... something so much better...

I put my hands over his arms... holding him to the bed... trapping him beneath me... we start to rock together... every time I slide inside him... his dick is pressed against his taut belly... pushing up against the skin... leaving a shiny trail of pre-cum in it’s wake...

Release his arms... and then his hands are in my hair... pulling me to his mouth... clamps his lips on mine and we kiss... every push inside him presses more air out of his lungs... comes whooshing out with every fuck... and he pulls another shallow breath inside...

His feet are crossed behind my head... holding me to him... pull away from his mouth... just to catch my breath...

Deeper.... he whispers... fuck me deeper...

Christ... his words send a shiver through me that I feel in my balls... he tips his hips up... clasping his fingers behind his thighs to hold his legs up... baring everything... I slide up the bed and push down into him hard...

He pulls a great gust of air into his lungs... making a sound as it passes his throat... arches his neck back on the pillow... holds me tightly inside him... I pull out and I do it again... making him cry out... then I do it again... and... and... oh fuck... I think I’m gonna cum... his ass clenches around me... my arms shake with the intensity... he looks so fucking sexy... sweat beading across his forehead... eyes closed in rapture... lost in the pleasure...

Do it again... he whispers... and I oblige... but before I can start the slow pull out... he grabs my ass and pushes me into him again... holding me there... starts rocking beneath me... fuck... ah... I’m trapped inside him... can only move enough to take short tiny thrusts... but it’s so deep... so far... I fear I’ll split him open... but still he begs me for more...

His cock touches my stomach... my quaking muscles quivering against the wet tip... his fingernails dig into my ass and he holds me inside him... and pushes me still... watch as his face squeezes up tight... feel his body tense... and... ah ah ah... oh... his warm cum spurts up against my stomach... he's gasping beneath me... barely able to breathe with his chest bent nearly in half... ah... ah... and there...

I touch our faces together at my last second... the warm squish of his cum caught between us... and I let go... a wondrous long orgasm... that keeps going and going... until I’m spent... and release his legs... falling between them... my dick sliding from his hole...

Try and catch my breath... feel my heart fluttering in my chest... beating erratically... uncontrollably...

He presses his hands to my back...

And... then I feel okay... normal... like I used to... realize that these days I only ever feel normal around him...

He gives me some semblance of my life before... before I got involved with things I had no right to... before I got so goddamned self-fucking-righteous... before I actually started caring about things like the community and other people...

Before... I lost my job...

Before... he left me...

But he’s back now... and if we can lie here in this bed and pretend that none of those things happened... if we can lie here and get lost in pillows of ignorance and orgasms...

Even for a few hours...

I’ll take it.

Next day...

JUSTIN’S POV

Oh... FUCK!

I wake up with a start and my heart starts pounding... it’s almost 8:30 and I have to be at PIFA at 9:00 to meet with the disciplinary committee...

Frantic... I roll off the hide-a-bed and practically run into the shower, scrubbing shampoo into my hair and lathering up with Daph’s liquid soap, trying to wash away the smell of my night at Babylon... a mix of cigarettes, dry ice, cum and latex...

Get out of the shower and throw on a sweater and jeans... quickly rubbing the towel over my hair while I struggle with socks and shoelaces... 

Christ, I can’t believe I’m almost late. I deliberately came here last night instead of going to the loft because I KNEW if I went home with Brian, we'd fuck all night. And I’d be late.

Instead, I came here horny and lonely and jerked off on this stupid, uncomfortable hide-a-bed. And still I’m fucking late.

I burst out the front door and jog to campus... trying not to bail on the slushy sidewalks... cold air burning into my lungs... finally get to the school and run up the stairs to the boardroom... stopping to catch my breath outside... check the clock... not a fucking minute to spare to breathe...

I stand up straight and brush my hair back out of my face, then step into the open doorframe. They’re all sitting there... staring straight ahead and waiting for me. The Dean clears his throat and spares a glace to either side of him at the other members of the committee... almost as if to say, see? I told you he was trouble.

“Good morning, Mr. Taylor,” Dean Armstrong says, pointedly looking at his watch. “I’m glad you could make it this morning.”

Fuck... this is going to be hard...

“Of course,” I say, walking into the room, trying to project a confidence that I really don't feel. I sit down at the table across from the committee and I’m relieved that none of my teachers are in attendance. Bad enough I have to kiss ass... but I’d really prefer that no one I really know has to see it.

My heart has finally stopped pounding from running all the way here, but now I get a wicked nervous feeling in my stomach... I’d been so freaked about getting here on time, I hadn’t had a chance to go over what it was that I was going to say... so... I go with simple.

I start in with the apology... trying not to fiddle with my fingers... trying to sound appropriately remorseful...

Trying to remember what Brian said... why I need to do this... why it’s important...

Finally I get through it, avoiding eye contact with any of them... keeping my voice soft... hoping I sound sincere... hoping that they don’t notice that I never actually apologize for the things I did... never once express regret for my actions... just tell them that if they didn’t like it then I was sorry they felt that way...

When I'm finally finished, they all look at one another and seem satisfied enough. Dean Armstrong tells me that they accept my apology, laying in a little dig at me in the meantime, but I grit my teeth and swallow a remark as he says it.

Almost done... I keep saying over and over in my head... then this will be over and done with and I can get on with my fucking life and art career.

But then he drops a fucking bomb on me... and tells me that there’s more I have to do...

The words tumble out of my mouth before I can even think about what I’m saying.

That seems to be happening to me a lot more these days...

“No,” I say.

Dean Armstrong stops his glass in mid-air. Eyebrows raised. “Did you say something?” he asks, staring at me as if to say... you have one chance to take it back...

But I bit my tongue too many times. Held back what I wanted to say over and over.

And I can’t do it again.

“I won’t do it,” I say, with probably more conviction than I have ever felt about anything in my entire fucking life. “I will not apologize to Stockwell.”

What the fuck could I say to that bastard? Sorry I’m a queer? Sorry you fucking hate my guts? Sorry you want me dead? Fuck that! I almost WAS dead because of people like him, and I will never, ever let myself be treated like anything less than I am. I’ve given up far too much to ever let that happen.

The dean tells me I have no choice, and...

I’m off.

Fuck holding back and biting my cheek and not saying what I really think. He... he fucking can’t tell me that. Can’t tell me I have no choice. This is a fucking school! This is supposed to be a place of learning, and education, and... of acceptance and fucking tolerance... and...

Not a place of hate.

Because to tell me I have no choice... is... wrong.

I fucking let go... the little censor inside me screaming at me to just fucking shut up and write the goddamn letter, but there’s no way... no fucking way...

I let him know what I really think... and when I try to list off things... legitimate reasons why I will never apologize to that homophobic bastard... he cuts me off and says... that it’s not about me being gay....

And...

Yeah... he’s right... it’s not about being gay. It’s about... being human. Being treated with respect. And equality.

And I’m not being given that right. That basic... human... right.

I tell him how he’s wrong to take away my right to choose... my right to speak out about something that I think is so inherently wrong.... but he hears none of it.

But I refuse. I absolutely refuse.

I will never, ever apologize to Stockwell.

Never apologize for what I believe in.

For who I am...

Not when all I can see...

Is.... that.... look on Stockwell’s face... the way he looked at me every time he saw me...

Like he fucking knew I was queer... and he hated me.

First time he laid eyes on me I was working at Vanguard. He stormed into the boardroom, interrupting me and Brian... busting my high after Brian asked me out for dinner - almost a date - Stockwell looked at me like I was nothing... like I didn’t matter. The way he treated Brian then, too... I didn’t like it.

Second time was when I was standing up proud. Putting the fucker in his place at the GLC. Calling out names of people who died on his watch... people who he owed more than a cursory glance to. I saw the hatred in his eyes that day... the way he looked at me... again, like I was nothing.

But the worst... the fucking worst time I saw him face to face was at the loft. When I was bare... exposed... had nothing to hide behind... I was naked and raw in front of him... and Brian was too... and together... we... were...

Humiliated.

By him...

And Brian... was crushed... ruined...

And I felt sick... dizzy... horrified...

The way he looked at me...

Like I was less than him...

Like... I... wasn’t deserving... of... his... time...

I swallow hard... trying to keep the anger inside me...

“Well, Mr. Taylor... then I have no choice but to suspend you,” Dean Armstrong says, clearing his throat.

I suck in a breath... a huge FUCK YOU!! ready to burst from my lips...

But... I let the air from lungs out again... slowly....

Calm...

What I learned from Brian...

Calm...

“I’m sorry to hear that, Dean,” I push back in the chair and stand up. “I sincerely hope you change your mind.”

I turn around and head for the door. Then stop.

“And you do have a choice.” I turn around and say to him. “Just like I have a choice right now... to either keep my self-respect... or lose it for something I don’t believe in. And nothing is worth losing my self-respect over.”

I walk out the door.

Shaky... fucking... scared shitless...

I just threw out everything I worked for. Just gave up those countless hours... of... agonizing pain... my gimp hand screaming at me to stop... and... me... never giving up...

Because I had to get through it... I had to go to school...

Oh... God...

My stomach churns... my heart pounding in my ears... 

Oh...

God...

I stumble down the front steps.... holding on to the wall... dizziness circling me... my eyes feeling crossed and the stairs doubling before my eyes... crumple to the front steps... sitting down... ignoring the passersby... ignoring the chatter... the... mindless gossip and unending stomp of footsteps on the stairs...

Pull out a cigarette... fingers... shaking... get a screech of pain in my right hand as I try to flick my lighter... like a fucking reminder of what I just flushed down the toilet...

And yet...

I had a choice... and I made my choice.

And... I wouldn’t have chosen any other way.

I know I wouldn’t take back those posters for anything.

I know I wouldn’t take back my words at the GLC.

I know I wouldn’t take back... one single emotion or thought...

Wouldn’t change a single thing... if I had the chance...

And I did have the chance.

And I feel so goddamn good that I didn’t take it.

That I made the right choice.

Later that night... after Brian and Justin get wasted at Woody’s...

BRIAN’S POV

“Brian... I’m way too drunk to fuck,” he moans... laughing in my arms... eyes closed...

“No such thing...” I say, but I know he’s right. Even I’m too drunk to fuck.

Don’t know exactly how we got so fucking drunk... seemed like... I met Justin at Woody’s... and... we were talking... and we had a couple of drinks... then... there were tequila shots... and then more... and then... even more... feeling sorry for ourselves... toasting each one of the things that was fucked up in our lives...

Laughing at ourselves... for being so pathetic...

I remember kissing him... actually... more like seriously making out with him like we were a couple of fucking teenagers or something... until... oh yeah... I tried to sit him up on the wooden bar to suck his dick and the bartender freaked on me...

Remember laughing our fucking heads off... remember... going to the bathroom... and... did we fuck in the stall?

Christ... how many tequila shots ago was that...

I barely get the loft door shut, the metal suddenly getting way too heavy... and the room tilting at this really funny angle....

“Brian!” he yelps, and suddenly we’re not standing up anymore... suddenly we’re both on the ground... and he’s laughing and laughing... I moan... and start laughing too... thank God I’ve got those cushions there...

“Oops,” I snort, rolling onto my back, and he slides between my legs, curling up, his head on my chest.

“Tired,” he says, the last giggles leaving his body. He sighs loudly, and snuggles into me.

“Hm,” I say back. Me too.

“Good here,” he whispers.

I nod even though nobody can see me. “Hm,” I say again. Yeah, it is. I close my eyes to stop the room from spinning and pet the hair on the back of his neck.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbles.

“Hm,” I mumble back. I won’t.

There’s this silence then... just his breathing... just my breathing... filling the loft...

Suddenly out of nowhere, I get this clarity... like... everything’s suddenly come into focus... the last month has come into focus...

Must be the fucking cheap tequila...

It’s like... POW! in the side of the head... and...

Christ, I realize that I’ve just been... floating... coasting... going along with it...

I hadn’t really given it much thought - serious thought anyway... I mean, the feelings and insistence to think about it were there... but I’d been able to fill my head with other things... push it aside... not dwell on it...

But the fact of the matter is... he’s back here with me again... here in my home... here in my arms...

Just... here...

And I’ve admitted my defeat to him... I’ve admitted in a thousand ways... admitted that... I want him here... in my life...

And that I want to be with him... in his life...

Christ... who the fuck knows what the future holds... there are so many possibilities... so much we could do...

My thumb slides across his hair... and I get this weird feeling right in the center of my chest... such an unusual feeling... and like nothing that I can identify...

And it’s thinking about him... and a future... that does it... makes the feeling intensify... like a warm ball in my chest... expanding... pushing inside me... not bad, just intense...

He stirs again and twists his head till he’s looking at me, blue eyes hazy with the liquor... hair falling into his face... I slide my arm beneath my neck to prop me up so we can see eye to eye.

“Am I too heavy?” he asks, his nearly dead weight spread out over my chest... his eyes slip closed as my fingers resume the soft petting of the back of his neck.

“Nope,” I whisper...

“Push me off if I get too much,” he says, sliding his cheek back to my chest.

No... fucking... way...

Tried that before, sonny boy... pushed you off and pushed you away a thousand times... and every time...

... you... just... kept... coming... back...

I don’t wanna push anymore... maybe I’m not ever gonna push anymore...

Maybe I can take it. Maybe I can hold you up. Maybe I can let you hold me up.

Maybe this is... finally... the right thing to do.

A tiny buzz whistles in my ears... his fingers slip from my side to the floor... he gets just the slightest bit heavier...

Buzz... ... buzzzzz... ... buzzzzzzzzzz...

He’s asleep in my arms... keep stroking his neck because it feels so good... hold him tightly to me because it feels so good...

Don’t have to worry...

Nobody’s going anywhere...

Fuck... he’s right.

It’s good here.