testdog65 (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} testdog65) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} qaf_challenges,@ 2006-12-31 18:53:00 |
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ALWAYS HAVE, ALWAYS WILL
It's always have and never hold.
You've begun to feel like home.
What's mine is yours to leave or take.
What’s mine is yours to make your own.
-Look After You by The Fray
"Hello, Brian, it’s been awhile. Have a seat."
The tanned, handsome man motioned to one of the chairs across from his desk. His jeans and simple gray sweater belied his profession. Keith Williams was out of his normal workday ‘uniform,’ having come into his office on a Saturday to meet with Brian. He learned years ago that Mr. Kinney was as elusive as a teenager at a Tupperware party. Unless Brian initiated the contact, Keith would never be able to pin him down on a weekday. "How have you been?” he asked as Brian extended his hand for the obligatory shake.
"Fine…busy…tired."
Brian looked irritated as he sat down. Upon hearing that last word, Keith looked up with concern. "Tired," Brian clarified, "because I’m very busy. That’s why I’m a little annoyed that you insisted I come here personally today, on a morning I could have been sleeping. Couldn’t this have been handled over the phone?"
"Yes, it probably could have but I make it a point to tell people things they don’t want to hear to their face. I looked this over, Brian," he nodded to the official looking papers on his desk, "and I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t concerned."
Brian heaved a sigh and shook his head. "Thanks but it’s unnecessary. I’ve thought it through…carefully…and I’ve made up my mind. I just need to know if I can trust you’ll follow through when it comes down to it."
"You know I will, but what about your son? How is he going to feel if you do this?"
"He’s seven, Keith." Brian emphasized Gus’s age as he furrowed his brow. "He doesn’t need to know right now and when the time comes that he does, he’ll be fine."
"You’re sure of that?"
"Positive."
"And this…Mr. Taylor? Does he know?"
"He will… soon enough."
"All right then,” Keith raised his hands up in resignation and let them fall to his desk,
“I just have one stipulation."
"And that is?"
"I meet with both of you first. Not that I don’t trust you won’t tell him, but this isn’t something he should have sprung upon him if you are incapacitated or…" he looked from his desk and directly at Brian, "worse. As far as the rest of your family goes, I’ll leave that up to you."
Brian pulled in his lips, looked down and nodded. "Okay, I’ll talk to him." He rose and once again extended his hand.
"Give me a call then?"
"Yeah." Brian broke the handshake, turned and headed out the door.
"Soon." He was already gone but Keith was fairly certain Brian had heard him as he looked back down at the papers and slowly shook his head.
****************************************
"The noon flight has been delayed, Mr. Taylor. If you’d like, I can see if they are still accepting passengers."
Justin had arrived at the airport well before his 2:45 flight and the thought of arriving early to surprise Brian delighted him.
"That would be great!" Justin said. It was obvious that the attractive female desk agent was flirting with him, and he would use any trick in the book if it would get him to Pittsburgh earlier. "That’s a beautiful ring you’re wearing."
"Oh, thank you," she replied. "It’s my birthstone."
"Scorpio?" he asked with a slight smirk.
"Well…yes."
"Me too." He blushed but continued, "I understand we make great lovers." He was so getting on this plane.
"I haven’t had any complaints yet," she responded coyly. "Is a middle seat okay?"
"Anything you’ve got is fine," Justin said, looking her up and down. He had never realized how easy it was to flirt with a woman.
Now she was blushing. "Is this trip for business or pleasure?"
He leaned in and answered her in a hushed, slow drawl, "Two days and two nights of un-pure pleasure."
"Mmm," Justin couldn’t tell if that was disappointment or intrigue, "lucky girl. If it doesn’t work out, give me a call." She was wrote her number on a post-it, attached it to his boarding pass and handed them both to him.
With it safely in hand, he just didn’t feel right continuing the charade. "Sorry, there’s no girl and I’m afraid there never will be." He smiled as the agent rolled her eyes and shook her head.
"Why are the hottest ones always gay?" he heard her call out as he turned and sprinted toward the gate.
****************************************
The older he got the more Brian hated cold weather. Every year it seemed to bring with it a host of bitter memories. As a kid it was the holidays with his family. Days that usually started out with promise, but evaporated as quickly as Jack and Joanie could drain a bottle of Seagram’s. It was always so fucking cold by the time he would eventually sprint to Mikey’s; tears - or even blood - crystallizing on his cheeks as he ran.
The cold weather also reminded him of the first time Justin left and of his cancer and Vic’s death. Fuck, the last time Justin left it was cold too. What the hell was he still doing in Pittsburgh nearly two years later anyway? He had the money, and there was nothing anchoring him here anymore. His son was in Canada and Justin was in New York.
Maybe that was why. It took exactly 1.3 non-stop hours to get from Pittsburgh to New York. 1.7 hours to 613 Seventh Avenue if he didn’t check any luggage, and usually about 1.9 hours to be buried balls deep in the sweetest piece of ass he had ever found. If he moved, he would pay for a warm climate in layovers, cancellations, and time. Precious time that there never seemed to be enough of anymore.
Brian glanced at his watch as he hurried down Liberty Avenue. Could he still duck into the diner for a cup of coffee? Just then the wind picked up and made the call for him. The brightly lit atmosphere, the warmth and the friendly familiar faces, even on a Saturday afternoon, the day before Christmas Eve, greeted him. Don’t these people have lives? he wondered as Deb’s voice rang out.
"What the fuck are you doin’ in here today? I thought Sunshine was in town."
Brian took a seat at the counter and smiled as she set the usual cup down in front of him and began to pour.
"Flight lands at four. I had a meeting."
"Well, I would say all work and no play makes Brian a very dull boy. But I’m sure you’ll be stocking up on your play quotient real soon."
Brian raised his cup as if to toast. "Hopefully," he said as he cocked his head.
"When are you going to convince that boy to come back home for good?"
"I’m not. He’s doing well there."
"I know," her tone had turned serious, "but…after all you two have been through, you deserve to be together."
"Life’s not fair, Deb, and we don’t always get what we deserve. You of all people should know that."
She shrugged and continued chewing her ever-present gum. "How long is he staying this time?"
"Has to fly back Monday evening."
"Monday? But that's Christmas!"
"The folks who plan to spend a lot of money on his painting Tuesday morning don't really seem to care."
"You’re still planning on having Christmas Eve dinner with us though, right? I mean you have to take a break to eat."
"That’s what delivery’s for."
"Then I’ll be the one doing the delivering. If you don't show, expect me there by eight o’clock tomorrow evening. You two can wrap a blanket around yourselves for five minutes. I haven’t seen Sunshine in over four months."
"Yes, mom," Brian said setting his cup down. "Gotta go."
He hit the street again somewhat revived. Deb was easier to take these days. Her life was full with Carl, Mikey, Ben, Hunter and the occasional visit from the girls and her grandkids. It resulted in her having less time for his business and that suited him just fine. He wouldn’t begrudge her a few minutes with Justin but he was making no promises about the blanket.
****************************************
Pittsburgh, Justin thought, as he waited for a taxi outside the city’s International Airport, never changes. Winter here was bitter. It got cold in New York, but seldom this raw cold, traveling on an icy wind.
When he got in the cab, he started to give the driver the address for the loft, but the thought of the probable state of Brian’s refrigerator stopped him. He was traveling light, as always. He kept plenty of clothes and toiletries at the loft. No reason he shouldn’t go there via a grocery store. He leaned forward. “Good Foods,” he said. “Do you know where it is?”
The cabbie nodded and said something in what might have been English that Justin took for an affirmative. He sat back and started making a list. Peanut butter, bread, cheese, some fresh fruit, shrimp, milk, a box of cereal. Maybe salad fixin’s. Not a lot, but enough to stave off starvation and have something for dinner tonight. Once that task was completed, it was an easy walk to the loft. Sliding the heavy door open, he looked around. No one home. Justin wrinkled his nose. He’d hoped that Brian would be there by now, even though he wouldn’t be expecting Justin for another two hours or so. Last night Brian said he was going to the gym this morning, then on to the office after he showered, “So that I can finally get some of the shit off my desk, without the fucking telephone and Cynthia both driving me nuts.”
Oh, well. He dropped his backpack next to the door and stepped out of his shoes. Padding to the kitchen, he plopped the two shopping bags on the counter, walked to the refrigerator and opened it. Poppers, check. Guava juice, check. Half-full containers of Thai, check. A science experiment in a plastic container, check. He dumped the Thai and the contents of the moldy dish in the sink, wincing as he shoved the resulting mess down the garbage disposal. He stuck the Tupperware in the dishwasher and rinsed out the Thai containers before pushing them down into the trashcan. Milk, cheese, fruit, yogurt, shrimp, salad fixin’s in the refrigerator. Ice cream, Cool-Whip, chicken strips in the freezer. Bread, coffee, peanut butter, Jewish pound cake, pretzels in the cabinet. Done.
Next he looked through the recent mail, still stacked on the counter next to the refrigerator. Some might call that snooping. Justin called it self-preservation.
Item: A letter from the Center asking for an advertisement in the annual GLBT Directory. No need to do anything about that. Brian would be good for a full page. He understood that the support of the gay and lesbian community was a plus for Kinnetik.
Item: A gas bill. No problem.
Item: An advertisement from Macy’s. Why had Brian saved that? Like he would ever shop at Macy’s? Justin tossed it in the trash.
Item: An over-sized postcard for a new gym.
Item: An empty envelope. Justin looked at the return address, and his stomach clenched and he suddenly felt cold:
Williams, Rabinowitz, and Stogel
Kimmel Comprehensive Cancer Care Center
Johns Hopkins Medical Center
Fuck. Fuck me. His oncologist. Cancer. Justin started to shiver. His skin felt clammy. Brian hasn’t said anything.
Stop. Stop right now. It could mean anything. It didn’t have to mean…that. He has to have check ups, right? Like the one he had…what…about four months ago? The one where everything was okay? The one we talked about? That’s gotta be it.
But then, what’s this? Something he doesn’t want to talk about? Maybe something they missed? Jesus, no. Jesus. What the hell am I going to do?
Stop. Justin rubbed his arms, trying to warm up. He put the envelope back on the top of the stack of mail. We’ll have to talk. If only I can get him to bring it up. Just not now.
Justin stared at the envelope for a minute, then moved it to the bottom of the stack. Not tonight, not my first night here and not tomorrow either. Not on Christmas Eve. Not when we’re due at Debbie’s for dinner with the gang. If I wait until Monday to talk to him, nothing’s going to change. Nothing’s going to get done over the weekend, anyway. Why have a big fight now…and there will be a fight…and spoil the holiday? I just won’t think about it until after tomorrow. I’ll push it out of my mind and enjoy the holiday.
Yeah, right.
****************************************
Brian still had two good hours until Justin would be arriving. He fished his cell from his coat pocket and began to press his code to confirm that fact when he had second thoughts. He had lied to Justin last night. Something he rarely did unless the circumstances qualified for his old, “It’s not lying unless they make you lie rule.” This qualified.
He’d told Justin he would be spending the morning at the gym and Kinnetik. Clean, simple, efficient. Had he said he was seeing Keith, Justin would have asked why and that would have prompted a different lie because the truth would have caused an argument. An argument would have resulted in Justin landing in Pittsburgh and taking a cab to his mother’s rather than the loft. Then Brian would have to get in his car, drive over to Jennifer’s, exchange pleasantries with her, go up to Justin’s room, talk, talk, talk and eventually haul Justin’s ass home. A lie early in the game not only benefited his blood pressure but was good for the environment as well. Yup, Brian learned long ago that if he was forced to lie to Justin, it was better to do it before he got to the questioning phase.
He was just a couple of blocks from home now. Since the trip to the gym was never going to materialize, and in an effort to make up for the calorie laden holiday, he had opted to walk to and from Keith’s office. It was a neat three mile zig-zag from Tremont and then over to 12th and Highland via Liberty. It gave him time to think. Think about how he, the advertising wiz kid, was going to pitch his latest product to the toughest sell in his book. The exercise had worked. He had a plan.
Justin often joked about the Kinney Operating Manual like it was something unique. Brian didn’t deny its existence but what Justin didn’t seem to realize was that there was an edition out there with his name on it also. There was no need to bring this to the young man’s attention, however, because it surely would result in a rewrite of some of the chapters. Chapters he would then have to study and ask for clarification on and that was just too damn much work. Brian knew the current ‘Book of Taylor’ cover to cover and didn’t want to discuss it. He preferred to simply read it over and over again…in Braille.
Rounding the corner, the loft came into view. The dreary overcast day made it appear later than it was and necessitated turning on lights inside buildings earlier than usual. He knew he had shut them all off this morning but they were clearly visible now. Justin’s there. More than Brian’s legs sped up at the mere thought.
In a flash his key was in the door, and he took the steps three at a time. The ancient elevator would stand empty this afternoon. He would save that slow ride for their descent, probably sometime two days from now when their dicks were satisfied, their asses were sore and the refrigerator had been emptied. Deb’s house would welcome them anytime they pleased on Christmas Day. Justin would head back for New York exhausted but with a full stomach and a bag of lemon bars for the trip.
On the landing Brian could smell onion and garlic and basil. The door slid open effortlessly and revealed the source. Justin stood chopping vegetables as the aromatic mixture marinated in the frying pan. Turning to the door he smiled and said, “Brian,” the only word that escaped his lips before they were covered with another pair.
Brian held Justin’s head in one hand and switched off the burner with the other. Dinner was officially on hold. Justin pulled away, giggling. “Are you going to close the door?”
“Nope,” Brian whispered as he raised Justin’s sweatshirt over his head. Once it hit the floor, Brian leaned in, nipped at Justin’s earlobe and whispered, “I’m going to suck you, right here. If anybody comes up…lucky them.”
Justin inhaled quickly. Four hands were at his belt, fumbling, tugging and slapping at each other. Brian won. Justin placed his hands on the edge of the counter behind him, looked down and watched his jeans and underwear fall into a crumpled mess at his feet. As he stepped out of them, Brian hooked a finger in each of Justin’s socks and they too, were quickly dispensed with.
Brian was on his knees, nipping and sucking the insides of Justin’s calves and then up his thighs. He tormented him exquisitely, taking his time, burrowing his nose in the crease between Justin’s right testicle and his leg. Licking there and then further up…out toward his hip causing Justin to squirm, twisting as if his dick was connected to Brian’s mouth by a short, invisible lead.
“Brian,” Justin pleaded. “Stop it. No…wait…don’t stop…just blow me…please…missed you…please”
Brian’s hands enveloped Justin’s ass, his long slender fingers running lightly up and down his crack. “I missed you too,” Brian murmured. “Missed this.”
He took Justin completely into his mouth. Giving head had never been mandatory for Brian. Who got and who gave in Pittsburgh’s backrooms and bathhouses was negotiated by looks and confidence, making everyone his for the taking. With Justin it was different. Brian gave because he wanted to, craved it. Craved him.
Brian nursed Justin’s cock, never letting it fall completely from his lips. He let Justin control the tempo and intensity while he savored the man’s touch, taste, smell and sound. Justin had never been a quiet fuck. He could moan with Brian’s dick halfway down his throat, and now, with his mouth unencumbered, he delighted Brian with monosyllabic appreciation.
“God…oh God…feels so good…there…yeah…please...so hot...yes..” It sounded, to Brian, as though Justin was reading off of those candied Valentine hearts. And then, as he came, Brian heard a whispered, “Love you.”
Brian took those words in and swallowed them right along with the particles of Justin that coated his throat. They no longer terrified him. It had been one hell of a ride to get to this point but it had all been worth it. The distance that physically separated them may have even strengthened their relationship. It no longer seemed to matter who lived where. Their bond was stronger than their geography.
Justin crumpled to the floor and was now on his knees also, tasting what was left of himself on Brian’s lips. “Your turn,” he interjected when their mouths parted. He was unbuttoning Brian’s shirt and nuzzling the crook of his neck when the reply came.
“Not right now, I gotta take a shower.”
Deja vu. Bad deja vu.
Justin pulled back, startled. "Brian, are you OK?"
"Yeah, fine." Brian was up now, walking toward the bedroom. He sounded distant...preoccupied. Shit.
Justin walked across the room and pushed the door to the loft shut, assessing Brian’s mood as he did. Sometimes it was just better to leave Brian alone when he had something on his mind, but if Brian’s health was an issue, Justin wasn’t going to be pushed away again. He had his own agenda, one that could be executed just fine in the shower.
Justin grabbed his clothes, dumped them in the hamper in the bathroom, and stepped into the shower. Brian turned and raised an eyebrow at him, but he was smiling.
Justin wrapped his arms around Brian’s waist, resting his body against Brian’s for a moment. “You didn’t think I was going to let you have all the fun, did you?” he said.
He dropped to his knees, pushing Brian back against the shower wall as he did so. The water, hot and comforting, soaked his hair and beat on his shoulders, as it had so many times before.
He stuck his tongue in Brian’s belly button and looked up to see a smirk on his face. Brian hated having his navel teased and scowled momentarily, then leaned his head against the wall and shut his eyes as Justin licked and licked, further and further down. Justin took his time, letting his mouth wander where it would and taste what it wanted, but always approaching his goal: Brian’s balls.
Finally he sucked gently on Brian’s artificial testicle, pressing it with his tongue, judging its weight and shape as well as he could. At the same time, he teased Brian’s crack with one finger, pressing the pad of his finger flat against Brian’s opening, feeling Brian’s body clench in reaction.
He shifted his mouth to Brian’s other testicle. If felt…different. More resilient, a bit less mobile. That was no different from usual. As far as he could tell, the testicle felt normal, but how could he be sure? Justin started working his way around Brian’s ball as best he could, pressing his tongue against a spot, then – hopefully – moving a little to the side and probing again. He peered up at Brian. Was he uncomfortable? Was this exploration bothering him? Not noticeably. His mouth had fallen open a little, and he seemed to be breathing a little harder.
Everything seemed O.K., based on a totally unscientific examination. Justin gave a mental shrug and took as much of Brian as he could into his mouth. He shifted his attention from analyzing Brian’s balls to teasing him until he was desperate to come. He sucked hard, he backed off, he teased his asshole with his finger. Finally Brian gave a deep growl, held him still, and came with a second growl.
Justin laughed and held his face up to the water. Brian helped him up, and they washed up. As they dried off, Brian yawned. “Are you really hungry? I’d rather lie down for an hour first.”
The yawn was contagious. Justin followed Brian to the bed, and they curled up under the duvet together. In minutes they were both asleep.
Justin woke to find himself staring into Brian’s eyes, less than a foot away. He reached over and ran his hand over his partner’s shoulder, starting at his collarbone and ending up with his fingers curled around Brian’s bicep. “Missed you,” he whispered. I don’t think I can stand it, he thought, if you are sick again. I remember the pain and the fatigue and the throwing up and the worry. Especially the worry.
But I’m not going to think about that. I’m going to put it right out of my mind. I’m going to think about now. I will enjoy today…and so will Brian. The look in Brian’s eyes and the fact that they had yet to fuck was not lost on Justin. Without breaking the stare the two of them had going on, he asked, “Do you want me above or below you?”
“Neither,” came Brian’s surprising reply.
“So on my knees then?” Justin asked hopefully.
“No, I’m more in the mood for a back rub at the moment,” Brian remarked while Justin did his best to swallow his concern and confusion.
“Okay,” Justin said, trying not to sound disappointed as he sat up and watched Brian roll over. Justin knelt at his side and started kneading Brian’s shoulders, alternating with quick, little drum rolls using the sides of his hands. Brian practically purred in response. Justin smiled. Maybe this isn’t so bad, he thought, as he moved between those long, slender legs. Justin shifted his area of operations to Brian’s lower back, pressing and relaxing, then working his way up and back down his spine. Brian stretched his arms out, and let his legs sprawl. Justin could feel, with delight, his total relaxation.
Inevitably, his hands followed his thoughts to the man’s ass. “You feel really tight back here,” Justin teased as he began kneading those perfect buns.
“Oh, I can guarantee you, I am,” Brian responded. “I was sort of hoping my masseuse might have something to loosen me up.”
Justin’s mouth was literally watering and his concern over Brian’s health was temporarily replaced with glee. “Why, you’re in luck,” he giggled, “because I do. I have just the thing.” He was close enough to Brian’s hole to smell his dark, musky scent, and he licked, wet and sloppy. Brian squirmed, and Justin reached for the lube.
No matter how often he did this…and over seven years it must have been forty or fifty times…he always found entering Brian amazingly arousing. This he knew was his exclusive privilege; something Brian hadn’t allowed another man to do since long before he met Justin.
Justin caught his breath and pressed in slowly. God, hot and tight and his. “I own your ass,” he muttered, and Brian moaned and pushed back. Justin held still for a moment, his forehead resting between Brian’s shoulder blades, until Brian pushed back again, signaling his readiness for more. Justin gave him what he wanted. Several short firm pushes, and he was in up to his balls, and they were both moaning and moving together.
It went on for a while. Justin kept the pace slow, pausing as needed to prolong the fuck. He concentrated on adjusting the angle of his thrusts until he found the one that stroked Brian’s prostate. Brian was cursing, his back arched, one arm bracing himself against the wall. His other hand was on his dick, pumping it, and then Justin felt Brian’s body spasm around his dick as he started to come. Now prolonging the fuck was no longer an option. Justin was coming, too, his body shuddering as semen filled the condom.
“My God, “ he said and followed Brian down to the bed. “Holy crap, I missed you.” He sat up long enough to take care of the condom, then flopped down again, boneless with satiation.
He shut his eyes and drifted for a moment, trying to muster the energy to go finish dinner. Brian interrupted his internal debate, saying, "Justin, we need to talk."
Justin’s head jerked toward Brian, his eyes opening wide. Those five little words caught his attention and changed the atmosphere in the room as completely as if his mother and sister had just slid open the loft door. He maneuvered himself to Brian's side, grabbed his shoulder and pushed, forcing him to turn and look into his eyes. For once, Justin was speechless. Time needed to stop right now. This wasn't fair. This is not how life is supposed to be. He was 24 years old for fuck's sake and the only man he ever wanted...ever really loved...never needed to talk.
Brian blinked and Justin felt his stomach lurch. All the worries and fears he had managed to push to the back of his mind came back, full force. Brian said, "I saw Keith Williams today, and he wants to meet with us both before you go back to New York."
Fuck. What was Brian thinking? Go back to New York? Was he crazy?
Justin could feel his throat tighten and he willed the tears in his eyes not to fall. Now was no time for Brian to have to comfort him. Swallowing hard he attempted to regain his composure. "Brian, I'm staying and you're gonna fight this. It's gonna be okay.”
"What?" Brian furrowed his brow and looked at Justin as if he were speaking in tongues.
"Dr. Williams...the oncologist...I saw the envelope on the counter. Is it back? Is that why he wants to speak with me?"
"Oh Jesus, Justin," Brian reached out and pulled him in hard against his chest, kissing the top of his head and actually chuckling a bit between the pecks.
"My oncologist's name is Rabinowitz, you know that. There’s a Dr. Williams in the same practice, but they’re in Baltimore, for Christ’s sake. Keith Williams is my attorney. I'm changing my will to make you my sole heir, and he wants to meet with both of us before I sign the papers."
Now it was Justin's turn to be confused. He pulled away from Brian and abruptly sat up.
"You're not sick?"
"I'm not sick."
"Really?"
"Justin, I told you I had my check up in September and I'm fine."
"But the envelope?"
"It was my billing statement, nosey."
Justin bent forward and covered his face with his hands. "Shit, Brian. I was so scared."
He remained in that position for a minute, breathing the warmed air that seeped between his fingers and letting the conversation they just had take hold in his brain.
Brian's fine. There's no cancer. Keith Williams. Attorney. Will. Sole Heir.
Brian watched him like he would a jack-in-the-box. He knew that eventually everything would be fine but right now, there was the awful anticipation, the annoying music and that nasty little clown that had to pop out first.
Sure enough, Justin's head jerked up as if on cue. "Sole heir? Brian, why would you make me your sole heir? You have a son. And what about Lindsay? Don't you think, as Gus's mother, if you were to die, she might need something? I'll look like a gold digger. I don't want to be put in that position. I don't know what to do with your money! I don't want your money! Fuck, what's wrong with your will the way it is? Why do you need to change it? Are you sure you're not sick? Don't lie to me. Brian, if you're lying to me and I find out…"
Brian rose up, planted his left palm securely across Justin's lips and pushed him to the mattress with his right arm.
"Listen, twat. I'm not lying to you. Now, if I take my hand away, will you shut up so I can explain?"
Justin's eyes were huge, and they didn't look any too friendly but he nodded affirmatively. Brian slid his hand away. Leaning in, their foreheads touched and their lips were just inches apart.
"I'm not planning on dying anytime soon, Justin, but I had to reevaluate my will. The last time I had it done was nearly five years ago, and my financial picture has drastically improved since then. Kinnetik has done well; far better than even I anticipated. And let's face it, so have we."
Their mouths came together now in a soft, lingering kiss. Brian's tongue poked out and traced the edge of Justin's lips. "But what about Gus?" Justin whispered.
"You sound like my lawyer,” Brian said as he backed off. “Can’t anyone see I’m doing this FOR Gus? You are the noblest person I know, Justin. I’m fairly certain you would scrub subway toilets before you would let him, or J.R. for that matter, go without, and I believe you love him like he was your own. Am I correct?”
"Always have, always will.” Justin confirmed.
"So by leaving everything to you, I’m actually protecting him. As much as I care about Lindsay, you have to admit, she's not the most astute money manager.” Justin nodded in agreement. “In addition, can you imagine the red flags it would raise in my mother and sister's direction if I were to die and they find out my millions go to her? You can bet your ass they'd be hiring someone to figure out why and that someone would also bring Gus into the picture. On the other hand, if my faggot lover gets everything, it would just confirm what a demented individual I really am and he stays uninvolved. You would then retain Keith to set up a trust fund and support payments for Gus and Ted could help with the business end. I know you would take care of everyone, Justin. It's what you do."
Justin felt stunned, as though something large and heavy had just landed on his back, knocking the wind out of him. Brian’s reasoning was impeccable, but the content! He’d need some time to process the content. (Millions? MILLIONS?)
“So…,” Brian hesitated slightly, “is it a deal?”
Justin nodded slightly and let out a sigh of resignation. He was still on his back as Brian hovered over him. “Yes, it’s a deal. Taking care of Kinney men, be they large or small, seems to be my cross to bear.”
Brian chuckled. Relieved that this discussion was concluded in his favor, he brought his head back down and nuzzled it in Justin’s neck.
“I fail to see what’s so funny about this morbid conversation.” Justin protested, stifling a giggle brought on by Brian’s nibbling at his earlobe.
“I don’t plan on dying, Justin,” Brian reassured, “but just picturing the look on my mother’s and sister’s faces when my will is read makes me want to stage the whole thing. That would be priceless.”
“You are so evil.”
“No, I’m sweet,” Brian purred.
“One more question,” Justin kidded, “did you say millions…with an ‘s’?”
“Yup, if I kick the bucket, you will be a very rich man.”
Justin leaned away at hearing this remark so he could look directly at Brian; this non-defined, non-conventional, ‘I don’t do boyfriends’ boyfriend of his and a single thought crystallized in his mind.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Kinney”
Brian cocked his head and looked at him quizzically.
“I already am.”
The End
Original poster: _alicesprings
Title: Always Have, Always Will
Written By: chering and fansee
Timeline: Post-513
Rating: NC-17
Summary: How Brian and Justin may have spent the holidays. Inspired by a gift exchange request that I just couldn’t keep the angst out of.
You've begun to feel like home.
What's mine is yours to leave or take.
What’s mine is yours to make your own.
-Look After You by The Fray
"Hello, Brian, it’s been awhile. Have a seat."
The tanned, handsome man motioned to one of the chairs across from his desk. His jeans and simple gray sweater belied his profession. Keith Williams was out of his normal workday ‘uniform,’ having come into his office on a Saturday to meet with Brian. He learned years ago that Mr. Kinney was as elusive as a teenager at a Tupperware party. Unless Brian initiated the contact, Keith would never be able to pin him down on a weekday. "How have you been?” he asked as Brian extended his hand for the obligatory shake.
"Fine…busy…tired."
Brian looked irritated as he sat down. Upon hearing that last word, Keith looked up with concern. "Tired," Brian clarified, "because I’m very busy. That’s why I’m a little annoyed that you insisted I come here personally today, on a morning I could have been sleeping. Couldn’t this have been handled over the phone?"
"Yes, it probably could have but I make it a point to tell people things they don’t want to hear to their face. I looked this over, Brian," he nodded to the official looking papers on his desk, "and I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t concerned."
Brian heaved a sigh and shook his head. "Thanks but it’s unnecessary. I’ve thought it through…carefully…and I’ve made up my mind. I just need to know if I can trust you’ll follow through when it comes down to it."
"You know I will, but what about your son? How is he going to feel if you do this?"
"He’s seven, Keith." Brian emphasized Gus’s age as he furrowed his brow. "He doesn’t need to know right now and when the time comes that he does, he’ll be fine."
"You’re sure of that?"
"Positive."
"And this…Mr. Taylor? Does he know?"
"He will… soon enough."
"All right then,” Keith raised his hands up in resignation and let them fall to his desk,
“I just have one stipulation."
"And that is?"
"I meet with both of you first. Not that I don’t trust you won’t tell him, but this isn’t something he should have sprung upon him if you are incapacitated or…" he looked from his desk and directly at Brian, "worse. As far as the rest of your family goes, I’ll leave that up to you."
Brian pulled in his lips, looked down and nodded. "Okay, I’ll talk to him." He rose and once again extended his hand.
"Give me a call then?"
"Yeah." Brian broke the handshake, turned and headed out the door.
"Soon." He was already gone but Keith was fairly certain Brian had heard him as he looked back down at the papers and slowly shook his head.
****************************************
"The noon flight has been delayed, Mr. Taylor. If you’d like, I can see if they are still accepting passengers."
Justin had arrived at the airport well before his 2:45 flight and the thought of arriving early to surprise Brian delighted him.
"That would be great!" Justin said. It was obvious that the attractive female desk agent was flirting with him, and he would use any trick in the book if it would get him to Pittsburgh earlier. "That’s a beautiful ring you’re wearing."
"Oh, thank you," she replied. "It’s my birthstone."
"Scorpio?" he asked with a slight smirk.
"Well…yes."
"Me too." He blushed but continued, "I understand we make great lovers." He was so getting on this plane.
"I haven’t had any complaints yet," she responded coyly. "Is a middle seat okay?"
"Anything you’ve got is fine," Justin said, looking her up and down. He had never realized how easy it was to flirt with a woman.
Now she was blushing. "Is this trip for business or pleasure?"
He leaned in and answered her in a hushed, slow drawl, "Two days and two nights of un-pure pleasure."
"Mmm," Justin couldn’t tell if that was disappointment or intrigue, "lucky girl. If it doesn’t work out, give me a call." She was wrote her number on a post-it, attached it to his boarding pass and handed them both to him.
With it safely in hand, he just didn’t feel right continuing the charade. "Sorry, there’s no girl and I’m afraid there never will be." He smiled as the agent rolled her eyes and shook her head.
"Why are the hottest ones always gay?" he heard her call out as he turned and sprinted toward the gate.
****************************************
The older he got the more Brian hated cold weather. Every year it seemed to bring with it a host of bitter memories. As a kid it was the holidays with his family. Days that usually started out with promise, but evaporated as quickly as Jack and Joanie could drain a bottle of Seagram’s. It was always so fucking cold by the time he would eventually sprint to Mikey’s; tears - or even blood - crystallizing on his cheeks as he ran.
The cold weather also reminded him of the first time Justin left and of his cancer and Vic’s death. Fuck, the last time Justin left it was cold too. What the hell was he still doing in Pittsburgh nearly two years later anyway? He had the money, and there was nothing anchoring him here anymore. His son was in Canada and Justin was in New York.
Maybe that was why. It took exactly 1.3 non-stop hours to get from Pittsburgh to New York. 1.7 hours to 613 Seventh Avenue if he didn’t check any luggage, and usually about 1.9 hours to be buried balls deep in the sweetest piece of ass he had ever found. If he moved, he would pay for a warm climate in layovers, cancellations, and time. Precious time that there never seemed to be enough of anymore.
Brian glanced at his watch as he hurried down Liberty Avenue. Could he still duck into the diner for a cup of coffee? Just then the wind picked up and made the call for him. The brightly lit atmosphere, the warmth and the friendly familiar faces, even on a Saturday afternoon, the day before Christmas Eve, greeted him. Don’t these people have lives? he wondered as Deb’s voice rang out.
"What the fuck are you doin’ in here today? I thought Sunshine was in town."
Brian took a seat at the counter and smiled as she set the usual cup down in front of him and began to pour.
"Flight lands at four. I had a meeting."
"Well, I would say all work and no play makes Brian a very dull boy. But I’m sure you’ll be stocking up on your play quotient real soon."
Brian raised his cup as if to toast. "Hopefully," he said as he cocked his head.
"When are you going to convince that boy to come back home for good?"
"I’m not. He’s doing well there."
"I know," her tone had turned serious, "but…after all you two have been through, you deserve to be together."
"Life’s not fair, Deb, and we don’t always get what we deserve. You of all people should know that."
She shrugged and continued chewing her ever-present gum. "How long is he staying this time?"
"Has to fly back Monday evening."
"Monday? But that's Christmas!"
"The folks who plan to spend a lot of money on his painting Tuesday morning don't really seem to care."
"You’re still planning on having Christmas Eve dinner with us though, right? I mean you have to take a break to eat."
"That’s what delivery’s for."
"Then I’ll be the one doing the delivering. If you don't show, expect me there by eight o’clock tomorrow evening. You two can wrap a blanket around yourselves for five minutes. I haven’t seen Sunshine in over four months."
"Yes, mom," Brian said setting his cup down. "Gotta go."
He hit the street again somewhat revived. Deb was easier to take these days. Her life was full with Carl, Mikey, Ben, Hunter and the occasional visit from the girls and her grandkids. It resulted in her having less time for his business and that suited him just fine. He wouldn’t begrudge her a few minutes with Justin but he was making no promises about the blanket.
****************************************
Pittsburgh, Justin thought, as he waited for a taxi outside the city’s International Airport, never changes. Winter here was bitter. It got cold in New York, but seldom this raw cold, traveling on an icy wind.
When he got in the cab, he started to give the driver the address for the loft, but the thought of the probable state of Brian’s refrigerator stopped him. He was traveling light, as always. He kept plenty of clothes and toiletries at the loft. No reason he shouldn’t go there via a grocery store. He leaned forward. “Good Foods,” he said. “Do you know where it is?”
The cabbie nodded and said something in what might have been English that Justin took for an affirmative. He sat back and started making a list. Peanut butter, bread, cheese, some fresh fruit, shrimp, milk, a box of cereal. Maybe salad fixin’s. Not a lot, but enough to stave off starvation and have something for dinner tonight. Once that task was completed, it was an easy walk to the loft. Sliding the heavy door open, he looked around. No one home. Justin wrinkled his nose. He’d hoped that Brian would be there by now, even though he wouldn’t be expecting Justin for another two hours or so. Last night Brian said he was going to the gym this morning, then on to the office after he showered, “So that I can finally get some of the shit off my desk, without the fucking telephone and Cynthia both driving me nuts.”
Oh, well. He dropped his backpack next to the door and stepped out of his shoes. Padding to the kitchen, he plopped the two shopping bags on the counter, walked to the refrigerator and opened it. Poppers, check. Guava juice, check. Half-full containers of Thai, check. A science experiment in a plastic container, check. He dumped the Thai and the contents of the moldy dish in the sink, wincing as he shoved the resulting mess down the garbage disposal. He stuck the Tupperware in the dishwasher and rinsed out the Thai containers before pushing them down into the trashcan. Milk, cheese, fruit, yogurt, shrimp, salad fixin’s in the refrigerator. Ice cream, Cool-Whip, chicken strips in the freezer. Bread, coffee, peanut butter, Jewish pound cake, pretzels in the cabinet. Done.
Next he looked through the recent mail, still stacked on the counter next to the refrigerator. Some might call that snooping. Justin called it self-preservation.
Item: A letter from the Center asking for an advertisement in the annual GLBT Directory. No need to do anything about that. Brian would be good for a full page. He understood that the support of the gay and lesbian community was a plus for Kinnetik.
Item: A gas bill. No problem.
Item: An advertisement from Macy’s. Why had Brian saved that? Like he would ever shop at Macy’s? Justin tossed it in the trash.
Item: An over-sized postcard for a new gym.
Item: An empty envelope. Justin looked at the return address, and his stomach clenched and he suddenly felt cold:
Williams, Rabinowitz, and Stogel
Kimmel Comprehensive Cancer Care Center
Johns Hopkins Medical Center
Fuck. Fuck me. His oncologist. Cancer. Justin started to shiver. His skin felt clammy. Brian hasn’t said anything.
Stop. Stop right now. It could mean anything. It didn’t have to mean…that. He has to have check ups, right? Like the one he had…what…about four months ago? The one where everything was okay? The one we talked about? That’s gotta be it.
But then, what’s this? Something he doesn’t want to talk about? Maybe something they missed? Jesus, no. Jesus. What the hell am I going to do?
Stop. Justin rubbed his arms, trying to warm up. He put the envelope back on the top of the stack of mail. We’ll have to talk. If only I can get him to bring it up. Just not now.
Justin stared at the envelope for a minute, then moved it to the bottom of the stack. Not tonight, not my first night here and not tomorrow either. Not on Christmas Eve. Not when we’re due at Debbie’s for dinner with the gang. If I wait until Monday to talk to him, nothing’s going to change. Nothing’s going to get done over the weekend, anyway. Why have a big fight now…and there will be a fight…and spoil the holiday? I just won’t think about it until after tomorrow. I’ll push it out of my mind and enjoy the holiday.
Yeah, right.
****************************************
Brian still had two good hours until Justin would be arriving. He fished his cell from his coat pocket and began to press his code to confirm that fact when he had second thoughts. He had lied to Justin last night. Something he rarely did unless the circumstances qualified for his old, “It’s not lying unless they make you lie rule.” This qualified.
He’d told Justin he would be spending the morning at the gym and Kinnetik. Clean, simple, efficient. Had he said he was seeing Keith, Justin would have asked why and that would have prompted a different lie because the truth would have caused an argument. An argument would have resulted in Justin landing in Pittsburgh and taking a cab to his mother’s rather than the loft. Then Brian would have to get in his car, drive over to Jennifer’s, exchange pleasantries with her, go up to Justin’s room, talk, talk, talk and eventually haul Justin’s ass home. A lie early in the game not only benefited his blood pressure but was good for the environment as well. Yup, Brian learned long ago that if he was forced to lie to Justin, it was better to do it before he got to the questioning phase.
He was just a couple of blocks from home now. Since the trip to the gym was never going to materialize, and in an effort to make up for the calorie laden holiday, he had opted to walk to and from Keith’s office. It was a neat three mile zig-zag from Tremont and then over to 12th and Highland via Liberty. It gave him time to think. Think about how he, the advertising wiz kid, was going to pitch his latest product to the toughest sell in his book. The exercise had worked. He had a plan.
Justin often joked about the Kinney Operating Manual like it was something unique. Brian didn’t deny its existence but what Justin didn’t seem to realize was that there was an edition out there with his name on it also. There was no need to bring this to the young man’s attention, however, because it surely would result in a rewrite of some of the chapters. Chapters he would then have to study and ask for clarification on and that was just too damn much work. Brian knew the current ‘Book of Taylor’ cover to cover and didn’t want to discuss it. He preferred to simply read it over and over again…in Braille.
Rounding the corner, the loft came into view. The dreary overcast day made it appear later than it was and necessitated turning on lights inside buildings earlier than usual. He knew he had shut them all off this morning but they were clearly visible now. Justin’s there. More than Brian’s legs sped up at the mere thought.
In a flash his key was in the door, and he took the steps three at a time. The ancient elevator would stand empty this afternoon. He would save that slow ride for their descent, probably sometime two days from now when their dicks were satisfied, their asses were sore and the refrigerator had been emptied. Deb’s house would welcome them anytime they pleased on Christmas Day. Justin would head back for New York exhausted but with a full stomach and a bag of lemon bars for the trip.
On the landing Brian could smell onion and garlic and basil. The door slid open effortlessly and revealed the source. Justin stood chopping vegetables as the aromatic mixture marinated in the frying pan. Turning to the door he smiled and said, “Brian,” the only word that escaped his lips before they were covered with another pair.
Brian held Justin’s head in one hand and switched off the burner with the other. Dinner was officially on hold. Justin pulled away, giggling. “Are you going to close the door?”
“Nope,” Brian whispered as he raised Justin’s sweatshirt over his head. Once it hit the floor, Brian leaned in, nipped at Justin’s earlobe and whispered, “I’m going to suck you, right here. If anybody comes up…lucky them.”
Justin inhaled quickly. Four hands were at his belt, fumbling, tugging and slapping at each other. Brian won. Justin placed his hands on the edge of the counter behind him, looked down and watched his jeans and underwear fall into a crumpled mess at his feet. As he stepped out of them, Brian hooked a finger in each of Justin’s socks and they too, were quickly dispensed with.
Brian was on his knees, nipping and sucking the insides of Justin’s calves and then up his thighs. He tormented him exquisitely, taking his time, burrowing his nose in the crease between Justin’s right testicle and his leg. Licking there and then further up…out toward his hip causing Justin to squirm, twisting as if his dick was connected to Brian’s mouth by a short, invisible lead.
“Brian,” Justin pleaded. “Stop it. No…wait…don’t stop…just blow me…please…missed you…please”
Brian’s hands enveloped Justin’s ass, his long slender fingers running lightly up and down his crack. “I missed you too,” Brian murmured. “Missed this.”
He took Justin completely into his mouth. Giving head had never been mandatory for Brian. Who got and who gave in Pittsburgh’s backrooms and bathhouses was negotiated by looks and confidence, making everyone his for the taking. With Justin it was different. Brian gave because he wanted to, craved it. Craved him.
Brian nursed Justin’s cock, never letting it fall completely from his lips. He let Justin control the tempo and intensity while he savored the man’s touch, taste, smell and sound. Justin had never been a quiet fuck. He could moan with Brian’s dick halfway down his throat, and now, with his mouth unencumbered, he delighted Brian with monosyllabic appreciation.
“God…oh God…feels so good…there…yeah…please...so hot...yes..” It sounded, to Brian, as though Justin was reading off of those candied Valentine hearts. And then, as he came, Brian heard a whispered, “Love you.”
Brian took those words in and swallowed them right along with the particles of Justin that coated his throat. They no longer terrified him. It had been one hell of a ride to get to this point but it had all been worth it. The distance that physically separated them may have even strengthened their relationship. It no longer seemed to matter who lived where. Their bond was stronger than their geography.
Justin crumpled to the floor and was now on his knees also, tasting what was left of himself on Brian’s lips. “Your turn,” he interjected when their mouths parted. He was unbuttoning Brian’s shirt and nuzzling the crook of his neck when the reply came.
“Not right now, I gotta take a shower.”
Deja vu. Bad deja vu.
Justin pulled back, startled. "Brian, are you OK?"
"Yeah, fine." Brian was up now, walking toward the bedroom. He sounded distant...preoccupied. Shit.
Justin walked across the room and pushed the door to the loft shut, assessing Brian’s mood as he did. Sometimes it was just better to leave Brian alone when he had something on his mind, but if Brian’s health was an issue, Justin wasn’t going to be pushed away again. He had his own agenda, one that could be executed just fine in the shower.
Justin grabbed his clothes, dumped them in the hamper in the bathroom, and stepped into the shower. Brian turned and raised an eyebrow at him, but he was smiling.
Justin wrapped his arms around Brian’s waist, resting his body against Brian’s for a moment. “You didn’t think I was going to let you have all the fun, did you?” he said.
He dropped to his knees, pushing Brian back against the shower wall as he did so. The water, hot and comforting, soaked his hair and beat on his shoulders, as it had so many times before.
He stuck his tongue in Brian’s belly button and looked up to see a smirk on his face. Brian hated having his navel teased and scowled momentarily, then leaned his head against the wall and shut his eyes as Justin licked and licked, further and further down. Justin took his time, letting his mouth wander where it would and taste what it wanted, but always approaching his goal: Brian’s balls.
Finally he sucked gently on Brian’s artificial testicle, pressing it with his tongue, judging its weight and shape as well as he could. At the same time, he teased Brian’s crack with one finger, pressing the pad of his finger flat against Brian’s opening, feeling Brian’s body clench in reaction.
He shifted his mouth to Brian’s other testicle. If felt…different. More resilient, a bit less mobile. That was no different from usual. As far as he could tell, the testicle felt normal, but how could he be sure? Justin started working his way around Brian’s ball as best he could, pressing his tongue against a spot, then – hopefully – moving a little to the side and probing again. He peered up at Brian. Was he uncomfortable? Was this exploration bothering him? Not noticeably. His mouth had fallen open a little, and he seemed to be breathing a little harder.
Everything seemed O.K., based on a totally unscientific examination. Justin gave a mental shrug and took as much of Brian as he could into his mouth. He shifted his attention from analyzing Brian’s balls to teasing him until he was desperate to come. He sucked hard, he backed off, he teased his asshole with his finger. Finally Brian gave a deep growl, held him still, and came with a second growl.
Justin laughed and held his face up to the water. Brian helped him up, and they washed up. As they dried off, Brian yawned. “Are you really hungry? I’d rather lie down for an hour first.”
The yawn was contagious. Justin followed Brian to the bed, and they curled up under the duvet together. In minutes they were both asleep.
Justin woke to find himself staring into Brian’s eyes, less than a foot away. He reached over and ran his hand over his partner’s shoulder, starting at his collarbone and ending up with his fingers curled around Brian’s bicep. “Missed you,” he whispered. I don’t think I can stand it, he thought, if you are sick again. I remember the pain and the fatigue and the throwing up and the worry. Especially the worry.
But I’m not going to think about that. I’m going to put it right out of my mind. I’m going to think about now. I will enjoy today…and so will Brian. The look in Brian’s eyes and the fact that they had yet to fuck was not lost on Justin. Without breaking the stare the two of them had going on, he asked, “Do you want me above or below you?”
“Neither,” came Brian’s surprising reply.
“So on my knees then?” Justin asked hopefully.
“No, I’m more in the mood for a back rub at the moment,” Brian remarked while Justin did his best to swallow his concern and confusion.
“Okay,” Justin said, trying not to sound disappointed as he sat up and watched Brian roll over. Justin knelt at his side and started kneading Brian’s shoulders, alternating with quick, little drum rolls using the sides of his hands. Brian practically purred in response. Justin smiled. Maybe this isn’t so bad, he thought, as he moved between those long, slender legs. Justin shifted his area of operations to Brian’s lower back, pressing and relaxing, then working his way up and back down his spine. Brian stretched his arms out, and let his legs sprawl. Justin could feel, with delight, his total relaxation.
Inevitably, his hands followed his thoughts to the man’s ass. “You feel really tight back here,” Justin teased as he began kneading those perfect buns.
“Oh, I can guarantee you, I am,” Brian responded. “I was sort of hoping my masseuse might have something to loosen me up.”
Justin’s mouth was literally watering and his concern over Brian’s health was temporarily replaced with glee. “Why, you’re in luck,” he giggled, “because I do. I have just the thing.” He was close enough to Brian’s hole to smell his dark, musky scent, and he licked, wet and sloppy. Brian squirmed, and Justin reached for the lube.
No matter how often he did this…and over seven years it must have been forty or fifty times…he always found entering Brian amazingly arousing. This he knew was his exclusive privilege; something Brian hadn’t allowed another man to do since long before he met Justin.
Justin caught his breath and pressed in slowly. God, hot and tight and his. “I own your ass,” he muttered, and Brian moaned and pushed back. Justin held still for a moment, his forehead resting between Brian’s shoulder blades, until Brian pushed back again, signaling his readiness for more. Justin gave him what he wanted. Several short firm pushes, and he was in up to his balls, and they were both moaning and moving together.
It went on for a while. Justin kept the pace slow, pausing as needed to prolong the fuck. He concentrated on adjusting the angle of his thrusts until he found the one that stroked Brian’s prostate. Brian was cursing, his back arched, one arm bracing himself against the wall. His other hand was on his dick, pumping it, and then Justin felt Brian’s body spasm around his dick as he started to come. Now prolonging the fuck was no longer an option. Justin was coming, too, his body shuddering as semen filled the condom.
“My God, “ he said and followed Brian down to the bed. “Holy crap, I missed you.” He sat up long enough to take care of the condom, then flopped down again, boneless with satiation.
He shut his eyes and drifted for a moment, trying to muster the energy to go finish dinner. Brian interrupted his internal debate, saying, "Justin, we need to talk."
Justin’s head jerked toward Brian, his eyes opening wide. Those five little words caught his attention and changed the atmosphere in the room as completely as if his mother and sister had just slid open the loft door. He maneuvered himself to Brian's side, grabbed his shoulder and pushed, forcing him to turn and look into his eyes. For once, Justin was speechless. Time needed to stop right now. This wasn't fair. This is not how life is supposed to be. He was 24 years old for fuck's sake and the only man he ever wanted...ever really loved...never needed to talk.
Brian blinked and Justin felt his stomach lurch. All the worries and fears he had managed to push to the back of his mind came back, full force. Brian said, "I saw Keith Williams today, and he wants to meet with us both before you go back to New York."
Fuck. What was Brian thinking? Go back to New York? Was he crazy?
Justin could feel his throat tighten and he willed the tears in his eyes not to fall. Now was no time for Brian to have to comfort him. Swallowing hard he attempted to regain his composure. "Brian, I'm staying and you're gonna fight this. It's gonna be okay.”
"What?" Brian furrowed his brow and looked at Justin as if he were speaking in tongues.
"Dr. Williams...the oncologist...I saw the envelope on the counter. Is it back? Is that why he wants to speak with me?"
"Oh Jesus, Justin," Brian reached out and pulled him in hard against his chest, kissing the top of his head and actually chuckling a bit between the pecks.
"My oncologist's name is Rabinowitz, you know that. There’s a Dr. Williams in the same practice, but they’re in Baltimore, for Christ’s sake. Keith Williams is my attorney. I'm changing my will to make you my sole heir, and he wants to meet with both of us before I sign the papers."
Now it was Justin's turn to be confused. He pulled away from Brian and abruptly sat up.
"You're not sick?"
"I'm not sick."
"Really?"
"Justin, I told you I had my check up in September and I'm fine."
"But the envelope?"
"It was my billing statement, nosey."
Justin bent forward and covered his face with his hands. "Shit, Brian. I was so scared."
He remained in that position for a minute, breathing the warmed air that seeped between his fingers and letting the conversation they just had take hold in his brain.
Brian's fine. There's no cancer. Keith Williams. Attorney. Will. Sole Heir.
Brian watched him like he would a jack-in-the-box. He knew that eventually everything would be fine but right now, there was the awful anticipation, the annoying music and that nasty little clown that had to pop out first.
Sure enough, Justin's head jerked up as if on cue. "Sole heir? Brian, why would you make me your sole heir? You have a son. And what about Lindsay? Don't you think, as Gus's mother, if you were to die, she might need something? I'll look like a gold digger. I don't want to be put in that position. I don't know what to do with your money! I don't want your money! Fuck, what's wrong with your will the way it is? Why do you need to change it? Are you sure you're not sick? Don't lie to me. Brian, if you're lying to me and I find out…"
Brian rose up, planted his left palm securely across Justin's lips and pushed him to the mattress with his right arm.
"Listen, twat. I'm not lying to you. Now, if I take my hand away, will you shut up so I can explain?"
Justin's eyes were huge, and they didn't look any too friendly but he nodded affirmatively. Brian slid his hand away. Leaning in, their foreheads touched and their lips were just inches apart.
"I'm not planning on dying anytime soon, Justin, but I had to reevaluate my will. The last time I had it done was nearly five years ago, and my financial picture has drastically improved since then. Kinnetik has done well; far better than even I anticipated. And let's face it, so have we."
Their mouths came together now in a soft, lingering kiss. Brian's tongue poked out and traced the edge of Justin's lips. "But what about Gus?" Justin whispered.
"You sound like my lawyer,” Brian said as he backed off. “Can’t anyone see I’m doing this FOR Gus? You are the noblest person I know, Justin. I’m fairly certain you would scrub subway toilets before you would let him, or J.R. for that matter, go without, and I believe you love him like he was your own. Am I correct?”
"Always have, always will.” Justin confirmed.
"So by leaving everything to you, I’m actually protecting him. As much as I care about Lindsay, you have to admit, she's not the most astute money manager.” Justin nodded in agreement. “In addition, can you imagine the red flags it would raise in my mother and sister's direction if I were to die and they find out my millions go to her? You can bet your ass they'd be hiring someone to figure out why and that someone would also bring Gus into the picture. On the other hand, if my faggot lover gets everything, it would just confirm what a demented individual I really am and he stays uninvolved. You would then retain Keith to set up a trust fund and support payments for Gus and Ted could help with the business end. I know you would take care of everyone, Justin. It's what you do."
Justin felt stunned, as though something large and heavy had just landed on his back, knocking the wind out of him. Brian’s reasoning was impeccable, but the content! He’d need some time to process the content. (Millions? MILLIONS?)
“So…,” Brian hesitated slightly, “is it a deal?”
Justin nodded slightly and let out a sigh of resignation. He was still on his back as Brian hovered over him. “Yes, it’s a deal. Taking care of Kinney men, be they large or small, seems to be my cross to bear.”
Brian chuckled. Relieved that this discussion was concluded in his favor, he brought his head back down and nuzzled it in Justin’s neck.
“I fail to see what’s so funny about this morbid conversation.” Justin protested, stifling a giggle brought on by Brian’s nibbling at his earlobe.
“I don’t plan on dying, Justin,” Brian reassured, “but just picturing the look on my mother’s and sister’s faces when my will is read makes me want to stage the whole thing. That would be priceless.”
“You are so evil.”
“No, I’m sweet,” Brian purred.
“One more question,” Justin kidded, “did you say millions…with an ‘s’?”
“Yup, if I kick the bucket, you will be a very rich man.”
Justin leaned away at hearing this remark so he could look directly at Brian; this non-defined, non-conventional, ‘I don’t do boyfriends’ boyfriend of his and a single thought crystallized in his mind.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Kinney”
Brian cocked his head and looked at him quizzically.
“I already am.”
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