THE TIME BETWEEN THEN AND NOW

Original poster: _alicesprings

Title: The Time Between Then and Now
Written By: chering and fansee
Timeline: Gapfiller 301 to 308
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst.(Sorry, it was an angsty time.) But hey, there’s also humor, lots of sex and it ends happily!
Summary: A series of ficlets written to expand upon what we did and didn’t get to see during that difficult time.
Author’s Notes: While I’ve written a number of fics – gapfillers are new to me. I’ve found that filling in the blanks to a known outcome was more difficult than I expected.
Inspired By Icon: #25 – Because through it all, there was always DESIRE.

Justin knocked first and waited before sliding the door to the loft open. He hesitated again on the threshold and said, “Brian?” Had it really been only a day since he felt the need to do this? To ask permission to enter the loft? The time between then and now had changed him. This was no longer his home.

There was no answer. He’d planned on going there at a time when Brian would be at work, but you never knew…. Brian rarely indulged in a ‘mental health’ day, but perhaps he’d gotten wasted last night and couldn’t get out of bed this morning. Perhaps he was upset that his ‘stalker’ had moved on, had found someone to love him…. Perhaps….

Justin could see one of his jackets and a couple of other pieces of his clothing draped over the couch. He paused mid-way between the door and the couch and said Brian’s name again.

Again, no answer. Justin felt a surge of relief that there would be no confrontation. If the initial relief was followed by a different emotion, he ignored that. He started stuffing his clothes into his large black duffle. In and out, as quickly as possible, just in case Brian does decide to stop by. He’d never ask me to stay, I know that, but if he just walked over and kissed me and stuck his hand down the back of my pants, would I…? Fuck, I’d leave. I’m done. I’ve found somebody…Ethan’s not better…he’s different…very different…better for me….

A gasp from Brian, so loud, so real, that for a moment Justin thought he had actually heard it. He flinched and turned toward the recliner, remembering. What made us decide that it was a good idea for me to feed Brian ice cream that time? I remember we’d been fooling around…a little fucking, some sucking…and I said I was hungry. I got out of bed and started walking toward the kitchen. Brian caught up with me and grabbed my arm. “C’mon,” he said, “I’ve got something you can eat,” and he pulled me toward the recliner.

I smiled and turned back to him, and he kissed me. I leaned into the kiss, and my stomach rumbled. Loudly. Brian laughed and said, “I get the message,” and he sat down on the recliner.

I pacified my stomach with a glass of milk and a celery stalk stuffed with peanut butter. The milk reminded me that I’d bought a pint of ice cream yesterday. I got it out of the freezer, pried off the top, pulled off that seal they put over it, and opened the drawer to get out a spoon.

“What the hell are you doing?" Brian growled. “Making yourself a full course dinner?

“Mmmm,” I said, sticking the spoon into the ice cream. “So good.” I sucked it off slowly, as though I were sucking off Brian. I crossed the floor and straddled him, easing myself down on his thighs. I dug the spoon into the ice cream again. “Here’s some for you.”

I held out a heaping spoonful and tried to feed it to him. He turned his head away, and I laughed. “You sure you don’t want some?” I asked. “Because if you don’t, I have some ideas about what to do with it,” and I turned my hand so that a large dollop fell on him just below his left tit.

“Bitch,” he said and took the spoon away from me. I licked at the rapidly melting mess and took a swipe at his nipple as long as I was there. He grabbed the pint, scooped some out, and put the container on the floor. I curled into him, down to his hardening dick, and felt him go still. The spoon clattered to the floor. I smiled to myself and licked. Brian’s back arched and he gasped.

As always, he filled my senses: the taste of his precum, the thickness of his cock filling my mouth, the smell of his pubes, the slight scratchiness of his thighs against my balls and hardening dick, and his hand stroking down my flank, fingers spread, then clenching on my hip as he came.

Justin forced himself back into the present and turned toward the bedroom. If the recliner had held memories, the big bed held many, many more. Those he was not going to allow himself to think about. He went straight to the dresser, willing himself not to notice the bed. He stuffed his underwear and T-shirts into his duffle, then turned his back on the treacherous bed and pulled his jackets off their hangers. The sight of Brian’s suits, hanging neatly, threatened him briefly, but he resisted the temptation to stop and figure out what Brian was wearing today and when he had last worn that suit and what they did when he wore it….

When he turned to pick up his toiletries in the bathroom, the sight of two maroon towels hanging side by side ambushed him. I swear I can hear the water running. How many mornings did Brian turn me around, push me to the wall, and fuck me awake? He’s so big…thank God Ethan’s not…so for as long as he was in me and over me, I was almost dry. Never cold, though. Our heat took care of that.

Justin grabbed his ditty bag, toothpaste, and toothbrush and shoved them into the duffle. He still had to pick up what he needed for school from his worktable: sketch box, some pastels, pencils, etc. He grabbed the sketch box and looked around. This time the bed took him by surprise. He saw himself, flat on his stomach, with Brian above him, fucking him into the bed. He remembered pushing himself up on his knees so that he could rock into Brian’s strokes.

Last night Ethan talked to me while we fucked. I loved it. I loved hearing how much he wanted me, how he loved me, how I made him feel. Brian never talked; he just fucked. Somehow, though, I always knew what he wanted. He never had to tell me, not with words, anyway. His body talked to me.

Last night, when we were ready to sleep, Ethan asked how it was for me, and I told him. I never told Brian how much I loved to have him fuck me, and he never asked. He didn’t have to ask. He knew. I’ve seen Brian be…I guess ‘unkind’ is as good a word as any…to his tricks, but never to me. Never. When we fucked, he was the only person in the world for me, and I know I was the only person for him. It’s going to be like that for me and Ethan. I just have to quit thinking about Brian when I fuck Ethan. I need to get over the way he touched me or how his body always set our rhythm or how Brian could stretch and stretch a fuck.

Justin walked briskly through the loft and out the door, telling himself he was not running away, he was just leaving. When he turned to slide the door shut, in his mind’s eye, he saw Brian again, still fucking him with that control that would soon have him screaming for release.

It’s all about Ethan now, he thought. Ethan and me. We’ll be together in a way Brian and I never were. A way Brian never could be. I know what I want, and now I’m with someone who wants the same thing.

Good-bye, Brian.

**** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> ****

“Hello...Justin?”

“Brian?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you want?”

“In your haste to clean your shit out of here the other day, you left a few things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, so far I’ve found a sock, some underwear and your extra set of sketching pencils.”

“My pencils? I didn’t leave my pencils…they’re right here on…fuck.”

“Yeah, they’re right here on my table.”

“Screw it, I’ll get some more.”

“Don’t be an idiot, you can’t afford more.”

“So…do you want me to come and get them?”

“No, I have plans. I’ll drop them off at the diner in the morning.”

“Oh...okay. Um, thanks.”

Brian clicked his phone shut, ending the conversation. He crossed the loft and entered his bedroom. Changing from his suit to a pair of jeans, he contemplated just what those plans would be. There would be no going to Babylon with Mikey tonight. Michael needed to go home, nurse his eye and play housewife. He winced at the thought of that eye and then dismissed the twinge of regret. Michael had been way out of line. You don’t wish somebody dead for getting their needs met. And you don’t shit-can your dreams because your business partner just walked out on your best friend.

Brian grabbed a shirt and then hesitated. Why bother? He wasn’t going anywhere. Tossing it on the empty chair that had recently been littered with Justin’s cast offs, he grabbed a cigarette and stretched out on the bed. Crossing his legs, he leaned back and glanced up at the blue lights. Those things needed to go.

His thoughts drifted back to the last time he had been here waiting for someone to arrive. Remembering the sound of the door sliding open and the feelings he had, only made him queasy all over again. There had been relief, but it was tinged with apprehension. He hadn’t been expecting Justin to return that night. Not after their confrontation earlier in the day.

The day I told him I would never say he was all I want. The day I told him it was his call where he wanted to be. He made that call, and then he was back. Why? I couldn’t read him when he came into view, and for a change he wasn’t saying anything. I welcomed him into my bed…our bed... and he accepted the offer. I told him he could stay, didn’t I?

Brian closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He didn’t know a single, truly happy couple. Oh sure, Mel and Lindz claimed to be…this week. And then of course there was Michael and Ben. They had yet to stand the test of time. His parents certainly hadn’t been happy and neither were Justin’s. Hadn’t he always said he didn’t believe in love? He believed in fucking. And the last time he had fucked in this bed had been that same night.

He crawled in with his back to me, and I had to push the cover down a bit to get to skin. I have an insatiable hunger to touch him. Massaging his arm, I inhaled his scent. Tonight it wasn’t of soap or sex. It was only Justin. I closed my eyes gratefully, and he was still for a moment. Then he pushed back slightly. The thin cotton of his underwear couldn’t hide the fact that my dick was hard pressed up against his ass. He moaned ever so slightly and I nuzzled his neck.

“Brian…”

“Yes?” Tell me…tell me why you are here. But he didn’t continue. I sucked in his earlobe and he squirmed. I tugged at his underwear, and he lifted up without resistance so that they slid down his legs to be captured in the folds of sheet; sheets that didn’t give them up until he was gone.

Had I known this would be the last time, I would have turned him on his back and faced him so I could look into his eyes…like the first time. Convey to him that he’s not just another trick…he never had been. Instead, I remained silent and dragged my tongue from his shoulder to the base of his neck. He gasped as I made the now familiar trek from that point to the small of his back.

My hands were on his ass then and I spread him, exposing his hole and his smell to me. There had been no other man here tonight. I was sure of it. I just wasn’t sure why.

He greedily accepted my tongue and the fingers and dick that followed. I took him from behind, spooning him and jerking him off with my hand as I satisfied myself. We seldom came together, but that night we did. My orgasm didn’t trigger his, or vice-versa. Instead, we were one.

“I love you, Brian,” Justin gasped as he climaxed.

Look at me, I thought…turn your head and look at me…please. You’ll see it in my eyes but I won’t cage you with those words, Justin,

Brian was hard at the thought when the knock came. Three taps, once more and then again. He rose from his bed, clad only in jeans, to slide the heavy door open.

“Hi, my name’s Blake.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Not much did anymore.

**** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> ****

Ethan has always had sort of an idea of what his ideal lover would be like. He’d be Ethan’s age or maybe a little younger, so Ethan would be more sophisticated and worldly than the guy. But not necessarily smarter. Ethan’s got no time for air-headed beauties…oh, yeah, Ethan would like the guy to be good-looking…maybe rugged and out-doorsy, maybe just strikingly handsome. Hey, when you make your shopping list, you can put whatever you want on yours. This is Ethan’s list, and he wants less sophisticated, smart, and good-looking.

In addition to all the rest of his attributes, Ethan always thought his guy would be a musician, probably a pianist. They would tour the world, playing together, fucking after every critically acclaimed performance. At ‘their’ passages, Ethan would always turn away from his audience…not to the extent of turning his back on them…oh, no…and smile into his lover’s eyes. His lover would smile back as the violin’s song soared above the piano’s more pedestrian notes.

But he was wrong. His perfect match isn’t a musician. He is an artist. Ethan can’t believe how ideally Justin fits his criteria. The fit is so exceptional, it scares him. Nothing has ever been perfect in Ethan’s life. Good, but not perfect. Getting into PIFA was good, but admittance to Juilliard or Curtis would have been perfect. But if…when…he wins the Heifitz, that will prove that Juilliard and Curtis were wrong when they rejected him. He tries not to think about the Heifitz, but it haunts him. Even when he’s fucking Justin, sometimes a thread of worry intrudes. Sometimes. Not that often. Having taken Justin away from…HIM…having Justin love him instead is almost as good as winning the Heifitz.

Everything about Justin is perfect. Now that he thinks about it, even his talent. If he were a musician, even an adoring accompanist, he’d be able to critique Ethan’s work and, frankly, Ethan loves having an uncritical boyfriend. All his life, people…mostly Zaide…have been criticizing Ethan’s playing. “That passage was too slow.” “More feeling, please.” “Very emotional, yes, but the technique…not good. Sloppy, schatze.” His grandfather was a miser with praise, spending it as if each word were worth a fortune. “If I don’t say anything, then you’ll know it was good,” Zaide said when Ethan begged for a compliment. Yeah, it was great having a lover who wouldn’t know sloppy execution if you hit him over the head with it.

Justin could still travel with him. Being an artist was a pretty portable talent, in Ethan’s opinion. Look how easily Justin had moved in with him. He’d picked up his sketch box and a couple of sketchpads, and that was it. Well, there was the computer. The computer that Brian had packed up for Justin. That kind of worried Ethan a little.

The computer and the tuition payments were like Brian keeping a line open to Justin. Okay, that worried Ethan more than a little because there was no getting around it: Brian was a helluva sexy guy. Ethan had caught himself thinking about fucking Brian a couple of times, but he squashed those thoughts right away. They were forbidden.

What bothered Ethan even more than thinking about being in bed with Brian, was knowing that sometimes Brian was in bed with Justin and him. They’d be messing around, and all of a sudden he’d see a look in Justin’s eyes that told him that either he’d omitted a move Brian would have made or that Brian would have done the same thing but better. He could see that, for at least a moment, Justin wasn’t with him any more. He was with Brian, at least for that flash. Then Ethan would have to think of something especially romantic to do for Justin, to remind him of what he’d never get from Brian.

He would talk, flood Justin’s ears with the words Brian refused to part with. They were artists, after all, and he knew what artists craved: gratitude from their audience, to be told how much their work is appreciated. Oh, Justin pleased him and he would let him know it.

Ethan knew that he was good for Justin. But he knew he wasn’t perfect.
****************************************************************************************************

Justin doesn’t fit in anywhere any more. Brian, Ethan. Ethan, Brian. So different, so difficult in such different ways. That damn poster that Brian commissioned made those differences real clear.

Collier’s party was all dim lights, wheat beer, jug wine, pretzels, and talk about somebody named Georgio and his chances at a competition and whether someone else would embarrass PIFA if they did get to compete. It was all very snide and catty, almost as snide as the remarks their over-permed host made about Ethan’s imaginary boyfriend. That’s when Justin decided he had better things to do than alternate between being bored and being annoyed to the point of rudeness. He left.

As he shivered at the bus stop, Justin remembered the night last week when Ethan noticed him working on the Carnivale poster.

Ethan leaned over my shoulder and looked at the god of parties I was creating. “What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s a poster I’m working on for a charity event.” I tried to keep Brian’s name out of the conversation, but once Ethan heard about the $500 payment, he jumped to the correct conclusion.

“He’s just trying to win you back,” he said.

No, he wasn’t. I know Brian as well, or better than, I know Ethan, and that’s not how he’d go about it. “He can try all he wants,” I said. “What makes you think I would ever go?” I’d really like the answer to that question, but I never get it, no matter how many times and how many ways I ask it.

“I dunno. He’s rich, gorgeous, he can make cash appear magically.”

“Fuck the money. Fuck him.” And fuck you, Ethan, for saying that I was only with Brian for the money. “I want to be with you.” Are you listening, Ethan? Did you finally hear what I said?

He didn’t. That night, after we’d fucked and I was almost asleep, Ethan said, “I wish you’d turned down the money and refused to do the poster.”

That woke me up. “What the fuck, Ethan! We can use the money, but besides that the poster is for a fund-raiser for the GLBT Center, and that’s a cause I believe in.” I almost said I’d have done it for free, but I stopped myself just in time. If I had, we’d be back to talking about Brian’s ulterior motives in paying me. He has them, I’m sure, but I think they have more to do with me not getting enough to eat or having to live on the street than with getting me back. I know I’m still within the circle of people that Brian feels responsible for.

“O.K., I can understand that. It’s for a good cause.” He paused, then continued more hesitantly, “It’ll pay next month’s rent, which means I won’t have to be out on the street so much. I can put in some intensive time practicing for the Heifitz.”

Fuck. I never thought of that. I thought about contributing to our living expenses and maybe treating Ethan to a romantic dinner, but I never connected it to Ethan and the Heifitz. I said, “So it’s all good,” and yawned.

Ethan didn’t answer. He just turned on the side he always sleeps on and pulled the blanket over his shoulder. It gets cold in the apartment after they turn down the heat for the night.

Brian had left his name at the door, as he promised. Once in, Justin stood still for a moment and let the chaos sink in. He was dazzled by a kaleidoscope of penises and breasts, dildoes and leather, and fucking and butthole Bingo. Brian had out-done himself. “Enter at your own risk. Prepare to be fucked.” That’s was the message Brian had said he wanted the party god on the poster to convey. Carnivale itself met his criteria: it was sexy and outrageous and edgy and fun.

But those words, “Enter at your own risk. Prepare to be fucked.” They were even more true of the loft, the loft that held so many memories, that had so many potential pitfalls, that he couldn’t seem to get away from. He’d met Brian there last week, to get his preliminary assessment of the poster.

He’d walked in and handed it to Brian. Brian took it and went back to the table, propping himself up on it. Justin stayed where he was, a few feet from the door.

Why the fuck did Brian have to be so beautiful, in his jeans and plain gray T-shirt? How the hell did he radiate enough sexual magnetism that I could feel it from six feet away?

Brian said, “The expression on his face needs to be more enticing…. You could probably get a better view if you stood a little closer.”

Yeah. He didn’t say, I double-dare you, but he might as well have. I walked over and half-sat, half-stood next to him. I looked down and my leg, bent at the knee, was dangerously close to his. I said, “It’s always all about sex.” I was talking about the poster, of course, but I was thinking, He snags my leg with his, he cups the back of my head with one of those big, powerful hands, and pulls me to him, and I’m dead. The air between us was crackling with invitation and acceptance..

Then Mikey opened the door, saying, “I brought Chinese,” and I was saved. I think that was salvation.

Justin stood still and watched Brian make his way toward him, shadowed by a darkly sexy guy in a Speedo. The guy looked amazingly like Justin’s conception of the party god except that his cock was smaller.

Brian said, “You made it.”

Justin smiled and said that he wanted to see how everything was going.

Brian asked about Ethan. “You should have brought him.”

Justin thought, Sure I should have. Brian would love nothing better than to have Ethan on his turf, uncomfortable and embarrassed by the raunchy display.

“No, I don’t think so,” Justin said.

“He could have learned a few things they don’t teach in college.” Things Brian had to teach me because they don’t teach them in high school either.

Mr. Party God Jr. came up behind Brian and gave Justin a ‘Fuck off’ glare. Leaving’s probably a good idea before I meet Emmett and Ted and Mikey and maybe even Deb and have to explain what I’m doing here. And why I won’t stay. Without explaining that if I stay, I’ll end up in the backroom on my knees, sucking a familiar dick and jerking myself off. No. I’m leaving.

He smiled at Brian once more and threaded his way through the crowd to the door. He’d be home when Ethan got there. Fewer explanations that way.

**** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> ****

“The investigation’s been dropped, Brian. And I don’t think your nephew will ever be pulling a stunt like that again.”

“Thanks, Carl,” Brian stated matter-of-factly. Outside he was the picture of calm collectedness. Inside, relief mixed with white-hot hate for the people he'd once considered family was coursing through his veins.

“Before I let you go, Deb wants to talk to you for a minute.”

“No…,” but the phone was already being passed. Brian wasn’t in the mood…didn’t think he could stand to hear her say, ‘She’s still your mother," yet another time. However, it was too late.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi, Deb.”

“How ya doin?”

“Fine.”

“Listen, I know it’s been a rough few weeks for you…first with Justin leaving and all and now this."

“Can it, Deb. I said I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine and you're gonna hear me out.”

It was useless to argue. Brian knew from experience that the quickest way to get through this was to just shut up and agree with her whenever she took a breath.

“I know I haven't been your biggest fan lately either, and I'm sorry. I love you, kid. You know that, right?"

Brian cleared his throat and tilted his head to the side. The, 'yeah' came out cracked and little more than a whisper.

"Good, because God forgive me for sayin’ this, but your mother and sister make the devil look like a gentleman. And after this last little episode, the sooner they join him, the happier I'll be." She paused briefly and then continued, "I'm sorry...I know they're still your family and all."

This brought a smile to Brian's face. For years Deb had struggled to not overstep her bounds where the Kinneys were involved, resulting in the only conversations where she genuinely seemed to pick her words and consider their implications. The thought of her finally showing her true colors and Joanie and Claire in a threesome with Beelzebub warmed his heart.

"It's OK, Deb. They are already there as far as I'm concerned." And then, in an attempt to bring this conversation to its overdue conclusion, "Tell Carl, thanks again for his help on this."

"Don't thank Carl. It was Justin who saved your ass on this one, Brian."

"Justin?"

"Yeah, the kid notices things. He tracked your little shit head of a nephew down and was able to prove he was lying. He still cares about you, but you're too stubborn to see it and he's too proud to tell you."

"So that makes it your job?"

"Damn right."

"Are you through?"

"Almost. Next time I talk to Sunshine, I want to hear that you thanked him, you got that?"

"Yes, Mom," Brian replied mockingly.

"Good, I like to think I brought you boys up right."

Brian hung up the phone and thanked a God he didn't believe in for Deb. As a result of their conversation, it came as no surprise to find Justin on the other side of his door later that evening, bracelet in hand. He was nothing if not punctual.

The thanks he promised Deb and gave to Justin certainly didn't properly convey the gratitude he felt. Gratitude over the fact that, more than anything, they were still friends and that the cloud that seemed to be surrounding him these past few weeks was lifting. That's not to say he wouldn't have fucked Justin right there on the landing had he not wanted to get back to his boyfriend. But, for the time being at least, Brian was content being his friend.

And leave it to Justin to make friendship difficult. At the moment the boy’s dick was in a twist over the fact that Brian had given his fiddler a crash course in the principles of successful business management. Justin had barged into Babylon last night and let him know, in the middle of an amazingly competent blowjob, that he didn’t approve.

Now Brian realized that he, of all people, probably shouldn’t have been the one to talk to Ethan, but it was painfully obvious no one else was about to. All that talk at the diner about what a romantic gesture it was to turn down a concert tour and possible recording contract on Justin’s behalf was enough to make him vomit.

On the surface, advising Ethan to take his agent's offer probably did appear like some juvenile attempt to win Justin back, but it wasn't. God knows, there were easier and far more enjoyable ways to do that. A romantic dinner, a good bottle of wine, and a hot fast fuck followed by a long slow one could accomplish that task by midnight if that had been his goal.

Nope, Brian approached Ethan for an entirely different reason and now, if he wanted to remain Justin’s friend, he was going to have to call and make up. What a pain in the ass. ‘Fucking children,’ Brian mused as he punched the familiar code that was still on his cell.

"What?" came Justin's irritated reply on the third ring.

"Is that any way to answer the phone? Didn't that high-priced, homophobic, high school your parents sent you to teach you anything?"

"Fuck you. What do you want, Brian?"

"Not that, so don't go getting all hot and sticky. I called to apologize."

"You? Apologize? Give me a break."

"No, really. The remark I made in the backroom about the blond boy ass was a little harsh, but you caught me at a bad time. You know…coitus interruptus and all."

"I think you have more to be sorry for than just that."

"I will not apologize for the free career counseling I gave Ian."

"Ethan."

"Whatever."

"We were perfectly happy without your interference. Isn't it enough that you and I couldn't be happy together? Must you ruin this relationship for me also?"

"Justin, you're perfectly happy, because you still get a hard on whenever he rosins up his bow. What happens when that wears off and he resents you for stifling everything he has worked for all of his life?”

“Do you actually think I believe you’re doing this for Ethan’s good, Brian?”

“No, because I’m not. I don’t give a rat’s ass about Ethan’s good. I’m doing it for the same reason I do everything.”

“And that is?”

“For me, of course. If there is one thing I can’t stand, it is people who fail to live up to their potential. Fear, family, lack of funds, self imposed obligations, and, god forbid…LOVE keep more people than I can count mired in mediocrity. In addition, the faster he becomes an overnight success, the faster you’ll pay me back all the money you owe me.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“Think what you like, Justin. I actually find it pretty hard to believe that you want to hold back someone you claim to care about.”

“I don’t want to hold him back, Brian. But I also don’t want to live a lie.”

“It’s only lying when they make you lie.”

Justin was silent, but Brian could still hear him breathing on the other end of the call.

"And by the way, who said we couldn't be happy together?"

Turning the phone off, Brian tossed it on the bed. "Fucking children," he repeated to himself as he snickered and stripped for the shower. Babylon awaited.
****************************************************************************************************

Ethan should be going over the score for the piece he’ll play in Harrisburg tonight, but instead he looks out the train window at the passing hills and thinks about Justin and himself and expectations.

Ethan has lived his whole life disappointing people’s expectations, he thinks, and now he’s disappointing Justin. First it was everybody’s expectation that he’d get into Juilliard or Curtis, so when he went to PIFA, they were disappointed. Then it was the same people expecting him to win the Heifitz. Despite signing with Glen Bishop, the second place finish was a disappointment.

The only one not disappointed by his loss…that’s what it was…second place is a loss…was Justin, but now the contract has disappointed him. He seemed to come around, to accept that Ethan couldn’t be openly gay, but that didn’t mean that being in the closet wasn’t eating away at him. That at some level he’s angry with Ethan. He’s also angry at Brian for interfering, which is good. However, there are plenty of other guys who’d love to take a beautiful, talented blond away from Ethan. The way Ethan took Justin away from Brian, come to think of it. That’s bad.

Ethan wishes he could spend a couple of hours, or a night, with someone who’d give him the kind of uncritical admiration Justin gave him in the beginning. Or even better, someone whose uncritical admiration was free of memories of life with the Gay Sex God of Pittsburgh. Someone who’d be thrilled to spend some time with Ethan Gold.
As the train clatters through a tunnel, Ethan thinks it’s a good thing he’s a monogamous guy, or he could really be tempted. In Harrisburg, surrounded by strangers, nobody around who’d ever meet Justin or even know that he existed…yeah, thank heavens he’s not the type (like Justin, in all likelihood) who’d indulge in a quick fuck just because he’s out of town for 24 hours.

Ethan pulls out the score. He’d really better go over it one more time. He must do well tonight. No more disappointments.

**** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> ****

“Well, if it isn’t the lovely Ms. Chanders. Whatever brings you to Torso on your lunch hour?” Brian had been on his way to the diner when he spotted her sizing up a fucking ugly gray and black striped sleeveless shirt with a white tiger emblem. It was the type fancied by twinks at Babylon lately. Why, he had no idea.

“Brian!” Daphne exclaimed.

She could feel the blush come to her cheeks. He always had this effect on her. He may not have been perfect for Justin, but really, how could anyone in their right mind have chosen Ethan over him? She was embarrassed by her overly enthusiastic greeting and attempted to sound nonchalant as she dropped the shirt back onto the table and continued, “Um, just looking for something…for a friend.”

“Hmm,” Brian nodded, pulling in his lips and furrowing his brow, “anybody I know?”

“No,” came her all too quick reply.

Now she was flustered. Should she tell him Justin had appeared on her doorstep last night, hands bleeding and eyes nearly as red? Would he care that Ethan had cheated or just use this knowledge as ammunition against her best friend for walking out on him?

Brian flipped through a pile of shirts in the same display, pulled out a luxurious black one and tossed it to her saying, “Too bad. I can think of one mutual friend this would look hot on.”

Friend? Is that what Brian still considered him? Was there still hope?

Daphne picked up the shirt and held it to her cheek. “Mmm, this is nice…so soft.”

She sometimes wondered if she hadn’t mourned the loss of the Kinney/Taylor relationship more than Justin had. After all, he had Ethan to run to, and all she got out of it was the loss of this incredibly handsome, intelligent, sophisticated man who always treated her as someone very special. Not that there had ever been any hard feelings between the two of them, but without Justin, Brian didn’t have much need for a straight woman a dozen years his junior. She drew in a long breath and continued, “Let’s say I did buy this for a particular ‘mutual friend.’ Do you think it would cheer him up?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On the nature of what he needs cheering up from."

Oh fuck, she thought as the silence seemed to stretch out uncomfortably. She had backed herself into a corner. Now she either had to continue with this lie, or come clean. Daphne opted for the latter. “Well…how about for being deceived by a cheating, lying ass boyfriend?"

Brian batted his eyes and smiled, "Why, Daphne, and all this time I thought you liked me."

"Not you, Brian," she said earnestly. "You never lied to him. He'd kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but that bastard Justin was living with cheated on him."

There, I’ve said it, she thought and thankfully, there’s no smile of satisfaction on Brian’s face.

"Really didn't care much for Ian, now did you?"

"No!” she exclaimed. “I never trusted him. One night!” She emphasized the point by pausing and shaking her head, “They were apart for one lousy night and Ethan screwed some fanboy.” And then, looking up at Brian she asked sincerely, “How lame is it to be a violin groupie anyway?"

Brian couldn't help but laugh. "Pretty fucking lame, Daph…or deaf. I told him those things always sounded like someone was torturing a cat to me."

"Well, now he's the tortured one. I’m happy they aren’t together anymore, but it was sad to see how hurt he was when he came by last night.”

"Ah, young love. I wouldn’t worry too much, he'll get over it."

She knew he was right, but couldn’t resist a come back that might give her some clue as to his true feelings. "Like you did?"

"Don't go there. I may be young but I wasn't in love."

Daphne lowered her eyes and began folding the shirt Brain had tossed to her. Why did relationships have to be so complicated and why did this man have such a hard time admitting he ever felt anything?

“Well, at this point, I'd actually be happy if he brought somebody home and got laid...I mean...if that's what it takes.” Looking back up at him, she wished she could have taken those words back but all she could muster was, “Sorry."

Brian shrugged "Hey, don't be. It worked for me."

“It worked for you? Ha!” She slapped him on the arm, “I thought somebody just told me he wasn’t in love.”

Wordlessly Brian picked up the black shirt and walked over to the counter. “She’ll be taking this,” he advised the salesperson loud enough for Daphne to hear, “and probably that other God awful one as well. Put it on my tab.”

Daphne beamed as she watched him walk out the door and over to the diner where a certain blond would surely be working the lunch hour crowd.

**** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> ****

Justin shifted the box he was carrying to his other hand and jiggled the key in the lock to Ethan’s apartment. The damn thing had to be romanced to get the tumblers to fall and let you in, but by now he had the technique down pat. The door opened, and he stepped inside unhesitatingly. Ethan was in Buffalo, filling in again for the ailing Josef Treblinck.

Besides, Justin thought, so what if he were here? I could handle him, easily, however he reacted. But this way – no dramatics.

A quick look around – What a dump! – and he moved purposefully to the room’s only closet. His duffle was still on the floor, pushed to one side and half-packed. There hadn’t been enough room in the one chest of drawers for all of his clothes. He moved to the bureau and began pulling his clothes out of the bottom drawer: briefs, a couple of turtlenecks, and several tees. His socks were in the top drawer, mingling with Ethan’s. He sorted through them and packed his. Then back to the closet. He’d forgotten to grab his old sneakers.

As he swung around toward the bathroom, his eye lit on the couch he and Ethan had rescued from death-by-trash-truck. Lumpy and bearing some suspicious stains from its previous owner, it was still an improvement over no couch at all, especially after they’d covered it with a bedspread they found at Goodwill. His eye lingered for a moment, and suddenly he was flashing on the loft and Brian’s sleek white leather couch.

He sees himself, and Brian, spooned on the couch, watching one of Brian’s guilty pleasures, “Young Frankinstein.” It is winter, and the high ceilings in the loft make it difficult to keep comfortable, but Justin is warm all down his back and legs, wherever his body touches Brian’s. Even his mid-section, where Brian’s arm wraps around him, is toasty.

“Walk this way,” Igor says, and Justin giggles. He thinks he feels Brian smile behind him, and then Brian moves, grinding very slowly against his ass. Justin is undistracted. He’s only seen “Young Frankinstein” once before – it was before his time – and he wants to catch all the dialogue. Gradually, however, the grinding gets firmer and speeds up a bit, although it is still almost leisurely. Brian’s arm tightens and pulls him in even closer.

This goes on for quite a while before his body starts reacting. He squirms a little, then pushes against Brian’s arm, and turns in place. He reaches down, unsnaps the top button on Brian’s jeans, and slides his hand down to cover Brian’s cock. “About time,” Brian murmurs.

Justin drops his head back and smiles at Brian. He moves his hand down Brian’s cock and cups his balls gently. Brian’s body jolts, and Justin feels Brian’s hand slide down his back, under the waistband of his sweats to cup his ass. Justin unsnaps Brian’s jeans completely and presses against him, rubbing up against Brian’s cock. His own cock slides against the soft cotton of his sweatpants, and his breath hitches.

Justin moves slowly at first, mimicking Brian, but the heat builds and he feels that familiar itch, that feeling of must-have-more, must-intensify, must must must. He jerks his sweats down and presses his cock against Brian’s, feeling Brian’s heat, his own heat doubling in response. He moans, and Brian wraps his hand around both their dicks. Justin gasps and moves faster….

Justin shook his head, adjusted his jeans, and opened the door to the bathroom. Toothbrush, leave the toothpaste for Ethan, brush and comb, deodorant, razor and shaving cream…what else? Oh, yeah, shampoo. He gave a quick glance at the tub. It needed scrubbing. Not my problem, he thought.

An unwanted picture of the shower enclosure at the loft flitted through his mind: steam and biceps and the smell of shampoo. He has a soapy sponge in his hand, and he’s rubbing circles over tits and abs, then he’s dropping to his knees on the ridged floor of the shower and….

Stop it, asshole. Pack up your computer in the box you brought with you – ‘cause Ethan would never think to have packed it up for you - and get the hell out of here. Time to get on with your life. Forget Ethan. Forget the fury you felt when you found out he’d cheated on you and lied about it so convincingly. Forget the surge of relief you felt, under your anger, that it wasn’t you who had to precipitate the inevitable crisis.

Forget Brian. Forget going down on Brian in the front seat of the Jeep, forget being bent over the counter in the kitchen, forget grinding against Brian on the dance floor, forget walking off with Brian’s trick, smiling in triumph. Forget everything….

Brian’s over. He’s in the past. I’ve moved on, and Brian’s moved on…although…at Babylon…. It may have looked like I was fucking my trick, and he was getting his dick sucked, but that wasn’t what was really happening. So maybe…maybe….

**** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> **** <*> ****

It was 3:11 in the morning. He knew because his computer screen kept reminding him. The loft was dark, save for the light it was spreading across his desk. Brian had slept for only an hour or two, before waking up around 2:00 a.m. After a restless 45 minutes, he had gotten up to take a look at his calendar. This Stockwell thing had taken up an inordinate amount of his time lately and didn’t show any signs of letting up.

He contemplated the direction his life had taken over the past few months. The time between then and now had changed him. He had lost and regained his best friend, had further severed ties with his biological family and had done something he’d sworn he would never do.

“I gave it some thought. I decided you should take me back.”

And he did. Right there on his desk at Vangard…brutally… as the bruises on Justin’s back would attest to by tomorrow. It would have been more comfortable for him had Brian simply bent him over that desk, but right then he wasn’t interested in Justin’s comfort. He was going to look at him…make sure Justin saw his face…saw what he was giving him that he had never given to any other man. Justin had looked and, Brian thought now, Justin had seen the emotions that Brian, for once, hadn’t hidden.

“Even though I have made a few mistakes, I think you’d be making an even bigger one not to give me a second chance.”

A second chance in my bed will be a pleasure. Words he thought but did not voice.
Justin was there now and probably would be for several more nights until both of them were too exhausted and raw to continue. Then they would part for a day or two…maybe even a week. A second chance in my home will be harder to come by, Mr. Taylor.
I will not become that vulnerable quite so quickly again. Tricks will continue to come and go in the loft, but you will be the guy I fuck more than once. Many, many times more.

“Cause now I understand what it is you want of me; and I know what I can expect from you.”

Don’t be too sure. I plan see to it that you never know what to expect.

After their initial session in the office, they drove to the loft in relative silence. Brian concentrated on getting back to the loft as quickly as possible, but when he took his eyes off the road long enough to shoot a glance at Justin, the little shit had his head back against the seat and his eyes shut. He looked content. Brian said, “Don’t go to sleep on me. We aren’t done.”

Justin’s lips curled up just slightly, but he didn’t open his eyes. “I hope not.”

Brian grunted and drove a little faster.

Once in the elevator, Brian wrapped himself around Justin and the man relaxed into his arms. Brian buried his nose in the soft blond hair, smelling sweat and shampoo and…Justin.

Walking him backwards, Brian had the button on Justin’s pants open before they reached the elevator’s back wall. He started to drop to his knees, then straightened up again. “No,” he said. He thought how seldom he actually sucked dick. Despite thinking of himself as a cocksucker – he was never going down on anyone in Babylon’s backroom, that was for sure – and how long it had been since he’d given Justin head, he didn’t want this encounter to be rushed. He wanted to fill his mouth with Justin and feel him getting hard, feel his excitement mount, control his orgasm. He could feel the rush to his own groin right now, just thinking about it.

“No?” Justin asked. He sounded like he was smiling.

“I want you naked and flat on your back for this.”

Justin cooperated. As soon as they were in the door, he hopped first one foot, then the other, pulling off shoes and socks. His pants were already open; his briefs went with them. Brian threw his suit coat over the back of the couch and pulled Justin’s shirt off roughly. Justin started slowly backing up toward the bed as Brian stripped off his slacks. As soon as Brian was naked, Justin turned and ran for the bed. He tossed the duvet to the floor and knelt there, on the mattress, facing Brian.

“I said, on your back.” Brian’s voice was a growl.

“Feeling a bit bossy?”

Brian shoved at Justin’s shoulder, knocking him sideways, then grabbed his ankles and pulled his legs out straight. “More than a bit.”

Justin pushed himself up on his elbows and wriggled up the bed, giving Brian ample room to maneuver. Brian followed him, then seized Justin’s left hand and gave it a quick jerk. “That’s right,” he said. “Flat on your back.”

He pushed Justin’s legs further apart and, curling around him, sucked the tip of Justin’s cock into his mouth. Justin reached out and ran his hand through Brian’s hair as Brian tightened and loosened his grip on the cap of Justin’s cock. “Feels good,” Justin murmured. Feels right, he thought.

Brian could feel Justin’s cock firming up, straightening out. He probed the slit, then ran his tongue down the big vein on the underside, wetting it thoroughly. Next he pulled back slightly and blew on it, watching it jerk. Justin made a small noise, not quite a moan, and Brian smiled. He hadn’t forgotten how to make Justin squirm.

Brian licked and sucked and teased at Justin’s cock until it was rigid, swollen, and leaking. When he drew back and reached for the lube, Justin moaned, then gasped when Brian blew on his wet cock again. “Brian. Please.”

“What’s the matter? You in some kind of a hurry?”

“No. Yes. I dunno. Just….” Justin gasped again when the cold lube touched his crack. Brian immediately engulfed Justin’s cock, simultaneously pushing two lubed fingers into Justin’s asshole. Justin’s whole body went taut, and he hissed. Brian eased off for a moment and said, “Like that?”

Justin put his hand on Brian’s head and pushed down. “Please…please.”

“Can you take three fingers in your ass? Three of my fingers? If I swallow you at the same time?”

Justin responded with a whimper, his breath catching as Brian pulled his fingers out and pushed in three.

“I hope that was a yes,” Brian said, his eyes on Justin’s face. Justin’s eyes were squeezed shut in anticipation. Brian curved his fingers and tapped his partner’s prostate. Justin caught his breath and held it until Brian dropped down on his cock, swallowing and sucking. Justin screamed, his body arched and clenched, and he filled Brian’s mouth with semen.

Brian rolled over and reached for the lube. His cock needed immediate attention. It was as hard and distended as Justin’s had been a few moments ago. Before he could squeeze a little into his hand, Justin stopped him. “My turn,” he said and enveloped Brian’s dick with his mouth, his tongue pressing hard on the underside of Brian’s penis.

As the heat rushed through Brian, he felt something shift and click back into place. Justin in his bed, his dick in Justin. His world had righted itself again, not that he planned to tell Justin that. He rubbed his knuckles along Justin’s cheek. I’m petting him, Brian thought, and mentally shook his head. Then sensation overtook him, he gripped Justin’s shoulder, and the world narrowed down in a familiar, welcome way.

They had both fallen asleep, but it was now 4:17 and he still didn’t feel particularly tired. In less than two hours his alarm would be blaring. He should have thought to turn it off when they went to bed, but it hadn’t been the first thing on his mind at the time. He should have known there would be little or no sleep for him this night. Now he heard Justin stirring.

“Brian? Where are you?”

“Out here…at the computer.”

“Aww…I’m cold.”

“I can fix that.”

Brian smiled as he logged off. His calendar could wait, Stockwell could wait, fuck…the whole world could wait…as he had been waiting for nearly three months. The time between then and now had lasted far too long.