Those two months took up a hazy, almost dream-like quality in Justin’s memory as soon as he left Pittsburgh and went back to New York—this time on a first class plane ticket. The minute he touched down at LaGuardia they faded, somehow. He could remember living them, but they didn’t seem real.
Not when he was walking down Sixth Avenue on one of the first true days of spring with his messenger bag over his shoulder and a coffee in his hand, on his way to meet Georgie to plan the next show. Not when he had brunch at the same little hole in the wall diner with the same people every Sunday. Not when he had interviews with art critics and journalists, still riding the wave of publicity after the last show as it propelled him to the upper echelons of the New York art world.
New York was home in ways Pittsburgh never had been, and Justin felt comfortable there. The tall buildings of Manhattan that towered over him and made him feel insignificant and small but inspired some of his best work, seemed almost like guardians. The twisting streets and markets of Brooklyn seemed to have their own language and culture, and he finally felt like he was able to understand. The Lower East Side thrummed with rhythm and life, and the beat from the clubs in Chelsea pulsed under Justin’s skin like a living, breathing thing.
But sometimes, even with New York pressing in on him from every side and taking up room in his mind, Justin couldn’t help but think back to the nearly three months he’d spent in Pittsburgh. It was had been his longest break from the city since he’d moved there, and Justin had to put the memories away.
Because if he let himself remember he thought about stumbling to the diner almost every day, desperate in a search for coffee (even though Brian had a machine so complicated that it probably could’ve imported the coffee beans itself through the miracles of its little computer-brain) and Deb’s loud, overbearing encouragement. About how easy it was to find someone to sit with because he didn’t just meet them there on Sunday mornings: Ted was there before work and Emmett was usually there between his client meetings throughout the day. Hunter, despite being a student at Carnegie Mellon and having access to one of the best libraries in the state, seemed to like to study in the corner booth late at night and always slid over to make room for Justin. Michael was in and out every day from Red Cape and once or twice, Justin had found Ben in a booth by himself.
He thought about the way he could call his mom or stop by her office and go out to lunch with Molly when she wasn’t busy (which was almost never, but it was the fact that he could that was important). The way he could jog over to Red Cape and sketch a rough outline for Michael when inspiration struck, rather than waiting for an email reply that could sometimes take more than a day. How everyone knew him when he walked down the street, and it wasn’t because he was Brian Kinney’s Twink or That Kid Who Got Bashed or The Old King of Babylon or even The One Who Did The Posters Against Stockwell. It was because he was Justin Taylor, and Justin Taylor had been making a name for himself on Liberty Avenue since he stood under a streetlamp and something about him attracted and snared Brian Kinney.
And most of all, Justin thought about the loft, and Brian. About how Brian would come home from work and change and sit next to Justin on the couch, mocking whatever was on the television but putting up with it anyway. About how he sometimes brought home takeout (and sometimes called Justin and bitched at him to order from “that goddamned Greek place, you know the one, with the spinach pastries?”). About the way they went to Woody’s and Babylon more often than not, and the comforting burn of alcohol would keep Justin warm as they walked in the cold of the Pittsburgh winter. About how he sometimes heard Brian working at his desk late in the night and how he knew that Brian was just barely going gray at the temples but covering it with dye, because he’d been there to see a box on the counter one morning.
About how Justin had spent nearly three months in the loft without Brian’s cock up his ass but with Brian sleeping beside him in the bed, a constant presence in the way Justin had been missing with a relentless, almost visceral ache that he hadn’t even realized was there until it was gone.
About the drive they didn’t take to West Virginia, because of a promise that the next time they went there, it would be for more than a quick fuck on drop cloths with heaters that had to be coaxed into working or even a vacation away from their lives.
And despite all the ways Justin loved New York and tried not to think about it, he was still sometimes so homesick it hurt.
.:.:.:
Brian came to New York again just over a month after Justin had left Pittsburgh, just in time for the opening night of Justin’s newest show.
He got there with just minutes to spare, throwing open the door of a town car just after Justin finished locking up his studio and was stepping off the curb to hail a cab.
Justin raised his eyebrows. “Impeccable timing, Mr. Kinney,” he said, fidgeting with the line of his suit as he sat back.
Brian smirked. “I always come on time. And stop fucking with your suit,” he snapped, flicking Justin’s hands away. “The flawless tailoring of that Italian masterpiece doesn’t need any assistance from you.”
Justin stopped running his hands along the material and sat back, only to start tapping his fingers on his knee. Brian let that pass without comment, but when the car stopped in front of the gallery and Justin opened the door, Brian snagged his wrist and held him back, just for a moment, and kissed him long and hard before sitting back and regarding Justin critically.
“Exquisite,” he said, his mouth twisted up into something almost a smile.
.:.:.:
The show was made up of the second set of paintings Justin had done in Pittsburgh, and he viewed them as almost a sequel to the collection that had been shown months before. The centerpiece of the second set was much larger than any of those in the first show had been and, though they had the same heavy brushstrokes and stark lines, the feelings conveyed through each one were so different most people missed the similar style. The smaller piece Justin had done of Brian in New York months ago and left out of the first show because it hadn’t seemed to fit formed the centerpiece here—he’d done several studies and expanded the original into a large piece that took up nearly the entirety of the back wall. For the first time, the process he went through when painting was on display and according to the murmurs floating around (and Georgie’s well-placed contacts) it was considered a success.
“Justin, darling,” Gerorgie made a beeline for him the minute the last guest left and enveloped him in a hug that smelled faintly of Chanel, “you’ve done it again. I must admit, I’m incredibly pleased.”
“Of course you are,” Brian observed dryly from across the gallery, where he was examining the original painting that had inspired the series. “He’s making you fucking filthy rich.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Georgie admitted with a dismissive wave of her hand, used to Brian’s bluntness. It was, in fact, one of the main reasons she liked him. “That too.”
She took a quick drink of the whisky she kept in a flask in her purse for opening nights (“to settle the nerves, darling”) and shrugged elegantly with one small shoulder. “But the art is somehow even better than when I took young Justin here on as a client so many years ago, and that’s fucking amazing.”
Justin just shrugged back. “I paint because I have to, Georgiana,” he reminded her for what was probably the hundredth time this year, gesturing around the gallery to indicate just how much of that need was on display tonight.
She waved a dismissive hand. “Not because you have a show, yes, yes, I know. You’ve explained the temperamental artist brain to me far to many times, darling, but I’m afraid my profit-calculating brain just can’t comprehend it even when you call and tell me you’re going to be ready for a second major show mere months after the first. But if it gets us results like these,” and here she beamed, looking around at the sold out gallery, “I’m certainly not going to complain.”
.:.:.:
Justin spent the ride back to the hotel staring out the window at the New York skyline, lost in his own thoughts and coming down from the high of a successful show.
Brian knew enough to let him process, but when they got to the hotel he apparently decided he’d given Justin enough time. He shoved Justin up against the door to the suite as soon as it closed and worked one of his thighs between Justin’s legs, pressing it against Justin’s rapidly hardening cock.
A switch in Justin’s brain suddenly flipped and he moaned, arching down against the pressure as fumbled for the buttons of Brian’s shirt.
“I don’t think so, Sunshine,” Brian said, backing up and pulling Justin towards the bed and shoving him down. “We’ll be having sex on a mattress tonight.”
Justin leaned back on his elbows and watched as Brian undressed. “How very…unoriginal,” he teased, starting to slide a hand up and down his own cock as Brian crawled up the bed, now completely naked.
“Oh, not quite,” Brian answered, his voice dark with promise as he brought a heavy hand down on the side of Justin’s thighs, almost on his ass. “Roll over.”
Justin choked back a moan and didn’t argue. He rarely did, when Brian started this kind of game.
But Brian made him wait, smoothing his hands down Justin’s ass and smacking the left side, leaving what Justin knew would be a bright red flush.
Justin arched up into that too and Brian chuckled, low and deep. “Like getting your ass spanked, Sunshine?”
Justin buried his face in the pillow and ignored the fact that he could feel it turning red as Brian brought another hand down, ensuring the color of his ass would match.
“That’s okay,” Brian murmured, his voice wicked, bringing his hand down again as Justin shoved up to meet it. “I don’t need you to answer. Your body does it for you.”
Justin moaned as Brian gave a final slap and bent down, shoving his tongue in Justin’s ass so fast Justin almost yelled in surprise. He bit the pillow to muffle the sounds, but Brian slapped him again and pulled away.
“I want to hear you,” he said, sliding up Justin’s back to speak directly in his ear. “I want to hear you moan while I use my tongue to fuck your ass. And then when I slide my fingers in you I want to hear you beg me for my cock. And then,” he paused, biting lightly down on Justin’s ear, “when I slide into you and use my cock to fuck you into the mattress, I want to hear you beg me to fuck you harder.”
Justin shivered with want as Brian slid back down, licking around his hole before diving back in, eating Justin out with quick, little darts of his tongue that made Justin shove back against his face. That earned him another slap, but Justin didn’t stop. He just moaned, exactly like Brian said he would.
Sometime after that Justin lost track of time, rocking against the mattress and grinding his cock down on every forward thrust and his ass back into Brian’s mouth every chance he got. The sensations stopped being distinct and melded into a haze of pleasure and want and “fuck, Brian, please more.”
When Brian pulled back Justin tried to move with him and moaned in disappointment when he couldn’t, his ass feeling open and empty.
“Fuck me,” he gasped, still pushing up to try and get more of Brian’s mouth.
But Brian just laughed.
“No, no, no, Sunshine,” he murmured, leaning over Justin’s back again, his breath ruffling Justin’s hair. “Don’t you remember? I’m going to finger you first.”
Justin distantly heard Brian pop the cap on the lube and waited, barely breathing, just wanting some part of Brian in him as soon as possible.
Brian slid the first finger in and it wasn’t nearly enough. Justin shoved back against him, making a displeased noise in his throat.
“You want another?” Brian’s voice was smug.
“You fucker,” Justin gasped out, moving to try and get Brian’s finger where he wanted it.
Brian laughed again and slid two more fingers in at once. Justin bit his lip to avoid crying out at the shock and Brian’s hand came down on his ass again.
“Let me hear you or I’ll stop,” Brian warned, flexing his fingers.
“Fucker,” Justin gasped again, breaking off on a moan as Brian’s fingers just barely skated over his prostate.
“Yes,” Brian agreed equably. “But not yet.”
Justin knew that tone and would’ve cringed if he hadn’t been so distracted by Brian’s fingers.
“First,” Brian continued, “I’m going to keep fingering your ass—as long as you tell me what I want to know. You stop, I stop.”
He didn’t give Justin a chance to reply, just flexed his fingers and cleared his throat. “Let’s start with an easy one,” he said, his voice very close. “Have you had anyone else’s fingers up your ass since you left Pittsburgh?”
“No,” Justin shuddered as Brian’s fingers flexed inside him.
“Have you gone to your knees for anyone else?” Brian’s voice was even, with almost no inflection. “Have you opened your pretty little mouth and sucked cock?”
Justin paused and Brian stilled his fingers. “No.”
“Good boy.” Brian’s voice was rich with approval. “Now for another. A little more difficult, but still nothing I don’t already know.”
“You were so desperate when I took your cock in my mouth,” Brian said, almost conversationally. “I thought you were going to come in what would’ve been a truly embarrassing amount of time, right there on the leather seats of the town car.”
Justin moaned, remembering how he’d been bent over Brian’s cock almost before the car pulled away from the curb, wanting to taste him. He’d used all his skill to get Brian off as quickly as possible and then moaned in want as Brian slid over and undid Justin’s pants before fastening his mouth over Justin’s cock and started to suck, hard and fast, getting him off well before they reached the gallery.
Brian flexed his fingers. “Has your dick been sucked since I put you on the plane in Pittsburgh?”
Justin froze.
So did Brian. And when Justin didn’t say anything, Brian started to pull his fingers out, making sure to brush the tips across Justin’s prostate.
“No,” Justin blurted, embarrassed and angry, just before Brian’s fingers would’ve been all the way out, and Brian rewarded him by slamming them back in, all three at once.
“Good boy,” Brian said again as Justin moaned louder than he had before, forgetting everything but Brian’s fingers in his ass.
Brian pulled them out slowly and ran his other hand through Justin’s hair, sweaty and damp against his forehead, before bending down again. “Now I’m going to fuck you,” he continued, his breath hot against Justin’s skin. “It’s going to be hard, and fast, and it’s not going to be anything like the first time.”
Justin arched back toward Brian and moaned as he distantly heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper, pushing himself up and on his knees.
He felt Brian move into place behind him and felt Brian’s cock brush against his ass. But Brian didn’t move.
Justin rocked backwards, but Brian just kissed Justin’s spine. “One more.”
Justin groaned, dropping his head down into the pillows. “God damn it, Brian,” he panted. “What the fuck else could you possibly want to know?”
Brian paused and placed the head of his cock against Justin’s hole, rocking forward just enough to tease.
“When were you going to tell me you’re moving back?” he said roughly, just before he thrust in forcefully. Justin moaned, his back arching as he tried to get more of Brian’s cock inside him.
Brian set a relentless pace, and Justin wanted to bring a hand down and finally get himself off, but he needed both to brace against the headboard and Brian drove them both forward.
“Well?” Brian said, barely sounding winded. It took Justin a few seconds to remember what Brian had asked and he shook his head.
“Now, Sunshine,” Brian said implacably, slowing the fuck even as Justin tried to move back against him to keep the pace.
“You bastard,” Justin choked out, trying to fuck himself back on Brian’s cock. Brian just laughed and stopped, still hard inside Justin, with his hands holding Justin’s hips in place. Justin clenched down and even though he heard Brian’s quick gasp through clenched teeth, Brian didn’t move an inch.
“Well?” Brian said again, bringing his hand down against Justin’s ass.
Justin moaned and dropped his head down to the pillows. “Tonight. Tomorrow. Whenever,” he said, breathing fast, struggling to get the words out. “I didn’t exactly have a plan.”
Brian laughed and thrust in, harder than before. Justin shuddered and clenched his hands on the sheets, just holding on as Brian finally set the pace he wanted. Justin felt the fuck taking over and tried to relax into it and let it happen, but his body had been wound too tight for too long. Every time Brian thrust in Justin’s muscles coiled tighter and his breath was coming in quick, desperate pants. When Brian shifted the angle and thrust directly against the place Justin had been trying to get him for what seemed like hours, Justin squeezed his eyes shut and came on a sobbing breath, barely cognizant enough to realize Brian was only seconds behind him.
.:.:.:
Justin lost several minutes and by the time he’d regained motor function, Brian had pulled out, gone to get a wet washcloth, and cleaned them both up. He was laying beside Justin in the bed and smoking a cigarette, and Justin just held out his left hand.
Brian passed it over and smirked down at him.
Justin took a drag and inwardly grimaced. He’d come without either of them touching his cock before, but it was rare enough that it made Brian smug for days when it happened.
Brian just smirked some more and lit another cigarette.
.:.:.:
When Justin woke up in the morning Brian was already awake and fully dressed, working on his laptop and drinking coffee from a hotel mug.
Justin made a displeased noise and stuck his hand out, and Brian pushed a second mug of coffee his way.
“Nice of you to join the world of the living,” Brian remarked carelessly, and Justin just made another noise. It was too early for conversation.
At least he thought it was, until he remembered what Brian had said last night.
“How did you know?” Justin asked curiously, his voice rough and almost an octave too low.
Brian smirked. “Please, Sunshine,” he said, shutting the laptop and leaning back in the chair. “As Babylon’s owner I make it my business to know about my current and prospective neighbors. Particularly when one of them is a famous artist renting studio space just a few doors down.”
Justin grimaced, taking several sips of coffee and vowing to make a sternly worded phone call in a few hours. “My mother let it slip?”
Brian grinned. “A good businessman never reveals his sources.”
.:.:.:
It took Justin almost a month to leave the city—he had last minute preparations to make and he wanted to see the show close. It felt like the end of an era.
But when Brian pulled up in the Corvette just behind the moving van, Justin knew he wasn’t going to regret the choice.
Justin leaned against the thick stone walls of the building, watching Brian instead of the movers who were still walking in and out of the door to the studio. Brian Kinney was still young and still beautiful, but in the light Justin could see there had been changes too. His mouth was softer than it had been when Justin met him under a street lamp and his eyes, even behind sunglasses, were warmer. There were a few fine lines that Justin was careful not to mention but just as careful to spend time kissing in case Brian decided to Botox them away. The dye boxes had left and the gray was coming in, just enough to shine in the light and nothing that anyone but an artist (or Brian, who was a goddamned queen about it) would notice.
“Brian Kinney,” Justin said, pushing up off the wall and walking to him.
“Justin Taylor,” Brian answered, the corner of his mouth turned up just slightly.
“You didn’t have to come,” Justin reminded him, grimacing when he realized what the answer to that was likely to be.
But Brian just smirked. “Ready?” he asked, his eyes searching Justin’s face, his tone serious.
Justin glanced over at the moving foreman, who gave him a nod.
He turned to Brian and grinned. “Looks like it.”
.:.:.:
The crossed the border into Pennsylvania in silence, and Justin could feel the tension in the car rising the closer they got to Pittsburgh. Just as he was about to ask, Brian surprised him by speaking first.
“Remember that last day in New York?” he asked, his voice quiet and his eyes firmly fixed on the road.
Justin glanced over, confused. “Which time?”
“The time I came to visit you,” Brian paused, clearly debating his words. “Before.”
“Oh.” Justin thought that was a very apt way to put it. “Yes.”
“It could be like that,” Brian said, his face serious. “If you wanted.”
“Like what?”
“No one fucks you but me,” Brian said, his voice even and carefully free from inflection.
Justin turned to watch Brian, confused. “If that’s a new development it’s news to me.”
“And you don’t fuck anyone but me,” Brian continued, his eyes on Justin’s.
“Yet again, that’s not going to be a change,” Justin reminded Brian, his tone sharp.
But Brian was silent and Justin thought about it again. He felt his eyebrows climb to his hairline as he realized what it could mean. “And same goes for you?” he said carefully, expecting Brian to correct him or laugh off Justin’s misunderstanding.
But he didn’t.
“Obviously,” he said, his tone implying Justin was being particularly stupid.
Justin sat in silence for a few miles, staring out the passenger side window and trying to get his thoughts together.
“I told you that didn’t matter,” he reminded Brian. “I meant it then and I mean it now.”
“You think I don’t fucking know that?” he said, his voice tense.
Justin glanced over at Brian, trying to read his face in profile behind the sunglasses.
“Then what?” he asked blankly.
Brian was quiet for several seconds. “I won’t risk you,” he said, his voice low and hard.
Justin dragged a hand through his hair and huffed out a breath. “Brian, I don’t trick anymore. You know that. You made me tell you that. More than once.”
“But I did,” Brian said, his voice rough now. “And it could’ve cost you.”
Justin shrugged. “One incident in thirteen years, Brian. Acceptable risk.”
Brian smashed a hand down on the steering wheel and Justin jumped. “It’s never an acceptable risk for you,” he bit out. “I need you safe. Always.”
“We are safe, Brian,” Justin reminded him, wishing Daphne was here to give him the statistics. “Even more so now.”
Brian was quiet and several miles passed in silence. “I’m not going to stop you from tricking.”
Justin turned to look at him so fast it felt like he’d almost given himself whiplash. “Jesus fucking Christ, Brian, how many times are you going to make me say it? I haven’t had sex, any kind of sex, with anyone but you in nearly a year. There? Are you happy? Do you want the exact date? Because I can give you that, too.
“I can remember the day I fucked a trick in some New York club and realized it didn’t help me stop missing you. Sure, my dick got hard, that’s not a surprise. But every time I fucked or sucked it just reminded me that they weren’t you and that you were hundreds of miles away and in the end, it just wasn’t worth it.”
Justin turned to stare out the passenger window, trying to steady his breathing.
“I haven’t fucked anyone but you since that time in New York.” Brian’s voice was quieter than Justin had ever heard it, and Justin almost asked Brian to repeat himself before thinking better of it.
Justin took a deep breath. “If that’s what you want, Brian, it’s been yours for awhile.”
Brian didn’t say anything, but Justin turned his head just enough to catch an almost imperceptible nod.
.:.:.:
It was almost four months later when Justin looked up from their bed at Britin and the Art Forum article he’d been reading to see Brian leaning against the doorframe with a wrapped condom in his hand.
Justin raised an eyebrow. “That’s a creative way to say ‘wanna fuck,’ even for you,” he teased, setting the magazine down. But Brian’s face stayed serious.
“I won’t ask you to give them up.”
Justin stared at Brian as the reason Brian insisted they’d go in for one last set of tests became clear.
“In plain English,” Justin said quietly, knowing this wasn’t something he could guess and fill in the blanks of what Brian didn’t say, and even from the bed he could see Brian’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.
“I don’t plan on fucking anyone else,” Brian said, his eyes on Justin’s face and his lips turned in as he slowly walked closer, “and I’d like to fuck you raw.”
The words were simple and nothing Justin had ever expected to hear from Brian since before he’d turned eighteen, but they still sent a bolt of lust through Justin.
“God,” he groaned as Brian reached the side of the bed, pulling Brian down, “yes. Now.”
Brian leaned forward and fastened a hand around the back of Justin’s neck, kissing him deep and slow. Justin tried to speed the pace up but Brian buried his other hand in Justin’s hair and pulled his head back.
“Patience is a virtue,” he smirked, peeling back the covers to find Justin already naked.
Justin groaned, fisting his hands in Brian’s t-shirt and pulling it upwards. “Fuck you,” he said, pulling Brian forward to kiss him again. “I’m not going to be patient for this.”
Brian leaned over Justin and grabbed the lube they left sitting on the side table, and Justin didn’t mention how, despite Brian’s easy words, he saw Brian’s hands nearly fumble the cap just before he rolled onto his stomach.
“No,” Brian said, slapping Justin lightly on his hip. “On your back.”
Justin turned and stared up at Brian, whose fingers were now coated in lube and trailing wet, sticky trails along Justin’s thighs before easing in, one at a time.
Justin arched his hips upwards and panted through the small stretch he didn’t really want. “More,” he demanded, already feeling hot and restless, wanting Brian’s cock inside of him.
Brian laughed and slid the third finger in, flexing all three for several seconds before withdrawing them and positioning his cock and then holding there, waiting.
Justin stared up at him and rocked back, feeling the head of Brian’s cock drag along his ass, bare and leaking.
“Now,” he said, and Brian complied, shifting Justin’s legs up and entering him in one fast, smooth thrust.
Justin sucked in a quick breath and moaned, clenching down around Brian’s cock. It felt different, hot and wet and just somehow more of Brian and Justin reached up and braced his hands on Brian’s biceps as Brian started to thrust, the rhythm stuttering before it smoothed out into an approximation of what Justin was used to.
He stared up at Brian, sweat beading on his upper lip and his hair damp against his head, and realized why Brian had asked him to turn over.
“Just like the—fuck—first time,” he said, knowing he was right when Brian ducked his head and looked at the pillow beside Justin.
“But faster,” Brian said through clenched teeth, thrusting in, the rhythm faltering again. “Jerk yourself off.”
Justin didn’t need any encouragement, not when Brian was panting and as undone as Justin had ever seen him, and he tilted his head up towards Brian’s. “Kiss me,” he breathed, jerking faster and coming when Brian leaned down and did so roughly, his teeth scraping along Justin’s lower lip when he came.
.:.:.:
“Oh, fuck,” Justin breathed, his cock all the way in Brian, and he started to shake at the difference in feeling as he started to move.
“I don’t,” he mumbled, in between thrusts, just struggling to get the words out, “think this is going to last long.”
Brian laughed, smug now that he’d gotten used to fucking raw and had most of his famed stamina back. Justin sucked in a quick breath, stopping for a second to center himself. “Vibrations not helping,” he gritted through clenched teeth, moving because he couldn’t seem to stop.
“Don’t worry, Sunshine,” Brian said, his voice thick and lazy after coming with Justin’s tongue and fingers in his ass, “I won’t tell anyone about your hair-trigger reflex.”
Justin gritted his teeth and changed the angle, knowing he had it right when Brian’s whole body tensed and Justin felt his muscles coil as he groaned in unmistakable pleasure.
“Tell them whatever you want,” he panted against Brian’s back, smiling as Brian groaned again, “just as long as you explain my supposed hair-trigger is directly caused by me fucking your ass into the mattress.”
Brian either didn’t reply or Justin didn’t hear him as he closed his eyes and came, gasping for air against Brian’s back.
Brian made them get up and change the sheets afterward and even though Justin grumbled, he was glad to climb into the new, clean set after they’d showered.
He rolled over towards Brian and propped himself up on an elbow. “That’s even better than people say,” he said matter-of-factly, grinning down at Brian before flopping back down on the pillow.
Brian turned on his side and glanced over at Justin. “You still never…” he trailed off, but it was enough for Justin to get the gist.
“No.” Justin was quiet, debating with himself for long moments. But after everything else, he knew he could give Brian this part of himself too. “It just…seemed like it should be you, if it was going to be anyone. Even back then.”
Brian was silent for several seconds. “That’s a long time to wait,” he said quietly.
Justin shrugged and turned on his side to face Brian, setting their left hands side by side and watching the light flicker against the heavy gold bands they’d been wearing for six years. Justin had never once taken it off since Brian had put it there in the darkness of Justin’s first apartment in New York, lying in a tiny bed that creaked and had springs that poked them both in the spine. He hadn’t seen it or Brian’s face, but he hadn’t need to. He’d felt the cool metal sliding on his hand and Brian’s warm mouth on his.
He thought about the house they were slowly putting together now and the way it was turning into a home even though they still spent time in the loft nearly every week. About the legal papers that had been signed before Justin even left for New York the first time, because even if they cancelled the wedding, they were still partners. About the years and the months and the days and the seconds that flew by while they were living their lives as Brian was building Kinnetik with his own sweat and labor and Justin was breaking into the art scene in New York, struggling hand to mouth for four years before he finally had enough money to paint exactly what he wanted, when he wanted.
About how Brian’s bare cock in his ass wasn’t something Justin had truly spent time wanting since he’d been a teenager but was now a part of their reality. About how, now that he had it, he couldn’t imagine giving it up. About how the impetus behind the whole thing was Brian’s rough words, echoing those Justin had first heard more than a decade ago: “I want you safe. I want you around for a long time.”
He glanced up at Brian and smiled slightly, knowing that Brian fucking him raw didn’t prove anything he hadn’t already known and relied on for the past eight years.
“It’s only time,” he reminded Brian, sliding one hand up and into his hair before tugging him into an easy, gentle kiss.