|happier_bunny (happier_bunny) wrote in qaf_scavenger,|
@ 2010-08-07 12:14:00
QAF ANNIVERSARY GALA
Title: Hold Back the Night
Pairing: Brian and Justin
Summary: GF Ep.513
Disclaimer: I own nothing w/QAF
“I’m gonna try with all my might to make the storyline come true.” ©Survivor
“You do know why you have to do this, don’t you? Why this is the only answer?” Brian looked at Justin with worried eyes, his lips pressed together. He didn’t have to see the nibbling at the favored nail or the slight sheen on the blue eyes to know exactly what he was thinking and feeling—that it was over, that they were over. Somehow, without giving too much of himself away, even after five years, he had to let him know that wasn’t the case. Regardless of time or distance, they would never be over.
“I think I've already lost you. I think you're already gone
I think I'm finally scared now. You think I’m weak, but I think you’re wrong.”
“Why I have to do what exactly?” Justin spat. “Why I have to go to New York because everyone, except the person who really matters, me, says that’s where I have to go to fulfill my fucking destiny? That I have to be all that I can be? That...” God! Why the fuck was it so fucking hard to make him understand, to make everyone understand?
“Cut it out, Justin!” Brian interrupted, eyes flashing. “You sound like every fucking cliché known to man!”
“Oh, forgive me, Mr. Kinney, if I’m offending your fucking sensibilities!” Justin gritted, his voice tenuously close to cracking. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation, that all this was happening. He persisted, trying to make Brian hear him and really listen. “But you’re so fucking full of fucking shit!”
He started to pace, his hands clenching and unclenching, each agitated stride propelled by increasing irritation and anxiety. “I can paint anywhere. Don’t you understand that? Don’t you fucking get it? Do you honestly think my talent is magically going to disappear if I stay here? Do you honestly believe that staying is going to suck all the creativity out of me like a bad sci-fi movie? Jesus, Brian! Whether I’m in New York or Pittsburgh or fucking Paris, it doesn’t matter! I’m not going to be any less talented!”
His frustration was steadily reaching epic proportions trying to batter Brian's stone wall of unreasonable determination. Why couldn’t he get his point across? Why couldn’t he make people see that he didn’t want to go, that he didn’t need to go...that he was scared to go?
Brian didn't answer. He gazed at the pale landscape of his lover’s face as if he were seeing him for the first time. This man, who was a child when they first met, who was supposed to be a one-time fuck, inexplicably tamed the beast and now held him hostage.
He may have been Justin’s physical first, but Justin was his emotional first. He was the only one to peek behind the mask and decide that he was worth the effort to strip away the layers of his dysfunctional psyche, the only one to believe in him. He was the only one to touch his heart and not let go.
All this time, he had been trying to convince himself that he didn't want to be tied down to anyone—no repeats, no regrets. Now? Moments of self-doubt plagued him endlessly, giving birth to an insidious unease that maybe he had waited too long. He swallowed painfully, the dryness in his throat prompting a hasty visit to the kitchen for another beer and to give him physical distance from Justin, to regroup and regain control. Otherwise...
Resting his head against the refrigerator, he couldn’t shake the oppressiveness that clung to him like a hot and humid day. After a couple of deep gulps, he leaned his elbows on the counter and pressed a fist to his forehead, a thumb circling between his brows to ward off the inevitable headache. He decided the only way to get through this abnormal situation was to be normal. When he returned, he deliberately laced his reply with familiar snark. “I’m not brain dead, you twat! Of course, you can paint anywhere! Of course, your talent will still be there!”
He then uttered words that gagged him with their insincerity. “Justin, somewhere deep inside your dick, you know I’m right. You fucking know it! Whether or not you want to admit it, you need validation of your talent. You have to give yourself a chance. You have to at least try, for Christ sake!”
“That’s not it! God damn it, why won’t anyone pay attention to what I’m saying? Why won’t anyone believe I’ve got a brain in my goddamned head and that maybe, just maybe, I really do know what the fuck I’m doing? Fuck! You are so fucking obtuse!”
"And you're so fucking obstinate!" Brian thundered in retaliation.
They stared in amazement, breaking the awkward moment by grinning sheepishly at each other. Brian chuckled, lips twitching slightly at the oddity of their exchange. “Well, that certainly was a mature way to handle things!”
“Brian, listen. I...”
“NO! Let me get a word in, please. You already suckered me into playing vocab word of the day.” His resolve to “play it normal” was rapidly crumbling.
He had expected Justin’s eruption, steeling himself for it by mentally rehearsing a myriad of excuses and reasons. What he didn’t expect was his own inability to accept them. An intense bolt of panic ripped through him, fed by a fear that his well-thought out plan to encourage the artiste to go to New York, was not the right choice. Maybe Justin was right. Maybe he could stay here and paint and be a huge fucking success. NO! Cut it out, Kinney! Just fucking stop! He gave himself a mental shake. He could do this. He had to do this.
“Listen to me, all right? And don’t interrupt!” he commanded, his voice hard. “Are you listening?”
Justin’s head shot up like a cannon. “Yeah, ok, you’ve got my undivided attention.”
“This isn’t forever, Justin. It’s only fucking time. It doesn’t matter if it’s a week, a month, or a year!” Brian’s shaky fingers raked through his hair. With a strangled exhale, he uttered a silent plea. Please give me the strength to get through this without my fucking voice breaking.
He willed himself to give the pitch everything, relying on professional skill to project the invincibility and confidence he didn’t possess in order to convince Justin that he did. He needed him to go to New York feeling safe and secure, free to concentrate on his art without worrying about him or them. It was the very least he could do. After everything he’d been given, after everything he’d taken, it was the only gift he could give.
“I know you think I make a big deal out of the age difference between us.” He raised a hand in anticipation of Justin’s certain protestations, intuitively sensing the emotion rocketing through him. “Hold on a minute before you lamely attempt to prove me wrong by invoking your SAT Score Gods.” He smirked at the raised brows and flashing eyes.
“But no matter how much I try to ignore it or pretend it doesn’t exist, you’ll always be twelve years younger. That’s never going to change.” The naked admission cut him to the core, the first time in five years that he honestly acknowledged their chronological gap.
The chiseled face softened with a rare show of emotion and the sardonic voice became uncharacteristically patient as he tried to explain. “Justin...God! You don’t realize! You’re just starting to go where I’ve already been.”
He looked at his partner, the simplicity of the rarely used word sending shivers down his spine, and realized that partner was an amazingly accurate term. He’d spent five years trying to deny the inevitable—as much as he loved fucking Justin, he loved loving him even more. And now that he finally grasped the mystery of us and we, it was over before it had a chance to begin.
“In life there is nothing more unexpected and surprising than the arrivals and departures of pleasure. If we find it in one place today, it is vain to seek it there tomorrow. You can not lay a trap for it.” Alexander Smith
A wistful smile brushed his face. “It’s not as if New York is across the world, you know. We do have planes, trains, and cars in this century.” The curtain on his eyes parted to reveal the pain at life disobeying his wishes, refusing to follow his desired script. “I’m not letting you go to lose you, Sunshine. I’m letting you go to get you back.”
“If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it’s yours forever. If it doesn’t, then it was never meant to be." Bach/Gibran
There was nothing left. He could only hope that his heartfelt confession would make Justin realize what he didn’t want to admit or possibly chose to ignore. Any other words would be overshadowed by the sad emptiness inside, one fostered by a stark realization that everything in life changes and yet you’re supposed to move on as if nothing had. He mused that there was something terribly unfair with that premise.
Justin’s raised a shaking hand in response, his thumb playing across Brian’s damp lower lip. His forefinger traced along the dark brow, beginning a languid journey down the side of his nose to touch the bow of his upper lip, etching the angles in his mind.
He clenched his eyes shut to hold back the tears. If he surrendered and allowed them to overflow, he’d drown in their sorrow. So he squinted through the film, reluctantly giving himself permission to understand, accept, and even grudgingly admit that right now, staying would tear him apart as much as leaving. Brian was already changing, morphing into someone he didn’t know, didn’t like. He couldn’t stay and risk their demise, waiting until resentment and guilt choked the life out of them.
“I swear by my life and my love of it that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine." Ayn Rand
Brian was encouraging him to go in the hope he’d return a confident artist, secure in his talent, and a confident man, secure in his love. He also knew that Brian realized there were no guarantees, no carved in stone declarations that he had to return and yet, he was willing to take that chance...because he loved him.
He snaked his arms around Brian’s neck, kissing him slowly, deeply. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love you. I love you. I’m never going to stop saying it, never going to stop feeling it.” He pressed his body closer, lips roaming over the sculptured face. “I love who you are, what you are.” They fluttered down the throat. “I love your face, your eyes, your hands.” They brushed across the jaw. “I love your body, how you make me feel and...”
Brian lowered his head, pressing his mouth against Justin’s to stop the wordy seduction before it dragged him under its spell, but Justin would not be denied. He raised a hand to cup the stubbled chin and shook his head. “We were always meant to wind up here, together,” he murmured. “We were always supposed to find each other, be with each other. I knew that the first time I saw you.”
“I can feel the hand of fate reaching out to both of us.” ©Survivor
The love overflowed from his heart and he felt as if he would burst from the force, as if he couldn’t hold it all. Once again, his arms encircled Brian, clutching him tightly, and once again, their lips met. “No one but you...always.”
He molded himself against the well-toned body, desperately needing to feel every part of him, needing the memory to survive New York until he returned. He opened his mouth and poured himself into the kiss, filling Brian, willing him to accept his love. The depth and intensity left him breathless and weak, needy and wanting. It unraveled him, the love he felt for this man and the love he felt in return.
A sudden, primal need to touch and lick and suck took hold, whirling him out of control. Deciding they were wearing too much clothing, he furiously scrabbled at the buttons on Brian’s shirt, mumbling incoherently, “I have to...I mean, you have...”
“Hey!” Brian gripped his shoulders gently and pulled back, a lopsided grin on his face. “We’re ok, all right? We’re fine.”
With a dazed look, Justin simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak with the growing lump in his throat. He took a deep breath and blurted out the words in his head, not expecting an answer, “Do you know that I pretty much loved you from the first moment I saw you?”
Brian smoothed the blond hair knowing that Justin expected a smart-ass comment from the Kinney collection of stock answers. He couldn’t think of one. He could only brush his lips lightly across Justin’s and whisper, “I know.”
The blue eyes widened in shock at the honest confession, catching Justin off guard with the onslaught of emotion that the admittance evoked. Unable to withstand the turmoil tossing his insides, he sagged against Brian bonelessly, head spinning and wrapped his arms around his waist.
They inched toward the bed, shedding pieces of clothing along the way, a sense of urgency in their movements. With uninhibited passion, mouths tasted and hands explored, intent on committing every detail to memory, as if each kiss were the first, as if each touch were the last.
The potency of their emotion was an intoxicating cocktail, and Justin felt lightheaded when Brian draped his bronzed body over him, the naked heat scorching his skin like a brand of burning metal. He couldn’t get enough of his scent, his touch, his taste. No one had ever brought him to this wondrous place, claiming and possessing him...no one else ever would.
Brian brushed his tongue across Justin’s face, the salty taste of sweat and arousal fueling his own need, and wondered mindlessly if all of his love starved years created this bottomless pit. He had never been interested in bringing anyone along with him when he fucked. But every time Justin gave himself over, he was overcome by an uncommon urge to make sure they traveled on the journey together and reached the end...together. The feeling was bizarrely exhilarating and peaceful at the same time.
They were insatiable, devouring each other in a carnal feeding frenzy of tongue and mouth, muscle and skin, hands and teeth, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy their hunger. There was only one thing that would.
When Brian's cock slipped inside, the blunt head breaching the first ring, Justin moaned his name reverently, relishing the stretch and burn. He said it with each push forward, said it as his body arched to pull him in deeper, said it as he wrapped his legs around the trim waist to fuse them together.
Buried in the tight channel, savoring its heat, Brian gasped when Justin’s ass suddenly contracted around him, pulsing to keep him and hold him. Stunned by the sensation, his head jerked up, locking their eyes. He was inside there also, he realized in awe, in the deepest well of ocean blue.
“There’s a story in my eyes...” ©Survivor
“Hold on,” he panted, his voice rough with restraint. “Give me a minute.” His fingers unconsciously threaded through the blond hair in an effort to regain control, a feat made more difficult as he struggled against the purring sounds flowing from Justin’s mouth.
Pinned to the bed by the weight of the muscular body, Justin’s breathing became harsh and ragged. His hand cupped the back of Brian’s neck and roughly pulled him closer, crushing their mouths together in a brutal kiss. Pushing his tongue into the wetness, he mapped its surface with greedy swipes, groaning at the taste of beer and cigarettes.
When his lungs screamed in protest at the lack of oxygen, he pulled back, gasping for air. Taking deep breaths, he was overwhelmed by everything Brian, inhaling his aftershave, his cologne, his unique musky smell. The scented aphrodisiac overloaded his senses and shut down his brain, reducing him to a tautly stretched rubber band of need, incapable of rational thought.
Brian was certain he heard a primal growl rise up from Justin, but he didn’t have time to wonder, nor did he care. He was too distracted by the obscene sucking of his tongue as if it held the mysteries of the universe.
The persuasive mouth worked its magic with a hypnotic in out, in out, sending him into an overdrive of lust. His body started to move in perfect harmony with Justin’s mouth, naked flesh gliding slickly against naked flesh, each powerful thrust igniting another burst of arousal.
Justin was on fire, responding to Brian like a moth to a flame, twining his fingers through the damp brown hair, raking his nails across the sweaty shoulders, running his hands firmly along the lithe body, pulling them closer.
“Brian...Oh God! Brian, I...” No matter how many times they did this, no matter how many ways or places, it never failed to excite him, never failed to leave him aching for more. It was always unpredictable, always new. Heightened over the years by an enhanced intimacy of familiarity, each man intuitively sensed what the other craved, knowing what the other needed before he asked. He had to believe that there would always be more of this, because this was everything...this was all.
When Brian leaned in to capture the swollen mouth, the shift of position put him in total control of this last ride, keeping Justin off guard, never knowing when a particular thrust would hit his prostate, sending another explosion of fire through his body. His raspy voice grated across Justin’s skin like sandpaper. “Feel, Justin! Just fucking feel!”
Justin’s lids fluttered open, and he saw all the love he felt reflected in the gilded rings of the hazel eyes gazing down at him. Too much, he thought. It’s all too much.
“Look into my eyes, you will see what you mean to me.
Search your heart, search your soul. When you find me there, you’ll search no more.”
He choked back his cries as Brian’s torturous rhythm sped up, powerful and masculine, driving in deep, deeper before withdrawing almost all the way, intent on pushing them to the limit, sending them soaring. And every time they were about to jump off the cliff, he’d cruelly pull them back and slow the pace before repeating the pattern again and again...accelerating and braking, speeding up and slowing down...propelling them to the very precipice of forever.
Their breathy grunts and moans filled the air with sex and love, building to a feverish crescendo until Brian decided it was time and positioned their sweat covered bodies precariously on the edge.
“I can’t hold back. I’m on the edge. Your voice explodes inside my head.” ©Survivor
Sometimes an entire universe can exist in a single moment, when expression and emotion coalesce with meaning and intent, freezing the frame in now and reducing the before and after to nothingness.
They came together, each sending the other into a freefall of ecstasy and love—one man, by a single tear falling unbidden on his ivory face and the other, by a rare, strangled admittance, “In case I forget to say it again, I love you.”
As their breathing slowed, sated gasps and sighs reverberated throughout the loft mere shadows of their former selves.
“Remember tonight, Sunshine,” Brian murmured. “Remember this and I’ll always be with you.”
Stay until the morning comes, my handsome prince.
Til the moonlight fades and the fire shines.
Stay with me to see anew
A brand new day for me and you.