On a small TV, the Explosion logo, the announcer…“And now, Seconds From Disaster,” as Horvath sat at his desk and bit into a Burger Queen croissandwich.

Brian in work casual suddenly barged through the doorway.  “Carl.  I got your message.  So when can I pick it up?”

Horvath sipped coffee to rush the swallow, punched the Stop on the videotape.

Brian watched the screen go blue.  “You watch Disasters for breakfast?”

Horvath napkined his mouth.  “Always interested in how little things add up.  And I’m not on the clock yet but for you I’ll make an exception.  Donut?” he lifted a bag.

“Just my car, thank you.”

Horvath slowly set the bag down, heaved a breath.  “It isn’t gonna be that simple.  It’s in police impound.”

“So sign it out.  You know who I am.”

“In Los Angeles.”

Fucking WHAT?  “So how long will it take to ship it here?”

“You have to go get it.  They’ll only release it to the owner.”

Brian leaned on the desk, jaw tense against staying calm.  “You mean, I have to buy a plane ticket, pick it up myself and drive it BACK?”

Horvath fished a paper from his desk clutter, held it out.  “Afraid so.  Here’s your instructions.  Bring your title and registration.  And I wouldn’t wait too long.  The LA impound fees are brutal and if you read the fine print, after thirty days unclaimed vehicles go up for auction.”

“But I’m the fucking VICTIM!”  Brian snatched the form, paced to the door and back.

“Like all the other folks with stolen cars.  That’s the sad reality.  Every police department has its policies and budget constraints, and LAPD is no different.  You CAN run it through insurance or go after the thief, but you’ll have to decide if litigation is worth it.”

“Did they catch the mutherfucker?” Brian stared direct.

Carl flared the notes on his desk, pulled a sheet of scribbles.  “Not yet.  The seller stated that he paid cash to the suspect…some young kid running from his drunken dad.  Needed money to try making it in Hollywood.  We get hundreds like this.”  Horvath set the notes under Brian’s gaze.  “Still thinking of pressing charges?”

Brian rolled his lips in, shook his head no for too many reasons.  “Guess I buy the fucking plane ticket.”  Boxed-in and riled, Brian huffed to the door, caught himself and turned with a somber, “Thanks for trying.”

“If it’s any consolation, most stolen cars are used to commit more serious crimes.  Then the owner REALLY gets raked over.  Consider yourself lucky.”

Brian blinked his understanding but not his approval.  Stormed out with Hail To Our Fucking Legal System burning through his mind.

At Kinnetik, Brian strode in still wearing a scowl. 

Cynthia greeted him with coffee, two mags and a newspaper.  “Your coffee…New Yorker…Ad Week and Wall Street Journal.  Pea under your mattress last night?”

“I never get that drunk,” Brian flatly shot, grabbed the collection.  “Get Theodore and join me for a pow-wow.”  And he bee-lined for his office.

Sharp with no smile?  “This can’t be good,” she whispered then hustled to rouse Ted.

Brian set the coffee on his desk, dropped the periodicals beside it, whipped a credit card from his wallet, swung into his chair and fired up his computer.

Ted rushed in with Cynthia close.  “What happened?”

Brian focused on booking his flight.  “Horvath found my car in LA.  Cynthia, see if you can reschedule this week’s meetings for next week.  And Ted…I want those leads ready by three.  Any takers for overtime?” He aimed a dare glare that coerced their nods.  “Good.  We’ll rough out the main plan then you’ll have about three days to fine-tune so I can do the final edit when I get back this weekend.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’ll have much time to see Justin,” Ted commented.

Brian spun full around.  “This isn’t a social visit.”

“Of course not,” Ted pseudo-firmed, slid eyes at Cynthia.

Brian raised a brow.  “If you’re through making assumptions, I suggest you get moving.”

“Yes, SIR,” Cynthia clipped, turned with Ted at her shoulder.  Away from Brian’s office, she leaned toward Ted and grinned, “That’s the most active I’ve seen him in days, and I’ll bet it has nothing to do with his car.”

At his computer, Brian paused, drummed his fingers on the edge of the keyboard.  Maybe there’s a better way to handle this.  I’ll decide when I get there.

Brian hit enter, watched the screen confirm his 8:45 AM nonstop.

After work and at Marco’s…

Justin set his duffle on the couch and glanced at Marco dressed hot and combing his hair in the bathroom mirror.  “Thanks for giving me a lift to the airport.”

“Sorry it has to be four hours early,” Marco answered, reached into his medicine cabinet.

“That’s why I brought the perspective book.”  Justin patted his bag, pulled his cell phone from a cargo pocket.  “The red-eye was the cheapest deal on short notice.”

Marco dry-downed a pill and shut his cabinet.  “You can hang out on the upper floor of the Tom Bradley wing.  It’s the best free spot there.”  He stepped out and watched Justin dial.  “Warning the family?”

“It IS a business trip,” Justin reminded.   Just in case you take that back to the office.  Besides, I don’t need Brian’s lecture till I’m there and he can’t do shit about it.  Yet, I should let him know.   What better way than…

“Red Cape Comics,” Michael answered the phone while scribbling on a stack of unkempt papers.  “Justin!  I was gonna call you!”  He grabbed the papers and viewed them.  “I came up with the greatest…what?  When?  About eight-thirty tomorrow morning?” he smiled wide.  “That’s perfect!  We can go over the story and work out the panels…this is too good,” Michael leaned back relieved.  “I was worried you might be too busy.”

Later at Kinnetik, the reception area was deserted and dark except for Cynthia’s lit desk lamp and pale light from Brian’s office.

Jacket on, art folio under his arm, a passing Worker palmed fatigue from a temple, saw Cynthia’s phone light flicker with soft ringing.  He glanced toward voices in Brian’s office, hesitated and finally snatched the receiver.  “Kinnetik.  Who?  Hold on.”  He hit the Hold button, yelled, “Brian?  You got a call from Michael.”

Brian’s shout filtered back, “Tell him I’ll call him tomorrow before I leave for LA.”

Worker finished the call, “He’s pretty tied up on a campaign right now.  Says he’ll call you back tomorrow.  I will.  You’re welcome.”  Worker hung up, snatched a pen and memo pad, wrote:  Brian.  Important.  Call Michael.  Good deed done, he set the pad on Cynthia’s keyboard and headed home.

Next morning at Pittsburgh Airport…

Justin filed off his flight with a crowd of other rumpled fly-by-nights.  He yawned, checked the terminal with a bleary which-way-now scan and glimpsed the back of a tall man rolling a carry-on further down.  Fuck, that looks like Brian.  He quickly palmed his eyes and blinked to clear his vision.  But the man disappeared into a gate area.

I’m going punchy, Justin decided.  Downtown Limo.  Yeah.  THAT way.

On an eerie feel, Brian stepped from the gate area and glanced up the terminal.  Saw a gang of trudging bodies behind a flash of blond that could’ve been anybody.  Fuck.  All this hassle has me seeing things.  Brian pulled his cell phone, keyed a number and snaked past boarding passengers to the large window overlooking his flight.

At Red Cape….

Michael had just flipped his CLOSED sign to OPEN when his cell rang.  He answered, “Hello?” and lit, “Brian!  You’ll never guess -” but stopped when he saw Ben, looking seriously perturbed, jogging to the door.  “Hold on a minute.”  Phone at his thigh, Michael yanked the door open.  “What’re you doing here?  I thought you had an early -”

“Can you lock it up for awhile?  We have to go down to the school.  Hunter just threatened another student.”

“Oh for fuck’s…” Michael snapped the phone to his ear, used his free hand to flip the door sign.  “Brian, I’ll call you back in a few -”

“I haven’t GOT a few minutes,” Brian grated.  “Mikey?”  He stared at the dead phone then at a Liberty Air Agent white-knuckling the jet bridge door and smiling daggers at him in the empty gate area.

At the Loft…

Justin dragged into the living room, took a moment to breath in the surroundings before shuffling up the bedroom stairs.  He dropped his bag, ran a hand over the unmade bed, glanced at the clock and felt a prickly lightness.  A dual travel clock.  Set for two time zones.

Justin sat on the bed, took the clock and ran a soft touch over its faces.  Then he set it back in place, kicked off his shoes and stretched long on Brian’s spot.  Can’t wait to see you.  After you’re done acting pissed.  Just need a few winks.  Justin shut his eyes and drifted off.

At Novotny-Bruckers, Michael, Ben and Hunter squared off in triangle formation.

Ben railed, “Because he called you a FAG?”

“It’s HOW he said it,” Hunter defied.

“But you know it’s not true.”

“Yeah, I know.  You think I did it for ME?”  Hunter spun around and thudded into his room.

Michael and Ben exchanged troubled looks; Ben moved close to Michael and spoke low.

“Sounds like he was defending US.”

“So how do we explain what he did was wrong…without trashing his noble intent?”

“I guess, just tell him it was a wrong action, but.”  Seeing Michael’s confusion, Ben clarified, “It’s always the part after the ‘but’ that has the greatest impact.  And we’re not talking about your drinking buddy.”

“Can’t be easy for him…” Michael resigned, “…meshing gay respect with straight expectations.  So what comes after the ‘but’?”

Ben tipped a pensive nod to nowhere.  “But…we love you and believe that it’s young people like you who will eventually bring about the best in tolerance and understanding.”

They both snapped looks toward Hunter, slouching unnoticed against his doorframe.

“Dude, you make shit sound too much like a college lecture, BUT -” he smiled, “I get it.  Don’t give in to the asshole who says my sister wears army boots.”

“Uh…that’s exactly what I meant to say,” Ben warmly returned.

“Now is there anything good to eat around here?” Hunter gave a cocky head-toss and strolled to the kitchen.

Michael commented low, “The recuperative powers of a teenager.”  Then his pocket rang.  “Oh shit!  I was supposed to call Brian back.”

At Red Cape Comics, Justin pressed his phone to his ear, stared at the CLOSED sign and eyed a couple anxious teens peering through the windows.  “Michael?  Is the store closed today?”

Soon after, Michael sprinted across the street.  “Justin!  Sorry…” he juggled keys and unlocked the door, “Hope you didn’t have to wait too long,” led Justin inside and flipped the sign.  “Quick.  Tell me everything happening with the movie.”

“Nothing much yet.  It’s still in some kind of development,” Justin followed.

Behind the counter, Michael dug his papers from a low shelf and plopped them on top.  “At least it’s still a go, which is almost NOT where this issue is.   Especially with the deadline on us.”

“Deadline?”

Michael froze action.  “Yeah.  I have to submit the proofs Monday.  You didn’t forget, did you?”

“Fuck,” Justin winced, recovered strong, checked his wristwatch.  “I can catch Brian later.  Show me what you’ve got.”

In bright LA sun, a star-stalking Tourist Couple paused to admire Brian in designer shades leaning against his Vette and about to make a cell phone call.

“E-e-excuse me,” Tourist Hubby stammered,  “Haven’t I seen you in King Lear?”

“Possibly,” Brian drolled, “I don’t always ask for names.”  And he broke talk by retreating to the front of his car and sitting on the hood, leaving his befuddled fans moving on.  “Hey,” Brian smiled into the phone, “Any plans for lunch?  I just happen to be in LA.”

At Red Cape, Justin bolted up from the counter.  “You’re in LA?”

Michael jumped, “BRIAN’S IN LA?”

Brian’s brows flattened.  “What the fuck is MIKEY doing here?”

“He WORKS here,” Justin groaned.  “I’m in Pittsburgh.”

Michael snatched Justin’s phone.  “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were going to LA?”

Justin glared at Michael, grabbed his phone.  “Brian?  What’re you doing THERE?”

Fingers tapping the car hood, Brian smiled a grim, “Reclaiming my stolen car. How long will you be in town?”  I’d smack you for not saying anything, but then I’d have to smack myself harder.

“I hafta fly back tomorrow night,” Justin sank.  “What about YOU?”

“It’s a three-day road trip.  So make sure you lock the Loft door and set the alarm before you leave.  Later.”  And Brian slapped his phone shut, rolled his lips in.  Think fast.

At Red Cape, Justin pocketed his phone, glared at Michael.  “Of all the shit you tell him, you didn’t tell him I was coming?”

“I didn’t get a chance!  Why didn’t YOU?”

“Because he would’ve talked me out of it when the truth is, I have a job here, too.”

“Yeah, right.  Nothing to do with Brian?”

“Well…that, too.  But don’t tell him.”

Michael erupted, “Did it ever occur to you that you know I can’t keep a secret and you keep telling me anyway?  There’s probably nothing I told him that you didn’t want him to know.  Except this once,” he crammed papers together.

Justin exhaled a long breath, pulled the papers out of Michael’s hands.  “Okay.  So we need these vicious mechanical dogs, right?”  When Michael didn’t answer, “Yeah, I wanted to see Brian.  But we have a deadline to meet.”

Michael rolled up apologetic eyes.  “I really didn’t get a chance.”

“Not your problem,” Justin firmed.  “Can we get by with ONE?  Or does it hafta be a whole pack?”  What happened, happened.  And I DID forget the deadline. 

That night in the Loft bathroom, Justin in khakis and button shirt finished blow-drying his hair.  Then he bounded barefoot into the dark living room, flicked on a lamp and reached for a sketchpad on the coffee table when the cell beside it rang.  He snatched it up with, “Hello?” and a big smile.  “No, I’m still in Pittsburgh.  Yes, I’m at the Loft and no, I’m not going anywhere.  So are you still on the road?”

The Loft door opened suddenly and Brian walked in, phone in hand.  “No, I just made it to my destination.”  He parked his bag, closed the phone away, soft smile at the replay of Justin’s Prom look.  “But it was one bitching long flight.”

“What about the car?”

“You know how I hate long drives.  It’s on its way with a driver who works for the Rental Company that appreciates my business.” Brian sidled to the bar, opened the cabinet to curb looking anxious or eager as he poured two Beams.  “So why the sudden trip back?”

“Comic deadline.  It’s in my contract,” Justin shrugged, playing just as cool.  “What did you think of LA?”

“Nice town.  Did you do anything interesting besides just work?”  Despite casual tone, he looked up too quickly and fucked his own charade.

Catching it, Justin turned on his charm smile, slowly unbuttoned and slid his shirt off. “I had Con introduce me to his favorite waxologist.”

Brian spontaneously gasped a chuckle at the counter top before covering the action with drink pouring.  THAT guy again…and a WAX job?

Unfazed, Justin hooked his shirt over a bare shoulder, set one hand on his hip and posed confident.  “So what do you think?”

You mean, do I like fucking ten-year-olds?  Brian downed a shot.  Twice accused of being a pedophile sparked a mild gut-clench at the thought of Justin beyond bare.  He turned slowly, leaned against the bar and watched Justin pivot.  Smooth armpits.  Not bad, but – “How far did you go?”

That fueled Justin to tease his pants zipper down and enjoy watching Brian’s throat ripple a swallow.

Brian wasn’t sure what he dreaded most – a taboo adolescent look, or proof that Justin favored West Coast influence.  Didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he felt it escape long and quiet.  Apprehension soon gave way to more comfortable lust and desire.  His favorite Golden Triangle was groomed but still intact.

“I didn’t go to Brazil.  I know what you like,” Justin slid his tongue through his grinning lips.  “I wish you could’ve seen your face.”

Fucking little … “When’s the last time you had a good spanking?” He stalked toward Justin.

“Haven’t had a bad one yet,” Justin twinkled, stood his ground.

“Tonight may be your lucky night.”

“Well I didn’t fly all the way out here to be a loser,” Justin purred, reached up and slowly undid the buttons on Brian’s shirt as they drew closer.

Brian slid a hand down Justin’s back and considered a revenge whack but got sidetracked by cock-rousing silky feel.  “I take it you also sampled the Crack and Sac?”

“A little variety never hurts,” Justin said throaty low then paused.  “Well…it hurt a little, but I think you might be worth it.”

“Might?”  Shirt hanging off his elbows, pants open and drifting down his hips, Brian grabbed Justin’s arm and pulled him to a floor cushion, giving Justin barely enough time to step from the pants bunched at his ankles.

Justin sank to a hip, stretched on a propped elbow and watched how Brian could make a clumsy act like dropping trousers look graceful.  And a tad nasty with a hand sliding up a thigh, through his dark pubes and giving his dick a couple strokes.  Justin matched the action - yeah, I’m in sync and ready.

Brian snatched two large throw pillows and a folded pillowcase, stacked the pillows on the cushion, flicked the case over them.  “I’ll make sure you got your money’s worth.”

“I thought about asking, but didn’t want to impose.”  Justin bridged over the pillows and sizzled with the thought of being ass-high thoroughly inspected.

Waiting for Justin to get comfortable, Brian made a short run to his desk drawer for a couple condoms and lube, turned back and stopped.  A spellbinding sensuality drew him into admiring the composition.  How light played over the angle of Justin’s body on a white cloud cushion.  Desire so strong in Justin’s eyes.  Like at their chance meeting in Babylon’s back room after a long separation, when they couldn’t NOT look at each other but never finished the connection.  Sometimes it felt like, in every touch since their reunion, a small part would always be devoted to atoning for that night he had left Justin behind. 

I want to, have to kiss you.

Brian couldn’t remember himself moving as much as Justin’s face – cheek on bent arms on a white cloud – looming toward him.  Rising.  Then the upside-down feeling as Brian tipped his head, cloud brushing his hair before he breathed in Justin’s breath.  Kissed his lips and chin. Touched and wrangled tongues until it wasn’t enough and Brian trailed his lips along Justin’s neck.  Meandered over shoulder blades and dips of his back.  Then Brian straddled him backward, pressed bent legs against Justin’s sides, ran hands up Justin’s hips and stopped there.

Audible sighs, cheek cradled on one arm, Justin raised his free hand to settle on Brian’s ankle.  Ride the firm calf, wind over a knee and journey up the front of Brian’s thigh, feel hard muscle working.  Brian’s hair wasn’t dense or stiff and Justin let his hand run up and down to marvel at how softly it resisted and gave.  He could feel Brian’s heat and ass and balls pressed to his back, but nothing happening.  “Well?”

“Give me a little more time.  It’s exciting foreplay and great payback for earlier,” Brian answered and got his thigh slapped.  Horny brat.  Fuck.  So am I.

Brian started with his fingertips.  Just light lines and circles covering cream silk.  He felt Justin’s breath hitch when he curled his fingers into Justin’s crack and went for deeper exploration.  Opened the valley and studied its barren walls, dusky pink hole and smooth slope to hairless balls.  No hair ANYWHERE down there, and it looked luscious.  Brian bent his head low and tasted the perimeter.  Heard Justin’s heavy sigh, saw his pelvis tip higher and dove low.  Tongued Justin’s soft balls before sucking each one in, rolling them with his lips and tongue and brushing the rigid veins beneath his cock.

Justin spiraled upward with the assault.  Didn’t try to stop his peak and let his climax shudder free with two sharp cries as he arched against Brian’s ass.  Then fell forward in the delirium of utter peace.  And a shiver of extended pleasure when he felt Brian’s tongue tip drift up and circle his hole.  “Oh god.”

Brian explored deeper yet, fingers leaving mauve imprints in glutes spread longer than usual.  He tongue-speared the hole again and again, knowing Justin’s resting cock would channel focus elsewhere.  But pleasure-giving was fast overtaken by urgent needs of his own.  Brian swung off Justin, momentum disrupted by cramping in his legs that made him slow down, unfold and lie perpendicular to Justin, head pillowed in the small of Justin’s back.  He reached up and patted the raised ass.  “Your waxologist gets an A double plus.”  Short break over, he sat up to position for action.

Justin saw Brian’s raging hard, watched him move the lube further down the cushion, considered Brian’s vulnerable state and mustered conviction.  “I want to go raw.”

Brian’s chest collapsed out a breath and he dropped back to sitting and shaking his head.  Not now.  Don’t fucking pull this now.

Justin twisted onto his back so that the pillows filled the arch of his knees.  Not giving up on this.  “I want to do it.”

“Well we’re not GOING to,” Brian grumbled, eyes stern.

“Why not?  Because it’s dangerous?  What if I told you I wanted to climb Everest, or take up motorcycle racing?  Is it any more dangerous than going raw with YOU?  You always brag how careful you are.”

“It’s still too dangerous.”

“Then you’re NOT careful?”

“Don’t fucking twist it.”

“Then you think I’M not?”

Brian bent one leg under, eyes firm, jaw set.  I won’t even FUCKING answer that.

Justin stayed calmly serious.  “I could’ve died a couple years ago.  I could walk out this door and get hit by a car today.  I don’t want to always wish and wonder.  I’ve done just about everything I wanted but one, and I want that experience.  I want to know how it feels.”

“It doesn’t feel much different than -” Brian abruptly stopped when he saw Justin’s eyes snap hard onto him.  Knew that now JUSTIN knew and looked off.  “Things were different then.”

“Don’t preach to me,” Justin said flat and unblinking.  “It’s gonna happen because I want it to.  It almost happened in LA -” Justin saw Brian’s eyes flame and quickly finished, “- but I didn’t LET it because I was hoping that when it does, it’ll be with someone I love and trust.  That it would be with YOU.”

You’re not bluffing or conning me – that fucking Con – into this.  Brian grabbed the small packet, held it out to Justin.  This is my answer.

Justin eyed the packet then Brian.  He flipped onto his stomach and scooted until his hips were high on the pillows again, laid his head on folded arms and looked off to the side.  Put it on yourself.

“If you don’t want to do this, don’t,” Brian seethed, threw down the packet and started to rise.

Shit.  “Wait.”  Justin reached back and grabbed Brian’s wrist.  “We’re not finished yet.”  He stared with intense sincerity, relaxed his grip to a caress then slowly retrieved the packet.  “You won’t change how I feel.  I won’t expect you to change, either.”  With an awkward twist to use both hands, he tore open the packet and removed the rubber.  “You’ll have to get closer.”

Brian hesitated, walked on knees into Justin’s reach.  He’d lost some wood, but it twitched to sturdy attention when Justin worked some magic down its length.  He stared at Justin’s head until their eyes met.  Don’t you remember when I told you I wanted you safe?  And that I wanted you around for a long time?  Brian bent low and kissed Justin.  Touched his face.  It’s too risky.  For more than one reason.

Brian moved behind Justin and settled between his thighs.  Almost everybody I know has gone raw at one time or another – he stroked Justin’s ass, up his inner thighs to bring him back – Am I right to turn you down and drive you somewhere else?  Deny what you crave when I’ve been there myself and satisfied it? – he squeezed lube onto his dick, slicked the length – Do you think I never wanted you that way?  That it didn’t rip and burn to know I could have had it anytime, yet resisted giving in? – he slipped a finger up Justin’s crack, found his target and prepped with tender touch – Will anybody else care about you any more than I will!

Chest heaving, mind on fire, Brian yanked the bottom pillow out and flung it aside.

Justin gasped from the unexpected drop.  Felt the second pillow jerk and a strong pull on his hip, rolling him onto his back as the pillow pulled away so he lay barely at the edge of the cushion and staring up at Brian, towering on his knees, breathing hard with eyes piercing.  Rattled and dazed, Justin watched those eyes soften.

Brian gripped his condom, yanked it off with a loud snap, pitched it away and flared his arms to display his total nakedness.  “If we do this…will it be enough?”

Mouth open, shock swaying to comprehension, Justin lit with the full impact of the moment.  Throat tight, all he could do was nod, hold out his arms and celebrate.  Not because he’d won, but because Brian would do this.  Against his principals, against his code – he would do this for me.

Leaning down into Justin’s embrace, Brian was torn by the anxiety of opening this door and the fever of long-suppressed desire.  It made his heart pound with a fury, heightened every touch and kiss so that when he aimed his cock and it touched skin to skin, all conscious thought of right and wrong shut down.  And all that remained was naked, primal feeling.

Legs high on Brian’s shoulders, Justin crossed his ankles.  Dug his fingers into Brian’s arms and moaned when Brian drove in slow and silent – the most intimate contact possible.  I wanted this for so long.  And now I have it with Brian.  Always the first, always with him…how did I even think it would happen any other way.

Song: “Straight Ahead (Original)” by Tube & Berger

[1]-[2]-[3]-[4]-[5]-[6]-[7]-[8]-[9]-[10]