The alarm blared.  Brian flung an arm out to slap it off and almost knocked the clock off his stand.  After a couple clearing blinks, he rolled back to flip the arm over Justin.  It landed on a vacant pile of rumpled covers.  What the?

In a tee shirt, gray briefs and concentrating, Justin looked up from his computer screen to Brian cockhard naked in the bedroom doorway.

“Changing the morning routine?” Brian yawned.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“And I can’t piss with a hard-on,” Brian leaned his head on the doorframe, gave that big-eyed get-the-hint? smile.  Saw Justin hesitate, did a fine-by-ME nod and turned away. Wouldn’t be the first or last self-serve morning.  No big deal.  Justin DID look beat. 

Justin quickly rose, skipped up the steps and grabbed Brian’s hand.  “I just had something else on my mind,” he confided, lightly pushed Brian to a seat on the side of the bed.

“Like what?” Brian maneuvered onto his back center mattress.

Justin sat on a bent knee alongside Brian’s ribs, outer leg dangling, hand running small circles on his kneecap.  “I saw my Dad yesterday.  He says he’ll pay my PIFA tuition if I want to go back.”  Justin watched Brian’s eyes.  Shit.  Nothing.  All he had to go on was Brian’s silence and an old just-a-piece-of-paper replay.  “I’m thinking of doing it.”

“When I get an Art Director, I’ll have to layoff the clerk anyway,” Brian answered.  Why discount opportunity and logic.  “Would you even BE with Lightwave if you had this choice before?”  Brian ran his hand up Justin’s outer leg to his hip. 

Honestly?  Justin shook his head.  “No.”  Not back then.

“If it’s a sure thing, and you want it, then DO it.”

Justin looked aside.  Easy until now.  “He wants to be sure that if he puts up the money, I’m free of any other commitments.”

Brian slipped a telltale swallow that Justin’s averted eyes missed.  “Our contract is just a financial arrangement,” he casually recovered.  “Equal investment in…the business.  At this point, there’s more to lose than gain, so don’t let it stop you.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Justin risked, knowing Brian hated having his statements questioned like he didn’t mean what he’d said the FIRST time.  I’ll give up this chance, but not for something that doesn’t mean enough to you to be worth it for me.

“Either of us can void it any time,” Brian raised a calm brow.  To hide a confusing jab of feeling – over WHAT?  He had it all planned out, in case this happened.  Business deal.  Nothing more.  Nothing the fuck more.

Justin nodded, leaned down and kissed Brian’s lips.  One last time… “Would ending the money part change anything else?”  

After a thoughtful pause, Brian whispered into Justin’s mouth, “We’re still partners.”

Satisfied with that confirmation, Justin lifted away, blinked slowly over his smile then twisted his body around and eased toward Brian’s waiting cock at half-mast but on the rise again.  His back to Brian, Justin stretched his right arm over Brian’s hips and supported on a bent elbow to hold his chest off Brian’s stomach, cupped that hand on Brian’s ass as Brian’s right knee rose.  Wouldn’t give Brian much of a view, but this job would be all about feeling.

Brian felt Justin’s left hand cradle his balls.  Flow across his groin.  And warm, moist tight lips.  Tongue caressing and teasing his cockhead.  GodDAMN he was good.   Through slit eyes, Brian watched the movements of Justin’s head…blond locks in shifting light patterns.  Let his hand skim the lean line of Justin’s back to the deep waist dip. Slipped under and pushed up the tee shirt to release the heat and starting sweat.  Then rode down the valley again…taking the briefs’ waistband up and over Justin’s ass, mind sizzling at the slow unveiling.

Justin pushed his lips down hard.  Pulled up slow.  Felt the pulse and twitch leave his throat.  Added a hand to counter-pulse like a heartbeat closing in then sliding down when his lips took over again.  Not a piece of wood.  A living part of Brian to ravish with intense affection.  Justin felt Brian’s fingertip find his hole.  Rest there.  Waiting.  Justin arched his hips and pressed back.  Yes.  Easy but dry, Brian’s finger bit its way inside like a small rasp that caused a muffled groan around Brian’s cock.

Brian stopped.  Should I go on?…and felt the silken walls gripping his finger relax, heard an almost laughing moan.  Yes.  So he balanced discomfort with pleasure.  Tempo rising to the tempo on his cock, until he touched Justin’s trigger with fire, and knew from the moans…movements…growing flush…that they were synched in every nerve and vein.

High on overload, Brian arched his back, rammed his bent leg into the mattress and nearly gagged Justin from the thrust and jets of cum.

Justin swallowed, launched himself across Brian’s body.  Pulled his own cock hard and shouted as cum spurted up Brian’s thigh, down to his groin.  Then he collapsed like a wet rag draped over Brian’s lap.  And in the next seconds, felt a warm hand pat his ass. 

“Hey,” Brian patted again, grimaced from Justin’s weight.  “I really have to piss.”

Justin groaned and moved on shaky muscles.  “Then you should’ve let ME cum first.”

I try, Brian’s eyes followed Justin pulling on his briefs and stretching long beside him.

He lightly kissed Justin’s cheek. “I have to see a client in Wheeling, so I’ll be out most of the day.  And I need three copies of that Midnight Auto disc when I get back,” he rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom.

“Yessss, Mr. Kinney,” Justin sighed and held his smile until Brian was out of view.  Then he stared with heavy eyes at a point beyond the ceiling.  His decision was made.  Brian was okay with it.  Why did he still feel so weighed down.

In the bathroom, Brian’s physical drain didn’t relieve the mental drain.  The Rules…the Contract…he should have been overjoyed at one more affirmation of the folly of convention.  But under the layers of denial was a tiny persistent piece of him that relished its security and fought to hold on…by hiding in subconscious thought where logic couldn’t find it and reason it away.

By Lunchtime, the Diner was loud and busy.  Standing at the door, Linz in fetching work dress craned a look down the aisle and smiled at a far table with Emmett and Michael together, Justin alone facing her but too involved with drawing to notice her approach.

At their table, Justin slid his napkin-sketch around a water glass to Michael, watched Michael’s smiley nod.

Linz stopped with a pert “Hi,” and got a round of greetings.

Justin slid over. “Here, Linz.”

“It’s nice to see you SITTING at it instead of WAITING on it for a change,” Linz sat.  “Where’s Brian?”

“Out on a sales call.”

Michael added, “Mom just took our orders.  Want me to flag her back?” he stretched up, started to wave to Debbie at the pickup station, saw Linz shake her head.

“Actually, I’m here to see YOU,” she smiled at Emmett, “And I knew I’d find you here for lunch.  I need help with a very special party…if you have the time.”

“A party!” Em shined his gap-tooth widest.  “Why EVER would you think I’d say no?”

“A baby shower.”

Emmett’s smile slipped, revived, “I could do that.”

“Em,” Justin leaned back chuckling, “I know more about babies than YOU do,” got Emmett’s droll stare.

“Uh…I used to BE one?  And you practically still ARE,” he innocently joked, missed the frost on Justin’s smile as Debbie blew in with three burger platters.

“What’s this yelling about a party?” Debbie slapped plates in place, eyed Linz with a bright,  “Hi, Honey.  Get you anything?”

“No thanks.  I came to talk to Em about putting together a baby shower for Mel.  She’s been feeling a little down, and -”

Michael jumped, “She isn’t sick again, is she?”

Emmett pressed a calming hand on Michael’s arm.  “Sweetie?  It’s the blahs.  From hormone changes?”

Debbie challenged, “What the fuck do GAY men know about women’s hormones?”

Kiki at the next table called, “Uh…Deb?” raised a hand in a flutter-finger defense wave.

Debbie conceded with a nod, turned back to a gang of smirks.  “Are you all gonna EAT or complain about how cold it is?” then softer to Linz, “So when IS this shower?”

“I was thinking next Saturday, but I don’t want her to know, or she’ll find some excuse not to come. I was hoping I could set it up somewhere other than our home.  A small restaurant, or meeting room…somewhere that won’t cost a lot.”

“Have it at OUR place…I mean…Mom’s.  Mom?” Michael spoke through a half-mouthful.

“I’d love to,” Debbie’s voice resigned, “But I’ve got decorators coming out to re-do your room for Hunter.  And the Adoption Exchange should be paying an assessment visit any day now.”

“Have it at the Loft,” Justin straightened to a bevy of shocked eyes.  “Why not?  It’s the LAST place she’d guess -”

Michael sneaked, “Good point.”

“- there’s lots of room.  Everyone knows where it is -”

“Literally,” Emmett grinned, got shut down by Justin’s glare.

Linz winced, “I don’t know,” shook her head.  “I don’t think Brian would-”

“It’s MY place, too,” Justin stated low.

Michael and Emmett traded looks; Debbie froze eyes on Justin.

Knowing what the others didn’t, Linz studied the firm expression – not of a trick or live-in boytoy.  “I think that would be a good idea,” with a tiny added, “I usually check with Mel first for things like that…unless it’s for HER.”

Justin took the hint with a nod, spotted his watch. “I have to get back.”

“So do I,” Linz quickly moved out and aside for Justin.

Debbie sensed a problem.  “Sunshine.  You didn’t touch a thing,” she glanced at his full plate.

Justin snatched his plate, assured Debbie, “I’ll wrap it up,” low to Linz, “Call you later,” as he strode to the kitchen door.  I’m Brian’s partner, not the kid who tags after him.

Kiki shouted from the register, “Deb?  This thing is stuck again,” followed by a general annoyed, “All you queens in here and nobody has any lube?”

“Excuse me,” Debbie smiled nicely to the two men, and to Linz, “Make sure you let me know if there’s anything I can do,” as the two women walked away.

Michael picked up a fry, stopped Justin returning from the kitchen.  “Justin.  If you want me to talk to Brian -”

“What FOR?” Justin gave his wide-eyed drop-it smile, “I’ll see him in a couple hours.  See ya’s.”  And he moved toward the line at the register.

Michael craned over a shoulder, “What’s got INTO him?”

“Or hasn’t,” Emmett switched to the seat across from Michael, leaned close.  “Does this remind you of the days right before the big breakup?”

“No,” Michael shook his head, tapped a fry into ketchup.  “This is…different.  Don’t know why.”  He glumly added,  “At least I won’t have to worry about Ben’s birthday party.  He’ll be at a five-day symposium at Berkley.”

“As in…West Coast?”

Michael nodded.  “Then…it’s not like we were planning to be together anyway.”

“Sweetie?  I’m no Mysterious Marilyn…her wardrobe is appalling…but Ben’s in loooove.  And when he’s done with this little side trip?  He knows where home really is.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” Michael half-smiled, “But I’M the one who gave the ultimatum.  Can we talk about someone else now?”

“Okay.  Who’s not here,” Emmett’s brows knit.  “Isn’t Justin’s birthday the same as Ben’s?”

“Yeah,” Michael realized, “Three years he’s been with Brian. I’ll never understand how they made it this far.”  And he finally ate the cold mashed fry while still pondering.

“Well I know ONE thing,” Emmett leaned back, watched Justin finish paying, go out the door, “Better get out your umbrellas.  Because when he tells Brian about the shower?  It’ll be raining roof shingles alllll over Pittsburgh tonight.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Michael picked another fry.  “I’ve seen the Mountain come to Mohammed too many times.”  And he swirled the fry in his plate, mopping up the last of the ketchup.

In the Loft kitchen and saving on after-dinner dishwasher costs, Justin swirled a dry cloth over a plate, handed it to Brian for the high shelf.  Their choreography and light conversation had meshed well.  Until Justin tackled Everest.

Brian stood with one hand on the counter, the other on his hip, tongue against a cheek longer than usual, waited until Justin looked up to see why the plate he’d dried was still in his outstretched hand.  “Would you…repeat that?  I don’t think I heard it right.”

Justin set the plate down, grabbed and toweled another, eyes flicking at Brian with casual calm.  “I said I want to have a party here next Saturday…and YOU said-”

“That’s before you told me it was a Lesbian Love Fest.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Justin went serious, “They’re our friends and I’d like to do this for them.”  Justin turned with a hand on his hip, same as Brian.  “Are you saying that I can do it only if YOU approve the guest list?”

A fucking power play?  Moment of decision: gun back or give in.  Or find the in-between.  Brian touched his forehead, closed his eyes.  “I’m just having a little trouble imagining the Loft as a Muncher Wonderland.”

“It’s not like we have to BE here,” Justin eased, “I’m sure you can think of SOMETHING we can do to kill a few hours,” with a little eyelid action for spice.

Brian blinked back, blood racing up his dick.  He moved toward Justin, ran his hands up Justin’s arms,  “You have as much right as I do here,” skimmed them up Justin’s neck and controlled a flash of urge. “Within reason.”

“It’s a one-time event,” Justin hooked his hands on Brian’s for insurance.  “Just a small group of women and -”

“Not even ONE cock in the flock?”

“Emmett.”

“Guess not,” Brian quick-flipped a brow, backed off and leaned against the refrigerator, hand to his chin in ominous thinker pose as he slowly raked his eyes over Justin’s form.  Saw the blue eyes dart erratic, a blush tinge his face.

“What’re you doing?” Justin tensed a smile.  A little creepy, a little arousing.

A mental strip-fuck.  “Thinking.”

“About what?” Justin relaxed into a seductive lean.  What was he usually thinking about.

Eyes and smile on Justin, Brian lazily removed his own tee shirt, pulled the middle cabinet drawer open and draped the shirt over it.

Justin stripped with equal pacing, watched Brian’s body reveal itself slowly in their visual foreplay.  Teasing without touching.  The turn of a hip.  Twitch of solid cock.  Stretch and roll of abdominals.  Brian wet his lips.  Slow.  Eyes in pulse-driving focus so potent, Justin felt his skin tingle from the assault.  Two could play this game.

Brian watched Justin raise and roll his head, cream neck taunting.  Smooth hand to his neck, drifting down his chest, swirling over a hip then snaking to his groin.  And stopping just shy of his rigid, darkening cock.  Sloooow blink, open smile, tongue tip running his lower lip.  Then a lazy pelvic roll under his hand.

Fuck.  We’re fucking killing each other. “That’s cheating,” Brian moved in. 

“Not if everybody wins,” Justin raised his arms to pull Brian’s face against his.  When they kissed, everything merged.  Lips.  Tongues.  Breaths.  Sounds…scents…cocks and sweat and limbs and not a goddamn thing on earth tasted so amazing.

Still pressed to Justin, Brian reached back, pulled his shirt off the open drawer, one-hand spread it on the sink counter and backed Justin against it.  His foot hooked Justin’s dropped clothing, dragged the pile to their feet.  Then Brian’s lips followed Justin’s earlier trail down his neck…down…knees sinking onto cloth as he tongued a hipbone, bypassed anxious cock to dip his shoulder under Justin’s left knee.

Hands caressing Brian’s neck and back, Justin draped his leg over Brian’s shoulder, felt it lift with Brian’s short rise, shifting his weight to one leg. “Any higher, I’ll fall over.”

“I won’t let you,” Brian smiled, reached into the open drawer for lube.  Heavily wet his lips and kissed the tip of Justin’s cock then tightened his mouth and pressed down to let the shaft penetrate him more than he devoured IT.  Just the head.  And up.  Then more.  And up.  Until he could feel Justin fill his throat.  Fingers dragging on his back and raking his hair.  Low hums vibrating like high voltage.

Eyes shut, head rolling loosely, Justin fought the humping impulse that made his draped leg clench, support leg bend.  Brian’s lips were so tight, he wanted to push in hard. Brian’s breaths chilled his damp cock on the release, throat wrapped it warm and tight each swallow.  Justin felt a lubed finger probe then ream his ass so smoothly, no matter how he moved his hips, the fuck-suck duo charred his senses.

Brian set his hand on Justin’s tightening quad.  He could’ve sucked that hard young cock to ninety types of release.  But the feel of Justin’s heat and strangle on his finger made his own cock weep and beg.  And a tremor flit through Justin’s thigh.  Brian backed off, shoulder low so Justin’s leg slid to the floor.  He grabbed the clothing while rising to a stand, tossed the bundle into the open drawer and guided Justin to face it. “Other leg,” he kissed Justin’s neck below the ear, palmed the back of Justin’s right leg until Justin lifted a foot to settle on the clothes in the drawer.

Justin reached under the clothing for a condom, stripped it open, tossed the packet in the sink and handed the ring over his shoulder.  No taker?  He twisted his head back to investigate, got Brian’s lips on his and the condom caressed from his hand.  He stole a second to lower his head, nuzzle Brian’s neck and chin before turning forward, ready.  Wanting this.

Brian palmed a half moon for access, other hand guiding his dick until its sensitive tip found the anal well and breached the barrier ring.  One arm circling Justin’s waist, the other on Justin’s cock, Brian drove in easy, stopping once to let the tremors calm.  All he could hear…all he WANTED to hear…were the vocal tones of his partner’s pleasure.

Justin settled one hand over Brian’s, cock twitching with the throb and beat that filled him.  His other hand rode the curve of Brian’s ass, where muscle peaked and waned.  A guide for his own movements.  So their bodies would always meet just right, until a higher sense took over.  And what needed to happen…just did.

In the heat of pants and thrusts, Brian had to kiss Justin’s neck.  Taste the salty oil and sweetness.  Then Justin came strong and loud, bent leg springing him back so hard, Brian grabbed the faucet to stay steady.  Brian thrust deep to the hilt - I almost told you no.  This almost didn’t happen.  So if I forget, remind me that it’s YOUR home, too - wrapped arms tight around Justin’s waist and shot everything he had.

When the room refocused, Brian found himself back against the counter, arms still around Justin propped against him with pale straight legs between his darker pair.  Brian wet his dry lips, dropped his chin on Justin’s shoulder.  “Any OTHER ideas before we hit Babylon?”

Justin rolled his head toward Brian’s. “A shower.  And it’s Wild Beast night on PBS.”

“How can I resist,” Brian shifted slightly, felt dull pain from the counter edge in his back, tension in his quads.  “I could pull out, but it’d be easier if you lift off.”  He saw Justin mouth a pitiful Oooooold, displayed his right palm, “Are you asking for THIS, too?”

“I didn’t SAY it,” Justin grinned, braced his hands on Brian’s thighs…

…leaned back on Brian’s chest and lifted the TV remote.

In the low kitchen light, they were under a sheet and slouched against pillows on the open sleeper. Brian settled an arm around Justin. “Are there any good fuck scenes?”

“Possibly later,” Justin smiled.  He turned his head to meet Brian’s quick kiss, touched the remote and lit them in the flickering light of a cat carrying its kitten.

“…in their societal order.  The female carefully hides her litter because the alpha male will surely destroy those that are not his own.”

As the big tom started his brutal hunt to kill, feelings hardly buried ruptured fragile seams. Brian grabbed the control, clicked to dark silence and stared at the dead screen.

“Brian?” Justin whispered, didn’t move.  He could feel Brian’s hard pulse.  Body rigid as when… “Brian,” Justin swallowed and went for broke.  “Is this about…that drawing?”

“Darwin was right.  We all evolved from the same life form.”

Brian pulled away, slid flat and rolled his back to Justin, rested his face in the darkest shadows so he could numb and reseal the gash. 

But Justin wouldn’t let him.  Replayed every word, groping for a meaning. He carefully settled against Brian’s back, head down with his cheek against the back of Brian’s head, hand stroking Brian’s hair soft and slow, voice a bare whisper.  “Is it about your Dad?”

Brian clenched his eyes shut - Don’t FUCKING blow my focus.  It’s past history.  BULLshit.  Doesn’t mean a fucking THING.  Won’t touch me…won’t GET to me.

“Tell me, Brian. I need to know what to do.”

Maybe it was the desperation in Justin’s voice…or the urgency building in his touch… that stopped the process.  Because all the times before…it never hurt anyone else.  But now…tell Justin to fuck off?  Flat TAKE off?  Leave him lost and feeling helpless?  I won’t do that to him again.

Brian opened his eyes.  Exhaled a long breath.  Let himself feel Justin’s head cradled on his neck, the light circles of a hand on his back.  “We barely knew each other.”  Sure, I gave him money – what was I trying to buy.  “He raved about his successful son.  All about image.”  But he never really believed…or DID he.  “He came to see me once. And I showed him Gus.”  His fucking world.  Where men sew with wire.  Laugh when some fucker gets hurt.  Use Fuck you for Thank you.  What would Pop say if he was sorry for too many things to say.  Or for a feeling…that didn’t have a word.  “He told me he was dying from cancer.  But I didn’t get what he meant.”

“I think you did,” Justin leaned his head against Brian’s.  “You let him see Gus.”  After a silent pause and Brian’s calmer state, “Does your Mom know about Gus?”  He could feel Brian tighten, almost hear his pulse again.

“And let her curse ANOTHER Kinney generation?”  Don’t even fucking think it.

Justin rose on an arm, closed his hand on Brian’s shoulder.  I think you’re making a mistake.  “Then what about Gus?”

“He’ll have a happy fag-loving childhood,” Brian grit.  I’m fucking WARNING you…

“Brian, he’s got an aunt and…ahh,” Justin gasped when Brian gripped and vised his hand, but kept up louder, “- and two cousins, and he has a right to know!”

Brian’s hand fell loose onto the mattress, adrenaline rush reduced to a sharp breath, eyes wide.  Recalling the burn he’d felt the moment HE thought what wasn’t even true.  Making his intent for Gus much worse than what Joan did to HIM.  “I don’t want any fucking part of them,” he strained past his tightening throat, “But you’re right.”

Justin wrapped around Brian to stop the chill across skin over muscles gone limp and unresponsive.  My family wasn’t like yours and I won’t pretend to understand.  So I’ll let you rest, and I’ll be quiet, and just be here.

When strong men cry, they go to places outside themselves.  So they can’t feel the tears – even though only few.  Once there…alone on a mountain, or deserted beach, or sailboat far offshore…the world stops closing in and they’re free to shut down and reset without fearing they’ve lost control.  So though his eyes were open with one tear drifting slow, Brian wasn’t home.  Didn’t feel Justin’s hold, or hear Justin’s whisper brush his hair… “I’ll take care of it.”

Setting sun on Brian’s face.  To a lone figure on a Bridge.  In a vast deserted City.  Where only the rivers move.

Song: “Crashing By Design” by Pete Townsend

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