Better Friends and Lovers

Chapter 23

(Setting: New York City, Miguel's Apartment in Soho; POV/Daphne)

Brian had been pretty quiet the whole trip up here. I tried talking to him a couple of times, but he was good at shutting me up with a look. After a few of those Kinney glares over the course of the first couple of hours, I gave up on discussing the situation with him. I bothered Jamie with text messages instead, until the stewardess told me to put my cell phone away. Jamie wasn't much more interested in responding to my musings over who this Miguel was, and how Justin ended up with him in some kind of impaired condition than Brian was, but there are some things a boyfriend has to put up with. He was at the ER doing the graveyard shift, so his answers were spaced out over intervals. He didn't tend to be any more sympathetic towards my best friend than Danny had been, although he'd surprised me by not balking at my taking this crazy trip up here. I think I'd kind of hoped he would so I'd have had an excuse to stay home. Instead, he'd commented as he kissed me good-bye at the security check point that it was a good idea we were going.

Brian had looked at him in surprise.

"Really, Jock Doc? You think there could be something seriously wrong? I thought you agreed with Danny that there was no need for a hospital?"

"What I said was, there seemed no point to that guy trying to force Justin to go to a hospital, especially since he had no knowledge of Justin's allergies, or medical history, or even of what he had taken. Given all that, the two of them would sit in a City Hospital Emergency Room for hours, unless Justin was unconscious, and even then, based on what you two have told me of his extreme allergies, they would be hesitant to do anything other than monitor him without someone who did know his medical history to consult with. He would be more comfortable, and probably better off, watched by this Miguel guy, who seemed reasonably intelligent. At least he'd be in a bed rather than lying alone on a stretcher in some hospital hallway, and maybe monitored, if they had a monitored stretcher or bed available. Once taken to the hospital, his friend would be separated from him, as he isn't a relative or even a partner. I'd like to say that every ER is well staffed and carefully monitors every patient, but that isn't the case. Junkies aren't high priority."

"Justin isn't a junkie," Brian had objected, shooting Jamie a glare that dared him to argue the point.

Jamie hadn't risen to the challenge, but simply continued talking calmly. "They wouldn't know that. All they would see would be another skinny, young looking kid with symptoms of an apparent overdose from an unknown and illegal drug. They would still render him care, it's their job, but self inflicted conditions aren't always treated the same as ones people can't help. So all I'm saying is, he wouldn't be pushed ahead of the middle-aged heart attack victim for the monitored bed, even if they would think he was at just as much risk of complications if they knew all there was to know about his drug sensitivity and prior head injury. An ER doctor can easily make a mistake if he doesn't have the right information. With a neurological background as tricky as Justin's, I sure as hell wouldn't want to try treating him blindly."

Jamie shook his head. "Stupid kids, taking drugs when they don't even know what's in them. They're a nightmare to treat, and you never know what will interact badly with what's in their system. Why anyone would take an unknown drug, especially ones that mess you up neurologically is something I can't understand. May as well play Russian Roulette as take a pill from someone at a bar. You've been lucky, Brian, damn lucky, I've seen some really fucked up people who stay fucked up, all because they took a pretty pill from some stranger. And for a kid like Justin, who can't even take fucking Tylenol? It's practically suicide."

Brian had turned pale early on during this speech. I'd squeezed Jamie's arm warningly, trying to stop him from elaborating. He'd looked down and gave me a reassuring hug; I must have looked pretty shaken too. I mean, I knew all this from my training but I guess I convinced myself that Justin would never do anything like this, even though I knew he had in the past. Jamie had softened his voice when he did continue, putting a friendly arm around Brian's shoulder and shaking him a little.

"All that said, you're probably going up there on a wild goose chase, because as soon as you get there, he'll be fine and wondering why everyone is making such a big fuss. I hope you both read him the riot act. But just in case he isn't okay, you'll be in the right place to help. For all his bitching, Danny understands that, and that's why he got the tickets for you. He's a pretty great guy, Brian, and he knows that you need to be there for the little shit."

Jamie had looked steadily in Brian's eyes at that last comment, smiling slightly. Brian had met his look briefly, then just mumbled something about having to hurry to catch the plane, thanking Jamie for the ride before moving on to the metal detector.

Leaning against Jamie's solid warmth for another moment, I'd wished he could come with us, but there was no way. He was going to be late for the hospital as it was. He had called and gotten the doctor he was relieving to stay an extra hour. Even though he didn't like Justin, I knew if he were there, he would make sure he was given the right care. There was a world of difference between being a full fledged doctor and an almost third year medical student when it came to dealing with strange medical staff. Plus, his sheer size and presence got him attention and respect everywhere he went, although Brian's looks and presence ensured that for us as well. Jamie had pushed me on my way with a few final words of reassurance before heading off to his car.

I stole a peek at Brian now. The last words he'd spoken were to confirm our destination with the driver that Ted or someone back home had arranged to pick us up at the airport. We were in some kind of fancy town car, rather than a full blown limousine, but it was still pretty luxurious. Brian's face looked drawn. We both were tired, of course, it was the middle of the night after all, but it was more than fatigue showing on his handsome face. He was emotionally drained even before we arrived, I realized, and was bracing himself for whatever might lie ahead. I reached out and took his hand as we stood by the curb, looking up at the apartment building. He might have trouble holding himself together if it were just him, but Brian would do it if he thought I needed him to be strong. So I leaned on him, and in doing so, I helped him be strong for both of our sakes.

"He'll be okay, Daph, he's a tough kid," he whispered to me as he threw an arm over my shoulder and pulled me closer. I nodded, and tried to swallow the lump in my throat. Suddenly, I couldn't help but think back to the prom night, when I waited for Justin to come back from walking Brian to his jeep so he could take me home. But Justin never came back that night. Only a policeman, looking for me so he could take me to the hospital. Even in the grip of his fear for Justin's life that horrible night, Brian had remembered to send someone back for me. That was just the way he was.

I clung to Brian now, and it was no longer a pretense as I was truly afraid of what we'd find, my mind filled with "what ifs." What if this Miguel had to take Justin to the hospital and they gave him some medicine he was allergic to? What if Miguel didn't take him anywhere but abandoned him, sick and out of his head? What if Justin went back to that Simon guy and he did something horrible to him for going out with Miguel? What if it was already too late to fix all the problems in our friendship that I'd just always assumed there would be plenty of time to fix? I blinked rapidly, trying to make the tears go away, but instead they started falling down my face, messing up my eye makeup, no doubt making me look more of a mess than I already did.

Exhaling sharply, Brian stopped and pulled me even tighter against his chest, rubbing his hand along my back. He put his head down to my ear, the words hard but his voice soft.

"Cut it out. You know what Jamie said. He's probably fine. We haven't heard anything else since we got off the plane and we would have if there were any problems. Someone would have called or left a message or something. I know what you're thinking, fuck, they're the same thoughts that have been running through my head for the past couple of hours, but having panic attacks out here on the sidewalk doesn't do anyone any good. And making yourself look like a badly made-up drag queen doesn't help either, so unless you want this Miguel guy to shut the door in our faces, do something about your makeup, you look a mess."

With those touching words of support, Brian hugged me tightly, then gave me some clean tissues to wipe my face. After a minute of watching me dab at my eyes ineffectually, he took them back and did the job himself. Then he gave me a final kiss on the lips, one of his Brian Kinney, sex god kisses and pronounced me "fit to be seen by a New York City fag."

"They have standards up here, you know, Daph, and we can't have our little Sunshine shamed by his hag looking, well, hagged."

I giggled and felt much better as together we walked up to the front of the apartment building and went inside a small vestibule. As New York neighborhoods went, this one looked pretty nice. Inside, he pressed the buzzer labeled "M/J Martinez." We heard a responsive buzz a moment later and Brian pulled the heavy interior door open. We took the stairs to the third floor since we didn't see an elevator, and found the right apartment quickly enough. A dark haired man, presumably Miguel, was standing in the doorway, waiting for us. He was dark complexioned, which I expected, but was taller than I had imagined, maybe about six feet tall, and well built, though slim. He was dressed in dark pants and a black t-shirt, and looked as tired as I felt. He was looking us over as carefully as we were eying him.

But at least he didn't look like he had bad news.

Brian held out his hand. "Mr. Martinez? I'm Brian Kinney, this is Daphne Chanders, we're Justin's friends. Thank you for calling us and letting us impose on you like this. He's still here, isn't he?"

The man smiled briefly, showing beautiful white teeth that gleamed against his tanned skin as he shook Brian's hand and then mine. His voice was lightly accented.

"He's sleeping like a baby. Which is a good thing, I suppose, except that it means you two have had a trip here for nothing, unless of course you'd like to help me kill him when he wakes up? And please, call me Miguel. It is a pleasure to meet some friends of Justin's, nice to see he actually has some. At the very least, you can now take the little pato off my hands."

Despite his smile there was a definite edge to this Miguel's words. I bristled a little bit but Brian actually laughed. He gave the other man a slow, approving once over, raising an eyebrow when he was done.

"Pato, huh? Isn't that the pot calling the kettle queer? And while he can be a bit of a drama queen, he's our little queen, so yeah, we'll take him off your hands. Can I take it from your relaxed demeanor that there have been no more scares with him?"

Miguel grinned back at Brian, after making his own appreciative appraisal. "He got a little antsy around midnight, horny around one and maudlin around two, but since then has been sleeping the sleep of the righteous. Unlike the rest of us. But I'm forgetting what little manners my abeula knocked into my head, please, come into my humble abode. Justin has already told me, ad nauseam, that it can't compare to your loft, but that's okay, my salary can't compare to yours either, and it's a rental anyway. In any event, it's home."

Miguel stepped back from the door and motioned us in with an expansive wave of his arm. He seemed pretty tense beneath his flippant attitude. His place was nice, tiny, but sparkling clean and I had an idea from my cousin of what rentals cost in this area. He was probably paying an arm and a leg for a refurbished studio apartment like this in Soho, so close to the village in a secure building. It was decorated in bright colors, and had a very Mexican feel to it, down to the woven rugs covering the hardwood floors and pottery on the tables. The sofa was made up for sleeping on, and papers were strewn around the old coffee table in front of it.

"Justin is sleeping in the bedroom, which is through there." Miguel pointed. So, this guy wasn't sleeping with Justin. At least not tonight. When company was expected. I looked at him closely as we walked past him on our way to the bedroom. Brian was still asking him questions in a friendly way but I stayed quiet. He was a good looking guy but not in Brian's league at all. He wasn't in Jamie and Danny's league either for that matter. But, he looked a hell of a sight better than the old guy Justin was living with. One of the books on the table was on criminal procedure. He caught me staring at it.

"I'm T.A'ing a second year class this fall for one of my old professors. This will be my fourth and final year at New York Law. I've been reviewing the cases in the text to get some questions ready for the class discussions since I'm up anyway."

"Daphne here is going into her last year of medical school. Such bright children," Brian volunteered, making a tsking noise.

"Not all bright children. Justin is a drop-out," chimed in a cheerful voice from the bed. "Daphne! Brian! What the fuck are you two doing here?" With that, Justin jumped up, clad only in his little white underpants, and tumbled out of the bed, luckily the room was so small he fell into Brian's arms, otherwise he would have landed on his face.

"Well, if it isn't our little Sunshine. Did you enjoy your nap?" Brian held him close for just a moment then pulled back so he could peer into his eyes. He glanced over at Miguel and the man seemed to read his mind as he flipped on a bright overhead light. Justin yelped.

"Hey, too bright! Turn that off, Migs! Brian, this is Migs! He's my new best friend. Well, Daphne is my best friend, but Migs is my best babysitter, that's what he is. He babysits me 'cos his brother Juan pays him to take care of me....I think. But Juan has no money so he probably doesn't pay him. He must do it for love, not money. Maybe you could get Brian to pay you to take care of me, Miguel, and then you could get a nicer apartment."

Justin had his arms wrapped around Brian's neck, and twisted around, to look mockingly at Miguel, who gave him a long suffering look before responding.

"Well, one thing is, I like my apartment, Justin. The other thing is, Juan asked me to be your friend, not your babysitter and you don't have to pay people to be friends with you, you just have to stop being a dick." Miguel moved over to the bed and started folding the covers that Justin had pulled off it.

"I'm sure Justin didn't mean anything by it, Miguel, he's just not himself right now." I had to speak out in Justin's defense. Brian was holding him up but he wasn't saying anything. Just standing there with a funny expression on his face while Justin leaned on him. Miguel met my look with one that made me feel kind of foolish.

"You and I must differ on this point then, Daphne. I think that the thing about being impaired by drugs or booze is that often people are more themselves than they might otherwise be when they have more control over themselves and can hide the feelings or attitudes they don't want others to know. They let their masks slip. Justin would never dream of admitting what he just said to me when he's his normal self, but the truth is, my brother did ask me to look out for him, and Justin does probably wonder if I would give a shit about him for his own sake if it weren't for the promise I made my brother, who is Justin's friend, probably the only one he made on his own before Simon got his clutches into him, to look out for him. And I think Justin believes that people have to pay for affection, that certainly seems to be the way it works for him and Simon, if we're speaking euphemistically for the child's sake."

I flushed. I looked again to see if Brian would say anything but he merely looked thoughtful and stood there, stroking Justin's hair calmingly. Justin turned to look at Miguel with a pouting expression. Not an angry one, despite having just being insulted by his so-called friend, but merely a slightly dissatisfied look. That whole situation with the rich old guy made me sick but Justin was as stubborn as ever about it, refusing to listen to reason. Even worse, he didn't seem to think it made any difference to his relationship with Brian. How fucked up was that?

"I hate it when you talk about Edward that way." Justin whined, frowning. Then he turned to Brian, his face lighting up with a big smile. Shit, he still wasn't down from whatever it was he took. His emotions were all over the place like a little kid. Mind you, he could be like that anyway, but this was more exaggerated, with no stops, kind of like Miguel suggested, though I would never admit out loud to agreeing with the arrogant asshole. The "real Justin" without reservations. Great, just what Brian and I needed when we were exhausted. At the moment, from the looks of it, he was trying to crawl inside Brian's clothes with him.

"Brian, let's go out dancing! Miguel's boring. He brought me back here and he won't even fuck me. We can go out dancing like we used to, or we can stay here and fuck. Daphne always wanted to watch us do it, you know. Maybe Miguel will want to fuck too, if you top him, you're beautiful and Miguel only likes beautiful men. I'm too pale and young looking for him. He calls me a baby boy pato."

This was embarrassing. But neither of the men seemed to be all that bothered by Justin's comments. Brian went on stroking Justin's back, holding him lightly, as though he was a fractious child. Miguel went about fixing the bed. He'd apparently decided to strip the sheets from it and put fresh ones on, and I moved to help him, wanting to be useful. Brian sat down in a rocker that was squeezed into a space near the window and held Justin in his lap. He was speaking to him in a low voice. I couldn't hear what he was saying but presumably he was putting the kibosh on the orgy idea.

Miguel looked up at me, his brown eyes amused, but kind.

"If you think that was bad, you're lucky you weren't here earlier. I now know more about the sexual kinks of one Edward Simon than I ever wanted to. As soon as work is over tomorrow, I'm getting majorly drunk and hoping for a big memory loss. But don't look so worried, I do think he's okay now. Slowly but surely, he's been getting less erratic. I was sure glad, however, when I heard you two were heading up here. I was about ready to drop him off at the gallery and to hell with the consequences when he was climbing the walls a couple hours ago, but the dark angel talked me out of it."

Brian lifted his head. "You talked to him again?"

"He's called every hour to make sure everything was okay, once he found out I wasn't going to be able to go to sleep. He got his brother to call too, the doctor? That guy was cool, he checked in every chance he could between patients, and told me what to look for, and went over how he seemed. They tag teamed keeping me awake, along with this other guy, Auntie Em, he called himself. Once they did a conference call and had me cracking up laughing at the way they cut each other up. It reminded me of my own brothers and me. In fact, at the Angel's suggestion, I called Juan in California, and he talked to Justin for awhile and was able to calm him down. We got through the worst of it that way, basically in fifteen minute increments. But the Angel, man, he was adamant that it would be a bad thing to take Justin back to Simon in this kind of shape, for Justin and for me. And I don't think anyone knows Simon like he does."

Justin glanced over, his blue eyes looking sleepy now. Brian's rocking him was doing the trick.

"What angel? Miguel, are you telling Brian your crazy story about Edward and his angels? Brian, you should hear it, he thinks Edward is some kind of nut with an obsession over young artists, and that he's been stalking that guy, your piano player, for like, a decade."

"Well, you know all about stalking now, don't you?" Brian kept his tone light and teasing. Justin giggled and relaxed back into his arms. I watched as Brian stroked the blond hair back from the pale face. I think on one level, Brian was just relieved to find Justin safe and relatively sound, as I was. On a whole different level, it was a struggle not to freak out as we were learning a lot of disturbing information about his life here in New York that he'd been keeping from us. Justin had made it sounds like he went out all the time, but from the things said tonight, that really wasn't the case. It sounded like he was a prisoner to this Simon guy, and could only go out by sneaking away. It also didn't seem like he had any friends his own age, other than this Miguel, and he was apparently watching him as a favor to his brother? Now that I thought about it, Justin had talked about a friend named Juan months ago but I hadn't heard him mentioned in a while. What the fuck was that all about? This brother certainly didn't seem to like Justin very much yet he had gone out of his way for him tonight. Although, at times, when he thought no one was watching, I thought I saw an expression of real caring on his face when he looked over at Justin. So Miguel was a bit of an enigma.

The plan had been to get out of here if Justin were okay and head straight over to the Westin on 43rd Street, in Times Square. It was close to Simon's gallery, and we could stay there with Justin until we escorted him back to his golden cage. Now I think Brian wanted to get some more information from Miguel before we left. But to do that, he would probably need to get Justin back to sleep. Looking at the man's tired face as he stood watching Brian hold Justin, it struck me that we were being really inconsiderate to him, especially since he had work the next day.

"Brian, maybe Miguel can tell you the story tomorrow, but for now, it might be best to get going to the hotel. Justin doesn't seem like he needs medical attention and Miguel can try to get some sleep."

The man looked at me gratefully before turning to Brian.

"I don't want to be rude, but the truth is, I do have to be at work in a couple of hours. If you can hang around until after that, five-thirty or so, which is when I'll be ready to start on that drinking, I'd love the chance to talk to you about our little friend here. You're welcome to stay. If you want, you can take the bed. It was all damp from him getting the sweats earlier, but it has fresh sheets on it now and you should be able to fit at least two of you on it, maybe all three of you if you don't mind being cozy. Or one of you can take the sofa and I'll make up the air mattress we keep around for drop in guests for me. I'm fucking ready to drop and could sleep on the bare floor at this point. I have a full day ahead of me tomorrow that I'd prefer not to call out on if I can avoid it. Your friend back home contacted a friend of his at the Westin and you're all checked in already. The key cards were dropped off a couple hours ago and are on the coffee table. You'll be able to go right to your suite and the staff will apparently tell anyone who might ask that you got in sometime after midnight. So I think all bases are covered for now."

Wow, Danny thought of everything. Too bad he wasn't here. Though that would make it really weird and it was strange enough. We already had Brian cradling Justin like a lost child; Justin curled up on his lap like the Little Prince, minus his clothes and the flower; this Miguel guy looking like Zorro, and talking about Edward Simon as though he were the rich landowner about to steal away the family homestead, and me, I felt like the loyal sidekick, but at a loss as to who the bad guy really was. Or whose sidekick I was now; I no longer felt like I was Justin's, and yet I wasn't quite Brian's either. I wondered who Danny would be in this little drama. Maybe he would be the real Zorro? But then it struck me, duh, he would be the avenging Dark Angel, of course. But which man would he save from the evil bad guy? Knowing Danny, he'd try to save all three from the bad guy. And the loyal sidekick, too. But, Rage alone should be enough to handle any middle-aged stalker, even if he did specialize in straight menaces, not gay ones. The trouble would be convincing J.T/The Little Prince that he needed saving. A sudden though came out of nowhere that it was Danny who was the one at risk from the evil man, and he was the one who needed Rage to save him, not J.T. at all.

Damn, I needed sleep, I was getting punchy.

Brian gave a heavy sigh, looking at Justin's peaceful face. The blond had drifted off again. At least someone was getting his beauty sleep tonight. Brian looked up at Miguel.

"I think you need your own bed, but we appreciate your generous offer. I can't tell you how grateful we are that you stayed with him tonight and looked after him. I get the impression you've been doing that for some time, and I thank you for that, too. What can I say, other than that he had us pretty damn fooled that everything was fine up here. I should have checked in with him more and not taken his word for it. I'd wanted to get back to Pittsburgh by late morning tomorrow, but I don't see that happening now. We'll wait to talk to you after we see him back to the gallery. That is, if we can't talk him into making other living arrangements. After we find out what's up from you, we'll go on from there. Again, Miguel, thank you, for everything. He really is an okay kid. This has been a rough adjustment for him."

Brian spoke softly, but was giving Miguel his sincere look. I could see the man swallow hard; Brian in full "charming" mode was pretty devastating. Since we already had each other's cell phone numbers, the rest of our goodbyes were quick. We got Justin dressed in some loose sweat pants of Miguel's and took his club clothes with us to get cleaned. Brian carried him down to the waiting car and arranged to touch base with Miguel in the afternoon to confirm plans to meet up somewhere for dinner and the big discussion. Miguel seemed so relieved to have someone to discuss Justin's situation with, I couldn't help wondering what kind of problem my "best friend" had gotten himself into this time. Thank God my better friend was around to get him out of it.

As long as it didn't lead to heartbreak for my soon to be brother-in-law. Damn, when did life become so complicated?

*************************************************

(Setting: Babylon; late afternoon the day after Brian's trip to New York; POV/Hunter)

Danny rushed in and immediately started stripping off his suit.

"Sorry guys, I know I'm late and the club has to open in another two hours. Just let me run into the back and throw on my tights, Brandon, and I'll be ready to rehearse our number."

Brandon and Etienne looked over at him from where they'd been reviewing the acts for the second third of the benefit.

"You'd better warm up first, Danny, take twenty minutes to get ready. I've stretched already but I don't mind waiting. I'll do a few more warm-ups with you." Brandon spoke in his usual drawl, and leaned lazily against the table, showing off his lithe form in his own little white leotard to the sexy Frenchman, who gave him an approving look. I didn't want to burst Brandon's little bubble, but I think the approval was based more on what Etienne saw as niceness to his Danny than on any real attraction to what Brandon had on display, fine looking as it was. I wondered if Brandon stuffed the front of his tights, he really looked a lot bigger in them than he did in jeans, though Danny did say dancing excited the guy. I would think a stiff cock would be a little distracting, however, when you were trying to dance. One thing about swimming, you could always count on the cold water in the pool to take care of any embarrassing problems like that. Of course, the flip side of it was, shrinkage made you look like had nothing at all in that speedo. Danny didn't wear a codpiece or whatever they called it in his dance tights, preferring a snug jockstrap, but maybe Brandon was different. But then, if that were the case, Danny wouldn't know he was getting hard, would he? My mind has the tendency to go off on the weirdest tangents, I decided, as I followed Danny to the dressing room..

"I don't need to warm up more. I did some stretching at the office while on the conference call that delayed me. Plus, I literally ran over here so I'm good. Give me ten seconds," Danny called over his shoulder, his jacket, tie and shirt already off and his belt soon following. I went behind him, picking it all up.

"Okay, just don't pull something during one of those lifts; I don't want to get dropped on my ass because you're too stubborn to stretch properly," Brandon called after him.

Danny's laugher could be heard from the backroom. When I caught up to him, he was standing in his jock strap, searching for his black leotard. I handed it to him, trying not to drool at the sight of all his muscles, not to mention the size of the package he managed to fit into that jock. Most guys would look dumb standing in just a jockstrap; not Danny. I heard Ted talking at the diner about how Mr. Brown himself of Brown Athletics tried getting Danny to be his new model, but he turned him down. Apparently Danny wouldn't model for the man who fired Drew Boyd just for coming out, even though Brown later reversed that decision. Brian and Danny had one of their blow out arguments over it, but then Danny got one of his look alike nephews to do it instead as a compromise, his brother John's son, Johnny, so everyone was happy. I've seen Johnny, he's working on the benefit too and he's pretty hot, for a nineteen year old, but no one quite measures up to Danny, if you ask me. His muscles look like they're carved from rock, marble or something. He makes Michelangelo's David look out of shape. Bigger cock, too. Fuck, he was talking to me, time to pay attention to something besides his looks. Or at least seem to.

"Brandon was shirtless, does that mean he and Etienne decided we should go without the tanks for this?" He looked up at me, eyebrow cocked, as he sat down to pull on the tights. I thought for a moment. What had they decided on that?

"Yeah, Etienne said the line of your bodies would balance better with less to break it up, more elemental or something. I think he just wants to perv on all that skin touching."

Danny huffed out a laugh as he stood back up and smoothed out the tights.

"You're probably right, but if he does, so will everyone else. Maybe I'd better hit the tanning booth this weekend then, to contrast more, since I'm supposed to be darkness and Brandon is light. His skin is pale enough, but I could stand to be darker. What do you think?"

I thought I was happy to have an excuse to stare some more. Danny stood in front of me in the lycra tights, barefoot and bare chested. His skin tone was tanned a warm shade of caramel, so different from my own pasty skin that never did anything but burn and freckle. The tan set off his defined chest and back muscles perfectly. The low cut tights stopped just below his inguinal muscles, and his full set of abdominal muscles were on display. Plus, the black tights did nothing to hide the taut ass or bulging thigh muscles. They stopped midway down his calf, where more well developed muscles showed. He was a walking wet dream.

"Hunter?"

"Huh?"

"What do you think?" What I thought was that I could come just looking at him but that probably wasn't the answer he was looking for, what the hell did he ask? Tan, he wanted to know if he needed a tan. Mind drifts to thoughts of naked Danny in a tanning booth, bad mind.

"Uh, you look perfect. No more tan needed. You sure you don't want to stretch, though?"

Danny grinned.

"Yes, mother, I'm sure. And I took my vitamins today, too. Come on, watch me wow Julliard and Oscar."

Those were our nicknames for Brandon and Etienne, shared only with Emmett, after an evening spent listening to the other two men play snobby name dropping games with each other. Danny threw his arm around me and we walked out together. I was so hard by this point it hurt.

"Okay, I'm ready." Danny called over to Brandon, who was leaning over Etienne as he sat at one of the little café tables near the stage. The blond, dressed in a similar pair of tights, but in white, straightened up and quickly jumped onto the stage. I moved over to the sound booth to cue their music.

The dance, which Danny had choreographed for him and Brandon, was incredible. It was a modern ballet number, which normally I would've said wasn't my thing, but this piece changed my view of ballet. It was amazing. It told the story of two men, (duh), who are brought together by chance, fight their attraction, and then celebrate it, until torn apart by something, a fight, a misunderstanding, whatever. The dark one searches desperately until he finds the light one again, and then they dance all seductively. It sounds simplistic when described that way, but it isn't when you watch it unfold. I was never into dance, but there was just something about the way their bodies moved together. I'd asked Danny to tell me more about the "whys" of the action but he told me my own explanation was just as valid as his once he was done, that the audience can put their own interpretation on the "whys" and the "whats;" that is what makes a performance art form like dance fun, it is organic, he told me. It is very open to interpretation by the performer and the audience and not just the creator. Sometimes when they dance it, he seems to be forcing Brandon away, other times, Brandon seems to be running away; they do it differently each time. Danny loves to talk about dance. It's his great passion, Etienne says, more than singing or acting, or even any man will ever be. Danny just smiled at that and neither agreed nor disagreed.

Today their performance was very powerful. Their energies were intense, maybe because the benefit was so close, maybe because this was the dress rehearsal and they were doing it without breaks, maybe because Etienne was watching so intently and they wanted to impress him. Watching Danny slide Brandon down his body until they were molded together, it was impossible to believe they weren't great lovers in real life. They were so graceful and beautiful, it was hard to conceive of anything more perfect than these two male forms moving together so sensuously. Brandon was all elegance and light movement, but every bit as male as Danny, who was darkly powerful and forceful in his movements. Danny did all the lifting. They both did leaps, but Danny seemed to be the leader, who showed the way, and guided the other man in how to do this wonderful thing by sending him soaring up, enabling him to go higher than he could on his own, and then seeing him safely back to the ground again, often catching him in his arms.

Then it happened. The dance called for Danny to do this high, long leap across the stage, followed by Brandon jumping up and being caught by him, and then him lifting Brandon over his head, while he pivoted on one leg, the other stretched out behind him, and Brandon held above him in an outstretched position, completely supported by Danny's arms. Danny was almost through his turn when he went down, crying out a warning as his leg buckled.

"Fuck, Brandon, look out!" Even as he was going down, Danny used his powerful arm muscles to lower Brandon carefully against his chest, twisting his body so that he took the brunt of the fall on his back and Brandon landed on top of him. As soon as the blond rolled off of him, Danny's hands clutched his upper right leg, his face twisted in pain.

"Shit, Danny, what is it?" Brandon kneeled next to him and tried to support Danny's shoulders.

I turned off the music and ran forward.

Etienne beat me onto the stage, leaping up with those long legs of his, chattering away in French.

[Muscle cramp, Danny? Let me help you, move your hands, come on now, my child, try to calm yourself, you can do it, we've dealt with these before, let me hold it, I will fix it as I always did for you."]

["Fuck it, Etienne, it hurts. I can't calm down. Please, hurry, make it stop. I can't believe I did this. God, Etienne, help me, I forgot how bad these are...] Are you okay, Brandon? I'm so sorry, you warned me, if I hurt you I'll never forgive myself, God this hurts...." Danny was taking deep breaths and pressing his hands down on his leg, not letting his tall friend help him. He kept switching back and forth between French and English as he continued to bitch and apologize. I wasn't sure what the fuss was about over a muscle cramp but both Etienne and Brandon looked serious.

Brandon got behind Danny and supported his head and upper body against his chest as Etienne forced him to straighten out his leg. Brandon bent down and spoke sharply in his ear.

"You stupid shit, I'm fine. Let him straighten your leg and massage out that cramp so the muscle doesn't get injured. Are you hurt anywhere else? Come on, breathe. Hunter, stop gawking and go get him some water."

I ran and got both Danny and Brandon some water. I grabbed some towels and sweatshirts too. The club was air conditioned and as soon as they stopped dancing they tended to get chilly. When I got back a few seconds later, Etienne had yanked down Danny's tights and was brutally massaging the quad muscle in his right leg as Danny leaned back heavily against Brandon's chest.

"Thanks, just throw the sweatshirt over my shoulders for now, Hunter, Danny is warm enough for the moment with me holding him, I think. He feels it at least. I'll tell you when to cover him. Hold some water up to his lips, though, please and help him drink. Then after that, go find him some leg warmers and put them on his calves, last thing we need is for him to get a cramp in his lower legs too. So far it seems he was lucky, he didn't sprain anything in the fall."

Brandon spoke coolly enough but I noticed he was breathing a little heavily. I wasn't sure if it was due to the exertion of his dancing or from holding Danny up. As I held the water bottle up to Danny's lips and he sipped from it, I had the same close-up view that Brandon had. It was enough to make anyone hyperventilate.

Danny's legs were spread wide as Etienne kneeled between his knees and the Frenchman's long fingers kneaded his bare thigh. Brandon was watching mesmerized as Etienne continued to stroke and press the hard, damp flesh that continued to ripple visibly in the painful spasm. Since Danny was now covered only by the cotton jock strap, you could see the dark, sweat dampened curls of hair peeking out from the edges where the material of the jock stretched up to cover his dick and balls. Even so, his cock was clearly outlined against the thin material and as Etienne continued his stroking, increasing the length of the massage, deepening the pressure and slowing the pace, you could see it responding. I know mine was, and I had no doubt Brandon's was as well. A damp spot appeared where the head of his dick strained against the material.

The Frenchman was keeping up a steady stream of conversation, talking to Danny in that sexy voice of his. Damn, I wish I'd studied French more in high school. I wondered if Brandon understood it, but his face revealed nothing other than a healthy lust. Even that was rather unusual for him; I'd seen him getting his own dick sucked and show absolutely no emotion, but watching the dark haired dancer get his leg massaged was making Brandon lose that cool facade. Everyone seemed to be mesmerized by the moment, not least of all was Etienne. His face was flushed and his eyes glazed as his voice got lower and his breathing harsher. Whatever he was saying in French, it didn't seem to be a discussion of proper oxygenation to large muscle groups. Actually, the one least in thrall was most definitely the almost naked guy being massaged, biting his lip to keep from crying out in pain. The rest of us were the perverts.

"Hey Hunter, you still here?" Danny whispered, his deep voice throbbing, his eyes closed.

"Yeah, Danny, you need something?" I cleared my throat. Maybe he needed more water. I realized I'd just been holding it for some minutes now like a zombie. A warped, gay zombie, staring at Danny's crotch.

Those dark, wet curls.

"If he starts to blow me, that isn't part of the treatment for my leg and I want you to pour the water on his head, okay?"

Etienne laughed. Brandon started, as though broken out of a trance. Danny kept his eyes closed. I wanted to ask which one he meant, but thought it better just to agree. Danny may not have realized that Brandon was lusting after him too, but knowing him, he probably did. He may not have minded it much, however, given that he just practically dropped the guy. Danny was a big believer in pay-backs.

"I think you are feeling better, yes?" Etienne sat back on his haunches and smiled.

"Yes, thank you. Though I'm afraid we may have to hold off finishing this rehearsal for a little while, a half hour or so."

"We're holding off for the rest of the day," Brandon said firmly.

Danny shifted a little bit, until he was sitting, basically naked, in Brandon's lap, and he looked up at him with the old puppy dog eyes. Though with green, mischievous eyes, he looked more like a playful kitten than an innocent puppy. He really was shameless at times, I thought with a grin. Brandon raised an eyebrow; he wasn't the type to be fooled by that type of ploy, which Danny knew, and his own half grin acknowledged as much. But he gave it a shot anyway.

"I'm really sorry, Brandon, I should have stretched more, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't trust me, I've never dropped a partner in fifteen years! I won't do it again, I promise." He put his hand on Brandon's chest coaxingly. Brandon sucked in his bottom lip, looking like a mini-Kinney. That is, if Brian were only half as gorgeous as he is, although I will admit, Danny must have done something with Brandon's hair, it looked much less greasy these days. I think he bought him new shampoo or something. The formerly greasy blond covered Danny's hand with his. Etienne was frowning, but I was the only one who caught it as the other two were looking into each other's eyes. This could prove interesting. Brian really should hurry back from New York. Brandon leaned his face down close to Danny's, so that their lips were almost touching and spoke in a really sincere sounding voice as opposed to his usual bored tone.

"I'm not worried for my sake, Danny, but for yours. You're over doing it. You need to rest your legs. I love this dance and I don't want you to get injured so that we can't perform it. I'm only a background singer but this dance and the handful of others we do are my big numbers so I need you with healthy legs. You can still sing with a broken ankle. I can't dance this with anyone else but you. So, tempting as you look right now, and I suspect you know exactly how tempting that is, we both know you aren't offering anything but a dance, so please, go home, rest, and massage those legs some more. And get some potassium in you, muscle cramps like this mean you're probably not getting enough potassium and magnesium. You know that. Do it for my sake, if you won't do it for you."

Brandon actually gave Danny one of his rare smiles which Danny returned with a genuine, double-dimpled one of his own, and a close hug.

"Okay, since you put it that way, thanks. We'll do this again tomorrow."

"I have some special cream that you should use tonight to make sure you don't suffer any muscle damage, Danny. That was a very bad cramp. You know back in the old days when you had a problem with them, they came in clusters once they started. I will have my masseuse bring it by your townhouse so I can apply it, and also some special vitamins and energy drinks for you. I also am willing to bet you are not getting enough nutrition, you don't eat enough. In the old days, that is when you always got this problem. I will speak to Emmett about it." Etienne still had his hand possessively on Danny's thigh.

Danny rolled his eyes.

"I don't think that's necessary, Etienne, though I appreciate the thought. Em can help me with any massage I need, and I will be sure to take my vitamins and all. Now stop babying me, it was just a cramp. Brandon is the only one who has the right to be upset as I almost injured him and if he's over it, I think we can all stop making a big deal about it, and I can get dressed so you can all stop leering at me."

The speech would have worked much better if, when Danny stood up to put on his sweats, his leg didn't start cramping again and almost send him tumbling to the ground. He quickly grabbed for Brandon's shoulder and held on, so as not to put any weight on his afflicted leg. His face was pale under its tan as Etienne, to his credit without a word of "I told you so," picked him up and carried him to the shower. After several more minutes of massage while under the hot water, the muscle finally relaxed. Danny didn't put up any more argument as Etienne carried him out to his limo and took him home. I got a text message from him a few minutes after he left, though, which I showed to Brandon.

"Don't leave me to him, plz U have to save me. Sacrifice B if nec. U can show B this msg."

Brandon laughed. "So Danny is willing to sacrifice me to his big, bad former boyfriend, in order to stay faithful to Kinney, who is currently chasing after his former boyfriend in New York. It's a strange world, Hunter. Shall we do it?"

"Of course we'll do it, we can't let Danny down!" I was indignant.

"I like Danny a lot, Hunter. I know you do, too. So ask yourself this, is he really better off with Kinney, who leaves him alone to go take care of that Taylor twit, knowing that Danny is working himself into the ground at Kinnetik and for this benefit, or with Lane, who worships the ground he walks on and can help him to the kind of international career he deserves with his talent?"

I stared at Brandon. He met my look evenly, impassively. There was something wrong with his reasoning, but I couldn't think of what it was right away. The hustler in me said Danny should go with Lane, the better mark. He was even a nice guy who seemed to really care for Danny. But Brian was a great guy, a one in a million guy. Not everyone realized that there was more to him than his stud of Liberty reputation, but Danny did. I did. Yet, Brandon hadn't really attacked Brian, so a defense of Brian wasn't what was needed. He had questioned Brian's rightness for Danny, and whether he appreciated and cared for Danny as Danny deserved, and in all honestly, that was in doubt. According to the gossip, which even Brandon had heard, Brian was up in New York checking on blondie because he took some E at a club and didn't feel so good. For fuck's sake. Big surprise. How he managed to wipe his ass without Brian around to remind him was the surprise to me. The end result was, Brian wasn't here when Danny needed him. Fuck, Brandon had a point. I knew there was a flaw in his reasoning because of course Brian was better for Danny than this Frenchman but damned if I could think of what it was.

It didn't matter though. Bottom line was, I wasn't going to ignore Danny's call for help, or rather, his text message for help. Maybe that was the answer. I gave Brandon my best imitation of the Kinney glare.

"We go because Danny doesn't want Etienne and he should know better than anyone who he wants. And he must be feeling too tired to fight the guy off to ask for help so if you won't go, I guess I have to do it myself. We're not doing it for Brian, we're doing it for Danny, who doesn't like asking for favors and he never does without paying them back, you know that about him. So if he's asking for this favor, we're got to help him. He'd never turn either of us down, you know that."

Brandon looked at me for a minute then shrugged.

"Okay, as long as that's the reason. I'd hate to be doing Kinney a favor. And I would love to have Danny in my debt. After you, brat. I'll even let you drive. But let me go home first and change."

Wow. Brandon was turning human.

*************************************************

(Setting: Danny's townhouse; POV/Danny)

"Em, I'll be okay. Yeah, it's just a muscle cramp. Etienne is taking me home and Hunter and Brandon are coming over later to check on me. You do your party tonight. Someone will feed me. It's not like I can't walk, I just need to rest it as the muscle is strained....Yeah, I'll take it easy, promise. I'll call Jamie and have him take a look at it if it hurts more than it should. Etienne has some fancy masseuse coming to grope me. Saves me having to let him do it any more. He enjoys it too much."

I shot him a look but he just gave me an amused one back, although he raised an eyebrow when he overheard me tell Em that Hunter and Brandon were coming over. Gotcha, Etienne, so much for any big seduction scene you may have been planning. I listened to more of Em's obsessing over whether I could wipe my ass without help. I had no doubt Etienne would be happy to do that too, should I be unable to do the job adequately, but why put ideas in his head? Besides, Hunter should get some of the fun, I thought with an inward grin. Poor kid, I thought he was going to come in his pants today. Between Brandon's cock pressing into the small of my back and Hunter standing there with his mouth hanging open., along with the antics of my dear ex-lover and his lingering massage, which managed to creep ever higher, until his knuckles were brushing against my balls with every other stroke, I felt like I was in a porn film and the gang bang scene was about to be shot. I got off the phone.

["You invited the other two to come join us?"] Etienne reached over and stroked my leg slowly over my sweat pants. I leaned back against his shoulder. He really did have the nicest hands, big and strong.

["Hmm mmm. I thought it would be nice to have the company tonight. Briana is with my sister and we never did get a chance to finish going over the order for the numbers in the second third, much less the last third of the benefit. That feels good, Etienne, keep doing that."]

[I thought you were going to rest. Eli will give you a massage and then I will feed you dinner, just the two of us, as in the old days, wouldn't that be nice?"] He spoke low, whispering into my ear. His voice was great too. Even knowing his tricks didn't make me completely immune to them.

["The two of us and Eli, you mean?"] I peeked up at him and couldn't help laughing at the look of frustration on his face. Poor Etienne. It would serve him right if I did go back to him, and became his kept man, thus depriving him of his favorite role, that of man suffering from unrequited love. He must get so much mileage out of the sob story of how I broke his heart. That wasn't quite fair to him, I knew, but it was easier to stay cynical than to take him too seriously. I didn't want to go backward, tempting as he made it seem at times, to go conquer Hollywood with him as my mentor. We'd already had a few talks about this. He wanted me to leave with him when the benefit was over, and accept a role in his next movie. Or he would do a play. Whatever I wanted. He was influential enough now to keep Edward at bay, he told me. He probably was. Edward was getting old and spreading his money into too many pies. Etienne was the flavor of the month among Hollywood's movers and shakers, who were delighted to show how liberal they were. They could thumb their noses twice over at the Republicans with him: Stephan Lane, gay and French. The Dixie Chicks would be asking him to father their next round of babies before you knew it..

Sometimes I wish it could be that easy for me, to just accept Etienne's offer, go off to Hollywood and become a big star. It was hard to shut my ears to his seductive whispers, especially after we finished singing a duet together and our voices harmonized so well, as they always had. He would catch my eye, and I would know he was thinking, see, it could be like this all the time. It was exciting to work with him, to have him watch me perform and make a suggestion on how to do something differently and I would try it and it would be perfect. No one knew what worked for me as a performer better than he did. And he was truly a great director.

What Etienne couldn't understand, though, was that, having turned down the chance to have a rich lover mentor me in exchange for getting me in his bed when I was a boy of eighteen , I certainly wasn't going to jump at the chance now that I was a man of twenty-eight. He was appalled at the idea that I could think he would be anything like Edward, and I know he wouldn't intend to be, but since I've waited this long to make it on my own, I could see no reason to give up now. Maybe I was stupid, and the only way anyone ever gets anywhere in show business is through connections, in which case I 'll stay a non-star. I never said I wasn't stubborn. Must be why I wasn't giving up on Brian yet, either. He'd called once, and it was some comfort that he didn't seem to be having much fun in New York. But I couldn't help wishing he didn't have this strong connection to his past still. It made me hesitant to make the final decision with Etienne and tell him no, I definitely wasn't leaving Pittsburgh. I just wasn't sure where things would end up with Brian, and how I would cope with losing him after having had this taste of being with him finally. I might be glad of an opportunity to escape, and worry about the ramifications with Etienne afterwards.

When it was good with Brian, it was perfect, and it seemed to be getting better all the time. Until something like this call from Miguel happens. Then I feel like the understudy. Still, sometimes the understudy is the one who steals the show. In fact, been there, done that. I closed my eyes and tried to direct my thoughts into a different channel, away from Etienne's hand on my leg and Brian in New York. Dancing. The songs for the final hour. Dancing some more.

["We're here, Danny. How does your leg feel, can you make it up the stairs?"] Etienne shook me gently. I had my eyes closed and he must have thought I fell asleep on him.

"I can carry him, Mr. Lane." The driver got out, and I saw it was the inestimable Eli. Damn, I must have fallen asleep, as we apparently went back to Etienne's hotel and the chauffeur changed places with the big masseuse.

I liked Eli. He was a former Green Beret, and had served in the first Gulf War and Afghanistan. He'd served under Luke for awhile, and when he retired and got his training as a physiatrist, I introduced him to Etienne who was plagued with back problems after too many years of rough play. They hit it off great. Eli was almost as tall as Luke had been, around 6'7" or so, but was far burlier, probably about 325 pounds of muscle. He looked like a fullback. His voice was a basso profundo and I loved to hear him talk, though so far he wouldn't sing for me. He told me "Eli only sings when he's coming, so spread those cheeks if you want to hear my voice raise in song, Mr. O'Keefe." Which, given the size of the man, even if I were willing to bottom for anyone but Brian, I wasn't about to let that cock near my ass, song or no song. But his back rubs were almost enough to bring on an orgasm.

"I can walk, Eli," I grumbled, more for form's sake than anything else. In truth, my leg was aching still and I wasn't looking forward to all those steps to get to my front door.

"Sure you can, Mr. O' Keefe, but I get paid extra for heavy labor, and you wouldn't begrudge Eli the chance to earn a little folding money, now would you? Me being a veteran and all that, of two wars?"

I laughed and put my arms up to be carried, much like Briana does. It took me back to the days when I was small and Matt, Mark and Luke used to carry me around all the time. I was always getting hurt playing soccer with the big boys, spraining something or other. John used to complain that I would never learn to walk if they didn't stop spoiling me. Funny, I can't remember ever being carried around by my dad, it was always the older boys who acted as surrogate fathers to me, especially Matt and Luke. The familiar ache at the thought of Luke tugged at my chest. I missed him in a way that I never missed my father, whom I barely knew and had little in common with. Luke was away a good bit when I was growing up, but when he was home, he spent most of his time with me. Never having had his own children, he treated me like the son he never had. Matt and Mark had their own boys eventually but I was Luke's boy. Dad wanted him to teach me how to defend myself but he went far beyond that, showing me how to fight dirty and what to do if out-numbered in a fight, how to shoot a gun and how to wield a knife, all sorts of things Matt and Mark would never have approved of him teaching me. The main thing he never taught me for survival was how to deal with losing people you love.

I brushed at my eyes quickly as Eli sat me down on the sofa.

"Is your leg paining you Danny? Do you want me to try to reach Jamie to get you pain medication?" Etienne was looking at me with concern but Eli shot me a knowing look.

"He's fine, he just needs a break, Mr. Lane, if you don't mind my saying so. Why don't you go make phone calls and answer those messages I gave you? I'll get my massage table set up and give Mr. O'Keefe a full body massage, and take special care of that quad muscle. We'll get the oxygen flowing so good he won't have any more cramps to worry him before this benefit is over."

Eli chased Etienne into the music room, but then, at my suggestion, we set up in the dance studio so I could use the Jacuzzi afterward. The soothing lull of the big man's deep voice, talking about the World Cup games, and the relaxing rhythm of the massage soon had me drifting off to sleep again. Before I did, I wanted to get something cleared up. I forced myself to expend the energy to talk, which was more difficult that you'd think. He was that good at his job.

"Eli?"

""Yes, Mr. O'Keefe?"

"Can't you call me Danny anymore?"

"I could, Mr. O'Keefe, but Mr. Lane prefers that I don't."

"That's stupid. I would prefer it if you would, unless it would cause you problems. I'll tell him it makes me unhappy to be called Mr. O'Keefe by you."

"That should take care of it then, as I think he likes to make you happy." The deep voice had a chuckle in it.

"Would you do me another favor?"

"You ready to bend over for me so I'll sing for you, Danny?"

I laughed. "Not in this lifetime, big guy, but if all we need is to get you coming, you could always spread your cheeks for me and I could make you sing."

I got a full belly laugh then. "I thought you wanted to hear me sing those low notes you like, Danny, not my falsetto."

"Well then, maybe I'll pass on the singing for today. But, what I wanted to ask was, don't leave me alone with Etienne, Eli. My friends should be here soon. It's just that, well, I'm getting really sleepy and..."

"And you don't want any company crawling into bed with you that you didn't invite?"

I hesitated. It sounded bad, put baldly like that, but yeah, that was it in a nutshell. This was Etienne's employee, and it wasn't like I thought Etienne would take advantage of me, not quite. Part of the problem was, I was feeling kind of nostalgic too, for the old days, and could end up making a decision in a moment of weakness that I would regret. I didn't want to lead Etienne on, nor did I want Brian to think that he had to worry about me leaving him for my old lover. Even if he'd left you for his, that treacherous voice in my head asked? Of course, it asked the question in French, a good clue that the voice in my head had been listening to Aida or Etienne, or both, too much lately.

"It's not that, it's just that...." I couldn't think of any other explanation to give.

"No problem, Danny, and no need to explain. Anything for Major Luke's little brother. I'll be here awhile, help you get settled in and then find ways to keep myself busy until your friends get here, okay?"

I thanked him, then relaxed and gave in to the pleasure of his big hands working my muscles. Maybe Brandon would take Etienne off my hands, that should keep them both happily occupied for the evening. Though I was beginning to think Brandon was becoming drawn to my little protégé, which would certainly be an interesting turn of events. The self absorbed, looking out for number one Brandon, actually beginning to care for someone, and someone with all of Hunter's baggage, would be nothing short of a miracle. I couldn't help smiling deviously as I tried to think of ways to foster that particular miracle.

*************************************************

(Later that night; POV/Danny)

I heard my bedroom door open. I kept my eyes closed and breathing even. Damn, I really wasn't in the mood for a scene with Etienne. I'd thought that once Emmett came home, he would go back to his hotel himself. He had outstayed Brandon and Hunter, who had to be taken home when Michael called and demanded his return. Brandon was so apologetic, but there really wasn't anything he could do and at that point Emmett was due home any minute so I figured I was safe from a big seduction. Indeed, Brandon and Hunter met up with Em out in the parking lot. After fussing over me for awhile, I made a big deal out of how tired I was and went to bed, with Em playing guard dog. He must have offered up the spare room to Etienne on the basis that it was too late to call for the limo to come back.

Now the question was whether to pretend to be asleep or to turn the light on before he got into bed with me. There were rustling noises, like someone getting undressed. Fuck.

I felt the bed give under the weight of someone getting in. Warm lips pressed against my neck and breathing in the familiar scent, I relaxed. I rolled over and opened my arms to welcome the intruder. His naked body pressed down against me as lips closed down on my neck. Yes, this was a good way to be woken up after all.

"When did you get back? I would have gone to get you at the airport." I spread my legs to make room for him between them and he moved into the space. I raised my knees up around his waist as he rested on the elbows he placed on either side of my chest. Our cocks rubbed together as I moved just that little bit, which caused Brian to give me one of his slow smiles. God, he was so beautiful. The moonlight shining in through my bedroom window was just enough to see him by.

"It was no problem to take a cab. I dropped Daphne off at your brother's place and came directly here. He told me about your leg giving you problems and I thought maybe you could use a little more TLC... tonguing," he flicked his against my nipples, "licking," he moved down with that talented tongue to my navel, "and..." he paused in his ministrations to think for a moment, "cocksucking," he concluded triumphantly, before swallowing my entire length.

"Oh fuck, Brian," I clutched at his hair. I usually managed more control than this but he took me by surprise and was merciless. His hands squeezed my nipples hard as he deep throated my dick, his tongue moving along the underside, stroking it firmly. Every so often his teeth lightly grazed along the top, his lips catching the head and applying just the right amount of pressure as he almost let me slip out before taking me deep in again. It was so wet, so warm, no one sucked cock like he did. He played with my slit, tonguing it until the precum poured out and I thought I would go crazy. He must have had lube handy because suddenly fingers were at my hole, and I felt him stroking, teasing as he continued to suck. The sensations were almost too much. I bucked my hips up to get him better access to my ass.

I felt a pillow pushed under me as two fingers pushed inside.

"Oh fuck. Yeah, Brian, fuck me, now." I looked down at the beautiful hazel eyes, wondering for an insecure moment what was behind this urgency, but I saw no shadows, only my own reflection there. I smiled, and was relieved to see the smile returned without hesitation. Remembering how he liked the mirrors when we fucked on the piano at Babylon, I whispered for him to wait a second. He looked at me curiously as I leaned over and hit the buttons on the remote to expose the mirrored wall of my hidden closet, and set the lighting to dim. Brian's eyes sparkled at the sight of the two of us in bed together, me sprawled out with him between my legs, his fingers buried in my ass.

I pulled away for a moment and got up on my knees so I could lean against the headboard, resting my arms on it, with a full side view of the mirror. Brian lined up behind me, grabbing a condom from the table and putting it on as I watched in the mirror.

"I'll turn you into an exhibitionist yet," he whispered.

"I've always been an exhibitionist, I'm a professional one," I told him in a husky voice, "I just save the sex for you."

He looked thoughtful at that comment for a long moment. Then he nodded.

"I think I like that. You look hot in my arms, with my cock ready to fuck you. I've been thinking about this for the past ten hours. But the reality is even better than I dreamed of, it looks better, feels better, smells better, I missed you and I was barely gone for twenty four hours."

I smiled and pressed back against him as I turned my head and captured his mouth with mine. He entered me slowly, just barely penetrating me, and I watched, fascinated, as his cock disappeared between my ass cheeks, his hands holding them slightly spread. I gasped a little as he first went in, still not used to that feeling, no matter how many times I'd felt it, but the pain left quickly as Brian moved his hands around, one on my chest and one on my cock. I leaned my head back against his chest, losing myself in the rhythm as he moved in and out. We both watched fascinated by the sight of us fucking. Both the dancer and the musician in me responded to the beauty and rhythm of the sight, of the cock and the hand moving in their own performance art, the sounds of our breathing, grunts and moans blending. This was what I was trying to duplicate in my dance of light and dark with Brandon, this power and elegance. Fucking. Making love. The beauty of two male bodies moving together.

I felt myself bending backward, the force of my orgasm pressing me back against Brian. His strong arms held me up and he rained kisses on my neck, my jaw, my lips. Neither of us was shaved and the rough texture of our beards added to the kisses. I leaned forward against the wall and watched as he finished his own orgasm with a few more forceful strokes, holding my hips tight as he drove into me.

It took us several minutes to come down from that. I was lazy and just grabbed a t shirt from the chair to wipe my come off the wall and headboard then tossed it in the hamper. Brian got up and threw out the condom, then grabbed us both a water from the small wetbar I'd installed in my bedroom.

I took the one he handed me with a smile of thanks and stretched out luxuriously. What a nice way to wake up.

"So, you want to tell me about your trip? How did it go?"

I really didn't want to discuss it now and ruin my afterglow but it would hang over me like the fucking sword of Damocles if I didn't, so what the hell. At least we were both in a good mood now.

Brian leaned back.

"Well, to answer the first question, not really, not without something a hell of a lot stronger than water, but I will, as you deserve to know." Shit, I thought, that didn't sound good. Maybe I needed something stronger. He must have read my mind because he grabbed my hand and pulled me over to him.

"I didn't mean it like that. You deserve to know because you've been right all along, and if you weren't such a fucking saint, you'd be saying I told you so all over the place. But, don't. Please. Justin is in up to his eyeballs with this Simon asshole and it turns out that Miguel is a perfectly nice person, the kind of guy I thought Justin would become involved with when he went up to New York, the right age, a law student, hard working, a good homosexual, you know? Safe sex, no bad drug habits, but enough of an edge not to be boring. Instead, he's living in the lap of luxury, falling for this line of bullshit, and thinks he's fucking making it on his own. It's like someone dropped him on his head. Maybe it's some kind of delayed brain damage from the bashing, I don't know, but he is acting like an ass and letting this guy run his life for him. He wouldn't ever let me do that. And the worst of it is, he's depressed as shit and doesn't even realize it. His head is so far up his ass he doesn't even know which way is up."

I let him get all this out of his system. He paused for a while, drinking his water and staring ahead, playing with my hair. I finally asked him a question to get him talking again.

"What exactly happened though? I can figure out that he survived the big drug scare. So, you went to the hotel, let him get a good night's sleep, what was left of it. How did you get him back to Simon's? Was there a problem?"

"No real problem. There were a bunch of messages from him on Justin's phone. While he was sleeping, I answered one and just said my name. Simon played it cool, asked for Justin. I said he was with me, that I was in town with Daphne and we treated Justin to a surprise visit and would return him when we were done. I kind of acted grumpy, like why the hell was he calling in the middle of the night. He in turn acted all worried because Justin hadn't told him he wouldn't be back, and said he was merely concerned something had happened. Quite frankly, that was plausible. When he was living with me, if he was going to stay at Daphne's all night, he was supposed to let me know."

"Hmm, sure. That's Edward all right. A real mother hen."

Brian laughed.

"Yeah, well, he tried to give that impression at least. It was Justin who kind of ruined it. He acted guilty as shit. At first when he woke up, he wanted to....well, he was fine around me at first and seemed to think I was there just to visit him."

Wanted to fuck you, I filled in the blank that Brian left out. But it seemed that Brian didn't oblige so his former boytoy must have been a little worried that he'd burned both bridges.

"But then he seemed to realize what had happened and even though Daphne and I tried to get him to tell us what things were like, and why he so lost control as to take drugs in a club like that, which, despite what you might think, isn't like him."

Brian shot me a look and paused in his recital of the story. I must have made a skeptical noise or something. I tried to look innocent and non-judgmental; being an actor I can pull this off no matter how untrue it is so Brian, after a searching look, seemed satisfied and went on.

"He refused to admit that he was depressed or even that he had acted recklessly. He claimed he was just having a little fun and had simply had a bad reaction. He blamed Miguel for calling us and said he never was all that bad."

"I heard him in the background on the phone...he was bad, Brian. Jamie was close to calling the ambulance himself."

"I believe you. He wasn't all that normal even by the time we got there. His friend Miguel was a fucking saint to put up with him. By the way, thank you, and thank Jamie me, for helping out like you did. He told us how you helped him through the night with your calls and support. That really was above and beyond for both of you."

I shrugged. The last thing Brian needed to cope with was the guilt of a dead, or brain damaged, "almost husband." It was the last thing I needed for him to have, too, come to think of it. I knew that if anything happened to Justin, Brian would be convinced it was his fault.

"So what happened next?"

"So, we took him back to his crypt keeper, as Daphne calls him. Simon was all polite concern, reprimanding Justin gently for not calling to say he wasn't coming back from what was supposedly a trip out to the movies with some girl, and then he invited us to lunch, which we just as politely declined. Justin wanted to show us some of his work but Simon had some excuse why that wasn't a good idea, something about keeping word quiet until his show in the fall. Justin didn't argue with him, even though it's his fucking art and you'd think he could show it to anyone he wanted to.. After a little more chat, we left, with Justin giving me this arm's length, straight guy hug goodbye after he'd been trying to fuck me half the night. I had to drag Daphne away, I wasn't sure if she was going to rip Simon apart or fall apart in tears at Justin's feet. Simon did mention coming to the benefit, so you can look forward to seeing him. I hope that won't bother you? I couldn't think of anyway to say he wasn't welcome." Bri looked at me concerned.

"I kind of thought he might. He's shown up every so often at major events when I perform, so all I can do here is try to get as much money as possible from him for any songs he wants, and not let him catch me alone. My cousins are already planning on giving me a bodyguard that night. I suspect he will be trying to show me he is happy with Justin, which he is welcome to do, as long as that doesn't upset you. This whole thing with him and Justin and you is still pretty weird, if you ask me, and just the type of thing he loves. Though he would hate the idea of you being with me, so maybe we'd better get you protection too, how did he seem about Justin spending the night with you?"

"As I said, Justin acted like we were platonic friends in front of the guy and I was too fucking tired to push it. Daphne was the one who was most upset. After returning to the hotel for some more sleep, I sent her off on a therapeutic shopping trip at Saks while I met up with Miguel so I could get the scoop on what conditions are really like up there for Justin. He's in a golden cage, according to Miguel, and anyone who helps him does so at a risk. By the way, you're like a legend to the fags up there. The one who got away with his dignity and his ass intact."

I leaned back against Brian's chest, grinning to myself. That's me, the one man ass. How much of an ass I was willing to be for Brian was the question, of course, although he was beginning to sound as though he was seeing the light. Or was that just wishful thinking on my part?

"Nice to know I'm known for something somewhere. Etienne may have his Oscars but I have my fame, too, such as it is. You know, it isn't so bad, Brian, if Justin can just accept the deal he's made and honor his end of it. Edward will let him go eventually, and I've never heard that he treated his former angels badly. They get their little golden parachutes, or whatever fucking color parachutes coordinate with their angel outfits. Justin's trouble is, he seems to want to break the rules, and fuck around on Edward. How the hell he thinks he can get away with taking the man's money and then not paying the price, I don't get it. If he doesn't like his golden cage, he never should have moved in. Did he think it came for free?"

Brian looked a little sheepish. "I know it seems stupid. But to some extent, he thinks exactly that, because I never made him pay his own way, and I let him break the rules and get away with it, so he may well think the rest of the world will treat him that way. I know he chose this route and I should just let him suffer through it and learn his lesson. If I thought it would just be this one year and no lasting harm done, I would. But the thing is, no one is going to take his art seriously, are they, when he's done his 'angel year?' Won't he just be seen as another joke in this pantheon of a rich man's whims? You might not believe it, but Justin does have talent, and he's throwing it away, along with any chance he may have had of making it."

It was hard drumming up sympathy for Justin. I had talent too and turning down Edward has cost me a lot more than one year in lost opportunities. But, I looked at Brian's worried face and sighed. I had all the sympathy in the world for the pain this was causing him. I just wished there was a way to make him see that he wasn't responsible for Justin Taylor's choices.

"Brian, he's what? Twenty two? Three? There isn't a lot he can do in the art world that can make or break him forever. He needs to paint and learn his craft, like in any art field. If he is somehow turning out great works of art this year, sure, people may not accept them in the short run because they'll say they were painted by Simon's boy whore, but in the long run, if they are good, people will believe in them. And the suffering in the meantime can only help him, especially since it's not like he'll be suffering in poverty. He'll be well set financially."

I ran my hand through my hair frustrated as I tried to explain to get my point across without offending Brian. "In all honesty, Bri, I have a hard time believing any artist is turning out anything all that great, much less masterpieces, at his age, working alone in a studio, without taking lessons even, or working with a master, and without putting in the years of blood, sweat and tears and living that goes into making a great artist. His type of art isn't like singing, you either hit the notes or you don't, but even then, you need to be trained how to sing properly. Pop singers come along easily enough but not opera singers, not the great singers. You need to be taught breath control, for example. I still take lessons in my fields, I'm always learning. It should be the same for him but instead, he is up there in this great art mecca and not taking advantage of it from what I can tell. An artist has to learn technique and methods and all sorts of stuff, hell, I haven't even a clue, but I do know that twenty some year old natural geniuses aren't popping out every decade. And his little bit of college wasn't enough to learn all there is to learn."

I thought I was getting through to Brian so I plowed on. "The thing with all forms of art is, so much of it is subjective. I can choreograph a dance and think it's wonderful and be the only one. And if I'm the only one to believe in it, so be it. It's mine. I've gotten to the point where I can live with that. Etienne is there with his movies. Everyone wants him now but he shopped around his 'Two on the Road' quite a bit before he got the money to get it made. He became an overnight success at thirty three, after fifteen years in the business. For me, one of the great things about not being someone's whore is, I never have to worry about an audience coming to see the performance of one of my dances only because Edward Simon paid for all the tickets. He does shit like that. When there is applause, it is because I earned it, not because some sugar daddy paid for it for me. For Etienne, the success of his movie was all the sweeter because of all the people who didn't believe in it. I have no doubt that when Justin has a show, Edward will make sure it's a big success. Justin may be fooled when all his art 'sells' but that won't make him a successful artist. And at some point, someone will tell him the truth, someone petty because up there, there's always someone spiteful around to drop that kind of news, and he'll be crushed. Then, if he's got balls, he'll go back to square one and do it the hard way. But that is a life lesson you can't learn for him, he has to learn it himself and the more you try to soften the blow or delay it or whatever it is you want to do or thing you should do, you just make it harder for him in the long run. Basically, you'd just be repeating the mistakes you made with him in the past."

Whew. I kept my eyes focused on Brian's chest, and the lovely muscles there, stroking my hand gently over his pecs. I'd said a lot and wasn't sure how he would take it.

Brian rolled over to look at me, sighing. He brushed my hair back and kissed me before gathering me in his arms. His voice was soft as he spoke.

"I still care a lot about him, Danny. I held him in my arms last night, and I kept thinking about that young boy from so many years ago, who trusted me completely to make his life safe. When did that change?"

"Hell Brian, even the songs tell you, little boys become men. Thank God for that, I say." I gave him a squeeze and he smiled down at me. I took that as a sign to continue. "He's a man now, or should be. If you want a boy, you have to start over all the time, like Edward with his angels, or you'd be doing him a disservice, keeping him stunted. You did the right thing when you sent him off; and I think you were willing to accept him as a man in your relationship with you, I believe that. The trouble is, he wasn't ready and liked being taken care of. So he's stuck in this in between place, pretending to be a man, but still a boy. That doesn't mean it's the right thing for you to go backward, but I'm not really the right person to advise you there." I laughed. "Though I sure have been giving a lot of advice, haven't I? Personally, I can't imagine wanting a boy instead of a man."

Brian looked at the two of us reflected in the mirror.

"Neither can I, Danny, neither can I." He moved his hand to my face and stroked my rough chin.

"You ready for round two, in the shower maybe?"

I grinned my answer as he pulled me up. Maybe the understudy was stepping into the lead at last.

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