Agoraphobia

Chapter 6

As we eat on Brian's clean floor, we chat- well, he talks more than I do because what the fuck do I have to talk about? My favorite episode of ‘The Simpson's'? Mostly, I ask him questions about himself, his life back in the Pitts (as he calls it) and his friends and family.

As I already know, he’s fascinating: snarky at times and bluntly honest- sometimes rudely so- but I have already come to expect that. And strangely, it doesn’t bother me. I can see what he means when he says his reputation's that he’s an asshole, but I can see through that. It's a facade. I don’t know how I can- I just met him. But I’m amazed at how shallow his friends must be if they don’t see through his 'assholeness'. He’s already shown me his deeper side – hell, within 2 minutes of knowing him he showed it to me. He’s got baggage, I can tell- and he’s built up walls that seem to have to do with expressing emotion- but he’s a gentle, generous soul deep down. Again, I saw that within the first minutes of meeting him. Maybe it's the agoraphobia connection, since his Mom's agoraphobic.

I sense I shouldn’t tell him any of these impressions I have or he’d kick me out of the apartment; or at least, take me back to mine and leave. So, I grin inside and keep my secrets that I’m onto him to myself.

I learn a lot about him as we eat lunch. He’s a successful ad exec who was transferred here to oversee the opening of a branch of the agency where he’s a partner in the Pitts. He’s had a best friend, ‘Mikey’ he calls him, since he was 14. He tells me that this friend of his hasn’t matured past his passion for comics and isn’t terribly bright, but he’s a sweet man if not a little too whiny and possessive at times.

He has a friend Emmett, too, who he says is an all-out campy, flouncy queen, whose typical wardrobe would include orange leather pants, a feather cuffed pink shirt and a dog collar. I laugh at his description.

“I think you’d like him, Sunshine. He’d bring you out of your shell in no time,” he adds. “He and I snark back and forth, but I actually respect and like the guy. It’s mutual, I think.”

”I’m sure it is, Brian,” I interject. “Two very out queers, albeit very differently out, would respect and like each other, I expect.”

He thinks about that. “Yeah, maybe. But again we verbally spar all the time.”

“In fun?”

“Not always. Anyway, there’s also Deb. She kind of took me under her wing when I was a kid- she’s Mikey’s mother and is very, very eccentric. She’s said she loves me like a son, but I know she also kind of resents me.”

“Resents you? Why?”

He pauses. “Well, when Mikey and I became good friends at 14, Michael kind of developed a crush on me that hasn’t let up over the years. I won’t fuck a friend, as much as I love him. I’m a slut, but I have my own moral code; and I won’t fuck him. Besides, he's not my type. Debbie thinks I’ve kept him from developing a real romantic attachment to another man; that he puts me ahead of any boyfriend he has.”

“Does he?”

“Fuck, Deb knows that better than me. If she says so, I guess she's right. I haven’t tried to drive away any of his boyfriends, although some of them have been arrogant, possessive losers who tried to keep Mikey away from his friends, from me- I’m his best friend, for fuck’s sake. It’s up to Michael who he hangs out with- overall, a ‘boyfriend’ shouldn’t control who you’re friends with. But I suppose I’m not guiltless. Debbie accuses me of leading Michael on.” He pauses. “I’m not an affectionate person by nature- not emotionally really," (I think otherwise, but I say nothing), "but physically I'm pretty affectionate; so I can see how he has interpreted kisses and hugs in ways that gave him hope that we’d be together. But I’ve always been clear with him about how I won’t fuck him. He’s just a little hard-headed.” He pauses again. “So, a few years ago, Deb came over to my loft and yelled at me (she does that a lot, and always calls me an asshole. It's like tradition or something.) It may seem like she hates me sometimes- maybe she does. But she was like a surrogate mother to me growing up; I think deep down, she may still love me.”

I’m starting to think, ‘Who wouldn’t?’ But I simply say that I’m sure she does.

“It was nice that she took me in as a kid. I love my birth mother, but it was strange for me as a young boy with her cooped up in the house unable to take me to a friend’s or school or anything. You know, as a kid, I didn’t understand agoraphobia and saw all the other mothers taking their children all over the place.”

I look down briefly. If I had a kid, he’d think I’m a freak. I push that out of my mind. “What about your Dad?”

Brian gets a look that goes from fear to anger before he relaxes his features into an unreadable mask. “Dad and I didn’t… he wasn’t a very good father, that’s all.”

I look at him, wondering at this mysterious information. I get the sense not to push it, though. But I think Brian’s father may have been the one who caused Brian to start building those walls he seems to have. “You said something a bit ago about Debbie going to your home to yell at you?” I prompt him, deciding it unwise to ask further about the father issue.

“Oh, yeah. She told me to get out of Michael’s life. To give him up so he could let go of me and move on. As I mentioned earlier, she resented- maybe still resents- me because in her opinion, as long as I was around, he’d never find a man he could fully love. I’d always come first. So, I did.”

I gasp a little at that. “What? Did what, Brian?”

“I pushed Mikey out of my life so he could be happy. I threw him a bash of a birthday party; it was huge. I put a lot of thought into it. I bought him an extremely expensive first edition comic book- Captain Astro, his favorite. My parting gift to him.

“It was a great party; but I’d invited a coworker of Michael’s. Mikey wasn’t out at work- and essentially, that outed him. He was furious. Betrayed. All the people close to Mikey- my pseudo friends, too, some of whom I’ve already told you about- they screamed at me one at a time, telling me what a fuck I was and left. The party was effectively over, and I was alone in the loft with a huge mess all over the place. Mikey, in his rage, didn’t take the gift I gave him.

"It was really hard to do- but he was free to love another man, his hatred for me now replacing whatever love he had for me before. So, I lost my best friend. And everyone else, too. But I was okay; I’ve always been a loner, really. I was okay being alone.”

I’m staring at Brian, a mixture of shock, sadness and ever growing affection for him running through me at the same time. How could he sacrifice himself like that? “How…how…?” I stammer.

“’How what, Sunshine? You know, this stuttering of yours can be endearing- and annoying…” he teases with a small smile. His mood has become subdued. He won't admit it, but I can tell that was obviously a very sad time in his life, so it’s understandable he’d be low-key all of a sudden.

“Nothing… I’m sorry. Go on,” I whisper.

“Sorry's bullshit," he mumbles. "Deb finally figured it out- why I’d done what I did. Dumb bitch; Deb should have known right away. I’d never purposefully hurt Michael that way, and I was and frankly, still am, surprised she thought I would. She later came over to the loft and essentially thanked me, told me to have a good life, and left.”

“She was just writing you out of *her* life, too? I thought she was like a mother to you- you were like a son to her since you were a boy.” I’m actually starting to see his little makeshift family in a darker light. That’s not how to treat someone you love- you don’t cut them out of your life. Unless it’s like what Brian did with his best friend- which he did *out* of love.

“Yeah. I guess so. But really, I understood,” he answers calmly.

“Brian, that’s awful! That’s outrageous!” I can’t believe I’m yelling in this man’s apartment, Thai food cartons spread on the floor in front of us. “That’s disgusting that she'd do that! Fuck, it's disgusting that she even asked you to take yourself out of your best friend's life to begin with!”

“Well, she had her real son to think about, Justin. As I said, I understood. I missed Mikey, but I understood and as I mentioned, I’ve always been kind of a loner anyway. And it was fairly easy to avoid the gang at Woody’s and Babylon— Woody's and Babylon are a bar and club on Liberty Avenue, the gay central spot in the Pitts. They’re always packed so it’s easy to get lost in a crowd, and I frequent the backroom at Babylon anyway and those guys don't go back there much.”

“Backroom?” I ask, clueless.

“There’s a backroom in Babylon where men fuck and suck- it’s typically anonymous fucking. Tricking.”

Oh. Wow. “Oh. Wow.”

“Shocking, eh?” He snickers. Then he pauses, watching my reaction. “Toldja I was a slut.”

“Whatever.” I shrug. “You already told me that you trick a lot. Who the fuck am I to judge you? You haven’t judged me- in fact, you've accepted me as I am, and I’m a freak.”

Brian grins. “I like that answer. Although, you aren’t a freak.”

I’m secretly kind of thrilled that pleased him. I get the feeling from the crap I’ve heard about his friends that he gets judged a *lot*. “Anyway, what happened then? Did everyone else cut you out of their lives, too?”

“Yeah. I was the Liberty Avenue pariah for awhile. Well, with Mikey’s and my friends. We just kind of avoided each other. It was funny- I was sorta treated the way Michael had been treated in high school- you know, when a clique basically shuts the odd man out, shoots him dirty looks, spreads nasty rumors about him. I became that odd man out. I actually found it amusing that a bunch of so-called adults would act like that— what made it even more amusing was that there really wasn’t a nasty rumor they could say about me that would bother me. I’ve always been sort of a gossip magnet, the Stud of Liberty Avenue who everyone loves to hate.” He’s chuckling – genuinely. If that had been *me* that people were spreading nasty rumors about, I would have been mortified. Well, it *has* been me- and look at me now. I'm a fucking hermit.

But Brian’s different than me; he's self assured, independent, and he doesn’t care what people think of him. For the most part. Except for his 'stud status', I imagine; which I doubt anyone would or could ever question. I mean, deep down, I think he cares, but this all sounds too childish for him to take seriously.

I snicker. “You not caring what they said or did must have infuriated them…”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Again, I didn’t care, really. I just didn't play highschool games in highschool, and I wasn't about to start.”

Again, part of me deep down doesn’t fully believe that it didn’t bother him at all- I mean I don't think he cared about the rumors and clique-y crap. But that they'd believe he'd do that as an act of pure malice towards Michael must have stung a little. “But, I thought you said you’re still best friends with Michael. I mean, the people you’ve described sound like they’re all still current friends of yours.” For better or worse, I think to myself. “What happened to change things back?”

He grins at me. “This shit really fascinates you, doesn’t it? It’s boring, Justin.”

“I told you, Brian- my life is watching a bunch of re-runs and surfing the internet. Your life *is* fascinating to me!”

“I saw a lot of sketches on the walls in your place- that’s pretty fucking interesting. Lindsay, one of two munchers in my life, would love your stuff- and she’s an art teacher.”

I blush a little.

“And you’ve rendered lots of naked men, I saw- very, very nice.”

Now I blush a lot and he laughs a little at my chagrin.

“They’re really good, Justin. *Especially* the naked men,” he winks.

“Brian, thanks- that means a lot to me. More than anything,” I mutter shyly, still blushing.

“Well, I imagine you just don’t know how good you are because you don’t have anyone to give you feedback.”

“Fuck, Brian- I must be red as a baboon’s ass right now,” I admit. And hard- well, I’ve been hard since I first saw him through the peephole yesterday. Right now, I'm as hard as ever. Thankfully, I still have my terry cloth robe on and it’s thick- it can cover me. I hope.

“Sunshine, don’t talk about asses…” he says slyly, winking at me again.

Okay, now I’m *redder* than a baboon’s ass. And I’m even harder than before- my cock could cut glass right now. I shut up.

Brian watches me a few moments, a smirk on his face. Then: “Okay, now, let's get this boring tale that you like so much over with. You asked why I'm friends with all of them again. Apparently, after a few weeks, Debbie was talking to Emmett, saying how pleased she was that Michael was ‘free to truly love Dr. Dave now that Brian was out of the picture’. Dr. Dave was Michael’s boyfriend at the time. She kind of went on and on about it, like she was pleased that Mikey was hurt by his best friend and Michael had finally written him (me) out of his life. Mikey’s best friend who didn't believe in love, boyfriends or fucking the same guy twice.

“Anyway, as Emmett was listening to Deb’s joy at Michael’s now-hopeful future in finding true love with me gone, he put two and two together and realized what was going on- that Debbie was behind the whole disastrous situation.

"Emmett being Emmett, he was outraged at Deb- sorta like you sounded a second ago, Sunshine,” he grins. “Emm has a very fair-minded, even way of seeing the world, even if it is colored in hot pinks and sparkles. He pulled the rest of the gang together, including Michael, and told them his suspicions about why I did what I did. I had no clue this was going on. I had thrown myself into my work, and drank and tricked a lot during that time. Not that that’s unusual for me at anytime, but it was a little more extreme than usual. I was just keeping clear of everyone.”

“Pain management?”

He looks at me strangely. “That’s what people called it. But not me. I called and still would call it, ‘working, drinking and tricking a little more extremely than usual.’”

I laugh. Of course he would.

“So, anyway, I got home from work one day and found everyone outside my loft door, waiting for me. I thought they were going to jump me or something, but they didn’t look angry like they had when leaving the party I threw for Mikey. They looked fucking apologetic.”

“Was Debbie there?” I’m still seething about that woman, but Brian seems to be fond of her. Forgiving guy.

“No. She was kind of in the doghouse- the one I had just been in for awhile. Mikey was furious with her; and needless to say, eagerly and happily took back the first edition comic I’d bought him as his birthday/parting gift. He hugged me, saying he should have seen through my little scheme (that’s what he fucking called it. ‘My little scheme’, my ass! It was brilliant!) And he said Tracy, the coworker I'd invited to the party, couldn’t care less that he was gay. In fact, she was insulted that he didn’t trust her enough to tell her himself. That he thought so little of her that he’d think she’d care one way or the other.

“I guess Mikey had a lot coworkers who were homophobic pricks and never failed to regale each other with fag jokes. So, it was understandable that Michael didn’t trust to out himself to Tracy, his only friend there. She forgave him. I came to really like Tracy, actually. Michael told me of an incident when she was going into the store they worked at and a group of workers were on a smoke break outside listening to this bitch Martie regale them with fag jokes. She called them on it, saying how offensive it was and how it wasn’t any more appropriate telling those than racist jokes and the like. That takes guts to do: being the only one in a crowd to protest a wrong, especially if the crowd is full of your coworkers. I respected her for that. Still do.”

I nod, never having been in that situation. I couldn’t imagine doing it, but I obviously don’t ever find myself in a crowd, so it’s moot. “How did you ever forgive Deb?”

“As I said, Deb was just looking out for her only son. I didn’t have to forgive her, although she came to the loft about a week later and asked me to. I told her what I just told you- it was understandable. Besides, I don't do apologies typically. No apologies, no excuses, no regrets.”

“How the fuck did she ask you to forgive her? I mean, what was her excuse?”

“My lord, Sunshine, you’re awfully worked up over this! You hardly know me!” Brian laughs.

“Brian, I know you better than I know anyone - I’m not trying to scare you by telling you that, but I suspect you get my drift as to why that is. And I feel really fond of you Brian, to be honest. Besides, I don’t think I qualify anymore as someone who ‘hardly knows you'. I’ve learned a lot about you, your friends and your life today—“

“It’s tonight now,” Brian notes, looking at a wall clock and seeing that it’s after 7. "Fuck. I've never talked this much in my life!"

I ignore him and continue, “--And I’ve learned all this on the floor of an apartment that for the first time in many years is not my own; and it’s a *real* conversation, with a beautiful man- not a few words sputtered anxiously to a delivery boy telling him to keep the change so I can quickly close and lock my door. Brian, this is kind of a momentous thing for me… You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Fuck, did I just say all that out loud? I wince inwardly, wondering if he’s going to push me out into the hall and slam his door. I keep crossing the line I *know* is there with this guy. My social skills suck! I blurt out whatever's in my head! It doesn’t help that I am continually sketching his luscious form, face, everything in my mind. Well, sketching; and um… and lusting after- like never, ever, EVER before in my entire life.

Brian stares at me a long moment. Then he smiles. “Why do you look so apprehensive?”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d take what I just said,” I admit quietly. "I just kind of say what I'm thinking when I'm around you and I hate it. I don't want to scare you away."

“Well, I know I’m an insensitive asshole, but as I said in your apartment, when it comes to agoraphobia, I have what might pass as a Kinney-style soft spot. I can understand why this is a big deal for you and the art of conversation isn't your strongpoint.

"Mom’s first steps out of the house had her elated for over a week- even though it was maybe two feet out the front door. In a way though, she was lucky because she had me and my sister to talk to and wasn’t alone in the house like you are. And, I guess, Jack – my father- counts as a person in the house. But he didn’t make for very good company,” he mutters.

“Anyway," he's quick to change the subject. "Your question: I wasn't looking for an excuse. As I said, no excuses. And Deb didn’t really have one for shutting me out except that she had high hopes that Mikey and fuck-face Dr. Dave would work out. They almost did; Mikey even moved to Portland, Oregon with the Dr. and he stayed for awhile. But he missed the Pitts, his family and friends so Mikey came home. To be honest, I hated Dr. Dave – he was a shit and he hated me back. He was possessive of Michael and while they were in the Pitts, he tried to keep Mikey away from me and me away from him. In my opinion, trying to control someone, especially by keeping them apart from someone important in their life, is a sure way to lose them.

“Besides, he was a pretentious breeder wanna-be. His friends weren’t Mikey’s kind of crowd, as much as Michael tried to fit in with them. They were a bunch of snooty fucks just like Dr. Dave. While still in the Pitts, Michael almost became one of them and the whole gang started to really dislike who he was becoming.” He snickers. “He threw a party for Senator Baxtor with Dr. Dave- Michael didn’t even invite us. So I suggested I make a large contribution to the Senator’s campaign, which surely meant we would be ‘welcome’ at the party. We all showed up and the subdued, boring party was transformed into a blast! We all dressed outrageously- I looked fucking hot!” He chuckles. “If I do say so myself.”

No fucking doubt, I think. “Was Michael mad? Did the senator get mad?”

“Mikey was appalled- but the rest of the bored partygoers really started having fun. I fucked at least three of the waiters. The senator loved the whole scene. But Michael was stubborn about us having ruined the party and by the end of it, Debbie was fed up with him. Her parting words were that she never thought she’d be ashamed of him- something like that. That hit home with Michael, I think; and I think that’s about when we all left- the party kinda hit the skids at that point.

“But Deb made a good friend of the senator,” he adds.

“Was she big on gay rights- the senator, I mean?”

Brian looks at me and rolls his eyes. “No. She supported right wing anti-gay causes.”

I look at him stupidly. “Huh?”

“Of course, you moron! Why would a bunch of fags throw a fundraising party to help elect a woman who supports anti-gay causes? Or at the very least, doesn't support gay rights?”

I blush. I can be kinda gullible. I’m learning. “Oh. Right.”

He smiles and then puts his tongue in the hollow of his cheek- which I’m quickly finding is a Kinney trademark- as is the smirk and the cocked eyebrow. And I find them all endearing despite the fact that they’re often used to convey sarcasm or something else telling me I don’t *get* it or whatever. Or that he’s noticed my ever-present hard on but is not saying anything.

“Anyway,” his tone changes. “As I said before, I don’t think I’ve talked this much in my life, Sunshine. Especially about me and my fucked up freakshow of a surrogate family; I’m chewing your ear off. Shit.”

I’m grinning. “Brian, I’ve already told you that I love it- that all I know is TV and internet crap.” I chuckle ironically. “Funny that Michael still didn’t end up with Dr. Dave despite Deb’s attempt to cut you out of the picture so they'd end up together.”

“Shit, Sunshine- let that go, will ya?” But he’s smiling. “Forgive and forget, you know?”

I huff. “Yeah, right. So, who else are your friends? Anyone you haven’t told me about?” I ask, trying to keep him going. I believe him- he strikes me as the type who wouldn’t talk this much, especially about the life and times of himself and his ‘freakshow family’. But it’s not terribly revealing about *who* he is (well, he likely thinks that. But I’m learning a lot about Brian Kinney. The more I learn, the more I’m falling for him- he’d call me young, naïve and a virgin, and reiterate that I don’t know him. I’d say no- I’m a good judge of character. And that I *do* know him. But I stay quiet for now.) So anyway, keeping the stories focused on his ‘family’ and not himself, he probably can talk about it all more easily. Plus, I think he knows I crave this conversation, my first in years. I’m kind of amazed at how at ease he’s made me feel.

“You’re a glutton for punishment, Sunshine,” he sighs, continuing, “there’s Ted. He works for me; and I guess I’d count him as a friend, although I find him very vanilla, bland- basically, kind of dull. But he’s overall a nice person even if he is a sarcastic motherfucker. And he’s good at his job- he’s an Accountant/Manager, and is really helping to keep the Pitts agency on its feet while I’m gone. My partner, a putz named Gardner, couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag.”

“How’d he get to be a partner then?” I ask.

“He bought the company from my former boss; I proved to him that I could bring in excellent accounts and he reluctantly promoted me; he hates me because the employees respect me- they fear me, too, but whatever- and he doesn’t really command respect because he’s not very good at what he does. I bring in over 50% of the new accounts, and am hoping to someday either buy out his shares or start my own agency and leave the fucker behind.”

“I assume he has a majority of the shares.”

“Yeah. Not a huge majority, but enough.”

“So, that’s your friends and your job; you have a full life, Brian,” I say quietly, comparing my boring existence to his exciting life, feeling almost envious.

“What the fuck is wrong with you now?”

Hm. “Nothing. Didn’t you mention something about munchers? Lindsay the art teacher and another one?” I ask, trying to get his focus off me and back to his story.

He eyes me a moment, suspicious. “Yeeeeah… I did,” he drawls slowly.

“Tell me about them. It sounds like they’re in your circle of friends.”

He rolls his eyes. “So many questions, Sunshine. You should be a reporter. The munchers are a couple; they’re even married." He shudders and I chuckle. If he doesn't believe in relationships, I imagine marriage is the last thing he'd believe in. "One of them, Mel, despises me. Her wife, Lindsay, is a good friend from way back- we became best friends in college. She’s the mother of my son, Gus.”

*That* catches me off guard. “Your SON?”

Brian’s expression softens and a look of pure love comes over him. He smiles warmly. “Yeah. My son. Linds and Mel really wanted a family and much to Mel’s dismay, Lindsay insisted I be the father. I never expected to have anything to do with the child after donating my sperm, but amazingly, he and I are very close and I love him with all my shriveled up little heart. Gus is my Sonny Boy.”

“Brian, shut up with the ‘shriveled up little heart’ crap. Fuck you!” I don’t know what to do but smile at him. He’s so fucking gorgeous… and his heart is anything *but* shriveled up. “Um… Do you have a picture?”

“I packed a whole photo album,” he laughs. “While I’m here, I’ll miss him. I’ll probably fly back at least every other weekend to visit with him. I still have my loft back there, so I won't have to stay in a hotel. I'll go as often as I can, if that bitch Melanie doesn’t throw a wrench in the works.” He frowns.

“May I see the album?” I ask, eager to see what Brian’s son looks like. I bet that Gus is as beautiful his father.

“You want to see my family pictures? Fuck. When someone else pulls out their family album, I immediately want to flee.”

I laugh, not doubting him one bit. “Of course I want to see your pictures!”

“Okay- let me see if I can find the fucking thing." He gets up and rummages around in a few boxes before pulling out a decently sized album.

“Did you really put that together?” It doesn’t seem like a very Brian-like activity to create a sentimental family album.

“Fuck no. You may not know me that well, but surely you’ve realized that’s not something I’d do: sit at the coffee table with photos spread around, making labels and pasting it all together in an album!”

“No, it didn't seem like something you'd do. That’s kind of why I asked,” I admit.

“Well, it was a good question then. No, the rest of the ‘family’ put it together for me for a going away present. I got it at my going away ‘party’ before I came here." He snorts, apparently thinking about the party. "The party started out nice and proper and as usual with this crowd, after the munchers and Gus left, ended up being a drunken melee.”

I grin, taking the album from him as he hands it to me. “A melee mostly instigated by you, may I assume?”

“Hmm. Maybe you are getting to know me,” he grins evilly.

Then he surprises me. Brian comes around behind me and puts his legs on either side of mine and he leans against my back and wraps his arms around mine, taking back the album. My breathing rapidly becomes a staccato of short gasping breaths as I feel his body flush against mine. Fuck, his body is so strong, so lean; I’ve felt him against me before- but his cock is hard against my back and I start to feel so hot that beads of perspiration start to form on my upper lip and my arm pits are too warm- needless to say my cock is stiffer than ever before and is leaking profusely; he leans his chin on my shoulder. “Is this okay, Sunshine?” he whispers in my ear, sending shivers up and down my spine and raising goosebumps all over my body despite how warm I’m getting.

All I can do is gulp and nod a little too fast.

“You’re getting warm, Sunshine,” he observes, his chin still on my shoulder, his lips still at my ear.

Fuck me!!! I’m fucking *salivating*! Again, I gulp and nod. I’m breathing hard and I lick my lips; I can taste the sweat from my upper lip.

“Hey, hey! Sunshine, don’t hyperventilate!” He says with concern, pulling his head away from my shoulder.

“Bri… inhaler…”

“Shit!” He scrambles to his feet. “Where is it in that pile of trash in your apartment?”

“’S’okay…” I pull it from my robe pocket and quickly spray a few spritzes into my lungs.

I see his shoulders slump in relief as my breathing becomes less raspy and slows. “I’m so sorry, Justin. Fuck!”

“No, Brian - *I’m* sorry! Shit, I’ve fucked this all up! I’ve ruined everything! That was the most powerful experience of my life and my fucking asthma *ruined* it!”

Brian kneels on his haunches in front of me, still looking extremely worried. He gently brushes a few strands of sweaty hair from my forehead. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats softly. “And I typically hate that word.”

“Please, don’t say you’re sorry. Please, come around behind me again- it won’t happen again, it won’t!” Fuck, I’m begging him. I look deep into his eyes, hopefully not showing too much desperation. “Please. I just got too excited too fast. I’ve been… well, you already know that I’ve wanted to touch you, have you touch me, since I saw you through the peephole at my apartment. You being so close, pressed against me, so amazing, your body so firm- and you were so…” do I dare say ‘hard’? Is that too weird?

“Hard?” He offers.

I swallow and nod. “And feeling you wrapped around me … the excitement was just overwhelming- please don’t let it scare you!” I’m still looking into his eyes; his eyes don’t waver from mine and I’ve become lost in their hazel-gold-chocolate depths. “Please don’t let it scare you away from me…” I whisper.

“Shhhh,” he finally says. “That did scare me, Sunshine, but it didn’t scare me away. It’s just a reminder that I shouldn’t let my raging hormones take control like that; at least not in this context. Like I said earlier when we kissed: you’re my neighbor, not a trick…” his voice is hushed.

Shit shit shit! I feel like I’m going to cry. I bite my bottom lip to keep it from quivering. “No…” I manage before, like a sissy, I do start to cry. “Brian, I don’t want to be a trick either… but I want you. I’ve never touched a man- except for our kisses and caresses - our hugs. I don’t want you to turn away. Please don’t.”

“Sunshine, I’m not turning away. I wouldn’t do that. We should just be careful about this.”

I reach out a trembling finger and trace Brian's beautifully, naturally sculpted eyebrows, then trail my finger down his cheek to his mouth. I gently press the ball of my index finger against his soft, coral lips. I can feel the hot, somewhat elevated breaths from his nose on my finger. I look up into his eyes which have softened from the sharp concerned expression they held a few moments ago and again, I lose myself in him. A little nervously, I lean towards him replacing my finger with my lips. He doesn’t pull away.

I take a chance and push him gently to lie on his back; then I lay on him carefully, relishing his warm, solid, slender body against me - this time face to face. He pulls back from the kiss and opens his eyes. “Are you okay?” he whispers.

I smile and nod. “I’m fine,” I answer quietly. His hands slowly pull the front of my robe apart and he puts his arms in the opening and around my naked back, his warm palms flattening against my skin and gently he trails his hands up and down, tracing my spine and the whole length of my back. I’m moaning; I'm lost. “Brian, will you fuck me? Will you make love to me?” His hands pause a moment in their caresses. I look deeply into his eyes and I smile. “Okay- we’ll stick with ‘will you fuck me’,” I say softly.

I’m so hard- I feel harder than I’ve ever been. Shit, I think I've said that to myself a million times since I met this guy; each time I get close to him, it feels that way though, like I've never been harder! I nuzzle his neck and smell that same, clean masculine scent I did yesterday in my apartment as I was fishing for menus trying to avoid his eyes, and then again when I hugged him when he came over early this morning after my panicked phone call; this time, there’s a touch of Thai smell mixed in as a result of our lunch long ago. It’s very pleasant. I raise my face inches from his and try to read his eyes; they’re warm but he smirks at me.

“'Make love', eh?” he finally says with a chuckle. “Justin, I don’t believe in love—"

“--You believe in fucking. You don’t do boyfriends. I was listening to all of that when you said it awhile ago,“ I interrupt, rolling my eyes. “Okay- that’s fine. Then we’ll compromise: I’ll make love, you’ll fuck.”

“Sunshine, no.”

I must look stricken because his eyes cloud over with a somewhat alarmed expression.

“Justin, I’m not saying we never will- we've been over this. I just don’t want to have it all blow up in your face or mine or both and have to fucking move out because of bad neighbor ‘relations’.”

“Why would that happen?”

“Justin, I don’t fuck anyone more than once. I typically don’t even get a name—“

“Uh huh- I know- you've said. But as you also said, I’m not a trick. Isn’t that only with tricks?”

“Yeah. All the more reason we gotta be careful here.” He looks like he’s absolutely shocked at himself right now. I suspect he never in his lifetime thought he’d tell a man ‘not yet’ or ‘we gotta be careful here’ and it's like he suddenly realizes he's been doing that a lot with me. It’s obvious he wants to fuck me maybe even as much as I want him to, although I doubt that; especially if he can pull in the reins like this.

“Do you mind if we kiss and lay like this for awhile then?”

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