Rage Over Hollywood

Chapter 7

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brian hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until he awoke mid-morning. Justin still lay in his arms, but he could tell the man was awake. "You OK?" he asked quietly.

"No," was his response.

"Anything I can do?"

Justin turned his head and reached up to place a soft kiss on his lips. "You're already doing it," he said as he snuggled back into his lover's embrace.

Brian ran a hand idly up and down the other man's back.

"Brian?"

"Yeah."

"Would you stay if you were me?"

Brian swallowed before answering. "I can't say," he said quietly. "Because I'm not you."

Justin turned again and rested his chin on his lover's chest. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment and then Justin once again broke the silence.

"I thought it would be different," he said softly.

"Are you talking about the job itself, or all the shit surrounding it lately?"

"Both, I guess. The job isn't what I expected. Sometimes I wish I was one of the artists instead of the assistant art director."

Brian smiled at that.

"And I guess I knew there would be people who wouldn't be crazy about the idea of a gay superhero movie, but I thought maybe they'd do a couple of those 'family-friendly' interviews on the local news or something. I didn't think they'd go as far as to try and kill someone over it."

"I don't think any of us could have expected that."

"Maybe we should have," Justin replied, lowering his eyes from Brian's.

Brian didn't like the sound of that, not coming from Justin. "What do you mean by that?"

Justin rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "If a person can do what … what Chris Hobbes did just because two guys dance together at a chaperoned function, what made us think we'd get away with something like this that the whole world could see?"

Brian propped himself up on one elbow and stared at his lover for a moment. "You weren't trying to get away with anything, Justin. You were exercising your right to express yourself, first through the comic and then the movie. You were taking the opportunity you'd been given to show the world what's it's like out there for gays. That homophobia is still alive and well and that we're not just going to hide from it like a bunch of scared fags. As long as gays and homophobes are the only ones who know what really goes on, how are things ever going to change?"

Justin turned to look at him after a moment. "You don't think I should quit?"

Brian's breath caught at that one. He wanted to scream 'Yes! I want you to quit! I want you safe!' Instead, all that came out of his mouth was, "I think you should do what's right for you. Don't let me or anyone else take that choice from you."

Justin managed a sad smile, then. "Thanks," he whispered.

Brian leaned over and kissed him. "You can thank me with breakfast," he replied with a smirk.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Entering the hospital, Brian was bombarded with memories of the last time he'd been there. He'd gone hoping to question Keller about whether Justin was alive or dead, then he'd been elated to find him, then devastated when he'd been denounced as his partner. The memory of those few days was still an unpleasant one and he didn't appreciate being reminded.

As if reading his thoughts, Justin took his hand and squeezed it as they stepped into the elevator on their way to the intensive care ward.

When they reached the floor, they went straight to the nurses' station and explained why they were there.

"I'm sorry, but only family is allowed in ICU," the nurse told them kindly.

"We understand," Justin explained. "Could you just please tell Mrs. Santini that we were here? I want her to know that …"

"I'm Mrs. Santini," a small voice came from behind them. Brian and Justin both turned to see a handsome woman looking at them through red-rimmed eyes.

"I'm Justin Taylor," Justin said, taking a step toward her, "and this is my partner, Brian Kinney."

"You know my Victor?" she asked, leading them toward a series of chairs in the waiting area.

"I talk to him every day at the studio," Justin replied. "We just wanted you to know how sorry we are about what happened."

"Justin," she said thoughtfully as though trying to recall something. "The boy from Pittsburgh."

"Yes, Ma'am."

She smiled. "Victor told me you were a polite young man," she said.

Justin blushed slightly. "When I first started at the studio and didn't know anyone, Victor always took the time to talk to me when he could. I wanted you to know how much I appreciate that."

"He's a good man, my Victor," she said proudly.

"How's he doing?" Brian asked.

"He's in a coma," she answered after taking a shaky breath. "They say he could wake up once the swelling around his brain subsides, but they can't really tell me what to expect. If he'll ever be… be the man he was before."

Justin placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry things happened this way," he said sincerely.

She cleared her throat in an effort to regain what composure she could. "I really should get back," she said, almost apologetically.

"Of course," Justin replied as he and Brian got to their feet and helped her to do the same. "I'll try to stop by again when I can."

"You do that," she said, squeezing his hand in a show of appreciation. "Thank you both for coming."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Once back in the apartment, Brian pulled Justin into a supportive hug. Gentle kisses, meant to offer and draw comfort, soon turned to deep, hungry expressions of need. No words were spoken as they stumbled their way toward the bedroom, stripping off articles of clothing on the way. By the time they collapsed onto the bed, they were both naked and hard.

After long minutes during which both sets of lips did their best to devour the other, Justin abruptly rolled over and got to his hands and knees. Looking over his shoulder, he hissed, "Fuck me, Brian."

Always willing to comply, at least to a demand such as that, Brian grabbed a condom and lube from the bedside table. After rolling the latex sheath onto his throbbing cock, he lubed two fingers and reached to begin preparing his lover. Justin reached back and grabbed his arm, effectively stopping him in mid-motion. "Just do it," he said.

It wasn't the idea that gave Brian reason to hesitate; he knew sometimes Justin liked a rougher ride, but the almost angry desperation in his voice told him this was different. He nodded once and Justin lowered his upper body to the bed, clenching the pillow on either side of his head. Brian lubed his covered cock and positioned it at his lover's hole, fully intending to ease it in slowly in light of the lack of preparation.

Justin, however, had other ideas. As soon as he felt Brian begin to push, he thrust his hips backward, effectively impaling himself on the turgid member.

"Jesus, Justin," Brian gasped.

The younger man only groaned. "Fuck me, Brian. Hard!"

Brian proceeded to do just that, pulling out and slamming back home over and over while Justin pushed back each time, trying to get more of his lover inside of him. "Harder!" he shouted, "Damn it, Brian, fuck me harder!"

Brian was already unmercifully pummeling the man's ass and couldn't believe he was demanding more. His mind kept telling him to stop it while he still could, but by that point, his body was calling the shots. Over and over he pounded into the warm tunnel, each thrust punctuated by a demand for more from the man beneath him.

"No," he finally said, stilling completely and grabbing Justin's hips to stop his momentum. "Not like this." He slowly pulled out and turned the other man onto his back. When he saw the tear-stained cheeks and the pain-filled eyes, he had to swallow hard. "Jesus fucking Christ, Justin. I don't want to hurt you."

Justin shook his head. "You're not. Please, Brian," he begged on a broken whisper. "I just need to feel something else."

Brian was torn. He was angry at himself and at Justin, but at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to erase the desolation he heard in his lover's voice. Ignoring his own still semi-hard cock, he lowered his head to put every skill he possessed into the most important blowjob of his life. When Justin finally shot into the back of his throat, it was with more of a whimper than anything.

Without a word, Brian rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Justin could do nothing but lay there, his mind in turmoil as fresh tears tracked their way down his cheeks.

He couldn't remember ever feeling so… so guilty. Was this how Brian had felt after the bashing? A fresh wave of sadness rolled over him at the thought that his lover had experienced the same misery he, himself, now was. The deep, gnawing guilt that something you'd done had resulted in serious injury to another. It wasn't at all like the anger he'd felt after the bashing. That had come from knowing that he'd been attacked for something he had no control over, for simply being who he was.

This was different. Victor was hurt, perhaps dying, and it was because of Justin's actions, not his sexuality or any other factor that couldn't be altered.

He turned his head as the bathroom door opened and Brian came out carrying a warm, wet washcloth. After gently wiping the tears from his lover's face, he crawled under the covers and took the distraught man in his arms. It was Brian's voice that broke the silence a few moments later.

"If you feel the need to punish yourself for something that's not your fucking fault, that's one thing," he said, his voice strained. "But don't you ever fucking try to make me do it for you."

The words brought fresh tears to Justin's eyes and he clung tightly to the man by his side, ashamed at how he'd tried to use him, at how he'd hurt him. "God, I'm so sorry," he nearly sobbed. "I don't know … I just…It wasn't about hurting, Brian, it was about … about feeling … feeling something other than the guilt."

Brian tilted the blond head up until he could look into the blue eyes. "I know," he said softly. And he did. Years of perfecting his own form of pain management gave him good insight to what Justin was feeling, but Justin wasn't Brian. It would eat away at the young man until there was nothing left but a bitter shell of what he should be. "But no more, Justin. I mean it."

"I promise," Justin whispered as a fresh tear escaped to slowly trickle down his face. "You didn't hurt me, Brian, I swear."

Brian leaned in to gently kiss the tear away before pulling back to study the blue orbs looking back at him. He took Justin at his word that he was OK physically. "Why?" he asked softly. "Guilt isn't your style, Sunshine."

Justin breathed a shaky breath. "I guess I never had reason before," he surmised quietly. "After I was… after Hobbes, I was angry more than anything. He'd attacked me because of who I was. Even the whole thing with Cody was because of people who hate us just because of the way we were born."

"Go on," Brian encouraged when Justin paused.

"Until Victor, I'd been the only one who had to suffer the consequences for things I'd done," Justin continued quietly. "It wasn't about me being gay. It was about what I do as an artist. I was the one who drew Rage. I decided to do it because I wanted to. I went ahead with the comic and flogged it out to the public and I took such pride in it, especially when Brett said he wanted to make it into a movie."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Brian pointed out. "You have every right to be proud."

"But I can't stop thinking about Victor and his wife, their kids and grandchildren. They're all suffering because of Rage, something I took such pleasure and pride in."

"No, they're suffering because of some homophobic assholes who know no better way to express themselves than through violence. You really think you can take responsibility for that? For the way they were raised or the lessons they learned probably before you were even born? Hell, if you can, then I don't give you nearly enough credit."

Justin was silent for a long time while he mulled over those words. "You're right," he finally said, turning his head to look at Brian.

"I'm always right," Brian replied with a smirk.

"Especially about the part where you don't give me enough credit," Justin teased with a small smile.

Brian stroked his lover's cheek. "Want to try this again? The right way?"

Justin smiled and nodded, pulling Brian's head down for a deep, tender kiss. For the next two hours, they made slow, passionate love to one another before drifting off into much needed sleep.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Brian awoke to the smell of food and after relieving himself in the bathroom and pulling on a pair of jeans, he made his way into the kitchen. Coming up behind Justin where he stood at the stove, he slipped his arms around the trim waist and planted a warm kiss on the side of his neck. "Smells good," he murmured.

Justin turned in the embrace and reached up to put his arms around his lover's neck. "About before," he said quietly. "I really am sorry, Brian."

"I know," Brian assured him, depositing a kiss on the soft lips before pressing his forehead to the blond's in a gesture all their own. "Forget it."

Justin smiled, relieved that they'd been able to clear the air with a minimum of drama. They were really starting to get the hang of this relationship stuff.

As he turned back toward the stove, the phone rang.

"Keep cooking," Brian smirked. "I'll get it."

"Yes, dear," Justin countered in the same falsetto voice Brian often used in similar situations.

A moment later, Brian was handing him the cordless phone. "Keller," he said simply.

Justin wiped his hands on a towel and took the phone. "Brett? Hi." He listened for a few minutes, then said, "Yeah, Ok. That's makes sense, I guess." He glanced at Brian as Brett continued on the other end of the line. "No, that sounds like a good idea, actually. I'll see you Monday morning."

After hanging up, he made his way to where Brian stood leaning against the counter.

"Good news or bad?" Brian asked.

"Both," Justin answered, snaking his arms around his lover's waist. "There was quite a bit of damage to the area of the studio where the fire was. They have to stop production for a week until they can get it all cleaned up."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "And that means what?"

Justin smiled. "That I'm going home for a week," he answered. "That is, if you think you can put up with me that long. If not, I'm sure I could always find someone… I mean, something to do here in L.A for a week."

"Smartass," Brian smirked, pulling him close. "The only someone you'll be doing for the next week is me."

"Mmmm," Justin purred, "I love it when you talk all bottomy."

Brian laughed. "That's not what I meant and you know it, Twat. So, what's this about Monday morning?"

"Brett's got a few things he wants me to look at before I go. Also, he wants me to take one of the revised scripts home to Michael to show that they're staying true to his original storyline more or less."

Brian nodded. "In that case, I'll change my flight from Sunday night and fly back with you on Monday."

"Sounds like a plan," Justin agreed. "Brett figures they'll be ready to start up again the following Monday, so I'll come back here on Sunday."

"So instead of a weekend, I get two and every day in between," Brian pointed out. "What do you say we celebrate my good fortune?" With that, he bent to deliver the most heart-stopping kiss in recent history on the warm lips of his lover. When he finally pulled back, Justin's eyes were glazed and his breathing unsteady.

"Uh," he managed, licking his lips to catch any lingering traces of Brian. "What about dinner?"

Brian chuckled, pressing their foreheads together. "I don't think you're in any shape to cook at the moment, Sunshine."

In total agreement, Justin reached over and turned off the stove before allowing himself to be led to the bedroom.

Return to Rage Over Hollywood