Justin's Profile

Is it that little dip in his bottom lip?

Or the sway and wiggle in his hips?

Maybe it's that derriere,

Or the here-today, gone-tomorrow blond hair.

It could even be that witty mind,

Or his ability to fuck me blind.

Whatever it is, it's clear to see

That Justin really does it for me.

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I can't believe I just wrote that shit. I must be losing my mind. If Justin sees this, he'll laugh or take my temperature...maybe even both.  Worst yet, he might cry - nah. I haven't seen a tear in his eye for ages.  He's a tough little fucker - tougher than me.

Perhaps he'll give me that smile...not the famous one which earned him the nickname. I mean that other smile, the one he's only given me when I've said or done something that hits him just right. It's a smile that makes me want to kiss him senseless. When he described our first encounter as 'love,' that smile was there, disarming me.

I have no defenses anymore when it comes to Justin Taylor. And I put up one hell of a fight.

I fought against my attraction to him with every weapon in my arsenal, and he swiftly removed each one. I hate to say it, but I became putty in his hands. I did not want to become some sort of hetero lovesick fool, but that's exactly what I became, minus the 'hetero' part. Justin figured it out before I did...hell; my friends knew it before me! Justin pointed it out during that impromptu interview at Vanguard. So what's the point of hiding it anymore?

I've always known Justin was sharp - a 1500 SAT score and acceptance letters from Ivy League universities were mere icing - but he's also talented as fuck. The way his mind works turns me on as much as, if not more so, his talents with fellatio.

He challenges me in ways I only got from colleagues and clients, perhaps even Lindsay, Mel or Ted. He's pretty much on their intellectual level, even if they sometimes patronize him, which irritates the hell out of me. He's a fucking genius, with amazing talent. I've enjoyed our conversations almost as much as the sex. He makes me look at situations through different angles and perspectives instead of in a linear black-and-white frame.

What he's accomplished with Michael on the comic book is phenomenal.  It's selling like mad, and Justin's art just gets better and better. He's drawing freely with pencil more often, even though he still has to take breaks (fucking Hobbs). I've always known he'd succeed at something, although I do wish he'd go back to school. With a degree, he'd be unstoppable.

Justin took everything I taught him sexually, and excelled at it all beyond my expectations. He knows the impact of a certain angle of the tongue; how biting flesh one way can make you sigh, and another can hurt; how the ears can be erogenous zones. In his studies he's also taught me that I don't always have to be on top. It's not often that I bottom, but when I do I enjoy Justin's mastery. I've taught him well.

What kills me most of all about Justin is how much he's taught me.  Through him I've learned that strength comes from within, not from wearing the right armor. I've learned to appreciate a scent, a vision, or a thought once ignored. And most of all, I've learned about the entity called "Love."

Justin loves me with a ferocity I've never seen, not even in Michael.  Even in the days of Ian Justin never stopped loving me. I knew it as well as I know my name. That was why I kept making an effort to enter his life in some small way.

I was always encouraging him to seek younger blood, someone closer to his age. This was an excellent opportunity for him to experience what this guy had to offer, and decide on his own if it made for a successful pairing.  I wasn't going to tell him I thought Ian was full of it; that was something he'd find out on his own. Anyway, that was then; we're joined at the hip now.

Justin encourages me and keeps me grounded. He doesn't let me get away with the bullshit I pulled in the early days. And I don't let him pull his disappearing acts anymore. If there's an issue, we stand there and fight. And then we make up for hours - why the hell didn't anyone tell me this shit was so fun? Lindsay probably did, but I'm sure I blocked it out of my mind.

I hear the familiar sound of the door opening and quick Justin-steps behind me. He peeks over my shoulder and sees the poem. I rush to hide it, but he snatches it out of my hand and quietly reads it. I'm trying so hard not to just take it and rip it to shreds, and end up sitting on my hands. Justin finishes the poem and smiles down at me. It's the quietly luminous one I like best. I could look at that smile for hours. He brushes his lips against mine and says, "Your secret's safe with me." He pockets the poem and flops beside me on the sofa.

My Justin.

Fin

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