Ten Days of Christmas

~Prologue~

December 24, 2003

Justin heard the key in the door and quickly glanced around to make sure everything was ready. He poured the champagne into two flutes and turned out the light. The room was dark but for the moonlight streaming into the living room. It filtered through the branches of the pine tree framed in the large bay window. Normally the Manhattan skyline was visible, but the thick branches blotted out most of the little dots. Justin heard his lover’s footsteps on the short staircase from the entryway to the living room and he reached out and took Brian’s hand in the dark before he could turn the lights back on.

“What are you doing?” Brian sounded tired and irritable, but he squeezed Justin’s hand and twined their fingers together. “Why are the lights off?”

Justin led him to the tree and nudged the switch on the power strip at the base with his toe. Hundreds of shimmering white lights illuminated the tall pine and cast a soft glow over the room.

Brian sighed. “Justin--”

Justin wrapped his arms around Brian’s waist and silenced his protests with a kiss. “Just for tonight,” he whispered. It’s our anniversary. “It’s Christmas Eve, you promised we would do anything I wanted tonight.”

Justin knew the holiday didn’t mean anything special to Brian, but he also knew Brian would keep his word.

Brian pulled free of Justin’s grasp, but just to take off his jacket and tie. He tossed them over the back of the sofa and took the glass of champagne Justin handed to him. “So what’s so special about tonight?” he drawled coolly, but he didn’t resist being maneuvered onto the sofa.

Justin sat on Brian’s lap, straddling his hips. “Just that I get you all to myself for one night. No Christmas parties, no client obligations, no visiting family. The door’s locked, phone’s unplugged…” he furtively glanced at Brian’s coat, his cell phone tucked in the pocket, as an after thought.

Brian cupped his chin and turned his attention back. “I promised…to fuck you all night.”

Justin smiled and clinked their glasses together. “You always know the perfect toast.”

Their glasses where quickly drained and their clothes became disheveled as they groped and necked for a while. Finally, Brian pushed Justin off his lap and stood. “Bedroom,” he growled. He started down the hall to their room, pulling Justin by his belt loop.

“No, wait.” Justin jerked free and knelt in front of the tree. He pulled out the bedding he’d stuffed underneath. “Here. Please.” Brian just stared at him blankly and Justin fidgeted with the blanket. “I like the tree. Just for tonight.”

“Smells like a fucking forest,” Brian muttered. “I don’t want to hear any bitching about your allergies later.”

Justin grinned and spread out the blanket. “All taken care of,” he replied as he stretched out under the twinkling lights.

Brian quickly stripped and lay down with him. He picked up the lube and condoms peeking out from under the tree skirt. “Everything’s taken care of, I see.”

Justin nodded and discarded his own clothes. He opened his arms and Brian rolled on top of him, nuzzling his neck. His hands and lips roamed over Justin’s skin and Justin moaned and arched into each caress.

Then Brian stopped. “Look at me.”

Justin opened his eyes and dutifully met Brian’s gaze. “Not a dream,” he murmured, the familiar mantra an automatic response.

Brian smirked, reciting his next line on cue, “How many times do you have to feel my dick in your ass before you believe it?”

“Every day.” For the rest of my life.

***

Brian was asleep on his back and Justin lay nestled against his side with his head on Brian’s shoulder. His own eyelids slowly drooped and the white lights above them started to fade out…

…he saw a bare tree propped up in a corner of the large sitting room, the box of ornaments overturned, spilling its family treasures across the floor. Brian had not been interested in decorating the tree anyway and quickly went about distracting Justin from his task. Not that it took much. The tree was forgotten as they made love in front of the fireplace…

Brian suddenly rolled over, displacing Justin and jarring him out of his dream. He blinked rapidly, refocusing on the present reality.

Brian blindly reached for him and pulled him back against his chest, spooning Justin from behind. Their fingers automatically intertwined and Justin squeezed Brian’s hand reassuringly before drifting off again. He concentrated on the sound of Brian’s breathing in his ear to keep himself from slipping back to the past once more.

He wasn’t surprised the dreams were more frequent again the past few weeks. They’d started a year ago, ten days before Christmas—just before he met Brian…this time.

***

December 14, 2002

“Justin, he’s your father,” Jennifer pleaded.

“I don’t need to be reminded.”

“He wants to see you.”

“No, he wants to see Molly. He wants to be sure my disgusting lifestyle isn’t corrupting her.”

Jennifer sighed. “If you stopped antagonizing him--”

“Me?” Justin barked. “He’s the one who slapped me!”

“You shouldn’t have said--”

“Why not?” he snarled. “He asked.”

Jennifer held up her hands in defeat. “Enough.”

Justin walked over to his mother’s living room picture window and looked outside. The fresh snowfall blanketed the ground under several inches of white powder. The day’s bright sun made it sparkle like diamonds, but it didn’t beckon to him as usual. He didn’t feel any urge to sift through the sparkling crystals. Instead, the edges looked jagged and painful.

He shivered.

His mother’s hand brushed his arm. “I know your father can be difficult, but the truth of the matter is you need him to help you pay for school. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Mom, it’s okay.” Justin knew she was struggling just to make ends meet for Molly, she’d already overextended herself enough on his behalf. “I’m almost finished. I’ll just--”

“You can’t keep working so much and concentrate on your studies.” She brushed away the stray bangs that fell into his eyes when he vehemently shook his head. “Just talk to him,” she urged. “Honestly, he’s more upset that you cut him out of your life than he is that you’re gay.”

Justin snorted. “I didn’t cut him out. He left us. He left you and Molly. He shacked up with that bimbo in Chicago and couldn’t be bothered to even call us for two years.” Justin couldn’t believe his mother was even talking to the asshole again and his anger resurfaced.

“But he’s here now,” she replied evenly. “Just spend some time with him.”

Justin’s face hardened. “Fine. He can come over to my place and I’ll make dinner. He can meet Ethan.”

Jennifer sighed. “Honey--”

“If he wants to be part of my life again, he should meet my boyfriend,” Justin insisted.

“Yes, he should,” Jennifer agreed reluctantly. “Just don’t push so hard so fast. Meet him alone first. Some place neutral. Have a drink at the hotel. Then you can bring Ethan to Christmas dinner.

Justin bristled again. Ethan wasn’t a bargaining chip! “I’m already bringing Ethan to dinner at Grandma’s.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Jennifer quickly amended. “Just give your father a little time to adjust to the idea before you spring it on him.”

“He’s had three years.”

Justin saw her shoulders finally slump a little and he felt a twinge of guilt. He knew how hard it had been for her to end her marriage. She swore it had nothing to do with him, but he knew the real fighting began when he came out. “What hotel is he at?”

***

Craig Taylor met him in the hotel lobby and formally shook his hand. Justin couldn’t remember the last time his father had hugged him.

“Justin. You look good.” He hadn’t really looked at him at all.

“Thanks.” Justin quickly appraised his father’s tan and Hugo Boss jacket and looked away again. “Nice hotel.”

Craig also glanced around the lobby, his eyes finally settling on the ornate entrance. “Yeah.”

This was bullshit. “Dad--”

“Let’s eat. I made a reservation at the restaurant across the street. Best chophouse in the city.”

Justin cringed, but his father didn’t notice because he was already walking toward the door.

When they were seated, Justin immediately ordered a double shot of whiskey from the bar.

Craig ordered the same, but then chastised Justin when the waiter left the table. “You’re lucky he didn’t card you, young man. I don’t appreciate being used to--”

Justin glared at him. “I turned twenty-one six months ago, dad."

Craig was nonplussed. “Your mother tells me you’re showing some…art in a gallery downtown.”

Justin nodded cautiously. He hadn’t expected his father to even mention his art since it was just another bone of contention between them. “I have eight pieces at the Blackwell Gallery on Columbus. Only a half dozen PIFA students were chosen.”

“What business courses are you taking?”

“None,” Justin replied curtly. His father’s face darkened. “…this semester,” he hedged trying to keep the whole thing from going south before their drinks even arrived.

Gratefully, their waiter returned with their drinks then. They each took a slow sip, supposedly savoring the liquor when really they were just drawing out the reprieve for as long as possible.

At the same time, Justin noticed a tall handsome man and his dinner companion rise from the table behind Craig. The man had bed-tousled hair and wore and impeccable Armani suit. When he turned, Justin noticed finely chiseled cheekbones, perfect olive-toned skin, and smoldering bedroom eyes. The stranger was sex on legs.

He deftly steered his blond partner past Justin’s table and Justin noticed the discreet, yet possessive, hand the dark-haired man had placed on the blond’s lower back.

Justin felt an odd sense of déjà vu as they brushed by.

Then the pair paused when a waiter laden with drinks blocked their exit.

The dark-haired man took the opportunity to step closer to the blond and said in a low, seductive voice, “After you sign the contract, I’m going to fuck you all night to celebrate our new partnership.”

Justin blushed slightly as his cock twitched in response to the intimate declaration.

Craig glowered at them. “Goddamn faggots,” he muttered.

Justin’s eyes widened as he saw the couple turn to their table and stare back at them. His face grew hotter as he stood. “As hard as I’m sure you’ve tried to forget, I’m still a goddamn faggot too, dad, and I see now you’re still a homophobic asshole.”

Craig grabbed his arm roughly. “Sit. Down. Don’t cause a scene,” he hissed.

Justin laughed sharply. “You already did.” He jerked his arm away and trailed behind the couple as they made their way out of the restaurant. He paused outside the doorway and lit a cigarette as he watched the handsome stranger walk across the street to the same hotel his father was staying in. He hoped they didn’t bump into each other again.

Then he walked down the street to his car, not realizing the brunette had stopped in the hotel entrance and was watching him.

That night, Justin had the first dream.

***

October 15, 1864

Justin crept slowly across the field, crouching low and stealing glances over his shoulder at the house. No one was following and he began to breath easier as he reached the small stream. He gingerly picked his way across the stones, sighing as the cool water soothed the scrapes on the bottoms of his bare feet. Picking his way through the weeds on the other side, he became frustrated until he felt the smooth dirt of the path finally. A few more yards and he broke out of the small crop of trees and the moonlight again led him along the edge of the encampment. Justin carefully skirted the rows of tents, ducking behind the horses as a few soldiers walked past to the stream. It was just a little further to the north end of the camp and then he would be in the Ellison’s grove of peach trees.

The trees’ dense foliage blotted out the moonlight again so he had to rely on his memory once more to find his way to the small clearing they had made during their previous encounters. Justin sat beneath the tree and drew his knees to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his legs to preserve what little warmth still remained as a cool breeze cut through his nightshirt. He’d held his vigil there every night for a fortnight as the regiments slowly trickled back to the field after the battle. Not knowing if his lover was alive was unbearable, but he could do nothing else but wait and hope.

As each hour passed, he became drowsier, struggling to remain alert. He feared if he fell asleep now he would not awake before sunrise and the punishment would be severe if he was caught sneaking back to the house. Regretfully, he stood, stretching his chilled limbs. His heart felt even heavier as once again he began his journey back to the plantation.

The smell hit him before he saw the glowing embers a few yards away. Tobacco. He shrank back against the tree, blood pounding in his ears as he struggled to listen for approaching footsteps. Could it be? Or was another soldier just restless? If someone else discovered him… Fear seized his chest and strangled the air from his lungs as he stumbled away. If he ran deeper into the grove… a root caught his ankle and he started to fall, but strong arms grabbed him and a frightened cry tore from his lips.

“Do not bolt, my wild young stallion,” a voice whispered, “you know your master.”

The voice was rougher, deeper than his lover’s, but the words were his.

“You’re alive!” Justin barely breathed, relief washing over him as he returned the embrace.

He felt whiskers rub against his cheek and he cupped the other man’s face, nuzzling his chin and savoring the new sensation. “You have a beard.” His fingers brushed over the man’s face and felt the long bangs brush his fingertips. “And your hair has grown. I wish I could see you!” His lips trailed urgent kisses over his lover’s face again and moved lower, nipping his adam’s apple as his fingers felt along the collar of the uniform for the first of the buttons to be undone. His lips and fingers discovered the bandage on the soldier’s neck at the same time. “You’re wounded,” he gasped.

The only reply was a searing kiss. Justin couldn’t resist the demanding tongue that brutally plundered his mouth—not that he ever wanted to. His night shirt was jerked up over his hips and two calloused hands roughly squeezed his exposed bottom. The onslaught of pleasure caused his knees to buckle and they sank to the ground.

His lover pulled away and undressed. Justin pulled his nightshirt over his head and used it to cushion his knees as he positioned himself on all fours, hoping the other man used enough spit to ease the penetration.

Gritting his teeth, he lowered his head to his forearms to hide any tears that escaped so his lover wouldn’t call him a skittish mare again like the first time. He now understood the pain was part it, punishment for the sin, and he accepted it because the pleasure that followed was like nothing else.

But suddenly he was rolled onto his back. Startled, he tried figure out what he’d done wrong and it took him a moment to notice that instead of the cold ground, he felt a blanket beneath him. They’d never had a blanket before. Then the other man lay on top of him, kissing his face and neck, the stubble making him shiver as it grazed his skin.

Justin’s legs were lifted and placed around the man’s hips and his lover slid inside him. He’d never been mounted this way before. Unsure what to do, Justin gripped the edges of the blanket and let himself be taken. He was grateful his lover had slicked himself well as the hard heat pushed into him, but yet he still felt a tear slide down his cheek and he turned his face away to hide his weakness. More tears splattered his neck and he was shocked to realize they weren’t his.

His lover’s lips smeared the wetness over his skin until they pressed against his ear. “I thought I would never feel such warmth again.”

Before Justin could respond, the man withdrew and plunged into him again, driving out breath and reason. All he could do was hang on for the ride, but it wasn’t long before he felt his lover shudder and spill his seed and he was releasing his as well. The other man collapsed on top of him and Justin held him tightly until the tears dried up and the trembling stopped.

Justin knew he needed to return to the house now before the others woke to begin the day, but his lover did not release him and he did not want to displace him. A few moments later, the soldier rolled off him and he was pulled back against the man’s chest, cradled against the larger body.

Confused, Justin lay still, wondering at the changes in his lover. They had never sought pleasure like that before, and they had never continued embracing after. Not that he didn’t want to, but his lover scoffed at his invitation before. His lover said they were not man and woman in a marriage bed.

“I must go,” Justin said reluctantly, unsure how to leave this man who had obviously changed so much from his experience at war. Justin’s heart ached for him. “But I will come again at nightfall,” he quickly added.

The other man took his hand, impeding their separation, and their fingers laced together. “We march to Atlanta at sunrise.”

“No!”

“Justin, wake up!”

“You can’t,” Justin mumbled, clutching Ethan tighter.

Ethan shook him again. “Come on, wake up.”

Justin’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared at his boyfriend, pulling away. “Ethan?”

Ethan laughed nervously. “Who else? You alright? You were having a nightmare or something.”

“Or something,” Justin muttered, noticing the wet stain on the front of his sweats. He rolled away from his boyfriend and Ethan spooned behind him. Despite himself, Justin had an overwhelming urge to push him away.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Ethan asked, hugging him tighter.

“I have a headache,” Justin lied, breaking free of the suffocating embrace. “I need some aspirin.”

“I’ll get you some.”

When Ethan disappeared into the bathroom, Justin quickly changed his sweats. Ethan returned before he could get back into bed.

“What are you doing?”

Justin pulled a spare blanket from the closet. “I don’t think I can go back to sleep, but I don’t want to disturb you. I’m just going to lie down on the sofa and watch TV for a while.”

Ethan frowned. “Do you want to talk about your dream?”

Justin shook his head. “I don’t really remember much. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. You need to get more sleep though so you can play brilliantly as usual tomorrow.” He left the room before Ethan could protest anymore.

Justin dug a sketchpad out of his backpack and settled on the couch. Moments later he heard Ethan snoring again. Relieved, Justin started sketching the orchard, trying to piece the strange dream back together.

He envisioned himself on the blanket with the solider and despite the darkness, he remembered the feel of his body and sketched the long limbs and lean torso effortlessly. But to his surprise, he could not recall the man’s face. He could still feel the beard against his cheek, and the shape of his jaw under his fingers, and the taste of his mouth, but the paper remained blank when he tried to recreate it.

***

December 16, 2002

“You look like shit,” Daphne said when she greeted him outside the gallery.

“Love you too,” Justin snapped back.

Truth was, he knew he looked like shit. He felt like shit. Since the first dream two nights ago, he’d been having one whenever he closed his eyes. Sleeping or not. This morning in the shower he would’ve sworn the other man, his dream lover, had been under the water with him, touching him. He could rationalize the dreams, they were JUST dreams, figments of his imagination, but how the fuck could he feel something that wasn’t there when he was fully awake? The only explanation was that he was losing his mind.

Daphne grabbed his arm. “Justin? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replied defensively. Shit, he didn’t need everyone thinking he was nuts.

“You can’t lie to me, Taylor. Spill.”

Justin winced as her nails dug into his arm. “Christ, cut the claws, would you? Alright. Let’s go get some coffee.”

“What about--” she nodded to the exhibition entrance.

“They aren’t going to miss me for a few minutes, it’s still early… besides, I think we should talk. It involves you too.”

***

Daphne sat back in her seat, staring at him incredulously. “So you’re telling me you’ve been dreaming you live on a plantation in Georgia during the Civil War… and I’m your slave?

“You’re in the house, not in the field,” Justin added quickly. “And you’re still my best friend.”

“Justin, how could you think--”

Okay, so Daphne wasn’t being as supportive as he hoped. “Look, I don’t have time for your oppressed peoples lecture right now. Daph, you know I love you and I would never--- fuck, the point is I keep dreaming about this guy. Some soldier that I’m totally in love with.”

Daphne frowned. “Justin, he’s a figment of your imagination.”

“I know,” Justin huffed. “I mean I’m in love with him in the dream. But it does seem so real. When I wake up I still feel him touching me. I’m still crying and my chest is so tight from worrying about him. Sometimes I think I’m going to suffocate.”

Daphne was silent for a moment, then asked, “What does Ethan think?”

Justin looked at his latte. “I haven’t told him. He already thinks I’m crazy for waking him up the other night, so I’ve been staying at my place.”

“I’m sure that went over well. How does he play when he can’t eat, sleep, and drink, his muse?” Daphne asked sarcastically.

Justin ignored the barb, he knew Daphne didn’t like Ethan, although he didn’t understand why. “It’s just until I figure out what’s going on or it stops.”

“I know how to make it stop. Dump him.”

Justin sighed. Jesus, at least she was usually more subtle. “Daph--”

“No, Justin, listen to me. I don’t know why you’re with him, but I know you’re not happy.”

“I am too!”

Daphne waved a dismissive hand at him. “Not as happy as you were when you were with that other guy last year. What was his name? The older guy, tall, black hair, green eyes. A successful business man. What the hell was wrong with him anyway? He was perfect. You were perfect together.”

Justin frowned. He remembered Dan. Thought about him a lot actually. And he had seemed perfect, but something just wasn’t… right. He never could put his finger on it, but he had to break it off.

“I have more in common with Ethan,” Justin lied. “He’s more romantic. And we share the same passion for our art. We understand each other and he gives me what I need.”

Daphne snorted. “Maybe what you want, what you think you want,” she amended, “but not what you need. It’s obvious these dreams are trying to tell you something. Something about the kind of man you really need to be with.”

“A dead war hero?”

Daphne shrugged, absently stirring her cocoa for a moment. “Have you considered maybe it is real?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, like a past life or something. There’s that drag queen who reads tarot cards at Woody’s… Mysterious Marilyn. We could go see her. Ask if she knows--”

“No fucking way!” Justin hissed. “It’s just a bunch of bullshit.”

But he could still see the wheels in Daphne’s mind turning. “Okay, but just humor me,” she said. “Tell me everything you remember and I’ll look it up at the library. If I find anything that’s true, we’ll know it’s real and we’ll figure out how to deal with it.”

“It’s. Not. Real.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Daphne agreed, but he could tell she was just trying to placate him. “So when I don’t find anything, your mind will be put to rest, and the dreams will probably stop.”

Fuck. That made sense. At least it was worth a shot. “I don’t remember much actually, just feelings, some I can draw, like his body, but I never see his face, and I don’t know, or don’t remember, his name.”

Daphne frowned. “Anything about where you lived? It must be near Atlanta.”

“There’s an orchard on the other side of our land. Peaches. Henry Ellison owned it.”

Daphne went to the counter and got a pen. She jotted down the name on her napkin. “Well, it’s not much, but it’s a start.”

My wild young stallion.

“Horses,” Justin blurted. “He was in Company A of the 16th Illinois Cavalry Regiment…Wilson’s Dragoons.”

Daphne nodded excitedly. “Good. I’ll search the internet and see if I can find some records for them around the burning of Atlanta… 1864, I think. Maybe if I can find a list of names, you’ll recognize one.”

A chill passed through Justin. He was afraid he might.

Daphne stood. “You better get to the gallery before your adoring fans miss you. Maybe you’ll sell something!”

Justin shrugged, trying to muster some enthusiasm again. “Maybe.”

“Is your dad coming? How was dinner the other night? I totally forgot--”

“He’s not coming,” Justin said bluntly. He really didn’t want to get into that right now too. He’d spent all day yesterday avoiding his mother and Ethan because of what happened at dinner. Until he could figure out what to do about his dad and Christmas, for Molly’s sake if nothing else, he didn’t want to talk about it.

Gratefully, Daphne accurately read his mood and just squeezed his arm reassuringly as they walked back around the corner to Blackwell’s. “I saw your mom at--” she started to change the subject, but she suddenly did a double take at the couple standing in front of the gallery doors. “Is that uh… what’s his name—Dan?”

Surprised, Justin glanced at the crowd on the steps, but didn’t see him. “Where?”

“Just went inside, but it wasn’t him. This guy’s hair was lighter, and honestly, he was hotter. Way hotter. Like just-fucked-my-brains-out hot.”

Justin suddenly remembered the guy from the restaurant. He sort of looked like Dan. That was why Justin was attracted to him! And he was totally like Daphne just described. Shit, was it him? Where was he?

“I just thought it was Dan because he was with a blond guy, sort of looked like you. Talk about déjà vu.”

***

December 17th, 2002

“Justin, it’s Marcus, great news, my man, call me as soon as you can.” Justin hit the star key and his phone skipped to the next message. “Justin, I talked to your father,” his mother said tersely. “I want you to come over for dinner tonight and we are going to talk.” Justin deleted her message and called the gallery manager back.

“Marcus, it’s Justin Taylor.”

“Justin, my man, great news! Your ‘Blue Oranges’ painting sold this morning. And the buyer wants to see more. He was talking about a special commission for his offices in New York.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I never kid about money, kid, or talent. I knew you were something else. Come by my office when you can and I’ll give you your check, and the buyer’s contact information. He’ll be in Pittsburgh until the 26th, but you don’t want to miss him if he’s gonna be tied up with holiday horrors next week so don’t wait to talk to him. Just my advice, J.”

“I understand. And thank you. Um… I have to work this afternoon, and then I have dinner plans... how about tomorrow morning?”

“Sure, I’ll have Kathy put you on my calendar at, say, 10:00?”

“I’ll be there. Thanks.”

***

Justin let himself into his mother’s house and found his mom and dad sitting in the living room. “Where’s Molly?”

“She went Christmas shopping with Jordan and her mother and then they’re going out for dinner,” Jennifer replied.

“What is he doing here?” Justin asked.

Jennifer squared her shoulders. “I invited him.”

Craig stood. “I’m not staying. Your mother and I have been talking about your tuition, but if you insist on this ridiculous art degree, I will not throw my money away.”

Justin shrugged. “I’m not asking you to.”

Craig glared at him before grabbing his coat and storming out.

“See you at Christmas,” Justin called after him.

“Justin,” his mother sighed heavily. “You need his help. Would it kill you to take a few business classes to make him happy?”

“Frankly, yes. Mom, I don’t need his help. It’s taken care of.”

“I know you think working--”

Justin’s phone started ringing and he gratefully pulled it out of his pocket. Daphne. “Hey.”

“Hey. I found some stuff on your mystery man. Want to come over?”

Justin’s chest tightened. “Yeah. I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and kissed his mother’s cheek. “I gotta go, mom, Daph needs me. I’ll call you in a couple days about Christmas dinner. Ethan is really excited to meet dad.”

Jennifer just pursed her lips together and let him go.

***

“It was so easy,” Daphne gushed when she let him into her apartment. “I thought I might have to go to the library and order copies of the records, but they’re all online. At least for your boyfriend’s troop.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Justin huffed. Despite what his subconscious thought.

Daphne rolled her eyes and sat down at the computer. “Look here. The 16th Calvalry went to Atlanta during the first campaign in the summer of 1864.”

“That’s not right. It was fall when I dreamed he was going.”

“Right. Sherman burned Atlanta in late November, so your… friend probably had orders to go back, but instead, according to these battle records, Company A was redeployed to Franklin, Tennessee, November 30, 1864.”

“So?”

“A lot of them…died. What was left was reorganized into Company B, January 12, 1865.” She clicked open another site and stood. “Here’s the roster for Company A. See if you recognize his name.”

Justin took a deep breath and sat down. The site listed each man’s name, rank, residence, enlistment date, and ‘remarks’, such as discharged, deserted, transferred, or killed. Justin ignored the last column and started reading the names out loud.

“Charles Adams, Charles Allshop, Edward Althaus, Henry Asmus, Frederick Baasch…” He slowly worked his way down the list, but nothing seemed familiar until he reached the middle of the alphabet. “John Juter, Theodore Kluge, Aidan Kelly, Brian Kelly, Tom—oh god. It’s him.”

“Tom? Tom what?” Daphne asked peering over his shoulder.

“No, Brian. Brian Kelly,” Justin whispered in awe.

“He was a Captain,” Daphne read. She tapped the next column. “Lived in Chicago. Enlisted September 27th, 1862.” Then simply, “Oh.”

Justin knew then, and his blood ran cold. He glanced where her finger had been following along the screen. “Killed November 30, 1864. Franklin, Tennessee,” he read softly before the screen blurred from his tears.

Daphne hugged him from behind, rocking him back and forth. “I’m sorry,” she said into his hair, squeezing him harder. “I’m so fucking sorry, I never should’ve… it’s not real, it’s not real…”

Justin wiped his eyes. “Right,” he said shakily. “Jesus, look what you started with this past life shit.”

Daphne tried to smile, play it up as a gag. “Hey, I knew I could get you to believe it. You’re such a dork. A couple of coincidences and you’re blubbering like some nelly queen.” She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. "Damn allergies," she muttered, beating him to his own line, and they both laughed.

Justin turned his back to the computer screen. Even though it was just a… a coincidence, right, he couldn’t look at it anymore.

“You eat yet?” Daphne asked.

Justin shook his head.

“Let’s go out,” she suggested and he readily agreed.

***

Later that night, Justin returned to his own apartment and nervously paced around the bed. He was exhausted. Although he’d been sleeping plenty the last few nights, he hadn’t really been resting because he’d been, well, dream-fucking all night. But despite how tired he was, he didn’t want to go to sleep now. He dreaded closing his eyes.

After dinner he and Daphne went to a movie and he’d spent the last few hours rerunning his dreams through his head because one thing suddenly didn’t make sense. Or it did, but it hadn’t occurred to him before. He wondered why his latest dreams hadn’t gone beyond that last meeting in the peach grove. All of his other dreams after that first dream three nights ago were memories of events before Brian said he was leaving for Atlanta and now he knew why. His subconscious, or his heart, had been trying to protect him--itself--from remembering there weren’t anymore meetings in the grove.

***

January 18, 1865

A soft tapping woke Justin from his sleep. He rolled over, unaware of what the noise had been and started to drift back to sleep, but there was another tap. Justin sat up, blinking in the dark. What the—

He wasn’t in his apartment in Pittsburgh.

Then he remembered.

Justin scrambled across the bed and ran to the window, but Brian was gone.

Justin bolted from his room and down the stairs. He was outside, running across the snow-covered porch, before he remembered he was barefoot. Grabbing the rail to steady himself across the ice, he hurried to the far end near his room. He could see the rocks Brian had pitched at his window lying discarded in the snow. And Brian’s footsteps, two sets, approach and retreat.

Justin’s eyes strained to see any movement in the dark. “Brian,” he whispered as loud as he dare. “Brian,” he called again, a little louder. He was about to jump over the railing and run after him, at least as far as he could see in the moonlight, when he thought he saw movement near the stable. “Brian, come back. Please!” he cried, not caring anymore if he woke everyone.

“You’ll wake the dead, carrying on like that,” Brian replied from the shadows.

Justin ran around the porch and met him as he walked slowly up the steps. The man’s coat was too light for the unexpected snow and cold and he trembled visibly. “If you freeze to death now, I’ll be much worse,” Justin threatened. “Come inside.”

Brian reluctantly let himself be led indoors, but hesitated inside the foyer. “I should not have come.”

“Would you have let me think you died instead?” Justin asked angrily. “I thought…your men...”

“Many are dead. Including Aidan.”

Brian’s cousin. He had forgotten Brian’s cousin. Justin’s head was spinning. Why was he remembering now?

“I should be,” Brian said quietly.

His leg. He thought he was only half a man after he was discharged. “You are injured, but not dead,” Justin replied fiercely.

“You do not know--”

“It does not matter!” Justin took his hand and their fingers automatically laced together. “Come upstairs and rest.”

“Your father--”

Justin laughed bitterly. His father was an asshole in every lifetime. “He will not know,” Justin assured him. Because we will be gone in the morning. But he didn’t say it out loud because Brian had yet to tell him his plans.

Justin led Brian upstairs to his room. He carefully helped the man undress until he stood only in his underclothes and pulled back the quilts covering the large feather bed. Brian gasped when he felt the heavy blankets. “I thought the occupation--”

Justin kissed his cheek. He knew Brian regretted his men ransacking their home. “Mother hid what she could. And she made new ones from old scraps. We are warm enough.” He gave Brian a nudge. “Get in.”

Brian groaned as he settled in. “I have not slept in a real bed since I left home.”

Justin lay down beside him. “We have not slept in a real bed together.”

Some life seemed to return to the other man as he chuckled and rolled to his side to wrap his arms around Justin. “I do not believe you mean sleep.”

Justin smiled against his neck, his hand boldly reaching into Brian’s undergarments. He stroked the growing shaft as Brian in turn kneaded his bottom through his nightshirt. Despite the long separation, neither man felt a need to hurry this coupling as before. Their kisses were soft and languid. Their hands were reverent.

Finally, Justin needed more and sensed Brian’s same desire. He slid further under the covers and wet Brian’s cock with his mouth. As much as he longed to remain there suckling the shaft dry, he needed to feel his lover inside him more. Justin reemerged from the warm cocoon and pushed the blankets back. He drew his shirt up over his hips and straddled Brian’s groin.

“You mean to ride me, little one?” Brian asked huskily.

Justin took hold of Brian’s cock and positioned it at his entrance. “Yessss,” he hissed as he slid down the hard pole.

Brian’s sure hands stroked his hips as if he was soothing a spooked horse. “Breathe,” he commanded.

Justin struggled to relax and took deep quaking breaths until the pain receded. Eventually he leaned forward and pressed his hands to Brian’s chest for balance as he began to rock back and forth. The pleasure quickly spread through him and he gained momentum, thrusting harder.

In turn, Brian could not use his legs to thrust back so he settled on his arms to aid him. He held Justin’s hips in a tight grip, pulling and pushing him up and down. As they neared the end, one hand involuntarily slapped Justin’s rump several times to drive him harder.

The sharp sting of Brian’s hand on his ass made Justin near delirious for release. He rocked back hard, taking Brian as deep as possible, and roughly tugged on his dick. The sudden stimulation pushed him over the edge and he spilled his seed over his lover’s chest. As the tremors passed, he felt Brian’s fingers dig painfully into his flesh as the other man writhed beneath him and a flood of wet heat filled him.

Justin barely managed to crawl off of the other man before he collapsed. Brian gathered him in his arms again and brushed soothing kisses against his damp temple. “You are a master horseman.”

Justin sighed contently, his fingers twining in Brian’s hair. “I had excellent instruction,” he murmured as his eyes drifted closed.

Hours later, Justin woke with a start and saw the first rays of daylight shining into the room. “Brian, wake up!” he cried. They would be discovered. He rolled over and saw the other side of the bed was empty.

He was alone in Pittsburgh.

***

“’Lo,” Daphne muttered sleepily.

“He’s alive,” Justin shouted excitedly into the phone. “I mean, he didn’t die. Look at the roster again. They mixed up the records. Aidan died in Franklin. Brian got a disability discharge. He came to the plantation to take me west with him and we went to Wyoming. We had a gold mine in South Pass City. I remember everything!”

“Wha--”

“They’re not just dreams anymore, Daph, it’s like interactive memory. I’m ME back then. And I remember. Now and then. I can’t change things, I can’t say or do anything different, it’s like my brain is stuck in another body I can’t control, but it’s cool because I know what’s going to happen and it was so fucking good. We were happy. Really happy.”

He heard Daphne yawn loudly on the other end of the line before she asked, “So now what?”

***

December 20, 2002

Justin lay in the dark and let the phone ring until his voice mail answered. He watched the red embers of his cigarette slowly burn down to his fingers before he flicked the ashes at the end table, unconcerned whether they landed in the ashtray or not.

Some time later, he was still sprawled across the sofa, eyes following wide paint swirls on the ceiling, when there was a knock at the door. Justin didn’t bother to answer it and assumed they would go away.

After a moment, a key turned in the lock and he saw Daphne’s shadow move inside the doorway. “Go away, Daph.”

“Nuh-uh,” she scoffed, hauling a large bag of groceries to the kitchen. She reappeared a few seconds later and slapped his feet off the sofa so she could sit down. “What’s up?”

Justin rolled to his side and sat up. He reached for the joint sitting on the end table, but Daphne snagged it first, holding it out of his reach.

“What is going on with you?” she asked again. “I thought you had that meeting with Mr. Big Shot from New York. You were supposed to call me yesterday, asshole.”

“Nothing to tell,” Justin droned with a shrug.

“Did you meet him?”

“No.”

Obviously not the answer she wanted to hear by the look on her face, but she seemed relieved he was at least talking so she settled back against the arm of the sofa and flung her legs across his lap and lit the joint. “Why not?” she asked, holding the joint just beyond his reach like a dangling carrot.

Justin lunged and snatched the joint from her fingers. He leaned back against the other arm of the sofa and threw his legs over hers. They wrestled for a moment until they were comfortable and he took a drag. “Met my dad instead,” he replied before exhaling.

“Shit,” Daphne muttered, taking a hit herself.

Justin nodded solemnly and leaned his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. He could still see the look of contempt on his father’s face when he accused Justin of being a whore.

“Justin,” Daphne nudged his hip with her foot, “what happened?”

“Brian is staying--”

“His name is Brian?” Daphne interrupted.

Justin glared at her. “Don’t start.” He didn’t want to be thinking about that right now too.

But of course, Daphne wouldn’t let it go, which was why he’d been avoiding her for the last couple of days.

She held up her hands in surrender. “I just think it’s an odd coincidence. You’re the one making more of this--”

“Fuck you,” he suddenly shouted. “You don’t have all this shit floating around in your head!”

“No, I don’t,” she conceded, “but two days ago, you were the happiest gay boy on the planet and now you’re just being a big drama queen. Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing,” he spat. “Nothing happened. Nothing’s going to happen. It’s all in my fucking head, but that’s it. It’s over. He’s gone. Why the fuck am I remembering this shit now when I can’t do anything… I can’t have him.”

After finally remembering what he had, he now remembered what he didn’t.

“Justin--”

“You asked,” he reminded her angrily. “You asked ‘what now’. Well, this is it.”

“No, it’s not,” she shot back. “I’m sorry it sucks right now, but I’m sure there’s a reason.”

“Daph--” he warned.

“Shut up. Look, I still believe it’s a sign for your future. If nothing else, it means Ethan is not the guy for you!”

“Jesus,” he muttered, holding his head.

“Come on,” she taunted. “Do you really have any interest in Ethan right now? When was the last time you saw him, let alone fucked him? Justin, you’re in love with someone else, regardless of whether he’s alive or not. And I think he is. I think you were together back then and you’re remembering it because you’re supposed to be together now. Part of you is trying to find your way.”

“That is such shit.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Fine, but putting Brian aside, really dig deep and look at your feelings. Can you honestly say you love Ethan?”

Justin looked away and they both knew the answer.

“Justin--”

“I know… I’ll talk to him. It’s just…” he shook his head. “This is so fucked.”

Daphne discarded the joint that had long since gone out. “Instead of dwelling on it anymore, tell me about this other Brian.”

Justin grimaced. “Yeah, that’s much better.”

“I don’t get it. I thought he liked your work and--”

“It wasn’t him,” Justin reminded her, “I didn’t even see him, and then I ran into my dad.”

“How did you run into your dad?”

“They’re staying in the same hotel. The same floor actually.”

Daphne wrinkled her nose. “So?”

Justin stood. “You bring beer?”

Daphne nodded. “And pizza.”

Justin went to the kitchen and got two beers. When he came back, he sat down and continued, “I sort—we, dad and I, sort of met Brian the night we tried to have dinner together.”

Daphne gasped. “He’s the hot guy your dad insulted?”

Justin nodded.

“Holy shit,” Daphne squealed.

Justin winced and rubbed his ear.

“So what happened yesterday?”

“I was supposed to meet Brian in the hotel bar, but he didn’t show so I asked the lady at the desk to leave him a message. My dad happened to come along and overheard me. Turns out he and Brian have been having little blow ups all week since they ran into each other again in the hotel. So dad demanded to know what I was doing there and I told him to mind his own business. From that he jumped to his own conclusions. Turns out Brian has been running through a steady stream of young blond tricks and dad assumed I was another one. I don’t know why, but I tried to explain it was a business meeting, that Brian wanted to buy some of my paintings, and Dad actually fucking accused me of lying to hide that I was selling myself!”

Daphne’s mouth gaped open. “I can’t believe your dad is such an asshole!”

Justin took a long swallow of his beer. “I know he never thought I had any talent,” he replied bitterly, “but I never realized he thought so little of me as a person. I mean, yeah he’s a homophobic prick, but I can’t believe he thinks I’d peddle my ass for any reason!”

Daphne gave him a crooked smile. “Well, there was that short stint as a go-go boy.”

“Don’t remind me,” Justin groaned. “I can’t believe I was so naïve I actually thought they just danced.”

Daphne laughed and went to get another beer. “So what are you going to do about breathing Brian?”

“Funny,” he muttered. “He called back… I think.” He hadn’t checked his messages since yesterday. “I guess I should try and get together with him again.”

“Yes,” Daphne happily agreed.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Justin grumbled.

“Hey, I just meant you need to concentrate on the positive right now and this guy buying some of your stuff is huge. Be happy for yourself.”

Justin nodded slowly. “You’re right. I deserve this. And if it works out, I should make enough to pay for school without taking another job.” He met her gaze, his face determined. “This is what’s important so I need to focus.”

***

But saying he would focus, and managing to do so were two very different tasks. As had been the case for the past week, Justin found his mind wandering to his dream lover and he struggled harder and harder to control the flood of memories.

Through the many years that he had lived with Brian, they had experienced their share of difficulty, most of which was Brian’s doing. He was a stubborn man and Justin sometimes marveled that he fell in love with him at all. Of course, it was the dire circumstances of the war and Brian’s honorable behavior toward Justin’s family, despite them being the enemy, that had captured his heart at the time, but under different circumstances Justin wondered if the outcome would have been the same.

But Justin also knew that some of Brian’s attitude was brought on by experiences in war that he could not begin to comprehend so he allowed the other man a certain amount of latitude. Besides, Justin was in no way mistreated or unhappy, it was quite the opposite. He just wished a few things had been different. If he had behaved differently perhaps he would’ve achieved a few more of things he desired to do in his lifetime.

Justin easily understood and shared Brian’s desire to leave the war torn Union and strike out into the new territory. Justin’s father was a tyrannical slave owner and Justin did not relish the upheaval the plantation would ultimately face at the impending loss to the North, so when Brian arrived once more with plans to go west, and an invitation to join him, Justin readily agreed. After their first night together under a roof, after certain promises had been made in the quiet dark, they slipped away before dawn and left their previous lives behind.

Brian had heard of mining prospects in the Wyoming territory and he planned to quickly amass his fortune so they would never be in need of a warm comfortable bed again. South Pass City was a small mining community, just beginning to boom, and they managed to mine their share of gold before the Shoshone Indians started causing uprisings over land rights. A new treaty was renegotiated and Chief Washakie agreed to sell the portion of the Wind River Reservation land used for mining, but by that time the mines were emptied and more settlers were arriving to find their fortune.

Despite the military presence at Camp Brown, Brian liked the area and wanted to stay so the men moved to the Lander Valley where a new settlement was emerging. The town of Lander was also growing quickly and Brian was disgruntled but unwilling to seek out a new area so they settled a homestead further outside the town and remained there until the end of their lives.

Somehow they managed to survive the violent range wars that erupted, and the severe weather that sometimes destroyed other ranches over the years. And they successfully avoided the rise of the railroad, to Justin’s dismay. When he wanted to visit burgeoning cities like Cheyenne and Laramie, Brian would have no part of it. And they never returned East, even just to visit.

But Justin still had a fulfilling life. Surprisingly, he developed an equally passionate love for horses that he could share with Brian. He discovered he was naturally gifted as a healer with local plants, and he spent several decades teaching in the schoolhouse.

On the other hand, Brian’s purpose in life was simply to protect Justin and their home and for that reason alone Justin couldn’t have loved him more.

Which brought Justin back to the dilemma at hand. It was impossible not to love Brian even now, no matter how hard he tried. However, since realizing he had lived in a past life, he had also discovered that with that knowledge came the freedom to somewhat control the dreams that came to him now. He couldn’t make them stop completely, but he was able to choose the scenes.

Ironically, Justin found the scenes he chose to remember most often were the ones where Brian tried to recreate the beginning for them, his own favorite memories.

***

June 21, 1875

“Brian!” Justin called, running along the river bank. “Brian!”

He didn’t bother dispensing with the rest of his clothes and waded into the water where Brian had just been. Now panicking, Justin dove under and tried to see where Brian was. He’d been worried Brian’s leg would cramp because the river was colder than usual, but the older man hadn’t listened, and now he was drowning!

Just as Justin broke the surface for a breath, he was suddenly yanked back under. He came up again a moment later, sputtering for air and trying to clear the water from his lungs. A pair of arms wrapped around his waist and held him afloat while a deep rumbling laugh reverberated against his neck and down his spine.

“The water is not that cold,” Brian teased, tugging on Justin’s wet underclothes.

“I thought you were lost!” Justin cried indignantly.

“You will not be rid of me so easily,” Brian assured him. “But I could not wait any longer, you move slow as an old woman some days,” he added, impatiently removing the soaked clothes.

Justin’s undergarments were tossed to the bank and they quickly cleansed each other of the trail dust from riding all afternoon. This was their favorite mountain hideaway when weather permitted.

Soon they were stretched out on the grassy bank, letting the sun dry any droplets their hands and tongues didn’t get to. Brian eventually stretched out on his back and Justin lay on top of him, head facing toes. The leisurely suckled each other to release and then lightly dozed for a short while.

When they woke, the stars were out and a light breeze rustled the leaves around them. For a moment, Justin thought they were in the grove back home, the first time they found each other. As did Brian. Before releasing him to start the fire and cook some dinner, Brian held Justin tightly against his chest and murmured, “You smell like peaches.”

***

December 22, 2002

Justin gathered his portfolio for his meeting with Brian Kinney and set it on the table with the instructions to the restaurant Brian had picked for their meeting. It was supposed to be the best Italian restaurant in town, Brian's way of making up for missing their first appointment.

Next to the sketches he had chosen to show the man, were the piles of more recent drawings he hadn't shown anyone. Pictures of the grove, the ranch, the river... pieces of his dreams he managed to recapture, but one thing was still always missing. Despite seeing his lover's face so clearly in the dreams now, whenever Justin tried to recall it in the present, Brian's eyes eluded him.

***

Justin was being punished for losing the race back to ranch. Brian had him on all fours in the stable, riding him hard and fast until his knees were raw and he collapsed into the hay. But Brian wouldn't relent; they were too close to the edge. The man fell on top of Justin and only slowed the rhythm of his thrusts long enough to shift them to their sides, hooking one arm under Justin's top leg to keep him open for more.

Justin shouted Brian's name as each stroke pummeled the most sensitive nerves with renewed vigor.

"Justin. Wake up."

Justin's eyes flew open and he saw Ethan hovering over him.

Shit. Justin bolted upright on the sofa where he'd nodded off. What time was it? How long had he been asleep? Did he miss his meeting with--

"Who the fuck is Brian?" Ethan demanded.

***

An hour later, Justin tried to concentrate on what Brian was saying as he offered Justin another glass of wine. Justin nodded and again thought it might have been wiser to cancel the meeting after his break up with Ethan. It had been an ugly fight, ultimately ending with Ethan throwing Justin's key at him and storming out-- of course after Justin was once again accused of sleeping with the man sitting across the table from him.

But right now that was the furthest thing from his mind. He pushed Ethan, his father, and his dead lover from his mind and focused on Brian Kinney's generous offer to create a series of paintings, six to eight pieces, for his New York office.

Brian tapped a photograph of one of Justin's paintings at the PIFA student gallery. "I thought I wanted something like the agit prop triptych I saw at Blackwell's, but I think I like this style more." He arched an eyebrow. "Was this your angry phase?"

Justin felt a blush warm his face. The painting was angry, a lot of red and black bleeding over the canvas, and he'd always thought it was rather amateurish, especially when people recognized it so easily. "My father brings out the best," he joked half-heartedly before realizing his error. Brian had not shown any sign of recognizing him from their first meeting and he did not wish to cause him to now.

But Brian simply closed the book and nodded. "Living with mine was a fate worse than birth." His long fingers tapped a short rhythm on the linen covered table for a moment as he studied Justin. "Do you have anything else to show me?"

Justin thought of the sketches still on the table at home and then shook his head. "No, I'm not--"

"I want to see what you're working on now. If I like anything, it would help you get a head start."

Justin squirmed a little. "What about the painting you have already? Would you be interested in a series on that theme?"

"No," Brian replied brusquely. "That one is just for me." Brian signaled for the waiter to bring their check. "Show me what else you have," he said again, though this time his tone was implying things beyond art.

Justin slowly nodded. He couldn't deny he was attracted to the other man. He could still feel Brian's touch when they shook hands earlier. But Justin was also aware of Brian's taste in blonds and he did not intend to become another notch on the man's bed post if it put their deal in jeopardy. Or if it had any bearing on him getting the commission. "Mr. Kinney--"

Brian stood, gesturing for Justin to lead them out. "Mr. Taylor."

Brian's hand was on his lower back, guiding him as he walked. An electrical current sizzled from his spine to the base of his skull where his other thoughts were erased and an overwhelming urge to feel Brian's hand on his bare skin took over.

When they were outside, the valet hailed them a cab and Brian stood a few steps closer to Justin, turning his body to block the cutting wind that had been whipping across Justin's face.

Justin looked up with a grateful smile and found himself just inches from Brian's face. But instead of kissing him, Brian's lips brushed his ear. "I--"

Suddenly Brian straightened and looked around, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Do you smell that?" he asked.

"What?" Justin asked in surprise.

"I don't know..." Brian’s eyes searched his for a moment and then he raised his hand and tentatively brushed his fingers through Justin's hair. "It was like ice cream--"

Justin laughed. "No mystery there, Baskin Robbins is around--"

"and peach cobbler."

Justin recoiled as if he'd been slapped.

"Justin?"

"I- I don't feel very well," he mumbled, evading Brian's touch when he reached for him again.

Brian let his hand fall. "Here's the cab, let me take you home--"

"No, no, it's out of your way, I'll be fine." Justin slipped into the cab and started pulling the door shut behind him.

"Justin," Brian grabbed the door to stop him. "I'll call you tomorrow about the paintings. I want to finalize a deal before I leave on Friday."

Justin nodded and gave the driver his address.

Brian could only shut the door and stand back as they pulled away.

***

Justin went straight to the cabinet under the sink and pulled out the bottle of Jack Daniels. He skipped the coke and just poured himself a glass.

He wasn't even trying to process what had happened. It wasn't possible so he wasn't even thinking about.

He quickly downed the glass and poured another as he waited for the burning to recede. Taking the bottle with him, he collapsed on the couch and drank the second glass. He felt like he was on fire and ditched the glass to just drink directly from the bottle.

Suddenly he wondered if just passing out from being shit-faced drunk would stop the dreams. Why hadn't he thought of it before?

***

Justin woke when Brian Kinney kissed him. He felt the warm breath against his cheek and then soft lips brushed over his jaw, then his cheek, and finally his lips.

Justin gaped at him for a moment and then pushed him away. "What are you doing?"

Brian smirked at him. "Exactly what you wanted. What's the problem?"

"How did-- how did you find me?" Justin stammered. "How did you get in?"

Brian shrugged and picked up the now empty bottle of whiskey. "Got anymore?"

"You followed me!" Justin accused.

Brian raised an eyebrow. "I suppose that would've been the chivalrous thing to do, make sure you arrived safely on your doorstep, but no. I don't give a shit actually, so don’t think I’m stalking your ass. I could just get another anytime."

"Then why are you here?" Justin huffed. "You broke into my apartment and--"

Brian leaned against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. "You tell me, it's your dream."

Justin gaped at him. “What?”

“Your. Dream.” Brian repeated slowly. “I’m just along for the ride.” He yanked his shirt up over his head and let it drop to the floor. “So let’s get on with it,” he said as he unbuttoned his jeans.

“Stop!” Justin held up his hands. “If this is my dream I should have some fucking control here.”

Brian snorted. “I think we’ve established you don’t after your drama princess moment on the street earlier.”

“Fuck you,” Justin grumbled. “You don’t know what it’s like having these dreams and--”

“You don’t know what I know,” Brian countered sharply.

Shit. Justin hadn’t thought of that. What if Brian was having the same--

“This is making my dick soft. Moving on,” Brian ordered.

Suddenly Justin was lying on his bed. He was naked on his belly as Brian slid up over his back and the friction of their skin rubbing together made him moan.

“Much better,” Brian whispered in his ear.

Justin felt his tongue tease along his earlobe and he bit back another moan. “Oh, what—I don’t--” Brian rocked his hips a little and Justin gasped. Besides Brian’s cock nudging between his cheeks, the other man’s weight and heat seemed to envelop him and he felt safely cocooned away from everything else.

No, it wasn’t right. It wasn’t real and it wouldn’t solve anything. This Brian was not his Brian. His mind was just playing tricks on him because he wanted—no, it wasn’t possible.

Justin tried to wiggle out from under him. “Let me go.”

“Can’t,” Brian murmured against his hair.

Justin felt Brian’s fingers rake through his hair and Justin realized what was really going on.

“I’m going to fuck you all night. And in the morning--”

“I’ll just be another discarded trick,” Justin spat. “I know all about your fetish for blond boy ass--”

Brian roughly flipped him over so they were face to face. His fingers were still in Justin’s hair, but they tightened painfully to hold him still. “You twat,” he growled. “How else was I going to find you?”

Justin’s eyes widened. He stared back at the other man and then he saw it. Something in Brian’s eyes flickered and he knew. “Brian,” he gasped. Suddenly his fingers were tracing every line and curve, memorizing every inch, so he wouldn’t forget this time. And he never broke their gaze. He was afraid if he looked away he would lose him again.

“In the morning,” Brian repeated, “you are going to call me and dutifully kiss my ass for leaving me standing on the curb with a hard-on. Then you are going to invite me over to see the rest of your stuff that wasn’t in the portfolio.”

“Then what?”

Brian smirked. “Then I’m going to fuck you again.”

“What about…us?”

“What about us? We don’t exist.”

“Don’t say that! God, I can’t do this any—you can’t leave me again.”

“Hey,” Brian rubbed his thumb along Justin’s cheek, back and forth, to soothe him, “calm down, Princess, don’t queen out on me now.”

Suddenly Justin was back in the living room. Brian stood beside him and pointed to the sofa. There Justin—he--was still asleep. “I meant you and I,” he gestured to them standing, “are subconscious, we don’t really exist except now,” Brian explained. “But you,” he pointed to the sofa, “and I, the lump asleep at the Clarion, are real. Understand?”

Justin nodded, surprised he actually did.

“Good.”

Justin blinked and he was back in bed, his legs over Brian’s shoulders. “How do you do that?” he gasped. He felt a little dizzy.

Brian shrugged. “It’s just what I do best. Lube?”

“Nightstand—wait. You still haven’t answered me. What’s going to happen to us? I mean that us,” he clarified, waving toward the living room.

“How the fuck should I know,” Brian snapped impatiently. “I was still buried until you brought me here. You’re the one who wiggled free first so what do you plan to do?”

“Can’t you just make him remember?” Justin huffed.

Brian just stared at him blankly. “That didn’t make any sense. ‘Him’ who?”

“What?” Justin was just as confused now, but then it came to him somehow and he understood. Christ, trying to communicate with a buried subconscious was a real pain in the ass—and not in a good way. “Can’t you make you remember?” he clarified.

Brian nodded that he understood now. “I don’t want to.”

Justin glared at him. “You don’t want to make you remember, or you just don’t want to remember?”

“I don’t want to remember.”

Justin couldn’t control the pain that unexpectedly ripped through his chest and made his eyes fill with tears. “Why not?”

Brian let his legs slide down and brushed away a tear that ran down his cheek. “Because of this. Who wants to deal with pain when you can have nothing but pleasure?”

“B-but what about the blond tricks and smelling the peaches? You remember some things! And you bought my painting--”

“Don’t forget the sketch of our hands.”

Justin’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“The first sketch you sold at the GLC a couple years ago. I bought it. I didn’t know why, but I had to have it. Because it was our hands.”

“I—“ Justin swallowed hard, his mind racing again. “I guess it was. I didn’t know it then, the picture just came to me and I had to draw it.” He smiled at the memory. “I never knew who bought it, but I got my first fake I.D. with the money.”

“I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t understand either. I just took it home and put it in the closet. Eventually, I forgot about it and you. I didn’t realize you were the same artist when I bought your painting last week. It was just the same… urge. I had to have it. And I had to have more.”

“See? You do remember! That can’t all just be coincidence.”

Brian sighed, dropping his forehead to Justin’s. “I remember some. I can’t help it. Your will was always stronger than mine.”

“Because I love you, and you love me too,” Justin challenged defiantly.

“Yes,” Brian breathed softly against his ear, “but don’t expect me to say it out loud.”

Justin smiled wanly. “You never would.”

Brian’s lips brushed against his neck, and long fingers lightly brushed over his shoulders and collarbone. Large warm palms flattened against his chest and rubbed over his skin. His blunt nails scratched roughly over Justin’s nipples and he panted, “Brian… the--”

“No,” Brian replied gruffly. “No more talking.” He rolled the little peaks between his fingers and Justin groaned, “Lube…”

That got Brian’s attention. “Where?”

“Nightstand… on your right…top drawer.”

Brian reached into the drawer and felt around. “Condoms here too?”

“Yeah, but… do we need one?”

Brian’s face turned to stone. “You want me to fuck you raw?”

Justin nodded nervously. What was the big deal?

“Not in this lifetime,” Brian barked.

Justin grimaced. “We’re dreaming, Brian, we can do whatever we want. It’s not real.”

“Real enough,” Brian retorted.

“Brian--”

“No. I do not want to remember what it feels like to cum inside you.” Brian set the lube and condom next to Justin’s pillow. “I won’t be able to stand using a condom anymore and I won’t do that to you. I want you safe.”

“But I remember,” Justin sighed dolefully.

Brian scowled. “If that’s all you remember, I obviously wasn’t on top of my game.” His hand slipped between their bodies and he stroked Justin’s cock. “But I guarantee you won’t care about anything but feeling my dick up your ass this time.”

Justin’s cock filled and lengthened until it was fully erect. Brian swiped his thumb over the head and felt the precum leaking from the slit. Moaning, Justin arched into his touch and Brian let his fingers glide over his balls and into the crevice between his cheeks. Justin lifted his legs back onto Brian’s shoulders and the man smirked.

He grabbed the condom, tore the wrapper open with his teeth and handed it to Justin. “Put it on me.”

Justin quickly sheathed his cock and Brian put some lube into his palm to smear over the latex. Then Brian squirted some onto Justin’s ass. “Jesus,” Justin hissed from the cold. “You never were big on foreplay.”

Brian arched an eyebrow. “It’s a dream. You think you’re hard and horny, and you are. Why waste time?” He swooped down and captured Justin’s lips in a searing kiss.

Justin felt a current of pleasure jolt through body and suddenly he was in total agreement. “Oh god,” he rasped against Brian’s teeth scraping his tongue. “Fuck me.”

Before he could take another breath Brian pushed into him. Justin’s eyes snapped open and his nails dug into Brian’s shoulders. Pulling back, Brian met his gaze and everything froze.

A flurry of images raced through Justin’s mind and as he struggled to adjust to the intrusion in his body, he also struggled to reconcile the man from his past with the man in his present. There was no beard to cover the scar on his neck, or damage to his vocal chords that deepened his voice. The eyes were a shade lighter, as if they hadn’t yet dropped a veil to cover the pain hidden inside. And his hands—

“Justin,” Brian slowly withdrew, “don’t think, just feel.” He thrust into him again and Justin felt every nerve tingle.

Another thrust and he thought he would fly apart.

“Brian…”

One more and everything went white.

***

December 23rd, 2002

“Justin, wake up.”

Christ, not again.

“Justin, come on.”

“Daph?” Justin’s eyes opened and he squinted against the bright sunlight shining in through the window. “Oh god,” he groaned as a sharp pain sliced through his head.

“What the hell did you do last night?” Daphne asked, much too loudly. He heard her slam the empty whiskey bottle back on the table. “Get up. Brunch is in thirty minutes.”

“I can’t,” he moaned, turning his face back into the cushions.

“You are NOT blowing off my Christmas brunch. You promised and my flight leaves tonight.”

Shit. Why did Daphne always go to her Aunt’s for Christmas? And where the fuck did she find these restaurants she dragged him to every year for their annual brunch send-off?

“The Savoy is supposedly famous for their Bloody Mary’s,” she added.

One eye opened a slit. “Yeah?”

***

Justin had just finished his shower and was brushing his teeth when Daphne burst into the bathroom. “This is the guy from the gallery.”

“Jesus, Daph.” He spit toothpaste at her as he tightened the towel around his waist. After rinsing his mouth he glared at her. “What are you talking about?”

She held up a sketch of Brian in his uniform. “This guy is the guy I thought was Dan at the gallery.”

He took the sketch from her and stared at it. “That’s Brian.”

“Dead Brian or Breathing Brian?”

“Bo--” Justin pushed the scene at the restaurant out of his mind. They were not the same person, no matter what his booze-soaked brain wanted to think. “Like you said. The guy from the gallery. He’s Brian Kinney.” Justin pushed by her and went to the bedroom to dress.

Daphne trailed behind him. “But he’s wearing—oh.my.god. He is Dead Brian! I told you!”

Justin whirled on her and pushed her back out of the room. “No, he’s not,” he hissed before slamming the door.

Justin’s hands trembled as he buttoned his shirt, but he blamed it on the hangover.

When he rejoined Daphne in the living room, she was surrounded by dozens of sketches spread across the end table and floor. “What are you doing?” he shouted angrily.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at him. “I didn’t do anything. They were like this when I got here. This is where I found the sketch I asked you about. And here he is again riding a horse and here’s Brian lying by a stream and--”

Justin blanched and fell to his knees as he shuffled through the drawings. Every one of them now had Brian Kinney’s face.

***

Justin sat on his couch and stared at the clock on the cable box, but his mind was far from seeing the digital display.

He’d spent the morning with Daphne, vehemently denying that one Brian was the other. The only way he could explain drawing Brian Kinney’s face on the sketches of his lover was to admit he was very drunk and pathetic the night before. He gave her the abridged version of his dinner with Brian, leaving out the later whiskey-induced hallucination as well, and put an abrupt end to any further discussion of the subject. Ever.

What his heart wanted to believe was absolutely fucking impossible. The past week was just some warped delusion brought on by stress. A completely reasonable explanation actually. The holidays were the most stressful time of the year. If you combined his financial problems, his recently ended relationship, and his fucking father coming to visit, it was no wonder his subconscious kept trying to escape to another lifetime. Who in their right mind would want to live in this one? Even someplace as dirty, dangerous, and demoralizing as the Wild, Wild West was more appealing than the fucked up existence he called life.

After brunch his sister had managed to get a hold of him before he turned off his cell phone and shut out the world. Molly begged him to take her to the mall to pick up a gift for some girl at school. Actually grateful for the distraction, he agreed and willingly listened to the long-winded tale of her on-again, off-again friendship with Mary, or Marie, or Mar—whoeverthefuck on the way there, while struggling through the throng of other last minute shoppers, and all the way back home.

Now he was back home and spent the evening wrapping Christmas gifts and returning emails of holiday wishes from college friends who’d returned to their own homes across the country for break.

That done, he was left to consider how to broach the subject of Christmas with his mother. In her teenage angst, Molly had been too wrapped up in the drama of her own world to care one way or the other if Justin or their father was there, so it was up to Justin to decide if it was worth it to show up and bear another scene with his dad, or to simply remove himself from the equation and let the three of them enjoy a small family gathering among themselves.

Then there was a knock at the door. “Justin, it’s your mother.” Another knock. “I know you’re home. Let me in.”

Justin took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Is something wrong with your phone? I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon.”

“Battery must be dead,” Justin lied. “What’s up?”

Jennifer removed her coat and folded it over her arm. Justin offered to take it, but she declined. Obviously, she wasn’t planning on staying long and Justin felt a cold pit open in his gut.

“It was very nice of you to help Molly out today. I would have, but I had lunch with your father and--”

“It was no big deal,” Justin interjected.

“It was to her,” Jennifer corrected. “You’re the one who came through for her when she needed help,” she added pointedly.

Him. Not his dad.

“Your father went back to Chicago today.”

Justin’s eyes widened. “What? Mom, I’m sorry. I tried--”

“For what?” she asked, gently squeezing his shoulder. “I’m the one who told him to leave.”

Justin felt he tension in his gut ease a bit. “Why?”

“He told me you found another way to pay for school.”

Justin suddenly felt sick again. “Mom, it’s not what--”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s not true! I’m not sleeping with Brian for money. He bought my painting and he wants more. Just because he’s gay too dad assumed--”

“Justin,” Jennifer cut him off sharply. “Your father is an idiot. I know what he thought, and I know it’s not true. I always knew you were talented and if I pushed you to consider other careers it was just because I know the art world is so fickle. Just because you’re good doesn’t mean you’ll be able to survive. I just worry about you, but I should’ve known I didn’t have to. When you sold your first sketch at the GLC--”

I bought it. I didn’t know why, but I had to have it.

“--I was so proud of you and I should’ve remembered that instead of trying to make you be something you’re not.”

Justin leaned against the back of the sofa and tried to stop the butterflies migrating from his stomach to his throat.

“Justin? You look a little pale, honey.”

Justin waved her off. “Just an upset stomach.” Not exactly a lie.

“Sit down. Can I get you anything? Do you want--”

“No, mom, I think I just need to turn in early.” He walked her to the door. “Thanks for coming by. And I am sorry things didn’t turn out better with dad.”

“I know, honey. I’ll see you and Ethan tomorrow night.”

Justin grimaced. “Uh, Ethan and I broke up yesterday.”

Jennifer’s face remained impassive. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Justin smiled a little. “No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” Jennifer sighed. “I could tell you weren’t really happy. But I am sorry he wasn’t what you wanted.”

“Me too.”

Jennifer kissed his cheek and reminded him, “Don’t forget to call your Aunt Donna tomorrow and wish her a merry Christmas,” before she left.

Don’t forget the sketch of our hands.

Justin sagged against the door as his heart hammered uncontrollably against his ribs.

Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with him?

I bought it.

“No,” Justin muttered to the empty room. “It’s not true. How the fuck could I know that? It was a fucking dream!”

But what if it was true?

“Bullshit!” he grumbled. “None of it was real.”

Ask. Him.

Justin glanced at the phone. He reached for it. He could just call him. If Brian had the sketch…

Justin pulled his hand away from the phone as if he’d been burned. It wasn’t possible… it wasn’t… but if it was …

Justin snatched the phone up and quickly dialed the number, fighting back the urge to hang up again before it connected.

Brian answered on the second ring.

“Mr. Kinney,” Justin’s voice cracked and he closed his eyes. “I know it’s late, but I wanted to apologize for--”

“Are you busy now?” Brian cut in.

“N-no.”

“I’m just on my way back from dinner with a client. Are you at home? I can have the cab turn around and be there in a few minutes.”

Justin took a deep breath. “Yeah, come on over. I’m on the corner of Fuller and Jackson. Number 3.”

***

When he arrived, Brian started to hand Justin a bottle of wine, but then hesitated. “It’s a gift from my client. I was going to suggest we open it, but you still look a little under the weather.”

Justin forced a smile and took the bottle. “I’m fine. A glass of wine would be nice, thank you.”

He watched Brian look around the apartment as he opened the bottle and poured two glasses. Joining the other man, Justin sat on the couch and Brian settled next to him.

“What are your plans for Christmas?” Justin asked, trying to make small talk and ease the tension a bit.

“Dinner with friends,” Brian replied curtly. He nodded to the sketchpads on the table. “Is that what you wanted to show me?”

Justin shook his head, nervously wiping his sweating palms on his jeans before he reached for the remote on top of the pads. “Actually, I have some slides of other pieces.” He flicked off the lamp next to the sofa and turned on the projector. The light illuminated the blank wall on the other side of the room. “These are some of my older projects. Things I had up in other galleries. Even sold a few.”

Brian stretched his arm over the back of the sofa and took a sip of wine. “Let’s see what you got.”

Justin clicked the remote and held his breath.

Brian was about to set his glass on the end table and his hand froze midway.

“Brian?”

The man set his glass down and cleared his throat. His eyes never left the picture. “It’s an interesting piece. I think I have something similar to it at home.”

Justin’s heart skipped a beat. “I sold this one three years ago to an anonymous buyer at the Gay and Lesbian Center. It was my first show. And my first sale.”

Brian chuckled. “No wonder it looks familiar. I have that one at home. I bought it.”

Justin wasn’t sure he’d heard right because the blood pounding in his ears was deafening. He took a sip of his wine to loosen his tongue again after it suddenly seem pasted to the roof of his mouth. “W-why did you want to be anonymous?”

Brian looked a little irritated. “A friend twisted my arm,” was his short response.

“Well, thank you,” Justin replied weakly.

Leaning forward, Brian said, “No, thank you, but now tell me something,” and took Justin’s hand.

Justin’s legs were like jello as he took a step closer. Then another until he was standing in front of the other man. Brian’s other hand took the wine glass from him and then clasped that hand too. He slowly turned Justin’s wrists and brushed his fingers over the extended palms. “Why did you draw it?”

Justin couldn’t stop his own fingers from touching back. They brushed against Brian’s wrists and slid under the cuffs of his shirt to feel the warm skin. “I don’t know… I just had too.” He blushed and looked away. “It’s lame, I know--”

“No, you just do what you have to do. I get that.”

He stood abruptly and Justin was knocked back a step in surprise, but Brian caught him around the waist and pulled him tight against his chest. “I have to kiss you.”

Justin barely nodded before Brian’s lips covered his. The kiss was tentative at first, lips barely touching, brushing back and forth a few times before the pressure increased. Justin’s lips parted and Brian captured the bottom one between his, using his teeth to graze along the sensitive flesh. His tongue followed to soothe the little sting and Justin gasped at the sensation. Assuming it was an open invitation, Brian’s tongue plunged inside.

Justin was taken aback for a moment, but quickly regained his composure. Even though kissing Brian was as intoxicating as he remembered, it wasn’t nearly enough. He needed to feel connected everywhere else as well.

“Justin.”

The deep rumble of the voice made him think his ears were playing tricks on him again.

“Justin,” Brian repeated more forcefully. He pushed him away and Justin stared down at him panting.

Justin blinked to clear the haze in his own eyes as he saw dark chocolate pools looking back at him. Then the gold flecks were back, shining bright from hazel eyes.

“Slow down,” Brian smirked. “I won’t have anything to wear home if you shred my suit.”

Justin was suddenly aware Brian was half-lying on the sofa with Justin straddling his hips. Brian had Justin’s hands pinned under his shirt where he’d been clawing his way to bare skin. Justin’s face flushed red, his ears burning hot.

Brian laughed, released his grip, and pulled Justin back down to his chest. He bit the bright red tip of his ear and whispered, “I didn’t say stop.” His fingers hooked under the hem of Justin’s sweater and yanked it up over his head. Long fingers ran up Justin’s spine to the base of his neck and Justin shivered from the delicious tingle. Brian kissed his bare shoulder and gently pushed him back again, waiting.

Justin tugged on Brian’s shirt so the hem still remaining tucked into the waistband of his pants came out. He unbuttoned the shirt and spread the two halves apart to expose Brian’s chest. Running his hands over the smooth skin, his mouth soon followed. Brian’s fingers wove through his hair as the man guided Justin’s tongue from nipple to nipple and lower to his navel.

Justin was reaching for Brian’s belt when Brian suddenly shifted and flipped them around so Justin was on his back. Brian stood and quickly shed his pants before removing Justin’s as well. They each did a long visual appraisal of the other before their hands started exploring again, quickly followed by their mouths crashing together once more.

Brian trailed hot kisses along Justin’s torso, over his belly and into the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. Justin moaned as Brian’s tongue licked his cock from base to tip and then swirled around the head before his lips sealed around it and plunged back down.

Brian surprised him with a fast rhythm right from the start, lips and tongue slick and tight, sucking and licking hungrily. Senses on overload, Justin arched into Brian’s mouth and had to be held down to keep from choking the other man. Too much too soon. “Wait… shit,” Justin pulled at Brian’s hair. “Stop. I’m gonna cum.”

Brian raised his head smirked at him. “Ah, youth.” His tongue snaked out and lapped at the leaking slit. “Go for it then.”

Justin pushed him away. “And you--”

“I can wait.”

“No,” Justin pushed Brian onto his side and slid out from underneath. “Together.”

Brian raised an eyebrow, but didn’t stop Justin from realigning himself with Brian’s body, mouths to cocks. Once they were side by side again, Brian pulled him closer, spreading his legs and kissing his thighs, purposely avoiding Justin’s dick.

Justin almost laughed out loud as his heart swelled in his chest. He already knew Brian’s scent and taste. There were no surprises when he pressed his lips to the hard shaft, or in the way Brian’s hands caressed his skin, long fingers stroking his hip to keep him relaxed.

Boneless and floating…

He could hear the leaves rustling around them and the soft splash of the river running over rocks. The sun was warm on their bodies, drying the remaining water from their swim, but the breeze was cool and felt good against his heated skin. The grass prickling his back was a sharp contrast to the soft smooth feel of Brian’s skin moving over him. He couldn’t help writhing beneath him, the prickle inflaming an itch that couldn’t be scratched, making the need more intense, until Brian took pity on him and gave him relief.

Liquid heat enveloping him...

Brian’s mouth was hot and wet, sucking him to the root again. The head of his dick brushed the back of Brian’s throat and Justin groaned. Brian pushed his own dick deeper into Justin’s mouth and Justin sucked harder. Brian swallowed and Justin came. Justin hummed with pleasure and the vibration pushed Brian over the edge as well.

Temporarily sated, they lay face to face again, kissing and tasting wet swollen lips and smoothing over damp cooling skin before they drifted off.

***

Christmas Eve

Justin woke up alone in his bed.

He stared at the empty mattress and fought the urge to feel or smell it. He knew it wouldn’t have Brian’s scent or heat trapped in the sheets. It never did because it was just a dream. In a few minutes the lingering illusion of Brian’s body covering him, inside him, would fade away as it always did.

Shaking off the crushing disappointment, Justin forced himself up and away from the memories bombarding him and staggered into the bathroom. He pissed, brushed his teeth, and went to the kitchen to start some coffee.

Brian was in the living room, collecting his clothes. “Good, you’re up. Do you mind if I take a shower? I don’t have time to go back to the hotel.”

Stunned, Justin shook his head.

Brian dug his belt out from under the sofa, laid it on the chair with his suit, and headed to the bathroom. “You coming?”

***

Standing under the spray, Justin leaned against Brian as the other man soaped his chest. “You smell like peaches,” Brian murmured.

Justin’s eyes flew open.

Brian’s nose was buried in his neck, inhaling the lather. “I couldn’t figure out what it was before.” His soapy hands strayed over Justin’s belly and between his legs.

“Hmm…” Justin turned his face into Brian’s neck and kissed along his jaw to distract him before Brian realized it was just an unscented bar of glycerin.

“There is some life left,” Brian growled as Justin finally seemed to perk up. “I thought I actually did fuck you into oblivion.”

“Uh-hmm…I thought it was just a dream.”

Brian snorted. “If the ache in your ass isn’t enough to make you remember, the empty box of condoms should’ve been a clue.”

Jesus, it had all been real. Justin smiled drunkenly. “I guess so.”

Brian’s fingers curled in Justin’s wet hair and pulled his head back. He gave him a suspicious look and pushed him up against the shower wall. “You don’t sound very convinced.” He pulled Justin’s hips out so he was bent slightly at the waist and spread his legs. “Remember this?”

Brian’s tongue started at Justin’s neck, slid down his spine, dipped into the crack between his cheeks, and licked at his hole.

***

Justin watched Brian dress and wondered what happened next. Neither of them had spoken since they got out of the shower, and now Brian was almost ready to leave.

“What about the paintings?” Justin finally blurted, grasping at straws. “You didn’t make a decision yet.”

Brian fixed him with a pointed stare as he wound his scarf around his neck. “No, I need to talk to my partner.”

Justin clutched the edge of the counter to keep from crumbling to pieces. “But I thought--last night--”

“I wanted to fuck.”

Justin’s knuckles turned white. “And our deal?”

Brian blinked slowly. “What about it?”

"You said,” Justin struggled to keep his voice even, “you wanted to finalize something before you went back to New York.”

Brian picked up his gloves and shoved them into his pockets. “Didn’t we? Aren’t you going to take the job?”

Justin crossed in front of Brian and put his hand on the door knob first. It appeared as if he was seeing his guest out, but Brian wasn’t leaving until he got one straight answer. He caught Brian’s gaze and the determination in his eyes dared the other man to look away first. “You didn’t tell me what you want me to do.”

Brian’s eyes narrowed slightly and he looked away for a moment, then back. Clenching his jaw, he took a step forward and Justin thought he was going to just push his way out. But he reached for Justin instead of the door handle and his hand wrapped around the back of Justin’s neck. “I want you to come to New York next week, our dime. You can see the office and we’ll talk about ideas. I’ll have my assistant book you a flight on Wednesday afternoon if you can clear your schedule through Sunday.”

Your will was always stronger than mine.

Justin struggled to suppress a smile. Wednesday was New Year’s Eve, a chance to start a new year and a new life with Brian. “I should be able to do that.”

Brian’s face remained blank, but his fingers tightened on Justin’s neck for a moment before he let go and opened the door. “Later.”

***

~Epilogue~

December 25, 2003

The first thing Justin saw when he opened his eyes was a sky full of stars. But when he reached out for Brian, he realized the stars were actually Christmas tree lights. He felt a little twinge of disappointment, but pushed it aside and slid closer to Brian.

He wasn’t sure why the dreams had started up again and he wondered how long they would last this time. Though he sometimes missed them, he cherished the amazing memories they revealed, they also made it more difficult for him. When he began this new relationship with Brian, it had been hard to separate past from present. It was hard to remember things he couldn’t share with Brian and sometimes he was angry at Brian for not remembering that they were just meant to be together and making it easier for both of them.

But he also knew that deep in the recesses of Brian’s mind were other memories that would come out with the rest, nightmares of the war that Justin would never put Brian through again. So he eventually let go of the past and they made enough new memories that the old feelings faded and slipped to the back of his mind once more.

Justin felt Brian stirring, his lips brushing against Justin’s hair, and then his nose rubbing against his skin. Justin smiled and turned in Brian’s arms. He was pulled tight against Brian’s chest, arms and legs twining together like pieces of a puzzle locking together to be one again. This was where he belonged now. He was content to leave the past where it lay and concentrate on living here. If any other memories were dredged up, he would just accept it and put them back in their place.

“Why the hell are we on the floor?” Brian grumbled. “We have a perfectly good bed to fuck in.”

Justin’s enthusiasm for the tree had waned anyway so he kicked off the blankets and sat up. “Let’s go fuck in it.”

***

Justin shook a little from the effort as he tried to hold back from just ramming himself into the other man’s too tight ass. Brian pushed back a little and he slid in further with a stifled groan. Justin bit his shoulder, the blunt pain a deliberate distraction as he pushed once more and was fully embedded. He heard Brian hiss before his face was buried in the pillow and lovingly raked his fingers through Brian’s hair, nudging his head to the side so he could still see his face. The only thing better than Brian letting him inside was watching Brian let go.

He slowly withdrew, seeing Brian’s brow furrow and jaw clench. He used short shallow jabs at first and Brian bit his lip as he rocked back and forth with him a few times, then Justin angled his hips and drove deep inside again with one long smooth thrust. Brian’s mouth fell open as the air was pushed from his lungs. Justin thrust into him again and Brian’s jaw hung slack as he grunted at the glide over his prostate.

Justin couldn’t help groaning himself as the pleasure became too much and he started pumping his hips faster. Brian bucked beneath him, slamming them together harder until all control was gone and Justin felt Brian shift to reach under himself and fist his cock. Knowing Brian was about to come pushed him over the edge and they finished together.

Brian didn’t like basking in the afterglow when he was stuck to the sheets so Justin carefully withdrew and discarded the condom. Brian grabbed a towel and cleaned them up before rolling Justin onto his side and spooning behind him. Now that the natural order had been restored, Brian quickly relaxed and went back to sleep. Justin focused on the other man’s shallow breath warming his neck and drifted off again as well.

***

Justin was grasping the rail tightly and bouncing on his toes as the ship started its slow cruise from the harbor. “This is grand, Brian!”

Brian smiled down at him. “I’m glad you approve.”

“How old is the ship? Is it as big as the Olympic? Is it--”

“It is better in every way,” Brian assured him. “The Olympic is not as elegant and is much older. This ship was built in ’23 so it’s only been sailing ten years. And Cunard ships do not have the ill-fated history of the White Star line.”

Glancing around to be sure no one was paying them any attention, Justin reached over and squeezed Brian’s hand. “Thank you. It is going to be the best Christmas ever,” he lowered his eyes coyly, “just because it is with you.”

Laughing, Brian squeezed his hand back and returned it to the railing so he would not be tempted. “I do not think you would have been so pleased if we were spending it in the dreary cold.”

“I would not mind,” Justin protested. “Your bed is plenty warm and that is really the only place I want to spend Christmas.”

“Ah, then you will not be getting off the ship when we reach port?”

Justin started to reply, but then paused, a defiant glint in his eyes. “Not if you do not tell me where we are going.”

“But you wanted to be surprised,” Brian reminded him.

“The ship is a surprise, Brian!” Justin cried. “Now tell me where we are going, or I will ask someone else!”

Brian laughed again and replied, “You will do no such thing,” before walking away.

“I will,” Justin insisted, running after him.

“And what would you tell them?” Brian asked as he steered them toward the cabins below. “How would you explain being on a ship and not knowing its destination? Would you tell them I kidnapped you in the night?”

“It is true,” Justin interjected.

There was only one other couple in the passageway a few yards ahead and Brian watched their backs as he pressed himself up against Justin from behind as they walked. He leaned close to Justin’s ear and lowered his voice so they wouldn’t be overheard. “And would you tell them other truths as well?” His hand tightened around Justin’s waist. “That I take you to my bed? That I use your young beautiful body for my own wicked pleasure?”

“No,” Justin whispered breathlessly as Brian’s hand snaked over his belly.

“But it is also true.”

“Brian…”

“Isn’t it? Or will you be staying in your own cabin?”

“Brian, wake up.”

Brian opened his eyes and blinked against the morning light streaming in. “What?” he groused, rolling onto his back and flinging his arm over his face.

Justin cupped his chin and kissed his cheek. “You were mumbling in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?”

Brian’s arm dropped and he looked confused for a moment, obviously trying to piece it back together, but then he shrugged as he sat up and stretched. “I don’t remember… A cruise?” He shook his head. “Christ, it’s all Vance talked about for the past two weeks and now I’m having nightmares about being trapped in a floating coffin with you.”

Justin grinned as he slid behind Brian, leaning over his shoulder. “Is that so bad? Fucking all night, a warm ocean breeze blowing--”

“The only thing blowing should be you,” Brian cut in.

“More fucking on the beach... lots of warm Caribbean sunshine and no tan lines.”

“You don’t tan. And there’s no fucking when you’re peeling like a lobster. It makes my dick soft.”

Justin ignored him. “Maybe we should--”

Brian pushed him off and stood. “No fucking way,” he balked as he headed for the bathroom. “You puked your guts out the entire week last time.”

Justin stared after him. “What? Brian, we never…” but his voice trailed off, mouth gaping in surprise.