“I can’t believe you’re finally here!”

I know I’m squealing like a stuck pig, but his plane was due six hours ago. That’s a long time to be trapped in this dingy concourse, watching the rain beat down on the glass in sheets. I know I could’ve gone home to wait, but visibility was for shit and with my luck, I would’ve just had to turn right around and come back again. They kept delaying his flight in hourly increments so how was I supposed to know it would end up being six total before he was finally able to land?

But it doesn’t matter now. He looks amazing in his tight tank top and worn jeans, barely a hair out of place, even though I know he was a total ass the whole flight—it’s just his way. And I swear, right there he picks me up and swings me around, ignoring the complaints of other travelers who get cut off or accidentally kicked, and it’s like he’s physically lifting the clouds away too. The sun finally peeks through and I’m laughing and squinting as it blinds me and warms my face.

Just like his kiss on my cheek as he sets me down. “I missed you too, Princess,” he blows in my ear before picking up his bag again and steering us toward the escalator to the parking garage.

I’m weaving a little, dizzy from twirling around and from having him back in town for a few days. He smirks, the bastard, and slips his arm around my waist to keep me from tipping over.

Ah, hell, I let him, without even saying anything about the smug attitude. It’s not like he doesn’t know I have a crush on him. Hell, the whole family knows. I’ve been in love with him for years. Ever since his mom married my uncle and we became sort of like cousins.

I wish it was kissing cousins, but unfortunately, he’s gay, dammit. So, like every other woman in the world, I lust after Brian Kinney like there’s no tomorrow because, well, there isn’t. Not for us. But some lucky guy, like that skycap he’s making eyes at, will get him in the sack later.

Lucky fuck.

***

“Come on, Daph, no fucking way,” Brian growls as the taxi turns onto my street.

I’ve spent the entire ride from the airport trying to convince him to do me this teensy favor, and of course, he’s being a selfish prick. I love him to pieces, but he’s a dick most of the time.

How easily that’s forgotten when he’s gone for so long between visits. He lives in Chicago now, a schmancy ad man, and only comes home for family reunions, funerals, weddings, and Christmas—if we’re lucky.

“Jesus, Brian I’m not asking you to fuck him, it won’t even cut into your club time later. Just talk to him for a few minutes. Let me know what you think.”

He’s still glaring at me. “It’s not like I have X-ray vision that can see the queer gene,” he snipes.

That makes me laugh. “No, but you sure can tell if someone’s hard for you from twenty yards away. And if you’re in the room and he’s gay, he’ll definitely react.”

Brian’s preening a little from the compliment, but still shaking his head. “Why don’t you just ask him?” he says, again, obviously so bored by my company that he’s distracted by some paper blowing along the curb as we pull up in front of my building.

I pinch his arm to refocus his attention. “Because he won’t tell me,” I explain, again, losing patience as we get out of the cab and pay our fare. “I don’t think he knows! He’s totally in denial! Isn’t it your duty as a fellow fag to help him see his true path?”

Brian snorts and heads into the building. “My only duty is to my dick. I’m going to shower and then I’m heading to the baths.”

Does he realize the redundancy of that statement, I wonder?

“After that,” he continues as I slip my key in the lock and open the door, “I’m going to Woody’s, then Meathook—it’s still there right?” I nod. “Good, it’s got the hottest fucking guys I’ve ever seen…and that backroom. Jesus,” he sighs, rubbing his stomach like he’s hungry and getting ready for a big Thanksgiving feast. “Only then will I be able to remotely stand being anywhere near that cunt this weekend,” he finishes as he slumps on the arm of my sofa, waiting for me to give him the little tour of my new place before he settles in.

He’s already frowning at the sofa bed, such a queen, but it’s not like he won’t find another warm bed to sleep in anyway, so what’s the problem?

By the way, ‘that cunt’ is his god-fearing mother, if you haven’t guessed. She takes every opportunity to tell him he’s going to hell for his wicked, wicked ways. You think she’d have figured out by now that it only spurs him on.

Which is why I understand it’s time to try a different tactic for the time being. Besides, my roommate’s not here right now anyway, so the great outting I have planned for his own good will have to wait.

That’s all I want really. Just for Brian to talk to him and feel him…well, out, so to speak. I swear the guy’s gay, but he’s so far in the closet he can’t even admit it to himself. And believe me, it’s not healthy. He’s miserable. He’s a great guy—warm, funny, cute, creative—and he deserves to be happy, which he obviously isn’t now.

I know some people would frown on me sticking my nose into it. My neighbor says I should mind my own business because he knows what it’s like to be forced out of the closet by so-called friends. I ignored that little dig because I knew he wasn’t talking about me.

And I decided not let his negativity deter me. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t try harder? Oh, I know we hardly know each other. I’ve only had him as a roommie for a few months. He was recommended by a friend of a friend because he needed a place to stay and I needed someone to help with the rent, but it’s working out okay, I think. I like him. We’ll be best buds once he knows he can trust me.

Now Brian’s rummaging in the fridge for a beer. Guess he decided to make himself at home without the tour. Not like he couldn’t. Look, stand on one heel and pivot—kitchen—pivot—bedroom—pivot—the other bedroom—pivot—bathroom—and we’re done.

I watch Christopher Lowell everyday and the fucker hasn’t given me one useful hint to create more space in this tin can. But I did make a fabulous beaded fringe lamp shade.

Brian snags a bottle, twists off the top and grabs his bag as he heads to the bathroom. Fine, let him go fuck his brains out for tonight. I have all weekend to get him to have coffee with my roommate. He’ll do it.

While Brian’s in the shower, my friend Emmett and his boyfriend stop in to see if I want to join them for dinner. I tell them my cousin is visiting and Emmett claps giddily.

“Ooh, we finally get to meet the stud!” he exclaims as Ben puts a calming hand on his shoulder. They’ve heard a lot about Brian over time, but he’s always been out fucking or doing family shit when he’s visited so he’s never actually met my friends yet. I think they’ve assumed he’s imaginary and are just humoring me until my room at Bellevue is ready.

To prove to them Brian is indeed real, I knock on the bathroom door. The shower stopped just before they came over so Brian should be decent now. “Bri?”

He flings the door open, patting gel under his eye. “What?”

“Oh my,” Emmett whistles appreciatively at the view. Brian is definitely decent to look at, but hardly for company. I reach past him to grab his discarded towel from the sink and thrust it at him to cover his dick, but I can’t help the slight twinge of envy as I notice there isn’t one visible tan line on his body. He’s--

“—perfect,” I hear Emmett sigh. He sashays over, and boldly traces Brian’s chest with his finger, assessing his abs. “Honey, I have a new line from Donatella, her Rico Suave Collection, that would make men cream themselves to have you.”

“They already do,” Brian drawled, flicking Emmett’s finger away. He arches his eyebrow at me and mouths, ‘duh’.

Emmett snorts at him and I quickly smooth his ruffled feathers. “I think Brian’s referring to something else, Em. No, Brian, Emmett is not my roommate. Of course I could tell Emmett’s gay, even before meeting Ben,” I say by way of introduction as I point to the hulk of a man on my sofa. “Actually, Emmett and I work together at The Closet. He’s the manager of the Men’s Department. And it’s the best in town, if I do say myself.”

Brian gives Emmett a new appraising glance, probably working out some sort of ‘sex in trade for a discount plan’ now that he knows Emmett’s not just any old label queen. He is The Queen.

Ben nods from the sofa and Brian rakes him over with his eyes, another quick Kinney appraisal, before turning back to the sink and feigning disinterest. Pretentious prick.

“Emmett and Ben have invited us to dinner,” I tell Brian.

He doesn’t bother to spare me another glance. “I already have plans,” he reminds me, enunciating slowly like I’m a retard.

“Let me guess,” Emmett says, “Meathook? That is so last year, honey. Babylon is where it’s at now.”

Brian arches any eyebrow at me as if to ask why this important piece of information was not shared immediately.

So sue me, even though he lives in another city I figured his gay networking skills got him the dish faster than I could. It’s the pecking order, you know-- fag beats hag regardless of geography.

“We’re going too,” Emmett adds, “so come to dinner with us, La Perla makes to die for fajitas, and tell me all the most horrific stories you can share to embarrass our little flower here. Then I guarantee you will go straight to the head of the line at the club with me. It’ll be a night to remember,” he promises. “It’s the Jocks and Cocks contest tonight.”

Brian finishes applying his moisturizer and tosses the towel aside as he bends over and digs in his bag for a pair of pants.

Asshole. I want to squeeze his nuts for flaunting his shit at Emmett like that. He’s drooling like Pavlov’s dog as Brian acts like it’s perfectly normal to wave your dick at strangers.

“Why not?” Brian finally shrugs, pulling his jeans on at last.

But he doesn’t button them, of course. He leaves a teasing peek of curly hair in sight as he struts past Ben to the kitchen. Fucker always has to have all eyes on him. Even a solidly committed guy like Ben can’t resist licking his chops before he averts his eyes guiltily.

“Then it’s settled,” Emmett crows, oblivious or uncaring, I’m not sure. “This is going to be soo much fun!”

I can’t help the nervous flutter in my stomach as Brian smirks at me. ‘Fun,’ he mouths, eyes dancing wickedly.

Oh, shit. His kind of fun means were all fucked. Literally.

***

Just as I suspected, Brian was looking to make trouble between Emmett and Ben. I know he doesn’t mean to be malicious, he just doesn’t respect anyone’s relationship boundaries because he thinks they’re bullshit. Relationships, not boundaries. He has a lot of boundaries of his own. There are actually a lot of rules and codicils to the Kinney Code so, if you want to play with Brian, you have to play along. And that causes a lot of trouble.

Trouble no one needs tonight. “Brian, don’t.”

He glances at me over his beer. “What?”

“Leave Emmett alone.”

He snorts at me and looks back at the dance floor. He’s already made enough trips to the backroom to set record, getting ‘the lay of the land’ he said, but he continues to cruise the crowd for another trick. At least, that’s what he wants it to look like. I know he’s watching them.

“I know you don’t give a shit about their relationship,” I try again, “but I do. Please don’t fuck him.”

Brian set his glass down and shrugged. “Not worth it. That’s not even a challenge.”

I breathe a sigh of relief until I realize what he’s really saying. Who’s really had his attention all night. He’s ready for some hardcore games. “Brian! I know you think it’s fun to play King of the Mountain, but Ben is off limits!”

Shit. He arches an eyebrow at me and I realize I’ve just challenged him. “You asshole,” I hiss in frustration. “I’m begging. Please don’t do this. You have a hundred other guys to choose from. Go find another top to tussle with if you have something to prove!” I hope questioning his dominance will put him off, but the fucker actually laughs at me.

“He’s not a top,” he smirks when he’d stops rolling on the floor. “He wants to be fucked so bad he can taste it.”

“What?” I cry incredulously. “No way!”

Brian rolls his eyes at me and turns me around to face the dance floor. “Have I taught you nothing,” he huffs as he points my eyes at them. “Watch him. What’s he doing?”

“Staring at Emmett. Like he always does,” I snap. “They love--”

“Not the guilty face he’s had plastered on all night,” Brian shoots back. “When he thinks no one’s paying attention, who’s he looking at?”

This is fucking ridiculous. I can’t really see anything in the dark smoky room, but when I try to turn back around, Brian holds my head so I’m still watching them. And I see it. Ben’s head, barely perceptible, swiveling back and forth. His roaming eyes. That prick!

“He’s cheating on Emmett!”

Brian sighs, almost disappointedly I think, “No, he’s not. He’s too much of a nelly bottom to even get his needs met. It’s pathetic really.”

I still don’t understand that. “He’s not a bottom,” I protest. I mean, look at him!

Now Brian’s really disgusted with me. “He’s not looking for another bottom to replace Emmett,” he gripes. “He’s looking for someone to fuck him. He’s the bottom. Emmett’s too caught up in his own act to realize it.”

My mouth gapes open. “What act? Emmett’s the most secure, albeit campy, queen I know. It’s nice to know someone who actually respects themselves and--”

“It’s an act,” Brian insists, snarking, “No one is that gay.” When I shake my head again he scowls at me. “I know marketing, my dear, and that’s fucking genius. A little overdone for my taste, but clearly he’s hooked his audience if he’s as successful as you say.” He can tell I’m still confused. “He thinks everyone expects him to be as queer as a three dollar bill, so he gives it to them,” he says tersely, finally cutting to the chase. “Fags know fashion. Managers and client see a real queen and they cream themselves because of his ‘expertise’.”

Oh my god. I think back over all of Emmett’s antics, leading to big commissions and promotions at work, and I realize Brian’s right! “So you’re saying it’s the same thing with Ben?” I ask. I think I finally understand.

Brian nods. “He thinks Ben wants him because he’s a lezzy with a dick so he keeps it up, even in the bedroom. Except Ben wants it up his ass, not the other way around.”

I laugh then too. “Thank you, Freud. I didn’t realize you were such a student of human nature. Anatomy, yes, but--”

“I have to know how people think if I’m going to get them to buy douche,” he grimaces, downing the last of his beer.

True, but I still want him to understand my position. “Brian, that doesn’t change the fact that they’re in a relationship and my friends. Please respect that and don’t fuck him.”

He blinks at me and then grudgingly concedes when he snipes, “I’m not that hard up.”

To demonstrate his point, some guy leans into him and smiles. “Brian?”

We both turn to the intruder and I’m shocked when I realize it’s my neighbor. “Justin? Where the fuck have you been?”

But he’s only paying attention to Brian. And I realize he just called him by name. What the fuck? “How do you know my cousin?” I ask, slipping between them so someone is listening to me.

“He’s your infamous cousin?” Justin gasps. Then his smile brightens. “Of course he is.”

“But how--”

“I had an interview in Chicago and Brian showed me the town afterwards.”

“I’ll bet,” I sigh. They’re the two biggest whores I know. Of course they’d hook up. Blind, deaf, and dumb, they’d still find each other.

“I’d be happy to show you Pittsburgh in return,” Justin offers, but Brian shrugs him off.

“Seen it.”

Justin’s smile falters for a moment and I quickly add, “Brian is actually from here. I’d have thought you two would’ve discussed that, but then again maybe not,” I add when I realize the extent of their conversation was probably, ‘fuck me’ and ‘bend over.’

“So, Chicago?” I ask. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you just took off for the hell of it again.” Justin has a habit of just disappearing for days on end to fuck and party. He’s an honor student on the verge of graduating, art departments at firms like Brian’s are fighting over him, and money has never been an issue for him, so I guess he can do whatever he wants--but most people think he’s a punk for flaunting it all the time.

Maybe he’s a little spoiled, but he’s basically a good guy. Like what I said about him and my roommate. He’s very ‘live and let live’, which is obviously important in this community.

“It just came up,” Justin replies, watching Brian watching the dance floor. “Want to dance?” he tries again.

Brian shakes his head and says, “You kids catch up while I catch him,” over his shoulder as he plunges into the crowd.

Fucker. He’s only four years older than us but he acts like it’s three times that much sometimes.

Justin’s eyes narrow as he watches Brian pick up his next trick.

“Hey, he’s an asshole,” I say to lessen the sting.

“No repeats,” he mutters.

“What?”

“He told me no repeats,” Justin says, “but I didn’t believe him. I thought if I got the job in Chicago we could hook up again. What’s he doing here?”

Again, if they’d actually talked, they would’ve known all this and could’ve flown back together and had a nice long fuckfest over the week--oh, who the hell am I kidding. Brian’s not the laze in bed and bask all weekend type of guy. His dick would probably fall off if he knew I was even thinking about it. The horror!

“Family reunion. It’s just for the weekend,” I tell Justin. Probably for the best considering the guy’s long face. I squeeze his shoulder. “Besides, why do you want to move to Chicago? It sucks.” Okay, poor choice of words in this case. “Jus, he’s a whore, not a boyfriend.” Harsh, but true, and it’s my last shot. “And you’re the same way,” I point out, “so what do you care?” It sounds cruel, but I know Justin and I finally get through to him.

“I don’t,” he snarls, slamming the rest of his beer before disappearing to the backroom himself.

So much for Brian not dicking around with my friends.

Fuck you very much, asshole.

***

As I suspected, I don't see Justin again. He must've left after Brian rejected him. He's a nice guy, but a bit of a princess sometimes.

So Brian is a dick. There's always plenty more.

Brian isn’t having any trouble. He makes several more trips to the backroom and then disappears himself. I knew he would be sleeping--I use the term loosely-- someplace else because he hates my sofa. Not that I'm complaining. I definitely wouldn't want him back at my place with a trick.

So Emmett and Ben give me a ride home and I just thank my lucky stars they’re going home together without any drama.

***

Justin watched Brian getting one unsatisfying blowjob after another in the backroom before he gave up any hope of Brian giving him another chance and left. He hadn’t been faring much better anyway, but what really pissed him off was he knew they were good together. Jesus, really good. So why keep up some lame ass ‘rule’ when you didn’t have any other viable options? Just getting off was the goal, right? It didn’t mean anything if they just did it again—except they’d both be enjoying themselves more.

But Justin found himself with one last opportunity to get Brian’s attention when Brian was also leaving, and taking one last opportunity to get his dick sucked in the alley.

Judging the rejection would be less embarrassing if he approached Brian now rather than in a room full of horny queers, Justin boldly stepped up to the other man, letting Brian feel his presence before he ran his tongue over the outer rim of Brian’s ear, flicking along the curve at the top until he felt Brian shiver.

Brian’s breath hitched and his head twisted around to see Justin next to him. Justin smiled and leaned in to do it again, but Brian pushed him back. “Fuck off.”

Justin steeled himself and stood his ground. “Fuck me,” he countered, breathing against Brian’s neck. He remembered Brian’s neck and ears were very sensitive so he was playing every angle for a physical reaction. Eventually, Brian wouldn’t be able to stand it anymore and would cave-- he hoped.

“Already… had you,” Brian snarled, but he didn’t push back again.

Justin bit his lip to keep from crowing when Brian instead turned his head away. It looked like a snub, but he was actually baring his neck.

Justin ran his tongue from Brian’s collar to behind his ear, one long wet lick as he pressed his own erection into Brian’s hip and let his fingers slide up under Brian’s shirt. He grazed over Brian’s belly, feeling the stomach muscles flutter under his touch and then flattened his palm as it glided over cool skin and hardened nipples. Raking his nails over the sensitive nubs, he drew simultaneous moans from Brian and the trick as Brian’s dick reacted to the stimulation and he pushed it deeper in to the other man’s throat.

But Justin wasn’t letting the trick get a reward for his efforts. He’d made Brian hard and he’d make him come. Then Brian couldn’t deny they were hot together.

Justin pushed the trick away and took control.

***

Brian wasn’t really sure what happened, the last bump still had him flying above the ground, but one minute his half-erect dick was being slobbered on and knocked about against teeth and a cumbersome tongue and the next he was enclosed in tight, slick heat, being squeezed and stroked at the exact pressure and speed he needed to make him shoot his load.

And then it stopped. The fist released him and let cool air blow against his burning skin as deft fingers slid beneath his balls, kneading the tight sac before inching along the sensitive skin leading to his ass.

Sure he was a top, but he liked being fingered and rimmed as much as any fag and this kid—memories of the kid’s voracious appetite eating his ass while they were in a sixty-nine and Brian was sucking Justin off flooded over him.

Brian’s dick pulsed impatiently and he thrust his hips into the air looking for any contact.

As if reading his mind, Justin started jerking him off again and gave him another demonstration of his talented tongue as it plunged into Brian’s mouth and Brian came hard in Justin’s hand.

***

Justin let him go, perfunctorily wiping his hand but leaving Brian to tend to himself. As much as he wanted to beg the man to suck or fuck him now—Christ, he was hard—he’d spent the night watching Brian callously discard tricks after he was finished. He wasn’t going to be pushed away when he could walk away on his own.

He stifled a gasp when Brian grabbed him and pulled him back. It could’ve just passed for a silent plea to hold him up until he got his breath back, except Brian’s hands were holding Justin’s hips, pressing their dicks together again.

Justin evaded his grasp and shook his head, feigning disinterest.

Okay, so Brian could tell he was fucking hard, but it didn’t stop him from smirking, “I just had you.”

Brian jerked him back and growled something unintelligible before slamming their mouths together.

***

Justin gave the taxi driver Daphne’s address and Brian shook his head. “Your place,” he demanded. He was not taking a trick back to Daphne’s so they could play house in the morning and pretend they would be boyfriends. He didn’t like tricks butting into his personal life as if they had a stake in it now just because they’d fucked. It would especially be a problem with Justin since he and Daphne already knew each other.

Shit. Brian suddenly realized he didn’t know how they knew—

“That is my place,” Justin scowled. “Daph and I are neighbors.”

Fuck. Brian was sensing something much more complicated brewing and began to regret picking the kid up. Again.

It wasn’t that Justin wasn’t a good fuck. Brian would grudgingly admit, only to himself though, that Justin was the best lay he’d had in a long time.

When he wasn’t running off at the mouth.

Brian didn’t give a shit about the kid’s past, present, or future when he’d picked him up at the Chicago club a few nights ago, but once Justin had figured out they had some business interests in common, he would not shut up about his career plans and the firms he’d been talking to.

Brian certainly didn’t want to spend the night with another ego-inflated art major about to take the firm’s design department by storm. The snot-nosed little shits needed to get knocked on their asses more often before they joined the real world. He got tired of delivering the first blow and then having to deal with the sniveling after effects.

But once Brian shut Justin up with his dick in the kid’s mouth, the night definitely improved. Brian fucked him into oblivion and Justin gave back as good as he got.

Brian’s dick started to stir again and he pulled Justin over for a kiss to make sure he didn’t say anything else to ruin Brian’s improving mood.

Not even the realization that he’d been kissing Justin more in the last few minutes than a month’s worth of tricks combined was enough to soften his hard-on.

It was just another rule being temporarily bent to salvage a wasted evening and a good buzz.

It was just another fuck.

***

I’m making coffee this morning and contemplating the best plan of attack for the reunion this afternoon when Brian breezes in. I’m glad he’s actually come back instead of completely blowing it off until I realize he is only making a pit stop.

He is definitely rank and well fucked. His pants are barely hugging his hips since he hasn't bothered to fasten them and he’s shirtless and barefoot. He grunts a reply to my greeting and rushes to his bag next to the sofa. Pulling out a tube of lube, he almost gets by me again before I block his exit. Obviously back to-- "Justin?" I ask brusquely, putting the clues together. He didn’t walk back to my place half-dressed for lube from anywhere outside the building and what are the odds he hooked up with someone else in this little hovel?

If his stony demeanor didn’t answer my question, the barely concealed erection was a dead giveaway. Hence his disheveled clothing.

How the hell does he wear skintight pants when he's hard 24/7? Doesn't that chafe?

“Oh, hi,” Michael says nervously as he comes out of his room to witness our stand off.

“Morning, Michael,” I chirp evilly, turning Brian to face him. “Brian, this is my roommate, Michael. Michael, this is my cousin, Brian.”

“Hi,” Michael repeats, his eyes bugging out before he scurries to the bathroom.

Brian stops trying to slip past me long enough to raise an eyebrow. “You have the worst gaydar of any hag I know,” he sneers.

“Hey!” I protest. “It hasn’t been that easy. That’s the first reaction I’ve ever been able to get out of him. I had to call in the big guns, obviously,” I snicker, pinching his lower belly—as close as I dare get to the bulge in his pants.

He gives me a lopsided grin, the one that he knows makes my knees weak and kisses me on the cheek as a reward for stroking his ego.

The stench of booze and sweat nearly knocks me over and he knows it, so he pushes me against the wall to help me stay on my feet. Then I’m also out of the way and he can escape again.

But I grab his arm. “Brian, what are you doing?”

“You’re a smart girl, Daph,” he drawls pointedly.

“With Justin?” I snap. “You ignored him all night until you couldn’t find anyone better. I begged you not to play games with my friends!”

“He’s not complaining,” Brian scowls, “so mind your own business.”

“Not now, he’s not,” I agree, “but you aren’t going to have to watch him wander around like a whipped puppy after you leave.”

Brian shakes his head. “That kid? He just wants a dick in his ass. He doesn’t give a shit about anything else. But I will admit he is a good fuck. Better than the dregs I had to scrape off the floor last night just for a decent blow job.” He sighs huffily. “That’s hardly any motivation to move back to the Pitts.”

My jaw drops open. “Move? What?”

Michael comes out of the bathroom and sits down at the table with his usual stack of comic books as he pours a bowl of cereal. “H-how long are you staying, Brian?” he asks politely as he tries to shuffle the bowl around the issues he has spread out.

“I’m leaving Monday after my interview,” Brian replies to answer us both.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I squeal and he winces.

Serves him right.

“I just did,” he mutters, something on the table catching his eyes.

“So, widdle Mikey likes the X-Men?” he asks and I’m about to rip his balls off for being a condescending asshole when he abruptly reverts back to 15 instead of 25 and snatches the issue Michael had been reading. “He’s hot,” he says conspiratorially, showing Michael whatever he’s looking at.

I’ve suddenly disappeared.

“You like comics?” Michael asks in awe.

Brian rolls his eyes and taps the page again as if to say, ‘duh.’ Then they both fucking laugh and Michael’s digging through the stack for something else.

“Captain Astro’s hotter,” he glows, showing Brian his hero in all of the Captain’s tight spandex and muscle-bound glory.

I’ve gotten to know plenty about the Captain over the last few months.

Brian glances at the picture and muses, “Looks sort of like, uh, what’s his—Ben.”

Michael nods excitedly. “He does! I told you Daph!” he crows, then laments to Brian, “No one else believed me.”

His eyes are so big right now, he’s really kind of cute, but I wonder how long Brian will put up with his fawning before he gets bored. Better to nip it now before Michael is crushed and slips back into his shell. Besides, the door is open so I can take over.

I could just kiss Brian for helping out after all. “Brian--” I start sweetly.

“How do you know so much about comics?” Michael interjects.

Brian shrugs, flipping through another issue with some green character. “I read some as a kid and I try to stay up on the latest art trends for work. I’ve always thought this guy at Marvel was the best ever.”

Michael looks at the artwork and shakes his head. “He’s okay, but Dean was better. The last issues he did before he died are the best I’ve ever seen. Would you like to--”

“Brian?” Justin pokes his head in the door.

Jesus, he looks like he can barely stand let alone fuck anymore, but it’s obvious that’s what he’s looking for.

“I thought you got lost,” he says a little testily.

Brian glances at him briefly. “I know where I am.”

Justin’s face clouds over and I feel a tantrum coming on, but no one else notices.

“Where do you get your comics?” Brian asks Michael.

“I work at Buzzy’s shop on Humboldt,” Michael tells him. “He’s going to retire next spring so I’m hoping to have enough saved to buy the shop from him then.” He looks at the issue in his hand and then back at Brian. “Would you like to come see it?”

Brian nods. “Sure. You pull out some of the latest stuff you think I should see and I’ll swing by on my way to the airport tomorrow. We can have lunch if there’s someplace decent around there. I don’t remember.”

“There’s a great Thai place that’ll deliver so we can just stay at the shop and I’ll show you around,” Michael offers.

Brian agrees, sliding the green comic book back to him. “Good. Later then, if I don’t see you around.” He grabs the lube again and I see Michael’s face turn red as he looks away.

Jesus, talk about clueless. How did he miss the big neon sign over Brian’s head that whole time? Hell, just the smell alone—but then I realize Michael wasn’t as blind as I thought as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat to adjust himself.

That’s it, buddy. Gotcha good now!

But Brian doesn’t notice because he’s turned his charm back on Justin. He’s taking in the pout and angry stance and his eyes narrow slightly. “I said I’d come right back.”

Justin’s eyes flicker for a moment and then he’s putty again. “I want to come now,” he whines, but Brian doesn’t seem as annoyed by the tone as I would’ve thought.

“That can be arranged,” he growls, looping his arm around Justin’s waist and steering him out.

Before they get out of sight, Justin twists around and plants a hot sloppy kiss on Brian’s lips, his tongue pushing inside and devouring Brian’s mouth.

I peek out the door after them and see they’ve escalated to heavy groping before they even get a few feet. Brian practically has Justin’s pants down and is grinding against him while Justin is clinging to him like a wet noodle as he’s damn near lifted off his feet.

They’re both struggling with the door knob to Justin’s apartment across the way and Brian impatiently bats Justin’s hand aside as he simultaneously pushes the door open and hoists Justin up. Justin’s legs wind around Brian’s waist and his head falls onto Brian’s shoulder with a gasp as Brian’s hands plunge down the back of his sweats. I can see Brian’s knuckles stretching the fabric as he roughly kneads Justin’s ass and Justin’s moans reverberate in the empty hallway. Then Brian’s attacking his exposed neck, moaning pretty loudly himself, before they fall into the apartment and the door slams shut behind them.

I can hear them crashing around inside for a moment before they get far enough away from the door so no one can listen anymore.

Damn. It takes me a second to collect myself again.

When I turn back into my apartment, I collide with Michael. I didn’t realize he’d been watching the show with me.

And judging by the flushed skin and glassy eyes, he’s either going to cum or pass out on the spot. Probably both.

Suddenly, watching the longing drip from his pores, I wonder if exposing him to Brian was such a good idea. But then again, misery loves company. I chuckle and throw my arm around his neck and give him a comforting squeeze.

Welcome to my world, pal.

***

When we get back from the reunion, Justin is grilling Michael about his comic books.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Brian grouses, beating me to the same question, although I would’ve used a little more finesse.

Yeah, he’s a real charmer after he’s seen his mom.

But it is odd that Justin has suddenly taken an interest in Michael’s hobby—three guesses why, and the first two don’t count.

“Uh, I live here?” Justin replies.

“Not here, you don’t,” Brian sneers.

Justin blinks at him. “Right, and you are?”

“Leaving,” Brian snaps. He grabs a new pack of cigarettes off the counter, since he chain smoked the last one at his mother’s, and storms toward the door.

“Wait,” Michael calls. “We were just going to eat.”

We ate at the park, but Brian pauses. “Alright.”

“Great,” Michael smiles, “Justin--”

“No,” Brian interjects, “We’re going out. You can show me this shop of yours. I won’t have time tomorrow.”

Michael glances back and forth between Brian and Justin and I.

It’s crystal clear that Brian doesn’t intend to invite Justin—or me. He’s up to something and I’m not going to let him use Michael for one of his twisted games.

Hell, I’ve just gotten the guy to sort of admit he’s gay. I mean, he might as well have written fuck me on the table with his drool this morning when he met Brian. Getting him to say it out loud is a technicality I intend to remedy shortly, I just didn’t get the chance this morning after the floorshow.

So anyway, I know if Brian starts fucking with Michael’s head, the guy will go so far back into the closet I’ll have to go to Narnia to get him out again. But before I can say anything, Michael, bless his naïve little heart, starts to ask us to join them anyway because he’s just that sweet and that oblivious.

“Do you--”

Brian grabs Michael’s arm, cutting him off, and pulls him toward the door. “Come on.”

Michael gives Justin an apologetic wave and Justin shrugs. “No problem, another time,” he says.

Michael perks up again now that he’s been excused. “You’ll come to the store too? Tomorrow? I’ll show you that--”

“I’m fucking hungry,” Brian barks.

“Brian--” I try to interject.

Justin nods, ignoring us both. “Sure, sounds good,” he says to Michael. Then he turns to me and asks, “Chinese alright? We already ordered, didn’t know you’d be back so soon.” He's walking to the kitchen and says over his shoulder, “Otherwise I wouldn’t have suggested Chinese, I know Brian doesn’t like it.”

Justin's digging in the cabinet for paper plates and doesn’t see Brian’s face turn to stone before he shoves Michael out and slams the door.

***

“I suppose Justin is happy Brian’s coming back, huh?” Michael asks. Jesus, he’s doing a piss poor job of hiding his own excitement as he rocks back and forth on his heels like a toddler on a sugar high.

“Justin doesn’t know yet,” I say as I slide past Michael bouncing in my bedroom doorway and grab my keys. I have to leave now if I’m going to get to the airport on time. Brian’s plane lands in a half hour.

Brian’s coming back for a second interview, but I wouldn’t say Justin’s going to be happy about it when he finds out. Not after the way Brian treated him last time, Justin’s plan back fired big time. He wanted Brian to fuck him again, and he got fucked alright. Afterwards, Brian treated him worse than the used condom he threw in the trash-- chucked aside and forgotten. So Justin made himself scarce and I’ve barely seen him all week. Probably off fucking his brains out to forget my asshole cousin. Thank god. I was embarrassed for him after that ridiculous stunt with the comic books and Chinese food. Who did he think he was kidding?

Michael on the other hand, is a different problem. He has become the President of Brian’s Fan Club. If I hear him say, ‘Brian said’ one more time I’m going to rip his damn tongue out.

“Oh,” Michael replies, brow furrowed. “He said--” he starts, but then he stops abruptly. “You better get going or you’re going to be late.”

“Brian said what?” I ask, a mixture of intrigued and annoyed.

“No, Justin,” Michael sighs flopping on the couch.

Definitely intrigued. When has Michael been talking to Justin? They rarely even said ‘hello’ to each other before last week.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you--”

“Spill it,” I demand, plopping on the end table in front of him.

“He’s kind of nervous about finding a job and he didn’t want anyone to know. So I’ve been helping him.”

“Excuse me?” Justin wasn’t scared of anything, and what the hell could Michael help with?

“He overheard Brian talking about learning art trends from comics and he asked me to teach him some stuff. For his interviews.”

That conniving shit. I’m sure Justin also overheard Brian say he might move to Chicago. “Michael, I hate to say it, but Justin is using you to get closer to Brian.”

Michael shakes his head. “How could he get closer, they’re already fucking!”

“Past tense--”

“I’m really the one using him,” he confesses guiltily.

My god, is this guy really that gullible? “What? How?”

Michael’s really starting to look uncomfortable now. “I just wanted to…talk…about stuff. Brian didn’t really want to… when I asked.”

Oh! “You mean gay stuff!” I blurt out before I can slap my hand over my mouth.

Michael turns white and his eyes are wide as saucers.

“Michael it’s okay, I know you’re gay,” I say gently to reassure him. “You could’ve told me. Hell, you know I’m a hag. Emmett and Ben are here, like all the time. Why didn’t you talk to them?”

“I-I’m not—I mean--”

“Michael--”

“Just leave me alone, he said you’d have to stick your nose in it!” He yells, storming to his bedroom and slamming the door.

Shit. I want to talk to him, but I have to go. “Michael, we’ll talk when I get home, okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—or not,” I quickly amend realizing he doesn’t want to talk to me. That’s the problem. But maybe Brian can get him to open up again. “We’ll order pizza or something when Brian and I get back. Just hang out, okay?”

I don’t get a response, but I know he heard me so that’s the best I can do for now.

I’m so angry, when I see that slut I’m going to—speak of the devil!

Justin is coming up the stairs as I leave my apartment. “You son of a bitch!”

He looks at me blankly. “Hey, Daph,” he replies, unruffled.

“How dare you tell Michael that I’d stick my nose in his business, like I’d hurt him! He’s my friend and my roommate, neither of which you are. To either of us! You know I’ve been trying to get him to come out for months, for his own good. He needs to know that he doesn’t have to hide, that people care about him anyway. Unlike you, you two-faced--”

“Back the fuck up,” Justin snarls. “I am Michael’s friend. And I wouldn’t hurt him either, so whatever it is you think I’ve done, get over it. Michael told me some things in confidence that are none of your fucking business if he doesn’t want to tell you himself. And believe it or not, deciding whether or not to come out to you is pretty small potatoes compared to some of the other shit gay men have to deal with.”

He shoves past me and inserts the key for his apartment into the door. His hand is shaking and he drops it, cursing under his breath. But before he can pick it up again, I step on it, getting his attention back because I’m not done yet.

“By the way, just wanted to let you know, Brian’s coming back,” I say. I see a flicker in his eyes before he can cover it up. Fucking pathetic. “I’m picking him up now. Then we’ll probably go to Babylon later. Do come along and make a fool of yourself again. I haven’t been that entertained in a long time.”

As I rush down the stairs, I hear his apartment door slam behind me. I doubt I’ll be seeing him again before Monday, but that is still way too soon.

***

We’re back from the airport, but Michael is gone. Brian and I go across the street to the sub shop and eat a sandwich before heading over to Woody’s. I’m about to beg off, I want to stay home and wait for Michael, we really need to talk, but Emmett calls and he’s having some sort of crisis with Ben so he wants to drown his sorrows. What the hell, I invite him to meet us.

It doesn’t take long for Emmett to get totally shit-faced, I think he took some E before meeting us, and now he’s all over Brian. Brian in turn is all over the back alley with any trick who will suck his dick. But both of them get bored quickly and we head to Babylon.

I’m dancing with Emmett, Brian is in the backroom already, when I spot Justin. “I can’t believe he’s here.” The guy’s a bigger glutton for punishment than I thought.

“Ben?” Emmett mumbles. I never did quite make out what they’re fighting about, but at least it’s a good sign he wants to see him.

“No, Justin.”

“Oh, good,” Emmett slurs before slumping over on me.

Or maybe not.

I can’t hold Emmett up for long so I drag him over to the bar and prop him up against the wall. I get a bottle of water and hand it to him when I see Brian coming towards us. And Justin’s on a direct path to intercept him until he sees me. Then he veers to the dance floor and disappears into the crowd.

“Fucking twat,” Brian mutters under his breath.

“Uh-huh,” I snort, slamming the shot Brian sets in front of me.

Brian gives me a sidelong glance. “Trouble at Peyton Place?” I glare at him and he rolls his eyes. “First, you throw a snit because Michael’s gone out without you, then the Beauty School Dropout,” he nods at Emmett snoring against my chest where he’s passed out, “has boyfriend problems, and now I’m sensing a rift with your other loyal minion. Hea--”

“Loyal my ass,” I spit angrily. “He told Michael not to talk to me about anything personal because I’d stick my nose in his business. He is my business, he’s my--”

“I told him that,” Brian says, his face turning to stone. “You going to ostracize me now too, because I hurt your feelings? Grow up, Daph.”

“What? How could you?” I cry loud enough to make Emmett bolt upright again. “You know how much I care about Michael, how much I want him to be happy. He’s miserable in the closet and--”

“He’s not in the closet,” Brian snaps back at me, “and that’s why he’s miserable. That’s why I told him not to talk to you. You live in your own little fantasyland, imagining you can make everything the way you want it, instead of the way it is.”

“That’s not true,” I reply, a little less empathically.

“And that’s probably why he talked to Justin,” Brian continues ignoring me. Dammit, I hate when he decides to lecture like my big brother. Fucking hypocrite. “He wanted advice on what to do with an overbearing PFLAG mother from hell, but unfortunately, I don’t have that problem. I guess Justin does. Doesn’t surprise me,” he sneers under his breath as he downs another shot. He slams the glass on the bar, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he closes his eyes against the burn.

Guess that one wasn’t watered down like the one he gave me. He’s always looking after me.

Asshole.

Once again, he’s succeeded in making me feel like the shit I am.

“Brian--” I want him to forgive me, though for what I’m not sure since it doesn’t have anything to do with him, but he’s already walking away. Whatever, he’ll have forgotten about it by morning, he never holds onto any bad feelings like that. He just says what’s on his mind and moves on.

Something I need to do when I find Justin. But I can’t leave Emmett alone so I’ll take him home and apologize to Justin in the morning. Hopefully I can at least talk to Michael tonight.

Why didn't he tell me about his mother? He's never said anything about his family before. I could--- Shit.

Yeah, I know, that's what Brian was talking about.

***

Brian went up on the catwalk and scanned the dance floor for a potential trick. After a few minutes, he found the one he wanted and went down to get him. It wasn't hard to keep track of the tall man with his long black hair, but what Brian couldn't see behind the man's large frame was the small blond dancing with him.

Before Brian could reach his prey, Justin had dragged him into the backroom. Not one to give up so easily, Brian followed. He lost them temporarily in the maze of bodies, but they settled against the wall under a dim light fixture and Brian recognized Justin's blond head.

Considering the best way to reclaim his trick, Brian watched for a moment as Justin and the trick fumbled with their clothing. “You tweaked or something?” the trick asked, noting Justin’s shaking hand.

“Or something,” Justin muttered and the shaking grew worse the harder he tried to control it.

“Yeah, well, don’t bite my dick,” the guy said nervously.

“Good advice,” Brian told him, stepping up next to them. He pushed the trick to his knees in front of Justin. “Need a hand?” he whispered huskily in Justin's ear.

Brian felt Justin stiffen for a moment, but then he relaxed and nodded slightly when he realized Brian wasn’t patronizing him. Brian wouldn’t bother. He wasn’t blind, he’d seen the scar on the kid’s elbow when they’d fucked before. He’d even noticed the slight tremor the kid had tried to hide from him a couple times when he was really tired. So it wasn’t hard to figure out there was some sort of nerve damage. But that hardly made him a cripple and Brian wasn’t about to treat him like one.

No, Brian’s interest was purely sexual. The kid was a good fuck and seeing his pale skin and blond hair in contrast with the trick’s black hair and dark skin gave Brian some very lewd ideas.

He took Justin’s hands and put them against the wall in front of him. Justin fidgeted for a moment, rolling his damaged hand to the side instead of the palm and Brian kissed his neck. “Okay?” he asked, rubbing soothing circles on Justin’s stomach under his t-shirt.

Justin sighed and nodded again, Christ he was so fucking easy, and Brian slid his hands to Justin’s zipper. In a few short seconds he had the kid’s cock out and was holding it, stroking it, for the trick to see.

***

Justin gasped when the trick’s tongue circled the head of his dick. It was a good thing Brian was holding him up or he would’ve slid right to the floor. Maybe he shouldn’t have had that shot with the medication, but the fucking pills hadn’t helped and at least now the pain had dulled to a slight throb.

And that was really the only reason he was there. He didn’t care that Brian was back or that Daphne was being a cunt. He needed a drink and a blow job. He needed to forget about school and interviews and his hand and his fucking dad for one night. For just one night he wanted to feel good again.

And now he felt really good. Not because of the booze or the pills or the trick, but because Brian was touching him. Brian was going to fuck him. He knew that before Brian pushed his pants down. He knew it as certainly as he knew he needed air. Brian wanted him.

Brian kept saying it was just a fuck, but as long as he kept fucking Justin, Justin didn't care.

***

When Brian pushed his pants down over his ass, Justin arched his back, thrusting his hips toward Brian. Brian chuckled to himself. Yeah, the kid was easy, but his hot tight ass more than made up for the less than thrilling chase.

Brian lubed his fingers and slid one, then two, into Justin's hole. Justin eagerly spread his legs as wide as he could with this pants binding his thighs and pushed back to impale himself further on Brian's fingers.

Jesus, Brian couldn't remember the last time he'd seen anything so hot as Justin rocked his hips back and forth, thrusting forward to drive his dick deeper into the trick's mouth and then pulling back to fuck himself on Brian's hand. Justin leaned forward a little further, sliding his hands up the wall and resting his forearms on the brick. Brian could tell he'd completely given himself over to the sensation as he pressed his forehead to his arm, face hidden, seemingly blocking everything else out to focus on what he was feeling.

But Brian wanted to make sure Justin at least knew it was him when he slid his dick into the kid's tight hole. He buried himself to the hilt, holding Justin's hips still with one arm across his pelvis as he wrapped the other around Justin's shoulders and pulled him back against his chest. Brian straightened to his full height, practically lifting Justin off his feet as he drove his cock deeper. Justin was barely balancing on his toes, pinned to Brian's chest as the older man held him tight, suspended right there, between pleausre and pain-- between fulfilled and desperate.

"Fuck...god," Justin moaned.

Close, Brian thought, but not quite--

"Brian, please..."

Brian didn't think he would ever get tired of hearing Justin say his name, begging for his cock, but he'd never admit it.

He let the kid slump against the wall again and pushed the trick away from Justin’s dick. Fisting Justin’s cock himself, he fucked him hard until he came.

***

Justin was vaguely aware of Brian pulling out as he clung to the wall, using all his remaining strength not to fall. He thought his heart would pound out of his chest and his artist’s eye imagined the dark red splatter it would leave as it slapped against the wall before sliding to the ground.

***

Brian had discarded the condom, zipped his pants and was turning to leave when he saw Justin crumple to the floor.

Jesus Christ, the kid was tweaked and he was crashing hard.

Brian caught Justin under the arms and pulled him back up. Jerking the kid’s pants up, he buttoned them and dragged Justin out the back door.

“What the fuck did you take?” he barked, studying the kid’s face under the streetlamp as they stumbled along the sidewalk. When he saw Justin stare back at him blankly, he pushed him up against the wall and shouted, “You stupid twat! I should’ve just left you in there with your pants down for any cummers.”

“Fuck off,” Justin mumbled, swatting Brian away. He seemed to be coming back around with the fresh air. “What do you care anyway?” he spat, grimacing as his hand spasmed again. He shoved it in his pocket and started walking away.

But Brian saw him weaving and he was afraid the kid would trip and crack his head open. He didn’t really care, but explaining what happened to Daphne would be a major pain in the ass. That was also the only reason he pulled the kid out of the backroom too, though he didn’t regret it as much as he thought he would. Leaving behind some tweaked out twink asking to get a train run on his ass was different than leaving someone who obviously indulged in a little too much pain management and got in over their head.

Brian would only grudgingly admit he could relate to that.

He pulled out his phone and called for a taxi, grabbing Justin by the arm before he stepped off the curb and into the path of an SUV barreling down the street.

***

“Jesus, would you just stand still for a minute,” Brian snapped.

“What the fuck?” Justin huffed. “You got what you wanted, now leave me alone.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “I can’t, Daphne would kick my ass if--”

“She wouldn’t fucking care,” Justin interjected bitterly.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, you’ll kiss and make up tomorrow,” Brian snarled impatiently.

That image made Justin wrinkle his nose and Brian laughed. “Okay, so kiss me instead,” he offered, pulling Justin against his chest.

But Justin managed to pull away again. His head was still swirling, but he knew what was going on and he wasn’t going to fall for it again. “No, we fucked, it’s over, and you’re just going to treat me like shit again tomorrow, so don’t be nice now.”

“I’m not being nice,” Brian smirked. “I want to fuck you again, since I’m here,” he added, obviously to make sure Justin understood it was just out of convenience. “That’s all.”

Justin heard the pointed edge to Brian’s tone and nodded to show he understood perfectly.

That was all he could handle right now anyway.

***

I wake up the next morning and Brian's not on the couch. Big surprise. And Michael’s room is empty. Guess he’s still mad enough not to come home last night. I call his cell and leave a contrite message before brewing a pot of coffee and pouring two mugs. I carry them across the hall and balance them carefully as I knock on Justin’s door. There’s no answer but it’s almost noon so I have no qualms about knocking harder. Still no answer. I try the knob and it turns so I poke my head inside. He might suspect it’s me and refuse to answer. I glance around the kitchen and living room, but I don’t see him, so he must still be asleep or out. That’s the end of my B&E comfort zone though so I pull my head back and I’m shutting the door again when I spot Brian’s jacket on the floor by the kitchen table.

Christ, I hope Brian’s either going to admit he likes Justin now, or Justin’s at least accepted that it’s just fucking. I can’t deal with their shit anymore.

God help us all if Brian gets the job and moves back here.

***

Brian comes back to the apartment about an hour later and pours himself what’s left of the coffee.

“Have a good time?” I ask sweetly.

He grunts a response as he goes to shower.

“I’m going to go over and talk to Justin. I’ll pick up your jacket since you left it.”

He blinks at me and slams the bathroom door shut.

Hey, I know it’s none of my business who he fucks, but he doesn’t really think he’s going to fuck one of my friends and I won’t know, does he?

***

I knock and Justin opens the door immediately. “I was wond--” he starts, then freezes. He’s holding Brian’s jacket out, obviously thinking I’m him.

“I told Brian I’d pick it up,” I say and his face hardens. He thrusts it at me and I quickly add, “Since he’s gotta get ready for his interview and I had to come over and apologize anyway.”

“Tell him I said good luck,” he says coldly, tossing the jacket at me and shutting the door.

“Justin,” I knock again. “Please, just let me--”

The door opens again and he glares at me. “What? You want to tell me to stay away from Brian too? Fuck you, Daphne, what I do is none of your business.”

“Jesus, would you shut up a second,” I yell over him. “Brian must’ve really fucked you senseless if you don’t understand English anymore. I said I wanted to apologize.”

He looks incredulous as he crosses his arms and waits. What a queen. “I was wrong. Brian told me what really happened. I’m sorry I said those things to you, I want us to be friends again.” I start to wonder if he’s going to make me crawl over broken glass first.

He shakes his head. “We were never really friends.”

What the--

I want to say of course we were, but the truth is, he’s right. We’re just neighbors--acquaintances. He’s been around for about a year and we hang out, but he’s never been very open about stuff and I suddenly wonder why. No time like the present to find out. “Wanna go get some lunch?”

He blinks at me and it looks like he’s going to shoot me down again, but then he smiles slightly. “Okay. Want to invite--”

I cringe. If he’s going to use me to get closer to Brian again, I guess we really don’t have much to base a friendship on.

“I guess not,” he says, reading my expression. “Is he still mad at you?”

Oh, he means Michael. “Yeah,” I confess. “He didn’t even come home last night. Got any suggestions?”

Justin shrugs. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

We stop in my apartment to leave a note for Michael to join us at the diner down the street if he shows up. We’re just leaving again when Brian comes out of the bathroom, a towel barely covering his crotch. Not that he’s being modest, he just happens to be drying himself off. He tosses the towel back into the bathroom and walks over to the living room window where his suit is hanging on the curtain rod.

“Glad to see you two kissed and made up,” he says, his back to us so he doesn’t see Justin and I roll our eyes at him together.

“Kiss my ass,” Justin snarks back, but he’s smiling and when Brian turns around, he’s smiling too.

This is a completely different attitude than last time. I can’t wait to find out what really happened between them last night.

“We’re going to lunch at the diner,” I tell Brian, feeling a little left out of the lovefest when they start eye fucking each other again. “If Michael comes back, tell him he’s welcome to join us in case he doesn’t see the note, okay?”

Brian nods curtly, turning his attention back to dressing. “Good luck,” I say and we leave. Though don’t think I didn’t notice Justin didn’t say anything else to Brian, like wishing him luck, before we left.

“Oh, Daph, your drunken sailor called,” Brian says to me as I open the door.

“What?”

“Emmett,” Brian smirks. “Seems his little shore leave last night has been extended to a real liberty pass and he wants--”

“What are you talking about?” I huff. He can be so weird sometimes.

“Ben didn’t go home last night,” he replies pissily since I didn’t appreciate his…whatever the fuck that was. “I told him to go out and get fucked to celebrate, but he’d rather cry in your beer some more.”

“Really? Where is he?” I exclaim exasperated. That’s not like Ben at all!

“How the fuck should I know?” Brian snaps defensively.

“It was rhetorical, asshole,” I mutter back.

Jesus, of course I don't think Brian kidnapped Ben. For one, he promised he wouldn't fuck my fri-- any more of my friends. Besides, I already know he was with Justin last night. But Brian looks really steamed so I blow him a kiss to smooth things over as I steer Justin out of the apartment. We need to--

“Should we go see if Emmett’s okay?” Justin asks and I nod.

How does he think he’s not our friend when he’s so sweet? I feel like an even bigger heel for thinking he was taking advantage of Michael before.

***

We picked Emmett up and took him to lunch with us. He spent a long time crying in his soup before we found out what the fight was really about.

“He wants to go to Tibet,” Emmett sobs, “because he can’t find peace here.”

“What?” Justin and I exclaim in baffled unison.

“He doesn’t love me,” Emmett hiccups. “He would rather spend the next two years jerking off alone and learning about inner tranquility from a bald-headed troll in a sheet. I gave him my best thread count and this is the thanks I get? I don’t think so.” He slams his fists on the table, snarling, “I hope the cheap sheets they give him pill and chafe his balls.”

I rub his shoulders to calm him and we all sit in silence. What more is there to say?

“What exactly is his reason for needing peace?” Justin asks after a moment.

“What?” Emmett blinks.

“If someone’s looking for peace, that means they want to end some sort of upheaval,” Justin replies logically, “so what is it?”

Emmett shrugged tiredly. “Fuck me if I know. Let’s talk about something else for a while, sweetie,” he says to me, “I feel like a 300 lb gorilla is tap dancing in my head.”

“I wonder why,” I retort gently, ruffling his hair. “So, Justin,” I turn the subject back to this morning, “looks to me like you and Brian have made peace. What’s going on?”

He pushes his plate away and tucks his hands into his lap. “Nothing.”

“Looked like something this morning,” I argue.

“That something was fucking. To Brian fucking is nothing, so…” he raises his eyebrow and I finish, “nothing’s going on.” He nods.

“You okay with that?” I ask.

Justin smiles slightly. “I have nothing better to do for a while.”

I wish I could say I’m relieved about his new attitude, but I have a bad feeling there’s still going to be some more upheaval before anyone really finds peace.

***

We three ‘girls’ spent the afternoon together shopping, Justin and I decided a little diversion therapy would be good for Emmett. Then we ate dinner after and went home.

Michael and Brian were both out. I peek in Michael’s room and it looks like he hasn’t even been back. Now I’m starting to worry.

“He’s probably at his mom’s,” Justin reasons.

“Really? That doesn’t make much sense considering Brian said his mom is totally overbearing and--”

“Daph,” Justin warns, “Leave him be, I think I know what’s going on and he’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

“I’m not trying to be nosy, honestly. I respect that he’s got things going on that he doesn’t want to talk about, like you,” I add slyly and he looks away confirming my suspicions. “But I can’t help worrying about him when he disappears into thin air!”

I almost added ‘like you’ to that last statement as well since he disappears for days when he’s fucking and partying, but I thought better of it. I got the message that I’m supposed to wait for him to tell me when he’s ready too and if I push too hard now I’ll lose any ground I’ve made with him today.

“Looks like Brian’s been back,” he says, changing the subject. He nods toward the recliner where Brian’s suit has been discarded.

Now that’s odd, Brian didn’t bother to hang it up and he’s the biggest label queen I know. I pick up the jacket and slacks and shake out the wrinkles before hanging it up again.

“So are you going out tonight?” I ask as I try to smooth out a few more creases.

Justin is staring at Brian’s suit and slowly shakes his head. “No, I think I’ll just rent a movie or something. Want to come over?”

I can’t help wondering if he’s staying home because he’s hoping to bump into Brian or if it’s because he suspects Brian will be out and he doesn’t want to see him.

“Actually, I want to see that new movie with Viggo. Want to go?” I offer as another alternative.

Justin looks contemplative and I know he’s envisioning dirty Viggo riding a horse across the desert. And because it’s so dusty maybe he goes skinny dipping in a waterhole. Yeah, naked wet Viggo is a good way to spend the evening. I can’t help smiling and Justin must be reading my mind when he smiles back and says, “Sounds good.”

Guess he doesn’t want to see Brian. That’s interesting-- wonder what he’s up to now.

***

After the movie, Justin and I go to Woody’s for a few drinks, but then we decide to make it an early night and head home. It’s been a long day, and I can’t believe we spent the whole time together, especially after what happened yesterday. But he’s forgiven me and he even opens up a little and talks about his mom and his sister and growing up in Denver. His parents are divorced and it sounds like his dad is a real asshole. He left them when he found out Justin was gay. I ask why Justin didn’t stay in Colorado, or at least on the west coast for the sunshine, and his face clouds over and he mutters something about PIFA being the best art school for his style and then the conversation shuts down again.

At least he’s lightened up once more by the time we get home so we say goodnight pleasantly and I feel good because we seem to have made some progress. I still don’t understand why it took so long to get to know him though. I guess I just didn’t notice he wasn’t always part of the circle because he was generally in the room somewhere.

I go to my own apartment and it’s no surprise Brian is still out, but he was obviously back briefly because there’s a note to put my headphones on tonight. Guess he plans on ‘entertaining’ on the sofa. Whatever, I’m exhausted from running around all day so I doubt I’ll hear anything.

As I go to my room, I do notice Michael’s door is shut so I guess he finally came back. I’ll make him some blueberry waffles in the morning to apologize and hopefully we’ll get to talk.

***

As tired as I was, I didn’t get much sleep because I’m anxious to find out what’s going on with Michael and if Emmett ever made up with Ben. Something about Ben’s plan to move to Tibet is nagging at the back of my mind, but I haven’t been able to put my finger on it.

I finally give up and just go to the kitchen to make my waffles. It’s still early, but I figure Michael went to bed before I did so he should be up soon too. The smell will probably coax him out.

Brian must’ve decided to spend the night out again since he’s not on the sofa, but I could’ve sworn I heard someone getting a workout a few hours earlier. I skirt the sofa, leery of sitting on it until I can clean it with the wet vac. Just to be safe.

I’m about to warm up the waffle pan when there’s a knock at the door and my first thought is that it’s Justin—or maybe not.

Brian didn’t end up there again last night, did he?

It’s Emmett on my doorstep and he looks like he slept less than I did.

“I’m sorry, hon, I just been waiting for you to get up. I was watching the light. Can I come in?”

He looks so miserable and done in I have to give him a hug. “He didn’t come home again?” Emmett tears up and I hug him tighter. “Sit,” I gesture to the table, “and I’ll get you some coffee.” I set the pot to brew and start mixing my batter. “Hungry? I’m making waffles.” Actually, maybe he needs to just do something and not think about Ben for a little bit again. “Here,” I hand him the bowl. “Whip this together and--”

I hear Michael’s door open behind me and Emmett freezes when he looks over my shoulder.

Oh, shit.

I turn slowly and see Ben.

“You bastard,” Emmett hisses angrily, “How could you—I—I--” hot tears start streaming down his face and he rushes to the door, but Ben beats him there.

“Emmett, wait, it’s not what you think.”

I’m watching them fight over the door knob, so I don’t notice Brian coming out of the Michael’s room until he’s next to me pouring a cup of coffee.

“Brian?” Emmett and I say in unison.

Emmett glares at Ben, wiping his face with his sleeve. “You’re right, it’s not what I thought. It’s worse!” He shoves Ben aside and leaves, but Ben--smart or stupid man, I’m not sure right now—doggedly follows him.

“What’s going on?” Justin pokes his head in the open door.

Brian crosses the kitchen in two long strides and pushes Justin back out before slamming the door in his face.

“Brian!” I run over and open it again. “Justin,” he’s starting down the stairs, “please come back.”

“I have an appointment--”

“Just for a minute,” I plead and he turns around.

“You cannot treat my friends like that,” I snap at Brian. I’m so angry at him right now I want to claw his eyes out.

His face is blank, which I know means he’s covering something, but I don’t care right now.

Justin pokes his head in again, eyes locked on me and noticeably ignoring Brian. “I just wanted to apologize for last--” his gaze drops to the floor and he’s fidgeting with the door lock, “you know, getting weird about my dad.”

“Justin, I understand. If you want to ta--”

“You want to go see that exhibit I was telling you about later?” Justin cuts me off.

I have to admit it’s kind of surreal to be having a normal-like conversation with Justin while Judas slurps coffee behind me. But of course, Brian can’t stand being ignored.

“Well,” Brian sneers, “a second date, this must be serious.” He dumps the rest of his coffee in the sink and heads to the bathroom. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”

Now that he’s had the last word he's making his dramatic exit, but I’ll be damned if he’s getting away that easily.

“You fucked Ben, didn’t you?” Justin blurts out, deflating him before I can.

Brian stops, turns, and glowers at us. “I knew you couldn’t mind your own fucking business. This whole little circle of fags is really just a bunch of lesbians with dicks, isn’t it? Whatever, I’m outta here anyway.”

“Need a ride to the airport?” Justin offers sweetly, but his eyes are hard as stone.

I think Brian is more surprised than I am. “What the fuck?” he growls. “You going to push me out of the car when a truck goes by?”

Justin smiles genuinely and shakes his head, but I can’t help muttering, “I would.”

Brian glares at me and I shrug. “What? You fucked up Brian, don’t expect me to be happy about it. I can’t believe you fucked Ben! After I--”

Justin glances at me and then back to Brian. “Your flight is at two, right?” he interrupts. “I have an interview near the airport this afternoon so it’s not a problem. I’ll be back at noon.

He’s walking to the door, but Brian stops him. “You don’t want to stay and rip off my other nut?” he sneers.

“They’re more useful to me right where they are,” Justin deadpans.

“What?” I huff. “You don’t care that--”

“No, I don’t,” Justin snaps back. He looks apologetic and runs his hand through his hair. “I’m late, I just—I just saw Emmett and Ben run out of here and I was worried. But now that I know that’s all--”

“That’s all,” I parrot pissily.

“— it was, then it has nothing to do with me and I can’t do anything about it(,) so I’ll talk to you later.”

“Emmett’s supposed to be your friend,” I remind him angrily. Maybe this is why we were never close before. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.

“And Ben’s his boyfriend,” Justin retorts sharply. “Brian may have fucked him and you may not like it, but I seriously doubt he tied Ben to the bed and forced him. That’s what Ben and Emmett have to deal with now and it has nothing to do with me.” He tentatively squeezes my arm. “Or you. Don’t make it worse for them by mixing it up more.” He’s petting my sleeve, it almost seems like he’s pleading, and for some reason I want to just hug him. I think he cares more than he wants to and it…hurts him.

“Can I still be mad at Brian for fucking Ben after I asked him not to?” I ask grudgingly.

Justin raises an eyebrow. “If he agreed not to, yeah,” he smirks.

“I didn’t agree,” Brian points out, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “What the fuck would I do that for?”

Justin sighs, “Whatever,” and opens the door. “I’ll be back later,” he tells Brian and leaves.

When he’s gone, Brian and I just stare at each other for a few moments and then it suddenly hits me. If Brian and Ben were in Michael’s room, Michael didn’t come home again last night.

Where the hell is he?

“Michael left a message last night,” Brian says, as if reading my mind.

I push play on the answering machine and skip a message from my mom and then hear Michael. “Uh, Daphne, it’s Michael. I--um--I-- if Ben comes by tell him I’m still at my mom’s and he can--ah--come over again if he wants. Thanks. Oh, hi, Brian, if you hear this. Bye.”

“What the hell?” I stare at the machine but it just beeps and resets itself.

“Ben was here looking for him when I got back,” Brian adds.

I gape at him. Ben and Michael barely ever said anything to each other. That was part of why I tried to get Michael to open up more. I knew if he was gay, being friends with Emmett and Ben would make coming out easier. But Michael had always hung back a little—like Justin. No wonder they bonded first.

Okay, I now realize I was really going about this all wrong. But how do I fix it?

Shit, first I have to figure out what’s really going on.

“Do you think Ben broke up with Emmett because he’s in love with Michael?” I ask.

Brian just snorts at me.

“Wait,” I mutter to myself, pacing behind the sofa. “You said Ben wanted someone more aggressive, so falling for Michael wouldn’t make much sense. Unless it’s not really a more controlling top he’s looking for, but a less controlling bottom.” I glance at Brian expectantly, but he’s shaking his head. “Yes,” I argue. “Everybody’s not driven by their dicks like you, Brian. Some people need the emotional connection and you said it yourself, Emmett’s playing a role. I think Ben’s realized Emmett doesn’t really need him, but that’s what he wants. He wants to be needed, and Michael’s perfect. Just com--”

Brian snorts again, “Bullshit. Ben’s positive. Michael’s uncle is positive. Michael just wants a broad understanding shoulder to cry on while his uncle is in the hospital and Ben’s a big sap,” he sneers. “No self-respecting queer stands around the den of death to have a meet and greet the reaper while he checks the list for your name.”

Yeah, Brian doesn’t deal with his own mortality very well. Or hospitals.

And don’t think I haven’t noticed that everyone knows about Michael’s uncle and mother but me. But Michael and I will have to talk about that later.

“But that’s what I’m saying,” I press. “Michael needed him and Ben needed to be needed so it makes sen--”

“Michael doesn’t need that,” Brian snaps.

“How do you know?” I retort.

Come on, since when does Brian care about anyone but himself? I love him, I do, but really, let’s be honest here. He fucked Ben without any regard for his relationship with Emmett!

And I was all for Ben and Emmett making it work, but if it doesn’t, who’s to say Michael and Ben can’t try? Especially if they’re really more comp--

“I told you, Ben needs to get fucked and handholding a virgin afraid of his mother is not going to get his needs met.”

“We were talking about Michael, not Ben,” I remind him testily. He hardly knows Michael, but I want to hear his brilliant insight since he’s God’s gift to gay PA—and he doesn’t even live here. Yet.

“I was,” Brian shoots back. “Michael’s sweet. He doesn’t need shit to be more complicated. Ben’s not the right guy for him.”

What the--

Suddenly I hear warning bells.

Brian can’t mean—

“Brian, you don’t think you’re the right guy do you?” I ask, nervously chortling a little, before I can stop myself.

But he doesn’t answer. He doesn't have to.

Oh, god, the look on his face says it all.

“Did you take that E in my pocket?” Brian asks flatly. I shake my head and take a step back. I know he’s pissed because he’s clenching his teeth. “Then what the fuck are you on?” he huffs. “I’m certainly not interested in coddling some virgin with mommy issues. I’m not interested in anyone who can’t get me off with the maximum of pleasure and--”

“The minimum of bullshit,” I finish for him. I’ve heard the mantra before. “Like Justin?” I ask. I know Justin seems more at ease now, but what’s Brian’s perception? “Have you two--”

“Mind your own fucking business,” Brian growls.

Not helpful at all.

“Brian, despite what you think, some of this is my business. He glares at me and I hold my hand up. “Not who you fuck, but the aftermath when you leave definitely affects me. You’re like a hurricane.”

Brian’s picking at some imaginary spot on his arm. He does that when he’s uncomfortable so I know I’ve got his attention.

I’m not bringing Justin or Michael up again or how Brian fucked them both up last time. Hopefully, whatever Justin and Brian have worked out this time will make it easier on Justin when Brian’s gone again. And I have a feeling finding out Brian fucked Ben in his bed, especially if he has a thing for either one of them, will definitely end Michael’s crush.

But that leaves the biggest problem. “You got your rocks off, but what about the rest of us? Ben and Emmett’s relationship is over and probably my friendship with them too(,) because it’s my fault you’re here!”

Brian turns his back and shrugs as he starts repacking his bag. “I stink,” he answers, though the double entendre doesn’t escape me, “I’m gonna get in the shower.”

“Brian,” I snap, demanding an answer. Can’t he take responsibility for once? I know Justin said Ben was part of the equation too, and I agree, but the point is, I asked Brian not to fuck my friends because I knew something like this would happen! And regardless of whether he agreed or not, it was a shitty thing to do.

“What?” he glowers at me. “I’m an asshole, big surprise. You all know it, live with it.” He turns back to his bag, but adds over his shoulder, “They won’t blame you for that.”

Startled, I back track. “Brian, I didn’t mean it like that. I love you just the way you are. And I wanted us all to be friends when you move back, but you make it difficult for anyone to get close to you. It’s like you do shit on purpose to drive people away.”

“It’s about time you caught on,” he sneers. “It’s been what, ten years of you hanging on while I tried to shake you off?”

Cheap shot, but I know he doesn’t mean it and I’m not backing down again. Not when I’ve obviously hit close to home. “Brian, is that why you fucked Ben when I asked you not to? Why you treat Justin like shit even though you keep fucking him? Do you want to be alone, without any friends, when you come back? Because you--”

“I’m not coming back,” he announces before shutting the bathroom door to end anymore discussion.

“What’s going on?” Michael asks from behind me. Damn, I didn’t hear him come in.

I’m about to ask Michael where he’s been, but he looks…tense. So I quickly rethink my approach. “Michael, thanks for calling last night. I was starting to worry about you.”

He relaxes slightly. “Sorry, had stuff to take care of.”

He pushes past me to his room and I know I should let him go, but I don’t know what kind of damage Brian and Ben left behind so I jump ahead to intercept him.

“I know I was butting in before and I didn’t mean to upset you. I want to help, to listen if you need anything.”

I know I’m gambling here, he can just tell me to fuck off and leave in a huff again, but he actually looks relieved. “I overreacted. Sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” I say with a smile. “No need.”

“Sorry’s bullshit,” he smiles back. “That’s what Brian says.”

“Right.” Monkey see, monkey do. “Have you eaten yet? How about we go out for breakfast, my treat to not say I’m sorry.” He hesitates and I add, “A lot has been going on, it’ll give me a chance to fill you in.”

But he’s still not convinced. “Should we wait for Brian?” he asks, gesturing toward the bathroom. “He can come too. I don’t want him to think I’ve been avoiding him while he was here.”

Right. But with any luck, I can keep it that way before he really falls for Brian—and then the asshole never comes back.

Guess Brian decided the Pitts wasn’t alluring enough after all.

“He’s got other plans,” I reply vaguely.

Michael looks crushed, but he shrugs. “I’ll just catch up with him later then.”

I let him hang onto that little hope as I steer him out to the hall and we run into Justin on his way back in.

“Hey,” he greets us. “Michael.”

Michael smiles. “Hi, Justin. Sorry I haven’t been around, you know--”

“No problem. We can talk later. I have that interview this afternoon, so I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Good luck. But you don’t need it, your new sketches are great!”

“Thanks. Hey, I asked Daphne before, I’m going to this gallery exhibit later, you might like it. Want to come?”

Michael shakes his head. “I have to work this afternoon.”

“Maybe another time. Daph? I don’t think you gave me an answer before.”

“I think I can, but it depends on if Emmett shows up at work this afternoon. I was only working a split, but I might end up doing a double to cover.”

“Is Emmett sick?” Michael asks.

“Sort of,” I reply, nudging him down the stairs. “I’ll fill you in. How about another time, Justin? I don’t want to leave you hanging all day waiting for an answer.”

“Sure,” he nods. “Later.” He walks over to our door and knocks.

I turn back and tell him, “Go on in, Brian can’t hear you. He’s in the shower.”

“Thanks.” Justin lets himself into our apartment and when I turn around, Michael looks crestfallen.

Shit. “Michael, something wrong?” I ask, though I know what it is.

He just shakes his head and walks away. “Michael?” I plead, trailing after him.

“Doesn’t look so past tense to me. See, Justin doesn’t have to use me to get to Brian.”

It takes me a minute, but then I realize he’s talking about what I said before. And that should make him happy, that Justin’s not using him, but it doesn’t because he obviously wanted to believe it a little.

“Come on,” I fling my arm around his shoulders, “the café around the corner has this ridiculously stuffed waffle with hash browns and bacon so greasy you’re gonna need Captain Astro to unclog your arteries when you’re done. You’ll love it.”

***

Brian heard Daphne talking to Michael, and then they left. She probably wanted to keep Michael away from him until he was gone.

Brian stripped off his sweats and started the shower. He’d just stepped inside when there was a knock on the door and he assumed it was Daphne coming back for one last dig. He yanked the curtain back and barked, “What?”

Justin stuck his head in the door.

***

Justin couldn’t take his eyes off Brian and the water running over his naked body. “I—I saw Daphne and Michael leaving and she said I could come in. I just wanted to let you know that I was finished sooner than I thought so if you haven’t eaten yet, we have time to stop somewhere,” he offered.

Brian smirked at him. “Come here.”

Justin blinked. “What for?”

“I’m hungry.”

Justin raised an eyebrow. “What for?” he teased again as he stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Brian surprised him by reaching out and snatching his wrist. He stumbled when he was yanked forward, but Brian caught him, hauling him under the water.

“Hey!” he sputtered. “My clothes--”

“You have more,” Brian replied gruffly, kissing him hard.

“My interview,” Justin protested weakly.

Brian unbuttoned his shirt. “You need to change anyway.”

Justin noted the mocking tone and shoved him away. “Why?” he asked, consciously looking down at his soaked shirt and slacks.

“Ryder or VanGuard?”

Justin blinked at him. “What?”

“Near the airport, it’s either Ryder or VanGuard.”

“VanGuard. Ryder was last week,” Justin boasted. They were the two best firms in the city.

“You didn’t wear this, did you?” Brian asked, tossing Justin’s shirt on the floor.

“No,” Justin scowled, batting Brian’s hands away. He wanted Brian to fuck him, not fuck with him.

Brian just grabbed for him again. “Good, then you have a decent shot.”

Justin ignored the backhanded compliment. He didn’t need Brian’s advice. “I have to change now,” Justin huffed, trying to get away. “I don’t want to be late.”

“Yes, you do,” Brian countered. “VanGuard isn’t worth the time.”

“What the fuck do you know?” Justin scoffed. “They’re the best--”

“They just made the CEO’s pansy--and I don’t mean that in a good way--nephew full partner. I told him to shove his penny-ante junior exec offer and you’d be better off doing the same. With that idiot in charge of their new accounts, VanGuard’s going to be a laughingstock in a matter of months, and in the red by fiscal year end.”

Before Justin could say anything else, before he understood Brian was saying he hadn’t taken the job, wouldn’t be coming back, Brian jerked him against his chest and kissed him again.

***

The kid was stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. Brian knew he’d make the right decision. And he was right. After a moment, Justin stopped struggling and gave in.

Despite the wet clothes, Justin was quickly stripped and moaning loudly as Brian jerked him off. His fingers deftly stroked Justin’s dick until he couldn’t stand up straight anymore. Then Brian squeezed the sensitive tip and whispered dirty commands in Justin’s ear until he came hard.

Justin’s legs gave out and Brian let him sink to his knees, guiding Justin’s panting mouth to his dick. He stepped out of the spray and Justin’s hot breath in contrast to the cool air on his skin made his cock harder. Then it was surrounded by wet heat again.

Fuck, he loved Justin’s mouth.

A cloud developed in his haze and Brian shoved it aside.

It was just another convenient mouth. Still plenty of them in Chicago. Or anywhere else.

***

“Don’t you ever get enough?” Justin groaned as Brian rolled another condom on his dick and flipped him over. Not that he was complaining, though he wouldn’t be able to sit through an interview later, if he really wanted to.

“No such thing,” Brian replied, his forehead falling onto Justin’s shoulder as he pushed into him again.

“Oh, god,” Justin gripped the arm of the sofa and held on as Brian started pumping his hips in deep hard strokes.

After the first round in the shower, they moved to the living room because Brian’s condoms and lube were in his bag on the sofa. This was now the third round and, not that Justin wasn’t enjoying it, he couldn’t help wondering how many times Brian had fucked Ben earlier.

Jesus, did the man have Viagra in his party mix?

Brian started moving faster, rubbing his face in Justin’s nape until he suddenly stilled, biting the skin. Justin felt Brian’s dick pulsing as he came and then Brian slumped over him.

Justin tried not to think about the ache in his ass or the rough fabric of the sofa sticking to his chafed, still hard dick as Brian crushed him. If he complained, Brian would move.

But Brian moved anyway. He carefully withdrew, rubbing his lips over the bite mark in a silent apology.

“Roll over,” he whispered in Justin’s ear and his abused dick twitched eagerly.

Glutton.

Justin flipped onto his back, settling against the cushions. He couldn’t help the slight sigh that escaped as Brian rubbed his thighs and belly. And then Brian was licking his dick, his soft tongue soothing the abraded skin.

Justin twined his fingers in Brian’s hair to hold his head steady as he lifted his hips and impatiently slid his dick between Brian’s lips.

Brian pushed Justin’s hips back down, but he didn’t release his dick. Instead, he increased the pace and suction until Justin couldn’t hold back anymore and he came in his mouth.

Justin’s head lolled over the arm of the sofa and he groaned as Brian cleaned him up with his tongue before finally letting him go.

It took a moment before his brain registered that someone else had come in the apartment. His eyes flew open as the door slammed, but he only saw Brian hovering over him, licking Justin’s cum from his lips like a sated cat.

“Brian!” Daphne exclaimed.

Justin saw her and Michael out of the corner of his eye, but then Brian’s hands framed his face, blocking Justin’s vision of anything but him. And then he leaned over and kissed him. Almost sweetly, if that was a word Justin would ever have used to describe sex with Brian.

Brian kissed him and everything faded away again for an all too brief moment.

Later, Justin would touch his lips and wonder if he would ever see Brian again.