Cavalry Charge


By the way his head goes up and he looks as if he’s getting ready for battle, I’m guessing that he already knows I’m there when he turns around.

I can sort of see Michael somewhere in the background and I’m sure he thinks I’m the fucking cavalry come to rescue him, but I don’t really give a stuff. I’m too busy staring at this little blond brat who has more balls than anyone else I’ve ever known.

I should be mad as hell that he’s interfering in my life this way. I should be reaming him out and comforting Michael, I guess. Or just turning my back on the whole fucking mess and heading off to the Baths. Instead, I want … I want him. I want this. I want to know that every time my life gets hard or difficult, I’m going to have him right there beside me. Fuck! You’d think I’d have got the message by now. He won’t be beside me, he’ll be way in front of me, leading the charge to put things back on track. I can’t fucking imagine how I’m ever going to keep up with him, but I’m sure as hell not letting him get away from me again.

I suppose somewhere a part of me is falling apart, but most of me just wants to make sure that he knows that I .. that I …

Shit! I have never had anyone go into battle like that for me before. Never. I can feel tears stinging the corners of my eyes, and I’m trying to blink them away. Michael is saying something, but I can’t hear him. All I can hear is my heart pounding as Justin steps towards me.

“Brian … I think it’s …”

“Are you ready to go?”

Our voices cross each other. He looks at me for a long moment and then he smiles. It’s just a little twist of his lips at first, but when I pull my lips in and let my eyes smile back at him, like Michael isn’t there, like no one else is there, like he’s the only thing in the world that matters, which he is, it turns into a full Sunshine smile.

“Yes.” He nods. “Yes, I think I’ve said everything I came to say.”


Michael’s voice is so strident now, that Deb and Vic both spill back into the room.

“Hello, Brian,” Vic’s voice is calmly friendly, like always. I nod at him.

“Asshole!” Deb snaps at me, but then she hugs me hard, so I know I’m not really the one in her bad books. Suddenly I don’t envy Michael. If there were three people I’d do my best not to get pissed off at me it would be Mel, Deb and Justin. And he’s managed to strike the jackpot with all three of them. Of course, the one he has to worry about most is the sweet looking little blond who’s hugging Vic and Deb goodbye. I wonder if Mikey realises that yet. He’s never understood about Justin. I wonder if he’s starting to get the message now.

“Brian … you can’t let him … “

I look into the eyes of the man I thought I’d have for a friend forever. “He’s right, Michael. I can’t … Don’t call me. Don’t … come near me. Just leave me the fuck alone for a while!”

My voice cracks so that it comes out sounding like I’m begging him. Maybe I am.


Vic comes up to him then and pulls him back. “Leave it, Michael,” he says firmly. “It’s time to let go.”

“But Brian …!”

His voice is desperate now and I can’t stay here any longer. I just walk out the door and down the steps. Justin is right behind me and I stop at the gate and hand him the car keys. I’m not sure that I can see to drive.


I’m shaking a bit as I get into the car, but I’m nothing like as bad as Brian. His eyes are all red and he looks like he’s just taken a kick in the balls. I guess he has. I feel like I should say something to him, but I don’t know what to say, so I start the car.

He’s just staring out the side window, so I pull out carefully. I’ve driven the ‘Vette before, but not very often. He still doesn’t say anything, so I finally clear my throat and force out, “Brian … if … we could leave looking for the car, if you want.”

He turns to look at me.

“Backing out of the deal, Sunshine?”

His voice is so slurred he sounds drunk or drugged.

I shake my head. “No. But … you know. If you’d rather …”

“What … go home and fuck?”

He gives me a leer, but it’s a pretty half-hearted effort.

“I thought you might want to go out,” I say quietly. He knows what I mean. He’s hurting. Maybe he just needs to get away from everything for a few hours. Me included. Just take a break. And if he does, that’s okay. I just want him to know that it’s okay.

He gives a sort of choke of laughter, but it sounds more hurt than anything else.

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess that’s me. Brian needs pain management … so bring on the drink, the drugs and the dirty sex.”

His voice is definitely hurt. Worse, it’s full of self-disgust.

“Brian …” I didn’t mean to hurt him. Fuck! that’s the last thing I wanted to do.

He laughs again, but it’s still that harsh, hurt sound. “S’okay. Sounds good, in fact. So what did you have in mind? You drop me at the Baths and go and see Mel and Lindz to tell them what a totally gutless little faggot I am? That I have to have you fighting my battles for me, and still can’t deal with the fucking aftermath? That I had to run off and get wasted and get my dick sucked just to get past the fact that my so called best friend is a total asshole who’s doing everything he can to …”

He breaks off and just shakes his head. “Is that what you had in mind, Sunshine?”

I bite my lip. I hate it when he gets like this. I don’t know how to deal with it. Especially this time, because I’ve caused it. I was trying to help, to be supportive, but all I’ve done is somehow make him think …

I stop then, and really think about what I was doing, what I was saying to him.

I was saying exactly what he’s just spat back at me. I was saying that as soon as things get tough, I expect him to just fall apart and go back to his old pain management techniques. I was saying that I don’t trust him to have developed past them. To maybe have other ways to deal now. Or at least to be looking for other ways to deal, and to need my help finding them. To need me not to do what every other asshole in his life has always done, and go out of my way to tell him what a weak self-destructive, self-indulgent fucker I think he is.

Except that I don’t think that. I truly don’t.

I pull the car over to the curb and turn to face him.

“Brian, I’m sorry. That was a really stupid thing for me to say.”

He shrugs and turns to look out the window again. Then, to my horror, he opens the door of the car.


Shit! I think. I sound like Michael.

He ignores me and walks off. Then he stops and comes back. He stands next to my window, but not too close.

“I … I’ll call you,” he says.

Then he strides away and I’m left sitting there feeling as if the bottom has fallen out of my world. And it’s my own stupid fault.


I’ve only gone half a block when I realise that I’m behaving like a complete Drama Queen. Hell, I could give Emmett lessons. It’s too late to go back now. He’s probably gone anyway. Or else he’s sitting there trying not to damned well cry, and I just can’t face that. Because it’s my fault.

I made him feel bad when all he was trying to do was make sure I knew he wasn’t going to make a big deal of it if I threw a hissy fit and went off to have my cock sucked.

It’s just … it hurt, that he would think I’d do that. And I know that’s fucking unreasonable. Not just because it’s what I’ve always done, it’s who he knows I am; but because I’ve defended so fucking hard my right to be that person.

It’s just … it isn’t who I want to be any more. And I don’t want him to be thinking that way about me. Even though I’m the one who’s always insisted he had to see me that way if he wanted to be with me. Fucked up, much?

I go to pull my cell out of my pocket to at least call him, and realise that it’s still on the bench in the fucking loft. So I start looking for a pay phone, but by the time I find one, I’m nearly back to Deb’s anyway.

I toy with the idea of taking care of business and then calling him, but I know he’s hurting and that’s … it’s not fair. So I dig around in my pockets and manage to find some change and go into the box to make the call.

It smells the way they all seem to, of piss and desperation, but at least it works. That’s one fucking thing that’s gone right today.

He takes a while to answer, and when he does, I can hear both the tears and the curiosity in his voice. He doesn’t recognise the number of course, and can’t think who’d be calling him from a fucking payphone.

“Hey!” I say.

“Brian,” he breathes, like the sound of my voice is the best thing he’s heard in his life.

I rub my tongue over my lips and while I’m getting together what I’m going to say to him, he says again, “Brian?”

But this time there’s an edge of fear in his voice, he’s scared that I’m off somewhere doing something truly stupid. Well, I am. But it’s not what he thinks.

“I’m sorry,” I find myself saying.

“Brian, … it’s me who should … please, please just …”

“Justin!” I have to break in on him before he works himself into a real panic. “I’m okay. It’s okay. There’s just something I have to do.”

I hear him take a deep breath and then he says slowly, “Okay. So … um, should I …”

“It won’t take all that long. Can you maybe have a coffee or something and I’ll call you in a while.”

I hear him give that little huff that means that he’s relieved and pissed all at once. Suddenly, just picturing him so clearly, I feel better.

“You can come and get me and then we can forget all this shit and get on with our day. Deal?”

He knows then; somehow I can tell. He knows where I’m headed, if not why. There’s a pause, and then he says carefully, “Sure. I need to pick up some things anyway. But I’ll leave the cell on, no matter where I am. Just call when you … want me to come and get you.”

When you need me, he was going to say. I’m almost tempted to tell him that if I called when I needed him I’d never be off the fucking phone. But I’m not that lost to all sense of queer decorum. Not yet.

“I’ll call,” I promise. “Soon.”

Then I hang up the phone and go to take care of what needs to be done.

Vic answers the door, and gives me a ‘what the fuck are you doing back here?’ look. I can hear Deb as I go past him into the house. She’s still going on at Michael about how stupid he’s been, and how angry she is with him.

“I need to see Mikey,” I say.

Even through Deb’s tirade he must have heard my voice because suddenly he’s there in front of me.


He’s all lit up like a Christmas tree. I stare at him and realise that he thinks this means something. He thinks that I’m here because …

He thinks I’ve chosen him.

Deb stares at me. “Brian, what the fuck …?”

Maybe she thinks the same thing, but by the tone of her voice at least she knows that it would be the wrong choice.

“Brian wants to see Michael,” Vic announces, as if that’s some big surprise. Maybe it is, considering.

She looks from me to Michael and back again. I can tell that she’s reluctant to leave us alone, but she gets up. “Okay, well …”

“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “It’s nothing … personal.”

Michael is looking at me a bit strangely now. He’s still got that smirk that means he thinks somehow he’s won, but he’s starting to wonder.

I prop myself against the bench. “I just wanted to make sure that Michael knows I expect him to pay the money back to Justin.”

He nods. “I will, Brian, you know that. I mean, it might take a while, but …”

I shake my head. “No, Michael.”

Deliberately I force myself not to use the name I usually call him. This isn’t another rerun of the Brian and Mikey show and he fucking needs to get that.

“I mean … now. In the next few days.”

He stares at me. So do Deb and Vic.

“Brian!” Deb starts to protest. “You know that …”

“Brian,” he says, his voice taking on *that* tone. “You know I would if I could, but …”

“You can,” I tell him. “And you will.”

Again he lights up and I realise he’s still not hearing me properly. He still thinks this is about him and me.

“Well, if you lend me the money …”

I stare at him, really seeing him maybe for the first time in a long while. I wonder if he’s always been this fucking weak, and this manipulative, and I was just too needy to see it. That would be a real fucking joke, wouldn’t it?

I shake my head. “No can do, Michael. I don’t have the money, and even if I did … I wouldn’t. This isn’t about me.”

“But …”

“You can get the money any time, Michael.”

He stares at me, trying to figure out what I mean. Fuck! this has never even occurred to him.

“All you have to do is sell some of those fucking toys of yours.”

There! I said it. I dropped the little bombshell of my expectations. And I did it in front of Vic and Debbie so he’s got nowhere to run on this and no place to hide.


He can’t fucking believe it, the asshole. He’s stolen Justin’s fucking money, the money he needed so badly he was even willing to go to Craig and beg money for his fucking tuition, and he’s never even considered doing this.

Deb and Vic are staring at me now, like I’ve lost my mind.

“What toys?” Deb asks. “What do you mean?”

I’m sure she thinks I’m talking about some weird kinky contraband. Well, I guess it is kinky enough in its own nerdy way.

“Michael knows what I mean,” I say. “I’m talking about things like the original batwoman that cost you what? ‘A whole week’s salary’”, I quote.

“Wonder Woman,” he corrects automatically. The world as we’ve known it since we were fourteen years old might be falling apart in front of us thanks to his fucking stupid jealousy, but god forbid I should get the fucking cartoon character wrong.

It’s not me Deb and Vic are staring at now.

“You mean all that shit’s worth money?” Deb asks, as if she really can’t believe this. Suddenly I feel really shitty that I’ve made her the witness to this. I didn’t have to. I shouldn’t have.

“Deb,” I say, a bit late, but better late than never, right? “It’s okay. I’ll talk to Mikey about this.”

“Oh, no!” she says. “Not on your fucking life. What the fuck is he talking about Michael?”

She is pissed. I thought she was angry before, but I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen Deb this mad.

“Ma!” he squeaks. “I can’t sell that stuff. It’s for the shop.”

“Then sell it in the fucking shop!” Her voice reaches shriek point and I want to head for the door. But I still need to make sure that he really understands.

“But …”

“Michael,” I cut in before Deb can say anything else. I’m not shouting. I’m not screaming. But he hears me now. He looks into my face and he really hears me.

“I don’t care if you sell it in the shop, or sell it on ebay, or sell it on the fucking street corner. But you will sell it. And you will give Justin his money. By the end of next week.”

I don’t make any threats. I don’t have to. Michael knows I can’t be bothered with all that shit.

His face falls. “Bri …”

I shake my head. I just want out of there now.

“And you’d better listen to what Justin said. Don’t call me. Don’t come round. Don’t expect …”

To my horror I hear my voice break then. I stand up, needing to get out of there in a real hurry.

Before I can get to the door, Deb is there. I brace myself, but all she does is touch my face.

“You tell Sunshine …” her own voice wobbles, but then she goes on, “you tell Sunshine not to forget that you two are still part of this family. I expect to see and hear from you. You hear me?”

I nod at her. I guess there’s something I should say, but I don’t know what, and I’m not sure I could anyway.

She does hug me then, but just gently and then she lets go.

“We’ll see you on …” then she stops. Busted!

Somehow I manage to grin at her. “Sunday,” I finish for her. “At the Munchers.”

She gives me a look, and I shrug, pretending like it’s no big deal. “It’s okay. Justin told me.”

She grins. She knows damned well that it is a big fucking deal. I’m letting that little twat drag me to a fucking family lunch to celebrate my birthday. Shit!

I want to tell her to keep her mouth shut about it, but who am I kidding? Every fag on Liberty Avenue is going to hear about this by the time her shift ends today. I am so fucked. So why in hell do I have this big grin on my face now?

But then, just when I was starting to feel better about life, Michael joins us. Deb glares at him, and then gives a filthy look at Vic who’s hovering in the background. I guess he was meant to keep Michael at bay.

Michael is angry now. I guess the suggestion that he should actually give up some of his precious fucking collection is enough to get him mad, let alone that it’s to pay the money to Justin.

“I don’t want to hear it, Michael,” I say tiredly.

“You wouldn’t expect Justin to sell anything if it was the other way around,” he whines. “Oh, no. Not your little wonder boy. Or is that just wonder butt?”

Before I can react at all, Deb’s hand cracks across his ear.

Then I get in his face.

“Justin doesn’t try to take what doesn’t belong to him,” I hiss at him. “And, in any case, what the fuck do you think we’ve got left to sell?”

They all three turn to stare at me then. And I realise what I’ve said.

‘We’. I said ‘we’.

“I wasn’t talking about you,” Michael whines louder. “Just about …”

I stare at him a moment, and then I think ‘fuck it’, so I say it.

“If you’re talking about him, you are talking about me. We come as a package deal.”

For a moment they all just go on staring at me. Then Deb drags me towards the door. On the way she kisses me again, and whispers, “I am so fucking proud of you.”

Then she bundles me out the door, and I guess goes back to deal with her offspring. I only hope she can convince him that both Justin and I meant what we said. But at the moment, that’s not what’s on my mind.

‘We’. I said ‘we’.

Walking down the path I find I can hardly wipe the stupid smile off my face.

It’s fucking crazy, and I’d deny it under torture … but I’m suddenly damned proud of myself.


At least I know where he is, dammit! I just wish I knew why.

I am so pissed off, but I don’t know whether it’s with him or with myself.

I wanted him to back me up on this so badly; I wanted him to trust me, trust my judgement. Instead he’s just … blowing it all apart.

But at the same time … if things between Daph and I had somehow gotten into this big a mess, I know how fucking mad I’d have been if he’d come galloping in to the rescue. If he’d done what I tried to do today. I’d want to fucking strangle him.

But it’s different. I don’t know why it is, but it is. He needs me to do this. He needs someone to protect him from Michael. Even if he doesn’t know it. He needs someone to be the bad guy so that he doesn’t need to be. Because he can’t be. Not to Michael. And I understand that, I do. But …

Oh, shit, Justin! Stop thinking about it. Go find some decent candles for his damned birthday cake like you promised Lindz you would, and stop being such a Drama Princess.

Drama Queen, dammit! I have at least graduated to that.

Shit! I am so losing it.

Maybe I should just drive over closer to Deb’s. Maybe …

It’s such a relief when the cell finally rings that my hand is shaking too much almost to answer it.


Well, his voice sounds okay. In fact, he sounds fucking pleased with himself. Asshole.

“Hey!” I say.

And I want to sound pissed with him. But I am so fucking relieved that he called me. That it’s only been an hour or so, and he’s called me, and …

“You ready to come get me?” he asks.

Only to the Moon, I think. I’d only go to the Moon. Or Mars. Or Jupiter.

Shit! I didn’t say that, did I?

No, I can’t have, because now he’s saying, “Justin?”

Like he’s getting worried; like he’s not sure I haven’t hung up on him.

“On my way,” I croak.

“I’m in the call box,” he says. “On the corner.”

“I’ll be about 5,” I tell him.

“Hang up and drive,” he orders.

When I pull up the care I want to leap out into his arms, but I don’t. I wait and let him get in.

He sits down and he’s got this stupid grin on his face that all of a sudden makes me what to scream at him. I am pissed off and at the same time very, very glad to have him sitting here beside me.  Both feelings are so intense that I feel like between them I might explode.

Or burst into tears. I have to breathe hard to stop that happening, and he finally seems to realise how mad I am, because he puts his hand on my arm before I can start the car and says, “I had to talk to him, Justin.”

I just nod. Shit! I really do have to fight hard now not to cry like some little faggot. Just like I’ve fought so hard to get where I am with him, only to have Michael undermine it, undermine me, yet again.

No! I am not going to think of it that way. I’m not going to give him that much power over me, over us. At least Brian hasn’t told me that it’s none of my business, so that’s something, some small thing that I have won out of all the battles. I swallow hard and say, “I understand.”

Brian sits there and does that sucking the lips in thing he does when he’s thinking carefully about his response.

Then he touches my face, turning it towards him.

“I doubt it,” he says.

I give a gasp of sheer exasperation. “Brian, he’s your best friend. I get that.”

“No,” is all he says.

“What? You don’t think after all this time, hearing him say it every fucking day for two fucking years that I don’t get it?”

I turn my head to look at him. I hadn’t meant that to come out that way, but I’m still pissed off. I fight to control my anger. We are not going to fight over that little bastard. We are not.

He looks out the window for a moment and then he looks back.

“No. He’s not my best friend,” he says simply.

And the whole world changes - for both of us.


He just sits there and stares at me for a while. He’s heard me. He’s heard what I’m telling him.

Then he takes a deep breath, and starts the car.

“So … are we going to go look at fuckmobiles, or what?”

I breathe a sigh of relief, and relax for the first time since the munchers started calling this morning. I could use a drink. Or a joint. Anything. Something. But I’ll settle for a coffee.

“You hungry?” I ask.

He gives me a sideways look. I poke my tongue into my cheek and grin at him and manage to get him all flushed and panting with just a look.

“I meant for food, Justin. Jesus!” I admonish.

Sure I did.

He gives me another look. He knows he’s been played.

“Oh, food,” he says. “Well, then … yeah, I suppose so.”

God! His metabolism must finally be slowing down. Either that or he snacked while I was dealing with Michael.

“I could do with a coffee,” I announce.

“Okay. Um … where?”

We find a place. It’s small. It’s quiet. This late in the morning the mid-morning crowd’s gone and the lunchers haven’t arrived yet. We sit down in a window booth. The windows are curved outwards and the bench follows the curve, so we sit side by side and rub shoulders together while we take the first sip of our drinks.

He’s got this damned donut that’s going to drip jam everywhere as soon as he bites into it. Suddenly what he said about the car makes sense. I can just see him and Gus tucking into those things together and I have a vision of jam smeared all across the leather upholstery of the Jag. Dumbly enough, though, the thought makes me smile. Shit!

Lezzie love muffin, that’s me.

I wait until he’s swallowed most of it, and mopped up the mess, then I say, “Justin …”

He tenses up immediately, and I realise that, although he’d deny it till the fucking cows come home, I am not the only one who sometimes avoids ‘serious’ conversations. But I need him to hear this.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, to start things off.

He raises an eyebrow at me. Little shit. That was pure Kinney. He learned that from me. I can’t help but grin at him. Then I touch his hand.

“Justin … he had to hear it from me, as well.”

His eyes open really wide. Shit! I knew he was mad at me for going back there. What the fuck did he think I’d gone back to say? He’s the one who’s supposed to be onto me.

“Bri …” He stops and runs his tongue over his lips. Even in the middle of this conversation, I can’t help but watch it. I shift a bit in my seat. His eyes get this look. He was onto that little twitch alright, anyway.

“I know …” he goes on. “I know he’s important to you, alright? If you tell me to back off, I will. I just …”

He breaks off, gulps, and then blurts out, “I hate it that he can hurt you the way he does.”

He looks away from me for a moment, and then back. “And you … you just have no defences where he’s concerned.”

I suck my lips in, then I smile at him a little, feeling … warm, feeling … fuck, alright … feeling loved. So I’m a lezbo. Sue me.

“I do now,” I say.

He blushes. I love that I can do that to him.

I lean back in my seat, playing it cool. Right. Except that somehow his fingers have got tangled up with mine. Damned if I know how that happened. Ah, well. I pick up my coffee cup with my other hand and take a sip. Then I start on what I really brought him here to say. He knows there’s something I want to get off my chest, and he’s silent, just letting me take my time. It hits me suddenly how much of a relief it is not to have to shove all the barriers up every time I want a minute to myself just to work things out. He just knows. Even when he must be bursting to hear what went on, he doesn’t push any more. He just lets me get to it when I’m ready. When I can.

I find myself rubbing his fingers as I say, “I told him I expect him to sell off some of his shit and pay back the money. By the end of next week.”

Well. Whatever he was expecting to hear, it sure as shit wasn’t that, because his mouth has just dropped open about a fucking foot.

I grin at him again. Never think you’ve got me completely sussed, Sunshine. Not even you.

“And when he whined that I wouldn’t expect you to sell anything if you needed money, I asked him what the fuck he thought we had left to sell.”

Okay! he got it. Yes, Justin. You heard right. I see tears swirling in that fucking blueness again, but I guess it’s alright this time because now he’s starting to smile. Wait for it, Sunshine. Just wait for your cue.

“And when he said he was just talking about you …” I pause, stringing out the moment.

Then I deliver the punchline.

“I told him that when he talks about you, he is talking about me. I told him we come as a package.”

He stares at me for a moment, and then he launches himself into my arms. We’re not on Liberty; hell! we’re probably in the heart of breederville, but I don’t give a fuck. I pull him to me and kiss him like I’ve been wanting to ever since the car pulled up to collect me.


Fuck! Oh, fuck!

I don’t know how to feel this. I don’t know if I can feel this. It’s too … too much. Too everything. Oh, fuck! Fuck!

Then things seem to slow down and we’re sitting there in the window, with people gawping at us from both sides of the glass, but it doesn’t matter.

He’s here with me, and his forehead is pressed against mine, and that’s all.

That’s all.

He’s just given me the thing I desperately needed, and didn’t even know it. I didn’t understand how much I needed him to choose me. Not just choose me to go home with, or choose me to fuck. Or even choose me to love.

I needed him to choose me to be his … his person. His … oh, god, he’d kill me … significant other. I needed to be The One for him. Even if it’s just this once. Just this one time. I needed to know that at least one time, I came first.

We get up and pay the bill and get out to the car somehow. Maybe we said some things. I don’t know. I just know he was there with me. And I was there with him. And we were together in a way we’d just never been before.

There is one more thing I need to clear up with him though.

We get into the car. I don’t even really register that I’m getting back in the driver’s seat. He doesn’t seem to mind. Or to care. Or maybe even to notice.

I take a deep breath and say quickly, “Bri … about before. About what I said …before you got out of the car.”

He shakes his head, trying to shake me off, but he has to hear this. I have to say it.

“Bri … I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I know I did.”

His face is tight now. Shit! Maybe I should just have let this go. But I don’t want him to go back to it, and worry over it, and let it fester. This needs to be got out the way.

“I shouldn’t have … expected that that’s what you’d do.”

He shrugs, twisting his face away from my hand. I grab his chin and force his face round to me again. I look straight into his eyes. They’re dark and stormy and his jaw is clenched like he’s in pain. I have to fix this. I cup my hand around his face.

“Please, Brian. I need you to know that … it’s not really what I expect from you. Not any more. But I don’t want it to be a big deal if it happens, either. It’s not important enough to matter.”

He looks at me and gives that choked laugh that’s so self-mocking that it cuts me in pieces. I don’t know how to go on. How to tell him what I feel about him. How much I admire him. How much I admire the man he is, and the man he’s fighting to become. How much I appreciate the battle he’s putting up for us.

I stroke my thumb across his lips.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

It’s so fucking inadequate. I know now why Brian says sorry is bullshit.

But this time it seems to mean something to him, because he takes in a deep breath and buries his face in my neck. I wrap my arms around him as well as I can. It’s fucking awkward, because the gear lever and the brake are in the way, and his long legs are twisted up with no room to move them much.

I feel him laugh against my skin; a proper laugh this time. He kisses my throat and then my chin and then he sits up.

“We need to get a car that we can do this in without fucking dislocating things!” he announces, rubbing his knee.

I reach out and rub the knee myself. Then I let my hand stray up his thigh a bit.

“Sounds like a plan,” I say.

He grins and removes my hand firmly.

“Yeah, well…” his tongue goes into his cheek and he gives me *that* look and I can feel myself getting hard. Damn him!

“You just keep your hands to yourself till we get the fucking car and I can have my way with you,” he says. “And you’d better have a pocketful of condoms and some lube because after the way you’ve been teasing me all morning, your ass is mine as soon as we have the space for me to claim it.”

I grin back at him. “Maybe *my* condoms only go on *my* dick,” I tease.

He laughs.

“Don’t even think it,” he advises. “You might be a hot shot little tycoon with money coming in from all over, but don’t think that I still can’t make you beg for it.”

I’m about to dispute that when I realise that would be asking for trouble. He’s right, he can make me beg, and he knows it. He’s still got more control and patience than I have, and he could make me wait all afternoon if he wanted. Fuck that! I want his cock inside me soon.

I turn and run my tongue over my lips and pout at him.

“Lucky for us I’m a good boy, then, isn’t it, and don’t mind sharing?”

He laughs and leans in and kisses me. At first it’s just a wet, sexy kiss; his tongue forcing its way into my mouth, me surrendering to him and him taking what he wants. Then he stops. He looks at me for a moment, his face so close to mine that I can see all the tiny flecks of color that make up those amazing eyes.

Then he leans in again. This time his lips tease and caress my mouth and I’m the one who is impatient to taste his tongue against mine. My hand goes up to pull him closer and his is tangled in my hair and the kiss goes on for a long long time. Somehow this time we don’t notice how uncomfortable the car is; there’s just us, talking to each other in the language that we both speak fluently.

When he sinks back into his seat this time, he’s fighting back a smile.

Me, I don’t make any attempt to hide mine.

The morning pretty much started out for shit, but it got one hell of a lot better. Somehow we’ve managed to come out of this okay. Better than okay. All odds to the contrary, we’re fucking fabulous.

Now, if we can just hurry up and find a fuckmobile, the day is going to get better still. Brian has taught me well; I never leave the loft without a pocketful of condoms and some lube.


October 27th 2003



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