Acknowledging Fears

Chapter 12

Brian awoke to the realization that he'd been asleep in Justin's arms, all night long. He eased away from the Barcelona chair, wincing as his knees protested the sudden movement. Ruing the fact that he was nearly thirty-three and not as young as he used to be, he made a mental note to never fall asleep on a hardwood floor again. He realized that Justin must have sat up with him until he fell asleep. He vaguely remembered tears falling as Justin had told him he wanted him around for a long time. It occurred to Brian that he'd once said those same words but in an entirely different context. If he hadn't been so emotionally exhausted, he knew he would never have allowed himself to lean on Justin as he had. Too vulnerable, too open, too exposed. None of the above were feelings he was comfortable feeling much less expressing to anyone.

He stole up the stairs, quietly retrieving the portable phone. He dialed a number that Justin had the foresight to program in though Brian didn't think he'd ever have occasion to use it. God knew in the time she'd worked for him he'd never called her at home. At least, not unless it was to ask her about a presentation or something or to remind her to bring him coffee. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd been told to go fuck something. He'd just smirked at her.

Glancing at the Tiffany wall clock, he realized it was just after 7:30. Since she didn't have to be in the office until 9, he figured she was doing her makeup. Cynthia was just as much a label queen as he was and he admired her for it. She did know how to wear a Donna Karan suit. And she should own stock in Manolo Blahnik for all the pencil-heel stilettos she wore.

Hearing her answer, voice like silk over sandpaper, he said, quietly, "I'm not coming in today. Clear my schedule."

Then, "I'm fine. You and Theodore can handle it. I'm confident in your ability to handle things." Strange that, the man he'd once seen as an incomprehensible boor was now a valuable asset to him at Kinnetik. And he'd be lost without Cynthia.

"No, my next radiation treatment is not until next week. Jesus, can't I take a personal day? Cynthia, you know that I'm the one who signs your very large paychecks, right?"

That shut her up as he knew it would. Letting her growl at him for a moment, he remembered just how many times she'd saved his ass. There were a lot of things he could tolerate from her. It was she who had covered for him when Justin was under his desk at Vanguard giving him a stellar blow job, biting his lip as Justin very carefully licked him clean, like he was savoring an ice cream cone. It was she who didn't even bat an eye at the cum-spattered proposal for Nike he'd handed her to have reprinted. It was Cynthia who had seen him fucking the Fed Ex guy on more than one occasion. Hell, he'd even dictated proposals to her while bare ass naked. Brian hadn't even cared that she'd gone into the bathroom in one outfit and emerged in another by the time lunch rolled around. After all, how many times had he done the same? It was she who made sure that he had an extra suit at the office in case of such emergencies. And it was she who had been given a very rare, very private floor show between him and Justin. There were a lot of things he'd do for Cynthia. But it was a tacit agreement between the two that neither admitted just how they felt about the other. After all, they did have an employer-employee relationship. Wink, wink.

He dialed another number. "Miranda Jameson's office."

"Yeah, this is Brian Kinney. I need an emergency appointment."

He could hear the receptionist leafing through the appointment book. "Dr. Jameson has an opening at three-thirty today. Someone just cancelled. Do you want me to pencil you in, Mr. Kinney?"

"Yeah." Figured he needed the emergency session. Even if it was $250 an hour. Miranda didn't come cheap.

Miranda Jameson was one of his oldest friends. She had been a friend when he was attending St. Ignatius and they'd remained in touch after he'd transferred to Allegeheny High School and met Michael. Without a doubt, Miranda was one of his oldest and best friends. Older friend, even than Michael. He'd played choo choo with her as a kid. And they'd done some experimenting as adults. He'd taken her to a few dyke bars and she'd experimented with Lindsay before realizing she really did prefer cock. Lindsay had resented being her test case though he seemed to recall Lindsay saying something about Miranda having a very talented tongue. And he remembered burning up the sheets with her quite a few times. Brian was sure beyond doubt that he was gay but, at the time, he'd been horny and she'd been available. And he'd never been one to pass up sex.

She was now a preeminent psychiatrist who had opted to stay in Pittsburgh after finishing her PH.D. at Carnegie Mellon. Brian couldn't figure that out. For years, the only thing he'd wanted in the world was to get out of Pittsburgh and now he'd dug roots.

He returned to the kitchen, removing a bag of coffee beans from the freezer. As he started the grinder, he filled the carafe with water and began the coffee. There were two things that he was confident he couldn't live without: a high protein breakfast in the morning and coffee. It was a toss-up as to which was more important to him. Justin tended to think that he needed coffee more than he needed a morning blow job. Brian disagreed but he let the blond think he was right. Easier that way. After all, one must do what one must do to keep the peace.

He stole quietly up the stairs for a second time, returning with the midnight blue duvet. He tucked it around Justin, taking care not to awaken the sleeping man. When Justin was sleeping, it reminded Brian of just how young he still was. Granted, he'd be twenty-one in a couple of months but to Brian he'd always be the seventeen-year-old kid he'd noticed under a lamppost. How Hollywood is that? And Brian was aware that a hustler was not an option. Not under any circumstances. He knew what the ideal birthday present would be but he knew he---they---weren't there yet. He wondered if Justin realized that he'd been slowly but steadily cutting down the number of tricks before the diagnosis. God knew that he'd been startled to come home to find that Justin had brought home two guys for them to trick with. It had been a long time since they'd done a foursome and even then he'd felt like Justin wasn't really into it. It had bothered him so much he'd turned tail and run not admitting that it was because he didn't want anyone else to see him after the diagnosis.

As the aromatic fragrance of Café du Monde filled the loft, Justin began to stir, stretching like a cat. The movement was sensuous in an understated way but enough that Brian took notice. His nose wrinkled, he found himself searching the loft for Brian, finally finding him at his desk. Hair damp from a shower, Brian was casually garbed in a white t-shirt and his favorite pair of Diesel jeans. It was all too clear that he had no intention of going in to the office.

Hazel eyes met blue ones, each appraising the other. Justin knew it was safer to tread lightly than to mention the events of the night before. "What time is it?" Justin asked, voice roughened with sleep, eyes still bleary as he blinked sleep out of them.

"A quarter till eight." Brian said, gesturing to the stainless steel carafe. "There's coffee."

"Thank God." It was more a prayer than a statement.

He retrieved a mug from the cabinet in the kitchen, pouring some for himself. "Not going in to Kinnetik today?"

Smart one, my blond, Brian mused. "You noticed, huh?" So as far as smart ass comments went, it lacked his usual bite or searing wit.

Justin narrowed his eyes, a look which would have been far more threatening on a Doberman pinscher. Brian thought he looked cute, like a cocker spaniel. Somehow he doubted Justin would be amused by the comparison. Never a good idea to tell one's lover he reminded you of a lap dog. It was like being told you were a poodle when you thought you were a Weimaraner.

"You want to go grab breakfast?" He was supposed to do the diner with the guys but wasn't up to it. He knew they'd have questions which he didn't want to answer. Frankly, he was a little surprised that Michael had respected his wishes and refrained from calling. The way he felt he might rip into one of them, earning disappointed looks from nearly everyone in the little gang. And he had no desire to have Debbie slap him upside the head for pulling a Houdini. He had the right to a life outside of Liberty Avenue. Hadn't they been telling him that for years?

"How about Olivier's?"

Olivier's was a little French café that served magnificent beignets that fairly melted in your mouth and coffee that met wholeheartedly with Brian's approval. It didn't hurt that Brian had enjoyed a rather heated threesome with both the owner and the sous chef. It was a threesome that had at one point included Brian on all fours with a dick digging for oil in his ass while he gave a rather spectacular blow job. It wasn't the way his sexual encounters usually went but on that occasion he'd been too far gone to insist that he was a top. And when the man unerringly hit his prostate, Brian would have happily sung an aria.

The suggestion had Brian grinning. Boy after my own heart, he thought. "Olivier's is fine. I need to change shirts."

"You look fine."

"Haven't I taught you anything? It is not enough to look fine. One must look hot."

Justin rolled his eyes. And I'm the drama queen? "Didn't you fuck the owner and the sous chef already?" he pointed out. "And three of the night waiters? Along with the bartender?"

Brian simply glared at him. "Yes." No sense in mentioning that Justin had been there on the occasion that he'd fucked a rather delectable morsel from Cote d'Ivoire. The man's skin had been like mahogany and he'd been hung like a horse. A nine-inch dick with a 6-inch circumference. Like some dildos, Brian had noted at the time. An interesting combination, Brian recollected, as it had slid over the porcelain skin of his blond. It had been amazing watching the contrast of light and dark.

"Don't we have a no repeats policy?" Just a vague mention of the rules that they hadn't resurrected after their reconciliation.

"Yes," he ground out. Get to the fucking point, Sunshine.

"Why do you care how you look?"

That had Brian snarling, "Because I'm Brian fucking Kinney."

"And damn proud of it too," Justin teased. Then seeing the expression on Brian's face said, "Just no Armani. It's too early in the day for it."

"Never too early in the day for Armani," Brian smirked. But as he dug through the clothes in his closet, he found a black raw silk shirt from Lauren that he thought was just classic enough to work. "By the way, I'm going to lunch with your mom on Wednesday."

"Scared?"

"Fucking terrified."

It continually amazed Brian that Jennifer Taylor had embraced him into the bosom of her family when she'd once viewed him as the antichrist for seducing her impressionable son. Then, she'd begun to realize that Justin was like a steamroller and Brian had no choice but to give in. She'd even invested in Kinnetik, a move that had blown him away. And she hadn't batted an eyelash when she showed him the old bathhouse. He had to admire his partner's mother's stones.

Justin stripped off his t-shirt and began to unbutton his jeans when he felt Brian's hand on his. His thatch of baby fine blond pubic hair was just barely revealed and he could tell Brian wanted him. "Don't you want me to help you out with that?" he said, indicating Justin's burgeoning hard-on.

More than anything. Some sense of decency had Justin pulling back and perhaps he felt guilty for the striptease he'd performed that would have done Mata Hari or Gypsy Rose Lee proud. When he stepped out of the jeans, Brian bit his lip. Then throwing caution to the wind, he took hold of Justin's balls, slightly applying pressure. The inhalation made him smirk. "You want me to go down on you. You want me to swallow your spunk, don't you? You want me to rim you until you're begging me to fuck you." Not for anything would he admit that he missed having Justin buck back against him, pulling his tongue deeper inside, begging him to replace his tongue with his dick.

What's a boy to do? "Yes," he whispered. But he stopped Brian from kneeling again. "But I want to return the favor."

That had Brian looking up at him, wondering just how difficult it was for Justin. He remembered how it was to be a horny twenty-year-old. He'd been out fucking everything in sight and then some. He remembered some weekend trips to Philly just so he could get a taste of something new. The nights in leather clubs. Ah, the good old days. Sighing, he patted Justin's ass. "You know that when I'm back, I'm going to make you pay for your little striptease. Make you remember just why it is you beg me to fuck you. And it won't just be payment here in the loft. There's an outside world, sunshine."

He's baaaack! Justin thought. Relief coursed through his veins. Though he knew turnabout was fair play he couldn't wait for Brian to be back. He'd missed him. "I'm going to take a shower," he said.

Brian nodded and returned to the Barcelona chair. He closed his eyes and slipped a hand inside his own pants, feeling his dick. No go, he thought, after he heard the water click on. He knew that Justin was inside the shower wishing he was there with him. It wasn't vanity just simple fact. Somehow over the years a shower had just begun to feel wrong when it was just one of them. He couldn't help but remember the mornings when Justin had been with Ian and he'd jerked off. It's no fun sleeping single in a double bed. Or in a queen size.

He stood and began pacing. It was a Kinney thing to do. His favorite thinking position was in front of the sheet windows or in the steam room at the baths. It occurred to him that he and Justin hadn't really christened all the rooms at Kinnetik. They'd fucked in his office and other places but there were others that had yet to have been marked by Kinney-Taylor.

In the shower, Justin couldn't help remembering the last time he and Brian had fucked, how they'd rocked together, him feeling as though he were being bent in half as Brian thrust in and out of him. He'd come like a geyser and he and Brian had both been exhausted. Satisfied but exhausted. The white come arced out of him and he leaned his head against the wall.

Turning off the faucet, he retrieved a bath towel, wrapping it around his waist. He returned to the bedroom, shaking water off like a dog. Water droplets beaded on his chest and Brian stared at him like a drowning man would view an oasis. Just one little taste, he thought. Just one little taste. Even though it wasn't intentional it was torture nonetheless.

Dropping the towel, Brian's eyes locked on to his dick as if he were a missile locking on to an F-14 bomber jet. God damn it, he thought. Justin walked to the upright dresser and Brian had to muffle a groan. Even so, it had Justin looking over his shoulder at him. My own centerfold layout come to life, he thought. The stuff wet dreams are made of. "You okay?"

Okay, so it was a stupid fucking question and one that earned him a heated glare. "Yeah, I'm fine," he ground out. He watched as Justin stepped into cargo pants commando. Commando for Christ's sake. He wiggled his ass in Brian's direction, then returned to the closet to find a shirt. "Don't wear a t-shirt." God help me. Save me from horny post-adolescents.

Once they were in the car, Brian's breathing returned to normal. "You are so gonna pay for this, Sunshine."

"How?"

"Want me to tell you the ways you're going to make this up to me? Cause you won't be topping me for a long, long time."

"Promises, promises," Justin said, a smirk of his own crossing his lips.

Brian bit his lip. He wondered what Justin would do if he pulled the car over and went down on him in broad fucking daylight. It wouldn't be the first time but he wasn't as much an exhibitionist as Brian. "You know, one of these days I'm going to tease you until you have no choice but to clench your PC muscles."

"Bring it on, baby," Justin said.

Aw, fuck me. Brian pulled into a parking space and glanced at Justin. "You will behave, right?"

"Moi?"

"Et tu."

"So does that mean you won't be sucking me off under the tablecloth?" Justin asked, eyes twinkling.

"Not a chance in hell," Brian said, though it wasn't as if he hadn't done it before. And the very idea had him intrigued. Just what would happen if he ducked down under the table and brought Justin off? Would the younger man be able to control himself enough to not get the two of them kicked out of the restaurant?

As they were seated, Brian knew that he had caught the eye of the obviously gay waiter. Not really his type but hot nevertheless. It didn't escape his attention that Justin had noticed the attention also and was none too pleased. Though he hadn't become territorial just yet. Brian ordered a Bloody Mary ignoring the look Justin shot him.

"So why didn't you leave last night? Why aren't you pissed at me?"

Justin stared at him as he waited for his cup of coffee. "What good would it have done if I had indulged in my own drama queen moment? You'd have been pissed at me," he pointed out. "If I'd walked out you'd have given me shit for months."

Touche. Brian took a sip of his drink, savoring the icy bite of the vodka. "I didn't know how to tell you that Lindsay and I had a kid before Gus."

Yeah, how the hell do you bring that up to your partner? "We all have a past, Brian."

"Let me ask you something, Sunshine. What would you have done if the condom had broken and it had been Daphne?"

Looking back on it, Justin realized that deflowering his best friend could have completely fucked their friendship. As it was things had been strained between them for a while. "I'd probably have suggested marriage or adopting out," he said. "I wasn't ready to be a dad. Still am not ready."

Brian nodded. Before he could speak again, he noticed the waiter heading in their direction. Deciding to head him off at the pass, Brian said, sotto voce, as he approached, "Not interested, Jacques." It was a waiter who was unfamiliar to him but one who would just as clearly have been a target had Brian been interested in cruising. It wasn't long ago that he'd have ditched Justin at the table and pushed him into a stall. He wasn't exactly proud of his modus operandi but he wasn't ashamed of his sexual past.

The waiter had the grace to blush and then he couldn't meet Justin's eyes. Taking pity on the poor guy, Justin said, "Don't worry about it. He's like an alley cat, Jacques. Fucks anything with a hole."

Brian glared at him but was kind of amused at the same time. It was the kind of snarky comment he might have made himself. "What will you have?" the waiter stammered, clearly uncomfortable.

"Eggs Benedict. Easy on the hollandaise sauce."

"French toast. And orange juice."

The skimpy order had Brian looking at him. "Something wrong?"

Justin hesitated knowing that Brian would cue into it and call him on it. "Just wondering how many women you've been with."

"Does it matter?"

Considering Justin had only been with two and one of those was Daphne, it kind of did. Though it shouldn't have mattered, Justin knew that the idea of Brian with a woman was just strange. He figured that each of the men in their group had been with a woman at one point or another except for Michael. The idea of Michael with a woman was just ludicrous. "No, I guess not."

"This really bothers you, doesn't it?"

"I know it shouldn't."

"Twelve," Brian answered.

"When is the last time?"

So this wasn't exactly the conversation Brian had intended to have over crepes and coffee. "Five years ago." Six months before I met you.

"Really?" Justin was embarrassed to find that his voice squeaked.

"Yeah, really. I was in Austin on a business trip. Stumbled into a bar and wound up fucking a woman." Wasn't an experience he really wanted to relate to Justin. "Can we talk about something else?" Anything else. Hell, we can talk about the Chicago Cubs for all I care or the NASDAQ. Anything but hetero sex.

Nodding, Justin reached for Brian's Bloody Mary. Taking a deep swallow, he handed the glass back to Brian. "You know, if you wanted a Bloody Mary, you could've ordered one."

"But it's so much better tasting yours."

That comment had Brian wondering if he was talking about the drink or something else. The sexual sparks between them flew and he knew that he'd have to be dead not to feel something for Justin. They continued to eat in companionable silence, Justin eyeing the drink until Brian finally pushed it over to him in exasperation.

As he paid, Justin realized that he and Brian were the focus of most of the attention of the patrons. But he and Brian had had no desire to provide fodder for anyone's fantasy life.

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