Acknowledging Fears

Chapter 6

Justin turned back to face Brian and suppressed a groan. This was not going to be fun, regardless of the fact that he thought it had actually gone well despite Ethan revealing details of their sex life he'd have preferred remained untold and Claire's visit. There were reasons he and Brian didn't talk about Ethan; it wasn't just because it could alter Brian's mood for hours if not days. Lost in his own thoughts, Justin almost didn't hear Brian.

"You been talking to him?" He couldn't quite disguise the note of jealousy in his voice and that irritated him. Irritated him that the cocky, young musician could make him feel as if he were standing on shifting sands even though he knew, he knew, that Justin wasn't going anywhere. That when Justin had come back and they'd started again, that this time it was different. They were both different.

"No."

"No?" Incredulity warred with sarcasm. It was patently obvious that Brian didn't believe him, though Justin couldn't really blame him. He had thought they'd gotten past this.

Brian's back was turned so Justin couldn't see his face. It was a pose Brian adopted when he was feeling something and didn't want Justin to know what it was. Justin remembered how often Brian had hidden his face from him in the early days after the bashing when he'd first moved back in with the man.

"I haven't been talking to him, Brian. I didn't know he was back in Pittsburgh." Too late Justin realized his mistake. Fuck, he said to himself.

"Back from where?" Brian's voice was low and controlled, dangerous. This hurt, Sunshine. This fucking hurt, Sunshine. It wasn't even that he was jealous though he knew that was a part of it. You're mine, dammit! He was aware of the provincial nature of his attitude. But on some primal level, Brian felt that way. Felt that Justin had been his, marked for his influence, since the night he'd seen him under the lamp on Liberty Avenue.

"Europe. It's where he's been the last ten months, touring and promoting his CD," Justin said. He didn't really want to be around Brian when he was like this. He was more dangerous when he was quietly angry than when his anger burned hot like it had after the break-in. Figuring he knew what Brian's next question or accusation would be, he said, "He's sent me a few emails." Two of which were pleas to resume our relationship which I shot down. Cause even when things aren't great between us, Brian, I'm still yours. And I would never have gone back to Ethan.

"How many is a few?"

"Three. Brian, I never encouraged him. I made it clear that you and I were back together."

"Bet he loved that." Wished he could have seen Ian's reaction when he learned that Justin and I were back together, that we'd rekindled the passion and the torch, burning hotter than ever before.

"I can't believe you're actually jealous of him. You have nothing to worry about." Brian was right about Ethan's reaction. He'd accused Justin of selling out, not understanding that his relationship with Justin had been the sellout. That had been selling out what he'd had with Brian.

"Maybe not but you were the one who left before," Brian cringed, realizing how weak he sounded. He fucking hated discussing this emotional baggage shit. He thought he was OK with how he and Justin had resurrected their relationship. But Ian still made him feel insecure.

It always circled back to Justin's mistake, to Justin's betrayal. Despite their resolution to never discuss the interlude with the violinist, Justin knew and accepted that Brian would always doubt him on some subatomic level. "I came back. I meant what I said in your office that night. You've got to forgive me. You've got to trust me. I can't believe we're heading back there again." Justin realized how much he sounded like Carrie in Sex and the City when she'd broken it off with Aidan again. Somehow he always seemed to have the female response to things whereas Brian was almost clinically detached, emotionless. Especially when the emotion ran deep. "I'm going to go. Maybe Daphne and I will catch a movie." Before I make an ass out of myself. Or say something I can't take back.

He hadn't really expected a response from Brian but he'd hoped for one. Then he heard Brian say, in a cold voice, "Run, little boy, run. Go after him."

Justin hadn't felt this kind of rage emanate from Brian since before the end of their relationship when he'd returned and he and Brian had come together intensely. Then Brian had pushed him away saying, "You stink. Go take a shower." Justin was determined that Brian wouldn't do that again. That he wouldn't throw away whatever it was that they were building because of some fucking mistake he'd made when he was scared shitless that Brian didn't feel anything. He knew it was naïve and insecure of him to have left. So he wasn't going to just walk out the door or be pushed off a cliff again.

"Fuck you, Brian." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brian stand and make his way over to the drink cart.

Justin supposed he should be grateful it was Beam and not a few lines of coke. He knew that wasn't fair because Brian had cut down substantially on his drug use. Justin wondered how much of that was due to the regimen of medication he had to take for the cancer, and how much was by choice. He had no desire to watch his lover's self-destructive behavior. He heard the familiar sound of bottle clinking against glass. "What's that going to help?" he asked, standing so close he could feel Brian trembling. Then he jumped as Brian threw a half-empty bottle of vodka at the far wall where it shattered with a very satisfying sound. He knew Brian would be frustrated when he realized that he was going to have to clean it up. It appeared that Brian was channeling Jack Kinney.

Every instinct he had was telling him to run but Brian had never been violent towards him outside of their brief foray into rough sexual play. Even when he'd been hanging around that fucking asshole Cody, Brian had anticipated and accepted Justin's mood swings and need for physical expression. "Brian, is that really going to help?"

Brian set the glass down on the window ledge with a thud and turned to face Justin. Justin could tell the mask had slipped a little bit. "What are you still doing here?" Thank God. I need you tonight. Need you to make me feel loved. Christ, when did that happen? When did I begin to need you?

"Asking myself that same question," Justin answered honestly. He decided to shift tactics. He knew what Brian was trying to do and was equally as determined that it wasn't going to work. This time he wasn't going to jump off a cliff or leave him just because things weren't going the way he wanted them to. He refused to let Brian push him away because he was in pain from dealing with his sister.

Brian stood there, silent as a statue. He knew Justin was right. Getting drunk wouldn't fix anything but it was one of his favorite forms of pain management. He really wanted to go out to Babylon or the baths and fuck some anonymous trick but couldn't. It sucked, and not in a positive life-affirming way, that he couldn't have sex. That his body wasn't physically able to engage in one of his favorite activities. There were times when he wondered if he was like Christian, that plastic surgeon asshole on Nip/Tuck, who seemed to be a sex addict. Then he dismissed it. Brian was self-aware enough to realize the similarities between himself and Christian, the primary difference being that Brian fucked guys. He'd give anything to fuck Justin senseless like he had after Stockwell and Gardner had paid their little visit. Or in New York. There were some memories that still had the ability to make him hard. Now instead of having sex, he was forced to talk. Talk. Christ, how the mighty have fallen.

Justin was aware of how easy it would be to just walk out and let Brian cool down on his own. But he felt that was a chicken shit move because Brian needed him even if he was loathe to admit it. So gathering his resolve, Justin decided to call Brian's bluff and shift Brian's focus. So Justin crossed into Brian's line of sight, saw Brian's eyes go dark. He gently began to push the soft grey drawstring pants down off over his hips, revealing the blonde thatch of hair and his dick. He heard Brian hiss. Justin suppressed a smile; there were benefits to going commando, and when he was spending time with Brian, it was rare for him to wear a jock. "You want to punish me, don't you? You want to punish me for caring about another. Punish me for leaving you. I'm not going anywhere, baby. I'm on to you, remember?"

Brian's eyes closed as he remembered the lazy Sunday afternoons they'd spent with Justin sitting astride him on the leather chaise, feeding each other vanilla ice cream. With the image fresh in his mind, a sound which was a cross between a growl and a scream was torn from Brian's throat. The sound was raw and primal in its intensity. "Go," he ground out. "Go, Justin." This was so unfair. This kind of teasing was unfair and Brian had forgotten that Justin had learned the art of sexual teasing from him, the self-professed master. The libertine of Liberty Avenue.

Justin had never seen Brian like this and it was close to the front of his mind, that he was playing a dangerous game in that Brian couldn't exactly reciprocate at the moment. That he was teasing a lion. That he was Simba to Brian's Mufasa and that turnabout was fair play. He stepped closer to him, so that he could smell the whiskey on Brian's breath along with spearmint gum, and said, "No."

Then, he slipped the t-shirt off over his head, the platinum bar in his nipple glinting in the late afternoon sun. Ethan had never really liked the ring in Justin's nipple but it had driven Brian mad. Wild enough that he'd bought Justin the platinum bar. Brian loved tugging on it during sex, loved sucking on his nipple with the bar piercing it. "It's me you want to punish, isn't it? Me, you want. You want me to be yours again. All yours." Justin remembered the events of an afternoon early after their reconciliation when Brian had gotten it into his head that he wanted to watch Justin jacking him off. Brian had been so close and then he'd insisted on coming on his ass, marking him as his. Brian had carefully aimed so that Justin's perfect bubble butt was painted with creamy lines of his jizz. It had led to Brian licking it off him, then rimming him until he had begged Brian to fuck him, harder and faster.

Justin knew Brian had just been fucking with Ethan's head but there was some truth to what he'd said. Brian was still the only man he'd want to fuck him raw. It had felt disloyal somehow to let Ethan fuck him. To Brian. So he hadn't, simply insisted on fucking Ethan. He hadn't analyzed that too closely. He didn't figure it was a healthy perspective. Looking back upon that decision, Justin figured he should have known then that the relationship with Ethan was just a stopgap measure. That he still loved Brian. Probably always would. Cause he was like a wolf and didn't wolves mate for life? Whereas Brian was very much the lion, the solitary hunter with many sexual partners, but only one mate. If only he'd admit it.

Justin came back to himself when Brian said, in a low voice coarsened with desire, "Yes." His eyes took in the sight of the very naked Justin. His own Playgirl centerfold come to life. Keeping that image in focus he slowly began to ground himself. He hated, fucking hated, the fiddler and the fact that having Justin was out of the question for the moment. Goddamn cancer. His eyes were drawn to Justin's dick which had lengthened and grown hard during the encounter. "You're hard," he said, breathing shallow. There was an answering tug in his groin but Brian knew from experience, painful experience, that it wouldn't last long enough for either of them to get anything out of it. But when he could sustain an erection, Justin would regret teasing him in this manner. That Brian was sure of. "Sunshine, you're not fighting fair."

Justin looked at him and said, "Brian, you're the only one who can get me this hard, this fast. Only you. You are the only one who can make me have a spontaneous orgasm." Never Ethan. Not any of the tricks in the backroom either. It wasn't rational what Brian brought out in him.

"Right now, I want to fuck you until you pass out screaming my name, but I can't," Brian growled, frustrated beyond belief.

"This is for you, Brian. Tell me what you want to do to me," Justin said his voice a seductive purr. I want you to fuck me. I want you to mark me. I want you to feel like the god you are. But Justin knew it would take time for Brian's body to heal itself enough to feel up to it. He knew that not being able to fuck was like removing one of Brian's limbs.

"I want to fuck your tight ass with my nine-and-a half inch dick," Brian said, voice raspy. "Watch you ride me. Have you shoot on my chest."

"What else?" Seductive purr.

Fucker.

He was fully aware of what he was doing to Brian.

Before answering, Brian pointed to the loft door. "Lock it." He had no desire for anymore unwelcome visitors. Then he gestured to the phone and answering machine, waiting as Justin turned them off. He said, softly, as he realized what Justin had called him earlier, "You called me baby."

Brian saw him immediately tense as if expecting a blow. The only endearments Brian used were Sunshine and Sonny Boy; honey was delivered in a high falsetto that let you know just what Brian really thought of that term. "Baby" would be too nelly for Brian, Justin realized. It hadn't been planned. "Yeah, I'm---" He started to say sorry then his baby blues met Brian's eyes.

Brian smiled ruefully. Seemed the young cub had learned a little too well from the master. He knew that he had to make sure Justin knew he wasn't pissed. "It's okay, Sonny Boy. I didn't mind. Too much," he said. He went on to say, "Just don't say it in public, okay."

Justin nodded. Brian smiled mischievously. Even if he couldn't get hard--- Christ, did I just think that? He knew he and Justin could have fun. Brian knew how talented his tongue was and loved eating Justin out, loved the sounds Justin made when he replaced his tongue with his finger and attacked his prostate. But there was something about fucking Justin that did something to Brian that couldn't be defined. Brian sighed.

He looked up and realized Justin had disappeared into the bedroom. He stood at the top of the stairs looking at his young lover, lying supine on the bed. "Brian," Justin said a tentative note in his voice. He adjusted himself on the bed. He paused when he realized Brian was still fully clothed. And it was then that Justin began to comprehend just what a mean thing he'd done to Brian. That this had to be sheer unadulterated agony for him. Justin looked down at himself and realized he wasn't as hard as he'd been only moments before. It seemed Brian had just come to the same conclusion. He watched Brian look down then back at Justin. Brian sighed and shook his head. Just wasn't happening. Too soon, he thought.

"I can't," he admitted. "Maybe you should go to the baths or the backroom. Get a blow job. Fuck some twinkie." Brian hated making that suggestion, but he knew he wouldn't be able to stay hard long enough to fuck Justin the way he wanted. Not for the first time he wished his pride hadn't prevented him from refusing the doctor's prescription for Viagra that had been offered to him. He remembered the last time he'd popped Viagra. He had fucked Justin for hours, causing the then-teen to walk bowlegged for days afterward. Ah yes, the good ole days, he thought bitterly. What the hell am I supposed to do?

Justin shook his head but didn't say anything. Words could only make this worse. He didn't want some twinkie, it was Brian he wanted, not some nameless trick. He wanted to ride Brian until they were both incoherent. Before the cancer, they'd been fucking face to face more often than not. It was more intimate than when Brian took him from behind as he did in the backroom. Justin had wondered at the shift but knew Brian wouldn't admit it was because he preferred to look at Justin as he came, to feel that deep intense emotional connection as well as physical.

He clambered off the bed, stalking naked into the bathroom, erection leading the way. He closed the door behind him, leaving Brian behind to stare at the closed door with something approaching guilt. He couldn't muster up any anger towards Brian because they were both suffering. Hell, Justin was forced to jack off and Brian would have a case of terminal blue balls. Ouch, Justin winced at the thought. Then he turned on the water in the shower. It had been a long time since he'd been forced to jack off in the shower alone. He imagined Brian fucking him raw; it was his favorite fantasy. Imagined himself kneeling on all fours with Brian behind him, lapping up the cum, tongue bathing his hole, darting in and out with varying intensity, attacking his prostate. He stroked his shaft more furiously until he shot, his spunk whirling away down the drain. He felt the unmistakable prickle of tears but knew that was ridiculous. How many years had he waited for an adult relationship with Brian? A relationship that wasn't based solely on sex, a relationship with more dimensions than just carnality. And now, that was all he wanted. He wanted the sex back but more importantly he wanted Brian back, whole and healthy. And his. He sighed as he turned off the water, opened the shower door, and reached for one of the fluffy bath towels.

Wrapping one around his waist, Justin looked at his reflection in the steamy mirror. Like Brian had earlier that day, Justin pondered the realization that he and Brian had been together for roughly four years. It seemed like only yesterday that he'd been that young, naïve twink standing on a corner of Liberty Avenue waiting for his life to begin. When a tall, handsome man had stopped getting in his jeep and his life had begun with the words, "You going anyplace special? I can change that." And Brian had. His life had turned out so differently. Strange what role destiny can play. And Justin had known since the very beginning that Brian Aidan Kinney was his destiny even if Brian had fought it.

"Justin," Brian's voice sounded as if it came from inside a wind tunnel.

Justin opened the door to find a dejected looking Brian sitting on the bed. "This isn't goddamn fair, Justin. I know that. If you need to trick, trick."

Justin crossed to the upright dresser and removed another pair of grey sweatpants. Brian teased him mercifully about his college boy taste in clothes but it was all about comfort. He always felt like Armani or D & G should be framed, not worn. Though Brian wore them as perfectly as if they'd been designed for him.

"It's OK. It'll just take time. I get that." Justin remembered how understanding Brian had been after he'd been bashed, when he shied away from even the gentlest of touches. Brian had been patient and Justin would forever remember the night of Gus' first birthday party as the night they'd first made love as a transcendent experience. He was willing to wait for Brian.

Justin knelt behind Brian, wrapping his arms around his lover's midsection, feeling Brian relax against him. He kissed Brian's shoulder. "It won't kill me to jack off. And there's other stuff we can do," Justin said, a gleam in his eye as he thought of Brian's toy chest, thought of the anal beads and ten-inch dildo and the vibrating butt plug. The handcuffs. Oh my!

"Yeah, I guess," Brian said, sounding less than thrilled. Toys were highly overrated in his opinion. He wanted to fuck Justin tonight, make an imprint, and wipe away thoughts of Ian ever touching the beautiful alabaster body that was his in so many ways.

Justin tugged on him until Brian was reclining, head in his lap, feet firmly planted on the ground. It wasn't something Brian allowed himself to do often. He could count on both hands the number of times he'd leaned against Justin or fallen asleep on him. He was always worried he'd smother him but sometimes he needed that necessary closeness. Needed to smell Justin's clean scent. Needed to know he was loved.

"You jacked off in the shower, didn't you?" Even through the clean scent of the cucumber melon bath gel he could smell the lingering scent of semen.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry. This sucks."

Justin ran his fingers through Brian's hair, the other hand reaching for Brian's, relieved when Brian's fingers laced with his. Brian took a long moment to relish the attention, hating that he'd needed it and knowing that he was relieved that Justin hadn't walked out the door after Claire and the fiddler. What a fucking fiasco. "I didn't want him here. I wanted to kick his smarmy, smug little ass." And Claire's.

"I understand. Brian, I would never have invited him here." I wouldn't do that to you. Wouldn't hurt you again for the world.

"I know." The mere thought of the fiddler and Justin together drove Brian far beyond rational thought. Brian knew that. But the fact remained that the violin player wouldn't have stopped by the loft, risking Brian's considerable wrath, without good reason. And it had to be something important which made Brian's blood run cold. Logical, cold mind flipping through the various things it could be. "You need to talk to him," Brian simply stated.

"You OK with that?"

Brian sighed deeply, nestling deeper against Justin. "No, but it's something you need to do. Have to admit it took balls for him to come here. I'm not happy about that."

"I never thought he'd have the nerve to show up here. I told him not to." Justin remembered the nights he and Ethan had fought about Brian, about the place the charismatic and sexy ad executive still had in his life. Ethan hadn't understood that Brian would always be in his life in one way or another.

"Afraid he'd get hurt?"

"No. Afraid you'd end up in a cell on assault and battery charges." Justin said, smirking.

Brian smiled. "Why, Sunshine, I do believe you care," he drawled in a lazy Southern drawl cross-married with an Irish brogue.

"Asshole." The insult was said fondly.

"Twat."

Then Brian turned more serious, "I have a doctor's appointment in a week. Can you free up your schedule? I probably won't be able to drive home. The radiation kicks my ass. You'd think after all the shit I've pumped through my system over the years: the E, the special K, and the coke, that I'd be able to handle this."

Justin smiled. Trust Brian to spin it to his own advantage. He was fully aware of the import of what Brian was asking of him. He also knew that Brian would be pissed if he overreacted to the request. So he simply said, "Yeah, I can."

"Thank you," Brian said, shifting so that he was lying on the bed, and not on Justin. Justin let him go sensing he needed the separation. "I'm so fucking tired, Sunshine. If you want to go out for a while, I'll be okay. Just planning on sleeping." It wasn't that he was trying to get rid of the kid, he just wanted him to have options other than standing sentinel over a sick lover. This was why he'd wanted Justin gone, Brian admitted. He hated anyone seeing him vulnerable especially Justin.

"Good here. Maybe I'll try to read Atlas Shrugged again." The classic novel by Ayn Rand was one of Brian's favorites. Justin had tried to read it over the years but had always put it down in frustration. There were pages that were dog-eared and scribbled notes that gave him further insight into his partner's mind.

"Who is John Galt?" Brian asked, sleepily. He knew the book intimately.

Justin could only laugh as he watched Brian slip further into sleep. Things would be okay, he hoped. The cancer was gone. He'd go through radiation and then he and Brian would be back to normal. Or whatever passed for normal between them. Justin had to have that hope or else he'd be despondent. His greatest fear was losing Brian. Would things be okay between them?

Return to Acknowledging Fears