Finding Your Own Way Back

Chapter 15

Turning back, Justin started to go back to the sofa when Brian said, "No. Sunshine, come here."

Justin walked up the stairs and Brian looked at him, an inexpressibly sad expression on his face. Whatever he was expecting Brian to say it wasn't what came out of his mouth. "Thank you."

"For what?" Did he just thank me? Surely I must be hearing things.

"Standing up to that cold, frigid bitch. Did you mean what you said?"

"Yes," Justin said. "Brian, she's your mother." And that mattered to him even if it didn't to Brian.

"Not in all the ways that count. No, Joan Kinney has never been my mother. She was the vessel that bore me but she treated me the same way she'd have treated a kitten who was born blind. Only I was a human child and she couldn't wring my neck and toss me out like yesterday's news. I was her burden to bear because she stood up to Pop when he wanted her to get an abortion. Her fucking Christian duty." The pain in Brian's voice was palpable and heart-breaking. Justin still had that childlike faith in the hope that all parents would love their children even though both of them had found that not to be true.

"Brian," Justin started but he simply shook his head.

"No talking. I just want to feel for now. Justin, she's not worth our thoughts. She took the vodka, didn't she?"

Sadly Justin nodded and heard him laugh bitterly. "Of course she did. And I'm betting it was either Ketel One or Gray Goose."

Again Justin nodded. Brian met his eyes and said, "The one good thing Joan Kinney passed on to me was an appreciation of good booze. Although I don't know that I should credit her with that. It is after all an Irish thing."

"Brian," Justin began again.

Wordlessly Brian began to unbutton his jeans and said quietly, "Make me forget. Take me to a place where I don't think anymore except about the pinnacle of pleasure. The place of the unending orgasm." He slipped out of the jeans and tossed them away. Turning back to Justin, he smiled and said, "You've always wanted to do with me what you wanted. Now's your chance."

Faced with a naked Brian whose sexual appeal was as tantalizing as that of a child drawn to an ice cream cone, Justin nevertheless hesitated. He slipped out of his own sweatpants, eyes drawn to the sleeping cock nestled in the chestnut pubes. He knew that Brian's pain management system included getting drunk and high; often it included sex with multiple partners. Now, Brian was finding that release with him.

He straddled Brian, noticing the man's eyes were closed. "Brian," he said, softly.

"Hmm," the hazel eyes slid slowly open, taking a moment to focus on his face.

"Is this what you want?"

"Yes," the words seemed torn from him. His eyes opened and he tugged Justin down so that he could find the teen's mouth with his own. "I want you," he said.

Brian wasn't hard and he knew that it would take him some time. Joan Kinney was the epitome of an anti-erection device. He sighed when he felt Justin's mouth on his throat, the tongue slowly licking a path down his torso, stopping to wash over his navel with deliberate strokes. He raised his hands and put them above his head, totally giving himself over to the attention he was getting from Justin.

"Brian, what do you want me to do?"

"Um," he sighed. "Lick my nipples."

Justin redirected the course of his tactile assault on Brian. He licked up his ribcage and down the other side, avoiding the sensitive nubs of flesh. He then licked in slow, decreasing circles around Brian's nipples, affording both the same treatment. "Justin," Brian moaned out, as his tongue finally made contact, then drawing his nipple inside the hot warmth of Justin's mouth, sucking until Brian cried out, the line being reached between pleasure and pain. Both of them had high pain thresholds. Doing the same to the other one, Brian couldn't help but arch up into him as Justin continued his assault, finally letting the flesh slide free, hard and standing out from Brian's chest, shining with saliva.

Brian's dick was arching towards his belly, tip leaking pre-come. Again moving down his body, Justin's nose buried itself in his pubes, as if he were a dog scenting out a trail. It smelled good; innately Brian. Avoiding his dick for the moment, he concentrated on Brian's sac, lapping at it with broad strokes of his tongue, tongue licking the sensitive skin of his perineum. Then he took one of his full balls into his mouth, rolling it, before doing the same to the other. "God, Just," Brian moaned.

When Justin finally took Brian's stiff prick into his mouth, he sucked the erection, lips tightening around the engorged head, as he trailed his tongue slowly along the shaft. He concentrated for long moments on the shaft as he felt Brian begin to writhe, and his fingers fist in his hair, as Brian fought the need to thrust into his welcoming warmth. His tongue played in Brian's cock slit, as it flicked over the tip of Brian's dick, rewarded with a taste of freely leaking come. "You hot little boy," he gasped out, as he felt Justin's tongue probe his piss hole.

Letting him slip free for a moment, Justin said, "I want you to fuck my throat, Brian. I want to swallow your seed." Make me your witness, he thought, reminded briefly of the Sarah MacLachlan song.

Eyes darkened with lust and the need for Justin's mouth to be on him again, he only nodded. "Mouth on me now," he grunted out.

As he felt Justin's mouth on him again, Brian knew he was close even before he felt Justin's hand begin to alternately tug on his balls, and stroke the sensitive skin between balls and asshole. "Slide a finger in me," he said, waiting as Justin did so. His hole eagerly accepted the sudden intruder. Mimicking the up and down movement of his mouth, Justin worked his finger in and out of Brian's hole, knuckle knocking on the outside ring, causing him to whimper. "Aw fuck," he moaned.

Now Justin freely lapped at the sensitive skin under the head of Brian's cock. Relaxing his throat muscles, he felt Brian slide deeper inside, until the head of his dick was resting against his throat. Working his balls continuously, he knew when Brian was about to shoot, hips arching up towards his mouth. Then his mouth was flooded with creamy, hot jism. Continuing to orgasm, Justin worked to swallow the full load, as the contractions passed, leaving Brian's body limp. He swallowed most but not all, saving some in his mouth as Brian slid out of his mouth.

"Oh, God, Justin," he ground out as the teen raised his head. He met the teen's eyes and beckoned him closer. When their mouths met in a kiss, Justin passed him the rest of his semen, as his tongue found Brian's in a sensual dance.

Pausing, Justin rolled away from him. Brian fumbled for his pack of cigarettes, finally finding one and lighting it. He handed the cigarette to Justin who took a drag before passing it back to him. It occurred to Justin that he'd just been used but somehow it didn't matter. Languidly Brian said, "I know that wasn't what you were expecting for brunch."

Turning onto his stomach, he looked at Brian. "I always appreciate a high protein snack."

"I've taught you so well," he said wryly. "But I guess you actually want food." Then looking at Justin, he said, "We can't all have mothers like Debbie or Jennifer, Justin. Mine would be happy if the earth opened up and swallowed me where I stand."

"Was it really that bad for you growing up?" Justin said, heart aching for the pain of Brian's childhood or lack of one, so it seemed.

Brian glanced at him. "You've met my mother. You went to my sister's house for me. And you doubt that I had a fucked-up childhood?"

"No," Justin said, sighing. "That wasn't what I meant?"

"Then what, Sunshine?" Brian said, his own voice growing weary. This is why he didn't invite his fucking family over for Sunday dinner. It was more like the Addams family than Ozzie and Harriet. Or even Ozzie and Sharon. He took another pull on his cigarette and sat up. "You had an idyllic childhood up until the time I made my ill-fated entrance into your life. Everything would've been fine if you hadn't met me. You wouldn't have gotten hurt." I wouldn't have gotten hurt, he silently added.

"That's bullshit. Chris Hobbs probably would have attacked me regardless. And I would still have been the faggot son to my dad, Brian. Try another one, please."

"Okay, Sunshine," Brian spit out, words harsh. It occurred to him that he had wanted to bask in the languor post-sex not talk. But Sunshine wanted to talk so Brian was willing to indulge him. For the moment. "I think Jack first hit me when I was around Gus's age. He stumbled into the house one afternoon drunk. I think I'd left my erector set out on the living room floor and he took a header onto the floor, narrowly missing the linoleum in the kitchen. Sometimes I wish it had been in a different position." Meeting Justin's eyes, he saw the compassion resting in the serious blue eyes. "He jumped up and, seeing me, asked me what the fuck I thought I was doing leaving my toys in the middle of the floor. Mom was in the kitchen or upstairs, I can't remember. So he looms over me and I'm fucking scared. For Christ's sake, I'm not even four years old and my dad is yelling at me. He keeps yelling and finally I piss my pants." Hesitating a brief moment before plunging onwards, he muttered, "Sure you want me to continue?"

Uneasily Justin nodded. "Then bring me the fucking bottle of Beam, Sunshine." Because I sure as shit can't, no won't, talk about this sober.

Standing, Justin tentatively walked down the stairs, knowing that Brian's eyes followed his descent. He retrieved the bottle of Beam and a glass and returned to Brian. His eyes were so dark as to nearly be impenetrable. Handing Brian the bottle and glass, Justin sat down near the edge of his side of the bed, as far away from Brian as he could be without standing on the stairs. If Brian noticed his position, he didn't comment, just continued talking.

"He calls me a sissy boy, says only babies piss their pants. That I need to buck up. Then he backhands me and I fall backwards onto the floor. He jerked me up and pulled down my pants, saying, 'that I didn't deserve to have a penis. Because only real little boys are worth having a dick. That I'm a pussy. That I'm a disgrace to him, that I shouldn't have been born. Then he drags me into the bathroom. He bends me over the toilet and," Brian's voice got soft and Justin felt a heightened sense of unease and horror. But Brian continued, "He takes off his belt and it's the cured leather one that has a metal buckle. You with me, Sunshine?"

Justin could only nod, rendered silent by the horror of Brian's tale and his memory of an event that happened over twenty years before. "Instead of hitting me with the leather, Jack makes sure that it's the buckle that hits my skin on every lash. He's whaling on me and I'm crying and trying to understand what I did to make Pop so mad when Mom comes into the bathroom. She's horrified but says only, 'Jack, be careful. You don't want to have to take him to the hospital. How would you explain this?' That was her fucking concern. How it would look to the fellow parishioners and the public. She didn't give a shit about her four-year-old son. That it was me."

"Stop," Justin said, voice trembling. "Stop."

"You wanted to know," Brian said, realizing that his words are cruel. "So Jack stops and for a few days afterwards I've got an imprint of that fucking belt buckle in the cheek of my ass. And that bastard did this to a fucking four year old kid. So excuse me if I don't have more compassion or sympathy for my mother. She stood by and did nothing. Hell, I suppose I should consider myself lucky that Jack didn't try anything else with me. God knew he didn't think I was worth shit."

"Brian," Justin said, tears freely flowing now.

"Allergies?" Brian said, voice incredibly cold and cruel.

Justin looked at him. "Yeah, it's my fucking allergies." He stood and retrieved his sweatpants and a t-shirt. He padded downstairs to the living room and sank down on the sofa, head in his hands as the sobs quietly wracked his body. Orgasm to fight in the space of thirty minutes, he thought, bitterly. Life with Brian resumes as normal.

In the bedroom, Brian looked down at himself. Then he got up and went to the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror for long moments. Great, just fucking great, Brian. You hurt him. Was that what you intended? Make Justin pay for asking you about your life? Then, he thought, well, he asked. Like you asked for Jack to hit you, to make you feel like shit every day of your fucking childhood, a tiny voice echoed in the back of his head. Shit, he thought.

He returned to the bedroom and pulled on the pair of jeans. Sighing, he joined Justin in the living room, deliberately sitting at the opposite end of the sofa. "Justin, I'm-"

"What, Brian? You're what?"

"Sorry."

"Sorry's bullshit."

"Don't toss my own words back in my face. Wasn't it you who said being mean to you never really worked?"

"I lied," Justin said, but the tears had stopped. "You know you can be deliberately cruel."

Brian nodded. He hadn't set out to hurt Justin; he had only wanted to make a point. "You wanted to know."

"Yeah, I did. Brian, no child deserves that. Especially not one who's barely out of babyhood. How can you remember that?"

Brian simply looked at him. "If it had happened to you, would you have forgotten?"

Mutely, Justin shook his head. No, I wouldn't have forgotten. "We shared something incredibly intimate and within the space of a few minutes I feel like shit."

Brian stood abruptly, looking at him. "I can take you home. We'll chalk the whole thing up to an experiment that went awry."

"Fuck you, Brian."

"Didn't you just do that?"

"You want me to leave?"

Wordlessly, Brian only returned to the bedroom. Lying back on the bed, he lit another cigarette, slowly blowing smoke rings. Justin sat on the sofa thinking. He'd walked back into this relationship, or whatever the fuck it was, with open eyes. No one had ever said that life with Brian would be easy. In every person's life you reach a crossroads, where you need to find your own direction, your own sense of purpose; Justin was facing his own. A crisis of conscience.

Sighing resignedly, he walked slowly up the stairs, lying down on Brian, so that his head rested on his chest. "You OK?" Brian asked, voice quiet.

"Yeah. Are you?"

Not answering the question posed, Brian said, "I came to terms with my childhood a long time ago, Justin. Whatever else your father is, he loves you. He wanted you when your mom told him she was pregnant. I can guarantee that Craig didn't tell her to go and get a fucking abortion. Do you know what it's like living with that every day, knowing that the only reason you exist is because of some antiquated Catholic dogma?"

"No," Justin said.

Brian rolled them over so that he loomed above Justin. "You asked me if my childhood was really that bad. You've just had a taste of the horrors of the Kinney family. Do you really want to be with me?"

"You'd never hurt me, Brian."

"You shouldn't trust me so blindly, Sunshine."

Justin sighed and looked up at him. "Just because your parents were jackals doesn't mean that you are. You are who you are despite your parents. You gave your parents' the royal fuck you when you became a success. Don't let them take that away from you."

"When did you become so wise?"

"I don't know," he answered. "Brian, hurting each other doesn't make the pain go away."

"I know," he said, his voice tight. I don't like hurting you, Sunshine. "You know this wasn't how I planned today."

Smiling slightly, he said, "So don't let your mom fuck it up. Tell me how you wanted to spend today."

"Let's get out of here. We both could use some air."

Nodding, he asked, "Do you want to get cleaned up first?"

Brian shook his head. "Let's go get some ice cream."

"Who are you and what have you done with Brian Kinney?" he tentatively joked.

Brian smiled. "Then we can go to see your apartment."

He nodded. "Why do you want to see my apartment?"

"Well, I want to see the room you jacked off in and the toys you acquired during our unfortunate estrangement. Test out your bed, make sure it's safe. And we should probably talk to Daphne so she has time to consider this whole thing. Maybe watch a movie."

Justin nodded. "What about Cynthia?"

"Ah, yes, my lovely and talented assistant. Leave her to me. I know just how to handle her. We'll need to make a stop at Forbidden Fruit on the way home."

Staring at him, Justin asked, "Are we okay?"

"Yeah, we're okay. I just had a brief lapse into being a prick, Justin."

"You're evil," Justin said, wondering just what his lover had in mind.

"No, I'm sweet," Brian said.

They would remember that conversation in the days and weeks to come when things emerged to test their newfound conviction to each other and their relationship.

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