Finding Your Own Way Back

Chapter 3

Brian stood and walked over to stand in front of the window, staring out at the Pittsburgh skyline. It was a familiar pose, Brian's favorite thinking or brooding position. Without saying anything, Justin crossed to the drink cart. He uncapped the bottle of Beam, poured an inch into a cut crystal tumbler and handed it to Brian, wordlessly returning to the sofa.

"I think I need to do this," he said. He set the glass down on the ledge and turned back to face Justin. "Guess it's a damn good thing tomorrow's Saturday, Sunshine," he said, dryly.

It had been a deliberate choice when he'd opted to meet with Brian on a Friday night when they wouldn't have to face each other at the office the next day if things went badly. "Yeah."

Christ, this is awful. For the first time, he began to understand how Lindsay had felt when Melanie betrayed her. "There's something you need to see." He'd been surprised when Justin had returned from retrieving the blanket and hadn't said anything about the picture. But Justin had always been respectful of his privacy to a fault.

Curiosity aroused, Justin sat on the sofa. When Brian returned, he held a framed picture. He handed it to Justin, having a pretty good idea of what the teen's reaction would be. He'd hidden it deep within the depths of the closet after the Rage party, knowing that to see it would be too fucking painful. A reminder of why the Kinney men didn't do love.

"You bought it?" Justin's tone was incredulous. "I always thought you might have. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I don't know." Not exactly the truth but Justin would know what he meant. Would know that there was a lot more to be said, what it meant that he'd bought it when he'd repeatedly said the young artist meant nothing to him.

Fuck, Justin thought, Brian bought my sketch. He knew that vanity was only a small fraction of the reasoning behind the older man's decision. "Brian, I---. I don't know what to say."

A smile crossed Brian's face. So I've left you speechless? Good. "Chicago. Your birthday. Then no more talking for a while." Cause this is fucking exhausting. No wonder men don't do this. No wonder I don't do this.

Justin agreed. Brian hated to do this sort of thing. Emotional bullshit of any kind was anathema to him. Brian ran a hand over his face, almost as if he were washing without soap, before he began to speak. Justin curled up in a corner of the sofa, knowing Brian would sit if he chose to.

"Marty Ryder and I had a good working relationship for years. When I first started at the agency, I was young, brash, and full of myself. He knew I was good, knew that I could be fucking brilliant if I chose to be. So he took me under his wing, grooming me to be his second chair. The fact that I fucked guys didn't matter until Kip. When it began to look like we'd have to settle a sexual harassment lawsuit, he changed. He became less understanding. He'd practically assured me I'd be made partner which was why I felt I could spend the week in Vermont with you, when I'd never taken more than a few days off in years." He looked at Justin, making sure the teen was still with him.

"I'm listening." And he was. Usually he tended to zone out when Brian went into business mode but it was important to the man. Success was important to Brian for a multitude of reasons.

"So I went into the office early the week we were supposed to leave. Cyn caught me and said that Marty wanted to see me. I thought I was about to be handed the corner office, my dreams realized. But he called me in to let me know that he'd sold the company and was planning on spending the rest of his time on the fucking golf course." Brian paused; he could still remember how it felt having the rug pulled out from underneath him. "When I met with Gardner Vance, the new owner, he spoke about the rumors of me being gay. I gave him my standard one-liner. Then he said that I needed to give him a reason why he shouldn't fire my ass too."

"Shit," Justin whispered. Looking up, his eyes met hazel eyes which sparkled with condescension.

"He gave me a week to prove my worth. So I had Cynthia pull up everything she could on the guy. Bank records, credit report, Clio awards, and whether there were any big accounts he wanted but couldn't seem to land. She found one: Brown Athletics in Chicago. Justin, it was a split-second decision. I couldn't think about you 'cause I knew I'd be disappointing you. But I had to think about the four people in my life who counted on me bringing in a consistent paycheck." Cynthia, Lindsay, Gus, and you. Cynthia could have lost her job too if I'd lost mine.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Brian smirked. "You went into drama princess mode. It was supposed to be a one-night trip. I'd planned on revising our itinerary but I didn't get the chance to tell you that. Anyway, I met with Leo Brown at a chophouse. Showed him some rough proofs of a campaign I'd thrown together. Pretty fucking brilliant on such little time. So I landed the account, contingent on the fact that I be made partner and be the senior ad exec on the account. A stipulation that I knew would piss off Gardner."

"Uh huh."

Brian paused, remembering how fucking excited he'd been on the plane home. "I got home with a bottle of Veuve Cliquot Ponsardin champagne. To find the loft---"

"Empty," Justin interjected. He knew the rest of the story. He'd gone on to Vermont without Brian, sulking because he'd thought Brian was just being a prick. Had never considered the importance business played in his life as well as Brian's. That it wasn't just about the clothes and accessories and toys and the loft. He'd never realized that Brian worked so hard because he had people depending on him, including himself.

"Yeah. I called out, "Hey Sunshine, your partner just made partner."" Brian watched as Justin's face slowly drained of color. "I went to Babylon thinking you might be there. I found Emmett and the guys and they told me you'd gone on to Vermont without me. I spent the next five days here hoping that you might come home early. I didn't spend all that time in the backroom or the baths. In fact, the guy you came home to see me fucking was the first trick I'd had since before Chicago." No sense in mentioning the assistant he'd fucked on the Xerox machine to get the details of where Leo Brown was dining. Or the fact that it was Justin's image he jacked off to while alone in that hotel bed, though the bellhop had seemed interested in checking in more than just his luggage.

Shit. Holy fucking shit. Partner? Justin's mind was caught on that one little word. "I didn't know," he whispered. "Brian, if we'd talked about this, about anything-. I'm not saying that things would have turned out differently but they might have. I needed to know that I wasn't with you just cause you felt guilty, that it wasn't a nuisance having me around, that you cared."

Brian picked up the glass of whiskey and knocked it back. "You really need to stop listening to Michael. He doesn't have your best interests in mind. Hell, I don't think he has my best interests in mind. I wouldn't have asked you to Vermont if I didn't want to spend the time with you. I wouldn't have agreed to the fucking rules if you weren't the person I wanted to come home to. I don't know what would've happened between us if you hadn't been hurt but it wasn't the only reason you came to live with me. And if you'd asked me to go with you to the Bahamas, I'd have said yes." He finished with the coup de grace.

"Brian, I'm sorry."

"Sorry's bullshit."

"Not in this case, it isn't." Justin insisted. "We really don't have to talk about my birthday. I'd really rather you fuck me into unconsciousness." He could see that Brian's energy was draining.

Brian laughed and then smirked. "No, you need to know why I had the reaction I did to birthdays. It goes back to my childhood. You've met my mother; there are snakes warmer than Joan Kinney. Most kids joke about how their parents will give them a birthday spanking with one to grow on. Not so in the Kinney household." Especially when you're the child no one wanted. But he forced himself to continue despite the fact that this was leaving him more open, raw, and vulnerable to Justin than he'd ever been. Even Michael knew only bits and pieces. Lindsay knew little more than Michael. It was a big fucking deal that he was trusting Justin. "On my birthday I'd be quiet. I'd get cards from the kids at school and hide them in my desk cause I knew if I took them home, Pop would be angry. I'm sure that you had birthday parties with cake and ice cream and lots of presents. And everyone was happy."

Justin nodded silently, remembering his birthday parties as a kid and more recently Molly's. "Pop would come home loaded. I'd be hiding up in my bedroom, hating that I was getting older. Wished it was just another day and didn't understand why this day was so awful. Mom would be drunk off her ass in the living room, the empty bottle of sherry on the floor beside the couch. And he'd bellow, Sonny Boy. Come get your birthday surprise. Every fucking time. I'd want to crawl under the bed and then I'd hear his lumbering steps resound on the stairs. Knew I couldn't get out of it. So I'd go downstairs knowing exactly what Black Jack intended but not knowing a way to get out of it unscathed. He'd take off his belt, the one with the steel end," Brian's voice became harsher, as he was lost in the memory.

Justin couldn't do anything, though he saw the pain in Brian's face and wanted nothing more than to soothe him. "He jerked down my jeans and gave me the cursory number of whacks, raising welts and, on more than one occasion, drawing blood. He'd hit my ass with the first couple of blows but invariably they'd begin to land on my back. But he didn't stop until I was a whimpering mess. I could barely stifle my whimpers when I was little but by the time I was twelve, I'd bite through my lip so I wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing how much he'd hurt me. Would have done anything to get away from him. Then he let me go, patting my head, leaning in so close I could smell the whiskey on his breath, saying, your mom should've had an abortion. But she didn't because she's such a good Catholic. You'll never amount to anything, Sonny Boy. You'll always be a fuckin' loser."

The look in Brian's hazel eyes was haunted. Justin stayed silent. He'd never seen Brian like this. He figured Michael had. That Michael knew how to handle Brian when he became this mercurial. But he wasn't prepared for this. A Brian so out of control. So when the tears started to come, his first thought was oh, shit. "Brian," he said, quietly. No response.

Then a quiet voice said, "I'm here. Justin, I'm sorry." He sounded so far away, so lost.

"Why the fuck are you sorry? Brian, you have nothing to be sorry for." He stood and met Brian in the center of the room, taking the tumbler from him and setting it down. "Come on," he said, leading his lover up the stairs to the bedroom.

He could feel the sobs wracking Brian's body though they were soundless. "Justin," Brian whispered.

"Yeah, I'm here." Not going anywhere. Ever again. Not leaving you. "What is it?"

It was a long moment before Brian responded, "Stay." He heard his voice catch and knew that they'd reached a different place in their relationship.

Justin remembered the nights Brian had stayed up with him, comforting him after a nightmare. Remembered Brian holding him when all he needed was just the man's touch. Justin pulled back the duvet and coaxed Brian underneath the covers, knowing that sex was the last thing either of them needed. Knew that Brian just needing someone who loved him with him. A surge of guilt hit him. Brian wouldn't feel like this if I hadn't insisted on us talking, he thought. "Justin."

"Yeah, Bri." He hesitated then pulled the shirt off his head, then let the trousers fall in a heap at the end of the bed.

"You coming to bed?" Brian sounded forlorn, lost, and like a child. He knew when he awakened in the morning he'd have regrets. But for right now all he wanted was Justin curled up next to him, the teen's arms around him holding him tight, lending him strength.

In answer, Justin climbed into bed, laying on his side behind Brian, and then wrapped his arms around the older man. "Hush, sleep now. Your old man can't hurt you anymore. He's gone, Brian."

"But he's still here. He's here in me." Brian protested and it broke Justin's heart to hear him. That he felt that he was his father when he'd worked so fucking hard to be nothing like Jack Kinney.

Justin tightened his grip on Brian, drawing lazy circles on his arm. He remembered the last time they'd laid like this. But he wasn't going anywhere this time. "Sleep, Bri. Just sleep."

Justin lay awake for a long time, that night, waiting until he felt Brian's breathing shift and him ease into sleep. I'm sorry, Bri. Forgive me. I love you. It was the last thing he thought before he, too, surrendered to a much-needed sleep.

Later that same night…

Novotny-Bruckner household

Ben sat up in bed, grading papers while Michael stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Tired of his partner's unnatural silence, Ben took off his reading glasses and set them on the night stand along with the sheaf of papers.

"Michael, honey."

"Hmm?"

"What happened when you went to Brian's?"

"Nothing."

Sighing, Ben said, "C'mon. You were fine during dinner. So, what happened?"

Knowing Ben's gentle persuasive technique was as effective as his mom's harder edged, "What the fuck is wrong with you, kiddo?" tactic, Michael sighed. He'd returned home, visibly upset by Brian's treatment. And Ben like the others in their small select group knew that Brian had the power to hurt Michael like no one else. He also knew that Michael had a tendency to bring it down upon himself. So he wasn't too terribly sympathetic. Michael was upset that Brian had put the kid first. Again. "Found the Boy Wonder there with him."

Ah, Ben thought, beginning to understand why his partner seemed so morose. How even the prospect of a new shipment of comics coming into the Red Cape was not enough to lighten his mood or the prospect of just curling up together watching television.

"And Brian was just getting out of the shower. I asked him what the fuck he was thinking. Told him he was just a rebound, that Justin would only end up hurting him again," Michael sounded like an indignant child. Worse, like a spouse that had been betrayed.

Fuck. No wonder Brian reacted the way he had. "What did Brian say?" Ben asked, dreading the response. He could just imagine Brian's reaction to Michael's statement. Especially considering everyone knew just how miserable he'd been without the kid.

"Told me to get the fuck out. Said it wasn't any of my goddamn business who he was fucking. He actually defended the little twat." Michael couldn't hide that he was offended by Brian's behavior.

Ben didn't like it but he was all too aware that there was a part of Michael's heart that would always belong to Brian Kinney. And he was willing to accept that. There was also a part of him that hated that he'd had what Michael had been denied for over a decade: being fucked by Brian. Even so, he agreed with Brian's response.

"Honey, don't you think Brian deserves to be happy? Maybe Justin makes him happy." He certainly saw a different side of Brian when he and Justin were together. Saw glimpses of the real Brian that lay beneath the arrogance, saw Brian's soul.

Michael harrumphed. "Of course, I want Brian to be happy." Just not with Justin.

"Then let him work things out for himself with Justin. It's his life, honey." Ben gently reminded him.

Michael pouted but said only, "Let's go to sleep. We're supposed to meet him and the guys at the diner for breakfast."

Ben had his doubts about that. If Brian and Justin truly were working things out and getting back together, he figured the diner in the heart of Liberty Avenue was the last place Brian would choose to be. He'd seen how hurt and vulnerable Brian was after the Rage party. He'd known even as Brian denied it how much Brian loved the kid, that he was in love despite his best efforts.

So he simply turned out the light, drawing Michael closer to him, as they fell into sleep.

Back at the loft…

Brian awoke with a start, realizing that he'd opened up to Justin about a truly traumatic event of his childhood. His birthdays had sucked so he'd never seen any reason to celebrate them. Even the landmark ones, like turning eighteen and twenty-one had been anti-climactic. And everyone knew how well he'd handled turning thirty.

He felt Justin stir, the pale arms tightening slightly about him. Brian would never admit it, but he'd missed that. At least he's not going anywhere, he thought.

"Bri," a soft, sleepy voice asked.

"Yeah. Did I wake you?" Hadn't meant to.

" 's okay," Justin said, sleepily even as Brian felt a different part of his anatomy awaken.

"Happy to see me?" Brian teased, feeling the answering tug in his own cock.

A little more awake, Justin pressed a kiss to Brian's shoulder, letting his tongue draw a wet line up Brian's neck, sucking slightly on a spot he knew drove the older man crazy. Brian let out a little whimper that turned Justin on even more. Hearing that he could do that, make Brian lose a little bit of control like that, was more heady than any drug. His hands drifted lower as Brian shifted, raising his hips, to give him easier access. "Sunshine," Brian said, arousal and desire making his voice husky.

"Uh huh," Justin said, as he began to tug the sweatpants off.

"Don't start something you can't finish," Brian cautioned. He definitely wanted Justin. It felt like someone was injecting liquid steel into his dick. He needed some release or he was likely to explode on his sheets like some horny teenager. He kicked the sheet off. Justin let him go long enough for him to remove his wife-beater and toss it somewhere, heedless of where it landed.

All Justin wanted to do was worship his lover's body. Give Brian some form of release. "Do you still have that vanilla-sandalwood massage oil, Bri?" Justin purred.

He fucking purred. Christ. I'm not gonna beg, dammit. Feeling Justin's hands get busy, he revised that thought. Okay, keep doing that Sunshine, and I just might beg you to fuck me.

"Yeah, it's on the night stand," he choked out. He hadn't used it since well before Justin left. "Here." While he wasn't entirely sure he was ready to have Justin fuck him, a massage as prelude to some hot foreplay didn't seem like such a bad idea. And Justin was good with his hands. Brian could testify to that. "It's cold."

"It'll heat up," Justin said, then realized what he'd unconsciously said.

Hazel eyes met blue. Then Brian cracked a smile. "You think we'll ever forget that night?" He remembered more than he'd admit to, considering how high he'd been and considering that he'd known even then that Justin was going to be trouble. Trouble for his heart, at the very least.

"No. You were right, you know."

" 'bout what?"

This time Justin didn't smile. In fact, he was almost sad as he said, "That no matter who I was ever with you'd always be there. It's been a blessing and a curse, Bri. To know that when I was fucking someone else I was imagining you, fucking my ass."

Damn. "Justin, I didn't mean anything by it."

"I know."

Brian leaned closer, kissed Justin savagely, searching for the younger man's tongue until they met in a way that was uncomfortably like coming home. A power play as they each fought for dominance, Brian's stronger will winning out. The kiss shot straight to Brian's balls. Breaking it, he rolled onto his stomach. Justin ran a hand lightly over Brian's back, eliciting a whimper. "You don't want a towel?"

After three years, Justin knew how particular Brian was about his sheets and duvet. He'd never forget the man's reaction that first night when he'd shot all over the duvet and Brian.

"Fuck it," he growled. He wanted Justin's hands on him, in him, now. Now, dammit!

Recognizing the growing desperation in Brian's voice, Justin straddled him, knees on either side of his hips. "Justin," Brian moaned.

"Yes."

"You're not gonna get me off now, are you?"

"No."

"Just needed to know." Brian exerted every ounce of self control he had not to wince with pain as he suppressed the urge to spontaneously orgasm. It was something he'd learned to do though he hadn't practiced it often with Justin. "OK. I'm better now."

Justin realized what Brian had done and reminded himself that turnabout was fair play. And Brian could be absolutely merciless when teasing him. He waited as Brian turned back over onto his stomach, bunching a pillow underneath his head. He remembered well the last time he'd topped Brian, how it had been a mind-blowing experience. For the most part, he was content with his role as a bottom. But it was a part he played only with Brian. With everyone else, including Ethan, he was a top.

So Justin eased his weight as he lay on top of Brian, pressing a kiss to the nape of his lover's neck, knowing the exact spot to make Brian whimper with pleasure. He licked the sensitive skin behind Brian's ear, then traced his jaw line with his tongue, tongue tracing his lips, as he gently nipped his bottom lip.

Reaching for the bottle of massage oil, Justin uncapped it, moving down Brian's body, as he drizzled it. Felt Brian shudder beneath him as the cool liquid hit his body. "Oh, God," Brian moaned.

Justin smiled. Glad to know that I can still make him feel that way, he thought. Fairly silent in the backroom or the baths, Brian was really quite vocal when it was just the two of them.

Justin traced lazy circles with the oil, using the barest tip of his finger. He knew he was driving Brian fucking crazy. Could feel that Brian was trying not to buck back up against him. He let his hand drift lower until his finger probed the cherry of Brian's ass.

"You clean?"

Concentrating hard on not fucking the sheet, or grinding his dick into the mattress, Brian gasped out, "Yes, I'm fucking clean." Realized he sounded desperate and then, a second later, realized he didn't give a fuck. "Put something in me, goddammit. Your finger, your tongue, your cock. Justin, you're killing me here."

Brian braced himself as he felt Justin ease his legs apart. Holy fucking Christ, this was hot, he thought. Felt a gentle probing pressure and then a finger covered with massage oil eased past the first barrier of muscle. "God," he couldn't help moaning. Then a second one was added, scissoring back and forth.

"You're so fucking tight," Justin ground out, as his fingers explored Brian's hole, carefully avoiding his prostate. Didn't want Brian to come just yet.

Brian smiled into the pillow. "I know. Come on, Sunshine, I know you can fit another one in." He remembered the last time he'd been fisted though it hadn't been nearly as gentle. On occasion, he liked it rough. And for the first few days after Justin had left, he'd spent the night at Pistol instead of Babylon. Needed some punishment more than he needed a gentle, relaxing, non-complicated fuck.

So he whimpered with pleasure as Justin added another finger and then felt him hit his prostate with deadly accuracy. "Fuck," he moaned, unable to stop his hips from bucking as he began to fuck Justin's hand.

"You like that?" Justin asked, knowing that Brian was close.

"Yessss!" Brian all but shouted. No longer caring that he'd lost his dignity. Felt the familiar tightening of his balls and knew that he was close to a mind-blowing orgasm.

Justin eased a couple of fingers out then plunged them back in, hitting Brian's prostate as he shouted out, "Fucking God!"

Brian collapsed on the bed, back wet with sweat and oil. Justin eased off him so he could avoid the wet spot on the sheets. Brian rolled over and simply looked at him, while trying to regain his breath. "How the fuck did you know I needed that?"

Not many people would have been forceful after hearing the story about Brian's dad. They'd have been gentle, loving, and careful. Not so with Justin. Justin leaned over to press a kiss to his lips. "I'm onto you, remember?" Then he turned more serious, "I know when you need it fast and when you need it slow. And I know what you expect from me."

"Just as long as we're not too predictable. And it seems like you've learned quite a few tricks." Then Brian bit his lip, realizing he'd said too much.

"Tricks are for kids." Justin quipped. He looked down, saw his own cock was arching towards his belly, aching for release. Saw Brian's attention had turned towards it.

In amazement, Brian said, "I can't believe you didn't jack yourself off while you were doing me. We'll have to remedy the situation."

On any other occasion, Justin might have taken him up on his offer. But though he was hard as a rock and had never wanted Brian more, he didn't want Brian to feel an obligation. Felt Brian sit up and then felt Brian's mouth surround his cock. "Brian," Justin said.

As Brian's warm mouth wrapped around his dick, Brian's tongue darted out to do his magic. He didn't think anymore as he was just lost in the sensations of the masterful blow job. He thought Brian could probably teach the art of fellatio and make a fortune at it. Gentle, gliding strokes, then he felt Brian deep throat him, felt his head brush the back of Brian's throat. They'd long ago determined the rhythm for this so neither of them choked. Brian was determined to make this good. Justin concentrated on the sensation and not bucking his hips too soon, so that he wasn't fucking Brian's mouth. Ten minutes in, Justin was gone, lost in the sensation and the technique that Brian had long mastered. Then he felt the familiar tug in his balls, the tightening, and he whimpered, "I'm close."

Then he shot into Brian's mouth, felt the man swallow the creamy load. Eased his dick out of Brian's mouth and gasped. "Christ, that was fucking hot."

"That was fucking amazing," Brian agreed, as he came up to give Justin a kiss. "Now, Sonny Boy, let's get some fucking sleep."

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