White Christmas The room was dark, except for the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. Brian was mesmerized by the strobe effects as they flickered on and off. They had bought a twelve foot tree because they had the kind of living room that could accommodate it, but more importantly, this is what Justin wanted. It was their first Christmas since he'd come back from New York and they each wanted to make it perfect for the other. Justin had decided to go monochromatic, picking only white lights and silver tinsel. Even the glass balls were white or silver or clear, keeping the look clean and fresh and elegant. He was in a minimalist phase, disturbed by color or clutter of any sort. Everything he wore or painted was neutral; beige, white or grey. This was something that had appeared out of nowhere in the last six months and Justin had still not explained what the reason was for this sudden switch in style. Brian found it all very disturbing. He was the one who liked things stark and simple. Justin had always been about color. It seemed as if this was just one of many things that had changed while Justin was in New York. He'd only been gone seven months; not really long enough to make an impact on the art world, but somehow, he’d managed it. He'd put his name out there and actually sold some of his pieces. There were now two galleries that were working with him, displaying his artwork and signing contracts, committing to at least one show a year. So Justin had decided it was time to come home, even though Brian kept telling him that he should stay and finish out his lease. Justin was his usual stubborn self, insisting that he was done with New York. He pestered and badgered, adamant that he didn't need to be so far away. He could paint from home and wanted to. The phone calls were what finally got to Brian, coming every hour on the hour for twenty-four hours straight. They drove him crazy with the 'You-Are-My-Sunshine' ring tone. Even when he tried to disable the phone, Justin somehow managed to wiggle around the security system and get through. Finally, out of sheer desperation, he acquiesced. That was last week and now he was here. Home at Britin Manor, the palace he had bought for him eight months ago; the palace that was barely furnished, since their wedding-interruptus. He had not been motivated to do any shopping for furniture or anything else after the big day was called off. And one week’s notice wasn't time enough to refurbish an entire mansion, so they sat in a virtually empty house. The only rooms that had any furniture were the great room, which was really a combination living room/family room and their bedroom. Brian had run out and purchased the biggest, most comfortable, most expensive bed he could find on short notice. He had insisted on a four poster, necessary for all the twisted things he planned to do to Justin in bed, but he had a hell of a time finding one that wasn't ornate or tacky or out-and-out ugly. Finally, someone had suggested that he try an online bedroom manufacturer and he had struck pay dirt, at an obscenely high price, but he had the bed of his dreams and it was delivered and installed in a record six days. Every cent he had spent on that bed had been worth it. He and Justin had always had a great sex life, but since his return, it bordered on the unbelievable. It had taken on epic proportions and Brian was completely worn out. He actually thought about taking Viagra at one point to keep up with his insatiable partner but he nixed the idea when he realized that the only thing he needed to keep up, or rather, keep it up, was some food to fuel his body. So the delivery boys were now part of the routine, switching daily from Thai, to Italian, to Chinese. It didn't matter; everything tasted the same to him. He just needed the sustenance to maintain the twenty-four hour boner that his partner expected of him. And Justin did expect. He not only expected, he demanded, wanting to have sex in every room of the mansion, on every surface, in every position, at all hours of the day and night. He seemed to have this need to make up for the many months that they had been without each other. The months of longing to be together, the unsatisfying phone sex to try and maintain their connection, the lonely and fear-filled nights when jerking off was no longer the answer or comforting in any way; when the only thing that made any difference was going to bed, too drunk or too high to even think. Think about the emptiness, the need, the wanting. He called it his 'dark phase', referring to the last seven months as if it were a nightmare that happened to someone else in a x-rated horror flick. The only consolation either derived was from the knowing that they were both miserable. And now he was home. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ New York City, Six-and-a-half months ago. "I’ve asked you to check the locks on my door repeatedly and you have yet to do it," Justin said, addressing, Rusty, the superintendent of his apartment building. "Sorry Justin. Haven't had the time, I've been trying to finish the repairs on the furnace before winter hits and we all freeze to death." "Right now, I'm more concerned with my safety. It’s eighty degrees outside, Rusty. Somehow, winter does not seem to be an imminent threat. My front door is." "Have you tried jiggling the key in the lock?" "Do I look that stupid or what?" "Well, sometimes you artists are only good at certain things, not real handy around the house, you know?" "I happen to be very good with my hands. At all sorts of things," Justin replied haughtily. "I'll bet," Rusty said, leering at the stunning blond. "I can't believe you're hitting on me! Have you heard a single word I've said?" Justin asked the thirty-something guy in front of him who had the audacity to think that he would be remotely interested. "Yeah, I heard," Rusty replied, turning away and pulling up his pants, which had fallen low enough to reveal the crack of his ass. "Do you think it's within the realm of possibility that you would be able to get to it today? I have a brand new computer and I'm really not comfortable leaving my apartment unsecured. Not to mention the fact that I'm tired of sleeping with one eye on the door and a hand on my can of Mace." "Aww, come on kid, you honestly think anyone would want to break into your apartment?" "This is New York, isn't it?" "Whatever," Rusty mumbled. "And your answer is?" "Yeah, yeah. I'll see what I can do." Justin turned around and made his way out of Rusty's dungeon, as he called the basement apartment, and climbed the long flights up to his fifth story apartment. When he first saw the ad for the empty space he jumped at it, thinking it would be perfect for him. The lighting was great and being on the top floor only meant not dealing with upstairs neighbors and shuffling feet. He didn't take into consideration the fact that there was no elevator in the building and that most movers would charge him double to lug all his furniture up the five flights of stairs. And the fact that heat rises, so it was a hot box in the summer and he could only imagine what it would be like in the winter; probably colder than Joan Kinney's black heart. And the grime was something he continued to ignore. He ignored it because finding the perfect apartment was his priority. It was his priority because it was the only reason he was here. The only reason he had called off a wedding to the love of his life, the opportunity of a lifetime, the most significant person he had been with for the last seven years. So he had to make this his priority, and prove to himself, and to others, that giving up everything was worth it. He'd been in New York for three weeks now and the single most exciting thing that had happened so far was discovering the Thai restaurant five blocks away. How could he have been so stupid? Lindsay be damned! There was no one waiting for him in this city. People were not banging down his door to beg him to hang a painting in their gallery or star in a show. After the article came out in the Art Forum, the buzz had died down, and now all he had to show for the monumental decisions he'd made was a loft apartment in the bowels of the Tribeca area; a hot and unsecured apartment, with an idiot for a handy man and some very rough neighbors that he had yet to meet. One neighbor in particular, a Latino, with greasy hair and smoldering eyes seemed more than interested in meeting him. Justin felt like his clothes were being peeled off his body piece by piece whenever he walked by. The guy had the kind of body that qualified him as a poster child for a steroid ad and probably the kind of mindset that went with it. He'd been eyeing Justin ever since he'd moved in, but had yet to introduce himself or make any kind of gesture, which was just as well, because Justin had no interest in hooking up with him or anyone else for that matter. His heart was still in Pittsburgh and there it would stay. But the constant vigilance was disturbing, to say the least, and the sooner he could lock his door, the better he would feel. He was tired of having to look over his shoulder constantly, even though the guy had never made any sort of move. His years of dealing with Hobbs had taught him to always be aware and never take anything for granted. He kept hearing Brian's voice in the background, admonishing him to be careful and never let his guard down. It was a horrible feeling but one he acknowledged to be a necessity, especially in a town where the crime rate was off the charts and the only person he knew was his agent, who was pretty much useless, in more ways than one. So today might be his lucky day, if Rusty got his head out of his ass and finally fixed the lock. Then he could stop worrying and concentrate on his painting. He'd just passed the fourth floor when he stopped short, running into the neighbor in question. He'd been standing outside the door of his apartment, almost waiting for Justin to walk by. "Hey," Justin said, unable to avoid the greeting. "Hey blue-eyes. How's it going?" "Good," Justin replied, trying to move up the last flight of stairs, but unable to get past the body that was blocking his way. "What's the rush?" His dark eyes looked down at the startling blue orbs that looked at him questioningly. He was a good head taller than Justin, which was a normal thing. Almost everyone was a head taller than him. "No rush, just trying to get back into my apartment." "You want to join me for a beer?" "No thanks. I've got stuff to do." "Alone?" Justin looked up at the guy who was now coming a little too close, invading his space without so much as a sign from him. "Yes, alone, not that it’s any business of yours." "By choice or by circumstance?" the guy asked, either too stupid to realize he was being dismissed or too stubborn to hear. "By choice," Justin replied, turning on his most bitchy voice. "Always, by choice." "Are you saving yourself for your wedding day, pretty boy?" Steven-steroid asked. "Fuck off," Justin said, throwing caution to the wind. He was tired of this game and wanted to get away. "Hey," the guy replied, moving closer, now standing almost one foot away, his face far too close for comfort. "I'm only trying to be neighborly. You're not being very nice." "I don't want to be nice. I don't know you, you're not my friend, I just want to get up the stairs and get in my apartment," Justin spat out, moving his body, trying to get by the six foot frame that was blocking him. "My name is Paolo. There, now you know me and we can be friends." Rolling his eyes, Justin said, "I’m Justin Taylor. Step aside and let me get up the stairs." "Okay Justin. I'll let you go for now. But eventually you’re going to have be more sociable," Paolo said, turning on what Justin could only assume was his bedroom voice. "Fine," Justin replied, just wanting this meeting to be over and done with. "Now, would you please let me get through?" "Okay, blue-eyes." Justin glared at him and squeezed through the slight opening that Paolo had made for him. He took the stairs two at a time and breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he opened the door to his place. He slammed it and leaned against the hard wood, listening to his heart beating unreasonably faster, willing himself to calm down. What the hell is wrong with me? The guy didn't even do anything and I'm acting like some stupid 'nelly queen'. The next morning, Justin bumped in to him again. This time Paolo actually laid a hand on him, holding onto his arm as Justin tried to get by. "Do you want to come over tonight for a beer?" he asked, his breath hot and too close for Justin's comfort. "No. I think I've already told you that I’m not interested." "You'll change your mind blue-eyes. No one says no to Paolo." Justin looked at him and for one minute was tempted to read him the riot act and call him a delusional ass, but then his good sense kicked in and he made nice. "Well, I might just be the first one," Justin replied in a normal tone of voice. "Oh, I don't think so. I've had blue-eyed blonds before, although I must admit, you're by far the best looking one I've ever seen." "I didn't mean I'd be your first blond, you idiot! I meant I'd be the first one who's ever turned you down." "That would not be a good idea," Paolo said, his warm eyes suddenly turning cold and dangerous. "And why not?" Justin asked, looking up at Paolo, not backing off for one minute. "It just isn't," Paolo replied. "Well, deal with it big guy, you've just been rejected." Justin stepped around the hulking body and made his way down the stairs and out the front door. His heart was beating a million miles a minute. He couldn't believe he’d just done that. How fucking stupid was he? The last time he'd done something like that was with Hobbs outside of Babylon and he remembered how Brian had said that he'd made a true enemy. Justin didn't believe him at that time but somehow, this time, he knew that he'd gone too far, even without Brian at his side to be his conscience. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut, he just couldn't help himself. He didn't have time to be stalked and watched and messed with. This was not part of his grand scheme. He just wanted to get his art out the door and on the walls of galleries so that he could go home. Home to the man he loved. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ December 2006 Brian sat up, listening to the front door slam. He looked up and saw that Justin had come in from the shed outside where they stored the firewood, his arms laden with as much wood as he could carry at one time. His cheeks were flushed from the cold and there were snowflakes on his hair, even one on the tip of his nose, making him look endearing and sweet, like a little boy, instead of a twenty-five year old man. "Why did you go out there without a coat?" "I didn't think I'd be out that long. I didn't realize it was snowing and I'd forgotten how far the woodshed is," Justin answered, dropping the logs in the big wooden bin beside the fireplace, rubbing his hands together and sticking them as close to the fire as possible without burning them. He shivered uncontrollably, now rubbing his hands up and down his arms in an attempt to warm himself. Brian came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, whispering softly in his ear. "I can warm you up in no time. Turn around Sunshine." Justin turned and he felt Brian's warm breath on him. His soft beard, a new addition to an otherwise familiar face, tickled him, arousing him at the same time. He inhaled Brian's special scent, closing his eyes and reveling in the fact that he was home and this was not a fantasy anymore. This man was real and he was in his arms, his heart swelling with a love that spilled over, warming them both, as he responded to the persistent tongue that was now licking at his cold lips, trying to warm them. Justin opened his mouth to take him in, needed to feel the invasion, wanting Brian's tongue on his, moaning as his body let go of the cold, drawing in the heat emanating from Brian, feeling it sweep through him, heating his blood as it pounded through his veins, burning him as his groin stirred and came to life. "Fuck me Brian, in front of the fire." "Okay," Brian replied, pulling clothes off without missing a beat. "Warm me from the inside out," Justin replied. "I can do that," Brian answered. "Raw." "What?" "You heard me." "But, our separation...it’s only been ten days." "I'm clean. I had myself tested before I came home. You?" "There's been no one Justin...Since you left...The only one who's touched my dick has been me." "Then do it Brian. I want a white Christmas. I want your come everywhere. In and out of my body, I want you to cover me in it; I want you to lick it off my chest. I need to be blanketed in white. White, hot spunk, on every surface of my skin. I want you to explode in me, Brian. Wet me from head to toe, I want this so badly," Justin said breathlessly, pressing his hard, eager body into Brian. "Fuck me now," he demanded, pulling Brian down on the floor with him, onto the white sheepskin carpet that they had purchased just the other day. "Jesus Christ, Justin," Brian whispered, his voice coming out hoarse and strangled with desire. He had almost shot his load just listening to Justin's erotic plea. "Do it," Justin said, lying underneath him, pressing his rigid penis against Brian's cock, humping him slowly, taking his time but moving steadily towards his goal, knowing that Brian was powerless to resist. They latched on to each other, drawn together like liquid in a centrifuge, spiraling down towards the hole that would sweep them out into places they'd never been. Places that had waited seven long years, despite all the external forces that had tried to prevent this. But no outside force could prevent this reunion. This was a coupling that had been years in the making, a work in progress that had finally come to fruition. They had been through the worst of times. Through sickness and pain, through separation and anxiety, through circumstances beyond their control and situations they had put themselves in. Their bodies knew better. These two belonged together as much as anything in nature did. Even as the sea needed the moon to regulate its tides, Justin needed Brian to help him survive. To live and breathe and paint and exist in a world that was empty without him. And as much as Brian had resisted, Justin was indeed the sunshine of his life, the only thing that made any sense. His presence made him thrive just as a real garden would in the sunlight, needing the heat to bring the honey back into a life that had become a colorless, tasteless place since he had walked out of the loft doors and moved to New York. They belonged together, like martinis and olives, Madonna and vogue. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ New York-Five months ago Paolo grabbed Justin's shirt and pulled him hard up against his body, his massive chest moving up and down as he tried to control the anger that was sweeping through him after Justin had brushed him off again. "Let go of me, Paolo. What don't you understand about the word, No," Justin said, his breath coming out in quick, short pants as he tried to pull away from arms that felt like bands of steel that were wrapped around his body. "I don't like being turned down," Paolo said, his ashtray breath making Justin nauseous. Justin pushed at him, drawing strength from the knowledge that he was alone outside his apartment door and no one would hear his cry for help if he succumbed to this brute’s overtures. He'd been avoiding this confrontation for weeks now, by-passing him every morning and evening, barely acknowledging his presence yet unable to impress on Paolo that he was not in the least bit interested. Justin wasn't really concerned for his safety. He didn't feel the kind of anger and pain he'd felt spilling out of Chris Hobbs. Paolo just wanted to get laid and wanted him, probably because he had said no, which made it all the more exciting. Paolo grabbed Justin's hand and pressed it against a dick that was rock hard and straining against his faded blue jeans. "You feel that blue-eyes? That's all for you. It needs to be up your ass, fucking you till you scream for mercy." "I don't give a damn about you or your pencil dick," Justin spat out, trying to escape once more but unable to break away. Paolo looked at him in shock. He couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of Justin’s mouth. “Why, you fucking little twerp! How dare you say I have a pencil dick," Paolo hissed out as he yanked down his zipper, pulling out his engorged penis, daring Justin to call his impressive girth a pencil again. "Whatever Paolo, so I was wrong. Sorry! Your dick is not a pencil, more like the fucking tree that made it, but I don't want it," Justin said, wiggling in Paolo's arms, trying to get free. "I'll make you want it, blue-eyes," Paolo said, grabbing Justin by the hair and pushing him down on his knees, moving his face towards his bobbing penis. Justin took it in his mouth and clamped down with his teeth, not hard enough to cause any permanent damage but certainly hard enough to elicit a loud howling, as Paolo shoved him roughly away. "Fucker," he said. "Is this the way you want to play it then?" Justin glared at him, his cheeks red with anger, tears overflowing from sheer rage. "I'm not the one who asked for this, Paolo. Don't make this about me. You're the one that wouldn't take no for an answer." Paolo stared at the minute blond in front of him. He was a little guy but he had the heart of a lion and the balls to match. He grudgingly gave him that much, realizing how stupid this all was, and what an ass he was for forcing himself upon someone who was clearly not interested. He looked down at his dick, checking for any signs of permanent damage or broken skin. When he saw that all was good, he put it back in his pants and slowly pulled up his zipper. He did everything in slow motion, hoping that the time would allow Justin to calm down and be reasonable. "Look, blue-eyes," Paolo said, only to be interrupted by an angry Justin telling him, "Don't call me that. I'm not your blue-eyes. I am nothing to you except your neighbor." "You're right, Justin, I'm sorry. I got carried away...should have backed off a long time ago." "Damn right," Justin said, incredulous that he'd won. "Look blue, I mean, Justin, lets start over, okay? Pretend this never happened. I'm really not the big asshole you think I am." "Okay," Justin said, relieved beyond words. He'd won. For the first time in his adult life, he'd solved a problem on his own, without calling Brian, the cops, his mother, Lindsay, Debbie, Captain fucking Astro or anyone else. He'd done it! And if he could do this, he could do anything. There was no limit to what he could accomplish given the right opportunity. He took the stairs two at a time and made his way into his apartment. He picked up the phone and dialed his agent’s number. As soon as he answered, he fired him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ December 2006 "Fuck me...harder Brian...make me see stars," Justin begged, his face flushed from the heat radiating from the fireplace. His lips were red and swollen from being chewed and sucked on. His hair was wet and clung to him, more from the melting snowdrops than anything else, but Brian pushed it off his forehead, kissing his brow lovingly, closing his eyes as his lips felt the smoothness that only belonged to one face. "I love you, Sunshine...more than you'll ever know." "Prove it to me...show me you trust me...come in me...wet me Brian, please," Justin begged, needing this final show of faith to know they were really and truly a couple, committed, attached, together because they wanted to be, not because they had to be. Together, despite all the circumstances that had kept them apart "Are you sure?" "God yes," Justin replied, as he moved to place his legs on Brian's shoulders, lifting his ass and pulling himself forward, impaling himself on Brian's leaking cock, feeling Brian jam into his prostate, leaving him weak and almost paralyzed with the pleasure. "Fuck," Brian cried out, his brain on complete overload at the enormity of what he was about to do. He felt Justin pulling him impossibly close, grinding his hips against him, panting with the excursions of this last maneuver. Brian pulled out for a minute, needing the respite to prolong this a little further, feeling himself much too close to exploding. "Don't," Justin cried out. "Just for a minute...I want to stretch this out as long as I can," Brian huffed, trying to pull away, even as Justin reached out to pull him back. He watched as Justin touched himself, caressing his balls, moving his hand towards his own cock which was slick with the drops of precum that were coating it. "Let me," Brian begged, bending down to take Justin's rigid cock in his mouth, deep throating him as far as possible, alternately sucking and swallowing, causing Justin to buck and shudder, crying out when he came, in long, hot spurts of thick come that flowed down Brian's throat. "God...Brian, don't stop...fuck...love me....love you..." Brian pulled his head up, listening to the words pouring out of Justin as he climaxed. His mouth was still wet from come that had overflowed down his chin, and he moved up to kiss Justin who licked it off and then kissed him back, tasting himself, moaning as Brian rammed his cock into Justin’s quivering hole, hearing him gasp as Brian plunged in as deep as possible, hitting his prostate, over and over, groaning 'Justin' , hearing 'Brian' repeated in time with each thrust as Justin's body moved back and forth , like a well-oiled piston, in sync with Brian's every move until finally, he felt himself shoot, hot and powerful, huffing out Justin's name, even as he heard Justin sobbing with the emotion of the moment. They held each other, both overcome, their cries heard over their deep breathes, wracking their bodies as they sought to regain control over a totally out-of-control moment. Justin reveled in the wetness, feeling Brian's come leaking out of him in warm dribbles, out his ass, down his balls. He moved his hand down and touched himself, feeling the liquid, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to suck on them, all the while staring at Brian, who would have come again, just seeing Justin licking his fingers like he would a lollipop, loving the taste, electric blue eyes shooting bolts of electricity straight to Brian's groin, causing his dick to resurrect, impossibly soon, but coming back to life nonetheless.. "Jesus Christ...don't do this...I've nothing left to give..." Justin grabbed him and wrapped his legs around his waist, moving against him in slow, undulating motions, whispering "I love you" gently, crooning into his ear, like a parent to a child, reassuring Brian that all was okay, and that he was loved. Brian's tears overflowed down already wet cheeks, as he listened to Justin proclaim his love; a love that had withstood every test that time and man had presented them with, and he was humbled and grateful that he had been at the right place, on the right night, when the beautiful, blue-eyed twink had locked eyes with him from across the street, daring him to take the chance and love him. This boy, who had become a bigger man than anyone twice his size could ever be, had rocked his world and had moved every part in it, leaving his mark, never giving up on Brian, and never letting Brian give up on him. Justin rolled over and reached out for the small, white box under the tree. The one with the white ribbon tied around it. "Open it Brian." "I thought we weren't doing presents. You promised." "I lied," Justin said, smiling at Brian, wiping away the tears that still covered his face. "Besides, you just gave me yours." Brian looked at him and shook his head, the lip biting grin coming to fore as he tore off the white ribbon and slowly lifted the box. Inside was another smaller box, red, with gold letters that spelled Cartier on top. Brian looked up quickly and saw that Justin had started to cry again, his tears flowing down his cheeks, so he moved his hand up to wipe away the tears and then he kissed Justin on the mouth. "Please, don't cry. I can't stand to see you like this," he whispered. "I'm not sad, Brian. I'm crying because I never thought this would happen, even though it’s been a recurring dream since I was seventeen years old." Inside the box were two gold rings. Not the same rings that Brian had bought for their first attempt at marriage. These rings were different ones, made out of three different shades of gold; yellow, rose and white. Each one had three separate circles that were linked, one within the other but could not be taken apart. "I never returned the other rings," Brian said. "I know, but I wanted these instead." "Why?" "They’re formed like we are, distinct personalities within one body; together, yet separate. Each one unique and able to stand on its own, however, more beautiful when joined, as they were designed to be." "Like you and me?" "Yes, like us; Merry Christmas, Brian. I'm finally home," Justin said, staring at Brian with eyes that could drown anyone in their blue depths. Brian took note of the way Justin’s pink lips quivered as he spoke; loving the way he made him feel with that adoring look that always knocked him on his ass. "You really are my prince," Brian whispered, pulling Justin tightly against his body, holding him impossibly close. "I’ve waited a long time for this.” "I know,” Justin whispered back. “Thank you for waiting, for believing in me. Even though I know that I can survive and make it on my own, I've realized that I really don't want to. Nothing means anything without you beside me. Justin sat up and pulled the larger of the two rings out of the box and slipped it on Brian’s finger. "I, Justin Taylor,” he recited, “Take you, Brian Kinney, to be my life partner. In sickness and in health; I commit my life to making you happy, to bringing you peace and joy, to wiping away the worry lines that appear between your brows, to always respect you as an individual. I know that you are unique and can only exist in this relationship by being true to yourself, and as a result of that, being true to me. You are my life Brian, as I am yours. I love you more tonight than I’ve ever loved you in the past." Brian's eyes had turned greener, shimmering with the tears that appeared automatically, as soon as he heard Justin's commitment speech. He took a deep breath and pulled the smaller ring out of the box. He held Justin's left hand, and slipped the ring on him, as he began to speak. "I, Brian Kinney, the same man that stood in front of your face seven years ago and said he didn't believe in love, now believe. I believe that you will always be here for me, that our love will overcome any kind of shit life will put in our path. I want you to know that I will love, protect and respect you in every way that I can for the rest of our lives. I also want you to know that you have turned me into the biggest God damn lesbian this side of Pittsburgh and if you dare to tell anyone about tonight, I will call you a liar." Justin laughed and embraced Brian, kissing away the tears that finally overflowed the hazel eyes and poured down Brian's cheeks. "God I love you...even when you are an irreverent ass and try and turn our wedding night into a fucking comedy," Justin said, rubbing his forehead against Brian's. "Is that what this is? Well, I love you too, you little twat," Brian huffed out. "Don’t call me a twat." “Okay I won’t. I love you too, my little shit.” “That’s better,” Justin replied. He put his hands on Brian’s shoulders and pushed him back down on the rug, brushing his hair away from his face and nuzzling him, kissing his face in slow, languorous movements. “Brian?” “Ummm?” Brian replied, heady from the loving he was receiving. “Do you want me to give you your own white Christmas?” Justin asked, his voice turning husky, as he slowly pushed Brian over on his side and then stopped when Brian lay face down. Justin had one leg draped over him and he rubbed his hand up and down Brian’s back, slowly moving it down until it rested on Brian’s ass. “Umfff,” Brian replied in a husky growl. “You mean, I do, don’t you?” Justin whispered in his ear, moving his hand lower, now closer to Brian’s balls, brushing at them lightly, and then moving lower as he slid his hand under Brian’s stomach, now touching his slowing awakening cock. “I do,” Justin heard Brian’s barely audible whisper. “I mean, do it… now…” “I didn’t get that,” Justin said, moving his mouth down the small of Brian’s back, licking every bump and groove, loving it when he felt Brian lifting himself to give him better access. “Justin...” “Say it, Brian...” “Fuck me…” The beginning.....