Justin’s POV Twelve Days Later “Omigod! Hey Sweetie!” I turned at the sound of the familiar voice and saw Emmett’s cheerful boyish grin making its way along the bar towards me. I grinned back at him, and returned the exuberant embrace he bestowed on me when he came within arm’s reach. “I haven’t seen you in here since you got back!” Emmett exclaimed, putting his mouth close to my ear so I could hear him above the din of Babylon’s pounding dance music. “Is this humble abode too tame for your sophisticated New York tastes?” “Are you kidding?” I replied with a good natured smile. “Haven’t you read the latest reviews? Babylon was rated, like, the hottest gay nightclub in the Northern Hemisphere, as Brian never fails to point out. I’d have come out before, but I’ve been busy with the new job and…stuff.” “And how is the new job?” Emmett prompted, tactfully avoiding the more delicate topic of ‘stuff’. “Teddy tells me you’re the best thing to ever happen to Kinnetic’s art department. He says you get through four projects in the time it takes the others to get through one.” He smirked, “Is that because the boss is riding you hard?” “It’s usually me riding him,” I replied with a wry smile. “Except I hardly ever see him at Kinnetic. I’d no idea he works so hard- he never has a free second.” “Ah, the burden of success,” Emmett sighed dramatically. “So where is His Majesty?” “Probably in the VIP lounge,” I answered with a shrug. “I’d go and see for myself if the place didn’t operate like a sexual free-for-all; as soon as you cross the threshold you become just another part of the smorgasbord. It makes you feel kind of inadequate, too, because everyone in there looks like Brad Pitt and acts like Zach O’Toole. No wonder guys practically grovel at Brian’s feet for a VIP pass.” “Baby, it’s every gay boy’s dream to get in there!” Emmett sighed, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “So what’s the BF planned to dissuade you from entering such a divine homo heaven?” “I’m not sure,” I confessed. “When I got back from work today, there was this note from Brian telling me he wouldn’t be home, but to meet him at Babylon and to pack for the weekend.” “Ohh! How romantic!” Emmett squealed, “May be he’s whisking you away to somewhere exotic! May be he’s taking you to the Gold Coast- you know he never got Down Under last year.” “For the weekend? Em, do you have any idea how far Australia is?” I replied with a laugh. “Given that today is Friday and we both have to be back in the city by Monday, I think we can safely strike Oz off the list.” I didn’t tell Emmett I thought it was far more likely Brian was about to take me back to New York for some sinister administrative or morale-boasting purpose. I wasn’t entirely sure I liked the idea, but curiosity alone had been enough to make me follow his instructions without question. “Then may be he’s taking you to Puerto Vallarta…or even Rio!” Emmett guessed. “Hey, if you’re going to Buenos Aires, I can teach you the Tango; I learnt it the other day from this really hot Argentinean. He only spoke Spanish, but he had the most divine lingistical skills none the less.” Just then, Amy Winehouse’s ‘Rehab’ began to pound through the sound system and Em gave an excited ‘I love this song!’ and hauled me out onto the dance floor. As I allowed my body to move with the music, I felt the stress and anxiety that had hung over my head in a persistent cloud for the last two weeks ebb and recede slightly. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the throbbing beat and to the lyrics ‘no, no, no’.... “Mind if I borrow your date?” a familiar voice asked, “Or rather, mind if I have mine back?” I opened my eyes at the sound of his voice, which came from somewhere in the general vicinity behind me. Emmett grinned and reached out to put his hands on my shoulders, turned me to face Brian, and wrapped his arms possessively around my chest. “I’m not ready to return him yet,” Emmett declared. “You’ll just have to find another sweet young thing tonight.” “Well, in that case,” Brian replied, flicking the stiff piece of card he held in his fingers so Em and I could see it was a VIP lounge pass, “I’ll just have to find someone else to give this to…” “On second thought,” Emmett mused hastily, letting me go and taking the VIP pass from Brian, “variety is the spice of life. And God knows I love a smogosbord.” Emmett leaned over and kissed my cheek, ignoring Brian’s puzzled look. “Bye, Honey. Bon Voyage.” With a final royal wave, Em turned and disappeared into the throngs of people, heading in the direction of the metal stairs that would bring him up to the VIP lounge. Brian watched him go, then turned and put his arms around me, drawing me towards him. He dipped his head and gave me a kiss on the mouth which I returned a little hesitantly, not really sure what to expect. “You OK?” Brian asked, peering into my face and evidently seeing something in my features that Emmett had missed. “You look really fucking tired.” “I’m fine,” I told him with a smile, even though I did feel totally exhausted after the long productive, but trying week. “I brought my stuff for the weekend, like you said. Where’re we going?” Brian didn’t answer right away, but took my hand and led me through the colourful, vibrating crowds of people towards the exit. After collecting our jackets and my backpack, he took my hand again and led me out of the club and into the cool night. We were almost at the ’Vette before I tugged insistently on Brian’s hand, reminding him that he still hadn’t offered an explanation to my inquiry. “We’re going home, Sunshine,” he said simply. His answer to my question only served to heighten my confusion; ‘home’ could mean the loft, or New York, or some kind of metaphorical sanctuary we had in each other. I felt the foreboding coil inside me like a loosely wound spring, but I pointedly ignored it. I trusted Brian. I knew that if home was truly where the heart is, I would find mine wherever Brian was. ~~~ Brian’s POV Justin was asleep when we reached the outskirts of Pittsburgh. I watched his sleeping face out of the corner of my eye as we began to pass through darkened fields enclosed by barbed wire fences, their green promise of spring awakening hidden by the shroud of darkness, here unblemished by the city lights. He stirred in his sleep, his fingers subconsciously tugging at the chest strap of his seatbelt, which was cutting into the side of his neck. I reached over and pulled it away and felt Justin’s fingers curl automatically around mine when I brushed his hand. The gesture moved me and strengthened my resolve. I tried again to tell myself that this was right. That this sudden exposure of glossed over truths and things I ought to have told him was right. For better or worse. The route was familiar by now, and even in the dark, I found my way without any wrong turns or missed junctions. As the smooth asphalt gave way onto rough gravel, I slowed the ‘Vette to a crawl as we approached our destination. I put the car into park, cut the headlights, and turned off the ignition. And then I sat there in the silence and the darkness, feeling the chill of the night begin to infuse its way into the car through every unperceivable gap. The silence roared in my ears, and his sudden words seemed to cut through it with difficulty. “Brian, no.” Justin was awake, as I suspected he’d been for some time. I turned to look at his face, a pale oval in which I could only make out the hollows of his eyes and the curve of his mouth. He was shaking his head, looking out of the windshield, and then turning back to me with an expression I couldn’t see, let alone read. “Justin, yes.” I replied softly, with no hint humour in my voice. “You said you sold it.” His voice was harsh and accusing. “Brian, you told me you sold it last June. You said you couldn’t afford to keep it, and so you put it on the market and it sold within two weeks. You told me that.” “I said I found a buyer,” I corrected gently. “But I took it off the market before the sale went anywhere. Babylon was starting to churn up several times what I’d anticipated, and Kinnetic scored a couple huge accounts in the spring, so I had the money to keep it…” Justin turned away from me, his face hidden in shadows, and made a soft noise of despair. Distressed, I reached across to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. When he didn’t shrug me off or pull away, I moved my hand upward until my fingers were resting feather-light against the nape of his neck. “Justin, I fell in love with it,” I explained, trying hard to keep the pleading out of my voice. “I wanted it fixed up before I sold it, and when the renovations were finished it was so beautiful, so alive and unique. Like you. I could picture you in every room, I could feel you in every nook and cranny. It seemed wrong that anyone but you and I should live in it.” Justin turned to me, and now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I could see he was wearing an expression of intense inner turmoil, uncertainty and distress and a terrible desperate hope. I put my hand to his face and touched his cheek, his temple, the line of his jaw. “For the first time in my life,” I continued softly, “I thought I wouldn’t mind growing old here with you. I so deeply, desperately wanted us to have this. And so I kept it…just in case dreams could come true.” It was a long time later that we finally climbed out of the ‘Vette and walked, with our arms wrapped tightly around each other, up the gravel path to the red ochre frount door. As I slid the key into the lock and felt the lock’s pins click mechanically into place, I felt pieces of my world falling into place with it. Britin was ours once again. ~~~ Justin’s POV The Next Morning It was the dazzling light of the morning sun that woke me, as it came streaming in through the large uncurtained windows, cutting a path across the soft fawn carpet and coming lie across the bed and across our bodies. Its brilliance made me squint, but I relished the comforting warmth the light brought with it. Behind me, Brian’s body shifted slightly, but I knew from his limp arm draped around my waist, and his steady, rhythmic breathing against the skin of my neck, the he was still asleep. I was acutely awake of his flaccid cock resting between my cheeks and against the inside of my thigh. The last thing I remembered of the night before was begging Brian not to pull out, to stay inside me until I was asleep. I nestled back against his warm body, and watched as the shadows in the room shortened and pirouetted around their objects with the steadily rising sun. I tried hard to reason out my situation; to deduce if being here was what I wanted, or even if it was even a good idea. But in the end I gave up, because I knew any decisions I made now would be biased by the magic of Britin, and by the closeness and warmth of Brian’s body. After about an hour, I felt him stir and begin to wake up. I extradited myself from his loose embrace and rolled over to face him. I pushed him gently onto his back and draped myself across his upper body, laying my head against his chest to hear and feel the steady beating of his heart. “Morning, Sunshine,” he sighed sleepily, stretching and running a hand up the centre of my back before tangling his fingers in my tousled hair. He raised his head and squinted into the sunlight, “Should’ve got curtains for this room.” “I like it,” I told him without looking up, running my finger softly along the dip of his sternum. “It’s so…natural, I guess. It’s not like there are any city lights to block out.” “And no curious neighbours looking in to watch the rumpy-pumpy.” Brian replied with a hint of laughter in his voice. He made a sweeping gesture with his arm to indicate the general vicinity around us. “So, do you like it? I guess you didn’t see much of it in the dark last night.” “I saw a lot of the ceiling,” I told him with a smirk, “and quite a bit of the headboard, too.” “Well, we wanted to give it a proper christening, didn’t we?” he replied, tongue in cheek. He twirled my hair absently around his fingers. “But really, do you like it? The room?” Brian had obviously designed the Master Bedroom himself; I could recognize hints of the loft in the leather furniture, the state-of-the-art lighting, and the collection of sophisticated ornaments that adorned shelves and the mantel over what had once been a fireplace. It was a very masculine room; a very Brian room. “I love it, it’s perfect,” I assured him, but there was enough uncertainty in my voice that Brian picked up on it. He rolled onto his side, pushing me onto my back as he did so, and looked searchingly into my face. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Nothing,” I insisted, “I love it! The house is incredible, it’s fantastic. It’s like my wildest country manor house dream come true. It’s just…I’m not sure if I’m ready to commit to this; to living here with you. It just seems so final. What happens if I get offered another job in New York? What if I’m offered a place in a gallery somewhere else? It’ll be our wedding all over again, Brian.” “No it won’t,” Brian replied softly. “Letting go of each other was so hard the first time because we didn’t know what would happen. But now we know that separation is not the be- all-to-end-all we thought it was, it’ll be much easier if and when we have to do it again.” Brian took my hands in his and looked at me with a look of such purposeful intensity that I could almost feel it vibrating in the space between us. “Justin, this is our chance to have this; to have everything we’ve ever wanted. And regardless of whether it lasts a year or a lifetime, it’ll be worth it. If we don’t do this now, we may never get another chance.” I knew he was right. Life was too short for anything but love. ~~~ That Night “Stop. Wait…just a second.” I froze and waited for Brian to adjust for the third time, carefully watching as the lines of discomfort faded from his face. His breathing was coming in short, sharp exhalations and in the flickering light of the living room fire, I could see silver rivulets of sweat gleaming on his skin. I felt a stab of guilt knowing that in my excitement, I hadn’t prepared him as well as I probably should have. And since Brian only ever bottomed for me, I knew it had been at least six months since he’d last done it. I stroked the tops of Brian’s thighs soothingly, careful not the shift the position of his legs against my shoulders until he was ready. After a time, I felt the rings of muscle relax around my cock, and I pushed forward a little further, this time just making contact with Brian’s prostate. “Shhhhit,” Brian hissed, curling his body towards me involuntarily so that one of his legs slid from my shoulders. “Stay down,” I grunted, emphasizing the words by pressing my hands firmly against his chest and giving his prostate another sharp stab. “Let me do it.” I think we were both glad that Brian had abandoned the idea of adorning the living room with Persian rugs, in favour of having a single, thick hearth rug. Granted the thing did look as if it was made of Snuffalophagus pelt, but for our purposes it was perfect. There was something ridiculously romantic about making love on the floor in front of a crackling fire. When I began to give long, slow thrusts, Brian made a frustrated sound and curled forwards again, reaching around my body and grabbing my ass to pull me deeper inside him. I grunted at the sudden unexpected movement and sensation, but quickly regained my composure and slapped his hands away hard. “You can’t…top if you’re…on the bottom,” I admonished between gasps, beginning to increase in speed. My fingers closed around Brian’s cock and I stroked it in rhythm with my thrusts. Brian writhed and moaned, his hands scrabbling for purchase in the shaggy material of the rug. When I felt myself coming close, I lurched forward to hover over Brian’s body, lacing my hands with his and pinning them beside his head, balancing on the balls of my feet in the push-up position. Brian’s legs were too long to wrap around my waist so he held them suspended in the air, his knees pressed hard against my ribcage as I moved forwards in short, sharp thrusts. “Fuck…ohh god…” he moaned each time I moved. Our height difference meant I couldn’t quite reach his face, so I leaned down and laid hot, sloppy kissed on his collarbone and along the rough skin of his neck. He freed one of his hands and tangled it in my hair, pulling hard at the stands and sending delicious zaps of tingling pain down my spine. Brian suddenly froze and threw his head back, his jaw clenched, his eyes screwed shut, and the hand still in my grasp tightening almost painfully around my fingers. I felt the hot splash of his cum between us and the waves of constricting muscles around my cock. And then I was cumming too, deep inside him, relishing the feeling of supremacy and possessiveness the sensations elicited. Afterwards, we lay naked together on the hearth rug and watched the fire change from low flame to glowing embers. I was reminded of that other fire, and remembered what Brian had said about ‘never getting another chance’. I wondered now if the fire that had destroyed my life in New York hadn’t been some kind of purging; a cleansing by flame orchestrated by fate. A resetting of the clock. Was I being given a second chance? “You look very pensive,” Brian commented softly, rolling onto his side and brushing my shoulder with his fingertips. “What’re you thinking about?” “Nothing,” I replied, smiling back at him. When Brian looked incredulous, I gave a soft laugh and added, “My Wonderful Life’.