Brian's POV I forced an artificial calm over myself as I was driving. I could not afford to get pulled over by some over eager cop, and so I maintained a reasonable relationship with the speed limit and I only ran two stop lights on my way. I planned to drive by the apartment and if the cops were there continue on to the diner; if they were not I would park and go in as I normally did, find the body and call the police. There would be nothing odd about the situation. Nothing odd If I fucking ignored the fact that it was only 4:30 and I never saw my front door until at least six and usually much later. I recited my excuse for being there so early, using my headache as the reason. I did not want Justin pulled into this, he had enough on his plate already. I could almost see the glee in some homophobic pricks eyes if they got wind of him. What would a fucking murder matter to them compared to the joy of catching a gay pedophile? Shit, away I would fucking go. My headache was getting worse just thinking about it. That was my true concern of course. Justin was not my problem and he was cocky enough to handle anything that came his way, but neither of us could undo the fact that more than once I had been ten inches deep in his under-aged ass. I had to look out for myself, I could be sure that no one else fucking was. It seemed to take forever and yet far too soon I was driving past my still and silent apartment building. My reaction was mixed. I needed to go in there and make sure that Justin hadn't left any evidence that he had been there first. I did not relish the idea of going to visit the fucking dead guy. The blond one…goddamn why did that haunt me so badly? Nothing had happened to Justin. A little trauma over finding a body was not something a person would never fucking recover from. I understood that so what I didn't understand was why my palms were sweating as I approached the door that I had entered hundreds of times before. The foyer was locked and I punched in the code on the pad next to the door. I could see the shadow of legs sticking out from beside the stairs, near where the elevator was located and my gut clenched; but I was determined that anyone looking on would not see anything odd so I made no attempt to see more before I pulled the door open and went in. The smell hit me first and I choked. Justin hadn't mentioned the smell, it was not overpowering yet but that it carried the story of death was unmistakable. I forced my feet to move, one foot and then the other. I didn't know what fucking idiot had managed to get himself killed and dumped in my building but I was fucking pissed off about the whole thing. I stepped past the stairs to where I could see down the short hall to the elevator. The air sucked out of my lungs and I gasped nearly dropping to my knees. I felt as if someone had sucker punched me in the gut. My mind screamed at me that it wasn't Justin. I had just fucking talked to him on the phone and this was not him; but I couldn't breathe. Goddamn it, it's not Justin I screamed at myself. And then proceeded to heave up my fucking guts. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand in disgust; even the twink had managed not to disgrace himself so fucking badly. I forced myself to move closer. Pale bare legs, long fingered artistic hands, a shock of blond hair…not Justin's…not. I reached out and touched his shoulder, maybe if I could see his fucking face it would help. He was cold under my touch and the feel of his skin made mine crawl. Justin had been right there was no blood, not so odd considering the crime had been committed someplace else. I was easing back in to my rational mind and starting to put this fucking issue into it's proper prospective. I had seen no sign that Justin had been here and I would call the goddamned cops and he would be gone, a foot note in my fucked up life. Just a dead guy in the foyer, it happened all over the city and there was nothing to fucking freak out over and then my hand shifted his body and his head fell off. "Jesus fucking Christ!" I yelled and backed away so fast that I nearly tripped and fell into my own vomit. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." The air was filled with the cloying sickly sweet scent of death and two filmy blue eyes started at me from where the head had fallen face up on to the carpeting with a soft thump. It wasn't Justin. The face was too old. The hair dyed blond. Dark stubble darkened the jaw line. Fuck me I knew it wasn't Justin. I had known all along. But what if I hadn't fucking known? What if I had walked into this not knowing he was safely at the diner with Deb. I shook my head trying to clear my fucking thoughts. Goddamn what fucking difference did it make? I stared at the face on the floor and my stomach lurched again. I knew him. I had fucked him a few weeks ago, in the backroom. "What was your name?" I whispered into the dead air. I didn't know. I never bothered to remember a trick's name. Only when they turned stalker did such things matter or when they were laying fucking headless at my feet. Not Justin. Not this time…the thought nearly made me collapse and before I could stop myself I had dialed the diner. Deb answered. "Is he there?" I demanded unable to make myself hang up before I heard her answer. "Who is this?" she asked her voice filled with suspicion. 'You know who this is, is he fucking there?" I yelled unable to imagine what was going to happen if her answer was no. Visions of boys being snatched off the streets in windowless white vans dredged up from childhood nightmares chilled my bones. "Sunshine? Of course he's here. You sent him here didn't you?" She had plenty more to say but I hung up on her I didn't have time for Deb's inane prattling. I steeled myself and dialed for emergency assistance. "911, how may I direct your call." The calm professional voice answered halfway through the first ring. "I need the police." Those words were acid on my tongue, who ever needed those homophobic pricks? I stared down at the face on the floor and shook my head. All things considered right at this fucking minute I supposed I did. "There's a dead guy in my foyer." ~*~ By the time the police got done with me I was so fucking pissed off I could have choked one of them given the least opportunity. They had asked the most imbecilic questions I had ever had the indignity to suffer through. What the fuck difference do the details of my life make to them? Did they think I had fucking killed the guy in my loft, bled him dry in the fucking shower and hauled him down there to prop up like some bizarre trophy? Or maybe their fucking theory was that I had done the evil deed some place else then hauled the body, sans head, back here to throw them off track and then I had hung around breathing the lovely perfume of my barf mixed with his slowly decaying body because I wanted to wallow in my success? The police were stupid assholes and in my fucking opinion we would never know who had been behind that atrocious tableau. Goddamn fucking idiots. I left the apartment behind me and drove toward the lights, noise, booze and drugs of Liberty Avenue. I needed a drink, drugs and fucking and in that order. Between Justin's fucking hysterics on the phone, hanging out with the fucking corpse half the afternoon waiting for the goddamn cops to decide to pay a visit to the dead queer, I was emotionally drained dry. I had tried moving to where I couldn't see him but that gave me the fucking creeps like he was going to get up and put his head under his arm and come looking for attention. I raked my hand through my hair. Christ. When the cops had shown up there had been little concern for the dead and less respect. It had been a fucking torturous couple hours. When they had finished with pictures and collecting evidence and were preparing to fucking bag him up, one of the cops had come to get me. Asked to explain what they had found. I could only laugh. How the fuck should I know why some faggot had his cock painted red. And finding out whether he had done it to himself or if it had been done after he was dead was their fucking job. Goddamn fucking idiots. An hour later I had downed my drinks, found my drugs and was buried in the hot tight ass of the first trick to catch my eye as I wandered through the backroom. My mind was a blur, no worries…no fucking dead bodies to haunt me. I gripped the sweat slick hips of the dark haired trick bent over in front of me and pounded repeatedly into his ass. His very hot, very tight ass. The booze made my mind thick and slow. The drugs made my blood hum. I quickened the pace feeling my orgasm beginning to build in earnest. And my phone rang. Goddamn shit. I fumbled for it. I never stopped fucking as I flipped it open. "Hello?" I did nothing to disguise the annoyance in my voice. "What the fuck do you want Deb, I'm busy." I slowed my motion even though the body under me protested. I smacked his ass, I was running this show. "What the fuck do you mean what am I doing? I'm not his goddamn nanny. Something came up…" ah Jesus I had put my fucking orgasm off as long as I could. She could fucking well enjoy it with me. Phone in one hand and the other on the finely rounded ass in front of me I resumed pounding my cock into him until with a final thrust and a low growl I came. I shuddered for a moment still buried deep in his ass. Then I moved away, carefully uncoupling us. The trick tried to kiss me but I waved him off. I was done and cradling the phone between my cheek and shoulder I dismissed him and focused on discarding the condom and fixing my pants. "Now what?" I asked. "You son of a bitch." Was all I got and then I was somewhat firmly disconnected. The bitch hung up on me. I shrugged wasn't the first time. Not likely to be the last. My head buzzed and I had work the next day. Thinking of going back to the loft brought its own vision of a blond head laying in the floor, a red cock nestled lifelessly in painted pubes. I slammed my fist into a nearby wall. "Fuck this." I turned to exit the backroom, I was going home. Making my way through Babylon to the exit took me past Mikey and company. "Where's the Missus?" Ted sneered. I started to turn towards him and realized what an incredibly bad idea that would be tonight. I ignored him and kept walking. I don't do relationships and I fucking wasn't in one now. They could keep their goddamn smart assed opinions to themselves. I knew I was in no shape to drive home but crawled behind the wheel of the jeep anyhow. I was going home and no goddamn dead asshole was going to keep me from it. Somehow I got back to the loft without killing myself or any fucking body else. I had to use the stairs since the fucking elevator was still taped off. I let myself in and after sliding the door shut and engaging the security system started for my bed shedding clothes. It was not until I was ready to crawl under the blanket that I realized Justin was there before me. He was curled on his side pretending to sleep. Fucking kid. I climbed in beside him without speaking even though the remembered sound of his panic now echoed in my mind and my words, "Until I can get there." Fuck. I wasn't his damn boyfriend. I damn sure wasn't his fucking father. He had to learn to take care of himself. He turned towards me and I was pulling him into my arms. My face and my hands in his hair the smell of him surrounding me. I smelled of smoke, booze and fucking. He smelled like goddamn sunshine. His body was hard against mine, and I could feel his heart beating against my chest. His arms wrapped around me and the secret of how I had trembled within his embrace was safe between us two . And then I was kissing him, his face between my hands, his skin supple, warm and alive under my fingers. His mouth opened under mine and his tongue thrust eagerly into my mouth. I rolled pinning him to the bed as I ravished his mouth with mine and his body with my hands. I paused, breathing heavily I cupped Justin's face again and rested my forehead against his. He didn't question me. He knew where I had been and what I had seen; what we had seen. Suddenly cold I rolled to my side pulling him with me. I wrapped myself around him and buried my face in his fucking hair. He didn't protest, he never did no matter what I fucking did, the little asshole. My hand cupped the back of his head and I kissed his forehead. I could feel sleep waiting to steal me away. Not Justin; was the last thought I can remember having before I succumbed. Fucking Sunshine TBC Reviews are Ambrosia, let me know how you liked this chapter :)