Part Six They were a tangle of limbs on Brian's bed even long after the loft door had slammed shut, three bodies, one warm and two curiously cool, a fact that seemed to have gone unnoticed so far by the nameless trick pressed between them. The guy was gone, too caught up in their activities to notice much of anything, Justin thought, turning his face to the side to slide his tongue in a line down the man's throat, dodging the open mouth that had nearly pressed against his lips in a forbidden kiss. The man threw his head back to rest against Brian's shoulder and Justin moved lower, nipping and licking at the heaving chest, reaching around to caress Brian's skin. Was Brian fucking the guy? Justin decided it didn't matter, wouldn't matter; this was nobody, it was nothing - the only thing that really mattered was the feeding this anonymous body would provide. The rest was more Brian's game than Justin's, one they'd played over and over again in recent weeks, and in all variations. Sometimes at Babylon, sometimes at the baths or some other place that provided an opportunity. Sometimes it went very quickly and sometimes Brian would draw it out, in a mood to play and to relish the anticipation; tonight seemed to be such a night. Licking a path down the man's torso, Justin felt the muscular body turn and settle against the mattress as Brian moved to push the man flat on his back, licking and sucking at the exposed throat. Half anticipating the man to go rigid with surprise when Brian would sink his teeth into the vein, Justin let his tongue swirl around the man's hard cock before sliding it into his mouth, sucking hard. It usually distracted them. But Brian made no move to bite; instead he grasped the trick by the hair, guiding the man lower until the trick's mouth engulfed his cock. The guy was good at that, Justin thought as he wriggled upwards again; he'd already tested his skill in the back room at Babylon while Brian waited at the bar. Afterward, Justin had quickly and unobtrusively fed on the trick before leading him back out in an amnesic daze, to Brian and then to the loft, like a lamb to the slaugherhouse. Quite some time had passed since then, but Justin knew it wasn't just for play, it was to give the trick some time to recover from being fed on once already, and they always made a night of it when they shared one. Justin slid both hands over the cool skin of Brian's chest, over the chilly sheen of sweat, sucking at Brian's nipples and warming them under his tongue until he heard Brian gasp, felt his back arch and the grasp of his hands. Justin kissed him, feeling sharp teeth nick his tongue as Brian sucked it into his mouth, moaning at the taste of the salty trickle, anticipating what was to come. Justin felt Brian murmur something against his lips. Justin drew back slightly. "What?" "Fuck him," Brian whispered. "I want to watch you while he blows me." "All right," Justin said, grinning. Brian loved to watch, loved it when he took charge as long as it was with others. The tricks were never asked, but then they never refused either, always agreeable and completely docile in their company, no matter what they did to them. Justin plucked a condom and lube from the ever-present bowl on the console beside the bed, tearing the wrapper as he moved to kneel behind the trick. The man seemed not to take notice, his concentration focused on Brian's dick sliding in and out of the suction of his mouth; he only grunted briefly at the cold trickle of lube, at Justin's fingers probing before he carefully maneuvered his sheathed cock inside. "Oh God," Justin gasped, still new enough at this not to be jaded and dulled, still a little surprised at how different this was from anything else, the constricting tightness all around, the incredible heat. The thin latex of the condom didn't even seem to dull the sensation of sliding into a snug tube of wet silk padded with hot flesh. It pulsed in the same rhythm as his cock so that he couldn't tell the two beats apart after a moment, actually feeling his cock pulse, congested in the tight grip. He drew back, wondering for a second if he would even be able to budge, and then at how easy and smooth it was. He ran a hand over the trick's hip and across the small of his back, feeling the spine dip under his palm as the man pushed back against him, heard him moan around Brian's cock. Opening his eyes, he caught Brian's gaze, the dark eyes fixed on him under lowered lashes. Brian was smiling, and Justin grinned back, not bothering to keep the tips of his long incisors covered, out of view behind the tricks back. Brian's smile widened briefly, then he threw his head back, gasping, fingers twining in the trick's hair as the man's ministrations increased in ardor in response to Justin's cock moving inside him. "You have good taste," Brian ground out between gasps of air. "Thanks," the trick responded, although he didn't sound sure if he was being addressed, or what it was about. "Not you," Brian said. He tugged at the man's hair, yanking his face downward again. "I meant him." Justin smiled, understanding Brian's words, complimenting him as if he'd brought home a particularly decorative gadget or innovative sex toy that needed no praise for the way it functioned - Brian's appreciation was for him alone and was a reassuring reminder of their connection, even with this nameless man between them, separating and at the same time curiously linking them together. Justin closed his eyes, idly fantasizing about the trick swallowing Brian so far down that his cock would touch Brian's if he fucked the trick deeply enough. And damned if he couldn't try, he thought, grinning. He gripped the man's hips, driving in roughly, and leaned forward to rest his forehead on the smooth back underneath him. He knew he was coming; Brian was coming, the sounds he was making pushing Justin closer to the edge. Justin breathed against the trick's back in harsh gasps as he thrust into the man more quickly, less deeply, feeling the narrowest part of the man's hole clench even more tightly around the head of his cock, and he groaned, coming, making him almost dizzy with its suddenness. His senses came back quickly though, and he carefully pulled out, tying off the condom before discarding it, impatient to be closer to Brian now that it was over. It was always that way, this urge to reconnect with Brian after he'd been with someone else, feeling a little lost until he'd done so; Brian's touch almost seeming to erase the touch of strangers from his skin in a way that was reassuring, if a bit sentimental. Lesbianic, Justin thought. Lesbianic is what Brian would call it, if he knew. It didn't matter and he probably did know. Justin scooted up, nestling close to Brian, kissing him deeply, feeling Brian's heart thud heavily against his own. The trick was still kneeling between Brian's legs, dabbing at traces of come and spit on his lips with his fingers, watching them. A short look and a slight smile passed between them after the kiss, then they moved in on the trick. Brian grasped the man's shoulders, pushing him backward, mouth nuzzling at his throat. Justin grasped the trick's cock, cupping his balls with the other hand, and swallowed him deeply, creating as much suction and friction as he could, getting him off. He could tell the precise moment Brian's teeth sank into the trick's throat, by the startled groan and the jerk of his body. Justin didn't let up until the man's cock pulsed in his mouth and he felt the slightly acidic burn of come spilling down the back of his throat as he swallowed. When he leaned up, the trick's body was limp, half covered by Brian's, whose mouth was still at the man's throat. "Brian," he whispered, reaching out to caress his arm, Brian's skin warm now under the palm of his hand. Brian moved away from the half-concious trick, wiping at his lips and leaving a red stain on the back of his hand. He let himself fall back and stretched languidly, smiling and wrapping an arm around Justin, who curled up against his side. "Give him a minute and I'll get rid of him," Brian whispered. "Mmm," Justin murmured. He yawned deeply, settling against Brian and closing his eyes, beginning to drift. He knew Brian would take care of the trick; he usually did. Later on they might shower, or else they might not, often Brian crawled back into bed beside him and they fell asleep, sated and too tired to make the effort. But at least they fell asleep together and Justin was sure by now that it was exactly what Brian wanted. At least he'd been able to tell Justin that - it was enough for now, it had to be. So much had changed since he'd moved in with Brian; they'd both changed, in subtle ways. Justin smiled at himself a little ironically, remembering the night he'd walked back to the loft with Daphne, sharing a joint on the way, telling her in all his naive conviction that Brian had been the one to have changed. And he had, though not in the way Justin meant; the fact that they'd walked in on Brian fucking the man from the Shop-N-Save on the couch had illustrated that. Most impressively. The Zuccini Man, Brian had called him during a conversation the next day. It had meant nothing, Brian had said, not sure which was more incredible - that he felt the need to justify himself, or that his attempts at seduction had been met with a brush-off. "I know," Justin answered. "It was just you being you. I know who you are; I don't expect you to change. In fact, I don't want you to." Brian sighed. "Then what?" "Why am I here?" Brian had attempted to make light of the situation, but Justin couldn't let it go. It was just too important, too painful - too fundamental to ignore. "You know what I mean," Justin said. "Is it just because you feel guilty about what happened? Answer me!" But Brian hadn't answered, and Justin felt his heart contract in a sort of panic and then start to race. He wanted to shake Brian, demanding some kind of reassurance, some hint that what Michael had said wasn't true - anything at all to relieve him of his burden of doubt and fear...and hopeless desperation. "Answer me," he repeated. "If I hadn't gotten bashed in the head, would I even be here?" When Brian had looked away wordlessly, it was like the sky falling down. Blinded by tears, Justin gathered up his drawings and portfolio and fled. The rain pouring down outside mingled with tears and dripped down his face, but he hadn't cared or even noticed. He sought and found refuge at Debbie's house, in Michael's old room, where he'd already stayed once before when his heart had felt heavy as a stone because of Brian. Only this time it was much, much worse. This time the hopes he'd had shattered weren't grounded on an infatuation, but on experiences that had changed his entire world, on feelings that were so real they seemed tangible. At least he'd thought so. He'd been heartbroken and felt utterly humiliated and foolish. Great expectations, he'd thought sarcastically. Not that he'd be the only one; it was yesterday's news to him that Brian fucked his dinner. Hell, they both did. The naive assumptions about love he'd grown up believing didn't hold water when tested against reality - not this reality anyway. He swiped at fresh tears angrily. First he'd been just a fuck, and Brian had spelled it out for him. But this was worse, so pathetic Brian hadn't spelled it out. Damaged goods. A living, breathing guilt trip, taken in out of pity. But then the unexpected happened, and Brian had sought him out. At Babylon. He'd finally answered the question, more openly and completely than Justin had expected. Out fucking...Coming home to you. Home. Justin's mind reeled at the realization that the pain and torturous uncertainty he'd begun to resign himself to could be over with, could be negotiated down to a tolerable level, if not completely eradicated, if he played his cards right. If he didn't give himself over too quickly, too cheaply, like an overeager lap-dog jumping at the chance to sleep in Brian's bed again. "Okay," he said, "I want some things too." Brian's expression of surprise wasn't lost on him, nor the fact that what he proposed next was also an eye-opener, an unexpected factor Brian hadn't even considered yet. "You can fuck whoever you want, as long as it's not twice. Same for me. And no names or numbers exchanged. And no matter where you are, no matter what you're doing, you always come home...by two." "Four," Brian said. "Three," Justin conceeded, and Brian expressed his agreement through silence. "One more thing. You don't kiss anyone else on the mouth but me." Brian's hestiation had lasted only a minute, then he pulled Justin close, kissing him hard on the lips. Sealing their agreement, without words, without bullshit. The sound of the loft door rumbling shut brought Justin back to the present, and he smiled, knowing they were alone once again. He rolled over on his side sleepily, feeling the mattress dip as Brian joined him, smiled again after a kiss was pressed to his lips. He'd been kissed a lot recently, he realized. "Shower?" Brian asked. "Hmmm. In a minute. Hey!" he exclaimed as Brian popped him on the ass. "You'll just fall asleep in a minute." But when he still didn't move, Brian flopped down beside him with a sigh of resignation. Justin nestled close, throwing an arm over Brian's chest and closing his eyes. A minute passed and then several. The rise and fall of Brian's chest slowed and deepend, and presently Justin heard a soft snore. He stirred, but the movement made Brian tighten his arm around him and draw him closer, mumbling something unintelligibly, so he relaxed again. Yep, definitely a snore. Justin bit back a grin. It felt good to be home.