Chapter 9 Brian rolls over and looks at the clock on the bedside table. The clock glows 1:30 a.m. Jesus fucking Christ, why can't I just sleep a full night? Brian lays there and starts to think about the predicament he has gotten himself into. What the hell do you do now, Kinney, to get yourself out of this one? As Brian closes his eyes, the image of Justin drifts across his mind: the shiney blond hair, stormy blue eyes, full soft lips, beautiful smile, small firm body, and fabulous ass. Come on, Kinney, this is just lust. You can't be feeling anything else for this kid other than that. Well, then, why the hell did you get him out of Pittsburgh? The argument continues to rage in his head. No, I don't feel anything; don't do love, don't do relationships. But this one may be different, the other voice says in his head. Like hell, he's different. He's a glorified hustler. Yeah, but what put him in that circumstance. Give the kid a break. Even though Justin may be a mess emotionally with all he's been through, he's a good person. I can feel that about him. As Brian lays there, he scrubs his hands over his face. Suddenly he's alert, thinking he hears something. He sits up and doesn't breathe, just listening. No, Kinney, just your imagination. I need a drink. Brian quietly walks out into the hallway, and glances in on Justin to make sure he's all right. For once he seems to be sleeping somewhat peacefully. There is a little tossing and turning going on, but no outbursts like in the hotel the night after Norris' death. Brian is about to turn and go downstairs when he spots Justin's duffel bag, and he spies the videotapes on top. Oh, hell, Kinney, it's none of your business. But, the other voice says, don't you want to see what Justin has on this person that could make this guy's life a living hell? Slowly Brian walks the rest of the way into the bedroom and picks up the tapes, closes the door, and makes his way downstairs. Brian stands in front of the TV and VCR with the tapes still in his hand, undecided if he should do what he's so conflicted about doing. Do I watch this shit? Brian is still undecided. He puts the tape with the oldest date on it in the machine, but before turning it on he walks away and pours himself that much-needed drink. Brian downs the shot in one hit, and then pours himself another. He walks over to the sofa and sits there with the remote in his hand, still trying to decide whether he wants to witness whatever is on those videotapes. Finally the voice in his head wins out, and he pushes "play." Brian sees Justin the first thing on the screen, slowly taking his shirt off. Then a body comes up from behind him, pinning his arms to his sides. Brian turns his head away, not quite able to decide if this was such a good thing or not. He stands and grabs the bottle. This may be more than a two-shot night, he decides. As he turns his back on the TV, he can hear the grunts and snarls coming out of the mouth of the man. Shit, this must be the asshole cop he's so afraid of. He looks over his shoulder at the screen again, and as he glances at the picture on the screen he doesn't see Justin having a good time at all. In fact, it's as if he has turned himself off. There is no emotion. He's just a vessel to be used and filled. Brian starts to feel nauseaus. Brian walks back to the couch, still unable to look at the pictures that are flashing across the screen, but still able to hear all of it. Again he glances up to get another look, not quite sure if it is a dream or if he is witnessing all that he is. Jesus, Kinney, you're like some rubber-necking asshole passing the scene of an accident. You can't but help to look. Suddenly there is a voice from behind him.' "Are you getting your rocks off to it?" Justin's voice sarcastically says. "Fuck, Justin, you scared the shit out of me. Don't do that." "Answer me. Does this shit get you off? Are you like them?" Brian picks up the remote and shuts off the TV, turns around, and faces Justin. "No, this doesn't get me off. This is sick. I just don't get it. How could you let him do that to you?" "Let him, like you think I had a choice in the matter? You said you wouldn't judge me, but yet you are." "I'm just trying to understand, Justin. How could you do this for two years? I'm trying to understand. Please help me to understand." Justin takes a deep breath and sits down next to the fireplace in the chair. "There's this comedian, he does the same act. He's done it for years. He goes on stage, tells the first joke, and then for the next hour he thinks about going on vacation or something. He tells his last joke, he takes a bow, and he drives home. He can't remember anything. He was just on autopilot. Do you know what it's like to be fucked on demand?" Justin says as he leans forward in the chair, the anger starting to rise in his voice. "You're a lump of meat, nothing, trash. You feel your whole body shutting down like a worn out car; like the comedian who is on autopilot. You need to shut down, detach yourself from everything that's happening. You tell yourself this won't take long, but you're weak and you start to think about what you're doing. And you get good at it. You find the switch -- the fucking on/off switch. You turn off the switch, you get fucked. Someone sucks you off, and you aren't there. But when it's over you have to be nice, because if you aren't nice Robert will find out and then you'll get the shit beat out of you. So, Brian, you ask me how I can do it. That's how I did it." Justin takes a deep breath and says forcefully and resolutely, "And I'm not doing it anymore! I want to love. I want to know what it feels like to be wanted for who I am. I want a normal life -- whatever the hell that is. I don't know if I really know anymore. I want to get in trouble with someone I love for coming home late from work. I want . . ." Justin's voice starts to crack and the tears start to flow down his cheeks. Brian kneels down in front of him and cups Justin's face, running his thumbs over his cheeks to wipe away the tears. Brian looks at Justin's face as Justin continues to stare at the floor. "Look at me, Justin." Justin lifts his head and looks into Brian's eyes. "You are not nothing or trash. Do you hear me? You are brave and smart and beautiful. I don't know how you survived all these years, but I doubt that just anybody could have. You have to be very special to have lived through all that you have." With Brian's last sentence out of his mouth, he finds himself leaning forward and kissing Justin. At first Justin stiffens, but then relaxes and leans into the kiss. Brian is kneeling in front of Justin, as he still sits in the chair. Hands are fumbling furiously as they try to lift T-shirts over heads and fumble with pajama bottoms. There is a rush and hurry to feel skin on skin. Brian motions with his hand to wait for just a moment and runs to his jacket by the front door and grabs a condom and some lube. "No, I was never a Boy Scout, but I do believe in being prepared," he rushed out. As Brian kneels on the rug in front of the fireplace, he grabs Justin again and pulls him to the floor, reclining beside him as they continue to kiss. My, God, he's tastes so sweet. Who could ever hurt him? Brian runs his tongue down Justin's neck, as his hands move down to his chest, rubbing his nipples until they are bright pink. Justin can feel himself starting to harden with each lick of Brian's tongue and each move his hands make. Brian pauses and looks down at Justin's luminescent eyes and decides to slow down a bit, trying to not let the images he had witnessed on the videotape creep into his mind. Take it slow with him, Brian. Everyone has just taken him. Pleasure him, he kept thinking. Brian kisses his way down Justin's chest, circling each nipple with his tongue. As he hears Justin moan, he continues down and circles his naval, while his hand has taken ahold of his now very-hard cock and starts to stroke him, using the pre-cum as lubricant. Brian can't restrain himself any longer and takes Justin's cock in one fluid motion into his mouth, moving his head up and down and circling the head with his tongue. Justin's moans and his hands in Brian's hair drives Brian into a frenzy. I can't get enough of this kid. After several minutes, Justin can no longer contain himself and shoots into Brian's mouth. Brian takes it all in. Slowly he kisses his way up Justin's body and kisses his lips. Justin pulls Brian's tongue into this mouth, tasting himself on Brian's tongue. Brian lets Justin catch his breath and then rolls him over gently. Starting at the base of his neck, Brian slowly slides his tongue down Justin's spine, stopping at the base of Justin's buttocks. He gently spreads Justin's cheeks and starts to rim Justin. Justin's voice is catching in short, deep gasps. "Please, Brian, enough. I want you inside of me. NOW!" "Roll over," Brian says softly. When he sees the questioning in Justin's eyes, he whispers, "I want to look at you." Brian sheaths himself in the condom and enters Justin, pausing to let him adjust. When Justin pushes back against Brian, Brian takes him by the hips to hold on, trying to take it slow, but, being overcome by the moment, finds himself slamming into Justin. Justin is crying out with each thrust with open-mouthed abandon. "Am I hurting you?" All Justin can do is shake his head no. No words can form in his mouth at the moment. Brian can feel Justin's cock start to harden again, and starts to stroke him in time with his thrusts. Brian can feel Justin's balls start to draw up, and suddenly Justin shoots all over Brian's hand. Two more thrusts and Brian fills the condom. Justin falls goes limp as he still holds onto Brian's back. Brian starts to move, but Justin grabs the back of his thigh and says just one word, "Stay." After a few moments, Brian has to pull out, and does so gently. Justin feels an overwhelming sense of loss, like this may never happen again with this man who, in such a short period of time, he has come to love. At least he hopes that's what he feels because he knows he has never felt this way about anyone before. Brian stands up, discards the condom, grabs the afghan off the back of the couch, lays down again next to Justin, and wraps them in the afghan. Brian wraps his arms around him, and they both settle into a dreamless sleep. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brian is the first to awaken. The sun is shining into the cabin, and he rolls stiffly onto his back. Shit, sleeping on the floor is not the thing to do at my age. Damn, did I just think that? Slowly Brian lifts Justin's head to dislodge it from his arm, and Brian slowly rises. He quietly goes upstairs to change into some jeans and a sweater, grabs his cell phone, and heads outside so as not to wake Justin, to talk to Carl to find out what the hell is going on in Pittsburgh. "Hey, Carl. Just checking in like you asked me to. What the hell happened with the raid on Norris' office?" "Brian, all hell has broken loose down here. But, Brian, more importantly, you've got to get the hell out of there. I think one of the cops that was involved in supplying Norris with his drugs is on his way to where you are." "How the hell does he know where we are?" "Michael went by your place and it was broken into. The contents of your desk were all over the place. Brian, one of the cops involved knows me, so he knows about the cabin. The cops is also missing, Brian. No one can get ahold of him. He probably saw the picture on your desk and put two and two together. Michael found your place broken into this morning, so he was probably there last night. Don't ask me how he knows you're involved, I really don't give a fuck. I just know you've got to get out of there and over to the Maine State Police. I've called them and told them if they don't hear from you in an hour, they're to send a car over." "Shit, Carl. I've gotten myself into a big hurt now, haven't I." "You sure have, kiddo. But we need Justin here. He's probably got information about Norris that isn't in any of the books that he can testify about. That's probably why Stockwell is after him." "Carl, Justin has some videotapes on him that have Stockwell's name on them. That's what he's after." "Brian, just pack him up and get the hell out of there now. I can't stress that any more than I already have. If Stockwell was at your place last night and left right away, he could be there at any time. Just get out." "All right. I'll go back inside and get Justin and head on out." "Just go to the police barracks on Route 26 in Gray. That's the closest place for you to head, and call me when you get there. I'm on my way up. I'm taking a plane, so it should only be about and hour and a half." ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brian walks back into the cabin and heads for Justin who has just awoken and is sleepily rubbing his eyes. He has a slight smile on his face which quickly fades when he sees the look on Brian's face. "What's wrong, Brian?" "We've got to get our things together quick and head the hell out of here. Carl just told that my place was broken into and Stockwell may be on his way up here. How he figured out you are with me is beyond me, but that's for another time. Get upstairs, get dressed, and let's get the fuck out of here." Justin runs up the stairs, throwing his things into his backpack and duffel bag, and quickly dresses in jeans and a sweatshirt. As Justin bounds down the stairs and hollers to Brian that he is ready to go, he stops dead in his tracks and his blood runs cold. Standing there is Stockwell and Charlie, and Charlie has a gun pointed at Brian's head. "Well, well, well," Charlie says with a sneer. "Look who we finally found, Jim." "Now, Justin," Jim starts to say, "it's not nice to play me like this. You know what I want, and I want it now." "I don't know what you're talking about," Justin says. "Don't fuck with me, you little slut. You know what the hell I'm talking about. And if you aren't going to hand them over in the next 10 seconds, your friend's brains are going to splattered all over this nice little cabin. Now you wouldn't want that, would you?" Justin stares at Brian and starts to walk over to the TV where the videos had been left the night before. He ejects the one out of the VCR and hands all three over to Stockwell. Charlie keeps the gun at Brian's head, forcing him to sit down on the sofa. "Well, Justin, were you and your friend enjoying yourselves last night watching me fuck you? I didn't know you cared," snarled Stockwell. "Charlie, I do believe you were telling me that you never got to taste this little morsel for yourself, did you. How would like to demonstrate to Mr. Kinney here just what he's good for and how good he is at it?" "No. Leave me the fuck alone," Justin said defiantly." In one step Charlie is standing in front of Justin and backhands him. "You don't get to tell me no anymore, whore. Robert isn't here to protect that nice little ass of yours." Brian tries to stand to protect Justin, but Stockwell points his gun at Brian. "Sit your ass down, Kinney. Just watch and learn what the kid is really good at." Getting aroused by the whole situation, Charlie reaches down and unzips his fly and reaches in to extract his hard cock. He puts his hand on top of Justin's head, trying to push him to his knees. Justin grabs Charlie's hand and fights him, but Charlie is bigger and stronger. Charlie pushes Justin down to his knees, Justin fighting all the way. Charlie grabs his jaw, forcing his mouth open. All Brian can do is turn his head away, not able to watch. Stockwell sees this and nudges his gun against Brian's temple. "You will watch this or you can die right now." Brian turns his eyes back to Justin as he sees him take the man's cock into his mouth. Charlie's head lolls back and a sigh escapes his mouth. Suddenly there is a loud scream, as Justin bites down as hard as he can on Charlie's dick. Standing suddenly, Justin starts to push Charlie back and they go crashing through the window out onto the porch. Brian takes this opportunity, since Stockwell is distracted, to throw a right hook and dislodge the gun from his grasp. Brian is about to call out Justin's name when he hears a gun go off.