Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction
Author's Chapter Notes:

Brian feels like he's done with anger, but Justin knows better. How will Justin help?

Why Not With Me

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-Five: Restrained

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You gotta live

You gotta love

You gotta be somebody,

You gotta shove.

 

You gotta feel something.

 

But it’s so hard,

It’s really hard.

Sometimes I feel like going down.

 

              - Lyrics from It’s So Hard, by John Lennon

----------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

------------------Justin’s Point of View --------------

 

When Brian came in from his appointment with Dr. Stevenson, I’d just finished unpacking.

It seemed a little weird to start his hour since I hadn’t seen him or touched him in two days. Two days that felt like an eternity.

 

His lips pressed against mine hungrily, insistently opening my mouth for his tongue. I took his hips firmly in my hands and tasted him. The faint taste of spicy cinnamon gum invaded my mouth.

 

I could feel the urgency of his body; his hands on my hips, holding on so tight. His thumbs on the top of my hipbones. His fingers wrapped around, pulling me forward, pulling me against him.

 

He pulled away long enough to murmur to me.

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“Hi, Sunshine,” and then he slid his tongue deep into my mouth again.  His hands slid down to my ass and lifted me just slightly so our erections would grind together. I groaned feeling how hard he was. Suddenly I was flushed and hot and feeling the full weight of our physical separation from each other.

 

---------Brian’s Point of View ---------

 

The moment I see Justin, my body takes over my mind. I’d been planning to talk to him about Dr. Stevenson’s first, but seeing him -- and smelling him -- and tasting him -- my body turned to high gear without my consent.

 

“Brian,” he gasps as my mouth leaves his and finds its way down his pale neck, just waiting to be marked by my teeth.

 

I gently push the top of my head against his chin, pushing his head back while I move down his body a little ways. My cock is throbbing in my pants and I know Justin felt it because now his hands are unzipping me, freeing me, pushing down my pants.

 

I walk him backwards as I step out of my pants.  I glance up to make sure he’s positioned right, then I push him hard and he falls against the chaise. His eyes meet mine, wide with surprise, panting just a little, face red, lips already plumped.

 

-----------Justin’s Point of View ----------

 

Brian’s on his knees. He’s kneeling between my legs, hanging over the edge of the chaise. Looking at me hungrily, his hands sliding up my thighs, unzipping me. His thumbs hooking on the belt loops of my jeans and pulling them down and off.

I feel his breath first; he’s buried in my crotch and I push up against him; I can’t help it.

 

I hear him chuckle a little, I feel the breath uneven as he does it.

 

Then his mouth his open and then I feel him swallow me.

 

--------Brian’s Point of View ---------

 

Justin never seems to get over how much I love to suck him.  Maybe it’s because, that first night, I didn’t really focus on it.

 

Maybe it’s because I never suck him in public. 

Well, whatever the reason, Justin still looks at me with wide-eyed surprise before his head falls back and his eyes close tight. He can’t ever keep them open when my mouth is on him. He told me once how much he wants to watch me when I deep throat him; how much he wants to see what it looks like when I swallow him.

I don’t think he’s ever done it.  If he did, then he’d believe that I do love it -- I love how hard he is in my mouth. How rigid he gets. How I have to move to him sometimes. How that hardness is also like velvet… wet velvet, slippery and sliding through my mouth. The taste, the dripping of his precum -- god, sometimes it’s almost hard to remember to fuck him, because the taste of him as he pulses into my mouth is just that good.

 

-------- Justin’s Point of View -----

 

“Watch me, Justin,” he says with a glint in his eye. He knows I never can.

 

“I can’t,” I manage to say as I feel my orgasm edging closer. As I feel his mouth squeezing and releasing me rhythmically. As I feel his hands clutching my buttocks, pulling me closer.

 

“Watch me,” he says a few moments later, pulling away for just a moment, letting me catch my breath. It’s a command this time, I hear it in his tone.

 

Then he continues, keeping up his rhythm, taking me all the way in -- body and mind. Thought was gone to feeling -- feeling like I was imploding and expanding, floating and sinking -- and then somehow I remembered the command and I looked down as it turned to exploding.

 

----------Brian’s Point of View -------

 

He does it. He keeps his eyes open and he watches me, and I happily swallow all he has saved for me.

 

I feel him shoot again into my mouth as his mind registers his view and I know he enjoyed it.

 

It’s this last load that I feed back to him after I crawl back up his sprawled body .

 

-----Justin’s Point of View -------

 

Brian’s  expression when he swallows me is -- is almost the same as the one he has when I’m swallowing him.

 

Making me come almost feels to him like -- like coming. Fuck, that was the hottest I’ve ever seen him look.

 

I taste myself and his spit, and I feel him turning me, pushing me so I’m on my knees for him. Then I can feel the slight scratch of his 5 o’clock shadow against my neck, and I can smell the cinnamon of his breath. I feel him covering all of me, his hard body matching mine, curve for curve.

 

Jesus.

 

--------Brian’s Point of View ------

 

I put my fingers in his mouth and he knows just what to do. He licks down them, knuckle to fingertip. Then he sucks, keeping his tongue flat along the underside, curling it just a little.

 

The same way I like him to suck my cock.

 

I lean my head a little closer.

 

“Spit so I can get you wetter.”

 

He groans and his hips push against me. Then he spits a little into my fingers.

 

-------Justin’s Point of View -------

 

“Oh fuck, Brian -- fuck,” I stutter out when I feel his fingers, wet with my spit, pushing a little ways into me.

 

He nuzzles into my neck and breathes in.

 

“Shhhh…concentrate and take it,” he murmurs and pushes harder.

 

I bite my lip and bear down hard, wanting so badly to do what he says.

 

-------Brian’s Point of View -------

 

He’s clenching me hard. Fuck, so tight! I swear he’s gotten tighter over the last two days of not being fucked.

 

I get two fingers in to the knuckles and then I hear him holding his breath and I know I need to slow down.

 

I ease my fingers out and he whimpers, but starts breathing again. Then I fumble around for a moment before finding my shirt, finding my lube.

 

I coat four fingers and warm some in my hand before adding it to his pucker. He shudders when I do.

 

“Please,” he mutters, turning his head a little, trying to look at me.

 

“Please what?” He groans and pushes his ass farther up, bumping it against my cock, sending a little shock wave through my body.

 

“Fuck me.”

 

I push three fingers in about an inch and he takes in a long breath. I push his body down, making him  hold himself up, but I don’t push in farther for a moment. Not until he lets the last part of that breath out.

 

Then I push all three fingers in, and hard.

 

He gasps and I see him clench the sheets.

 

--------Justin’s Point of View ---------

 

Oh god, god, god!  I’m dripping all over the bed, and Brian is pushing himself so hard against me, so hard in me.

 

His breath is getting harsher in my ear and I know it’s getting hard for him to wait. Then I feel his pointer finger push forward, right on target.

 

-------Brian’s Point of View -------

 

He yelps a little when I start on his prostate. I press gently for a couple long minutes, loving how the sounds grow, from this yelp, to a faint whimper, to a genuine mewl as he edges close to his second orgasm of the night.

 

“Get in me,” he pleads, panting.

 

I pull out of him slowly but he still groans at the emptiness.

 

I put the condom on and more lube, though I don’t think he’ll need it.

 

I shut my eyes when I enter him. This way I let the sensations bring me visions, too. Visions of Justin’s ass. Visions of his eyes, excited, wet and scared when I first entered him.

 

Visions of his smile, that night at the prom.

 

I go steady, no stopping until I feel I can’t go farther. Then I push forward a few times, my hips jutting me slightly, his hipbones against mine.

 

“Fuck yeah,” he murmurs and lets his upper body fall a little onto the bed.

 

I rock into him to the pace of his breathing. When he breathes out, I pull out. When he breathes in, I push in.  This makes him crazy, makes him so fucking hard.

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Soon I feel it within me -- taking over everything within me. It starts out manageable -- I can push back the feelings by thinking about Justin, by feeling him, hearing his breath, feeling his slit with my thumb.

 

But then, then it won’t be put off, and all I feel is this blaze, warming inside me, consuming everything I have inside me.  I automatically work his cock faster, wanting him to surrender with me, wanting to feel him spasm around my cock while I’m unloading into him.

 

We do -- his ass tightens around me at just the right moment, my hand is wet, I’m pushing deeper, one hand holding his hips because -- because I want to be inside him…so I can imagine I’m really inside him, that I could be filling him up with something other than spit and lube.

 

----------Justin’s Point of View ------------------

 

I’m not sure how long I laid there under him. I sort of remember feeling him pulling out, but mostly I remember feeling him kissing me. Tender, soft, wet.

 

Then I remember how he was still on top of me, his body covering mine like a blanket, and now he was kissing my neck, nibbling on my ears.

 

--------------Brian’s Point of View -----------

 

Later that night, we were in bed. I was looking up at the ceiling and threading my fingers through Justin’s hair.  Hoping I could say some things without getting us both out of bed to go to that chair.

-----------Justin’s Point of View -----------

 

“Jus…”

 

“Mmmm?” I answer, slightly asleep.

 

“I was… sort of angry today.”

 

That wakes me up. I turn and look up at him. He’s staring up at the ceiling.

 

“Did something happen at work?”

 

He shakes his head.

 

“Your family? Your sister?” I guessed, thinking back to things I knew could anger him.

 

He shakes his head and says nothing else.

 

I sigh and he slides his fingers to my cheek, stroking it a little.

 

“Goodnight, Sunshine,” he says, then bends a little to kiss the top of my head.

 

--------Brian’s Point of View ------------

 

Well… I don’t know. That didn’t really work, did it?

 

I mean……I don’t want to be angry. I don’t want to think about it all again. Not now, not in the afterglow.

 

Maybe tomorrow, or some other time. Right now, I’m kind of happy.

 

------Justin’s Point of View ----------------

 

I didn’t fall asleep for a while after that. I wasn’t sure what to make of Brian’s statement. He’d been angry. Not at work, not at family.

 

Was he mad at me? And if so, why?

 

Or had something else happened? I just don’t know.

 

But he doesn’t seem mad now. He seems pretty peaceful and calm. He strokes my forehead gently for a few minutes after he says goodnight. Then it slows to a stop as he falls asleep.

 

------------

The next day after dinner, he still hasn’t given me any clue about this whole anger thing, and I’m dying of curiosity. 

 

I go and sit in the chair. Within a few minutes, he’s shifting us over so I’m half on his lap and his arms are secure around me.

 

-------Brian’s Point of View ----------

 

“What was it that you were angry about?” He asks me point blank, and I can tell it’s been bothering him.

 

I’d tried to say it, but it was a hard thing to explain. It was also going to be hard to say -- to say how the abuse felt good. So I hadn’t. And now I had to.

 

I clear my throat.

 

“I…was angry because…. I got to thinking about how little my parents ever did for me.”

 

He takes in a breath and his hand tightens around mine.

 

“There were times when… it seemed like they never… even thought about me.” 

He brushes his lips along my cheekbones where a tear or two has escaped. He knows better than to say anything.

 

“And…” I take a deep breath and try to say it.

 

“And…there were some times when… even… abuse felt… good.”

 

He kisses me on the mouth, stopping me from having to say anything else, letting me feel him and taste him and be taken away for a moment.

 

-------Justin’s Point of View ---------

 

I pull away and pull him to me, urging him to rest his head against me. He finally does, and I let my hand cup his head.

 

“It’s okay, Brian. It’s okay,” I say softly, feeling the nervousness radiating from him.

 

“Dr. Stevenson says…that it’s not… not sick. That I just needed attention.”

 

I force him to look at me for a moment.

 

“Of course you did. It’s okay, Beautiful. It’s okay. You just wanted to feel something, like you deserved some emotion. I understand,” I tell him, hoping he believes me.

 

“I was so angry,” he says.

 

“Of course you are. You should be. They robbed you of your childhood.”

 

His breath catches and he clenches his jaw.

 

“I don’t want to be angry,”  he says.

 

--------Brian’s Point of View ---------

 

“It’s okay to be angry,” Justin says, his voice clear and sure.

 

I shake my head.

 

“It doesn’t do any good.”

 

He sighs and shifts so we’re looking at each other.

 

“I’m really glad that you’re thinking more about this,” he says, “and I know it’s hard.”

 

This has nothing to do with it being hard; it’s just that I want it over. I want to move on. I want to feel good again.

 

“I was angry already at Dr. Stevenson’s,” I offer.

 

-------Justin’s Point of View--------

 

“What happened there?” I ask, hoping that he wants to talk about, it since he’s the one who brought it up.

 

“I -- yelled at him.”

 

“Okay,” I nod, “that’s good.”

 

He looks at me with a surprised, almost confused look.

 

“That’s what he said,” he insists,  his tone reminding me of Gus.

 

“It is good, Brian. I’m proud of you for being angry. That’s a positive step.”

 

He squints his eyes for a moment and twists up his mouth.

 

“Yeah, well… I hope it was.”


Was. He thinks it’s over. But it can’t be, not really. Not yet.

 

Somehow I don’t think that a little yelling could really let out the amount of anger that his situation warrants.

 

“Was?”

 

He nods.

 

“Yeah, was. It’s done. I’m done with it.”

 

------Brian’s Point of View -------

 

Why does everyone want to dwell on anger? Why do Dr. Stevenson and Justin seem to think that this is going to get worse?

 

It’s not going to be worse; it’s going to be better. I was angry, now I’m better.

 

Justin is smiling at me quietly, in a sort of amused way.

 

“What’s so funny?” I ask, slightly annoyed.

 

“You want this to be over so bad, don’t you?”  I nod.

 

“Well, it’s just… sort of cute. Because you don’t even seem to realize how much you’ve been through.”

 

---------Justin’s Point of View ------------

 

“Don’t know what I’ve been through? Yes I do,” he declares loudly.

 

“It’s a lot, it’s a lot to heal from,” I tell him quietly. He frowns and rolls his eyes in frustration.

 

“It is,” I repeat.

 

“Look….So I had sort of a tough time for a while as a kid. Lots of people do. Now I’m all grown up. And things are better.”

 

For some reason I decide to push him. To challenge him. Hopefully to help him.

 

“And what about therapy?” I ask.

 

He glares at me.


“Fine. So I needed maybe a little help to totally move on. But things are a lot better now, so why dwell on it?”

“You’re angry still,” I say, seeing it plainly in his eyes.

 

“I am not,” he says, standing up from the chair. He begins to pace around the living room a little.

 

“You’re pacing,” I say softly.

 

He glares again, eyes sharp with anger and annoyance.

 

“It’s fine to be angry, Brian. You have a lot to be angry about,” I say, standing up.

“Fuck,” he says, standing in front of me, “why do you want me angry so bad? I’m not angry.”

His tone is totally neutral but his body language is like a panther caged.

 

“Listen, Brian,” I say, putting my hands on his hips and looking up into his eyes, “are you listening?”

 

“I’m listening.”

 

“You are angry. Everything in your body is telling me that right now. I just want you to feel it. Acknowledge it. Because you deserve to. And then you can move on, like you want to,” I say as quietly as I can.

 

He takes a step back and I let him.

 

“I deserve it, huh? Why does everyone know what I deserve better than I do? And know what I should feel?”

 

“I know you, Beautiful. Okay? Like you know me. And I know you need to express that anger.”

 

He looks at me with sad eyes and then walks away.

 

-------

 

I stop and look out the window. The street is mostly empty. Not much to watch.

 

It’s so still for a few minutes.

 

I really am angry.

But I don’t know what to do about it.

 

When I’m standing here in the quiet, I know Justin is right.

 

But what am I supposed to do? 

I can’t yell at Justin; he’s been such a help.

 

I could call up Joanie and yell at her, but I think she’d hang up on me.

 

I wouldn’t even know what to say; not now, not yet.

 

I sigh deeply.

 

I fucking hate expressing feelings. Expressing affection is tough, but at least people welcome affection. At least I know how much Justin treasures my affection.

 

Expressing anger - - over the past? Around people who weren’t there, who didn’t even know me then? What sense does that make?

 

And what would I even say? What could I do? I don’t know the words for how I feel inside when I think about it. Betrayal and anger and bitterness are all far too weak as far as words go.

 

But Justin is right.

 

-----Justin’s Point of View -----

 

He turns around and comes back. He pulls me back over to the chair and sits me right in his lap.

 

“You’re right,” he says, whispering into my ear.

 

My heart pounds. God, thank you. Thank you for this chair. Thank you for this Brian, who talks to me sometimes.

 

I kiss his cheek. Then he continues.

 

“But… I don’t know how.” 

I swallow.


“Don’t want to yell at you. Don’t know what I could say anyway. Don’t want to hurt anyone,” he finishes, voice almost inaudible.

 

“It’ll be okay, Beautiful,” I whisper back.

 

We sit together for a minute or two quietly. I feel the anger still. It hasn’t dissipated; not really.  I think about it for a moment and I see his situation. There is so much to express -- how could it be done, and safely, and so he won’t have anything to regret?

 

I have an idea; it’s something I’ve never thought about before. Something I’ve never tried, either as giver or receiver.

 

I think about it for a while, and I really think it’s what he needs.

 

--------Brian’s Point of View --------

 

“Do you trust me?” Justin asks, blue eyes burning into mine.

 

“With everything,” I say, the answer coming easily.

 

He smiles and kisses me.

 

“Let me help,” he says. I nod.

 

He leads me to our bedroom.

 

“Lay down on your back,” he says quietly. I swallow hard and do as he says.

 

I don’t know what I’m anticipating. I’m just going to do what Justin says, because Justin is right.

 

He knows me, he loves me, and he knows what I need.

 

------Justin’s Point of View -------

 

I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down.  My arms and legs feel a little heavy with anxiety and my stomach is in knots.

 

I know he needs this, but I’m a little scared. This is so new for me, and I think for him, too.

 

I get out the short handcuffs, their chains are the ones that allow very little movement.

 

I get out the blindfold.  Brian is watching me. I walk over and put it on him.

 

He looks at me and I can see he’s nervous. He meets my eyes and nods.

 

My knees almost buckle.

I put the blindfold on him and he settles back against the bed.

 

I take off all of his clothes, revealing his gorgeous body.  Not for the first time I think about how I need to take up sculpting.

 

Then I attach the handcuffs to the bed posts and to him. He is spread, arms and legs. He can move each only a few inches.

 

He yanks the chains a little when I lock the cuffs, testing to see which length I’d grabbed. When he realizes they’re the shortest ones, I see his breath quicken.

 

I slide my body in next to him, whispering.

 

“It’s okay, Brian. It’s okay.”

 

I soothe him, running my hand along his chest, then making soft circles on his stomach.

 

I kiss his cheeks and then his mouth. I feel his mouth moving more confidently and I know it’s time to begin.

 

-------Brian’s Point of View ------

 

Fuck. I can hardly move at all.

 

And I can’t see anything.

 

Oh  god, what am I doing? What is Justin doing? What…what’s going to happen?

 

I swallow hard and blush. I’m not supposed to be so nervous. It’s just Justin.

 

Then I feel him touching me, stroking me, and finally, kissing me.


Good. I sigh. Good. Justin will take care of me.

 

“Tell me, Brian. Tell me what it felt like growing up.”

 

Huh? 

“Bad,” I say.

 

“You said they ignored you sometimes. Tell me what happened,” he urges.

 

“Once -- once I was out late, when I was ten or eleven. And no one even -- even noticed I was gone! They just all went to bed. As if… as if it didn’t matter one way or another. Whether I was home or not, alive or dead -- it made no difference! They could sleep soundly -- not even BOTHERED that they didn’t know where I was,” I say, feeling the anger coming.

 

“They let you go and didn’t care what happened to you,” he says, reminding me of Dr. Stevenson.

 

“Yeah! You know -- they didn’t care that it was night. They didn’t care -- anything might have happened. They didn’t even stay awake, waiting for me! They went to BED!”

 

------Justin’s Point of View -------

 

He yanks one of the chains, trying to gesture in his frustration, but the chains keep him where he is.

 

“They hurt you, too,” I say.

 

“Damn right! Fuck -- god when Jack dislocated my shoulder it fucking HURT like a son of a bitch and he made me fucking LIE to cover fucking HIS tracks!”

 

He’s struggling again, slightly, paying little attention to the restraints.

 

“Did you lie for them a lot?”

“Fucking ALL THE TIME. To teachers. To friends. To doctors. To nurses. FUCK. Spent all my time trying to make them sound like THEY were FUCKING innocent! Those fucking bastards got to be the fucking innocent ones,” he says, his voice harsh and loud. He yanked hard against his arm restraints, then did it again. They didn’t give.

 

“What sorts of things couldn’t you do because of them?” I ask, guessing at what sort of things would trigger the responses he needed to have.

 

He lets out a puff of air and the words explode from his mouth. Each item on the list is punctuated by a rough, strong tug against his arm restraints.

 

“I couldn’t go to school sometimes, because I was so bruised. So fucking BEATEN that no lie could hide what they did. I missed field trips. I missed parties. I missed school plays. Soccer games. I missed birthday parties for my friends. I missed so many fun things and spent my time at home -- WITH THEM. Watching Joanie drink. Having her passed out in bed fucking next to me. FUCK THAT,” he said fiercely, pulling again and again on the chains, trying hard to lash out.

 

“How did you even survive, Brian?” I ask, voice soft.

 

“Fucking doing everything myself! My own homework. By myself. In my room. Making my own dinner! Fucking trying to make Joanie eat sometimes! FUCK… I don’t remember them EVER taking care of me when I was sick. I don’t remember them EVER asking me about school. Not my grades, my report card. NOTHING.” 

He’s struggling against the restraints, pulling them taut.

 

“What they did to you is so unfair. They made you do what no child should do. Made you suffer and grow up too soon,” I say, voicing my thoughts.

 

He swallows and I see his face flushed in rage.

 

“UNFAIR. UNFAIR! UNFAIR IS A TRAFFIC TICKET,” he booms, “What they did is -- is --”

 

He can’t find any words.  He begins to struggle and pull against the chains in earnest, in rage.

 

I can see the strength of his pulling, his thrashing, but he goes no where. He groans in his frustration, wanting more movement.

 

The frustration builds, it adds on to the frustration he has, the anger, about his past.

 

“Why did they fucking do this to me! And I still am paying for it now, feeling it now! FUCK IT,” he says, kicking  and waving his arms vehemently against the restraints, making the bed frame squeak as it contained him.

 

I don’t say anything else. I just watch as he yells and curses and, eventually, cries, and fights and fights and fights against the chains.

 

-----------Brian’s Point of View----------

 

Oh my god, I’m so FUCKING PISSED!

 

The anger -- god it’s taking me over. Thinking about it all. Years piled upon years of neglect and abuse and lies.

 

FUCK, it’s consuming me, I swear, I can’t control it much more. I really can’t, REALLY FUCKING CAN’T!

 

----------------Justin’s Point of View ------------

 

He struggles -- really fights -- for a long time. Almost an hour, pulling as hard as he can. Frustrated, livid. A torrent.

 

I stay and watch and sometimes I whisper, “I’m here,” so he knows I am still here. That I’m watching. That I’m with him. That I’m here for him.

 

That I’m a witness to what he’s going through.

 

After about an hour he stops. He collapses, body clearly exhausted from the struggle. His face is wet with tears. His breathing is heavy. His body is slick with sweat.

 

I kiss his lips softly. He kisses me back softly.

 

I undo the ankle cuffs.

 

I stretch out his legs and he sighs.

 

I undo the handcuffs and he wraps his arms around me.

 

Then I move between his legs and lick his cock. He shudders and is soon hard in my mouth. He spreads his thighs for me and weaves his fingers through my hair.

 

When I feel him getting close, I move off of him. I crawl up and push on his shoulder.

 

He understands and rolls over.

 

-------Brian’s Point of View -----

 

I am more exhausted than I have ever been. Physically, emotionally, mentally.

 

And Justin’s body is covering mine.

 

He has pillows under me, holding me up so I can relax.

 

His warm fingers are wet and slippery, and they’re slowly fucking me, filling my body with sensation, filling me with a growing need to come.

 

Then he puts his head close to my ear and positions his cock at my entrance, wet and ready for him. Needing him.

 

I need him so bad, and I am so…needing. So needy. So tired. So empty.

 

God, Justin, fill me up.

 

-------Justin’s Point of View --------

 

“I’m here, Brian. I saw everything. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much,” I say as I push myself slowly inside him, feeling him opening for me with effort.

 

He groans and shudders under me. I don’t know how much is physical and how much emotional, or if there is a difference.

 

--------Brian’s Point of View ---------

 

He fucks me slowly. Fills me and leaves me, fills me and leaves me, brushing against my prostate. Letting the feelings build, thin layer by thin layer. Letting me feel each incremental change in my body and his as we get closer to orgasm.

 

I’m moaning and sighing and flying when I come. I feel Justin coming, too. In my haze I imagine he’s really filling me.

 

When it’s over Justin pulls out gently and spoons me.

 

“I’m here, Beautiful. I’m always here for you.”

 

I’m not even aware of my body as I fall asleep.

 

 

 

Chapter End Notes:

I want to thank everyone for their huge welcome back and show of support after Chapter 34! It has been amazing to hear from everyone, about the story and about work. I really do love the students I work with and I don't see it as a heroic job, but this year proves to be one that will teach me a lot! And knowing I have your support helps tremendously too. So thank you!

I hope you like this chapter and that the plot is woven in clearly enough that it stands through the porn aspect! I'm excited to hear what you think of the chapter and Justin's response. :)

 

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