Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction

Andrew glanced over at his friend, still a little amazed that he was actually walking alongside him. The feel of the man's warm skin under his hand, however, confirmed that he was. Until that precise moment, had hadn't quite realized just how much he had missed his former roommate; now that he was finally reunited with him, his heart was beating furiously with excitement and anticipation. He couldn't wait to take Justin somewhere quiet so they could talk privately and he could tell the other man just how he felt. And the fact the Justin was now living, at least temporarily, with his mother made him even more hopeful that his friend was finally out from under Kinney's control.

He was a little concerned, however, about how quiet Justin was being; since they had initially been reunited a short while ago, he had barely said anything else. He hoped that once they arrived at his rental car and gotten in, perhaps Justin would begin to open up to him about what was going on, and what had happened since they had said goodbye a few weeks ago. There was so much Andrew wanted to know about him, and in return, so much he wanted to say.

"Over here," Andrew told his friend softly, as he took his upper arm and gently led him over to a cherry red Mustang.

Justin noticed the flashy car's appearance and looked over at him questioningly. Andrew had always talked about how hard it was to survive by himself on a resident's salary, especially after his former roommate had moved out, so this seemed fairly extravagant for him.

Andrew smiled in understanding at Justin's silent question. "I wish," he said. "It's just a rental. Better enjoy it while you can, Mr. Taylor," he kidded him good naturedly. He noticed his friend smiling slightly as he nodded, but it seemed like a hollow type of smile, not the smile he had seen him show only rarely before. There was definitely something bothering his friend, and he was determined to learn what it was.

Justin silently swung the heavy passenger door open and climbed in as Andrew joined him behind the driver's seat. The sounds of the street traffic and bystanders became noticeably muted, allowing him to hear the sound of Justin's soft breathing in the quiet interior. Now that they were finally alone, he was able to take a closer look at his friend and couldn't help noticing the tired lines on his face and the tracks of previously-shed tears still slightly staining his cheeks. Whatever had just happened to his friend, he obviously hadn't been happy about it.

"Where are we going?" Justin asked him softly. He wrung his hands as if he were either upset or nervous; Andrew wasn't sure which.

"I thought we'd go back to my hotel room so we can talk in private," he told Justin, his heart beating fast at the prospect. "Is that okay with you?" Despite his fervent hope that the two of them could be more than just friends, he was going to take Justin back to the hotel room and do just that – talk. At least initially; his hope was that eventually Justin would return his feelings of attraction for him and they could be much more than friends. He could tell, however, that the blond was upset about something that had happened, and he did not want to add to his troubles; rather he hoped that he would be able to lighten his load somewhat by telling him how special he thought he was and how much he cared for him. Perhaps Justin wanted to begin a new chapter in his life and leave all the pain and sorrow associated with his memory loss behind him – at least he hoped so.

Justin huffed out a ragged breath of air as he leaned his head against the cool glass of the vehicle and closed his eyes. "Yeah," he whispered as he nodded slightly. Right now all he wanted to was to get away from this place – away from Brian, Daphne, and the ghost of Babylon, where he and Brian had experienced pleasure as well as pain, experiences that for the most part he had completely forgotten. At the moment, he didn't care where he was as long as it was away from here.

Andrew glanced over at his friend, whose body was leaning toward the window; he could tell Justin's eyes were closed but his face was shadowed with pain. He took his hand off the steering wheel to reach over to Justin to comfort him, but he stopped just before he could feel the warm flesh. As much as he longed to touch him again, he sensed that Justin needed some space at the moment. There would be time later at the hotel room to hopefully determine what had happened to him and why he was so quiet and withdrawn.

His hotel room at the downtown Ritz was thankfully not far from there; he managed to successfully navigate the somewhat confusing maze of streets in short shrift and slowed the car to a stop in front of the hotel's valet station.

As he reached to unlatch his seatbelt, he observed Justin start a little as he realized they had stopped; he watched as he wiped his hand across his face to jolt the sleepiness aside before he slowly reached to free himself from the seatbelt and alight from the car when the valet opened the passenger door.

Getting out of the driver's side, Andrew walked around the car to join Justin on the sidewalk. He noticed his friend standing there, looking somewhat dazed at his surroundings, before he gently took his elbow to help guide him inside. He looks like some fragile newborn deer or something, Andrew thought sadly. "Come on," he softly urged his friend as they walked through the revolving doors of the hotel's opulent lobby.

Justin looked around, transfixed by all the bright lights and dark, polished rosewood of the front desk as Andrew continued to guide him toward the stainless steel elevator doors. He paused to punch the "up" button and stood next to the blond as they waited for their car, stealing an occasional, concerned glance at his friend, who remained strangely quiet. What has hurt you so much, my friend? The ding signaling the impending arrival of the elevator car finally sounded as the doors swung open and the two of them found themselves thankfully alone.

"It's on the 14th floor," Andrew explained to the blond, not quite sure why he said that. It didn't really matter where his room was – he guessed he just needed to try and make some polite conversation to help lighten Justin's mood, but it didn't seem to be helping. The silence in the elevator car on the way up was awkward, even for them, as Justin continued to simply stand there as if he were in a trance. This brooding, pensive man was definitely not the vivacious, witty blond he had known before. Even when Justin was occasionally upset by his inability to remember his past and needed to be comforted, he had still at other times managed to carry on a fairly lively discussion with him over all types of subjects – his art, Andrew's work, the recipes he wanted to try out on him. Now it was like pulling teeth to get him to say more than a few words at a time.

The car finally slowed to a stop and the doors slid open onto a hallway carpeted with a plush, burgundy shag as he placed his hand lightly on Justin's middle back and guided him down the hallway to their right. He stopped at the very last door at the end and fit the plastic key card into the slot to open it. Holding the door open for Justin to enter, he flipped on the living area side table lamps as he followed Justin into the main area of the suite.

He watched as Justin tentatively looked around before his eyes settled on a pair of glass French doors that led to a private, outdoor balcony. He slowly walked over to look at the twinkling view of Pittsburgh's downtown skyline for several seconds before he reached to open the doors and swung them out to breathe in the cooling nighttime air.

Andrew followed closely behind, in time to hear the mournful sigh that escaped his friend's lips. He couldn't take it any longer as he walked over to stand directly behind the shorter man and place both hands on the slim, slightly drooping shoulders. "Justin," he began softly. "You're obviously upset. Please talk to me," he beseeched him. He was horrified a few seconds later to hear his friend crying softly and to feel his shoulders shaking slightly as a torrent of pent-up emotion came bursting forth from him like gushing water flowing from a dam. Andrew gently turned the other man around and enfolded him in a firm hug as his arms wrapped themselves around the other man's back in a comforting embrace. He felt Justin place his head against his chest and slowly place his hands on his back, also, as he continued to cry softly and felt the wetness of the blond's tears begin to soak through his shirt in short order.

Andrew soothingly stroked his friend's back as the two men stood embracing for several minutes, neither speaking, until Justin's crying gradually ebbed and his breathing slowly returned to a more normal pace.

As he finally broke away from Andrew's embrace, he moved his hands from behind his friend's back to wipe the tears from his face. "You must think I'm acting like some scared, fucking child," Justin told him, embarrassed, as he turned to place his hands on the metal, wrought-iron railing and face out onto the twinkling lights below.

"I don't think that at all," he could hear Andrew answer softly from behind him. "I think you're confused, you're upset, and you're angry at what's happened," he said. "No one could blame you for that, though, Justin – not after what you've been through."

Justin turned to face his friend. "What about everyone else, though, Andrew? My mom, my friends…..Brian," he whispered. Brian most of all. The man had done nothing wrong but love him, want to be with him, even agree to start over if they had to. He had been nothing but supportive since he had found him in Harrisburg. And how did he pay him back? By telling him he wanted to be alone, he needed space, he needed time to think. That's how he thanked him for what he had done the past few weeks? He shook his head in disgust; he didn't deserve to be loved, not the way he is right now – the way he will always be.

"Justin, I'm sure everyone understands how hard this has been on you," Andrew told him gently. "No one could blame you for being hurt and confused. This isn't some temporary disease that you can take a pill for and recover from. This is a serious brain injury."

"Yeah, I know," Justin told him a little sharply; he certainly didn't have to be told what it was. He had lived it for the past few weeks now. And he knew what it was costing him, what it was costing everyone who cared about him, especially Brian. "I know exactly what it IS, Andrew. It's cost me my whole fucking LIFE, and the one man I loved."

Andrew pursed his lips to bite back the reply he desperately wanted to say – that Brian wasn't worthy of his love. But he knew that would not sit well with his friend – despite the fact that Justin could not remember much about his and Brian's relationship, he apparently still felt some jaded sense of obligation to the other man to try and restore their bond; hence the guilt he was now experiencing. But he had to convince Justin, for both their sakes, that once something was broken, it couldn't be fixed – it was time to forge a new life and move on, hopefully with HIM.

"Justin…God knows you've tried to recover what you've lost; I know you saw Dr. Keller the other day," he told the blond, who looked over at him in surprise.

"How did you know that?" Justin asked him, a little suspiciously.

Andrew grimaced, trying to put the best slant on that statement. "He…..called me before you were due to come in to get the background information on your treatment in Harrisburg," he explained; after all, it was the truth. He just didn't tell him that Dr. Keller had also shared some information with him – not only Justin's unfortunate prognosis, but also his current whereabouts. "He wanted all your treatment results before he saw you."

Justin nodded, apparently somewhat mollified by the statement. "Well, he didn't tell me anything different than what you and everyone else had been telling me – that I wasn't going to get my memory back." He picked up a medium-sized rock on the floor of the balcony and angrily threw it to the asphalt far below. "I am so fucking TIRED of seeing doctors and hearing the same old thing – that I'd just better get used to it, that it's gone and not coming back, that they don't know enough about the brain to be able to help me. How am I supposed to move on from here?" he cried in disgust, his hands balled into fists of frustration.

Andrew's heart went out to his friend over his lament of loss. He couldn't help what was in the past, but he could help him shape his future – if he would only let him. "I…I can't change what has happened, Justin….but I'd like to help you move on, if you would let me," he told his friend softly.

Justin turned to face him curiously. "And how do you propose to do that, Andrew?"

"Justin – I know your inability to not remember is upsetting to you – it would be upsetting to anyone. But you still have this amazing talent with your art, and except for your memory loss, your body has healed from its external, physical injuries. You have an amazing future ahead of you, Justin! And I'd like to take that journey with you," he said softly. "If you'd let me."

"What are you saying, Andrew?" Justin asked him as the blue eyes gazed at him pointedly.

Andrew took a breath to gather his courage to be upfront and totally frank with this man; Michelle had told him it was time to be completely honest with this amazing artist who had captivated him from the start. "I…..I told you a long time ago that I was attracted to you, Justin," he began. "But I wasn't totally honest with you." He watched while Justin continued to stare at him intently as he took a steadying breath. Time to be blunt here, Bradley, and let the cards fall where they may. It was TIME. "I…I'm falling in love with you, Justin," he admitted finally. "Totally and deeply in love with you. I think you are one of the most incredible men I have ever had the honor to meet and I would like nothing better than for us to get to know each other better – to be partners eventually. I'd like for you to come back with me to Harrisburg – back to our apartment." Before Justin had a chance to respond, he marched ahead. "I know your mother is here in Pittsburgh and so are all your friends. I promise that as soon as my residency is over, if you want, we can move back here. I'll go wherever it will make you happy."

Justin's mouth fell open; he knew Andrew liked him, was attracted to him, but in love with HIM? He wanted him to move back IN with him? His head felt like it was spinning – this was NOT what he had expected. "That's why you're here?" he asked his former roommate. Just when he thought things couldn't get any more complicated, now there was THIS.

Andrew nodded simply. "Yes…..I actually had a seminar here scheduled for this Thursday and Friday, but it was mainly just an excuse to find you and talk to you about how I felt," he told the other man honestly. The blond began to trail alongside the metal railing restlessly as Andrew continued to pour his heart out to him. "I couldn't get you out of my mind from the moment you left the apartment," he whispered to him, just barely being able to be understood over the rapidly croaking sounds of the crickets beginning to chirp in the ever-increasing darkness. "Justin…..I know I could make you happy – if you would only give us a chance. I don't care about your past – I care about YOU; about who you are now. I want to make sure you're happy for the rest of your life – for the future. Even with your memory loss after the accident, there were a lot of moments in the apartment in Harrisburg when you were actually happy. I want you to be that way all the time and I know I could help you achieve that – if you'll let me. Please, Justin." He wasn't above begging if it would get what he wanted – who he wanted: Justin.

Justin closed his eyes as his heart pounded from bewilderment and confusion. Just what did he want? Or more importantly, what could he have? A life with Andrew – a man who apparently cherished him and loved him, who wanted him to be happy; who would be willing to accept him as he WAS and not even care about what happened to him in the past. Or a life with Brian – a man who also loved him dearly, who had been so diligent in trying to help him remember his past, and who had never left his side since their unexpected reunion. A man who, despite their apparently extremely sexual, sensual past, hadn't pushed him for more intimacy and who had almost sacrificed his very successful business to try and help him recover. "Andrew….Brian has done so much for me, almost even risked his ad agency for me. I could never repay him what I owe."

Andrew pressed on determinedly. "But is what you feel love, Justin, or obligation? Yeah, he's apparently been good to you," Andrew grudgingly admitted. "And yeah, he was your partner." Andrew felt the sour taste in his mouth as he tripped over that word. "But that was in the PAST – I'm offering you a future filled with love and commitment every day. Justin, if you would only let me, I would spend every day of our lives together making you happy. I want a partner who I can tell things to, come home to, and have picnics on the floor with," he told the other man, smiling tenderly.

Justin narrowed his forehead as another odd sense of déjà vu washed over him; why did that statement hit a nerve with him? It sounded so heavenly, so romantic; why, then, did he feel dirty and guilty all of a sudden? His head started to pound – this was all too much. He placed his hands at his temple as he scrunched up his face and closed his eyes tightly, suddenly feeling dizzy. "Justin?" he heard Andrew calling him as if from a distance.

He slowly opened his eyes as he felt the other man's hands on his shoulders, clutching him in concern. "What is it?" he asked him, his green eyes peering at him worriedly.

Justin firmly disengaged from the other man's hold and shook his head as he began to back away from the other man. "I…I can't deal with this right now, Andrew. I can't DO this. I don't know what I want. But I know I can't handle this right now."

Andrew began to walk slowly toward him; he had to make Justin understand how much he meant to him, and he much he wanted to make him happy. "Justin…..please. Won't you at least try to give us a chance? I love you – I only want to make you happy. I know I can," he pleaded. He knew he was starting to almost turn into a whimpering, lovesick puppy over this man, but he didn't care. He had to make him understand. "Justin….stay with me. Come back with me to Harrisburg, and I promise I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy."

Justin bit back another round of tears tempting to fall from his eyes again; he couldn't take any more emotional turmoil right now and his head was pounding from this latest heartfelt revelation from Andrew, the man he had befriended and had depended upon for so much right after the accident. How could he break this man's heart, too? But just what did he want? He was so tired – so tired of trying to remember what had happened to him and the past he couldn't recall – the love he should feel for Brian, for his mother, for his friends. So tired.

"I…..I'm sorry, Andrew," he told the other man softly, his eyes shining with his unshed tears. "I…..can't do this," he told him as he turned to re-enter the doctor's lavish suite and stride toward the door. "I have to go," he decided as he started to turn the knob to leave.

Andrew was frantic over Justin's hurry to leave and worried about his emotional state. "Justin! Don't leave yet. I promise I won't push you…..please stay a little longer." He was extremely disappointed over his failure to convince Justin to stay with him permanently, but he wasn't ready to give up yet. He desperately wanted the other man to at least stay a while longer in an attempt to convince him the two of them belonged together. He could feel his chances slowly slipping away as he watched Justin preparing to leave, perhaps for good.

"Justin – please!" Andrew was practically begging now; he couldn't bear for this man to leave him again. As Justin started to turn the door knob, Andrew placed his hand over his; he was startled when the blond roughly pushed backward against his body and caused him to stagger backward. He barely managed to catch himself from falling by grabbing the open, louvered utility closet door nearby.

Justin's mouth fell open as he realized with horror what he had done, how he had reacted toward the man who had helped him to recover after his accident. What was WRONG with him? "I'm…sorry, Andrew…so sorry," he cried before he wrenched the door open and tumbled out. Andrew's cries for him to come back finally faded from his ears as he found the nearby door indicating the location of the stairs; not waiting for the elevator, he flung the door open and began to run as fast as he could down the multiple levels of steps, his tears now running unabated down his cheeks as he mourned the loss of his friend, his past, Brian. He had no idea where he was going – he just kept furiously running down the steps, away from the pressure of Andrew's entreaty, away from his lost memories, away from his fucking life.

  


 

Brian's Loft – 2:00 a.m.

 

Brian sat hunched down over the couch, a half-empty bottle of Beam in his hand, his glassy eyes not focusing on anything in particular. He had arrived from his club about an hour ago, early by most standards, still clothed in his blue jeans and sleeveless black button-down shirt. He was so tired at the moment, it was all he could do to take his shoes and socks off and unbutton the lone button on his jeans. He thought back to the evening's results at the club. Thanks to a major advertising campaign drummed up by yours truly, along with heavy marketing of it by newspapers, radio, and printed posters displayed at gay-frequented shops and restaurants, the grand opening of the new Pulse dance club had been a giant, rousing, big, fat, fucking success. Hooray.

So why did he feel so empty? So unhappy? So fucking lonely? Of course, he already knew the answer to that question – it was because the man he loved wasn't with him – Justin. For at least the hundredth time tonight, he wondered where he was. He had called Jennifer, trying his best to be nonchalant when he had asked her if she had seen her son lately, and he had simply managed in not only worrying himself when she said she hadn't seen him, but also worrying her now, too. He hadn't returned to his mom's condo, the Liberty Diner, Daphne's, or any of the other haunts that he had shown his partner during their recent motor coach tour. He had even called the caretaker who took care of the horses at Britin to make sure Justin hadn't somehow found his way over there, and he was told the man hadn't seen him. So just where the fuck was he?

He refused to even consider the one possibility that filled him with the most dread – had that arrogant doctor, Bradley, somehow managed to convince Justin to run off with him back to Harrisburg? In the fragile state his partner was in, he supposed anything was possible, even that option. But he refused to believe that even in Justin's confused, unhappy state, he still would leave with that man. Except for a couple of week of living together, the two did not have any past together, certainly not the past that the two of them had shared. Did that somehow, however, make that idea more attractive to his partner?

Brian sighed to himself. Yes, even now he couldn't deny it – he still thought of Justin as his partner. He still loved the man, damn it. Justin could be downright annoying as hell right now, and he was getting so tired of trying to restore what they had lost, and so tired of trying to reassure Justin of what he meant for him, but he just couldn't give up. There was too much at stake. Yes, he had told Daphne he was tired of chasing after him; but did he really have any other choice? He had never been in love before, and he knew deep down Justin was it. He was his soulmate. There would never be another for him. If he couldn't have Justin's love, he would never allow any other man to touch his heart ever again. He eyed the lukewarm, amber liquid in the bottle of Beam in his hand; whatever happened, it wasn't going to help him to drown in yet another bottle of bourbon. He raked a long-fingered hand through his mussed hair and jumped as he heard a loud pounding on his door. What the fuck? He was going to have to have a chat with his landlord over how people kept managing to enter the front door without authorization as he heard his persistent, would-be visitor continuing to pound relentlessly on the steel door.

"Fuck off!" he yelled in extreme aggravation; he was physically and mentally exhausted from the events of the past day. The last thing he wanted was to entertain some lovelorn trick or drunken bum at his doorstep. "Go away!" The frantic pounding on the door, unfortunately, continued. Was this person deaf or did they just have a fucking death wish? He finally slammed the bottle of Beam down on the wooden floor and rose to stomp over to the door. "What the fuck do you want?" he snapped loudly as he irritatingly slid the door aside violently to find his late-night caller standing there.

He was shocked to the core as he opened the door to find Justin. His face was red and flushed, streaked with wet tears; his shirt was partially unbuttoned and the tail was sticking half-in, half-out of his jeans. His hair was tousled in all directions and he was hiccupping from the sobs that escaped his throat.

All thoughts of giving up on restoring their relationship and talks of bravado about accepting reality instantly melted away as Justin practically fell into his outstretched arms and tightly wound his arms around his waist. "Justin," Brian murmured, alarmed, as the blond burrowed into him. "What happened? Did that fucker hurt you?" he demanded, his heart dropping at the thought of someone harming his partner. "Justin…..Did he?" If you've done something to him, Bradley, you're a fucking dead man. "Justin….Tell me," Brian pressed him urgently. "Did that Bradley HURT you?" He grabbed Justin by the shoulders, gently but firmly, almost forcefully having to pull Justin back enough to look him in the eye. As Justin continued to sniff and hiccup with his soft sobs, Brian took his right hand and took his partner's chin to force the blond to look up at him. "Justin…..Fucking answer me," he growled adamantly.

Justin closed his eyes as if in pain but Brian breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the blond shake his head. "No…" he heard his partner whisper. "No," he assured him.

Brian, then, was puzzled. Just what had gotten him so upset? "Then what is it?" he asked him tenderly, still worried. Justin's emotional distraught state was extremely worrisome; he had never seen his partner this upset before. "What's wrong?" Maybe he had remembered something terrible….the bashing? My cancer? "Did you remember something?" he asked him, concerned.

That question for some reason simply served to make Justin even more upset; he shook his head almost violently as the tears began to flow even more freely down his face. "No," he choked, as his hands now began to wind themselves up around Brian's neck. Nothing important... "I don't want to remember," he said, his voice hitching in between his sobs.

"What are you talking about, Justin?" Brian pressed him. He didn't want to remember?

"No," Justin repeated just barely above a whisper, but his voice had taken on a pleading tone. He began to pull Brian's head down to his as he begged him, "Make me forget, Brian." He brushed his lips against the brunet's, producing a moan of desire. "Make me forget," he repeated longingly, as he briefly allowed Brian to come up for air only to crash his lips down on Brian's again. Brian could feel Justin's hands begin to frantically unbutton his shirt now as he began to nuzzle Brian's neck to nip and lick at his tender flesh.

"Justin…stop," Brian whispered breathlessly, as he reached to grasp his partner's slender hands in his own. "You don't want to do this," he told him. God, he wanted him so badly, so much. It had been so long. He could feel his body instantly beginning to respond to his partner's achingly familiar touch. If he didn't convince him to stop immediately, it would be too late, because he wanted him more than he ever did. He had dreamed of this moment for so long now.

"Justin….." he began again, as Justin ignored his attempts at restoring sensibility. He shook his head as he pulled Brian's hands away from his and finished unbuttoning the last of the shirt's buttons; he used this fact to his advantage as his hands immediately begin to stroke Brian's chest, settling on the brunet's now rigid nipples. Justin's tongue come out to begin licking a trail from the side of Brian's face down his clavicle and then onto his chest as his hands began to unzip Brian's jeans.

Brian moaned as his hands travelled now to plant themselves in Justin's hair to fondle it; he was helpless to prevent what was going to happen here. His willpower was totally depleted now; he had patiently waited for weeks for the chance to make love to his partner again, and although he had told Justin he would not make love to him in their bed again until he saw the same look of love in his eyes that he had always carried for HIM, he just couldn't hold out any longer. He wanted him, he NEEDED him. God, he had to HAVE this man. "Justin….." he whispered reverently. He hated himself for using Justin this way, but he just couldn't help it.

As soon as Justin had managed to successfully pull Brian's jeans and briefs down his long legs, his mouth made a beeline for his partner's now fully erect and leaking cock. Brian moaned in pleasurable, exquisite release as he finally felt his partner's experienced, well-practiced lips surround his shaft and begin to suckle him. He felt Justin's hands wrap themselves around his thighs as he held tightly on to the blond's shoulders for dear life. The old, familiar feeling, the pent-up emotion held in check for so long, was threatening to quickly overwhelm him and he knew he wouldn't last long at all at Justin continued to play him so expertly. He could feel Justin's teeth lightly rake across the length of his cock and his tongue lick the underside just seconds before he came with a heart wrenching shout and an explosive climax like nothing he had ever felt before, even with this man. "Oh, God!" he cried out as his body continued to shudder form the mind blowing precision of his partner's ministrations; his knees sagged from the aftermath of the emotional onslaught Justin had so masterfully produced. If it hadn't been for Justin catching his lower body to keep him propped up, he would have simply fallen down to the floor just like a rubber, spineless jellyfish.

Justin wasn't finished with his therapy, however; he slowly climbed up Brian's now thoroughly-sated body as his mouth continued to trail light kisses higher and higher – over his thighs, his stomach, and up over his chest before crashing down once again on the brunet's mouth as his tongue demanded and was granted entrance; he tightly held Brian's head in his heads as he angled his own head for a deeper penetration. The heady feelings he was engendering in Brian almost made the brunet dizzy with desire as he felt his cock began to unbelievably harden once more at his partner's almost violent sensual assault. "Brian…..fuck me," Justin growled seductively, as he finally had to come up for breath himself from their lengthy kiss. He began to pull Brian by the arms toward their bed. "Fuck me, Brian," he repeated almost desperately as he began to again nuzzle Brian's neck and chest with his lips as he murmured against his quivering skin.

"God, Justin," Brian cried out as the emotions welled up in him and he felt himself becoming extremely aroused simply by his partner's sexy voice. He knew Justin was using him in some ironic way to dull his pain; any other time, he would have been ecstatic to fuck his partner senseless all night long. So why did this someone feel so wrong? How could making love to his partner ever be wrong? Damn it – didn't he want it? Didn't Justin want it as well? Yes – but for what reason? "Justin….." he tried one more time to make his partner see reason before he was inexplicably, irretrievably lost, drowning in a sensory flood of pent-up emotions.

"Shh," Justin cooed. "Make love to me, Brian. Make me forget. Please…," he begged as he broke free from their embrace and began to unbutton his own jeans. Brian couldn't tear his eyes away from the slender body he knew and loved so well as Justin quickly lifted his arms and roughly yanked his long-sleeved tee shirt over his head to expose the creamy, lightly-fuzzed pale skin of his chest. He quickly stepped out of his shoes and bent over to pull his jeans and briefs down his legs to finally stand completely nude in front of the lust-filled, darkening hazel eyes of his partner, whose breath hitched in his throat at the familiar and beautiful, but so-forbidden sight up until now. Justin smiled a little, almost shyly, at his partner's almost immediate response to his body as he sat down on the edge of their bed. He hurriedly scooted back on his elbows and hands until his frame was toward the front of the bed. Taking one last long look at the brunet, he finally lay down completely on the bed, his legs raised with his feet planted firmly at the bed's end. "Fuck me, Brian," he growled as his spread his legs apart wantonly.

This was too much for a man who had spent the last several years worshiping the blond's familiar, tantalizing body over and over again and who had now been deprived of that pleasure for so, so long now. As Justin's pleading eyes shined through his tears and his lips quivered in anguish, Brian let out a loud groan of defeat and practically fell on top of the blond. As his lips ravaged his partner's, and his hands began to roam possessively over the soft, pale skin, his last sane thought was of the battle for sanity and restraint that he now knew he had unequivocally lost.

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