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

** As always, our eternal gratitude to our wonderful betas eureka1, Gloria and Alison **

 

 

April 2002, Bloom Gallery, 7 p.m...

 

“I’m really sorry, Justin,” Daphne repeated for what felt like the millionth time.

 

Justin groaned, exasperated, slumping in his chair. “Stop worrying. It’s not your fault you have an exam. You’ve studied for weeks, and I don’t want you to fuck up your chances because of me.”

 

“But I’m letting you down.” Daphne insisted.

 

“You’re not. I’ll be fine. You said you’ve found some help for me.” Justin reassured her. He hated for Daphne to feel so protective of him, as she had ever since that fateful night. She had been working so hard for the past months; she couldn’t afford to fail.

 

“Yeah, I found an escort company. These people are professionals who are used to this kind of situation.” Daphne confirmed. Her voice broke slightly as she reached out to stroke his hair, professing, “I’m so proud of you...in case I didn’t mention it before.”

 

Justin smiled, taking her hand. “Thank you so much. I doubt I’d be here if I didn’t have you around to kick my ass.”

 

“Anytime,” Daphne squeezed his hand back. Releasing Justin, she cleared her throat and stood up from her chair, informing him, “I’ll go outside for a few minutes. I need a smoke. Want to come?”

 

“Nah. I’m good. I need some time for myself before the show, anyway,” Justin declined, straightening his sunglasses.

 

“Okay. I’ll be back in a few,” Daphne informed him, giving him a kiss on the cheek before walking out of the lounge, leaving Justin alone with his thoughts.

 

Justin tried not to think too much about why he was here, or he feared that the immensity of the situation would crash down on him. In less than an hour, the doors of the Bloom Gallery would open, and people would come especially to see his paintings.

 

After everything he’d been through, he had never imagined himself in this position. Not only was Pittsburgh filled with many artists, but Lindsay Peterson had also overlooked his disability in order to offer him the opportunity to display his work in a known gallery. She genuinely thought that he was talented enough to be here. Justin remembered that rainy day a few months ago, when he’d been out grocery shopping with Daphne and a hell of a storm had made them take refuge in the gallery. At first, Justin hadn’t liked the idea of being there. It had reminded him of his own passion for drawing, a passion that had been cut short by his accident; but now, he was so grateful he had walked into the place.

 


 

Flashback, October 2001…

 

Daphne and Justin rushed into the gallery as the storm began to strike the city, dark, threatening clouds covering the sky. Once inside, Daphne managed to convince Justin to stay and walk around the place. Justin reluctantly agreed since they had nothing better to do although, truthfully, he would have preferred to leave or just wait for the pouring rain to stop. Resisting his best friend when he had no valid excuse was not something Justin wanted to do, though. He owed Daphne too much not to try to please her once in a while.

 

He therefore let Daphne lead him towards the large paintings adorning one wall, pleasantly surprised to realize he could discern some raw, colorful, broad strokes, even though it was difficult for him to admire art he couldn’t really see. However, he still responded emotionally, almost able to grasp the essence of each piece of art.

 

Daphne helped him, describing the paintings more thoroughly, relating details. Thanks to her, he could imagine them in his mind.

 

He was about to comment on the portrait of a young, angry man when he heard a gentle voice speaking next to him.

 

“These are the best paintings I’ve seen in a long time. You should be very proud,” a woman’s voice stated. Justin realized that, whoever that woman was, she must be talking to the artist. He couldn’t help but listen more closely, curious as to how the painter was going to answer.

 

Sure enough, a deeper, feminine voice responded, “Enjoy then, because this may be my last show for a while. It took me years to complete these, Lindsay, and I doubt I will ever participate in an exhibition like this one again.”

 

Justin frowned, wondering why it had taken so long for that woman to finish her paintings. Not thinking about what he was doing, he blurted out, “I like your style. It feels raw and honest.”

 

Daphne stilled by his side, and Justin realized he had interfered in a private conversation.

 

He was about to apologize when the artist responded, “Thank you, young man. Do you like art?”

 

“Justin is an artist too,” Daphne spoke up.

 

“Not anymore,” Justin countered defensively, embarrassed. He turned to face the woman and was surprised when he didn’t discern a shape in front of himself. He focused harder, realizing he could distinguish someone sitting, immobile - probably in a wheelchair - and another person standing by her side.

 

“I’m Adrienne. And this is my friend Lindsay,” the artist introduced herself and her friend.

 

“Justin and Daphne,” he reciprocated.

 

“Now, what’s stopping a young man like you from painting?” Adrienne asked curiously. She might have guessed Justin’s disability since he never went out without his sunglasses hiding his injured eyes anymore, but she waited for him to elaborate nonetheless.

 

Daphne rubbed a hand over Justin’s shoulder, disclosing, “Justin had an… accident a few months ago. He can’t really see… or, barely.”

 

“Daph…” Justin chastised his best friend softly, hating how easily she spoke of his condition. He then addressed Adrienne, clarifying, “I can barely distinguish anything a few inches in front of me and, even then, I just see blurred shapes, shadows, but not much more. Moreover, focusing on something for too long gives me horrible headaches.” He sighed, rubbing his neck nervously.  Hesitating, he finally shared, “So… even though I love drawing, I really can’t do it anymore.”

 

Adrienne barked out a laugh. “How do you think I paint, being a tetraplegic who can only move the fingers of her more or less obedient right hand?” she asked with an amused voice, before answering her own question. “The way two snails fuck. Very slowly, with a brush attached to my arm. It took me three years to finish these seven paintings.”

 

“Really?” Justin was astounded by Adrienne’s revelation.

 

“Would you mind if I take a look at some of your stuff, Justin?” Lindsay intervened. “I majored in art, worked here as a curator until recently when family problems conflicted with my job, and I plan to return to work as soon as possible. But in the meantime, I would be glad to give you an honest opinion.”

 

“I don’t know…” Justin was surprised that Lindsay would offer such a thing. She didn’t even know him.

 

“Say yes, you idiot!” Daphne hissed, elbowing Justin in the ribs and making their companions laugh.

 

“Lindsay is a great judge, Justin. You should accept her help. Nothing is worth giving up on your art. And certainly NOT a disability, believe me,” Adrienne stated convincingly. “Haven’t you heard about John Bramblitt’s* works? The guy may be completely blind, but his art is phenomenal. Believe me when I say that most seeing artists are nearly not as talented as he is.”

 

Justin frowned, considering Adrienne’s words. He also was curious as to who this John Bramblitt was. If what Adrienne said was true, it was astonishing that this man could paint and earn a living from his passion.

 

Eventually, he relented. “Okay, maybe… I can show you some of my sketches, although I will be rusty since I haven’t tried to draw anything for a while.”

 

“How about you work on something, whatever you want, and we meet… say, in the next couple of weeks?” Lindsay proposed. “Here’s my card.”

 

Justin accepted the card. Congratulating Adrienne again, he and Daphne bid their goodbyes and left.

 

Later that day after they returned home, Justin locked himself into his room. He lay on his bed for a long time, reflecting on his encounter with Adrienne. He imagined what she looked like, how she used to move when she had full use of her limbs. And, for the first time in months, he felt the urge to grab a pencil and a piece of paper.

 

So, he did.




April 2002, Bloom Gallery, 7:30 p.m...

 

Now, six months later, nine of his drawings and paintings were prominently displayed in an exhibition at the Bloom Gallery. Justin was feeling reckless, his loud breathing betraying his anxiety, even though he knew, deep down, that this exhibition was already a victory over his disability.

 

Half an hour before the opening, Sidney Bloom himself walked into the small lounge adjacent to the main room where Justin was waiting for Daphne and his escort to join him. The gallery owner encouraged and congratulated Justin, praising his work, his words touching the blond deeply.

 

A minute later, a hand touched his shoulder, startling him.

 

“Sorry,” Daphne whispered in apology.

 

Directing his gaze up, Justin noticed someone standing next to her. “Who’s here?” he questioned.

 

“This is Brian; he’s going to assist you tonight,” Daphne announced, helping him up. “Brian, this is Justin, the best artist ever!” Daphne quipped cheerfully, and Justin felt her hand guide Brian’s around his arm. “As for me, I really have to go, so be careful, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Brian’s touch on Justin’s arm felt strangely soothing. Justin frowned, puzzled, before refocusing on his best friend. “Stop worrying. Just go, study, and ace that exam!”

 

“Love you!” Daphne exclaimed as she kissed his cheek before leaving in a rush.

 

Justin’s heartbeat increased. He could feel his palms burning and sweating as he tried to make out details of the man standing next to him, but all he could discern was a tall figure. He could also smell the intense fragrance of some expensive cologne, combined with a manly scent. Leaning closer to get another whiff of the delicious smell, Justin surprisingly felt his stomach coiling as arousal shot through him and his dick twitched in his tailored pants.

 

“So, you’re a big artist?” a velvety, honeyed voice asked, at last. The man’s breath washed over the side of Justin’s face, causing an involuntary shiver to ripple down his back.

 

“You’re a better judge than me. Look at my stuff and decide for yourself,” Justin responded. He was pleased that his voice didn’t shake.

 

“Ah, spoken like a true artist. Are you one of those pretentious snobs, who feigns not to love his own work in order to have people fawn over you, praise your work, and kiss your ass?” Brian inquired boldly.

 

Brian’s words threw him. How could the man mock him like that? Either he was a huge asshole, or Daphne hadn’t divulged anything about Justin’s sight problems. “Has Daphne told you anything?”

 

“About the fact that you’re a narcissistic little shit? No, she omitted that part,” Brian drawled sarcastically, Justin shaking his head at the man’s nerve.

 

“Don’t be so condescending. I really need you by my side. You’re going to be my eyes,” Justin revealed, absolutely hating admitting that part. He used to be an independent and carefree soul before his nemesis took his freedom away, and he hated having to rely on people as much as he did now.

 

“You mean, you can’t see?” Brian asked, the surprise evident in his voice.

 

“No, I’m simply doing a Stevie Wonder impersonation.” Justin was getting aggravated by this man. “So, here's what we're going to do,” he declared, taking a step back and trying to locate his chair. “Do you mind helping me?” he muttered, bitterly.

 

“Oh.” Brian guided him to the chair, helping him sit down. “You were saying?”

 

“When the show opens, you're going to stay by my side. We'll mingle and smile. If someone asks something about a specific drawing or painting, you're going to tell me its name. It's displayed on the card next to each frame. I know all of them, so unless the ones who placed the names made a mistake, I'll be able to talk about a specific piece to whomever is interested.”

 

“I see. Anything else?” Brian drawled.

 

“That’s about it.” They stood in silence for a short while, before Justin shifted uncomfortably. “One more thing,” he said quietly.

 

“What? Do you need to piss?” Brian inquired mockingly.

 

Justin snorted, deciding to focus on getting through the evening without sending his escort away. It was the smart course of action considering he needed him, even if he was going to have a long talk with Daphne after the exhibition was over. He had no idea where she'd found this man, but one thing he was sure of was that he was crass and had no manners. So far, the only good things about him were his smell and his touch, but those were irrelevant.

 

“Actually, what I wanted to say is that you'll have to help me home when the show is over,” Justin retorted sternly. He frowned as he thought he could distinguish the man’s head inclining to the side - it felt like Brian was smiling smugly at him.

 

In that moment, Justin decided not to let Brian know that he could see anything at all. Let him believe I’m blind as a bat, he thought, amused. It would surely play to his advantage.



 

Brian was pissed. He had planned to spend his evening with his son but, of course, Jeffrey had called to inform him that he had been booked. Justin Taylor, a nineteen-year-old artist - Jesus Christ, he was an escort, not a fucking babysitter - needed a puppet to play the pretty boy on his arm for the evening. So, now, he’d had to cancel his plans with Gus and ask Lindsay to stay home tonight because Melanie was out of town for a couple of days. This job was really going to be the death of him.

 

Except, he couldn’t afford to open his big mouth or he would find himself out of a job. Naturally, being an escort had never been a career plan and he would have never considered it before... but that was before, indeed. Amazing how a child’s serious disease could make any man change his perspective on what was or wasn’t acceptable.

 

Brian really couldn’t complain. The job wasn’t so bad; the pay was pretty good; and even the company of his clients was bearable most of the time. He didn’t even have to have sex if he didn’t want to, something he’d had trouble understanding at first. Really, what was the point of hiring an escort if you didn’t get laid at the end of the night? Brian had been amazed to once again discover how stupid some people were, preferring to engage a first-class, no-sex-guaranteed, but oh-so-classy escort for hundreds of dollars - what a joke - instead of going for a hustler who would charge them ten times less and ensure the client got the kind of satisfaction he really craved.

 

Well, it was their loss and his gain. The added benefit? He could still decide to fuck a client and earn a good bonus as a result.

 

When he arrived at the Bloom Gallery, he was greeted by a petite woman with milk-chocolate skin and curly chestnut hair, smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk. She looked pleased when she saw him, and Brian decided to entertain her for a while. He discovered that Daphne - that was her name - was the one who had hired him for her friend, an artist whose big opening was tonight. Brian aahed and oohed over her enthusiasm, but she must have been a smart cookie because she eventually gave him a warning look and told him that he needed to behave with her best friend and play the perfect gentleman during the show. Brian refrained from rolling his eyes over the Best Friend Forever card and smiled brightly at her instead.

 

They walked into the gallery and headed toward a small lounge. A young, blond man was sitting there, a pair of sunglasses on his nose. Brian couldn’t refrain from making a face this time, being careful that Daphne didn’t see his reaction. At the moment, he was more convinced than ever that the artist in question was not only young but also full of himself. Who would wear sunglasses in a gallery if not a pretentious prick? Although, now that he was getting closer to Justin Taylor, he was pleased to discover that he was easy on the eyes, if not his usual type. Brian would at least be able to get laid tonight. The thought was sufficient to brighten his mood.

 

“So, you’re a big artist?” Brian inquired as soon as Daphne left them on their own, trying hard to avoid being too sarcastic. He took his job seriously.

 

Right.

 

“You’re a better judge than me. Look at my stuff and decide for yourself.” Justin retorted sternly.

 

Brian had to remind himself that he needed to behave, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t respond to Justin with witty repartee of his own. If the boy wanted to play, he needed to understand who was the master here. “Ah, spoken like a true artist. Are you one of those pretentious snobs who feigns not to love his own work in order to have people fawn over you, praise your work, and kiss your ass?”

 

Okay. Maybe he’d really gone too far with that comment, considering the kid soon revealed that he had a problem with his sight, a serious problem, in fact. He was fucking blind.

 

Well done, Kinney.

 

So, Justin needed him by his side to be his eyes for the evening and, as the perfect escort he was, he also would have to go home with him after the show. Brian could live with that; it was what he was paid for, after all. And he wasn’t sure why exactly, but he couldn’t wait to fuck Justin Taylor. There was something about that kid that really turned him on.

 

All in all, this mission wasn’t so bad.



 

Bloom Gallery, 9 p.m…

 

Justin questioned the need to keep an arm around Brian’s. The man was inconsiderate at best, and he was really wondering how Daphne could have picked such an undisciplined escort. Weren’t they supposed to act like perfect gentlemen with the people who hired them?

 

Well, apparently, Brian hadn’t gotten the memo. After leading Justin to his paintings several times so he could discuss them with potential buyers, the man seemed to get bored - making lustful comments about the waiters he was very obviously ogling - so much so that Justin had to remind him that his job was to stay by his side and not to abandon him in the middle of the room. He soon realized he should have kept his mouth shut. He would rather have stood awkwardly in the gallery, bumping into unknown people in his quest for a safe place, instead of being dragged over to the refreshment table or having to stop when a staff member walked past them with a tray full of champagne glasses. He truly regretted not having brought his cane.

 

“Justin!” A familiar voice called out.

 

Sighing in relief, he turned in Sidney’s direction with a smile. “Mr. Bloom.”

 

“You’re a hit, my boy!” Sidney clapped Justin’s shoulder, making him stumble. Fortunately for him, Brian’s firm grip prevented him from falling. “Oh, and who is this? I had no idea you had a boyfriend,” the middle-aged man inquired, seemingly surprised, as he peered over at his companion.

 

Justin felt Brian’s arm slipping away and, for a short moment, he figured it was the man’s way of telling him that he didn’t like the idea of being mistaken for his boyfriend, but the thought had barely formed before he felt Brian wrapping his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. He couldn’t help but lean in then, the heavenly scent of the man soon invading his senses.

 

“It’s really new. We don’t want to jinx it,” Brian declared smugly.

 

Justin’s eyes widened, and he was grateful that his sunglasses partially hid his expression. Conversely, he didn’t need to see Brian’s face in order to understand that the man was probably grinning stupidly over his own lie.

 

He plastered a smile across his own face, too, wishing that he could witness Sidney’s reaction.

 

“Well… what can I say, except, good luck! You two make a beautiful couple,” Sidney unexpectedly stated before walking away, and Justin heard Brian chuckle quietly at his side.

 

Once they were alone again, Justin distanced himself from Brian. “What was that?” he asked, annoyed, even if he was also pleased that Brian had not freaked out over Sidney’s assumption. “What if he says something?”

 

“To whom? And more importantly, who cares?” Brian questioned before Justin felt him freeze next to him as he drawled, “Wait, don’t tell me... You’re not out.” The tone of his voice didn’t leave any doubt as to how he felt about closet cases.

 

“Cut it out!” Justin retorted immediately. “This has nothing to do with being out, so stop assuming you know everything when you don’t know shit. You’ll be doing both of us a favor.” He looked down briefly and softened his voice as he directed his gaze back at Brian. “I wouldn’t be here tonight, with you standing by my side, if I was some silly faggot afraid of what people would think of me just because I’m gay. That is not who I am.”

 

Justin could feel Brian’s intense stare on him. He was convinced that after his little outburst, his companion would just tell him to fuck off or, even worse, leave him standing right here without a second thought.

 

However, that was not what happened. Instead, Brian surprised him as he declared, “You’re not a silly faggot. In fact, you seem to be a talented young man. I can’t draw for shit but you painting without being able to see anything is fucking impressive.” The blond felt Brian come even closer to him, his breath caressing his face as he added, “I’m pretty sure you can fight your own battles without anyone ‘holding your hand’.” Brian paused, obviously questioning what he had just said. Sure enough, he clarified, “Well, you know what I mean.”

 

“You really think that?” Justin asked almost bashfully, not having expected Brian to treat him like a decent person.

 

“Sure.” Brian confirmed before adding, “You’re also a brat but, hey, no one’s perfect.”

 

Justin actually laughed out loud after that last remark. “No one has ever told you that being an escort meant that you have to please the client and act like a gentleman?”

 

“Where would be the fun in that?” Brian countered playfully, and Justin could hear the smile in his voice. “Believe it or not, I can be the perfect escort if I want to be.”

 

“Good to know. I was afraid you were suffering from a social disorder,” Justin quipped.

 

“Careful, little boy, or I will have to punish you for being disrespectful towards more… experienced human beings,” Brian responded, lowering his voice and whispering huskily in Justin’s ear, causing a shiver to course through his body.

 

Justin didn’t know why Brian’s innuendos affected him so much, except for the fact that it had been so long since a man had showed any interest in pursuing him. In fact, he couldn’t recall the last time it had happened. Maybe that night on Liberty Avenue? At the time, Justin had just started his last year in high school, and getting laid was all he could think about. Consequently, he had convinced Daphne to drive him into town, but he had crossed the path of a psycho almost as soon as he had left the car. The man had been drunk out of his mind and had tried to push him into an alley in order to force him to suck his dick. Scared shitless, Justin had attempted to reason with him, but he’d ultimately had to kick him in the balls in order to escape. Needless to say, the idea of returning to Liberty Avenue had never crossed his mind again.

 

But that was all in the past and Brian’s attention was actually nice.

 

“Mr. Taylor?” A female voice called, bringing Justin back from his revery. Realizing that he needed to be the perfect host himself, he put a smile on his face and responded to the woman’s inquiry about his works.

 

They walked around for another couple of hours and, finally, Justin decided that he was ready to head home. Having sold four pieces already, he was quite satisfied with his accomplishment. So, he informed Brian that he wanted to leave, and they both went to bid their goodbyes to Sydney before exiting the gallery.

 

Outside, in the warm spring night, Justin patted his pockets, searching for his smokes.

 

“You want one?” the blond offered as soon as he retrieved the pack from his jacket.

 

“Sure,” Brian responded, grabbing a Marlboro and placing it between his lips, before leaning closer with a lighter. “Here, let me…”  Justin felt a warm touch graze his skin when he placed his hand briefly next to Brian’s as the man lit his cigarette.

 

Justin inhaled deeply and asked, “Do you mind if we sit on the bench over there while we wait for a cab?” He wondered if Brian would realize that he could actually distinguish more than he had let on until now.

 

“I drove here, so I’ll drive you home. But we can sit there while we smoke if you want,” Brian proposed, before helping him to the rainbow-painted bench. He suddenly asked, “How did you know where the bench was, anyway? I thought you couldn’t see.”

 

“I’ve sat on this bench numerous times,” Justin replied. “As for my sight…” He paused, knowing Brian would understand what his silence really meant.

 

“Awesome, you’ve played me. Well, in that case, you won’t mind if I leave your sorry ass sitting on that bench, will you?” Brian retorted with a snort and crushed out his cigarette on the sidewalk before pretending to leave. In truth, he walked a few steps out of Justin’s immediate range before pausing to peer back at Justin.

 

“I can’t see… much,” Justin revealed quickly, panic bubbling up his chest as he heard Brian walking away. “Please, Brian... don’t go!” he exclaimed, but as he listened carefully, he realized he didn’t hear his companion anymore. “Brian...Brian? Shit!” he cursed when he didn’t get a response after a few seconds. Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he shouted loudly, “How the fuck am I supposed to get home now?”

 

“I’ll take you,” Brian’s reassuring voice declared as he positioned himself in front of Justin.

 

“Shit!” Justin jumped, startled. Directing his gaze up even though he couldn’t see anything now that the night had descended over the city, he inquired, annoyed, “How long have you been standing there?”

 

“I didn’t even leave,” Brian revealed.

 

“Oh.” Justin pulled a hit from his cigarette, feeling foolish. “Don’t do that again. I mean it, Brian.” He sighed, disclosing, “It’s worse at night. I can’t see at all. Not even shapes…”

 

Brian sat back down next to Justin, placing his left arm tentatively around his shoulders. “I shouldn’t have messed with you.” He paused, before murmuring, his voice surprisingly soft. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“Thanks.” Justin nodded, leaning thoughtlessly into Brian’s embrace. The brunet placed his other hand on Justin’s arm, briefly moving his fingers up and down in a soothing manner. Justin frowned at this unexpected gesture. He generally hated physical contact, even though he had no other choice but to accept help when he navigated unknown places. He was therefore pleasantly surprised to realize feeling Brian’s comforting touch felt right, and he purposely chose to ignore the resulting shiver running down his spine.

 

They fell into a comfortable silence for a while, just listening to the sounds of the night. Eventually, Brian asked, “Aren’t you too young to smoke?”

 

Justin huffed, responding, “I’m nineteen and if you had my life, you’d smoke too.”

 

Brian barked out a laugh. “That’s your excuse? A shitty life?” He placed his hand on the back of Justin’s neck. “I’d bet good money that my life is more complicated than yours, kiddo.”

 

“I’m not a kid!” Justin scolded, standing up and effectively breaking all physical contact between them. “Take me home.”

 

“Demanding, much?” Brian inquired before standing up, too. “Your wish is my command, pretty boy,” he teased.

 

Justin wanted to be exasperated with his escort, but he couldn’t help but be amused by the man’s sarcastic reply. So, he let Brian guide him toward his car without further complaint.



 

Brian actually enjoyed the company of Justin Taylor. The young man was smart and funny, even if a little defensive every time Brian couldn’t help but mess up with his head; he also had a very attractive ass, which was actually his best asset as far as Brian was concerned. So, when Justin finally announced that he wanted to go home after parading around for a few hours in the gallery and playing the happy couple, Brian gladly agreed with his request.

 

What he hadn’t planned, though, was for Justin to play him and he soon discovered that the kid had let him assume that he was totally blind, when the truth was, he wasn’t. Yet, from his reaction when Brian pretended to leave him on his own, his disability was real.

 

After Brian helped Justin get into his car, the drive was mainly silent, Justin’s directions to his place being the only words spoken between the two men.

 

“Here we are,” Brian finally announced as he parked in front of an old building. He noticed that Justin lived only a couple blocks away from his own place.

 

“Okay. Thanks.” Justin fiddled with the seat belt. He seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden and Brian inwardly questioned his apparent uneasiness. Was it because of what they were going to do? Brian suspected a nineteen-year-old kid didn’t hire escorts on a daily basis and, therefore, he was probably nervous. It was kind of cute.

 

“Let me help you to your apartment,” Brian offered and got out of his Jeep. Apparently, the boy was too shy to make the first move, so Brian had to take matters into his own ‘hands’, so to speak.

 

“I can find my own way, thank you.” Justin weakly declined Brian’s proposition as he opened the passenger door.

 

“I’m not letting you go up without me by your side. Deal with it,” Brian insisted, helping Justin out of the car and keeping an arm wrapped around his shoulders on the way to his place.

 

Little did he know that the night would not end like he had imagined.



 

When they arrived in front of Justin’s door, the young man fumbled with the key but refused any assistance. He had to put some distance between himself and Brian. They were alone, and the older man smelled entirely too delicious. Brian’s hand on his shoulder radiated heat and Justin could only imagine the way it might feel on other parts of his body.

 

Once Justin managed to get the door unlocked and opened, he stepped inside and then turned around, bumping into Brian. He hadn’t expected him to be so close.

 

“Sorry,” Justin apologized.

 

“It’s okay,” Brian whispered, walking him backwards, his sweet breath fanning over Justin’s face.

 

“Uh… has Daphne paid you yet?” the blond blurted out, taking a step to his right, completely forgetting Daphne had moved the sofa, and knocking into it, losing his balance.

 

Brian steadied him before getting closer and purring in his ear. “Don’t worry about the money. I’m not that kind of slut.”

 

Justin gulped thickly. “I… I didn’t mean... I don’t think you’re a slut.”

 

“That’s good to hear. How about I show you how good I am in other… ‘areas’, aside from looking pretty on your arm? I bet I’d look even better naked by your side,” he dropped his voice, breathing out seductively, “Maybe, inside you,” and, finally, he leaned in to kiss his neck.

 

Justin felt Brian’s hot breath on his skin for a half second, wanting to savor the moment and let this man take what he wanted. But, he placed his hands in front of himself instead and pushed Brian away. “Stop this! It’s not what I want.”

 

Liar.... Justin’s inner voice snickered at him.

 

He shook his head, determined not to let his lust dictate his actions, before stating firmly, “I’m sorry if I led you on, Brian. I only wanted someone by my side to help me at the gallery. Nothing else.”

 

Brian didn’t seem pleased with Justin’s rejection. “Is that so?” he snapped in irritation. “Well, in that case, I will find a willing participant elsewhere. At least, the smart ones know when a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity is too good to pass up, unlike you, Mr. Taylor...” he pronounced Justin’s name in contempt, before spinning on his heel and walking out the door.

 

Well, that went well, Justin thought as he slumped against the arm of the sofa, shakily touching the spot on his neck where Brian’s hot lips had been a moment ago.

 

He’d never been so close to another man, except for his first and only attempt at kissing a guy. And it had ended badly both times, even if Brian’s ego being hurt could be seen as an improvement in Justin’s book, compared to the reaction of the first guy he had tried to kiss. That was maybe why, even if he might otherwise have felt bad about Brian’s cruel comeback to his refusal to have sex with him, Justin actually felt pretty good about it.

 

So, when he was sure he could stand without falling, Justin went to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. Then, he got ready to go to bed and kept thinking of Brian. He wished he could have really seen him. He must be drop-dead gorgeous, with that voice, that unique scent, that heated touch…

 

Justin lay down in his bed and, soon, his hand slipped under the blanket, his fingers wrapping around his erection. He hadn’t touched himself with a specific person in mind since high school and therefore relished the feeling of his hand going up and down his shaft, amazing sensations soon invading him. The memory of Brian so close to him, of his lips on his throat, of his arms around him, were turning him on; he felt himself getting harder, a moan escaping his lips when pleasure rushed through his body. At the thought of Brian fucking him, he exploded in his hand, coming harder that he could ever remember doing. He didn’t even care about the mess he had created, simply sitting up and wiping himself off with his shirt before falling back onto the bed in a boneless heap.

 

He slept better than he had in months.



 

Meanwhile, in a dark room full of moans and groans, Brian chose the man he wanted to fuck. When he finally came, his cock buried deep inside the nameless, blond trick’s ass, he couldn’t help but fantasize about the look on his face if Brian had fucked him instead.

 

Fucking Justin Taylor.

 

 

 

Chapter End Notes:

 

 

Regarding Justin’s disability, we will explain it more clearly as the story proceeds. We tried to make his condition as believable as possible but, of course, this is fiction and we’re not doctors :)

 

For those who are interested, check out the works of John Bramblitt, a blind artist. It’s astonishing how talented he is.

 

Link: http://bramblitt.myshopify.com

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