Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction

 

~. Brian .~

The downfall of picking up tricks was that, no matter how hot they were, you never had any idea how they were going to be in bed. They ranged from great to not bad to horribly untalented, and of course, it wasn't like they walked around with flashing neon signs announcing which they were before you picked them up.

One good thing about fucking the same person more than once was that they eventually came to know your body better than you did yourself. Justin knew exactly what I liked, how I liked it, and knew just how long to do it to drive me crazy without making me come.

He'd sucked me off for the first time in forever just a few days ago, and since then he'd reminded me on several occasions just how talented he was at it.

Now, I was on my knees in the shower, his dick down my throat, reminding him just where he'd learned it all. Or at least most of it— I swear he'd been fucking natural at giving head since the first time he'd done it.

He shook and shuddered and swore all through his orgasm. I gave the head of his softening dick a few extra licks and stood up, grinning a little smugly when he simply stood there, breathing hard, against the shower wall. I could still make him fucking breathless, something I took particular pride in. I didn't give many blow jobs except for the ones I gave him.

I got to my feet and grabbed the soap from its dish. I ran it over his chest, making little soapy circles over his nipples. Shielding him from the water with my body, I covered his stomach and chest in a thick white layer of soap and proceeded to draw a crude dick-and-balls image on his skin with my finger.

"I'm loving the soap art," he said appreciatively, looking down at my work with a raised eyebrow.

"It's a talent. You're not the only artist around here."

He laughed and kissed me, my soap art smearing between our bodies as we alternated between kissing and soaping each other. I reached behind him to slide my hands down his back, cupping his ass and kneading his cheeks. He groaned and pushed his hips into me. Squirming out of my arms, he pushed me gently back against the shower wall and sank to his knees. The soap landed on the floor with a thud, and I wasn't even aware who had dropped it.

I moaned as he began jerking my cock, a hunger apparent on his face as he watched his own fist moving on me. He blinked rapidly as water fell in his eyes, then closed them and leaned forward to wrap his lips around the head of my dick. I groaned again, and it took everything I had not to thrust forward into his hot, wet mouth.

Even after all this time, he still gave a spectacular blow job. He'd seemed a little insecure a couple of days ago, after he'd blown me that first time, but there was really no reason for it. He was still a natural at it. Still genuinely enjoyed doing it, I could tell.

Watching him sucking me off was hotter than almost anything, but as hard as I tried to keep my eyes open to watch, eventually it just became too much and I closed them, slumping against the shower wall, just riding the pleasure he was giving me. He had one hand wrapped around the base of my dick; the other slid up my chest, and I curled my fingers around his. My free hand was in his hair, gripping and releasing and petting in a way that was meant to both sooth and urge him on.

It was the most exquisite thing, his talented tongue and mouth on me, and it didn't take me long at all to come. I felt a little guilty when he coughed and spluttered, spitting my come into the shallow pool of water at our feet. Out of the four times he'd sucked me off in the last couple days, there hadn't been a time yet when he'd been able to swallow. He used to do it all the time, or else he'd keep it in his mouth and share it with me through a kiss, but now it seemed he couldn't help choking. I was beginning to think it was a psychological thing, probably related to some unpleasant memory he had. He didn't seem too bothered by it, though; he turned down my earlier suggestion that I pull out before I came in his mouth, anyway. So I tried to just let it go and not think too much about what they'd done to give him this problem in the first place.

I ran my fingers through his hair, making it stick up in every direction for a few moments until the water flattened it back down. He climbed to his feet and his mouth found mine, the kiss as much for pleasure as for reassurance. My tongue swept against his, running over all the places my cock had been just moments before.

One thing about this most recent development in our sex life was the fact that actual sex didn't seem quite so far out of the realm of possibility anymore. On the contrary, it felt close enough to touch. What was holding us back, really? Our mutual fear? While that may have been a very valid reason, we were no longer at a place where sex was definitely out of the question because there was no way he could handle it. We actually didn't know if he could or not, and yes, that was the problem, but the question of whether or not we should or could do it was much more ambiguous now than it had ever been before.

The box of condoms Justin had bought during one of our weekend outings sat on our nightstand, untouched. I had a few still stashed here myself just in case. They wouldn't have lasted us two days in the pre-party era. There were a few at the bottom the nightstand drawer, one under a couch cushion, and one in the drawer of my computer desk, and that was it. Granted, whenever we did start having sex again, it would probably take us a while to even get through those, but if Justin was thinking we might soon be needing condoms...well, that could only be a good sign. Whenever it happened, I knew he was determined that it be as different as humanly possible from that night in every way. Safety was a major part of that. And I was another.

~.~

On Thursday, I muttered a halfhearted something to Justin about therapy with Carl that night before I left for work in the morning. I met Mikey for a drink at Woody's after work, casually scanning the bar for a potential trick while simultaneously listening to Michael talking about his mother's fussing over one of the kids who'd gotten bashed a few weeks ago. Apparently it had been some drag queen around Justin's age, a diner regular that Deb was particularly fond of, and she'd had Michael and Ben running food over to his place several days a week.

I was listening, but when he said that the kid had decided not to identify his attackers to the police, I stopped cruising the guy down the bar behind Michael and really paid attention.

"He's not identifying them?"

Michael seemed a little taken aback by my sudden vehemence on behalf of the bashed kid, but after a second this gave way to mild satisfaction that he now had my undivided attention. "No. Ma said she had a talk with him, and the kid's scared of retribution. Can't blame him, I guess, considering what they did to him without any provocation at all."

I swore softly, not sure why I cared so much, except that I did. As far as I knew, I'd never met the kid, but in my mind's eye I saw Justin's face, Justin's pain reflected in clear blue eyes. I pictured baseball bats I'd seen firsthand and slings I hadn't. I pictured a high school jock and a sleazy club owner, and all the evil they personified.

Michael cleared his throat and directed his question to his beer bottle. "So, uh...how are things coming with you and Carl?"

My gut clenched in something remarkably like guilt. "I've definitely the one guy on board, finally. Maybe the Sap's old friend, too."

"That's great. So...when exactly is this all supposed to happen?"

When, indeed. "Matt says he'll do his part soon. He wants to talk to his partner first, so when he gets back from overseas, Matt's going to tell him everything."

"So...his partner doesn't even know he was...?"

"He doesn't know anything."

Michael looked slightly horrified and shook his head. "God, if Ben came to me one day and told me something like that, I don't know what I'd do."

I stared into the bottom of my glass. "Yes, you do. You'd do exactly what you did when he told you he had HIV."

"What?"

"You'd love him anyway, through everything. And you'd take care of him as long as he'd let you."

Michael made a soft noise of agreement. "Okay, yeah, I would. Just like you did with Justin."

I cleared my throat and tossed back the rest of my drink. "Anyway, I told Carl all I know about the drug deals going on in the clubs. We're sure Sapperstein's involved in it, which should be enough to earn him some time at least, even if the rest of it falls apart. I know you thought he was a dick when your mother first started fucking him, but if it wasn't for the detective, I wouldn't have gotten this far."

This wasn't even a formal report, or something that had come across his desk. Of course, much of Carl's willingness to help was probably because of Debbie's connection to Justin and myself, but he had done a lot for the cause. He believed in what he was doing, in helping to get a dangerous man off the streets and making him pay for the crimes he'd committed.

"I might have been a little quick to judge," Mikey admitted. "I guess a homophobic prick wouldn't be helping you and Justin like this."

I shrugged. "Probably not. But I am hoping we get a homophobic prick of a judge during Sapperstein's trial."

Michael snorted. "Who would think intolerant bigotry could ever be a good thing?"

"If it gets Sapperstein put away longer, I don't give a shit if the judge is the most bigoted asshole on the fucking planet." I wondered if it would be possible to give the judge who had presided over at the trial against Hobbes a call and tell him we had a fag he could punish to his heart's content.

"So...when are you planning to tell Justin about all of this? Don't you think it's pretty much just a matter of time now?"

I brushed him off. "There's no point telling him anything before it happens. The drug deals are one thing, but the trial for the other shit could be a long way off—"
"You're not thinking of waiting until then?" Michael's tone had grown stern and hard, so that he sounded freakishly like Debbie. "Come on, Brian, that could take forever and you know it. I think he might actually be relieved if he knew. I was talking to him a couple weeks ago about those two kids getting bashed, and I think he regrets not doing something, pressing charges...."

"You didn't see him after that one dancer dropped the charges against the Sap," I said coldly.

"Maybe not. But don't you think you're taking the secrecy shit a little far?"

“No.”

“But...”

“Christ, Michael,” I said, aggravation settling in. “You weren't there. You didn't see what it did to him.”

It had been just me and Justin up on that rooftop that night. It had been just me and Justin, working through that trauma and others in hours of therapy. Justin had gone through hell, and Justin wouldn't suffer through anything else because of this asshole; I was going to make sure of it.

"Well, maybe I didn't see it then, but I see what it's doing to him now," he said, sounding quite irritated himself. "I don't know what the fuck happened back then, but whatever it is, it's over."

"It's over," I agreed. "It's not done."

"Don't you think he feels like that?" he challenged. "What that asshole did...I think it would help him if he knew what you were doing. He doesn't need protecting, he needs closure."

"And since when did you become such an expert on what he needs?" He hadn't been the one to hide Justin's medicine, to sit through therapy every week, to hear of the horrors he'd gone through and watch him struggle not to die under the weight of it all. "You weren't there. You don't know anything."

Michael didn't have an answer for that. I took a sip of my drink, grimly satisfied that I'd shut him up.

"I just think you should trust him and tell him, that's all," he grumbled at last. "The past is the past."

An annoying, nagging worry tugged at my mind. That maybe he might have a point and might know what he was talking about more than I did. Fuck. Was I so caught up in the past that I was jeopardizing the future? It wouldn't have been the first time I'd gotten caught up in memories. It had taken me months to trust Justin with his medication, with being okay with him staying home alone after finding all those old drawings he'd done of his own fucking corpse. Was this just an extension of my inability to let things go when I needed to?

On the other hand, even if that was the case...was it not justified? Yeah, Justin had been hurting months before what he'd attempted to do on that rooftop. But he'd also promised me that he'd never go that far, never try to end things that way. But then the charges were being dropped against Sapperstein and right after that he'd gone and done it anyway and tried to take his own life. I couldn't ignore the timing; Sapperstein going free had been the thing that had pushed him over the edge. But Mikey was right...it was the past. Justin was...fuck, he wasn't even the same person he'd been back then. He'd changed, I'd changed. Everything had changed since then, hadn't it?

~.~

Justin was in the shower when I got home. I thought about slipping in and surprising him, but as I started stripping of my clothes, something caught my eye. One of his sketchbooks was open on the bed. I sank onto the mattress and picked it up. His sketches, as well as being a valuable insight into the inner workings of his mind, were usually more entertaining and hot than disturbing these days.

He'd been working on one of his Rage and JT stories again, and I flipped back a bit to get to the beginning. He was getting good with this comic form thing; he'd obviously been looking through the examples Michael had sent him.

The scene started off in what appeared to be a bedroom. JT sat on the bed, a blanket pooled around his waist. Rage stood in the middle of the page, a hand in his hair, anxiety pouring off him in waves.

"A mind-control chip?" read the caption beneath JT, scribbled inside a little rectangular box. "The Life-Sapper planted a mind-control chip in my head?"

"Yes. The longer the chip is in your head, the harder it will be to fight," read Rage's caption. "It will trick your mind into hallucinating and seeing horrible things. The Life-Sapper will use it to torture you until you go insane and join him in his evil plans."

I flipped to the next page, which featured JT clutching his head, eyes squeezed shut, clearly in terrible agony.

"Make it stop! Rage, help me!"

Next page. Rage was on the bed next to JT now, arms around the terrified man still holding his head in his hands.

"None of it's real, JT. He can't beat you. We must destroy the chip and thwart the Life-Sapper's evil plans before he gains control of the world and everyone in it!"

I turned the page again, impressed by Justin's artistic talent, despite the cliche take-over-the-world plot.

"How do we do that?" read JT's caption..

Rage was smiling. "We must have hot sex. It is the only thing that will short out the Life-Sapper's mind control chip and free you from it! Then we will convince everyone in the world to have hot gay sex too, and everyone else will be saved, too!"

I snorted. Maybe if all comics had gone like this, I would have liked them as much as Michael always had.

What followed was, predictably, a variety of very erotic scenes. JT with Rage's dick in his mouth. Rage with his face buried in JT's ass. JT riding Rage. Rage fucking JT in midair.

I was contemplating this one— it looked like quite a strain on Rage's arms and JT's legs— when the bathroom door creaked open, and Justin appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, you're home. I didn't think you'd be back for a while. How was therapy?"

I felt my heart free-fall and land somewhere in my lower stomach. I'd almost managed to forget what I'd promised myself all the way home I would be doing tonight.

Though I'd certainly tried, I couldn't ignore what Michael had said. Sapperstein's trial would be a long way off. I couldn't possibly hide this from Justin for years to come. I would have to tell him before that. I would have to tell him before he found out through someone else, the way I'd found out that he'd been hurt in the first place. I knew from experience how horrible it was to have to hear it from someone else and put two and two together.

Besides, at least something was almost definitely going to happen now. I had Carl on my side, not to mention the entire legal system. There were still a few pieces of the puzzle that carried the threat of not fitting right, but at this point, it was almost certain that there would be repercussions for Sapperstein.

Maybe now was the right time to let Justin know what those might be.

“Those are hot,” I said, stalling and gesturing in the vicinity of the sketchpad. He was wearing nothing but a towel, and I felt my dick stir, its interest piqued.
I forced the thought of his wet, naked body out of my mind. I had something to do first. I had to tell him. He would be pissed, probably, because I'd lied to him for so long and kept this hidden, but it was almost definitely better to tell him sooner than later. Probably.

He sat down on the bed and leaned toward me. I could see every droplet of water on his skin. His hair was wet and darker than usual. A bead of water slid over his chest. I wanted to lick it.

"Which ones did you like?" he asked, blinking innocently as one of his hands slid beneath the towel he wore. I watched it move, knew exactly what that hand was doing under there. "Brian?"

Fuck. No. I had to tell him first. But he was smirking, waiting for me to do something, to say something. I looked at him, into those fucking blue eyes, and felt a pang of guilt. He trusted me so much. He trusted me more than anyone in the world, and I'd lied to him for months while I figured out what it was I wanted to do, how I needed to go about it, and finally began working on my plan.

He had my hand in his now, tired of waiting and letting me watch, and then he was shoving my hand up under the towel to join his. He made a little noise of pleasure and closed his eyes, the tip of his tongue sticking out just a bit. Fuck, now I wanted to lick that, too.

So I leaned forward and kissed him. He didn't close his mouth or pull his tongue away, but slid it out further and into my mouth. I pulled away before it could get too far.

"In a minute," I said as he tried to move forward and follow my lips. "I've got to tell you something."

"What?" he asked, breathless with excitement, evidently expecting it to be something dirty. He started to move my hand on his dick, but I pulled it away, out from beneath the towel. "Brian, what?"

He looked at me, a frown on his face, his forehead creased in concern.

"I—" Fuck. Why did I have to do this now? He was in such a good mood. There was no reason to ruin it. He clearly wanted sex, and Kathy said that he should trust himself and his instincts, his urges. Why should I get him pissed off at me when I could give him a blow job instead? Why should I deny either of us something we wanted? "I, uh...I liked those drawings," I finished feebly.

"Oh." He looked surprised, having expected something more serious. He glanced at the sketchbook, which I'd left open on the page with the floating-in-midair fuck. "Good. So, which one did you like best? Maybe we can do it."

"Doubt it. As of right now, I don't have the power of levitation, so...."

He grinned. "We can do something else," he said, scooting closer again. And then he was in my arms and was kissing me, and it was so hard to think, so hard to even breathe. His body was damp against mine, soaking through my shirt, his hair cool and wet in my grip, his lips warm and soft on my skin. And I couldn't do it. I couldn't ruin this.

"I could suck you," he whispered as I rolled him over onto his back. There was something soft on my thighs as I settled on top of him, and I realized he still had the damn towel on, his cock straining against the fabric. I ripped it open, leaving him exposed, then made myself comfortable again. With his legs now free, he wrapped them around my waist, holding me there. I rocked my hips against him, our cocks pressed together between us.

I buried my face in his neck. Licked it. "I know what we can do."

"Yeah?"

“Yeah. Roll over.”

I didn't usually make such requests when we were naked; usually, we were face to face, for obvious reasons. But I kept my tone light, everything about me as reassuring as possible, from my expression to the way I touched him. Gentle. Non-threatening.

He offered me a small smile and slowly rolled over beneath me. I drank in the sight of him, his perfect skin and ass. I let my hand follow the path of my eyes, trailing over his body. He shivered at my touch.

“I'll talk to you,” I assured him. “So you can hear my voice. Just tell me if you need to stop.”

He nodded, grabbing for a pillow, which he bunched up under his head. "Okay. Ready. Just— talk, please."

I obliged. “You look hot like this,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss the base of his neck. “This is how you looked that first night you were with me. All spread out like this, just waiting for me to fuck you.” Another shudder from him. Another kiss from me, this time to his back.

I let out a breathy laugh against his skin. “You remember? I taught you—”

“What rimming is.” His voice was a cross between amused reminiscence and sheer longing. He knew. He knew, now, what was coming. Where I was planning on taking this. “Oh, God, Brian....”

“You tasted good,” I remembered. “Like sweat— and sex.” I gave his ass cheek a kiss now, too, then moved down to lick where his ass met his leg.

“I definitely remember that lesson,” he managed to grit out, barely, as halfway through his statement, I ran my tongue along his crack, comparing it to the flavor he'd had that first night.

"You taste the same," I told him, surprising myself by remembering what he'd even tasted like that first night. There weren't many sexual encounters I remembered in detail. Usually I just remembered things like if the guy was good or not, or how big his cock was. Then again, that only applied to the vast majority of tricks I'd had, and Justin didn't really fall into that category. “Do you want me to?”

“Yeah...yeah, do it.” His fingers were gripping the sheets tightly, his knuckles white. He thrust his ass back at me, and I took that as my cue.

He gasped and writhed against the sheets when my tongue met his hole. I licked him a few times, then lifted my head. “You okay?”

“Uh...uh-huh,” he grunted.

I smiled and lowered my face back to his ass. Flattening my tongue, I gave his hole a few more licks. I swirled my tongue around, just tasting, losing myself in his scent and taste and feel. Letting him intoxicate me. Then I pushed the tip of my tongue inside him and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.

This continued for several more minutes. I'd get him crazy by licking him, tracing every wrinkle with my tongue, then I'd stick it inside him, then I'd pull it back out and kiss him like I was kissing his mouth instead. And all the while he groaned and gasped and twisted around on the bed.

Finally, he told me to let him roll over, his voice muffled by the bed. I let him up and barely had time to register the look of desire on his face before he was in my lap, pulling me into him, his lips crashing into mine. His hands tangled in my hair, pulling, holding me close with an almost painful grip.

I landed on my back with a grunt when he threw us onto the mattress, and he was still on me, still kissing me with abandon. His tongue was in my mouth, tangling with mine as our bodies tangled the same way.

Then all at once, it was gone. Justin had rolled off me, and before I could ask what he was doing and if he was okay, before my fears had really even taken hold of me, he held up his answer to my unspoken questions between two fingers.

I stared at the condom in his hand.

~. Justin .~

Somewhere, someone was laughing at me. Possibly, this voice existed only inside my head. Possibly, it was the same voice that whispered in my ear, that told me that I was helpless against the world, that I should always be afraid of it. And now this voice in my head was laughing, asking me what the fuck I thought I was doing with a fucking condom. Didn't I know I wasn't allowed this? Didn't I know this was against the rules these days?

But Brian wasn't laughing. Brian wasn't telling me to stop being as ridiculous as I felt, thinking this was a possibility. Maybe he couldn't see the fear inside me. Maybe I just looked brave or determined to him and not stupid, filled with fantasies about things I just didn't get to have in my life anymore. Things I just wasn't allowed now that they'd been stolen from me.

Maybe to him right now, I looked like the strong person I wanted to be. Was trying to be, because he was so fucking beautiful, and it had been months since I'd felt as amazing as I had a few minutes ago with his tongue inside me, and I wanted that feeling back times a thousand.

He didn't say anything for the longest moment, his eyes meeting mine, our silent conversation connecting us in a way words never could. Finally, he tilted his head, as if to say, go for it.

My hands shook as I tried to open the wrapper. He took pity and plucked it from my fingers, tearing it open like I'd seen him do a million times before. But this wasn't like the million times before. This was new territory. Dangerous territory.

I'd wanted to put it on him myself, but couldn't quite make my voice work to tell him this, and my hands were still shaking anyway. He rolled it onto his cock, and I looked away before I could stop myself.

He reached up to wrap a hand around the back of my neck, gently guiding me back down to lie across his body. He kissed me softly. I knew this language well, this way of speaking, and when he told me through kisses to relax, that I was safe, that he wouldn't hurt me, that I was loved, I replied with love and adoration and gratitude of my own.

Now that he was wearing a condom, I wasn't sure if I felt better or worse. I felt better knowing this time I would be protected, that this time was different, but I knew there was nothing to stop us now. He could do it. Could push inside me. And there was such a flurry of nerves inside my stomach I wasn't sure how I felt about that beneath the overwhelming anxiety.

He pressed his forehead to mine, his lips hovering above my mouth. "Are you sure?"

I huffed a little nervous laugh. "No," I admitted quietly, as if I might shatter this completely if I spoke too loudly. "But I want to try. I want you..."

Another kiss, warm and safe and happy. Things I associated with Brian. So different than...It. But was it different enough? Were we ready for this?

"Let me get you ready."

I nodded, rolling off him to lie on the bed at his side. He reached for the lube, making my heart hammer in my chest, but he didn't immediately head for my ass. He kissed me again, his hands roaming my body, his lips and tongue worshiping every inch of skin they moved across, and fuck, I'd never known him to be this fucking gentle, except maybe that first time after prom.

He sucked my cock for a little while, not enough to make me come, but enough to make me relax a bit and feel good. And then he was popping open the lube cap, and I was laying my head back against the pillow and trying to breathe, suddenly feeling a little dizzy.

"You okay?"

I nodded, planting my feet on the mattress, my legs apart so I wouldn't get in his way. I was completely exposed, and it took all of my willpower not to put my knees together, or even pull him between my legs and wrap them around his waist. Anything not to feel so open and vulnerable.

My breath hitched as the lube touched my skin. "It's cold," I said before I could stop myself.

He made a noise of amusement. "It'll heat up."

Our eyes met, and I smiled at the memory his words conjured up. It was even scarier now than it had been back then. And it was a totally different type of fear, just as it was a different type of determination that urged us on.

"I'm just going to open you up." He flexed his fingers as if to demonstrate what he would be using, waiting for my permission.

I nodded. I gasped when his finger pressed inside me and sank my teeth into my lip. It had been a long time since I'd had anything in me besides his tongue just now. So far it didn't hurt too much, was more cold and uncomfortable than anything, but I fought the urge to squirm away from the invasion. I knew from experience that it always got better, and I wanted so badly for this to end in something good.

"Okay?"

I choked out something in the affirmative. To my relief, he started pulling his finger out again, but then he pushed it back in, slowly fucking me with it. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, overwhelmed by the fact that his finger was actually fucking inside me, getting me ready for his cock. It was exhilarating and petrifying at once. I gripped the sheets tightly in my hands, struggling to breathe.

"Ready for another one?"

I didn't want to think about how badly it was going to hurt when his whole dick was inside me, so I nodded again, wanting to be as open as possible when we got there. I'd gone from getting fucked at least four times a day to...well, It...and then just...nothing. It was going to feel like my first time all over again, him stretching me open beyond what I could imagine.

As if to prove me right, the second finger hurt worse than the first. He slowed his movements even more, easing me open.

"You alright?"

I squeezed my eyes shut momentarily, but didn't like the fact that I couldn't see him, so I quickly opened them again. "I don't know."

"Want to stop?"

I hissed as I shifted my hips and felt his fingers move inside me. The pain was starting to ebb, the hint of real pleasure just barely out of my reach. "Fuck. I don't know...I don't know if I can do this."

"Relax— I'm going to pull out."

"You don't have to—"

"I know. Just relax."

I did, and a second later he slid his fingers from my body, leaving me empty. I couldn't deny the relief, however, and closed my eyes briefly as my slightly uneven breathing returned to normal, my legs dropping back to the bed. "I just said I wasn't sure, not that I didn't want to keep going."

He pulled the unused condom off his dick and tossed it aside. "Well, it's risky enough as it is. If you can't handle it when I have a couple of fingers inside you...we're not taking that chance."

I sighed. It was probably for the best that we didn't try anything more right now, but it had just been starting to feel a little bit good, and this emptiness was almost worse than the fear had been.

I was about to reach for my underwear when he surprised me by laying a hand on my cock. Not grabbing or even holding, just...touching.

"You're still hard," he noticed, starting to stroke me almost absentmindedly.

My breath caught in my throat, my interest returning at once, my disappointment rapidly dissipating. If I couldn't have him inside me, at least I could still have this.

His eyes flitted between my face and his own hand, leisurely working my cock. "So fucking hot...." I groaned and arched into his hand. "You want me to jerk you off or suck you?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but then he rubbed his thumb across the head of my cock, and my breath was stolen away.

He seemed to understand, and leaned down to kiss me, resting half of his weight on me. His swiped his tongue across my lower lip, teasing me. He nuzzled my neck, then licked that too before sucking on the same spot, no doubt leaving a mark behind. I was feeling pleasantly high, as though I'd taken something before starting this with him.

He was moving down my body now, further and further until his mouth was around my dick. It was so warm, so wet and wonderful, all I wanted to do was pull him in, closer, forever against me, with me, in me.

I wanted this feeling, always.

I wanted him every day for as long as I could have him.

And someday, I would again have him in every way possible.

~.~

Daphne choked on her soda, her eyes widening, oblivious to the fact that the guy behind the concession counter had just given her her popcorn and announced her total.

"Oh my God, you had sex?!"

The teenaged employee raised his eyebrows, and I heard somebody behind us in line snicker.

"Say it louder, Daph, I don't think the people inside the theaters actually heard you."

She had the decency to look slightly abashed as she slid a couple bucks over the counter, and I followed her over to the toppings stand. She grabbed some napkins while I squirted an obscene amount of butter on my popcorn, and then we headed for the movie theater depicted on our tickets.

"So, the sex?" she demanded once we were a reasonable distance from the small crowd who now, thanks to her, was quite aware that I'd had sex, which was true, but not in the way she was thinking. "What happened? When did this start?"

I let out a deep breath, relaxing a little now that we were away from the main mob of moviegoers. "It didn't. I mean— we didn't actually go that far. We were just fooling around, like we have been."

Maybe it had been a mistake to say anything at all. It had started when she'd called earlier this afternoon; Brian and I had been in bed— not sleeping— so I'd let the call go to voice mail. Later, when she'd confessed it had been starting to look as though she'd have to go to the movies alone, I'd grinned and told her I was sorry, but Brian and I had been busy in bed. Thus, her exclamation at the concession counter.

She pressed her lips together, nodding, even though she looked slightly disappointed. "Oh. Well, that's better than nothing, right?"

"Definitely. And we kind of almost did it, once. Or...we were going to, anyway." It had been a week ago that I'd tried to let Brian actually fuck me, and never gotten further than his fingers. He seemed to be waiting for me to bring it up before we tried it again, and though it was always at the forefront of my mind, I hadn't suggested anything.

Inside the theater, we got a whole row to ourselves, and it was quiet and nice and not scary at all to sit there with my best friend. The previews came on and we discussed which ones we'd like to see and which ones looked fucking stupid. I was glad for the chance to get out and see a movie with Daphne. We'd been talking about going out and doing something fun for a while now, but my nerves had held me back.

I was getting out more and more these days with Brian, too. A couple of times I even went off by myself, though never more than a few streets away or for longer than twenty minutes or so at a time. I would browse the shelves inside the art store I loved so much while Brian shopped for shoes or shirts or ties or whatever a few streets away, then he would come and find me and it would be great, because I was finally starting to do things on my own again. I still tried to avoid crowds as much as possible, so we kept away from the busier stores and he always accompanied me to the diner, but at this point I was feeling more confident than I'd been since It had happened.

This new comfort had led to me saying yes when Daphne had asked me to come see a movie with her. It wasn't too difficult, either. She even held my hand if I needed her to, and I felt safe with her. Also, at two-thirty, most people were at school or work, and we were seeing one of the relatively unpopular movies instead of the huge hits that everyone wanted to see, so the theater was mercifully uncrowded.

An older couple in their sixties inched their way along the row in front of us. The woman beamed at me and Daphne, as if we were the sweetest sight she'd ever laid eyes on.

"She probably thinks we're a couple," I whispered in Daphne's ear.

She grinned and giggled. "If she only knew."

I smiled too, and stole some of her popcorn.

~.~

I didn't get home until after six. After the movie, Daphne and I had wandered around the mall for a while, stopping at the food court and discussing what had turned out to be a rather stupid movie with mediocre acting. Somehow, though, we'd enjoyed it as though it had been an award winning film.

Brian was at the counter, eating out of a carton when I got in. "Hey. How was the movie?"

"It sucked. And not in a way you'd appreciate," I said, leaning in for a kiss hello. "But Daph and I had fun."

"Good. There's more in the fridge." He held up his little box of Chinese food. "No problems? You've been gone a while. I take it that's a good sign?"

I nodded and went to get some more food. "Really good. We got something to eat afterward and just hung out. She stayed with me the whole time and everything. It was a lot of fun."

"Nothing like a dinner and movie date with your girlfriend," he said in a playfully mocking voice as I sat down next to him.

I made a face at him. "Maybe my boyfriend should take me out on more dates," I said, mostly because I knew it would make him squirm.

"Well, I tried to book a moonlit carriage ride around the park for the evening, dear, but then I realized we didn't live in a shitty romance novel."

I grinned. "You doing anything tonight?"

"Mhm. Woody's with the guys later."

"Have a good time."

"Do you want to go?"

"Not this time. I've got a lot of homework to catch up on." Maybe if I got done, I'd draw a bit, too. I had a new Rage and JT story I was working on.

I kissed him goodbye when he left a few hours later and sat down with a pile of school work. After three hours or so during which a small dent was made in my work, I was starting to regret going to the movies at all. Except...well, not really, because it had been pretty great. The movie, as I'd told Brian, had thoroughly sucked, but that was besides the point.

Brian got home around two-thirty in the morning, long after I'd given up on homework for the night and started drawing instead. I was happily concentrating on the proportions of Rage's dick when he came in, looking rather somber. I expected him to smell like booze or at least like another guy, but I didn't smell anything of the sort when he kissed me.

"How was Woody's?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "The usual. Annihilated Ted in pool, got a blow job from a hot guy with no talent to speak of. What are you working on?"

I held it out for him to see. "Just Rage again."

He glanced down at my sketchpad. "Impressive."

"Thanks."

"I meant Rage's cock."

I laughed and shoved him away.

He suggested that we shower together before bed, so I put aside my sketches for the time being and followed him to the bathroom. He groped my ass and kissed me for a while before finally dropping to his knees and sucking me off. I happily reciprocated, and though I choked a bit when he came in my mouth, heat rising in my face, he assured me that I'd done a much better job than the guy he'd had earlier who had nearly gnawed his dick off. He kissed me again afterward, his tongue sweeping inside my mouth and tasting the traces of come left behind.

As a result of our activities in the shower, we were both sleepy when we finished and climbed into bed. We fell asleep almost at once and didn't wake up until morning.

~.~

The next day, a Saturday, we went to the diner for breakfast. It was more crowded than I liked, but Brian stuck close to me and sat on the outside of the booth so that he could act as a shield between me and the rest of the diner. I appreciated him so much sometimes for just doing things like that.

"Hey, boys," said Emmett's cheerful voice. I looked up to see him and Ted making their way toward us. Emmett sat down next to Michael, who was sitting across from me. Ted, wincing and holding his back, squeezed in beside them. Though Michael still looked half asleep and Ted simply looked agonized, Emmett was bouncing around as though he'd already had three cups of coffee.

"Isn't it a fabulous day?" he asked of all of us.

"Beautiful," agreed Michael dully. "What's with you?"

"Lindsay called this morning— " began Ted.

"Shh, let me tell it," said Emmett. He turned to the rest of us. "Lindsay called the morning. She wants me to plan a party at the gallery!"

There was a collective outbreak of congratulations.

"It's wonderful, isn't it? Me, planning parties?" he sighed happily.

"Well, it was either that or become a hair dresser," said Brian. "We queers are talented in so few areas."

"I think it's great," said Ted, smiling.

"Aww, thanks, baby." And then Em and Ted were kissing and Brian was pretending to vomit all over the table.

"Hey, how's your back doing?" Michael asked Ted when he and Emmett finally broke apart.

"Hurts like hell," answered Ted promptly. "I spent the whole night in bed, and believe me, it was nowhere near as fun as it sounds."

"What happened to your back?" I asked.

"Theodore, a man your age just can't handle certain sex positions any more. You're not twenty anymore...or thirty, for that matter...."

Emmett patted Ted's arm sympathetically and gave Brian a reproachful look. "He threw it out at the gym. I told him not to push himself, but he had to go lifting the biggest barbells in the place—"

"Wait," I interrupted. "Wait, you were in bed all last night?"

"Yeah, and before any of you think to make any wise remarks, there was nothing remotely sexual about lying there in a haze of pain and drugs and—"

"I thought you beat Ted at pool last night?" I said, cutting across him and looking at Brian.

Emmett looked at Ted, obviously confused. I was frowning at Brian, but he was avoiding my eyes.

"You told me you were at Woody's last night, and that you beat Ted at pool," I said slowly.

Ted and Emmett exchanged looks. "I can tell you, sweetie, Teddy didn't make it out of bed all night," said Emmett.

"Were you there?" I asked him, then turned to Michael. "Or you?"

Their hesitant expressions were answer enough.

"Okay, so you weren't at Woody's with the guys." They were all staring at us now, Michael and Emmett and Ted, but I didn't care. I was irritated and angry about being lied to. Again, because I knew this couldn't be the first time. He "forgot" things at the office just a little too often, or went out and came home without any trace of alcohol or anything on his breath. What was he doing, if he wasn't at work or out with our friends? "Where were you? What were you doing?"

Brian didn't say a word, but began shredding bits of napkin, clearly at a loss.

Okay, so Brian had lied to me. Brian, Mr. No Apologies, No Regrets was hiding something. And here was irrefutable proof, for once. A sick sort of anger pounded through me on top of the embarrassment I already felt as the eyes of everyone at the table except Brian turned to me.

I began pushing at him, trying to get out of the booth. Suddenly the last thing I wanted was to be there with them all, especially him. "Let me out. Now."

He did as I asked, and when he started to follow me, I snapped at him to leave me alone. I didn't know what I was going to do or where I was going to go, because already I could feel the edge of panic creeping in, but I pushed open the diner door and strode out into the street.

I knew without looking back that he was following me, but I sped up and had gotten a street away when he caught up and grabbed my arm.

"Leave me alone," I barked at him, yanking out of his grip. I started to cross the street again, but then a throng of people passed and I hung back. Fuck.

"Come back to the fucking car before you have a panic attack, Justin."

"Why? What are you going to tell me this time?" I demanded. "Why the fuck are you lying to me, anyway? What could you possibly have to hide? It's not like you're cheating on me if you fuck someone else."

The idea of Brian lying to my face was disconcerting, to say the least. Brian didn't even do the type of lying most people did to spare the feelings of others. He was honest to a fault, and that was something I appreciated and respected in him. Or at least, I used to.

"Will you quit being a fucking drama princess?" he said, a hint of impatience in his voice, which only irritated me further. "Come on. Let's go back to the car and I'll explain."

I eyed him dubiously for a moment, then grudgingly agreed to follow him back to the car. I refused to reach for his hand on the way back, even though I could feel a certain tightness in my chest that made me want to seek comfort.

We reached the car and got inside, but he didn't immediately start it.

"Look..." he began, but didn't continue.

"Tell me what the fuck's going on," I said quietly. "Tell me now. Is it some other guy? What have you been doing when you go off at night?"

He looked around the parking lot. "Let's go home. I don't want to get into it all here— there's a lot I have to explain."

I snorted. "Fine. Drive, then."

He looked like he wanted to protest my order, but thought better of it and turned the key in the ignition.

We didn't speak the whole way home. He kept looking over at me, as though he wanted to say something, but didn't. I sat with my arms crossed all the way back to the loft, then got out as soon as he'd parked and headed for the building, leaving him behind.

As soon as the loft door shut behind us, I turned on him.

"So? Tell me."

He sighed and tossed his keys on the counter. "First of all, there was a good reason why I didn't tell you."

"Tell me what?"

He looked as though he was choosing his words very carefully. "I've been...working on some things."

"'Working on some things?'" I repeated. "What, like in therapy or something?" I mean, god knew he had enough issues to work on.

"No. I don't actually have a therapist."

I raised my eyebrows. My anger, which had abated slightly since I'd stormed out of the diner, now returned with a vengeance. "So what, you fucking lied to me about that, too? What the hell, Brian?"

"I had a good reason..."

"Then fucking TELL ME IT!" I yelled as something snapped inside me. "I fucking had to tell you EVERYTHING. You know fucking EVERYTHING I've been thinking and feeling and fucking dreaming about for months! And you don't tell me SHIT."

He was looking sort of angry himself now. I felt a vindictive sense of satisfaction at this thought. Good. Let him get angry. Let him get angry and hurt, too.

"I didn't tell you shit BECAUSE I know every fucking thing you think!" he countered, stepping toward me. "I've had to listen to fucking HOURS of you crying and telling me and Kathy how they made you want to DIE and how they all just fucking got away with everything. What the fuck was I supposed to do, turn a deaf ear?"

"What does that have to do with—"

"You tried to kill yourself!" he hissed. "You tried to jump off a goddamn roof, remember? The night after I told you Sapperstein was walking free. And the first time the idea occurred to me to do something about it, it was the morning after your fucking suicide mission. All I could think about in the beginning...hours of digging and networking, trying to find even the smallest bit of incriminating evidence...was you, on that goddamn roof, getting ready to jump because your attacker got off!”

I blinked, opening my mouth to respond, then closing it again when nothing came out. I felt something like shame bubbling in my stomach at the reminder of how much damage that night on the roof had done, but there was something else I was focusing on.

"What do you mean, 'do something about it?'" I repeated. "Do what?"

He turned away from me, resting his forearms on the counter. "I wanted to make him feel that." His voice was soft and deadly, hatred in his tone such as that I'd only ever heard when he spoke of him. “I wanted to make him feel what you were feeling that night. And I wanted to make sure that you never fucking felt like that again, that the bastard never got the chance to hurt anymore than he already has."

“Brian...”

"I wanted to hurt him. Unfortunately, killing wasn't the most practical solution." A small, dark smile tugged at his lips. He kept his eyes on the counter.

Now I was sort of scared as well as angry. "What are you talking...what did you do?" I asked, moving a little closer automatically.

Finally, fucking finally, he looked at me. "I want his life. I want him— to want to die, the way he made you want to die."

His words were nothing more than whisper, but they sent chills up my spine as if they were nails on a chalkboard.

"Brian...tell me..." I said, my voice sounding oddly hollow even to my own ears. "Tell me what you did."

He sat down at the counter, fidgeting almost absentmindedly with one of the little jars on top of it. "Well, I'm sure it's not necessary for me to point out that Gary Sapperstein isn't exactly a model citizen?”

I shook my head, my heart jumping into my throat at the mention of him.

“I've been...talking to some people.”

I took a seat beside him, never taking my eyes off him, even though he once again seemed overcome by the inability to look at me. “What kind of people?”

Brian shrugged. “Guys I know. Guys they know. Carl Horvath,” he added.

“About...for what? How are you...what?" I asked, wishing I had enough information to be angry again instead of simply wondering what the hell was going on and what the fuck he'd done.

He sighed, a deep, weary sigh. “People who could help me figure things out. People who know Sapperstein, or worked for him, or dealt drugs to him. It's been hard...the fucker knows how to cover his ass. Friends help him out. He's got cop friends and lawyer friends and asshole friends from every walk of life. But it's hard to cover up all he does. I mean, they could basically choose any random law and chances are he's broken it at some point. But there were a few people who were able and willing to help.”

“Help do what?” I was tired of this, being kept in the dark, guessing with these clues as they were revealed to me little by little. But as much as I wanted to hold onto it, my anger was abating, rapidly being replaced with a kind of apprehensive curiosity.

He hesitated. “Help me find someone willing to talk. Help me expose him for what he is," he said darkly. "A fucking drug addict, for one. They'd find more shit in his goddamn car than in a meth lab. And, uh—a sex offender. I mean, he's never been convicted for anything, but...."

His eyes were distant, his expression one of revulsion as I waited for him to answer my unspoken question.

He cleared his throat. "You name it, he's done it. It turns out he was involved with some underage hustlers. Not exactly a far a leap from a scumbag rapist, but still. Plus, I had a contact who put me in touch with someone who used to dance at Babylon years ago, when he was about your age. He quit after a couple of months, after things got out of control after work one night. Turns out he caught the eye of one of Sapperstein's friends, so they slipped something in his drink after his shift one night, and...."

I felt a lump rise in my throat and blinked rapidly, staring at the counter, grateful that he hadn't finished his sentence. How many fucking guys had that asshole done this to?

"Anyway, he gave me the names of some of the other boys he used to work with. And I got in touch with a guy who works at Babylon now, paid him off, and got access to the employee records."

"Employee records?" I asked, frowning. "What for?"

"I've been tracking down the ones who only lasted a few months. Calling and emailing...meeting with the ones still in Pittsburgh. You and the other dancer are far from the only ones who have a story to tell about the fucker. He had routine," he said somberly. "He'd hire hot young guys and exchange sexual favors for promotions, pay raises, shit like that. Some quit before that, but the ones who went along with it usually had a limit to how much they were willing to put up with. If the Sap knew he wouldn't be able to get what he wanted from them voluntarily, he had friends good for that, too. They'd supply him with the drugs he needed, and in return the asshole dealers were allowed to rape the guy he'd drugged."

At his words, a dark memory tugged at my mind. "Payment," I whispered, suddenly feeling nauseous. "That's...one of them said it, right before he...he raped me. He told Gary he wanted to collect his payment."

A shadow seemed to come over Brian's face. So that was what that had been. My body had been the sick fucker's reward for supplying the Sap with the drugs he'd given me— probably the ones he'd put in my drink that had made my head spin.

"How many?" I asked quietly, as if hoping he wouldn't hear me. I wasn't so sure I wanted to know the answer. But then I had to, didn't I? I had to know how many others had ended up just like me. "How...how long?"

He looked at me as though he knew exactly what I was thinking. "Four that say they know exactly what happened, like you. He invited them to parties and drugged them so he and his friends could take advantage. A few more swear something happened to them, but don't have a clear memory. And a few more told me nothing happened, but I'm pretty sure were lying."

"So...."

"So, about a dozen over the last eight or nine years."

I shook my head. There was suddenly so much to take in. Gary Sapperstein had been raping men for nine years. There were at least twelve others who had suffered at his hands the same way I had. He ran it like a business...used his business to lure in victims desperate for a job, used them for as long as they were willing, then took what he wanted when they were no longer willing to give it.

"And no one ever came forward?"

"Well, that was something else the Sap thought of. He made sure he never attacked two current employees, so they never had a chance to know each other or talk. He always made sure the guys he hurt were long gone before he did it to someone else. That way, they'd all think they were alone. But there were two who filed police reports. One was the dancer from a few months ago, the one we heard about— his name's Shawn. He didn't want to talk about it much, but he told me the Sap had come by to have a conversation with him after he found out he'd gone to the police. Whatever he said, it made him change his mind. He started retracting his story and telling everyone he'd made it up."

"What about the other one?"

"He said he couldn't remember exactly what happened, and didn't go to the hospital, so there was no evidence. He just dropped the charges and tried to move on."

"Can't blame him," I said, completely understanding the other two guys' reluctance to come forward. "Brian...he's hurt so many people. And he just keeps getting away with it."

But far from looking horrified and dejected, the way I certainly felt, Brian was looking strangely triumphant.

"Well, that's not exactly true."

"What do you mean?" I asked, wondering how he could possibly expect to make me feel better about any of this.

"I mean, it's taken me forever, but...I've been working a few leads."

I stared at him. "Why do you sound like a cop?"

"Because I've been doing a shitload of detective work. I've hunted down practically every person the Sap's ever known. Employees, friends, dealers...you name it."

"And— why?"

His voice was carefully controlled when he spoke, as if it was all he could do to keep it from shaking. "Because practically all the people he's been involved with know something about him that could incriminate him. First of all, there's his other victims. Like I said, at least four of them I've talked to know exactly what happened to them, including an old bartender, Matt. I've been talking to him for a while now, and I think I've pretty much got him convinced. He's going to file a police report and drag the Sap to court. He says it'll feel fucking good to get back at him, even if it's just to scare him and he doesn't get convicted. There's also a guy I just recently got a hold of— Joe— he used to be a fuck buddy of Sapperstein's, basically, but broke it off when things started getting out of hand."

"What do you mean? Did he...?"

"He didn't hurt Joe, no. But Joe used to be right in Gary's inner circle— one of the assholes who got invited to his parties. He was there the night Matt was raped, among other nights. He says he always felt bad for not doing anything to help the boys, but didn't step in or turn Gary in out of loyalty and the fear of getting implicated himself," said Brian, his mouth twisted in distaste. "I have a feeling Sapperstein could also tell some stories about Joe, too, which probably didn't make him any more eager to tell anyone what he'd done. But anyway, I told Joe some of the things I've found out, about the dozen or so other guys the Sap's hurt, and he's agreed to come forward as a witness to Matt's rape if it gets taken to court."

I gaped at him. "So...he'll be arrested? He'll go to court and have a trial and everything?"

"He'll go to court, but the rate of conviction for rape isn't high. We're hoping that with Matt's physical evidence and Joe's story, it'll be enough. Matt did go to the hospital afterward, so they've definitely got DNA to link him to Sapperstein. But you can bet Sap will have a lawyer arguing that Matt wanted it and Joe's lying or some shit," said Brian bitterly. "I wouldn't be surprised if he tries to discredit Joe and say he was in on it too."

My mind was racing. I tried to collect it enough to form a cohesive thought, but before I could, Brian was continuing.

"There was also another guy I talked to who was invited to those parties pretty regularly. Apparently he and the Sap had a mutual scumbag friend who used to attend them too, and he says the guy's got damn well near irrefutable evidence. Videos," he said when I looked at him questioningly.

I felt my stomach lurch again. "He's got...of guys being...?"

He nodded, looking quite as sick as I felt. "Two or three, at least. Different parties. Apparently he just couldn't resist making a few home movies. And the guy I talked to, Gary's old friend, he says the tapes are most likely still around somewhere. We're having some trouble finding him, but once we do Carl's going to get a warrant and see if we can find those videos. If we do, we've got a much better chance of convicting him. He could always make his arguments, but there'll be a hell of a lot of evidence against him, then. And not just against Sapperstein— it's even better, because if there's a video we might be able to get even more of the fuckers that were involved. So, that's the big thing we're trying to get him on. There are also possession charges— we'll definitely get him on drug possession. We think the reason the Sap's been getting away with that for so long is because of one friend in particular who's been covering his ass for him, so if we get him for possession, too, it'll hopefully destroy his prestigious career and ruin any chance he has of helping the Sap in the process."

I shook my head as wave upon wave of new information washed over me, then began to sink in. "So you think...he might pay? He might really pay? Is that what you're saying?"

He pressed his lips together, an odd look in his eyes that was some peculiar mixture of sadness and joy. "I'm saying it's very possible that at some point, he'll end up in fucking prison where he belongs. It's not set in stone until it's done, but with a victim testifying and with the drugs and possibly the tapes...it's possible, even likely."

I wiped at my eyes, which were suddenly burning and rather watery. "And do you know if...when these videos were made?"

He cleared his throat, as if he too were losing his grip on his emotions. "I don't know if they've got one of you, if that's what you're asking."

His voice was gentle, but I felt as though I'd been kicked in the stomach at the same time as my heart leaped— something bad and good at the same time. What if there was a video of me? What if I suddenly had a flawless, complete recollection of that horrible night back in my life?

What if I could use it against him?

"And um...." I sniffed, trying to force my mind off the thought of a video that might not even exist. "Why didn't you tell me any of this? You've been lying to me...for so long...why didn't you tell me?"

He was quiet for a moment. When he answered, he didn't look at me, but stared at the counter again as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. "If there was a chance it didn't work out and my leads didn't go anywhere... I didn't want to let you down. Not again, after what happened the last time."

"You've never let me down," I said softly. "Pissed me off sometimes, maybe, but you've never let me down. It was shitty of you to fucking lie to me."

"I know." He looked ashamed. It was such an odd look on Brian, and I felt what little composure I'd held onto up til now starting to crack.

It was true; it was fucking shitty of him to lie. But on the other hand— I supposed I could understand. It wasn't like I hadn't done the exact same thing at one point. I'd kept my fair share of secrets, lied to him the same way he'd lied to me, and about something just as big. He wasn't the only one of us to lie because of his fears.

"I love that you try to protect me," I said, reaching over to touch his arm. He jumped as if startled and looked at me, and if I wasn't mistaken there was a certain apprehension in his eyes. "But don't fucking lie to me anymore, Brian. You have to trust that I can handle things. I'm here, aren't I?"

My hand slid up to his neck now, and though he opened his mouth to say something, I leaned in to kiss him, and he seemed to find that a better use for his mouth, anyway. I had to agree.

"Sorry," he whispered as we pulled away slightly. His words were so quiet I almost didn't catch them, but the corners of his mouth twitched, and I knew I hadn't imagined his apology.

“I thought sorry was bullshit?” I challenged. Our faces were still very close together, and now his arm came up to wrap around my back.

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I used to think a lot of things were bullshit.”

He rolled his lips into his mouth in that fucking adorable way of his, and as a fluent speaker of the Kinney language, I caught the double meaning. He used to think I was bullshit in a way, after all, and everything I was to him.

"It's not enough," he continued, and for a moment I didn't know what he was talking about. "Putting the Sap away— it's not enough. I know it doesn't erase what he did to you. But at least he'd be off the streets, and I figure since we can't kill him, prison is the next best thing. Maybe he'll even get a taste of his own fucking medicine in there."

"It is enough." No, it didn't erase what he'd done to me, Brian was right about that. But it was far, far more than I ever thought we'd have; I thought we'd never have real justice, and now Brian had gone and made sure we did. "This is amazing. I can't believe you did this. Digging up all the shit he's done...."

He was still looking a little uneasy, as if not completely sure if I'd forgiven him or not. But how the fuck was I supposed to be angry at him still? He had done this...this wonderful, amazing thing...for me. Sapperstein was going to pay. Because Brian was fucking going to make him pay. Even if it wasn't set in stone yet, I could feel it. Whatever Brian said, Sapperstein was at least going to have people standing up to him, and that was a victory in itself.

I cleared my throat. "I don't know what to say, besides...thank you."

"You don't have to—"

"Yes, I do," I said, seizing the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss before he could finish his bullshit sentence.

I didn't know how to ever thank him for this. I'd never been so grateful for anyone, never been more moved by anything. “Thank you— I love you. I love you so fucking much,” I muttered, kissing him again and again, unable to get enough. “I can't believe you did this for me."

“Sapperstein did it all himself. I just helped drag it all up again."

But I ignored this bullshit, too, and pushed my tongue in his mouth. God, I would never be able to love him enough for this. Finally, I pulled away, resting my forehead against his.

I wanted to tell him so many things. In that moment, I wanted to just let the words flow, tell him that he was my own personal fucking hero and that I loved him so much, and that he was the most amazing person I'd ever known in my entire life, and that I owed him everything for this.

He was going to pay. God, he was going to pay. Gary Sapperstein's luck had finally run out. Or maybe Brian Kinney had simply stolen it from under his feet.

After one enthusiastic blow job from me and a heartily returned reciprocation from Brian, we finally got around to eating, both of our stomachs rumbling as a result of our missed breakfast.

I told him I loved him, and he smiled at me over our toast and said he loved me, too.

As if I didn't already know.

~.~

Two weeks after our talk, Brian came home from work with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Was he hot?" I asked, smiling at his exuberance when he gave me a very enthusiastic kiss that left me feeling a little dazed.

"Who?"

"The guy you fucked," I said, glancing over my shoulder at him as I dug a Thai menu out of a kitchen drawer. "Isn't that why you're looking so happy?"

He laughed. "Not this time, Sunshine. Guess what happened today?"

Well, if it didn't have to do with sex... "You landed a huge account?"

"No. Well, yes, but that's not what it is."

I waited for him to elaborate, then realized he was still expecting me to guess. "You, uh...bought a new suit?"

"Guess again."

"I don't know," I admitted. "No idea. Do you want Thai tonight? I'm starving."

"Thai's fine. But I've got something even better."

I raised an eyebrow. "What...Chinese?"

He just grinned at me. "Sapperstein and his asshole friend got arrested today. Drug possession."

I stared at him, completely forgetting about dinner. "Are you serious?" My heart slammed madly against my ribcage. A grin slowly broke out across my face; I hardly dared to believe it.

"Yeah. He's in deep shit trouble," said Brian with deep-seated satisfaction. "Carl says he had enough crystal on him to get him put away for a couple of years even, especially if it turns out he was planning on dealing it."

I gave a stupid, excited little jump and threw my arms around Brian. He returned my embrace, and I grinned and laughed against his lips when he kissed me.

~. Brian .~

We just stood there in the kitchen for several minutes, giddiness giving way to fervor as our kisses deepened. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind. Sapperstein was going to suffer, was going to pay. Justin wasn't pissed at me, though he had every right to be, but was standing here with his arms around me, so grateful to me for seeking justice on his behalf.

"Brian?" he said softly, sounding apprehensive as he pulled away. "What about those other leads?

His jubilant smile had faded, and he looked almost timid.

"Joe still says he'll testify against him, and Matt says he'll file the police report as soon as he talks to his partner about what happened to him."

"And...the other thing?"

"We haven't found the video guy yet."

I thought I knew what was responsible for the anxious look on his face, but I didn't ask if it was because he wanted there to be a video of him or if it was because he was scared that there was.

Personally, I wasn't sure if I wanted there to be a video of him or not— on one hand, the evidence could help not only in getting Sapperstein convicted, but getting him convicted for the crime that had sparked my intense desire to punish him in the first place. On the other hand, I didn't know if either of us could stand to see it. It would kill him, and I was pretty sure that if I had to view such a thing at any point, my commendable efforts to restrain my murderous urges where the Sap was concerned would cease to be enough.

"I've been thinking," he said, speaking slowly as if he was choosing every word with deliberate care, "that maybe I should press charges, too."

"Press charges?" I repeated. "Are you...?"

"I'm not sure, no," he answered my unfinished question. "But I'm thinking about it. Maybe...I could do it. I don't know. I mean, there probably wouldn't be evidence unless there's a video."

"Even if there's nothing of you, there'll be a witness who's seen him rape at least one other guy, plus another victim who has concrete evidence that something happened and that Sap was involved, and then hopefully the tapes," I reminded him. "We're building a good case against him. What you have to say— that can only help."

Justin testifying, even if nothing came of it...that was such a fucking huge thing for him. Something a lot like pride burst open in my chest and pulled a small smile onto my lips.

"We can talk to Melanie later, if you want. See if she can help us, if you decide to do it."

He nodded, looking a bit preoccupied, and I suddenly knew this had been on his mind ever since I'd told him what was going on. Of course it had.

"I could stand up to him. I never did that with Chris Hobbes," he said quietly, letting out a breath. "I just don't want to be afraid of him anymore."

I threaded my fingers through his hair. Fuck, he was so goddamn brave. And I knew, beyond a doubt, that if he faced the Sap, Justin would come out triumphant.

And I would be there with him while he did it, every step of the way.

~.~

We had a pleasant Thai dinner that night, during which we talked about anything and everything, including and moving beyond the shit with Sapperstein. We sat on the floor in the living room and drank wine until we were both tipsy. He was getting giggly, laughing at stupid things I said, which made me want to say them all the more. His laugh was a fucking turn on.

Finally, this resulted in me just leaning right across to his side of the floor cushion and kissing him hard on the mouth. He started to giggle, but this really wasn't a giggling sort of moment, and he quickly shut up when I slid my tongue in his mouth.

He seemed to sober up a little as he kissed me back, so that our playful kisses quickly became impassioned and intense. I moved aside his wine glass just in time as we fell onto the cushions, very nearly knocking both red-wine-filled glasses over onto the white material.

His hands moved deftly beneath my shirt, over my chest, tugging at the fabric. I took a moment to appreciate how fucking far he'd come. There was nobody between us, nobody holding me back from kissing him and touching him and pulling off his clothes. The scumbags who'd hurt him— they weren't even in his head right now, I could tell. It was just the two of us.

The air was cool against my naked skin, but his body was hot in more ways than one. Dying spring light filtered in from the window, playing across his skin and giving it a beautiful golden hue. His legs came up to wrap around my waist, holding me securely, right where he wanted me. Right where I wanted to be.

"I love that you'd do anything for me," he said in my ear, his fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of my neck.

The words seemed to echo inside my head, because I'd heard them once before in my jeep, right before our lives had blown up in our faces. This time, though, I wasn't going to pretend what I'd done wasn't really for him. It always had been, and we both knew it.

So I met his eyes, so loving and trusting and fuck, I'd never had anyone look at me quite the way he did. And I whispered back, "Any time," and he smiled that fucking amazing smile of his and kissed me again.

I wanted to draw this out as long as possible, but it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore the stiffness between both of our legs. So I reached down at last and took him in my hand, giving him a few slow, leisurely strokes.

His breath caught and his head fell back, his eyes closed. He was the hottest sight I'd ever seen, but right when I decided to take him in my mouth, his eyes popped open.

"Brian...wait a second..."

I stopped at once, letting go of him and starting to sit up.

"No, don't go," he said, pulling me back down on top of him. "Sorry, I'm okay...I didn't mean that...."

I brushed his hair back from his forehead, marveling at how soft the strands of blond were between my fingers. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he assured me, shaking his head. "Nothing, I promise."

But as I watched, a look of apprehension came over his face. He looked as though he was having a fierce debate with himself about something, and then he reached around under the cushion. For a second, I wondered what the hell he was doing, but then he pulled out a small square package that I recognized at once. I blinked; I'd forgotten I'd had one of those under there.

He held it up between two fingers, an anxious smile on his face. "You want me safe, right? And around for a long time?"

I huffed a laugh, and so did he, which helped to diffuse the tension somewhat.

"Twat," I muttered. "Do you always remember everything I say?"

"Just the important stuff."

We both smiled, but nerves took over quickly as he ripped open the package. At least his hands weren't trembling this time. We hadn't tried to do anything requiring a condom since that first failed attempt a few weeks ago. He'd been able to let me use my fingers on him once more since then, but that was it.

"Are you sure?" I asked as he removed the little latex ring from its wrapper. "Maybe...why don't you wear it?"

A small grin flashed across his face at my suggestion, but he shook his head. "No. I want you inside me— at least the first time."

So I sat up a little and let him roll the condom onto my dick. His hands were now starting to shake, but I didn't say anything.

He had one of our lube packets in his hand now, too, but before he could open it, I took it from him and just kissed him, long and deep. The last thing we needed was to rush this, especially if he was already so nervous he was trembling.

His hands stilled after a while, though, and came up to curl in my hair and touch my ear and my face. Sometimes it still amazed me that he could trust me the way he did. Of course I would never hurt him, never give him a reason to be afraid of me, but after what he'd gone through, it was a miracle that he still wanted to be with me or any guy at all.


He broke our kiss, and at my questioning look, let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. "I'm okay. Just really nervous."

I opened my mouth to ask him if he wanted to stop, then thought better of it. He knew what he could handle and what he couldn't— I had to trust him. "Don't be. It's me— we've done this hundreds of times before."

He nodded and let out a deep breath. "Just...take it easy, okay?"

I was torn between rolling my eyes in amusement and making a rather lesbianic comment myself. I settled for a combination of the two.

"Like the first time?" I asked, rolling my eyes and grinning weakly at him.

He nodded. "Like both of them."

I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but then he was kissing me again, and all I wanted to do then was get lost with him. In him. Because every fucking thing had changed since the first time, and there was no going back, ever. Not after this. Not after everything.

Because now I fucking loved him.

~. Justin .~

I asked him to take it easy, like our first times— the first time we'd fucked, and the first time we'd made love, in this loft, after the bashing.

And here was a third 'first time' of ours— our first after the party, after he'd said he loved me, after nearly what, nine fucking months? Fuck, had it really been that long? Sometimes it seemed like forever, and sometimes it all could feel so fresh still.

I winced when he slid his finger inside me, partly because it was uncomfortable and partly because the lube was cold. He kept kissing me, though, which was nice, so I tried to concentrate on that and relax while he opened me up.

It hurt when he pushed the second one in, but when the third one went in beside it I started to get that just-out-of-reach tingle of pleasure. I moaned and jerked against his hand involuntarily when he hit that oh-so-sweet spot inside.

"Mmm...you okay?"

"Fine. That feels good."

He continued to work his fingers in and out of my hole, establishing a steady rhythm. It really was starting to feel good, pleasure slowly replacing my discomfort, and when he brushed against my prostate again I let out a string of mingled expletives and encouragement.

I kept my eyes on him through all of this, taking in every detail of every feature I loved about him: the darker hue of his eyes when he was turned on, his slightly parted lips, his rapt expression as he watched me writhing in pleasure beneath him. He was fucking beautiful. How had I once described his face to Daphne? 'The face of God?' I tried not to laugh, because this really wasn't a laughing moment, but I did smile a bit at the memory.

"You look hot like this." His voice interrupted my thoughts, and I realized now he was jerking himself off with the hand that wasn't partially up my ass.

I looked at him, and he held my gaze, and I knew, whether it worked or not....

We had to try.

I was so fucking ready to try.

"Do it," I said suddenly. "Brian, please...I want you."

He looked at me so intensely right then that it made me squirm. It was like he was trying to see inside me.

"Are you—"

"Yes." I nodded fervently, wanting there to be no question in his mind, either. "Fuck, yes."

This last whispered word seemed to convince him. Slowly, he pulled his fingers from my body, now slick with lube, and grabbed the base of his dick instead. I took a deep breath and let it out again as he moved over me, guiding his dick to my hole.

I wanted to say that I loved him, but then the head of his sheathed dick was pushing inside and the words caught in my throat. I was nervous, but I wasn't scared. He loved me and I fucking loved him more than anything in the world, and it was the furthest thing from that night, and right now that whole nightmare was last thing I wanted to think about.

Because I had him. I had Brian, who loved me and would do anything for me, who had done so much just to get me through.

There was a sharp sort of burn as he pushed inside; it had been a fucking long while, after all. But fucking finally, he was inside me again, really inside me. I gave a little cry that was partially of pain and partially of pleasure and leaned back against the cushion. He kissed my exposed neck and jaw and inched a little further inside when I leaned up to kiss him back.

He paused when he'd pushed all the way in, looking down at me, asking the silent question. I kissed him in a wordless answer, and he began to pull out again, only to thrust achingly slowly back inside me.

He soon fell into a sweet, slow rhythm. He never took his eyes off me except to close them when we kissed. I wrapped my legs tight around him and pulled him deeper in me with every thrust.

It felt even better than I remembered. We rocked together, our bodies in sync with each other. He moved faster when I squeezed his hips with my legs and seemed to know right when to slow down. I'd wondered for so long if it would be different or awkward. It was different. It wasn't awkward in the least, but it was different for sure. It was careful and almost tentative, and I knew it would be a while before either of us felt truly, completely comfortable in this again without it being in our minds in any way. But I also felt more connected to him than ever, and I knew there was no cause for worry just because it wasn't the same as it was. We'd made it this far; we could do anything. We'd get there eventually.

I wasn't sure how long it lasted, but by the time we'd both found our release, I was thoroughly exhausted, both physically and emotionally. He collapsed on top of me after coming, and I held him there for a long time. Eventually, though, it became too much to just have his whole weight on me, so I tapped him gently and he took that as the cue it was. He sat up just long enough to tie off the condom and toss it aside and then he was back with me, his hands roaming over my skin like he couldn't get enough, his soothing words washing over me.

"Are you okay?"

I nodded, tucking my head against his shoulder and trying to sort of collect my bearings. "Yeah. Just overwhelmed. But in a good way. That was so great....I've missed you...."

He kissed the side of my head and just let me hold onto him— cling to him, really. I wasn't anywhere near ready to get up and move from this spot, especially if it meant letting go for even a second. He seemed okay with that: he was clinging right back.

I wasn't sure when we were going to be able to do it all again, but that was okay. Brian would understand, and besides— that one time had been more than I'd dared to hope for at one point. And it had been better than I could have asked for. I could still feel him inside me, and hoped that feeling wouldn't fade before we did it again.

The cushions were soft and comfortable below us, the faint light from the window just enough to outline our abandoned wine glasses and food a few feet away. I took refuge against his body as he did the same against mine, wrapping himself around me.

He fell asleep first, his head burrowed into my neck. I stayed awake for a while longer, watching the rest of the evening light give way to night, a peaceful sort of darkness enveloping us inside the loft, here on our cushion, naked and entwined together. Unable to keep my thoughts from drifting, I thought about Sapperstein and where he was now. I wondered if he'd ever know that it was Brian who had orchestrated the shit storm he would soon be in the dead center of. He couldn't have imagined, that night he'd done that to me, that it would someday turn out to be one of the biggest mistakes he'd ever made. I wondered if he would, someday in the distant future, come to regret all the horrible things he'd done. Probably not, at least not for the right reasons, and though I wished I could make him sorry, Brian had ensured that he'd feel the pain he'd caused so many people. That was more than enough.

I ran my fingers through Brian's hair, which tickled my chin and neck. His breath came in soft puffs against my collar bone. I smoothed his hair back and kissed the top of his head, loving him so much in that moment that I thought my chest might burst.

Later tomorrow, when we woke up, we'd take a shower to get my come off of us, and probably we would exchange blow jobs. We'd go to the diner for breakfast like we did most weekends, and maybe we'd walk a little and shop together.

He'd want to look at clothes, and I'd tease him but would accompany him inside the high-end shop. Or maybe I'd go ahead to my favorite little art store by myself, because I could, and he'd find me later and I'd explain to him in detail all the naked portraits of him I would do with new pencils or new paints. We would barely make it home before we were all over each other, and maybe— just maybe— I could have him inside me again.

There were some things that divided your life into a before and after, I decided. Some turning points that, once you reached them, you could never go back. Good things, like falling in love. And bad things, too, like getting bashed or being raped. Some things just changed you forever; you could never feel the same because you weren't the same anymore.

Things happened. Life changed. Sometimes permanently.

And maybe that was okay. Maybe that was how it was supposed to be.

Brian shifted against me and I kissed his hair one more time before closing my eyes, still holding him tightly. I felt exhausted and more fucking awake and alive than I ever had in my life, my head spinning with a thousand thoughts and emotions. He was snoring a little, I was uncomfortably sticky from own come, and I knew we'd both wake up tomorrow with stiff limbs. My ass was sore, like the way it had been after my first time with him.

And it was all fucking perfect.

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