QAF FanFic by Morpheus


Intermission-09


The Prisoner of Tremont Street

Part 9:  Sleep With Me




Brian

"They're here."  Justin's holding the curtain back, peering out the living room window.  He tells me the ambulance has pulled up to the curb.

It's my first venture outside the loft, I'm excited to breathe fresh air, I'm not excited to be transported by ambulance but this cast won't allow me to get into a car.  Assuming the x-ray turns out okay, this fucking cast comes off today.  Then maybe I get out of this fucking wheelchair. 

Justin pulls on his jacket as he walks over to my desk.  "Brian, maybe I'll just meet you at the hospital."  When I glance at him, his face is totally blank, like an unused page of his sketchbook.

I finish logging off the computer. “Ride in the ambulance with me – they’ve said it’s okay.”

Glancing around the loft, not looking at me, Justin says, "Well, umm, if you need me to, I will.  But otherwise I just think I’d rather, you know, not.”

I grab his hand, pull him closer.  When he looks down at me, I ask, "Riding in the ambulance would freak you out?"

He pulls his hand away, fusses with the collar of his shirt, then turns toward the door, ready to push the buzzer.  "Oh, it'll just probably be too crowded, and anyway, I could drive the jeep there, then I could bring you home."

"Michael's going to meet us at the hospital, he'll drive you to school and bring me home.  We arranged this last week."

"Okay," he says, giving up.  

"Justin," I say to his back, "After the car accident, you rode with me in the ambulance to the hospital, didn’t you?  Was that freaky?"

"I was too worried about you to think about it much."

He didn't really answer my question.  "Because of the first time?  You were unconscious, you can’t remember that, can you?"

He turns around finally and looks at me.  "No.  I can’t.  But I remember sirens.  I think I do.  When I hear one, I get kind of, I don’t know. . .creeped out." 

I know the feeling. 

Justin folds his arms across his chest and just looks at me, saying nothing.

"Did you have dreams afterwards?  After the accident?"  I should have thought to ask him before now.  Why didn’t I think of that?

Justin hesitates, as if deciding how to answer.  Finally he mumbles, "Yeah."

"You didn’t tell me."

"Well duh, Brian," he's getting annoyed.  "I wouldn’t have bothered you with something like that!  I handled it okay."

The intercom buzzes and Justin turns away to answer it, saying tersely, "Top floor."

I can't let go of this information though I can see that Justin doesn't want to talk about it, but I need to be clear.  "So - you've been having bad dreams while you’ve been staying here?  Why didn’t you tell me?"

We can hear the elevator creaking its way upward.  Justin shrugs and keeps his back to me.  "It was okay.  Just a couple.  Not the screaming kind, just the scared-and-sweating kind." 

"Why didn’t you wake me up?  Or come get in bed with me?"

"They're here," Justin announces unnecessarily, the EMTs are bustling out of the elevator and he steps outside the door to greet them.

There's something so hearty, so cheerful, so annoying about EMTs.  They bustle into the loft, they bustle me from the wheelchair and onto a gurney with the back raised so I’m sitting up, they bustle me into the elevator while Justin takes the stairs, then down on the street they bustle me into the ambulance.  I'm doing my best to bear all that energy, all that impersonal cheerfulness without growling something rude at them, and with half my mind I'm processing the knowledge that Justin's still having nightmares. 

While the dark-haired EMT with huge hands rolls the gurney on board and locks it in place, I try to see around him, to get a look at Justin as he waits on the sidewalk.  When the EMT beckons him forward, Justin climbs through the door, and I say, "Wait - he's not going with us."

Justin leans down till his face is close to mine.  "Brian, yes I am, it's okay."

I shake my head.  "Take the jeep - the keys are in my pocket." 

I twist around, trying to reach into my jacket pocket, but Justin puts his hand over mine and says, with gritted teeth, "Never mind, I'm going with you - just shut up, okay?"

One look at his face tells me to just shut up, so I do.  It's his call.

The EMT with a hoop earring, spiky red hair and a great ass is the driver, our escort in the back is Big Hands, who points to a chair wedged in the corner and tells Justin to sit down and fasten the seat belt.  He's still locking the back door as the ambulance pulls away from the curb with a squeal of rubber and races down the street.  Thankfully they don't need to turn on the siren.  I'm facing the wrong way so I can't see Justin, but I stretch out my left arm sideways and behind me, and after a moment I feel Justin slip his hand into mine.  I squeeze his fingers, and we ride like that all the way to the hospital.



Justin

Brian is polite through check-in, through the removal of the cast, the x-ray process, even when they have to do a retake when the first picture doesn’t come out, but by the time we’re in a cubicle waiting for the doctor, he’s starting to lose it.  Michael has joined us, and since they won’t let two people stay with Brian, Michael and I are taking turns. 

After Michael’s first turn, he comes out to find me sitting in the hallway.  “Brian says for me to take you to school and I can come back after dropping you off.”

“No,” I shake my head, “I’m not leaving till he’s seen the doctor.”

Frowning and shoving his hands in his pockets, Michael insists, “He doesn’t need you now, he wants you to go to school, he says you’re missing classes.”

I nod, getting to my feet.  “I’ll go talk to him.”

“Wait.”

Stopping in front of Michael, I mirror his action by shoving my hands in the pockets of my khakis.  Maybe we do that around each other all the time so we don’t start throwing punches.  Although superficially we’re getting along okay now, neither of us really likes the other very much and sometimes, like now, it shows.

I raise my eyebrows at Michael, and he says, keeping his voice low, “Look, your Florence Nightingale routine is very touching, but he no longer needs you 24/7, so it’s time to get on with your life.  He said for you to go to school, so just do it.” 

“Excuse me,” I respond, also quietly, and I walk a half circle around him and enter the room where Brian waits in his curtained cubicle.  I can hear Michael mutter something under his breath but I ignore him and make my way to Brian’s side.

“Hey,” I greet him, his head is turned away and I can see a muscle in his cheek twitching.  He’s obviously reached the end of his patience, so I caution myself to go slowly.  When he turns to look at me, he’s frowning.

“I told Michael to take you to school, you don’t need to hang around here all day.”

“Yeah, I’ll go pretty soon,” I agree, “But we missed lunch, I’m starving, you must be too.”  He shakes his head no but before he can interrupt me, I hurry on.  “I’m going to get us a sandwich, you need a pain pill and you can’t take it on an empty stomach or you’ll throw up.”

“I don’t need a pain pill.” 

“Brian, you’re in a lot of pain right now from them screwing around with your leg, taking the cast off, taking the x-rays.  You think I can’t tell?  Don’t be such a nelly martyr.”

He’s annoyed with me but he almost-jokes, “Martyrs aren’t nelly, they’re tough.”

“Yeah,” I agree, “MOST of them.”

“I’ll get something in the cafeteria before Michael takes me home, besides, you’re probably not allowed to eat in here, and – “

That makes me laugh and I lean against the bed and take his hand.  “You’re probably not allowed to jerk off in here either.”

Brian doesn’t smile, instead he starts to complain again.  “You’re missing school, Justin, you’ve missed too much already.”

Still holding his hand, I weave our fingers together.  “Hey, I’m doing fine in my classes, I’m all caught up, staying at your place has kept me off the streets doing my homework instead of being out dancing every night at Babylon.”

Brian doesn’t pull his hand away.  “You said that wasn’t your thing any more.”

“Sometimes it is,” I contradict him.

“There must be lots of boys at school wanting to go out with you.  While you’re stuck playing nursemaid.” 

“There’s nobody I’m interested in right now.”  It’s the truth, or virtually.  I like Jamie but he’s been ignoring me since the night I accidentally called him Brian.

Relaxing slightly, the corners of his mouth turning up, Brian says, “Bullshit.  Half that school’s probably queer.  Tell me what you’ve been up to on campus.   A horny professor traps you in your studio?  One of those nude models propositions you outside the classroom?”

I arch my eyebrows and start to pull my hand away, pretending to be shocked. 

“Tell me.”

“Okay.”  I give in.  I know what he wants.  “I’ll make up some porn bedtime stories for you.  But let me go get a sandwich first, I’ll be right back.”   Without waiting for Brian’s response, I turn and hurry out of the cubicle and almost run smack into Michael, who’s just coming through the doorway.

“So, are we going now or not?” he grouses at me.

“Not,” I answer briefly, “I’m going to the cafeteria to get Brian something to eat.  Stay with him till I get back.”  I pause and add politely, “You want anything?”

“No, I fucking do not.  Justin, he insisted I take you to school.”

“Well, he’s changed his mind. Be right back.”   And with that I hurry down the hall toward the elevator, luckily I know the layout of the hospital and I’m back with a sandwich and a carton of milk in less than ten minutes.

Brian swings his head to look at me when I push through the curtains and he says to Michael, “Tag.”  Michael jumps up from the chair near the bed and marches past me without a glance.

Pulling out the sandwich from where I’d stashed it inside my jacket, I open the package and hand him half.  “I got egg salad, hope that’s okay.”  Without a word Brian takes it from my hand and gobbles it down in three bites, then I hand him the milk carton and we each have a few sips.  I’ve remembered to bring the bottle of Vicodin from home, I mean from the loft, I was afraid Brian might end up in a lot of pain from them manhandling him, and I quickly unscrew the bottle and hand him one.  “Take it with the rest of the milk, I’m done.”

“Sure?” he asks, holding out the carton, and when I nod he swallows the pill, and he seems to immediately relax.  Probably just knowing the pill will be working soon makes the pain more bearable.

I gather up our garbage and throw it in a wastebasket near the door, just as Dr. Kuchner pulls back the curtain and enters the cubicle.  I couldn’t have timed it better if I’d planned it.

“Mr. Kinney,” the doctor greets him with a  smile, “Good news, your bones are healing well, I’m very pleased with your x-rays.”

“Good,” Brian replies, “So, no more cast?”

“Not that good,” the doctor shakes his head, “You’ll have a new cast for another month or so, but – “

“No.” Brian blurts out before he can stop himself.  I see him biting down hard, to keep from saying anything else, then he quickly turns his head away and stares at the wall.

“Brian, we knew there was going to be a new cast.”  He says nothing, doesn’t acknowledge my words.  I turn to the doctor.  “But it’s going to be smaller, right, doctor?  He’ll be able to get around easier, and ride in a car?”

“Yes,” the doctor switches from looking at Brian and focuses on me instead.  “Although there still cannot be any walking around, the bones cannot take any pressure for another month or so.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ!” Brian yells at the wall.

Ignoring him, I go on, “But he’ll be able to move around easier, and maybe he can go visit friends and so forth?”

“Ye-es, but with extreme caution,” the doctor agrees.  “Most of the time should still be spent in bed, with perhaps an hour or so at a time in a chair or on the sofa, and continued use of the crutches for getting to and from the bed.”

“I have to go back to work,” Brian says to the wall.

“And you can, Brian, just one more month, the doctor says.”  I glance at him, his face is red, he looks ready to explode.  “Right, doctor?”  

“Yes,” he agrees,  then hedges, “Probably.”

Brian whips his head around and demands, “You said I’d be starting physical therapy as soon as the cast was off!”

The doctor nods again.  “Yes, when the new cast comes off in about a month, we can – “

“Fuck that.  Fuck that!”  Brian pulls himself upright in the bed and crosses his arms on his chest.  “I can refuse to have another cast put on, right?  I can walk out of here any time I want to, right?”

Before the doctor can answer, I move close to the bed.  I don’t dare say a word.

“Mr. Kinney, without the new cast, without prolonged bed rest, your bones can’t heal properly, they could snap apart and you’d be starting all over at square one.  If you’re lucky.” 

Brian closes his eyes, shakes his head.  “Christ,” he mumbles.  “Christ.”

The doctor glances at me and says, “Somebody will be in shortly to put on the new cast.  It will be more comfortable, I promise.  Make an appointment for another x-ray in two weeks, and we’ll reassess at that time.  All right?” 

Brian’s saying nothing so I answer for him, “Yes, thank you, we’ll do that.  Thanks, Doctor Kuchner.”

I watch him leave and as soon as he’s out of sight, I murmur, “Brian, right after the accident, the doctor said you’d be in a cast for two or three months, remember?  It’s only been a month.”

“Only.”

“It won’t be much longer, another few weeks is all.”

He opens his eyes then, takes a deep breath.  “Yeah.  I know.  I just thought, maybe. . .”  

Brian reaches out and takes my hand, pulls me toward him till our foreheads rest against each other.  We stay like that, silent, motionless, for several minutes, till Michael pulls aside the curtain and pokes his head inside.

“Hey, it’s my turn.”

“Michael,” Brian beckons him into the cubicle.  “Take Justin to school now,” and when I open my mouth to argue, he squeezes my hand hard, very hard, and growls, “Just go – I’ll be okay, I’ll let them put another fucking cast on, and then Michael will take me home.”

“Promise?”

He squeezes my hand harder, till it hurts.  “Yes, I promise, now fuck off.”

“Okay,” I agree reluctantly, pulling away and grabbing my backpack from the floor by the bed, “But don’t yell at anybody, and call me on my cell when you get home.”

“No more promises.”  I can see Brian relax back against the pillows, the Vicodin is starting to work.  I hope it lasts till he gets through the casting ordeal and makes it home okay.  I give him a wave as I go out through the curtains, Michael stays to say something to Brian but catches up with me in the hall.  Wordlessly we ride the elevator to the first floor and walk out to the parking lot.


Vic

Waving at Justin and listening to his footsteps fade away down the stairs, I turn to smile at Brian where he’s perched on the sofa, his casted leg stretched out on the coffee table.  “He’s become your little guardian angel, hasn’t he?”

“He’s an imp from hell,” Brian growls.  “On his good days.  Other times, he’s Satan himself.”

That makes me laugh.  “Be careful where he sticks his pitchfork.  Especially now, while you can’t defend yourself.”

Brian cuts his eyes toward me, he thinks he’s giving nothing away but I see the corners of his mouth turn up slightly.  I realize that I’m surprised, surprised to think of little Sunshine slipping it to Brian Kinney.  He’s asking now, “Did you get the results of your disability appeal yet?”

“Christ,” I shake my head, “They treat you like a fucking criminal, I had to see ANOTHER one of their doctors, and now they want to start me on this ‘work hardening’ program.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“I have to spend a few hours a day for two weeks at some work facility, where they’ll make me do some tasks while they watch and decide if I’m strong enough for a real job.”  I shrug.  “I guess.”  I make a disgusted face.  “I don’t really know much about it yet, I’ll find out more details later.”

“It sounds fucking stupid.  Don’t let them push you around, Vic.”

“No, you can bet on it.”  I drain my glass and stand up.  Pointing at Brian’s untouched apple juice, I say, “You’d better drink that, or the warden will be all over your ass when he gets back from the store.”

“’The warden.  Jesus.”  Brian’s face looks suddenly bleak.

“Sorry,” I say quickly, perching on the edge of the sofa near him, “It was just a joke - “

“No, it’s okay,” Brian rubs a hand over his face, turns sideways on the sofa to face me and adds, “It’s just that ‘the warden’ is what Pop always called my mom.”

I feel like a real jerk.  “Brian, if I knew that, I’d forgotten it.”  I pause, then ask, “Did I know that?”

“Nah,” he denies it, “I never told anybody before.  Maybe Michael, but nobody else.”  He leans forward and reaches for the juice glass, takes a sip.  “It just sounded – weird.  Hearing that again.”

Leaning back against the sofa, I ask, “How’s your mother getting along – she’s living alone now, isn’t she?”

“All right, I guess.”  Brian drains the glass and sets it back down.  “Haven’t seen her for awhile.”  When I say nothing, Brian goes on, brusquely defensive, “She doesn’t want to see me any more, it’s not like I’m ignoring her.”

“I didn’t mean – “

“The thing is,” Brian begins, then stops.  I wait quietly and after a moment he goes on.  “The thing is, Vic, she – found out about me.  She caught me with Justin in fact.  She said I was going to hell.  Which is probably true, but not because I’m gay.  And she told my sister she doesn’t want to see me again.  Ever.”  He glances over at  me and must read the sympathy in my face, because he hurries on, “Hey, it’s fine with me, don’t look so sad.  One less obligation to worry about.”

“My mother was the same way, Brian, once she found out.  She never forgave me.  Almost broke my heart.”

He shakes his head no.  “It’s not a big deal to me though.”

“Okay.”  I can tell he wants me to drop it.  “Want some more juice?”

“No thanks, what I want is to take a piss.  It’s such a major production, I put it off and put it off, till I’m practically pissing in my pants.”

“Can I help?” 

“Nope.”  He just waves me away, reaches down beside him for the crutches, and pulls himself   up from the sofa.  I try not to watch him hobble toward the bathroom, I know he must hate feeling like a cripple.  I see him taking the steps one at a time, very slowly, then he swings off quickly across the bedroom floor and makes it into the bathroom.  I exhale sharply, I didn’t realize I was holding my breath.

When Brian returns and gets settled once more, I tell him, “I ran into an old friend of ours yesterday, guess who’s visiting from San Francisco?”

“Who?”

"Charlie."

"Christ,” Brian exclaims, “I haven't thought about Charlie for years.  How's he doing?"

"He seems fine, almost as old as me of course, but he looks good.  Somehow he managed to avoid the plague.  But then he was never as wild as me when we were young.  He was kind of a serial monogamist - he never double-teamed whoever he was fucking at the time.  Or anyway, that’s what he always claimed."

Brian rubs his forehead, his eyes have a far-away look, no doubt he's remembering the thing he had with Charlie when he was - what?  "You were what, sixteen?"

"Fifteen."

"He broke your heart, I remember.  The bastard."  I chuckle ruefully, remembering Brian's frantic call to me in New York, when he found out Charlie was moving away.  

"Nah," he denies it, but I know better.

“You were going to run away, follow Charlie to California.”  Brian shakes his head, but it’s true enough.  “You said you could MAKE him fall in love you.”

“Christ, leave the past where it belongs – in the past.”   He looks annoyed.

“Brian, ‘the past’ catches up with everybody eventually.”  When he just snorts, I go on, “As a matter of fact, Charlie asked about you.  I told him about your accident, and he wants to come visit you while he’s here.”

Brian’s throws his head back and stares hard at me.  I can see his nostrils flare.  “No.  Absolutely not.”

The door is pushed open and Justin bursts in, his arms filled with grocery bags.  I jump up to give him a hand, take one of the bags to the kitchen while Justin slams the door shut.  When he begins to unload the groceries, I decide to take my leave.

“Well, boys, I’m going home now, it was great to see both of you.”

“Oh Vic,” Justin stops with a can of olives in one hand and a can of tuna in another.  “Stay for dinner!”

“Thanks, but I think Deb left me a plate in the fridge, she has a late shift at the diner tonight.”

“All the more reason to stay,” Justin pleads, then glances over at Brian.

“Yeah,” Brian takes the hint and agrees, “Stay, Vic.”  He gets  up awkwardly and uses the crutches to hobble over to the kitchen.

Justin says, “Brian – you should  lie down before dinner, you’ve been sitting up too long.”

“My fault,” I say, but they both deny it.

“You can keep me company while I fix dinner, while Brian lies down.”

Finally I let myself be convinced to stay; the house feels so empty when Deb’s not home, and there’s nothing on tv tonight.  I perch on a bar stool while Brian hobbles off to the bedroom, following orders from – and I hope I remember not to call him this again – the warden.



Brian

I can hear their murmured voices in the kitchen, and even though I’m not sleepy – God knows I probably sleep half a dozen hours a day from sheer boredom – I find myself almost dozing off.  I’m thinking about the old days, about Charlie.  Vic was right of course – Charlie did break my heart.  Back in the days when I had one.

Thinking of Charlie makes me feel all the more determined that Justin get back to his real life as soon as possible, as soon as I get this fucking new cast off my leg.  If I were not such a selfish bastard I’d make him go away now, I’d put myself in the hands of a hired nurse.  But I can’t.  If anybody but Justin were living here with me, I’m sure I’d hang myself in the closet.  Or throw myself out the window.  I need him.  Damn it all to hell.  It annoys the shit out of me to admit that.  But it’s only temporary.

Charlie. . .Charlie.  Charlie took advantage of me.  Fuck, I wanted to be taken advantage of!  The first man I was completely naked with.  The man who taught me how to fuck, how to rim, how to give great head; how to kiss, how to keep teetering on the brink of orgasm for hours just by kissing.  He taught me a lot of the things that I’ve taught Justin.  Somehow that makes me feel incredibly depressed, so I give up on nostalgia and let myself drift into sleep.

At dinner, which we eat in the living room on wooden tv trays donated by the ever-benevolent Jennifer Taylor, Vic brings up the subject of Charlie again, and I throw a squelching look at him but he refuses to acknowledge it.  “Can I bring Charlie over to see you tomorrow?” he asks, when he knows fucking well that I don’t want to see him.

“No, I have some reports to work on with my assistant tomorrow.”

“Cynthia’s coming over?” Justin demands eagerly, “Oh I’m glad, make her stay for dinner this time.”

Vic plunges right ahead, ignoring my dirty looks at him, “We could come by in the morning, or at lunch time, whenever it’s convenient.”

Christ, it’s not fucking convenient.

Justin swallows a huge mouthful of spaghetti and asks, predictably, “Who’s Charlie?”

“An old friend of mine, visiting from California.  Brian knew him too, long ago.”  Vic gives me an invisible wink and if my arm were six feet long, I’d reach over and smack him.

“Oh, Brian, that would be cool, you need some new visitors.”

“Why?” asks Vic, “Has he scared away all the old ones?”

“Pretty much,” Justin nods agreement. 

He’s right about that.



Justin

As soon as Vic leaves after dinner – he insisted on helping me clean up – I suggest to Brian that he lie down on the sofa to watch tv.  He finally agrees, but insists that I bring him his laptop so he can catch up with e-mail.  I wish he’d let me rent a hospital bed, I know he’s not really comfortable stretched out on the sofa, but it’s impossible to keep him in bed as much as he’s supposed to.  I work on my own computer for a couple hours, then when I stand up and stretch, I walk over to the sofa, thinking maybe Brian has fallen asleep.  He hasn’t though; he hears me approach and holds out a hand.

“Come sit by me,” he says, so I walk around the sofa and sit on the floor with my back to him.  We stare at the tv, the sound’s muted; Brian loves to watch tv with no sound.  It seemed weird at first but now he’s got me doing it all the time too.  It’s kind of relaxing.  Brian plays with my hair and rubs my neck gently, I shrug my shoulders, they’re stiff from sitting at the computer.  The table is really too high for my keyboard, but of course I won’t mention that to Brian, he’d either buy me a new table or make me move back to my mom’s.

After a few minutes of companionable silence, Brian murmurs, “Let’s go to bed.  I want to fuck you tonight.”

I catch my breath slightly; I can’t help it.  I want him inside me so bad.  But even though we’ve worked out a method, it’s hard to do, and I’m positive it hurts Brian – though naturally he denies  it.

“Sure?”  I tilt my head all the way back so I can look at him, he leans down and kisses my nose – he can’t reach my lips.  I know that’s his answer, so I stand up and take Brian’s laptop off the end of the sofa and move it to his desk.  He gets up on the crutches – unsteadily, after lying still for a few hours I know his legs are stiff, but I don’t dare try to help him – and makes his way slowly to the bedroom.  I drag off the duvet, then go to the closet and pull out the body pillow – it’s a regular pillow, but about four feet long.  Brian gets settled in bed, then rolls over onto his left side, and I slide the body pillow behind him, so he can relax against it.

Throwing off my sweats and sliding across the bed, I lie close to Brian, my arms go around his neck and we start kissing.  I love to feel his arms around me, his fingers are so strong and yet their caress is so gentle – most of the time.  He has this way of snaking out his tongue to lick my lips which makes my mouth open, and he quickly sucks my tongue into his mouth and almost down his throat, his mouth is so juicy and hot, in moments we're gasping for air, sometimes we forget to breathe when we're kissing.  We can kiss for hours and hours but not this time.  Brian’s cock is pressed against mine, we're both hard as a rock and I have to force myself not to push against him, he can't get proper leverage on the bed, one time I almost pushed him off the edge. 

I pull my mouth away and smack little kisses over his face, over his chin and down his neck.  He raises his head and I lick his adam's apple, moving my body back a few inches at a time so I can run my tongue down his chest and attack his tiny nipples, taking turns biting and sucking them till suddenly he groans, grabs my head and pulls me back upward and our mouths meet again.  Breathlessly Brian whispers into my mouth, “now.”  I reach under the pillow for a condom, peel off the wrapper and roll it on him, then grab the lube.

A moment later I turn over and lean back against his chest.  One arm goes around my shoulders, pulling me tight against him, the other arm circles my hips and briefly caresses my dick.  Then I feel his fingers opening me up and I force myself to lie still, to let Brian get things started, I’m so afraid of hurting him.

Once Brian is inside me, we both relax and exhale slowly.  Holding me close against him, Brian begins to fuck me, quickly we get into a rhythm - his arm around my hips pulling me backwards, then me pulling slightly away, then him pulling me back again.  He keeps his balance and keeps me close by wrapping his good leg around my legs, and the strength of his shoulders keeps us rocking in perfect rhythm.  Brian’s taught me to last a long time, sometimes we can prolong our orgasms for what seems like hours, but not tonight, not with the cast on Brian’s leg.  And besides, we’re both so turned on, less than ten minutes of urgent fucking brings us to the brink of climax.

I’ve been ignoring my dick, I don't want to go off too fast but I can feel Brian begin to falter so I grab hold and start to jerk myself off in rhythm with his thrusts.  In a couple minutes Brian gasps into my ear, “Ready?” and I nod, whisper breathlessly back to him, “Now, Brian, now!” and our bodies jerk in unison, once, twice, three times, before we collapse – carefully – against each other, against the bed and the pillows.  When we can breathe normally again, I pull away, slip off Brian’s condom and throw it away, then turn back to cuddle up against his chest so we can kiss for a while. 

I can tell he's exhausted, he'd never admit it.  “Mmm, getting sleepy," I whisper,  I know Brian is too, I hate to move but I’ve got to get him settled.  Regretfully I pull out of his arms, he lets me take away the big pillow and lies back flat on the bed.  I turn off most of the lights and then come back to pull the duvet over him. 

“Sleep with me,” Brian murmurs, his eyes are barely open.  “Just for tonight.”

I want to, even though I know it’s a bad idea – I can’t get used to sleeping in Brian’s bed again.  Leaving it this time when I have to move out will be almost as bad as the last time.  But I can’t resist when he asks me to join him, I just can’t.  So when he lifts up the duvet inviting me in, almost of its own volition my body slides in beside him.  He covers us both, then pulls me close against him.  My arm goes around his chest just like old times.  It chokes me up when we lie close together like this.  Luckily I’m so tired that I’m sure I’ll fall asleep before any tears have a chance to leak from my eyes.

“Justin,” he murmurs into my hair.

“Hmm?”

“Justin.” 

I feel his lips kissing my forehead, then his body lets go and he’s asleep.




9/24/02


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