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Justin's POV

God, if feels good to be going home. I know I've only been away for one week, but it seems like an eternity now. I was in New York for months alone, and I was buried in my art, sometimes literally. I know there were times I forgot to eat, if it wasn't for that alarm clock in my studio I probably would have. That damn clock. I love computer animation, but programming a clock? Forget it.

I'd been in New York for about three months in some dumpy little studio I shared with a couple of other artist and my apartment was just big enough for my bed, a table and a dresser (oh, and what they thought was a kitchen, but I think I've seen larger kitchens in hotels). Brian and I had been emailing each other regularly. Of course, I had to start that, I knew I would have to (never again… only time… what an idiot… I know he thought that, I hope that someday I'll be able to convince him to believe that he is worthy of my love. And you'd think he would know enough about me to know that I'll never give up.)

Anyway, I knew I'd have to start contact, but I wanted him to make the first move to chase me. I admit, I wasn't sure he would, but I had sent him my address and he already knew my cell and email. So when he showed up three months after I left the Pitts I was shocked (although only because of the timing). I had been emailing the whole Liberty family, especially Cynthia and Ted, so I knew it would be only a matter of time before they made him come. He was upset that I had lost some weight and I looked really tired. Although he only noticed the following morning after we had ripped each other's clothes off and fucked on every available surface, more than once on some surfaces, since there weren't that many to choose from.

So Brian went out the following morning (before I woke up), after a whole day of fucking, making love, and just being together (with plenty of deliveries for all the food he made me eat). He brought back an alarm clock, along with coffee and a variety of danishes and breads from a local bakery (I had mentioned it in a previous email how good their croissants were, I love when Brian does these little things that shows me he loves me). And he said he doesn't do romance. They may not be flowers, or chocolates, or stupid fucking picnics on the floor (what the fuck was I thinking then), but when you first and only true love brings you coffee, pastries and an alarm (programmed to go off in the afternoon and evening) that shows you he loves you more than any stereotypical hetero normal bullshit that the masses say are romantic.

Enough about the alarm clock. So after that weekend of fucking, tons of delivered food, more fucking, walks around town, and even more fucking, I think you get the idea. Brian started making it a point to come out at least once a month for a couple days.

Thanks to the art review and Lindsay I was able to get a couple of shows the first few months I was in New York, not at very big galleries (and they weren't solo shows), but it was a start. I was able to find an agent after the first few shows (course, the reviews in local art magazines helped a bit, I'm sure). I love Patrice, she's amazing. She's quirky, energetic, and totally into the art scene and has been a starving artist herself, so she knows what it's like. She doesn't have a large clientele, and she's in the Village on one floor of a small brown stone with a gallery on the main floor displaying works from all the artists she represents (including me, now). She reminds me of a cross between Daphne and Emmett. I was immediately attracted (no, not that way) when she introduced herself to me at one of my shows (featuring new artists with unusual techniques). I convinced Brian to meet her (of course he read over the contract with her, I trust Brian implicitly and I knew he would make sure I got everything I deserve).

She was impressed with both of us. Brian, obviously as a very successful business man; she had high praises for the work the Kinnetic had done. And of course me, as a budding new artiste who refuses to fit in a box and use every technique I can find and whatever technique and medium I'm inspired to use.

Within the last two years I've had almost a dozen shows, most are with other artists (painters, sculptors, photographers, sketchers, etc.), a 2 solo shows (within the last eight months). Each group show had a theme so all my pieces went along with whatever they were. My solo shows I could choose my own theme. Of course my inspiration so often comes from Brian, whether he is here or not. And from New York, this city is amazing, there's a bright, wonderful, free feeling to the city, but there's also a dark, morbid, seedy feeling to it as well. My art reflects the love and pride I feel about Brian, but it also can express the pain and sadness from being apart from him.

Brian has been to each and every show I've had, well except for my first show. I know it was small, but I was hoping he would come. It wasn't till I checked email the next morning that I found out that night Babylon reopened. I still feel bad about that whole thing. I would have loved to be there, and I was even invited, but I missed the email. I was busy with working for a local restaurant (as a waiter/bus boy/whatever needed to be done), and painting like crazy for my show. I barely had the energy to eat and shower before collapsing in bed at night.

When the show was over, I checked to see if Brian had mentioned anything in an email and that's when I read about Babylon. Before I did anything else, I immediately drew a picture of me and Brian and Babylon (I could just imagine what he would have looked like… good thing I'm going home). It still gets me every time I use the computer that Brian got me to help my drawing. I know it may be cliché, but I put "Wish I Was There" on top of the drawing, then added a little blip about my show and sent it off. Huh… it was shortly after that he showed up the first time, I never put those 2 together till now.

Anyway, the last two years have flown by, but there were times I thought I'd never make it. My last solo show was a little over a month ago and Brian stayed as long as he could. He had to go back to handle some problems at Kinnetic. SO I've been a week in New York without him. The show was ending and I had to stay and meet the buyers, and potential clients, and parade around for the art critics and general public. Patrice was there, of course, she's always there though. As in she lives in New York, that's right, I don't. I haven't since my first solo show ended about 7 months ago.

Brian stayed for that whole show, six weeks, I was beyond surprised when he told me. He didn't even mind staying in my apartment the whole time (course than probably has to do with the fact that by his third visit he had replaced my bed, bought a desk, a small sofa and coffee table – I tried to object, but honestly I was so glad that he still wanted to take care of me, even if it was under the guise of him being more comfortable in my crappy apartment). Little did I know at the time why he was staying the whole time. The little devil, he's good, God, I love him! At the end of those six weeks he asked me to come back with him, just for a few days. He wanted my ideas for remodeling the loft. Uh huh… there had to be something more. And he asked in that way he does where you know there's something he's not saying but you have no choice to go along and you'll find out everything when he's ready for you to know.

So we fly back to the Pitts, that was kind of weird (since I hadn't been back in over a year) and drive to the loft. We get to the loft and I get out, he immediately stops me, blindfolds me and then asks me to get back in the car. I smirk, knowing he can see me, and ask questioningly with my eyes, even though he can't see those. He chuckles in that devious, but hot way he has, and says one word: Please. Okay, something big is going on, I don't know what, but since when does Brian Kinney say please? I don't question and just get back in the car.

We get to wherever were going, and opens the (what sounds like) a front door and leads me down a long… hall? It smells… I don't know. I couldn't place it, but it's vaguely familiar, and fresh paint, and air freshener? He opens another door and while I'm still blindfolded I can tell there's sunlight everywhere, but I don't think were outside. Then he removes it.

Holy Shit! There's a wall of windows, and… I'm in a studio, not just any studio, but if I had a dream studio, this would be it! Where's Brian?

I turn around and he's just inside the door and I can see the hallway behind him.

Oh my fucking God!

This is the house, thee house, my house, he kept it? I don't even realize I'm crying till Brian wipes the tears away.

"You talked about wishing for a larger studio for your next show, but New York studios are a lot and you'd have to fix up whatever you found and could afford. You've often said you can paint anywhere as long as you were free to create. I didn't want your help in redecorating the loft, I want your help in decorating this house. I know you had to go to New York. I know I pushed and look what you've become. You are now, truly, the best homosexual you could possibly be, and on top of that, a big fat fucking success."

He pulls his lips in and smiles that adorable fucking smile that makes me melt.

"And this place even comes with a full kitchen, a master bedroom, pool, hot tub, a beautiful studio that's all yours, and a live in… lover."

Honestly at this point my vision is blurry and I'm barely listening, but I HEAR him!

"So I know you had to go to New York, but if you're interested in living here… with me… then I wouldn't particularly mind it if you did."

He's kneeling, I don't know if I can take much more of this wonderful man. Wait… he's kneeling, on one knee… Oh my god!

"We may not need rings or vows to prove that we love each other… but would you, Justin Taylor, become my partner, for life?"

"I…I…when…you…"

"Umm… I've already talked to Patrice."

I must look confused for a sec, or upset, cause he stands and looks bashful?

"She thinks that you've grown enough as an artist that she'll keep you in the New York art talk, according to your contract, and because we both know you're fucking talented, that you could paint anywhere and still make it. Oh, she's also working on getting you another solo show within the year."

I realize I should say something to his proposal, but the first thing that comes to mind, looking at him, thinking of my studio and I see some furniture in the hall beyond.

"I can't believe you kept this house… and when did you do all this? It's unbelievable."

"Well, it is for my prince. And I just couldn't sell your house… I've spent the last six weeks with you because of all the painters and contractors and movers getting the house ready. The longer I spent working and visiting you and fly up to see Gus every once in a while, I'd come home to the loft, but after each visit with you I'd get more and more aware of your absence. The loft no longer felt like home. I didn't want to live here without you, though, and I'm tired of the loft. I still want to keep it cause it's part of me, and we could use it if we were tired and in the city and didn't want to drive back home. I don't like being there, or here, without you. Oh… and… um…"

By now we're sitting in the living room, in a really comfy couch, I love the color schemes he picked. I'll have to tell him after this eye-opening, soul-revealing evening that Brian is in the midst of.

"I have changed. I do like to cuddle, I like to relax and talk, I like to just be with you, I don't like being alone, and I haven't tricked in, well, since right after that first time I visited you."

No way. No fucking way. I don't want him changing for me, but… after everything he's said, how many times have I jumped on what he's said and been wrong. How many times have I let him push me away. I have a life in New York and he… Do I have a life in New York? IT is so much better when he's there and god, I miss him so much it hurts when he leaves. I don't want to think about how much it'll hurt when I leave to go back this time!... If I go back.

He's looking at me like he knows what I'm thinking, and why I'm thinking, and processing everything. If I stay, there's a studio here, there's a home here, my agent will still be in New York… she's working a solo show… my family is here… Brian is here! I don't want to leave him again. I haven't tricked at all, I didn't have the time, nor did I want to. Brian and I saw each other just enough to make up for the time we weren't together. I've never really liked tricking, but I would have preferred to be a part of it with Brian than sitting at home waiting for him.

But with him, and he's not tricking, hasn't for… eight months? I look shocked.

"What?"

"Eight months, you haven't tricked for like eight months?" Oh my god, he's fucking adorable when he's shy.

"Why settle for a decent trick when I have the best?"

"You're just saying that to get me back."

"Well, of course."

We laugh, god it feels good to laugh with him. And I could laugh, here, with him, I feel home. I didn't realize that till now, I had forgotten were we where I'm so comfortable.

"It feels like home."

"Would you like a tour? Provided that at the end I get an answer?"

It's been seven months since then and I can still remember it like yesterday. He gave me a tour, it was everything I had ever dreamed of, and he did a wonderful job painting and decorating. Even a room for Gus, and one for JR, and one for Linds and Mel (although that's a guest room for anyone). Of course, I love my studio, it looks over our breath taking property, and Brian had it stocked with everything he thought I would need…. Obviously I said yes. I've been to New York and I made it by myself, and became a successful artist. Patrice is having to filter offers for specialized commissions and I live with Brian, my, for want of a better term, husband.

We didn't have a ceremony, but I think he may actually want one. We do wear our rings. He surprised me with that one, too. He even got them engraved. It was just our names, but it means so much more than that. Mine says Justin Taylor-Kinney, and his says Brian Kinney-Taylor. I don't know what I did to deserve such a man, but I'll take him. I have Brian Kinney. Brian Kinney is mine. Un-fucking-believable.

Speaking of my man (heehee). I call home (wow… that still feels so good).

"Taylor-Kinney residence."

Have I mentioned how much I love him? We have caller ID, so I know he knows who's calling, but it thrills me to hear that, cause he answers it like that even when I'm not calling, sometimes.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

"Sorry I didn't call from the airport, I was lost in my thoughts."

"My cock, right?"

I can hear him smirking.

"Well, now that you mention it, I have missed it… and you, of course."

"Now I know why you agreed to live with me, you just wanted a live in sex slave."

"You got me… I can already picture you in leather cuffs, waiting for me in bed, lubed and plugged…"

We both groan.

"Where are you calling from?" He asks a little breathlessly.

"I can see the driveway from here, but I'll get the driver to help me with my luggage so you can finish whatever you're doing. I want to change then maybe start painting a little before relaxing for the evening."

"Sounds good… Later."

"Later."

I love this house. One week is too long to be gone, but my next commission isn't due for another 9 months and my next show is a couple months after that. My commission is for several pieces for a new hotel opening in Soho. The building is old, but it's being turned into a trendy, up-scale, lower-priced, gay and lesbian friendly hotel for couples, business people, and families (with older kids). I already have some ideas for the paintings. All the conference rooms, lounges and hallways will each have their own theme, even if they are more abstract than traditional scenes. I'll be in charge of those.

Each room will have its own theme as well, but another artist who paints more nature scenes and portraits, Daniel, will be doing those. He's a very talented artist, and we have similar texture styles and color preferences. He's so hetero, it's not even funny, but he's completely open to all lifestyle choices, I mean he is working on an LGBT friendly project. Brian thinks there's something wrong with him since Daniel didn't check out Brian when they met. That should be a plus for me then, I don't care what Brian says about not doing jealousy, he does!

Anyway, finally home. I'm gonna change, find Brian and then we'll relax after he hopefully fucks my brains out, maybe I won't get any painting done, but I won't complain. I head to the bedroom first…

"Holy fucking shit!"

Brian's POV

I'm working from home today. I know it's Sunday, so I shouldn't be working at all, but I want to finish this proposal. Not to mention I know Justin is finally coming home today. One whole week without him. I know that doesn't compare to the year we were apart (except for once a month, well, after Babylon reopened, I know I can be an idiot, but I figured it out, with a few suggestions and hints from EVERYBODY).

I knew he'd get caught up in New York and eventually the emails would dwindle and the phone sex that had been coming (heehee) less and less up until then. Then he sent me that picture. I totally forgot he had an opening that night. That was the night I stopped tricking. Being back in Babylon, I tried to get into it, I danced with Mikey and by myself. I tried to lose myself in the music. I found a couple of guys to drag to the backroom, trying to relive the past I guess, carry on, what a joke. After a terrible blow job (I could have given myself a better hand-job), some E, and plenty of JB, I ended up pretty fucking drunk… who'd a thunk, right? Yeah, right… Anyway, the second trick du jour tried to take me home, I don't fucking think so. Mikey takes me home, just like the good ole days (Christ, did I just think that?). But this time I'm not satisfied and I can't ignore the last five years that come crashing down around me, sitting in the loft by myself, I can't pretend it's okay that Justin isn't here.

Then I get that picture, it's me and him dancing and Babylon, in the center, on the platform. I swear it's like he was watching, he even got my outfit right. Does he know me that well? Stupid question, he's the ONLY one that ever has.

I miss him more than I had the previous three months. It takes a couple weeks to figure it out. I went to Babylon a couple times, I mean I do own it. I would look around and then see a blond head and I'd imagine it was Justin and he was waiting for me. Tricking was no more fun, often it wasn't the sex, but the chase. I don't want to chase second, or third best (or worst, as the case has become). I should be chasing my blond, the one I did change for (cause I wanted to), the one I proposed to, the one I pushed to New York. Holy Shit! I think I just had a fucking epiphany. That night I bought a ticket to New York, and the rest, as they say, is history.

But we like history, especially when it includes a hot blond twink artist, and a fucking hot stud: me!

I made sure I was there at every opening and saw him at least once a month. I'm so fucking proud of him. He's always been brilliant. I finally know we're not done yet. I know I can't ask him to come home yet, but soon it will be time. Almost a year after his move, he has his first solo show. I have an idea. Maybe I should wait another year, but I don't want to. If I wait any longer he might not come back. So I make all the plans to fix up the house (which I'm sure he didn't know I kept, how could I sell his dream, our house, our, hopefully soon-to-be, home). I arrange my schedule with everyone that I'll be with Justin in New York for his entire show (with my laptop and cell phone, just in case), and the house had better be finished when we, yes WE, get back. Cause (please god, or whoever up there that can answer this prayer) Justin won't be going back to New York without me and will move to our home.

I know he's surprised that I ask him back to the Pitts. I know it killed him not to ask anything. I picked him up from him, his agent, and his friends in New York that he does miss the Pitts, he wished he had a huge studio, the freedom to paint without working it around a job, and he definitely is miserable for a couple days after every time I go back.

I always thought it was my dream to be in New York, to get out of the Pitts and make it on my own. Well I am a big fat fucking success, and I didn't have to conquer New York to do it. And the one thing that makes anyone truly successful is having someone to share it with: Justin! Maybe I will conquer New York sometime in the future, Justin's art will always be there, but right now, I have the ability to give him a private studio to use all day, every day, and that's exactly what I plan on doing! Not to mention that we both get the added benefit of being able to fuck anywhere, any day, and anytime!

I knew he would love the house the way I had planned it. I paid attention when he was planning our wedding, and I always paid attention to his likes and dislikes. And even though I probably revealed more about myself during my proposal than I had planned… it worked, and I love that we wear our rings. I know he said he didn't need rings or vows to prove our love, but I know that deep down he has some traditional hetero ideas about relationships and marriage. We aren't technically married (yet, but I plan on remedying that on our anniversary, after he finished his next show). I see the love and joy in his eyes every time he looks at his ring (when he thinks I'm not looking).

We are in a monogamous, committed, loving relationship. We're partners and lovers. And a few years ago I would gagged and beaten the shit out of anyone who had said that. But now, I have Justin and I've never been so fucking happy in all my life.

Justin is finishing his second solo show right now, and I know he'll be home today. I have missed him this week, but Kinnetic needed me and I wanted to be here, at our home, when he got in. Then I hear the phone ring. I'm in my office, right downstairs from our bedroom. It's not that late, but I wanted time to be up there and waiting for him. Our four poster bed hasn't been re-christened in a couple weeks.

"Taylor-Kinney residence."

I know it's him, but I like saying that. I give him a hard (heehee) time about thinking about my cock, cause I'm thinking about his… speaking of hard.

Then he has to sound all husky and sexy and mentions leather cuffs and butt-plugs . Now I don't let him top often, but when I do? Let's just say that I wouldn't be with someone that isn't as good as me in bed. Don't take that the wrong way, I love Justin, I am in love with Justin, and I can't imagine life without him, I love him so much it hurts (okay… that's enough lesbianic thoughts, damnit, I was hard).

Where was I? Oh yeah, letting Justin top… Oh, yeah!... I'm hard again. If someone were to ask me my best bottom, it would be, of course, Justin. My best top? You guessed it: Justin! That boy (fuck, I know he's a man) was fucking made for, well, fucking, in every position, with every known paraphernalia imaginable.

I ask where he is and he says he can see the driveway and mentions luggage or something. By now I'm not really paying attention cause I'm shutting down the computer so I can surprise the hell out of him.

"Sounds good… Later."

"Later."

I go to the bedroom, take off my clothes, and take out the butt-plug, lube, leather cuffs, and a dildo I know he loves using on me. Fuck, he better get here soon.

I get on the bed, lube up my hole… oh, fuck… slide in the plug… shit (Justin, you better fucking hurry)… then put the cuffs on one wrist, slide it through the headboard, then on the other wrist. The lighting is perfect and I know I look horny and fucking wanton with my cock at attention and the plug just visible. I'm cuffed to the headboard, my legs are bent and my feet planted in the mattress, with my hole completely visible to the door… which is opening…

"Holy fucking shit!"

Brian/Justin Alternating POV

Justin stands there and stares, just stares. He always knew that Brian was beautiful. He knew that topping Brian was un-fucking-believable, but he's always had to ask. ALWAYS! Justin mentioned cuffs and plugs and was predictably turned on, but forgot about them soon enough knowing it wasn't a possibility. He'd been gone a week, he knew Brian would want to fuck his brains out.

"Justin"

Did I just come? Just from hearing my name from the male perfection offering himself to me on our bed, and in the pure sex and lust voice he has.

"J u s t i n"

I think I'm walking forward. Fuck, he is sex, pure sex. I touch his foot, he groans. Oh my fucking god! I'm not gonna last long. Christ! I need to jerk off before I start. Hmmm… excellent idea.

I take my clothes off, slowly, leaving a pile of clothes on the floor. Brian's eyes get darker, his breathing deepens, his nostrils flare with our smell, and we haven't even come yet. I kneel on the bed between his legs.

"God, you are fucking beautiful."

Okay, it's official, I'm ridiculously turned on and I can still blush.

"Look at you!" I say huskily, almost whisper it across his body "Fuck, you are so fucking hot." I tap the butt plug.

"Uhhhh…"

"Sorry, but I can't wait."

He looks so wanton and confused, and I won't say this out loud but adorable.

I start stroking my cock, he groans and looks, I can't describe how he looks. Like he wants to rip the bed apart to touch my cock instead. And his groans, go straight to my dick. I stroke him at the same pace I stroke myself. We're both groaning and practically whimpering (well, me at least). I stroke faster, and harder.

"Justin…"

"God, Brian…"

We both come, hard and fast and I fall on top of him.

"Fuck"

"Yeah"

"You haven't used the dildo"

"I know"

We both smile. He looks at the cuffs and lifts up one eyebrow and gives me a typical Brian smirk. I shake my head no and then I start licking the come off his cock and stomach and around his hold. We're both starting to get hard again, and both moaning. I love his scent and taste, and when combined with my own scent. Fuck!

I slowly remove the butt-plug. He grunts and takes a deep breath, like he doesn't like the empty feeling. That's okay I'm gonna be filling him up soon.

I squirt some lube on the dildo and slowly rube it over his stomach. Brian moans again.

I run it over his cock, gently.

"Ohhh…"

I drag it down his balls and push his perineum.

"Ahhh… Fuck!"

I pull the dildo away from him, he looks disappointed. I lube my cock. I moan.

I lean back and slide the dildo in my hole, very slowly. "Oh god!"

"Justin"

I push it in farther and with my other hand I take one finger and shove it in Brian.

"Ahhh…"

I move the dildo in me at the same speed I move my finger in Brian. I add a second finger and scrap both our prostates a couple of times. We're both groaning and moaning. Fuck, this feels, so … fucking… good.

"Justin"

I take my fingers out, he groans in protest, then I ram my cock in him.

"FUCK!"

"BRIAN!"

He can't believe I'm fucking him with a dildo in my ass. Like I can?

That's not what I had in mind when I put the dildo on the bed, but fucking himself with it while finger fucking me? Fuck! He's so fucking hot!

Then he's slamming into me.

"Harder, faster."

"God, Brian… so …. Fucking…. Tight."

He fucks me harder and faster. He angles his legs further under me so he can lift my ass up and go deeper.

"FUCK!"

"UHHH!"

I still can't believe how this feels. We got tested right after we officially moved in. Three months later we fucked raw. So many feelings, sensations, it makes sex so fucking intense. You can feel everything, every push, every pull, every move, every pulse, every throb.

I grad Brian's cock and start stroking in time with my thrusts.

"Oh god, Brian…"

"Fuck, Justin… Uhhh…"

I lean down and kiss him. He attacks my lips as soon as I'm close enough and we come, hard together.

"Ahhh… Brian"

"Fuck… Justin"

The dildo comes out as I come. I groan into Brian's mouth. He lifts his head up further to suck on my tongue as we shoot. I can feel my come in his ass. So… fucking … good!

We collapse on the bed, my softening cock falls out, still wet. I barely manage to pull myself up and release Brian's wrists and make sure they're okay. I give each wrist a kiss and then look at his beautiful hazel/ green eyes.

"Hi"

"Hi"

"That was fucking hot. Thank you."

"Welcome. And welcome home."

We just look at each other for a while. Then the air changes and he kisses me, deeply, powerfully.

I flip him over and just look at him again.

"God I missed you."

"I know, I missed you, too."

I kiss him again, cause I can never get enough of his lips. His lips were made for kissing and his taste, Christ! I'll never get tired of it (and to think I've gone months without this, never again!), never get tired of him. Why the fuck did I take so long to allow myself to fell that? … Don't answer that.

God, I love him so much, and I can tell him now, and the world won't fall apart, and he loves me right back. I still don't say it often, but I need to say it more. So I regrettable, stop kissing him, well, his lips. I move to his ear and suck on his lobe. He moans. God, I love the sounds he makes, I swear I could come just from hearing him. I nibble his neck.

"Brian"

"Justin… I love you … so much."

He picks my head up with both hands and smiles, with tears in his eyes, that reflect all the love and trust and friendship he sees in me. "I love you, too Brian. God, I love you!"

He looks like he wants to say something, but is unsure. Although we're both so hard again from just kissing and after his fucking amazing time topping me, he could ask for anything and I'd say yes.

"Brian… make love to me."

I smirk, he laughs, then he's serious again, and nervous.

I lean next to his ear while grinding our cocks together.

"Uhhh…" he groans.

"I'd love to make love to you Mr. Taylor-Kinney."

I hold up my hand, with my ring on, fingers splayed. His eyes tear up a bit, and he holds his hand up, with his ring on, and grabs my hand in his. For a moment I'm stunned at the beauty of just our hands together.

I keep eye contact as I use my other hand to gide my cock in his still well lubed ass.

"Oh god, Brian…"

I move in and out, slowly, gliding over his prostate at each stroke.

"Brian… so … fucking… good…. Fuck."

"Justin… so …. Tight… Uhhh…."

Still moving slowly, I'm barely containing my moans and Justin is as wanton as ever, groaning and moaning and chanting my name.

I grab his cock.

"BRIAN!"

I start ramming him faster while stroking him faster.

I lean down and kiss him, more like attack him. I fucking love kissing him. Sometimes I like it more than fucking him. I know that sounds crazy, but his lips, fuck…

We're kissing and breathing hard and moaning and grunting. And it's so fucking good. I keep stroking and fucking, changing angles to go deeper and stab his prostate harder. I don't call it making love, but no matter how we start, we always finish hard and fast (well, except that one time, after, you know, neither of us try to remember that cause of all the shit that goes with the memory).

Then he's coming.

"Brrrriiiiiiaaaaaannnn…."

His ass grips my cock and pulls my orgasm out. "I love you!"

Then I collapse on top of him and nuzzle his neck. I feel my dick softening and I slide off him, but instead of leaving him, I lay on my side and pull him to me facing me and cover us up.

"I love you too" he says. Then he looks down, and shy? Then up at me again. "Did you know that first time you fucked me… you said you loved me, as you came?"

At first I want to deny it because I didn't do love, but I know I'm not that person anymore and I can be honest with myself and my feelings.

Then it's my turn to look shy. Justin yawns and relaxes, and probably things I'm not going answer.

"I know"

"You know?"

"I remember"

"I thought you were too stoned to remember anything."

"I remember your name too."

"I know"

"Really?"

"It took me a while, but after I got to know you I figured you had been giving me a hard time."

I smirk.

"Not that kind of hard… but that was fucking amazing, too." He whacks my shoulder.

"But I figured you didn't remember saying I love you cause, well, you were coming at the same time."

"I think I realized at the time I loved you, but I had no idea what it was then, what I was feeling and I was terrified of anyone getting close."

"But you let me name Gus, I figured that said how you felt, too."

"Yeah, it did, I knew you were different when I first saw you under that lamp. I felt different with you, around you, even in you. Yes, in you. I know I've said you're amazing in bed, well, even as inexperienced as you were, I had never had someone in my bed so sexy, and talented and you learned so fast everything that we did. You were so incredibly horny and able to match me. You were and always will be the best fuck I've ever had…. I always figured once you realized that you could do better you'd leave. If I didn't admit loving you then I wouldn't get hurt… Let me finish… I know we've talked about this before, kind of, and I'm tired after all that fucking."

He giggles. I love his laugh, and his smile.

"I just wanted to say that after everything we've been through, after being apart for so long and I finally know what it means to love someone and let them love you in return. I am so happy that we're here together in our house, our home. I loved Gus the moment I saw him, I didn't think I would, but I did. That unconditional love was unbelievable, but what I felt with you, it is the same, but so much more, and hey, it's only taken me what, 7 years? To figure that out."

I had to finish light hearted. I was getting too serious, and I know we're both tired, plus I gotta hold back a little more of how I felt at the beginning of all this. But one day, he'll know all my secrets. Because I can, and he'll still love me, and he won't run away or hurt me. God, what an amazing feeling.

"Brian… several responses come to mind, all sounding sentimental, romantic, serious and life-altering."

I would say something about 1500 on his SAT's, but I'll save that joke for another time.

"But I am definitely tired and… I love you with all my heart, mind, body and soul. I will always love you and I will always be here. I am never leaving again, unless you stay right beside me."

"How about behind you?"

"It's always about sex." He smirks, I know what I could say, but I hated that period of time, so…

"And I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Me neither Mr. Kinney-Taylor."

"I love you Justin."

"I love you, too, Brian."

We kiss again, until a yawn from each of us breaks us apart.

"I say we go to sleep and continue this (I grab his soft cock) discussion for the morning."

"I agree to continue in the morning, as long as this (he grabs my ass and slides his finger along my hole) discussion can be continued."

"We'll see, Sunshine, we'll see."

I fall asleep with a smile on my face, staring at Brian. I know when he says Sunshine, I always get my way.