This takes place about 4 months after One Heartbeat Away.

There was a deep scratch in the polished surface of Brian's mahogany desk, a groove he did not remember making. He traced it over and over with his thumbnail, ignoring the report on his screen, a file he was supposed to review before Ted arrived at his office at noon. Even though it was Saturday, Ted had been willing to come in, always ready to do whatever Brian needed. What have I done to deserve such loyalty?

The question persisted, as did the blemish, neither willing to surrender or disappear. Brian liked perfection, both in his possessions and in himself. Once, he had been young enough and arrogant enough to believe he had achieved it. Self-doubt was an old, threadbare shirt that did not belong in his wardrobe. Then someone had shown him just how flawed he truly was, his success a thin veneer covering a hollow man. He often wondered how Justin had changed him so completely. More specifically, what about Justin had made him want to change?

It had been four months since Justin returned to Pittsburgh, moving into the loft and buying a separate place to use as a studio. It was not a seamless reunion; two stubborn men did not settle into a placid relationship. Arguments abounded, complete with leers and sarcasm, often ending in a tangle of limbs in the bedroom. Certainly, they were never bored.

Until this morning, Brian had been blissfully happy. Having Justin back was like stepping out of Dorothy's ruined house and into the land of the Munchkins. Everything was more vivid, full of color and life. Occasionally, doubt reared its ugly head and his need for independence shoved aside his better judgment, but those times were fading into the past.

Then, this morning, he heard a message on their answering machine that brought back the receding uncertainties.

The voice was unfamiliar, hesitant, and unsure. The man asked for Justin Taylor, said he knew Justin had moved back to Pittsburgh and wanted Justin to call him. He even left his number, which Brian looked up on the internet. The man's name was Adam Huff. Brian knew him better as the man who had once been Justin's partner.

From that point, Brian lost focus on everything else. He left the loft without waking Justin and without his customary mug of coffee. The report on his screen had been awaiting his perusal for three hours, but he found the scratch on his desk more fascinating. His cell phone lay nearby where he had reached for it a hundred times, only to drop it like a hot potato within seconds. An empty glass was shoved to the furthest corner of his desk, the odor of Jim Beam still hanging in the air.

He heard the front door of Kinnetik open on the other side of the glass block walls forming his office. Ted had finally arrived. Brian pulled himself straight in his chair, squinting at the monitor.

Time to snap out of it.

It was not Ted, however; it was Justin.

Fuck, he was beautiful. The cold air outside left its mark on his cheeks, a blush to accompany the dazzling smile. The blue scarf above the collar of his wool coat matched his eyes. He had his messenger bag slung over one shoulder, and tossed it carelessly on the leather sofa before striding directly around the desk to Brian, taking immediate possession of his mouth.

Pure whiteout. Brian could never think before responding when Justin was involved. He also never surrendered without a fight. Fisting Justin's hair, he yanked the other man's head back, while pulling him into his lap, pressing his tongue to the wildly pounding pulse beneath Justin's jaw. If he was a little rougher than normal, did it matter? Without Justin's tongue caressing his own, he could once again hear Adam's voice in his head, and he wanted nothing more than to obliterate it.

Hey, Justin. It's . . . uh . . . it's Adam. I know it's been awhile, but I ran into Sam. She told me you moved back to the Pitts. Don't worry, she wouldn't give me your number. I got it from your agent. Just wanted to touch base . . . see how you've been. I know we didn't part on the best of terms, and I'd like to rectify that. Call me, okay?

Click.

Suddenly, he could not kiss Justin anymore and pulled away, rubbing his chin and looking at the report still displayed on the computer. Justin did not appear to sense the change, for he leaned over and nipped at Brian's ear playfully.

"You didn't say good-bye this morning. In such a hurry to meet with Ted?"

"Yeah." He bit off the word, spitting it out with more force than intended. Justin froze, sitting back and frowning at Brian.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He pushed Justin off his lap gently. "Just need to get some work done."

Justin was not buying it, but he never bought any of Brian's bullshit. Sometimes, Brian sorely wished he were not so tenacious.

"Uh huh."

He moved around to the front of the desk and perched on the corner, watching. Two minutes passed while Brian scrutinized the report for the first time that morning.

"You heard the message from Adam." It was not a question.

Brian flicked his eyes up, meeting Justin's. "I did."

His partner's face smoothed, and he nodded once slowly. "So ask me about it, Brian."

"Do I need to?"

Justin rose and pulled a nearby chair close to the front of the desk, plopping into it without taking his eyes from Brian.

"On the last day I saw Adam, I woke up from a nightmare in the early hours of the morning. I didn't know where I was at first. You know how it is." Justin shifted, looking away. "Adam grabbed me by the arms and tried to embrace me. I had warned him before not to touch me until I'm ready, but he never listened. He always wanted to give me comfort by holding me, but it was the wrong thing to do. I screamed at him . . . shoved him off the bed. He rapped his head on the bedside table going down."

Justin dropped his head into his hands, rubbing them over his face with a sigh.

"He lost it. Started yelling at me about how he had had enough. He had found some sketches I drew over the years, pictures of you." Sketches of him? Brian had never heard of these before. "He thought I was still in love with you. He believed the nightmares were part of it. Nothing I said made any difference. He packed a bag and left while I was still sitting there in bed. A few days later, he came while I was out and got the rest of his stuff."

"And now he clearly wants to see you again." Brian waved his hand in dismissal. "I'm not your jailor, Justin. You owe me nothing. Do what you want."

"What?"

By the time Brian had blinked, Justin had rounded the desk and grabbed the front of his shirt, shoving him so hard the back of his chair slammed into the desk.

Brian wrapped his fingers in a vise around Justin's wrist, holding his fist against his chest. Eyes locked in a battle of wills. What Justin saw, Brian did not know, but he saw blood . . . blood soaking white sheets covered with roses.

"Stop, Brian."

Justin relaxed his hand, releasing Brian's shirt. "I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong." He did not pull away from Brian's grip, accepting the bruises that would blossom later.

"Do you?" It was little more than a hiss, a desperate gasp.

"The past eleven years . . . it didn't matter who I was with. It's always been you, even when you weren't around. And now? I'm right where I belong, Brian. Nothing that happens will change my mind. Not even you."

Shit. He should be past this by now, the darkness and the blame. Was he really going to let a stupid phone call threaten him? Brian leaned forward, pausing only inches away from Justin's face. He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and willing himself to breathe, taking in Justin's scent and erasing the blood from his mind.

He wished it were not so difficult to say those three important words so vital in most relationships, but some things you could not change overnight. Actions had always been easier for Brian than words; for him, physical touch was a necessity. Justin knew this, knew Brian, and Brian was not surprised when slightly chapped lips pressed against his, flooding him with a need bolstered by his inability to say the words.

So he let it go, standing up and drawing Justin close, devouring his mouth with a growl of desire. And Justin knew, as he always did, exactly what Brian needed.

"Here you go! Ham on rye with mustard, and turkey on whole wheat with lots of extra mayo."

Deb snapped her gum, handing Ted the paper bags with a wink. He glared back.

"Are you trying to get me fired, Deb?"

"Ah, calm down. I'm just messing with you. It's turkey on whole wheat with no mayo. You think I don't know what he orders all the time? I should add the mayo, though. He could stand to gain a little weight."

"Yeah, well, when he comes in, you can tell him that. If I'm the one picking up his food, there better be no mayo."

She merely smirked and with a wave of her hand, walked away to serve her other customers. Ted shook his head and left the diner.

It was a cold Saturday, but sunny, and Kinnetik was a short walk away, so Ted left his car near the diner and headed down Liberty Avenue toward the old bathhouse, now the top ad agency in Pittsburgh. It still tickled him, that he worked in the same place where he had fucked and been fucked more times than he could count. Not as much as his boss, however.

Over the years, he and Brian had developed a friendship that they never referred to as a friendship. They had learned to trust each other, and Ted never took it for granted. There were precious few who ever entered Brian Kinney's inner circle, even fewer after Justin left for New York eleven years ago. Brian had changed then and not for the better.

He had still frequented the bars and clubs on Liberty Avenue, and he still took home tricks, but as far as Ted knew, none ever spent the night. The word in the scene was Brian Kinney did not kiss either, so do not even try. At work, he was all business, refusing to discuss his private life. Never, ever, did he mention Justin's name.

It bothered Ted, as well as Brian's other friends. Emmett used to say that post-Justin Brian was merely a lifeless clone of the old Brian Kinney. Michael tried repeatedly to break through the mask of indifference but always failed. They all knew the real problem, but any mention of Justin, and Brian shut down completely.

Everything changed when Justin returned to Pittsburgh for an art show at PIFA. Ted had no idea what had happened between them, but suddenly, Justin was moving back to Brian's loft as if he never left. And Brian? He was alive again, in every sense of the word. Alive and happy.

Ted smiled to himself as he entered Kinnetik. A happy boss was a good boss, and things at Kinnetik had never been better. In fact, he was meeting today with Brian to go over their profits before tax time. He was certain Brian would be pleased with the numbers.

He removed his jacket, setting it on one of the intern's desks. First lunch, then work. Grabbing the paper bags, he headed to Brian's office, taking a shortcut through the boardroom. The door to Brian's inner sanctuary hung ajar, and he reached for the knob to open it completely when the view caused him to freeze.

On the far side of Brian's room, opposite the boardroom door, was a white, leather couch and coffee table. Brian liked to relax there when he became tired of staring at the computer.

Today, he was not alone and he was not relaxing.

Ted had heard tales told by others who had witnessed Brian and Justin fucking. In the old days, Michael used to walk in on them all the time when he visited Brian at the loft. Emmett had seen them quite often in the back room of Babylon. Even Deb liked to joke about the one time she walked into Michael's old bedroom when Justin lived there and found the two of them naked and not working on Justin's homework. Ted had to admit their stories were scorching, but he himself had never seen the two in action.

Until now.

Justin's clothes lay in disarray near Brian's desk. He was completely nude, one knee propped up on the sofa. Brian stood directly behind him, also naked except for his shirt, which was unbuttoned, framing a well-toned chest. They were facing away from Ted, but at an angle that still allowed him to see more than enough. Justin leaned back against Brian's chest, his head tilted back, eyes closed, lips wet and parted. Brian was caressing his torso slowly, watching as Justin's nipples hardened beneath his touch.

Okay, it was time to go. Nobody could blame him for accidentally walking in on two people having sex when the door was just hanging open, but he had seen and now was the point where he needed to turn around and leave. Except for the fact that his legs seemed rooted to the hardwood floor, his eyes fastened on a scene hotter than any porn flick he had seen in years.

Ted always thought of Brian as a goal-oriented individual, brusquely efficient and utterly straightforward about what he wanted. Imagining Brian in the throes of passion usually summoned images of bruising grips, sharp thrusts, and rough handling. Nothing prepared him for the actuality of a Brian in love, a Brian who preferred slow caresses and a teasing touch instead of a no-frills fuck.

This Brian took his time, following a gentle bite with a soothing lick and roaming his hands over every inch of Justin's skin until Justin groaned with impatience. He tried to turn around but Brian kept him firmly in place, one hand splayed across Justin's stomach while the other tilted Justin's chin back for a hungry kiss.

People talked about chemistry, that much-sought-after spark that separated the mundane from the fire of true passion. Ted thought he had it with Emmett. Michael seemed to have it with Ben. Brian and Justin? They had enough to ignite a meltdown.

Brian pushed Justin forward, bringing him to his knees on the sofa, arms resting on the back. He reached for something on the sofa, which turned out to be lube, and squirted some on his fingers. Leaning over Justin, Brian murmured inaudibly in his ear while simultaneously inserting just his index finger. Justin dropped his forehead to the back of the sofa, but otherwise held still, allowing Brian to stretch him as he wished. Apparently unhappy with Justin's silence, Brian twisted his fingers deliberately, smiling as Justin cried out and shuddered. Ted closed his eyes briefly, sighing at the memory of just how good it felt when that particular place was touched. He was sure he was just as hard as Justin.

This went on for longer than Ted would have believed possible without Justin coming all over the sofa, but Brian obviously knew Justin's limits. If Justin thrust back, Brian withdrew his fingers, waiting for Justin to calm before starting anew. Ted could just imagine the sweet agony of denial and sympathized with Justin's obvious frustration.

By the time Brian finally entered his lover, taking him in one deep thrust, Ted was unconsciously rubbing himself against the doorway. They fit together perfectly, Brian draping himself over Justin's back, supporting his weight with his hands placed next to Justin's. Brian was no longer gentle, his body all desperation and need, the back of his shirt damp with sweat. Each drive forward rocked the sofa, and still Justin pleaded for more, his words nearly lost in the sound of flesh bruising flesh.

Finally, Justin keened softly, and Brian slid an arm around his waist, never slowing his pace. Ted figured he must be jerking Justin off because Justin suddenly went still and twisted his head to the side, mouth open in a soundless scream. Brian fucked him through it, and then slowed to withdraw his hand, dripping with Justin's come. Still moving, he ran his wet fingers over Justin's lips, and his lover willingly sucked them in as if they were Brian's cock instead of his fingers. Ted bit back a groan, watching as Brian began to lose his rhythm, immersed in the pleasure of Justin's ass and mouth.

It was the shock of seeing Brian come that finally woke him up to where he was and what he was doing. Loud grunts echoed off the cement and glass walls, and Ted realized with sudden clarity that he was hard and standing open-mouthed in the doorway watching his boss fuck his lover.

Holy shit.

Very slowly, he edged back into the boardroom, tiptoeing until he was finally on the other side of the huge, oval table. The bags in his hand rustled a few times, and he cringed with every sound. When he reached the intern's desk, he lowered himself with a sigh and simply sat, imagining his mother in a nightgown until his unruly erection calmed down.

Justin lay on the sofa, his legs sprawled over the arm, trying to catch his breath. He would never fully understand why sex was always like this with Brian, incandescent and all encompassing. It was how he knew this was real in a way that left every other aspect of life looking faded and fragile. It was why his paintings had taken on so much color and boldness, because that was what being with Brian made him feel.

He looked up as his partner approached from the bathroom with a wet rag. Justin reached to take it, but Brian batted his hand away and proceeded to clean Justin himself, gentle in a way he had not been in those last moments. A simple act, it told Justin volumes—that they were okay now. Whatever demons Brian carried, they were at rest again.

Justin had known their reunification would not be easy. They were the same people they had always been, but life had changed them too. Each of them had his own issues to fight, but it was worth it. It was worth it for times like this when the sheer harmony outshone the darkness.

They dressed lazily, sitting side by side on the sofa. Justin noticed Brian could not seem to stop grinning.

"Exactly how long did you know Ted was watching?"

Brian snickered. "He let out this despairing sigh when I had my fingers in you. When did you notice?"

Justin glared at him. "Not until I came. When I turned my head to breathe better, I caught a glimpse of him in the boardroom." He stood and zipped up his jeans. "You weren't going to tell me?"

"Of course I was! Later. You're more relaxed when there's no audience."

"Uh huh." Justin rolled his eyes. "And you love it when there is an audience."

"I couldn't allow Theodore to ruin a perfect, spontaneous fuck. It's hard enough to get you to do it outside the loft or your studio anymore."

"What about Babylon? We do it there!"

"And that's about it. Whatever happened to suddenly making a run for the nearest restroom or sneaking down a dark alley?"

"Seriously? You'd prefer a brick wall to a soft bed with Calvin Klein sheets?"

"It's the principle of the thing, Sunshine."

Justin sighed and toed on his shoes. "Well, next time we're at the diner, how about I let you fuck me on the counter?"

A slow grin spread across Brian's face. "I am so going to remind you of that."

"Damn it, Brian . . . ."

Ted heard the front door open and close and released a sigh of relief. Justin must have left Brian's office through the other entrance. At least he did not have to face him. Unfortunately, he still had Brian to contend with . . . and here he came now.

"Why, hello there, Theodore." Brian dropped into a chair next to Ted. "Do I smell a turkey sandwich?"

Ted narrowed his eyes. His boss look far too pleased with himself. Shit, he didn't know I was watching, did he? He rubbed the back of his neck, but he could still feel the heat of a blush creeping up.

"Well, you asked for lunch, so here you go!" Ted forced a smile and handed Brian the sack with the turkey sandwich. "Got to rev up for those reports, don't we?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm very revved up."

Ted nodded, keeping his eyes on his sandwich.

"In fact, I would say you came at the opportune time!"

Ted cleared his throat. "Well, that's great Bri. I always try to be punctual."

Brian reached over and patted his knee. "And it's appreciated, Theodore. Truly."

Lunch, then work. Lunch, then work. And no thinking of Justin's ass.

Picking up his sandwich, Brian headed to the door of his office.

"I'll just go get those reports from my desk, okay?"

"Sure!"

Brian paused with a frown. "Now wait, what was I supposed to tell you?" He tapped his chin and then nodded twice. "That's right. Justin had a message for you."

"What?" Of all the times to squeak like a pubescent boy . . . .

"He said to tell you that next time, you should just jerk off while you watch. No need to suffer physical discomfort on his account."

Brian winked and disappeared into his office, leaving a red-faced Ted to bury his face in a ham sandwich on rye bread with mustard.