This story occurs about seven months after One Heartbeat Away.
The dream begins in Babylon, like so many of them do. It is his Babylon, the one he rebuilt after the bombing, the one he designed himself. As always, he stands on the podium, alone as he was the night he reopened Babylon, when he danced to the beat of gay men everywhere. Justin was gone, but he was still King, as long as he believed.
In this dream, he dances with eyes open wide and basks in the smiles of friends below: Michael and Ben, Ted and Emmett. Even Vic is there, hidden in shadows, only his eyes visible, sad and knowing. But Brian ignores him because he must go on or sink into oblivion.
The music changes, becomes chaotic, without beat. The podium is gone and so are his friends. Everywhere, faces swarm but he knows no one and they do not know him. He pushes them away, creates a path toward the nearest door and flings it open. He stumbles outside, and the door slams shut. The music stutters to a halt.
It is snowing, but he does not feel the cold. He glances back, but Babylon is dark, closed, and locked. He starts walking toward the loft, the snowflakes clinging to his lashes and melting into tears. By the time he reaches his building, he can barely see.
The elevator climbs up forever and infinity. Time passes but he has no idea if it has been hours or years. At each floor, he raises the bars only to find he is somewhere else. There is the diner, and Justin is pouring coffee for Emmett. He slams the door down and the elevator rises. Here is his old office at Vanguard, and Justin sprawls across his desk, wearing nothing but his smile. Further up and here is Mel and Lindsay's Pittsburgh home, Justin sitting on the sofa holding Gus. The elevator goes on, and Brian no longer looks.
Here is his loft, and he slides the steel door open. On every level, Justin appeared but not here. The loft is empty, floor piled with snow. The panels surrounding the bed are closed, and he can see someone sitting on the bed waiting. His steps quicken, but the snow is deeper than he thought, and his movements are sluggish.
He pushes forward, and the panels open all on their own. The bed is empty, no one there. Across the black sheets, lies a white scarf, still wet with blood. That is when he knows that Justin is not coming home, that the past lies with Brian but the future is in New York. It is suddenly so terribly cold, and he kneels on the ground, letting the ice surround and consume whatever humanity he has left.
He breathes in . . . breathes out.
The ice shatters and he disintegrates.
Even before Brian opened his eyes, he felt the wetness on his face. And the cold. His entire body was covered in goose bumps, even though he was buried under the thick duvet. He hated these dreams, especially now that there was no need for them. Justin was home. So why the constant reminders of his former life?
He glanced to the side, releasing a soft sigh of relief to see Justin still asleep, face submerged in his pillow. Rolling off the bed and to his feet, Brian opened his bedside table and withdrew a cigarette before heading to the bathroom. He ran his hands under the water, splashing it onto his face and erasing the lingering tears from the dream. Buffing his face dry, he grabbed the cigarette and padded across the floor to the glass that formed one wall of his loft.
Rain streaked the window, blurring the lights outside to a golden shimmer. Brian stood twirling the unlit cigarette between his fingers, itching for a lighter. He badly wanted a smoke, but pride was a harsh taskmaster. He had sworn off nicotine five years earlier and had stuck to it, barring an occasional cigarette to calm exceptionally frayed nerves.
He scrutinized the faint reflection of himself in the window, a ghost hovering among the raindrops. The lines around his mouth and eyes blurred smoothly, muting the sharpness of age and mirroring the Brian Kinney of decades past. He felt the years, however, in the tightness of muscle and the grind of bone. Time could not be stopped, a truth he still struggled with on a daily basis.
He felt the air stir against the bare skin of his back, saw the pale silhouette of the slighter figure behind him before fingertips brushed lightly on his hip. The tension in his spine relaxed minutely, his body reacting automatically to the presence of the other man. Here was an addiction he had never been able to conquer. Nor did he wish to.
"Did I wake you?" He smiled at their reflection in the window.
"Yeah. You're making so much noise over here fiddling with a cigarette." Justin reached out and took the offending object, tossing it over his shoulder. "It's cold in bed without you. Shit, it's cold over here too. What are you doing?"
Brian watched the shadows cast by the rain leave dark streaks over Justin's face. He slung an arm around Justin's waist and pulled him close. "Didn't I leave you warm enough earlier?"
"That was hours ago." Justin rested his chin on Brian's shoulder, the furrow between his eyebrows deepening as he scrutinized the pensive expression on his lover's face. "Something wrong?"
Brian did not answer, but his fingers restlessly trailed over the curve of Justin's hip, tracing the crease of his groin and teasing the light curls of hair at the bottom. Justin's lips curled slightly, but he did not move.
"No, you're not going to distract me from the question."
"I could if I truly wanted."
"Uh huh." Justin grabbed the probing fingers and kissed them before placing them back at his waist. "Talk."
Brian dropped his chin to Justin's hair and breathed deeply, letting the scent of Justin's shampoo flood his nostrils. Even though it had been seven months since Justin returned to Pittsburgh, Brian still found himself noticing every little detail, relishing every piece of evidence that Justin was back: the sound of his laugh, the silkiness of each strand of hair, the way his eyes darkened when he was aroused, the rough callouses on his fingers, the smell of his toothpaste. Whenever darkness threatened to overcome his mood, he simply found something of Justin's to remind him that he was here and his presence was real. Usually, it was enough to banish the dreams, and even now he felt the ghosts in his head recede.
"It's time to sell the loft."
He could feel those blue eyes piercing his skull.
"What?"
Maybe this decision was the fuel behind his dream. Another change, another step away from the darkness, he hoped. That darkness may very well have consumed him had Justin not returned to his life. His fingers trailed up the rigidity of Justin's back to settle at the soft hollow at the back of the neck. He rubbed it with his thumb as he finally turned to face his lover.
"Gus comes to visit every summer for a month, and it's nearly May. He used to crash on an air mattress I keep here, but he needs his own bedroom now. So do we."
"And what did you do with Gus when you brought company home?"
"I didn't bring anyone home. Not if he was here."
That got an eyebrow lift. "You actually went weeks without . . .?"
Brian rolled his eyes. "Of course not. I just didn't do it here."
"Ah." Justin rested his forehead on Brian's shoulder. "So we need to find a place with actual, defined bedrooms. As opposed to a fuck-pad?"
Brian grinned at the reminder of Jennifer Taylor's term for his loft. "Unless you plan on blowing me in front of my son."
"Fuck you."
"Not doing that in front of Gus either." Brian shivered as Justin drew a finger along his crack. "Nor are you getting into me now, so don't even think about it."
Justin huffed in reply but settled his hands back around Brian's waist. "So we're definitely doing this? Moving?"
"Unless you've decided you don't want to be a we anymore . . . ah!" He flinched as Justin bit down on a sensitive nipple. "Just kidding!"
"You're not going anywhere without me, Mr. Kinney." Justin soothed the bite with his tongue. "Understood?" And then, softer, because this was serious also. "Never again."
Instead of replying, Brian yanked Justin's head back for a kiss, letting his tongue answer in its own style. They shuffled over to the sofa, Brian pulling Justin onto his lap. Their cocks, semi-hard, brushed together, and they sighed as Justin pressed closer, straddling Brian's thighs.
"I'll miss this place," Justin murmured, teasing Brian's earlobe with his tongue.
"So many memories." Brian smirked, tilting his head to the side to give Justin better access. "How many times have we fucked here? A million?"
"At least. That doesn't even include your tricks . . . ."
"I'll be sure to give this address to the Guinness Book of World Records. It'll sell quickly."
"All you have to do is offer a patented Kinney fuck to the highest bidder."
"Since that's become such a rarity, it might bring them in droves."
The warmth teasing his nipple disappeared, and he opened his eyes in annoyance. Justin hovered inches from his face, frowning.
"What are you talking about? Since when are Brian Kinney fucks a rarity?"
"Since a certain, blond artist returned to my bed." Brian watched him in amusement, struggling to keep his face impassive.
Justin sat back, leaving Brian exposed to the cold. Brian tried to pull him back but he resisted.
"Brian, I thought you realized I don't expect you to behave any differently than before. Maybe we should have discussed it, but I never expected you to stop having casual sex. I'm not going to hold you back . . . ."
Brian pressed two fingers firmly to Justin's mouth, silencing the man.
"We didn't discuss it because it wasn't necessary. I'm not doing anything I don't want to do, Justin." Justin shook his head, but Brian did not let him speak. "You're not holding me back. Has it ever occurred to you that I'm no longer interested in fucking men whose names I don't know?"
"Quite frankly, no."
Brian bit back a grin. "I'm well aware my actions in the past aren't very convincing, but time has a way of making meaningless things so . . . boring." He reached out and took Justin's hand in his, lightly tracing the ring he had given Justin months ago. "There's nothing and no one out there as compelling as you, no one who can make me as hard as you can with a single look. I'm simply not interested."
Justin crossed his arms over his chest, frowning. Brian sighed and pulled him back, running his hands up Justin's thighs.
"You don't believe me?"
"It's just weird. For you."
"Even Brian Kinney gets bored. Especially when no one seems to know how to give a decent blowjob these days. Never had that problem with you." Brian traced his tongue over Justin's shoulder. "No one has a better ass, either."
Justin shifted restlessly, and Brian caught his wrists and drew his hands behind Brian's head.
"And where are we going?"
"Found us a nice home in Shadyside with room enough for you to use as a studio also. You can work from home now instead of commuting every day to that rundown apartment on Liberty Avenue."
When Justin opened his mouth to protest, Brian deliberately stroked one finger up the underside of Justin's hardening erection.
"Tomorrow, I'll take you there before going to work. I promise you're going to love it." Justin's breath hitched and he tried to scoot closer, but Brian held his hips firmly in place. "Hold still."
Justin gave in, forcing himself to relax. When Brian wanted control, it was usually easiest to let him have it.
"There's a corner room on the first floor with huge windows on two sides. It would be perfect for your studio." Brian continued to run one fingertip up and down Justin's cock, circling the head each time. Gus's bedroom is also on the ground floor, and we have a spacious room upstairs large enough for a bed and sofa."
"What do you need a sofa in the bedroom for?"
"We can't always do it on the bed. I like variety."
Justin squirmed but obediently kept his arms looped around Brian's neck. "Come on, you know you'll miss this place."
"I don't have feelings about material possessions."
"Says the man who wears Prada and Armani and absolutely insists on imported Italian furniture."
"I like well-made things, but that doesn't mean I'm in love with them."
"Well, I'll miss this loft. It's where we began."
"I don't intend for us to end because we're leaving."
"I know."
Brian was stroking Justin now, slow and not nearly hard enough. Justin lowered his head, biting Brian's shoulder.
"God, Brian . . . would you just . . . please?"
Chuckling, Brian gripped his hips and lifted him up. A grope at the end table next to the sofa produced a lubed condom, and he ripped off the wrapper with his teeth. Swiftly sheathing himself, he lowered Justin back down, letting him set the pace.
Fuck, yes.
His fingers clutched blindly at the cushions, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep from thrusting up and into the tight heat slowly devouring his cock. Justin took his time, no doubt wreaking revenge for the earlier torture. By the time he was fully seated once more in Brian's lap, Brian was panting. As an encore, Justin leaned forward, whispering against Brian's lips.
"You do understand what it means, don't you? That neither of us has slept with anyone but each other since I moved in?"
Brian's hips jerked, a groan escaping because yes, he had thought of it. More than once.
"You want that, don't you?" Justin ran his tongue across Brian's lips. "To come inside me? To claim what is entirely yours?" He nipped at Brian's upper lip. "You know how I've wanted it, since all those years ago. I've never wanted it from anyone else, Brian."
He had forgotten how devious Justin was. Brian could top him when it came to sex, but Justin knew how to strike with words. It was the honesty, Brian decided, the transparency of his feelings, on display for all to see, while Brian kept his firmly under wraps.
He captured Justin's mouth with his own, rolling his hips desperately, but Justin held perfectly still.
"Say it, Brian. Tell me what you want." He leaned his head back as Brian dropped his lips to Justin's throat, groaning.
"What do I want? I want to fuck you forever. No condom and nothing between us. Filling you with my cum until you can't even move without it dripping from you. And then I would fuck you again. Then again, until there's nothing left anywhere but us. The entire world obliterated except you and me."
Justin's breaths quickened and he began to move, impaling himself repeatedly on Brian's cock. "And then you'll let me do the same to you."
Brian chuckled but was cut off abruptly when Justin clenched his ass. "Whatever you want," he gasped.
There was so much more he wanted to say, but words were too difficult to form at that point. The end was approaching, fast and inevitable. He could do nothing but cling to Justin, to their newfound relationship, and let it carry them over the cliff.
The fall was well worth it.