There's No Such Thing as Love
(or The Fuck of a Lifetime)

"Hey, Kinney!' A surprisingly pleasant voice, raised enough to be heard over the usual Babylon thumpa thumpa, called to him from behind his shoulder.

Brian picked up the snifter of Beam that appeared in front of him a moment before and leisurely turned around. He was astonished to see the blond twink he's been watching for the past three years standing in front of him, looking at him with a challenge in his brilliant blue eyes. Oh, and by "watching" he didn't mean actually actively watching, but more along the lines of occasionally catching a glimpse in the periphery of his vision. There isn't a fag in all of Pittsburgh who would be able to ignore that luscious ass, even if it was only seen for a second out of a corner of one's eye, Brian mentally reassured himself. Besides, it's not like he knew the kid – the amount of information he accumulated over the last three years would barely fill a thimble.

He knew that the kid was a resilient little fucker, because Deb kept bleating about her lost little lamb, thrown out on the streets by his parents for being gay on his 17th birthday. You had to admire someone who didn't succumb to a life as a street hustler, but fought tooth and nail to build a decent life on his own by accepting help wherever he could, like from the GLC Youth Shelter, without taking advantage of anyone, like the struggling Debbie herself.

Brian was pretty fucking certain that the kid was smart because he overheard Mel talking about doing his legal work pro bono helping the kid graduate high school early and officially declaring himself an independent, emancipated adult, so that he could qualify for student loans, grants and need-based scholarships without his parents' income counting against him. When he heard that, Brian wished he had thought of something that genius himself when he left home at 18 to go to college. Although Brian went to college on a soccer scholarship and didn't need extra financial aid, legally divorcing his parents still seemed like a brilliant idea.

He knew that the kid had about a hundred different jobs, because in addition to working part-time somewhere at school, he worked as a courier/bike messenger for the accounting firm from which Ted eventually got fired; he picked up shifts at Torso and waited at various catering events – jobs that Emmett apparently got him; he did the monthly inventory reconciliation at the Big Q one weekend a month, according to Mikey. Those were just the legitimate jobs. Besides those, he occasionally bused tables at the diner when Deb seriously needed help and Linds let it slip that he babysat for various lesbian mothers, and walked people's dogs through services offered by the GLC. At one time or another over the last three years Brian had spotted him behind the cash registers and/or sales counters of every establishment on Liberty avenue - from a coffee shop, bike shop, beauty salon and barber, gym, book store, garden center, arts and crafts place, ice cream parlor, to the local spa, just to name a few. Brian figured that the kid worked mostly for cash when the businesses were severely short on people, desperately needed the help and didn't mind paying under the table for a couple of hours of work.

Brian knew that the kid was hot as hell and completely off limits, because the stupid little twat actually believed in love (at least according to queen of romance himself, Emmett Honeycutt) and has been in a monogamous relationship with a violin-playing beggar/music student for the past two years. According to Emmy-Lou, the two love birds met at college their first semester, "fell in love" and have been living together in tragic poverty and bohemian bliss in a tiny hovel of an apartment on the edge of Liberty Avenue. Every time Honeycutt started waxing poetic about those two, Brian wanted to kill him…slowly.

He also knew that his name was Justin Taylor, though he studiously tried not to remember or use it even in his thoughts.

Comparatively speaking, the list of things that Brian didn't know about Just…the kid was a lot longer. For example, he still didn't know which school the kid went to (but since Ben never saw him on the Carnegie Mellon campus, it was logical to assume that he went to PIFA), or exactly which art related major he chose (although the portfolio he sometimes carted around and a few off-hand comments Lindsey made, hinted at drawing or painting).

He didn't know if the kid had any friends besides his boyfriend and weather he had time for any kind of fun at all. Fuck, he didn't even know if the kid had any time to eat, since in the last three years he has never seen the kid eat or drink anything, because the blond dynamo was usually moving at top speed doing some kind of work. Brian realized long ago that the reason he never saw the twink shaking his bubble butt at Babylon, drinking or playing pool at Woody's, was because he was constantly working when he wasn't at school, studying or "making sweet love" with his boyfriend. Brian had no idea when the blond slept, because to him it looked like the kid worked way too fucking much, especially while being a full-time college student.

Brian also had no idea exactly why he designated this kid as being off limits. As the anointed Stud of Liberty Avenue, Brian normally didn't consider anyone off limits at all, except for those precious few in his circle of friends. Normally, he took whomever, whenever and wherever he wanted and especially delighted in plowing the willing asses of the supposedly "monogamous" Stepfordfags. Usually, he enjoyed disabusing his fellow queers of any belief in the existence of romantic love, the likelihood of fidelity, or the possibility of lasting relationships.

In this case, however, Brian just couldn't bring himself to pursue the kid just to fuck him once, as per his policy. He couldn't bring himself to purposefully ruin the twink's relationship just to prove a point. Brian decided that the reason for his reluctance to educate the kid in the ways of the queer world was that he was still too young to know any better, but has already lived through enough shit that he didn't need someone like Brian piling on the hurt. He decided that life will bring this kid down to earth from a cloud of naïve romanticism soon enough and probably with a resounding thud, without Brian speeding things along.

Having not seen the kid around Liberty for a few weeks, Brian was starting to wonder if anything was wrong and has been trying to come up with a way to subtly probe someone in his chosen family, when the twink in question suddenly appeared in front of him at Babylon, looking less like a kid, but more like a man. A mouthwatering, instant erection producing, confidence exuding, black leather pants wearing, shirtless MAN.

To say that Brian was surprised, would be a grave, grave understatement. He hid his astonishment behind a practiced slug of Beam, and then said "The ubiquitous Justin Taylor! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You know who I am?" It was Justin's turn to be utterly surprised.

"You've worked for practically every denizen of Liberty Avenue. Everyone knows who you are. What can I do for you?"

"I hear you are the best fuck around. I'd like to test that theory."

Those words went straight to Brian's dick and his mouth started to water.

"Really? Don't you have a boyfriend – a monogamous one, from what I hear?" he asked, curious at this unexpected turn of events.

"Don't do boyfriends." Justin shrugged.

"Since when?"

"Since we broke up."

"Oh, and here I heard you two had a love that would last forever…" Brian said sarcastically.

"Forever ain't as long as it used to be. Listen, the bastard has been lying to me for months, cheating on me and using me. I could have dealt with the cheating – monogamy wasn't something that I insisted on, he did. If after a year together he suddenly decided he wanted to fuck other guys, we could have worked something out. The using…I can't blame him for that one alone, because I allowed it. I liked taking care of him, of us. I liked providing for us both, so that he could concentrate on his music. I convinced myself that he was closer to getting his big break with his violin, than I was with my art and that once he hit it big, he'd reciprocate and take care of me for a change. In the end it was my choice to work like a dog and pay for 90% of our expenses without voicing a single complaint. So, that's on me. It's the lying that I can't stand. Thank God I've always insisted on using condoms, because his lies could have put me at risk. What hurt me in the end was that he told me he loved me and made promises to me, while he broke every single one of them behind my back."

"This is truly a sad story, Justin – my widdle heart weeps for you – but why exactly are you telling me this shit?" Even as he was saying this, Brian wasn't entirely certain why he was being such an ass, but for some reason he just couldn't help it.

"God, you truly are an asshole, just as I heard!" Justin laughed good-naturedly, not at all offended. "You are right; I've worked for pretty much everyone on Liberty, so I've heard quite a bit about you. I've heard that you don't believe in love, only fucking; that you don't do boyfriends or relationships; that you don't make promises of any kind to anyone and that you don't romanticize sex. I've heard that you use your tricks to get off and then throw them to the curb, yet you make damn sure they had the fuck of their life first. You are exactly what I need…"

"I'm flattered, Sunshine, but you haven't answered my question yet… Besides, it's starting to sound like you want to use me as your rebound boy, perhaps to make your wayward lover jealous. Sorry, but I won't play second fiddle for anyone."

Brian couldn't believe this shit was coming out of his mouth. Usually, he couldn't care less how his dick was used, as long as it was being well serviced by one orifice or another. If his trick wanted to use their encounter to soothe a bruised ego or make someone jealous, Brian didn't give a fuck. He was of the opinion that they used each other and that the other man's ulterior motives were none of his business, unless they came back to bite him in the ass, of course. However, Brian couldn't understand why he cared so much in this particular case, with this particular man.

"Jealous?" Justin laughed again, "Trust me when I say that's the furthest thing from my mind. As for rebound boys – I could have had my pick in the last 30 minutes that I spent at Babylon. If I wanted just a random rebound boy, I could have gone straight to the backroom and gotten two of them in that amount of time. Besides, I've been living with a 'boy' for the past two years and let me tell you, I've had enough. You are no boy, Kinney. You are definitely a man and I'd like to find out if you really are a fuck of a lifetime. I'd like to see if you can erase the last two and a half years of what surely must have been mediocre sex, as well as my 'wayward lover' from my memory. Oh, and I don't want to use you. I want you to use ME. The only place my ex didn't use me was in bed and I'd like to find out what that's like for a fucking change. As I said, you are exactly what I need – someone who, by all accounts, will give me great sex without any expectations, promises, apologies or emotions. I'm just looking for a fast and furious ride, if you know what I mean, and I hear you are the best man for the job."

For some reason, Oscar Wilde's "I can resist anything, except temptation" flashed through Brian's mind at Justin's challenge. While Brian could resist most things when he wanted to, including temptation, if the circumstance warranted it, there was one thing, one quality that Brian could never ignore – confidence. Self -confidence could make a somewhat attractive man look a hundred times better and a lack of it could make a hot guy seem like a troll.

Well, Justin Taylor had confidence in spades.

Brian preferred to be the hunter, rather than the hunted, especially considering the fact that when he was actively pursued by various tricks, a lot of times they had a faint aura of desperation. That certainly wasn't the case with Taylor – Justin decided that he wanted him, Brian; went after him with confidence; explained what he wanted and why with cool humor; threw down a challenge with a certainty of his own success and now stood there calmly, with sparkling eyes and a smile on his face, waiting for Brian's answer.

Justin Taylor was the sexiest thing Brian has seen in years and was the kind of temptation he had no intention of resisting. Brian calmly set his empty glass down on the bar behind him without looking, walked up to Justin, bringing their bodies flush together and then said, "You want a wild, fast and furious ride, huh?"

"Yes."

"Be careful what you wish for, Justin Taylor. I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll feel me into next week…"

For a minute, he thought that Justin wasn't going to respond. But then, a quiet moan escaped Justin's lips sending shivers of excitement up his spine. Suddenly, Justin abruptly rose on his toes, hooked his harm around Brian's neck, forcing his head slightly down and crashed their mouths together. The next few seconds of an absolutely electrifying kiss robbed Brian of all cognition. When the kiss ended with an audible pop, Brian stood there slightly swaying, silent and stunned, for the first time in his life not sure at all what to say.

"That was some kiss, Kinney…" Justin said so softly, Brian barely heard him.

"I was going to say the same about you, Taylor." Brian replied after clearing his throat that was suddenly dry.

"Your place or mine?"

"If you want to be used the way your ex never used you before, then we'd better start in the backroom and then, only then go to mine." Brian answered.

"Then what the fuck are we waiting for?" Justin said with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Answering would be superfluous, Brian decided; so he grabbed the belt loop of Justin's tight leather pants and roughly pulled him towards the back room.

Brian awoke without an alarm as was usual on a Saturday morning. What was decidedly UN-usual, was that he was wrapped around another body – a very nice, warm, toned, naked body that smelled very faintly and pleasantly of sex. Brian opened his bleary eyes and looked at the mop of blond hair sharing his pillow and let his gaze travel down a pale lean form laying on its side, neatly tucked into his body.

Justin, he remembered.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he put his hand on Justin's shoulder fully intending to wake him up, but the contrast of his tanned hand against the pale shoulder reminded him of the previous night, when his hands traveled the terrain of Justin's luminous body, mapping every angle and plane, and exploring every peak and depth. He remembered sinking his fingers into the silk of Justin's hair, pulling somewhat roughly as he pounded into him from behind. He remembered holding on to his shoulders, arms, hands and legs at different points during the night.

It had been a wild night, full of surprises that started with one of the hottest backroom experiences Brian has ever had. Definitely in the top 10, he decided. Although Justin wanted to be taken, to be used, possessed, he clearly had no desire to be a passive partner – he gave as good as he got, matching Brian move for move, grunt for grunt and sigh for sigh, both in the backroom and when they got to the loft. They were instantly in sync, responding to each other in a way that was as natural as breathing, bringing each other to new heights of sensation and awareness. Simply put, it was fucking hot.

Suddenly, Justin moved and the sheet that was partially covering his slim hips slid down, revealing several bruises made by Brian's hands mid-fuck. He lightly traced the dark marks with the tip of his finger, then leaned down and kissed them before he realized what he was doing.

A few seconds later, Justin shifted even more as he began to wake up. He stretched languidly. A quiet yawn was followed by a soft sigh, while Brian after a moments' hesitation went back to kissing Justin's bruised hip, making a leisurely progress towards a rather impressive morning woody. Justin sleepily enjoyed the ministrations; his hand came to rest on Brian's head and began to play with auburn locks. Before Brian's lips could reach their goal, however, Justin shifted again and sleepily murmured "Morning…"

Brian's quiet "Morning, Jus…" was interrupted by a fully awake blond with a spectacular case of bed head, who suddenly sat up and blinked at his surroundings owlishly.

"Kinney!" he exclaimed, spying Brian in the vicinity of his erection, "Fuck, I stayed the night…" he said, a blush of embarrassment staining his cheeks. He scrambled out of bed somewhat awkwardly and started hastily looking for clothes.

"Sorry. I should have left last night. Why didn't you kick me out?" Justin asked curiously.

"Didn't want to." Brian replied simply and realized that it was true – he didn't want to kick Justin out of his bed, not last night and not this morning. "Listen, what's the rush? Do you have to be at one of your thousand jobs this morning?"

"Thousand jobs?" Justin laughed, "No. Part of my new boyfriend-free life is that I only need about a hundred jobs to keep my head above water and I can actually afford to have an honest to goodness day off! I've designated Saturday to be a day of rest – no school, no work, no homework and no responsibility; which is why I was able to go to Babylon last night. I haven't had a true day off since my 17th birthday."

"Fuck, that's harsh!"

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Well…since you have nowhere to be, why don't you drop the pants, get your ass back in bed and take care of my dick, while I take care of yours." Brian smirked.

"What, 69?" Justin smiled, dropped the pants and walked towards Brian's side of the bed.

"Has there ever been a better number?" Brian drawled, rubbing his palm on his crotch suggestively.

"Uhm, yeah…under 30." Justin tried not to laugh, but in the end didn't succeed and started to laugh uproariously at Brian's mutinous expression.

"You little shit!" A second later, Brian suddenly lunged, grabbed Justin by the wrist and tumbled a squealing, laughing blond on the bed. He subdued Justin's half-struggling body by lying on top of him and holding his hands above his head. "You are gonna pay for that one, Sunshine! Forget the 69, your ass is so mine!" He growled and then kissed him.

An hour later completely satisfied with their morning romp, they lay in bed still damp from a long and equally as satisfying shower, sharing Brian's last cigarette.

"You called me Sunshine…"

"Debbie," was Brian's one-word explanation.

"Ah…" Justin nodded in understanding, "Does she ever call anyone by their actual name? I've known her for three years and she used my given name exactly twice. You have a nickname?"

"Asshole." Brian answered; then started to laugh when he saw Justin's completely confused and slightly hurt expression. "Not you, you twat – me! She calls me an asshole! Thankfully, not all the time."

"Wow!" Justin snickered, "Talk about harsh."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Brian answered, though he was clearly not upset.

They finished the cigarette in companionable silence. Then Brian admired Justin's body as he stretched like a satisfied feline. He continued to ogle Justin as he sat up on the edge of the bed and stretched again. His appreciation for the elegant lines of Justin's back, strong thighs and beautiful ass didn't wane as he stood up and started walking around the room, collecting his clothes and leisurely putting them on. In fact, Brian realized to his own amazement that he was getting rather aroused by a guy putting his clothes ON; and they weren't designer duds either. Then Brian realized something else.

Fuck, one night is definitely not enough, he thought. A week… yeah, a week would probably do it, he decided, as Justin who was now completely dressed turned towards him at the foot of the bed.

"Listen, Kinney, thanks for last night. Granted, I've only been with one other guy before, but you truly are a fuck of a lifetime…my lifetime. And you aren't as much of an asshole as people say, though I am sure you can be when necessary. I had fun." He said with a warm smile; then turned to leave. He stopped at the top of the stairs that led to the living room and turned around, "Later."

Brian knew he had about 30 seconds, tops, before Justin would get to the loft door, slide it open and disappear, so he didn't hesitate. As soon as Justin's back was turned on the stairs, he grabbed his jeans and had them on in five seconds flat. He grabbed the first black shirt hanging in the closet and put it on on his way to the door, catching Justin just as he was sliding the heavy loft door open.

"Where do you want to go for breakfast? I recommend the Liberty Diner – shitty service, great busboys, even better egg-white omelet." Brian said nonchalantly, acting as if going to breakfast together was decided upon long ago and was the most natural thing in the world.

Justin froze in place for a few seconds, slowly turned around and then looked at Brian, disbelief clearly evident on his face. He cleared his throat and said, "How are their pancakes?"

"No idea, but my son Gus likes them. Lindsey Petersen and her husband, smelly Melly, are his mothers. I'm sure you've met them."

"Gus. Your son, Gus. Right." It was clear that while Justin knew both Gus and his mothers, he never realized that Brian was the proverbial "x" in that equation. "Well, I'm sold. Liberty Diner it is."

"Good. Let me put my shoes on."

In less than a minute he put on his shoes, grabbed his keys and walked towards the door. He was about to walk across the threshold, when Justin stopped him.

"Kinney, I…"

"I've had my tongue up your ass last night. Isn't it time you started using my name, Justin?" Brian asked pointedly.

"Sorry, Brian." Justin blushed, rather adorably, and then continued, "Brian, I am really, really not looking for a boyfriend…"

"Who said anything about a boyfriend? Having breakfast at the same time, in the same place doesn't make for a grand love affair."

"I never said anything about love, Brian."

"Neither did I. Besides, I'm pretty certain there's no such thing as love. A fuck of a lifetime, though, now that's something I can believe in and don't mind holding on to for a while… say for a week."

"I can do a week." Justin's smile suddenly lit up his face and Brian knew beyond a shadow of a doubt how he got his nickname. "So, what the fuck are we waiting for?"

This time Brian didn't think the answer was superfluous. He gently pushed Justin out into the hallway, shut the loft door with a clang and answered, "Fuck if I know."

The End

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All belongs to CowLip and Showtime. No infringement intended.

A/N: My gentle readers, thank you in advance for reading and reviewing. As much as I love and genuinely enjoy the Hustler!Justin, Homeless!Justin, somewhat Weak!Justin tropes, I just couldn't write something like that after seeing Randy being totally awesome on stage on Monday night and then meeting him afterwords. So...instead I got inspired to write an Overworked!Justin fic, which might be a first in the fandom. LOL! Kidding. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my little love letter to Strong!Justin fics and I can't wait to see what you'll think about it.

Cheers,