Chapter 10: Where did his innocence go?
Pittsburg, The Loft, Night 2
There is no aphrodisiac like innocence.
Jean Baudrillard
All things truly wicked start from innocence.
Ernest Hemingway
They packed and took a plane in the evening. They'd spend the night at the loft and the next morning Justin would join his mother and grandmother's to the funeral home. He didn't really understand why he had to go there. He certainly didn't want to choose a coffin. He didn't even think his opinion would matter. But his mother asked him if he could come and Justin wasn't about to let his mum alone with his bigot of a grandmother. He hadn't seen her in years. The last time was probably before his father threw him out of the house.
When he entered the loft for the first time in months, Justin hesitated. It was stupid really, because it was not the first time he'd been at the loft, still they were there now, Brian bringing the luggage to his room and him staying by the door. Brian was presently staring at him from the top of the stairs, and then he slowly walked down the few steps and gave Justin a small soft smile.
"Afraid to come in?"
"No… I guess, I kinda am. Stupid right?" sighed the artist.
Brian understood very well what Justin meant. He felt that way sometimes too. It was even more ridiculous for him, as it was his own loft. But at times he dreaded crossing the threshold. It was pathetic, he knew that, but he couldn't help thinking about the fact that once again he was coming back to an empty home. But fuck if he was going to tell Justin that. As always he opted for humor:
"Well, you're not seventeen and a virgin anymore, don't be afraid of the big bad wolf." he said with this big seductive smile of his.
Justin snorted. But it did the trick. He went to the kitchen and sat on a stool as Brian retrieved two beers from the fridge.
They sipped their drinks for a moment, and then Justin broke the silence:
"I always wanted to ask you…"
Brian raised his eyebrows, inviting him to continue.
"How come you fucked me, even though you knew I was seventeen and a virgin?"
Justin never quite understood why Brian, who was so experienced and older, and who could have anyone, accepted to fuck an inexperienced and terrified kid, taking the risk to be hugely disappointed and frustrated, instead of bringing home a sure, reliable good fuck.
Brian took a moment before answering. He wasn't sure how to explain it to Justin. Actually, he wasn't sure he entirely understood it himself. He could tell the blond that it was the excitement of fresh meat, the thrill of the unknown, the primitive desire he felt knowing he would be the first one to taste him, the attraction of his innocence, the need to kiss goodbye the boredom that was invading his sex life, or he could just tell him he was fucked up out of his mind and that a fuck is a fuck. Finally he settled for:
"Like you said that night, everyone has the right to get fucked. And who could have given you the best time of your life if not me?"
"So it was out of pure generosity?"
"Precisely." Brian affirmed with his best grin.
Justin stared at him for a few seconds. This man was full of shit. Always was, always will.
"You're full of shit!" laughed the young man.
Brian couldn't prevent the corners of his mouth from lifting up a bit. Time had passed. Quickly. Too quickly perhaps. Justin was certainly nothing like the kid he had taken home that fateful night anymore. When he had met Justin, the blond had been so young, innocent, willing, endearing. He squealed like a kid, blushed like a kid and was so disposed to please. He made Brian feel young.
Now, Justin was a man. However, sometimes he would get a glimpse of the innocent youthful optimistic twat lost somewhere in his partner; just from a word or an expression. But, what Brian saw very early on, and what had been proved time and time again, is that Justin was the strongest, most resilient person he had ever met, and every day Brian fell in love with him all over again.