Chapter 11 – Fate Steps In
When you paint, you don't have to think.
Justin Taylor stood in Brian's loft, on a huge expanse of tarp, stopping his painting for a moment to look at the partially completed piece. In the foreground, a man stood alone on a city roof-top, looking out over a bay, his hair moving in the gusting wind, his stance defiant in the face of the oncoming storm. The last light before the dark reflected off a tall building across the bay, an unreachable safe haven.
Justin had been painting since he got the call that morning. His left hand was working now, kneading the muscles in his right wrist where he still suffered from the aftereffects of the bashing on the night of his prom. Flexing his wrist to stretch the muscles, Justin reached for his brush, his face contorting slightly from the pain.
Brian entered the loft, the sound of the sliding door masked by the music screaming out of his stereo. Heavy rock - no words, just sound pulsing, filling the loft. He watched Justin, transfixed. The younger man's entire being was focused on the painting, the intensity of the experience drawn in every muscle of his body. His shoulders and back filled with the strain. Normally, when Justin painted, he looked relaxed, smiling as the images in his mind flowed onto the canvas. This was not relaxed. This looked like a compulsion was driving him to finish. It looked like it hurt.
Brian walked through the loft to the bedroom, changing out of his suit into a T-shirt and jeans. He walked back into the kitchen, opening the fridge for a bottle of water, and sat on the couch to watch Justin work. It was impossible not to.
Justin was putting the finishing touches on the painting when the brush fell to the floor as his hand suddenly spasmed. "Fuck!" he whispered. "Not now." Brian grimaced with sympathy as Justin hunched his body over his hand, flexing it.
Getting up from the couch, Brian gently took the hand in his own. He could feel the muscles pulsing uncontrollably under his touch. He started to massage the hand and wrist. Over the years, Brian had learned many techniques to ease Justin's pain. Brian could now feel which muscles needed to be manipulated, which ones left alone. As he worked, Brian used everything he knew and was rewarded when he could feel Justin slowly relaxing.
"I guess I'd better take a break," Justin admitted, licking his lips lightly, staring at Brian's mouth. "But, Brian, I don't want to think."
Brian lifted an eyebrow slightly, questioning. Justin's eyes were bleak. When Justin didn't speak, Brian gave him a half-smile. "I can help with that." He leaned in for a light kiss, caressing. He drew back, looking for a change. Not there yet. He tried again. Sensing the second that Justin's focus shifted from his own thoughts to Brian, Brian came back in hard, devouring Justin's mouth, possessing him.
Brian's hands went under Justin's shirt, stroking the muscles. As Justin reached to do the same, Brian drew back again, guiding the pair to their knees on the tarp. Slowly, Brian started removing Justin's shirt, stroking as he moved the shirt up. When Justin lifted his arms to help, Brian tore the shirt off the rest of the way, throwing it aside carelessly. A second later, Brian's t-shirt joined it.
The two men went down on the floor. When Justin reached for Brian's pants, Brian took Justin's hands and held them out from his body. "Just relax," was whispered against Justin's neck, followed by a quick nip on his ear. Justin lay back, hands grasping at air, body shifting restlessly, waiting for Brian. Brian went to work, removing Justin's clothes while playing with his body - stroking, kissing, touching everywhere. When he could feel the heat pouring off Justin, Brian stripped and they were naked, lying together.
Brian focused on Justin, watching every response, needing to take Justin away from his thoughts. Justin's eyes were closed, his breath heavy. Barely heard above the pounding music, the tarp made crackling noises as they moved. At each touch, Justin's muscles quivered, small sounds escaped his tensed lips. Soon, Brian thought. Justin's eyes suddenly opened, frantic. His arms came up to pull Brian in.
Brian started to move, letting the music drive the rhythm, wanting it to last. He was losing himself in Justin, in his scent, his touch.
The pleasure built, spiraling out of control. Brian felt Justin tense beneath him. It was time. Brian let himself go in the same instant as Justin.
After what felt like an eternity, Brian lay on the ground with Justin curled into his chest, wondering what had prompted Justin's emotional turmoil. For six years Brian had watched Justin grow, mature. He was no longer the seventeen-year-old kid who cried at rejection. Justin was now a man that could take a hell of lot of pain, but something had happened to shatter his control.
"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"
Brian could feel Justin's body move with the breath he took.
"They got the blood work back this morning." Justin's voice cracked with emotion.
Brian held his breath.
"I'm not a match."