CHAPTER ELEVEN

'Juss-tinn! Jusss-tinn!'

The call was a hiss of air forced from dead lungs. He knew better than to stop. The night was dark, and wet, and he was running down a stinking, refuse-strewn alley: it was coming after him; he could hear the slap-slap of its footsteps, gaining. Justin tried to run faster, but his feet were leaden; he felt like he was floundering through deep water. With every step he could feel it getting closer; he risked a panicked glance over his shoulder, and saw it racing after him – a formless black shadow that seemed to pour over the ground behind him with horrible speed. Justin screamed, and ran again, and fell head first over a pile of rotting rubbish. He felt the stinking slime on his face and his hands, but before he could stagger back to his feet he was grabbed. He struggled wildly, trying to punch the thing holding him, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't put any weight behind his blows, and it parried him easily, laughing as it did so.

And then he saw its face, and knew who it was. Its eyes bulged, reddened with burst blood vessels; its swollen tongue protruded through purple lips, squirming with maggots; livid bruises circled the rotting skin of its throat.

'I've come for you, Juss-tinn,' Jason whispered, and as the cold dead-fish hands wrapped themselves around Justin's own neck and the putrid stench of rotting meat surrounded him, Justin screamed and screamed and screamed ...

"Jay! For Christ's sake!"

Justin woke gasping, aware only that the nightmare was still going on, that he was pinned, that he couldn't get away ... he kicked out wildly.

"Stop it! Just ... stop!" It was Brian, Justin realised, Brian's voice, Brian's hands holding him; and the relief was so great that he burst into tears, disorientated and completely unmanned.

"Hey ... come on." Brian sounded nearly as rattled as he was. "It was just a nightmare, Sunshine ... you're okay."

Justin clung to him, his heart pounding, his body sweating. "I ... I'm sorry," he stammered. He could feel himself shaking.

Brian was smoothing the damp hair from Justin's forehead. "Is it the fever again?" His voice was worried.

Justin shook his head. "I don't think so." He released his death grip around Brian's neck, wiped his face and managed a weak smile. "Probably the jambalaya ... I haven't eaten like that for a while."

"Mm." Brian sounded unconvinced. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No ... I don't remember what it was about," Justin lied. His heart-beat was slowing, but he couldn't stop trembling. "It's okay. Go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you ... I'm sorry I was such a fucking little pussy ..."

"No problem, Sunshine." Brain's breath was warm against his hair. He showed no sign of wanting to return to the sofa; instead he moved closer, pulling the sheet over them both and wrapping Justin in his arms. He stroked Justin's back soothingly.

Justin wanted to tell him to stop. He didn't want to get close to Brian; he was too easy to talk to, too easy to open up to ... Justin had already told him more than he should, more than he'd told anyone ... but the fear of the nightmare was still too close. It had been the worst one yet; he could still hear that vengeful whisper, could still feel the clammy grip of Jason's dead hands around his throat ... he shuddered.

"You're okay," Brian murmured. Justin felt a light kiss on his forehead. "You're safe. Go to sleep, Sunshine. I've got you."

And Justin did.

Eventually.

Brian figured the kid was feeling better when he awoke to find a body pressed against him, a blond head on his left shoulder, an arm wrapped around his waist, a leg hooked over his thigh and what felt like an impressive woody digging into his hip.

His first reaction was to throw the kid off: his second was that actually, he didn't want to.

He'd been more than a little freaked by Jay's nightmare; he'd been jerked out of his own dream (in which a certain blond twink had been doing some jerking of his own) by the sound of the kid screaming; Brian had hurried to the bedroom, his heart racing, to find Jay thrashing around, seemingly trying to fight off whatever was tormenting him. Brian's initial attempts to wake him hadn't been too successful; the kid obviously had no idea where he was, and Brian had to dodge a flailing arm before he managed to pin Jay down and make him listen. And then the kid had burst into tears and hung round Brian's neck, and although he'd been a little startled, Brian had found himself quite happy to hold the trembling body against his own and give some awkward comfort.

Brian's first thought had been that the fever had returned, but he soon changed his mind. Jay was sweating, sure, but it didn't seem to be the result of illness; he wasn't burning up, and he didn't have the same sick, sour smell he'd had when his pneumonia was at its height. Brian figured it was only what it seemed, a nightmare ... although what it was that Jay had been dreaming about to cause such an extreme reaction, Brian thought he'd probably rather not know.

He hadn't intended to stay, but the kid was so distressed, and the bed was so comfortable after two nights on the sofa that Brian had fallen asleep before he'd known it; and now here he was, with an armful of warm blond snuggled against him. And it felt ... pretty fucking good, actually.

Brian inhaled the scent of his own shampoo from Jay's hair; it smelled clean, and sweet, and somehow different to how it smelled when Brian used it. The kid's breathing was still harsh, but his chest wasn't making that fucking horrible bubbly noise any more; and although he felt warm, he wasn't sweating. Brian's reached over to check; his right hand slid under Jay's t-shirt to touch the skin of his back; it was smooth and dry. Brian ran his fingers lightly down, over the still too prominent bumps of the kid's spine, until he reached the graceful curve just above Jay's pelvis. Jay shifted a little, and sighed; Brian froze, acutely aware of his hand's proximity to the kid's ass; when Jay settled again, his long lashes lying motionless against his cheek, Brian carefully moved his hand again, to the back of Jay's thigh this time, feeling the soft hairs tickling his palm. He honestly didn't mean anything; he was simply relishing the novel experience of waking up with a hot little body plastered to him; but his hand seemed to have ideas of its own. It began to move, inch by inch, upwards this time, slipping under the leg of Jay's boxers until his palm was filled with the smooth swell of the kid's left buttock. Brian's fingers tightened a little, testing the firmness of the muscle; his heart rate picked up and his cock quivered, registering its full approval. Unable to stop himself, his fingers delved a little deeper, watching Jay's face for any sign of awareness, until he gained his goal; the tip of his middle finger brushed the puckered skin and Brian drew a sharp breath and bit his lip. The desire to press inward, to breach that tiny ring of virgin muscle, was very nearly irresistible; only the knowledge that for all he knew the kid wasn't even of legal age stopped Brian from gong further. And even if Jay was sixteen, he still hadn't given his permission for such an intrusion, and it made Brian feel a little sick that he'd even contemplated it. What was he, some fucking paedophile groping a sleeping kid for kicks? He withdrew his hand abruptly and pushed Jay away from him.

"Huh?" Startled awake, Jay blinked up at him.

"Get the fuck off me, it's like sharing a bed with a damn limpet." Brian swung his legs out of bed and headed for the bathroom, keeping his back to the kid so Jay wouldn't see the huge hard-on Brian was sporting. He shed his sweats and stepped into the shower, turning the water on full and reaching for the soap. He couldn't forget the weight of Jay's ass as he'd cupped it, and his middle finger still seemed to throb with the touch of forbidden skin. Brian lathered his hand and then began to stroke his cock, closing his eyes and groaning as he imagined pink lips stretched around it and a blond head bobbing up and down. He couldn't understand why the fuck he was jerking off to the fantasy of some little twink, but he couldn't stop himself. He moaned as he imagined himself plunging into that sweet little ass, and clenched his teeth as he came, biting back the name that rose automatically to his lips and cursing himself as he did so.

Because this was bad. Very, very bad.

Brian turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and gave himself an extremely brisk rub down with a towel. He would stop this. He would not tease the kid anymore, he would not flirt with him. He would definitely not kiss him. And there was now way he was going anywhere near that bed again while Jay was in it, whatever fit the kid threw. And as soon as Harry gave the all-clear, Jay was going to Debbie.

He was Brian Fucking Kinney, and he didn't do chicken.

Not ever.

TBC