A/N: This might be an epic fail…I hope not…let me know.
The ride to Manhattan was quite long. Brian did NOT want to discuss work. Unfortunately, Justin kept staring at Brian with wide, almost scared eyes. The concern, the anxiety FOR BRIAN was coming off Justin in continuous waves like the dirt and dust perpetually surrounding Pig-Pen from the Peanuts comic strip. Brian needed to shift Justin's focus.
He wondered whether he should simply have done what he was tempted to do, what he almost did – tell Justin he had a headache and work to do and didn't have time for adolescent drama: "Don't you have school in the morning? Why don't you go back to your clutter, your cheap, girly booze, your PlayStation, and your Iron Man sheets?" Brian had nearly done it.
And the space he was desperate for didn't just come from the interrogation Justin was a hair's breadth from launching. Brian wasn't sure he liked Justin's knowing that Brian was his 'mystery man.' He wasn't sure he liked BEING Justin's mystery man.
So much about the situation made Brian uncomfortable. Brian actually felt guilty for not being around that next year after the alley. He KNEW that was beyond ridiculous. But there it was.
He wondered if he could have kept Justin safe, if only by teaching him how the world worked. He hated the idea of Justin's being mostly alone after the attack. BUT he was FUCKING impressed at how Justin had risen above. Still, if Brian had been around, he could have paid for Justin's tuition. Justin wouldn't have spent a year slinging hash, killing himself to obtain a scholarship, to force his hand to perform. Brian hated all these thoughts, but there it was.
Ever since Brian had realized who Justin was, had heard from Justin himself about the attack and the aftermath, had read about it in OUT…ever since then, these thoughts had plagued Brian, had haunted him.
Brian also kind of HATED how he'd been acting with Justin since encountering him again. Brian was devolving to teenage bullshit. Being naïve and weak and vulnerable … shit he'd left behind the second his gym teacher had pulled his dick out, slapped Brian on the ass, and dismissed him with a cavalier, "See you on Tuesday. Don't forget your sweats. We'll be going outside."
Brian had waited to fuck Justin. Had felt and then shown his jealousy. Had stopped tricking even before they were anything. Had agreed to be a 'boyfriend.' Had taken Justin on dates. Had drunk crappy liquor, done a Cosmos quiz, and nearly slept in a fucking twin … All these things he had done … with some part of him separate, watching in horror, telling the rest of him to cut the shit – but somehow never being heard. He disgusted himself. Laughed at himself. But he couldn't stop.
So what had prevented Brian from calling Justin a kid and shaking him off? What had prevented him from being a dick was what always prevented him from being a dick when it came to Justin. The scar on the back of Justin's head.
That … and his art. The painting of Brian at the art show. The sketch of Brian's eyes on a scrap of paper Justin had preserved in a plastic bin under his bed and maybe even jerked off, too, fantasized about.
Life was precious. Justin's life was precious. More so since it had almost been wiped out.
And the way Justin felt about Brian, the way he looked at him … NO ONE, not even Mikey or Lindsay, had EVER done that.
Justin was … just … different.
So Brian had said nothing and left the car door open, waiting for Justin to join him. Still Brian needed to shift Justin's focus.
Out of the blue, Brian asked, "Weirdest sex you've ever had?"
Justin was so surprised that he laughed. "What?"
"What was the weirdest sex you've ever had?"
Justin laughed again. "Why do you care?" He hoped that this was another jealousy thing, but he feared Brian was just trying to distract him. Brian did that a lot. In Pittsburgh, Brian had done a great many un-Brian-like things (feeding Justin his food, PDA, etc.). Justin wasn't stupid. He knew why. To keep Justin from talking about their relationship.
Brian shrugged. "I'm bored."
Justin narrowed his eyes. He thought that maybe he could make Brian's strategy backfire. Get it to work for him rather than for Brian. Like he had at the restaurant. "If I answer, you need to answer a question for me."
Brian tensed up. "What question?"
Justin shrugged and looked down, hoping to appear nonchalant. "What did you mean when you said you're no good to Gus unemployed?"
"Try again."
Justin shrugged and tried to look innocent. "What?"
"What's the second most burning question on your mind?"
Justin held Brian's eyes. "Why won't you answer my most burning question?"
Brian laughed. "Is … is that the question? Your second most…"
Justin eyes flashed. They dared Brian. "Yes."
"Ah. No. Try again."
Justin sighed. Brian was so stubborn. "Fine." He closed his eyes and pondered. Asking Brian about his weirdest sex might be interesting, but Brian probably had a lot to choose from…he could probably answer honestly ('weirdest') in 5 different ways. Justin would prefer to hear about something truly singular. Truly unique. He opened his eyes back up and grinned. His voice bubbled with warmth and excitement. "What sexual something have you NEVER done?"
"What?"
Justin was smiling. His eyes bright. "You heard me."
"What HAVEN'T I done?" Brian smirked.
Justin laughed. "You CAN'T have done EVERYTHING."
More smirking. "Can't I have?"
Justin's eyes flashed again, and he spoke firmly – the way he had spoken to Brian the couple times they had fought (about the cop and Seth). "Don't bullshit me."
Brian placed his hand on his chest, shook his head, and widened his eyes – doing his best to look innocent. "Me? WHY would I bullshit you?"
Justin laughed. "Uh … so you can brush me off. It's easy to CLAIM you've done EVERYTHING … How can I disprove that? Saves you from actually having to answer the question. EXCEPT logic tells me there must be something you haven't done. Also … when you answer, and you will, pick something you might actually WANT to do. I'm guessing you haven't gotten into 'poo play.' But I HOPE (really, really hope) you don't want to."
Brian scoffed. "Do you call your dick a wiener?"
Justin looked at Brian like he'd grown a second head. "What?"
"Or a wee wee? Or a dinky?"
Justin held up his hand. "Woh … you can just stop there. I'd never call MY dick a 'dinky.' Nothing dinky about this." Justin's eyes flashed. "Do you need a reminder?"
Brian flushed. And smiled his sexiest smile. His eyes danced. He cleared his throat. Then he said, in his most imperious, most condescending tone, "There is a TERM for what you refer to so childishly as 'poo play.' It's SCAT play, thank you very much."
Justin rolled his eyes. "Excuuuse me. You knew what I meant. Who cares if I use the 'correct' term?"
Brian cleared his throat. Then he said simply, "Iron Man."
Justin huffed a laugh, but he also turned bright red. "What?" His voice cracked slightly.
"You can't invite me to sleep on your twin bed, with Iron Man sheets, and then use words like 'poo.' Not if you still want me to fuck you."
Justin turned even redder. But he held his ground. He retorted (with what he 'thought' was true – hoped was true), "You never would have asked me to come home with you if that were true. You would have run as far and as fast from ME and my twin bed and my Iron Man sheets as possible. If I could scare you off like that, you'd already be gone."
Brian harrumphed. Of course, Justin was right. But he'd never admit that. Instead he asked his previous question again. "So weirdest sex you've ever had?"
Justin grinned. He answered slowly, playfully, "Well, gee, I don't know. I have sooo much to choose from."
Brian chuckled. Then he cleared his throat. "Do you now?"
Justin nodded solemnly. Truth was, he didn't have all that much to choose from. The BDSM guy had been kinky, but most of Justin's other sexual experiences had been pretty vanilla. Except… "Once I was with this guy from my old job. One of the cooks. He was tall with red hair and built pretty solid. I actually thought he was straight, but then one night, he followed me into the storage room and shut and locked the door. He pinned me against the wall and started kissing me. All intense and crazy. Desperate. Then he…." Justin shifted uncomfortably and glanced down at his feet.
Brian prompted, "He what?" He was interested. Shame was usually an indicator of something really kinky.
"He … wanted me to 'force' him to suck me off and then to 'rape' him." Justin used air quotes on 'force' and 'rape.'
Brian didn't seem (to Justin) shocked. He asked calmly, "Did you do it?"
Justin let his head fall. He nodded. He'd enjoyed the experience, and he knew it was actually consensual, but just pretending it wasn't had made him feel terrible and guilty.
Brian shrugged. "That's nothing. If that's the best you got then I have a helluva lot of horizon expanding to do."
Justin peeked at Brian. "So … your turn."
"Something I've never done but want to do …"
Justin nodded.
"Huhn. There's not much I haven't done." Brian looked out the window. They were near Wall Street. At this time of night, the area was dark and completely empty. Creepy, well, creepy for the city that never sleeps any way. Suddenly he turned back to look at Justin. He'd just thought of something, but he hesitated to say it.
Justin quirked an eyebrow and smiled. The look on Brian's face was both nervous and excited. This had to be good. "What is it?"
"I've never been tied up before yesterday."
Justin was astounded. "What? REALLY?"
"Really. So … something in the same vein …"
Justin's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Being the predator had been exciting (both times … last night and when Justin was trying to seduce Brian in his office). Justin's dick was suddenly so hard it hurt a little.
"Maybe a step farther…"
Justin started to tremble bodily then. He thought, "Holy crap! Does Brian want me to fuck him?" He was actually trying to figure out how to ask when the car stopped suddenly. They had arrived.
Justin climbed out and waited for Brian (he was paying). When Brian approached, Justin said very much out of the blue something he'd been thinking when they'd first gotten in the car. Brian's non-admission admission (that he was Justin's 'mystery man') … the teasing they'd been doing after that … and the idea that Brian wanted Justin to dominate him … all that plus being in front of Brian's building, where Justin a few days before had professed to being 'onto him' … propelled Justin forward. He said, confidently, "I know."
Brian was surprised. Certainty on Justin's part … his 'figuring shit out' no matter what it was always threw Brian. There was so much Brian didn't want him to know. "What?"
"I wanted confirmation, and for you to be the one to tell me. But I know."
Now Brian was annoyed. "What?"
"When you said you were competing with Jackson for a promotion. I think you were telling the truth. You just left out the part where if you didn't get the promotion, you could get fired."
Brian was still annoyed. But a little relieved. He didn't really want Justin to see him as weak or vulnerable … as less than an advertising dynamo … but there were worse revelations Justin could have. "Ah."
"So … am I right?"
Brian shrugged. "Yes." Then he walked into the building.
Justin had been sure, but hearing Brian confirm his guess … If they couldn't land the Flash guy, and fast, what would happen? Justin pondered that for exactly three seconds before he started to lose sensation in his hands and feet. Would Brian have to return to Pittsburgh? New York was FUCKING expensive. And the loft … Justin didn't even want to know what it was costing Brian. He lived close to millionaires. Justin couldn't breathe. He was actually gasping for air, unable to catch his breath. His chest HURT. He had only one thought. "God … Brian can't LEAVE."
