There he was: Brian Kinney. He'd once been described as having the face of God, and once as a superhero. But who was to say he wasn't both? With an ass like that, and such a face, Justin knew Brian was truly a force to be reckoned with.
He heard the shower water hitting tile from the kitchen when he stepped through the sliding door. He followed the sound to the bedroom, separated from the lower level only by two stairs and quite a few panes of sliding glass, and dropped his bag beside the door.
Brian was unfazed by the sudden sound. Despite how often he tried to put on that he didn't care nor have desire to commit to Justin, the boy knew that Brian kept track of his schedule, and that, with all probability, he timed his showers for the precise moment that Justin would walk through the door.
Justin watched Brian soap himself, and continued watching as the older man's hands slid down his chest, and past his groin onto his fine legs.
His eyes widened.
Justin quickly rose from the bed, and dropped down the stairs, retreating into the kitchen and pressing his back against the cool metal of the refrigerator door. He withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and flicked out his lighter, slipping it between his lips and lighting it with a purse of his lips and a quick drag. He inhaled, deeply, and watched the smoke billow from his lips and cloud the bowl of fruit sitting upon the fridge above his head.
He couldn't help but ask himself what he was doing, why he was there. With Brian, everything was a question mark. They were stamped bold-faced straight upon Justin's heart and mind, and he could only dwell. He had this skill He could put up a front that he didn't care, a front of confidence-- that it didn't hurt when Brian snapped at him.
Ever since that first night; that first time he'd been with someone; with Brian; he'd wondered. Constantly. Wondering about what Brian did at night when he wasn't around, but, he knew. He simply didn't answer, because it would only bring about those damn pathetic dirges he indulged himself in. He must have looked like some stupid kid, persisting like that… Like he still was. Justin couldn't help it, he'd never felt like this before: wanting to touch someone, to kiss them, to…
"Justin."
He nearly dropped the cigarette from between his lips, but managed to take it, and follow the sound of that voice he could never mistake, soft, and low, like what he'd heard in the bedroom. His eyes lingered on Brian's naked body until they reached his face.
"What are you doing?" Brian asked, stern and unforgiving.
"I-I," Justin stuttered, "I was wondering if you wanted to go with me and the boys to Woody's, tonight." He waved the cigarette, and took a drag, trying not to look so damn desperate-- desperate like always.
"I'm busy," he replied, flatly, slipping a black button-up over his head and padding into his bedroom half-naked.
"You're always busy!" He shouted, suddenly frustrated, as if Brian had threatened with something. In a way, he was. He was threatening Justin's emotions.
Brian stopped, suddenly, and turned around, staring at Justin with that characteristic unforgiving gaze, his face expectant, waiting.
Justin's countenance crumbled, and he turned, rushing out of the apartment with a sudden loud slam of that sliding door that had seemingly just announced his entrance.
He heard the shower water hitting tile from the kitchen when he stepped through the sliding door. He followed the sound to the bedroom, separated from the lower level only by two stairs and quite a few panes of sliding glass, and dropped his bag beside the door.
Brian was unfazed by the sudden sound. Despite how often he tried to put on that he didn't care nor have desire to commit to Justin, the boy knew that Brian kept track of his schedule, and that, with all probability, he timed his showers for the precise moment that Justin would walk through the door.
Justin watched Brian soap himself, and continued watching as the older man's hands slid down his chest, and past his groin onto his fine legs.
His eyes widened.
Justin quickly rose from the bed, and dropped down the stairs, retreating into the kitchen and pressing his back against the cool metal of the refrigerator door. He withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and flicked out his lighter, slipping it between his lips and lighting it with a purse of his lips and a quick drag. He inhaled, deeply, and watched the smoke billow from his lips and cloud the bowl of fruit sitting upon the fridge above his head.
He couldn't help but ask himself what he was doing, why he was there. With Brian, everything was a question mark. They were stamped bold-faced straight upon Justin's heart and mind, and he could only dwell. He had this skill He could put up a front that he didn't care, a front of confidence-- that it didn't hurt when Brian snapped at him.
Ever since that first night; that first time he'd been with someone; with Brian; he'd wondered. Constantly. Wondering about what Brian did at night when he wasn't around, but, he knew. He simply didn't answer, because it would only bring about those damn pathetic dirges he indulged himself in. He must have looked like some stupid kid, persisting like that… Like he still was. Justin couldn't help it, he'd never felt like this before: wanting to touch someone, to kiss them, to…
"Justin."
He nearly dropped the cigarette from between his lips, but managed to take it, and follow the sound of that voice he could never mistake, soft, and low, like what he'd heard in the bedroom. His eyes lingered on Brian's naked body until they reached his face.
"What are you doing?" Brian asked, stern and unforgiving.
"I-I," Justin stuttered, "I was wondering if you wanted to go with me and the boys to Woody's, tonight." He waved the cigarette, and took a drag, trying not to look so damn desperate-- desperate like always.
"I'm busy," he replied, flatly, slipping a black button-up over his head and padding into his bedroom half-naked.
"You're always busy!" He shouted, suddenly frustrated, as if Brian had threatened with something. In a way, he was. He was threatening Justin's emotions.
Brian stopped, suddenly, and turned around, staring at Justin with that characteristic unforgiving gaze, his face expectant, waiting.
Justin's countenance crumbled, and he turned, rushing out of the apartment with a sudden loud slam of that sliding door that had seemingly just announced his entrance.