Brian sighed. He needed to pull Justin back, back from the edge, back out of his head. Justin had barely been managing to fend off a full-on panic attack – and the worst Brian had ever seen. Well, extreme circumstances require extreme measures.

Brian walked over to Justin's laptop and typed "Youtube" into the search bar. Once there, he searched for Macklemore's "Can't Hold Us." How the fuck, might you ask, would Brian know this song (or really any song from the last decade – by name anyway)? Brian and rap, really? Good questions, all. Truth is, he wouldn't except that Justin liked rap (and industrial … and a smattering of other things). When Justin wrote, he often listened to music, and this was the only song Brian could remember Justin playing (Justin also listened and sang along to music when he was upset – a CBT – cognitive behavioral therapy — technique he used to pull him out of negativity spirals). Brian was lucky … he'd had to think hard to call to mind any song title. He found the karaoke version, plugged in the external speakers, and hit play.

During the intro, Brian stripped down to his boxer briefs and dug a hat out of the wardrobe – it was shoved at the bottom of one of the drawers. He made it back just in time to push the coffee table aside and start rapping.

Justin had retreated to the couch and was carding his fingers through his hair roughly, oblivious to everything. He didn't hear the intro … not the violins or the drums or the female voice crooning mournfully. BUT he DID hear Brian's voice … Brian's voice rapping.

"Return of the Mack, get up!

What it is, what it does, what it is, what it isn't.

Looking for a better way to get up out of bed

Instead of getting on the Internet and checking a new hit."

Justin's head shot up. Brian was in black boxer briefs and nothing else. Well not nothing. He had a baseball cap on. Backwards. Justin hid behind his hand, but then opened two fingers and peeked. Brian was gesturing like crazy with his arms, lifting them up above his head … opening them wide … and occasionally throwing one arm down (looked kind of like his hand was a plane crashing). Justin let his hands fall. His eyes were wide, and he was smiling.

"Get up! Fresh out, pimp strut walking, little bit of humble, little bit of cautious

Somewhere between like Rocky and Cosby. Sweater gang, nope, nope y'all can't copy

Yup. Bad, moon walking, this here is our party, my posse's been on Broadway,

And we did it our way."

Every time Brian rapped "get up," he gestured indicating that Justin should join him. And when he rapped "fresh out, pimp strut walking," he actually strutted (Brian-Fucking-Kinney style).

Suddenly Brian was leaning over, squatting low to the ground, and even bouncing all the while gesturing even more frantically.

"Grown music, I shed my skin and put my bones into everything I record to it

And yet I'm on.

Let that stage light go and shine on down,

Got that Bob Barker suit game and plinko in my style.

Money, stay on my craft and stick around for those pounds,

But I do that to pass the torch and put on for my town

Trust me. On my I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T shit hustler,

Chasing dreams since I was fourteen with the four track bussing

Halfway cross that city with the backpack, fat cat, crushing

Labels out here,

Now they can't tell me nothing

We give that to the people,

Spread it across the country

Labels out here,

Now they can't tell me nothing

We give it to the people,

Spread it across the country."

Brian skipped Ryan Lewis's chorus – he was hoping to get Justin to sing with him, so he took advantage of the less rapid, sultry beat to walk toward Justin. He was slowly popping his chest forward, super sexy like, and smiling at Justin. Then he backed up (swaying his hips slowly as he did so) and crooked a finger at Justin (Brian's eyes twinkled). Justin hesitated, but then he bounced off the couch and in front of the laptop. Just in time for Macklemore's second verse.

Now Justin was rapping with Brian.

"Now, can I kick it? Thank you. Yeah I'm so damn grateful.

I grew up, really wanted gold fronts

But that's what you get when Wu Tang raised you

Y'all can't stop me, go hard like I got an 808 in my heart beat

And I'm eating at the beat like you gave a little speed to a great white shark on shark week

Raw. Tell me go up. Gone!

Deuces goodbye. I got a world to see, and my girl she wanna see Rome,

Caesar make you a believer. Now I never ever did it for a throne.

That validation comes from giving it back to the people. Now sing this song and it goes like

Raise those hands, this is our party

We came here to live life like nobody was watching

I got my city right behind me

If I fall, they got me. Learn from that failure gain humility and then we keep marching ourselves."

Justin could hardly keep up even though he knew the words by heart, because he couldn't stop himself from giggling. The experience of rapping with Brian was TOO surreal. And FUCK. Brian looked hot. By the end of the second verse, Justin's dick was rock hard.

When Ryan Lewis started the second chorus, Justin slid his arms around Brian's waist and started swaying his hips side to side while also inching forward. Brian placed his hands around Justin's neck and swayed, too. By the end, they were alternately swaying and grinding, in harmony.

Can we go back, this is the moment

Tonight is the night, we'll fight 'til it's over

So we put our hands up like the ceiling can't hold us

Like the ceiling can't hold us

Can we go back, this is the moment

Tonight is the night, we'll fight 'til it's over

So we put our hands up like the ceiling can't hold us

Like the ceiling can't hold us

And so we put our hands up

And so we put our hands up

Then everything else fell away. The music. The words. Daphne's visit and subsequent threats. All Justin could see was the light sheen of sweat on Brian's chest, his dancing eyes, and his lips, curved into a soft smile. Soft yet firm, perfectly shaped lips. Justin grabbed Brian then, pulling him by the neck down, into a hot, wet crush of lips, tongues, and nibbling teeth. Justin moaned low in his throat, "Brian, I …"

That's all Brian needed to hear. He'd been actually terrified after he returned from taking Kayla for frozen yogurt – had just barely managed to catch Justin as he collapsed, had just barely managed to keep Justin at least partly present. His body swelled with relief, causing him to feel a bit dizzy himself. AND … Brian was desperate to fuck Justin. He'd been happy and thus horny when he arrived home, but more than that … he'd become accustomed to Justin's boundless desire for him. To lose that, to be eminently forgettable, irrelevant, even for an hour, even if it was because Justin was upset, caused Brian to hurt in a way he hadn't experienced in a LONG, LONG time. So those two words, moaned, set him on fire. He pulled his boxer briefs down and off and then stripped Justin so quickly his clothes went flying across the loft. Then he lifted Justin in his arms and backed up until he reached the couch, finally sitting on it. He actually nearly fell. Justin was so desperate to touch and taste Brian, to feel Brian inside him that he was kissing, biting, rubbing, and grinding the whole way. Then when Brian was seated, Justin got on his knees, straddling Brian, and started sliding Brian's dick inside him. Brian held Justin's hips to force him to go slowly. Brian kissed Justin's lips tenderly and nudged his nose, but didn't French kiss Justin. He wanted to look into Justin's eyes while they … fucked (Justin would have used a different term).

Only when Brian and Justin were cumming did Brian slide his tongue into Justin's mouth. And he kissed him slowly … slow and deep. He tried to put into that kiss all his fears, his desperate need for Justin to be here with him, and not just with him but WITH him. Justin seemed to understand. Tears sprung to his eyes, though he let none fall, and he smiled. Then he sighed, not a breath, but Brian's name.

Brian did not move an inch. He just sat there with Justin straddling him, his arms around Justin's waist, his forehead leaning against Justin's. Then he said, "Tell me."

Justin let out a shuddery sigh and said, "Daphne is threatening to ruin my life if I don't sign away my rights to Kayla."

Brian's eyes widened but then got dark, intense. He huffed a laugh. "No fucking way that's happening."

Justin sighed again, but the sigh turned into a sob. "Brian … look … I know you want to help, but there are still sextapes floating around"

Brian stiffened at that.

Justin shrugged. "Yeah, Daphne told me … the sextapes seemed impossible to deal with, and they are, but this – this is even worse. We can't win."

Brian rolled his lips into his mouth and narrowed his eyes. Then he slid his hands so that one was on either side of Justin's face. He breathed, "I haven't finished fixing the sextape situation, but I have my best man on it. I bought a bunch back, and Ted's already found some of the other buyers. The question is, do you trust me more than you fear her?"

Justin looked deep into Brian's eyes, searching, for what he didn't know … All he knew was that Brian was the only person who'd EVER even tried to help him. EVER loved him enough to want him to have everything he needed. They might lose, but he wanted to try. He wanted to choose love. To trust.

"Yes, I do."

Brian sent his lips crashing down onto Justin's.