Disclaimer: I don't own Queer as Folk or any of its characters; they belong to Showtime, Ron Cowen, Daniel Lipman, etc.
A/N: The prompt for this one was #4, Lost scene. It took me a while to decide on one, but I finally went with the scene that could have come after the one in which Michael invites Brian to Comic-con. At the beginning of the scene, Brian tells Michael that he has to get home soon because "Justin still gets a little freaky when he's on his own for too long." This chapter explores what happens after Brian gets back to the loft. Also, it takes place the day after the last chapter. Enjoy!
"Justin?" Brian calls out as he unlocks his front door and slides it over. It's not just that he always gets slightly worried that something will have happened to Justin while he's away, but also that he doesn't want to startle him by coming in without letting him know. It's hard for Brian to know for sure at this point what will awaken some subconscious memory of the bashing and what Justin will brush off as nothing.
"Hey," Justin replies without looking up. He is completely absorbed in his drawing, despite being frustrated that the sketch is taking him three times as long as it normally would due to the fact that he has to stop every ten minutes and let his hand rest. Plus, he has to erase a lot more often than normal since his hand tends to jerk across the page when he's least expecting it. Brian makes his way over to the stool that Justin has pulled up next to the window in the living room and puts his arms around him, kissing the spot right where his neck meets his shoulder blade. Justin sets his sketchbook down and twists his head around to give Brian a real kiss, one that deepens and lasts longer than Justin had expected.
"Wow, you must really have missed me at Woody's tonight," Justin comments when the kiss finally breaks.
"It's just not the same when I'm the only one doing all the mocking," Brian says sarcastically and sighs. Justin responds with something halfway between a laugh and a groan as he tries in vain to stop his hand from cramping up.
"Being at orientation really made me realize how much I need to draw again, but I don't know how I'm going to make it through all my work if it takes this long to do a simple sketch."
"It's pretty good for-" Brian begins.
"Someone who just got his head bashed in?" Justin finishes bitterly.
"I was going to say, for just a 'simple sketch,'" Brian replies, correcting his misinterpretation. He walks around to face Justin and pulls him off of the stool and on to the couch. "Stop being so hard on yourself. It's going to take time," he says as he sits down next to him and begins massaging Justin's aching right hand.
"I don't have time!" Justin responds angrily. He pauses, calms down from his outburst, then "Sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you. I know you're trying to help."
"Sorry's bullshit. You get to be angry about what happened, just don't let it ruin your work or your life. Prove to Chris Hobbes that he didn't win because you're still creating fucking amazing art."
At that, Justin finally smiles that textbook Sunshine smile. "You think I'm fucking amazing, huh?"
"I said your art was fucking amazing, not you." But Brian begins to smile as well, that goofy grin that only appears when Justin's around.
"Just admit it – you love me, you want to kiss me and hold me and tell me-" At that, Brian shuts Justin up the only way he knows how. He grabs the back of Justin's neck, threading his fingers through his hair, and kisses him hard as he leans him back until Brian is lying on top of him on the sofa. Justin's hands reach around him, pushing into his back and pulling his shirt over his head at the same time. Brian does the same with Justin's sweater, once again not caring that his clothes are quickly being scattered all over the not-entirely-clean floor. They each remove their own pants and briefs as rapidly as they are able, then resume making out, lips and tongues colliding frantically. The other night they made love, Brian admits, if only to himself, but tonight they're fucking, fast and furious. After what seems like forever but is probably less than a minute, Brian kisses his way down Justin's chest and takes his dick into his mouth. Justin immediately leans his head back and moans.
"Oh…ah, ah…Brian!" Justin screams when Brian takes all of him into his throat. Brian grins quickly as his tongue continues to roam around Justin's cock, pleased with his ability to still make Justin cry out just as he did the first time they fucked.
After he comes, Justin lies on the couch, breathless, while he waits for Brian to go get a condom and lube from the bedroom. When he hears his footsteps nearing him, he readies himself to roll over on Brian's command, but instead he feels Brian lift his legs up onto his shoulders before he puts the condom and lube on himself.
"Who says Brian Kinney can't do compromise?" he thinks to himself. This may be fucking, but it's going to be face to face. Even more surprising, as he feels the tip of Brian's cock edging inside him, Brian leans down to kiss him – not simply a quick, need-to-feel-something peck, but a full-fledged, I-want-and-need-you-only kiss that continues as Brian starts thrusting in and out, going faster and faster. Brian's hands run through Justin's hair and hold his face, while Justin's roam up and down Brian's back and grab his ass, pushing him farther and farther inside him. When Brian comes he collapses on top of Justin and they both lie there for a moment, waiting for their breathing to return to normal before either of them can speak.
"That was…" Justin trails off, unable to finish his thought.
"Fucking amazing?" Brian asks, grinning.
"Yeah," Justin laughs, reaching a hand up to his forehead to wipe away some of the sweat. Brian's face suddenly turned serious.
"So are you. Don't let your pain and anger make me regret convincing you to go to art school instead of Dartmouth."
"Can I quote you on that?" Justin asks cheekily.
"Absolutely not. I'll deny I ever said such a thing to anyone who asks," Brian replies, only half kidding. "C'mon, let's go to bed." As they pull themselves up off the couch and stagger into the bedroom, Brian subconsciously grabs Justin's right hand and starts massaging it again, wondering what else he can do to make things easier and when exactly it was that he started caring so much.
Comments? Questions? Suggestions? Let me know what you think!
