A/N: PLEASE READ: To those who have read this chapter earlier, I apologize but it wasn't the correct copy. This is the corrected version now. It's up to you if you want to read it again, but I do suggest it - this one is much better. Thanks so much for reading & your continued support. Please feed the plot bunny! =)

Chapter 6

Brian slowly slit his eyes open as the morning sun began to filter into the loft. He was still feeling a bit in a stupor from the events of the previous night.

When he had left the arena, he had needed a quick fix to the almost painful pressure in his groin. A pressure Brian instinctively realized would continue to amass until it was relieved. Following his antics last night at Babylon, Brian had no doubt it would continue to fester until the source of his pain personally relieved it. Then, of course, Brian expected it to be over... as it always was with any trick.

Justin Taylor was only a trick; he believed that. Thinking anything else went against his entire philosophy of how things were supposed to be. It didn't matter how Justin's smile invited him in... how he had the most perfect lips; ones that his cock told him had been fashioned exclusively for him. And... that ass, sweet heaven - an ass carved out of perfection. He wanted to lick it, suck on it, bite it, devour it with his lips and tongue... and then he wanted to fuck it. Hard, slow, or fast didn't matter.

All that mattered was that his cock was buried within it soon. And... it would be. No other scenario was remotely acceptable.

He had never been as horny as he had been last night. An itch that he had more than scratched with several meaningless participants. And yet, the ache remained. Brian knew the true source of his ache lay solely within the delicious packaging of Justin Taylor.

Brian stretched languidly, knowing he should get up, however still feeling bogged down by the alcohol and drugs he had consumed last night. Hearing the unexpected moan beside him, Brian turned on his side, his eyes narrowing on the man that lay beside him, eyeing him lustfully... and hopefully. When the man's hand began to trail down Brian's chest, obviously en route to his cock, Brian responded less than enthusiastic, "Who the hell are you?"

"Uh, I came home with you last night... I'm the guy you fucked... remember?" nameless fuck, needlessly replied.

"Oh yeah. Were you any good? Forget that... my question is; why are you still here?" Brian snapped in irritation.

The man frowned, as he looked at Brian. "You didn't say I couldn't stay the night... I just assumed... "

"Sorry, I don't do sleepovers. Now, get the hell out of my bed... and out of my loft," Brian answered, his eyes all but dismissing the trick, thinking he must have been truly 'under the influence' last night, deciding this trick wasn't nearly as hot as he had appeared when he had brought him home.

Rolling out of the bed, the man made one last attempt to lure Brian into an extended interlude, standing before him naked, proudly displaying his morning hardness, before he cockily whispered, "How about we take a shower together first? No reason why we can't begin the day as pleasurably as it ended."

"Let me be clear. This constitutes the morning after. I DON'T do repeats. I've had you. It's done... now get the fuck out of my loft," Brian yelled, standing up to slide into his jeans, leaving them unbuttoned, as he padded over to the door, harshly sliding it open.

The man hurriedly slipped into his clothes, glaring at Brian heatedly, before saying, "Why do the best fucks always turn out to be assholes... "

"Because they can be," Brian sneered, with an uncaring shrug of his shoulder, as he slammed the door closed, locking it, before proceeding to grab a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. Taking a long drink of water, he sat down on the sofa, his eyes drawn to the folder containing the photos and vital statistics of the National contenders. Discarding all but one, his gaze sharpened on the perfect vision of Justin Taylor. Brian smiled as he continued to look upon the beaming smile that seemingly transfixed him immobile. Murmuring aloud, "Damn, but he's so fucking beautiful." He figured once he had him this fixation would be at an end. It was how it had to be... how it always was. Justin Taylor would be no different.

His eyes once again scanning over the vital statistics, Brian had a sudden inspiration. He had promised not to chase him until he had made it through his final performance... but, he hadn't promised not to make any sort of contact. Picking up the phone, he called his friend, accountant, and general business manager - determined to achieve specific results. Brian smiled when the standard monotone greeting came across the line.

"Ted Schmidt," was the answer, amidst the sound of typing across what Brian knew to be Ted's computer at Babylon.

"Good morning, Theodore. How's the crunching going today?"

"Very well, Brian. You had an extremely lucrative evening... not that you would have noticed during your frenzied abandon last night... " Ted needlessly reminded.

Chuckling, Brian answered, "I notice everything, however yes, I did unwind a bit."

"A bit? Unwind? I think you made it your night's mission to assure that no hot gay piece of Pittsburgh ass was unknown by you."

"Hmmm, a tad of an exaggeration, don't you think?" Brian retorted, as he thought of a specific ass yet to be plundered by him... a lacking that would be rectified soon, if he had his way. When it came to a hot ass Brian Kinney wanted to explore - he always had his way.

"Not really... however, I doubt that's why you called. Something on your mind, boss?" Ted asked, always able to detect a note in Brian's tone when something was amiss; today being no different.

"Yes. I want you to discard your crunching for the time being... and focus on another more pressing matter," Brian told him.

Ted audibly groaned, knowing from experience Brian's 'pressing matters' were never simply handled. With regret he asked, "Which is?"

"I need you to obtain a cell phone number for me. With your search engines it shouldn't be too difficult to obtain."

"No, shouldn't be a problem. I just need the name and address if you have it," Ted prompted, shaking his head, wondering what Brian was up to now... or more specifically - who.

"I don't have the address, except that he lives in Pittsburgh. Name is Justin Taylor. I believe he has a roommate, so we are just looking for his cellular device and not a landline number," Brian answered, matter-of-factly.

"Okay, Brian. I will be in touch as soon as I have the number," Ted said, chuckling to himself with the thought that working for Brian Kinney could never be construed as tedious.

Hanging up, Brian prepared to go to the gym. Although, his thoughts centered around giving his skater boy a phone call... one Justin wouldn't soon forget the night before his final performance.

His final practice.

Tomorrow, he would be living part of his dream. Skating for the gold in the U.S. Figure Skating Championship. Securing first place would assure him of being elected to the Olympic team. If he didn't perform to perfection, that dream would NEVER come true. He needed a program so that the odds would be heavily in his favor.

Justin moved upon the ice, lost to everything but his music and the technical details of his program. The long program was much more intricate than his short program. Leaps, spins, spirals flowing in consecutive progression throughout. He just wanted it to be perfect. Justin couldn't think past this event and how he could possibly compete as an Olympic gold hopeful without the guidance of a coach, although he knew he needed to think about it... and soon.

Knowing it wasn't part of his program, but tempted to practice it nonetheless, Justin built up his speed to launch into a series of quad jumps... knowing the risks involved in even attempting it. Falling badly could cause serious injury... jeopardizing everything that he had dreamt of for years. He wouldn't allow that to happen. He knew he could perform this. He had visualized it for so long. To achieve this as Brian Kinney was acting as judge would be the highlight of his career. Justin thought not even winning the gold would be as invigorating as landing a quad jump before Brian's watchful eyes.

The first attempt, Justin stumbled a bit, however didn't lose his footing. The second one... finished as stiff, losing the grace that normally flowed in his performance. Ironically, the third time was the charm. Justin closed his mind off even further, focusing on the goal at hand - the specifics of the jump - failure not a viable ending in his mind. He landed the quadruple lutz flawlessly, as if he had been performing such a motion his entire life. Justin skated towards his coach, letting it stay in the back of his mind, the last practice they would share, giggling in excitement at what he had just accomplished.

His coach looked at him reprovingly... yet proudly as he said, "Justin, we have discussed this. The quad is far too risky. You don't need grand theatrics. Your program is difficult enough... and stands on it's own. Inserting that jump at this late stage is foolhardy."

"I know, Coach. I just wanted to try it again... once I was in full rhythm. I know I can do it... but I accept that tomorrow isn't the best of times, with such little practice mastering it."

"I have confidence in your abilities, Justin. You are going to succeed admirably... just stick to what we've so painstakingly worked on," he advised him firmly. "Now, I have some news, Justin."

"News?" he asked, as he removed the towel from his bag, beginning to dry himself off after what had been a grueling workout.

Smiling, his coach answered, "The Nationals have been generating a massive amount of attention. Your first performance was scouted, along with the other Olympic hopefuls. I have it on good authority you are going to be offered a spot on the 2012 Olympic team, no matter what medal you receive tomorrow. However, gold would be the most ideal... but, you will be on the team regardless."

"Oh my God! This is incredible, Coach. I never imagined it to be possible. I owe it to you, Sir. I could have never achieved this level without your amazing tutelage," Justin responded, feeling his heart close to bursting in excitement.

"Nonsense, Justin. You have an incredible talent. Rivaled by none. You could have reached this level without me. I'm just glad to have been a part of it. That being said... I want you to just focus on the now and not so much on the future. You are going to be just fine," he told him, saddened he wouldn't be by his side for his Olympic dream... but knowing if anyone could succeed it was Justin.

"Thank you, Coach. Your confidence in me has always been motivational. Now... uhmmm, since you say I already have my ticket to the Olympic team... what would be the harm in perfecting my quad?"

Scowling at his student, with an admonishing shake of his head, "You never give up, do you boy? Now, you have time for a few more run-throughs before your time is up... how about you show me the true marks of a champion."

Smiling brightly, from ear to ear, Justin answered, "I will do exactly that... "

Brian had just returned from Woody's, after a long day of the gym... the baths, dinner with the guys... the baths again, to come home grimacing that he needed to make it a short evening before his early call in the morning. As much as he hated curtailing his nighttime activities, along with the early start... he wasn't regretting that tomorrow would end his commitment to the Nationals competition. That would mean his pursuit of Justin could commence in full force. He had every intention of doing that quickly... and with all the intensity that dwelled within him.

Picking up the number that Ted had promptly supplied earlier, Brian opened his phone, wanting to call Justin before it became any later. Brian bit back a moan when Justin's sleepy voice came across the line; telling Brian in no uncertain terms that his skater boy was presently in bed. Gritting his teeth, mired in his own torment, vowing tomorrow night that this exquisite boy would be celebrating in his bed, Brian huskily growled, "Did I awaken you, Justin?"

Brian could hear the rustling on the other end as he could visualize Justin squirming in bed, becoming instantly alert and awake. He stammered out a response, "Uhhhh B-Brian, is that you?"

"Indeed it is, skater boy. I do hope I haven't interrupted anything... " Brian drawled, not wishing to admit he found the idea of Justin writhing in bed with another man repugnant.

"No, I wasn't asleep, unfortunately. I've been tossing and turning the past hour... exhausted, but my mind won't shut down," Justin admitted.

"That's perfectly understandable tonight. Take my word, Justin. You are going to do well tomorrow. I have seen many skaters in my time... and you are more than ready for this final event," Brian told him seriously.

Sighing deeply, Justin answered, "I hope I am. My coach is a little nervous of me wanting to change my program at the last moment. I guess that's probably not the best of ideas."

"Absolutely not. Last minute grandstanding plays have bit many a promising skater in the ass. I'd hate to see that happen to you... and quite honestly, you don't need such theatrics." Dropping his voice to a low purr, Brian said, "You will need to save that energy for other more pleasurable theatrics... afterwards."

Justin responded with a nervous chuckle, "You never give up, do you?"

"Definitely not... most particularly when I want something so badly," Brian whispered, with a hungry edge to his voice.

"I'm not quite sure how to handle you, Brian. You catch me off balance from each angle."

"Believe me, Justin... when it comes time to handle me, you will do so exquisitely," Brian rasped, with thoughts of Justin's ass clenching around his ramming cock. "However, for now, I think you should get some rest. A tired skater is not a most productive one."

"Yes, you're right. Goodnight, Brian. I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Justin whispered back, followed by a yawn he couldn't quite stifle.

"Goodnight, Justin... and if I don't see you before you take the ice - good luck, although I know you won't need it. And, yes... you will most certainly be seeing me tomorrow... " Brian smiled, before ending the call.

Laying down upon his bed, Brian slid his hand inside his jeans, slowly stroking his cock into aching hardness, with the simple thoughts: Tomorrow, Justin Taylor, skater boy extraordinaire, you will be seeing to my needs. It will be a day neither of us will ever forget... and then finally, I can get back to my life, as it was... before your blond perfection so effortlessly disrupted it.

TBC