Justin enjoyed Brian's squirming for a solid two minutes before he started to feel guilty (he liked knowing how uncomfortable Brian was with the realization that Justin mattered to him). Brian had an inordinate amount of pride, and Justin knew that helping Brian regain some would benefit them both. A defensive Brian was much less receptive to … well … everything. And Justin still felt guilty for being so thoughtless. Brian had nearly lost his job, his progress toward partner, his loft, his pride, his professional reputation, and his reason for being in New York (and, consequently, Justin had nearly lost Brian). Justin should have been first in line to celebrate their averting of disaster (and the success of their collaboration). So he wanted to undo some of the damage he'd done, which he realized was extensive based just on Brian's presence at the club, not to mention his 'near miss' with the blond in red, but he didn't know how. Brian didn't react well to emotional anything, let alone 'outpourings.'

Just then Justin had an epiphany. He abruptly headed to the dance floor (more specifically, to the middle). Daphne had done him a serious solid. She had suggested a cotton-spandex blend white T-shirt (tight with a little stretch and therefore quite formfitting) and silver but not shiny silver pants (light cotton). The tightness of his clothes highlighted his slender form and rounded ass, and the black lights actually gave him an angelic glow. The coloring also meshed well with his porcelain skin and blond hair. He allowed a smile to play over his lips (like he'd seen Brian do on MANY occasions), closed his eyes, lifted his arms above his head, and started to swing his hips side to side. At the same time, he did a slow spin. He thrust his pelvis in and out and gyrated and wiggled his ass – very slowly, even sensuously.

Took about sixty seconds for two men to approach, one in front and one behind. Justin let his arms fall, opened his eyes, and smiled one of his Sunshine smiles (but of course, one infused with sex). The man in front was tall and slender, with olive skin and wavy black hair. The man rested his hands lightly on Justin's hips. Justin gave him 'the look' and laughed, a slow, sexy laugh. Feeling someone else touching him, Justin glanced behind him. That man was thicker (made of muscle) and a bit shorter. He placed a hand on Justin's shoulder and started rubbing his groin against Justin's ass. Justin actually winked at him. Then he closed his eyes again and wiggled. He also started humming Feliz Navidad (Justin's social anxiety didn't often trouble him anymore, but the crowd and being touched by strangers was intense). He imagined Daphne's drunk grandmother and even sang softly, "Philippe la-di-da …" He hoped Brian would claim what (well who) was his and soon.

Brian watched all of this with feigned amusement. He considered simply leaving. He really didn't need to feel the insistent tugging Justin's behavior earlier and now produced. If they were at Babylon in Pittsburgh, Brian would have felt it necessary to show everyone present that Justin wanted him above all others, sauntering up and extricating the boy from the man sandwich in which he was currently embroiled. But here, only a handful of regulars knew Brian, and none of them knew he was in any way connected to Justin. He had no real reputation to preserve, no face to save. He could just leave. And most of Brian wanted to do just that. He didn't like the way Justin made him feel (jealous and possessive, among other emotions). He didn't like that Justin made him feel.

Brian muttered, "Fuck this" and drained his glass. Then he walked out.

Justin had been trying NOT to look back at Brian. He wanted to appear as sexy to Brian as possible, and part of how he was doing that (beyond making it clear that other men wanted him) was by ignoring the man. So … unfortunately … Brian was long gone before Justin even noticed. He'd danced through two songs before starting to worry in earnest. When panic threatened to overwhelm him, causing physical pain it was so acute (an ache in his chest that seemed to seep into his bones), Justin looked over at the mirror behind the bar, trying to catch sight of Brian. A few seconds of nonchalant scanning later, Justin dropped the act and started jerking his head desperately this way and that, trying to locate Brian.

The man behind Justin draped his hands around Justin's neck and ground against Justin harder and the man in front started running his hands over Justin's dick. Justin sighed, shrugged the man behind off, and pushed the man in front away. He made a beeline for the bar, caught the bartender's eye, and leaned almost all the way over the bar so the man could hear Justin. "Where did the guy I bought the drink for go?"

The bartender shrugged. "I think he took off."

Justin let his head fall and cursed. "Fuck!" He started weaving his way through the crowd and then took off running when he reached the stairs. He ran so fast that by the time he'd made it outside he was out of breath. He placed his hands on his waist and bent over slightly, all the while looking around frantically. Brian was nowhere to be seen.

Justin groaned loudly, stomped, and cursed again, "FUCK!" Tears stung his eyes. His plan had backfired. Mightily.

The question was, now what? Should he take a cab to the loft? Or would that make the situation worse? Maybe he should wait for Brian to call him. The problem was, Brian might not. Then he'd have to wait two and a half days to see him (until his internship time Monday afternoon). Justin carded his fingers through his hair roughly. "FUCK!" He didn't know how to act to get the desired response from Brian.

Brian had promised to be exclusive for three months, and he'd proven that he'd keep that promise, no matter how hurt or annoyed he was by Justin, but that didn't mean he had to really connect with Justin. Justin knew that. If Brian decided Justin wasn't worth the time or effort, he could … completely shut down. Then it wouldn't matter that Justin was Brian's temporary one and only. Brian might even be stubborn enough to subsist on masturbation. "FUCK!"

Justin thought he'd hit on the perfect plan to help Brian get back his pride without making himself (Justin) less attractive by being too contrite and eager. And Brian had shot that ingenious plan to hell. He'd doubled down.

Now … Justin had two choices. He had to see Brian as soon as possible (or he'd go crazy), but just appearing at his door was unlikely to fix anything. Not in the long run. Justin couldn't let Brian have all the control. In the end, that would drive Brian further away (to greener pastures). Much as he hated to admit it, he'd have to go home. To an empty bed. And then come up with a pressing excuse to see Brian the next day. A bonafide reason, not an easy-to-see-through bullshit ploy.

But … that wasn't so easy to come by.

Justin buried his face in his hands and cursed once more. "Fuck!"