xie_xie_xie (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
xie_xie_xie) wrote2007-01-08 01:07 pm
xie_xie_xie) wrote2007-01-08 01:07 pm
Entry tags:
Risks, Chapter Five
This is the fifth chapter of Risks, the fourth story in the series that began with Plans, then Decisions, then Desires. There will be one more chapter. Previous chapters are here.
I hestated before putting this warning on this chapter, but my wives and beta said I had to: Angst. It'll be okay. This is the Xieverse and I have spoken.
Speaking of my wives, this chapter is lovingly dedicated to_alicesprings , happier_bunny , and vamphile , for help and inspiration above and beyond the call of wifely duty.
It was beta'd, and hard, bygmta_nz , who rocks my world. Banner and icon by roc_abs .
Risks, Chapter 5
By Xie
All right, I'll take a chance, I will fall in love with you.
If I'm a fool you can have the night, you can have the morning too.
Can you cook and sew, make flowers grow,
Do you understand my pain?
Are you willing to risk it all
Or is your love in vain? - Bob Dylan
Justin’s POV
I went into the kitchen, and Brian was pacing between the table and the counter, his cell phone clutched to his ear, rubbing between his eyes with his other hand. All he was wearing was brown sweatpants. I got some juice out of the refrigerator and sat at the table, drinking it and watching the muscles in his back and upper arms flex while he paced. There were worse ways to spend an evening.
He finally snapped the phone shut. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck everything.”
I swallowed the last of my juice. “Trouble at the office, dear?”
“Worse.” He slammed his phone down on the counter and picked up a half-empty beer bottle and downed it in one swallow. “They left a message the car won’t be ready for another week. At least.”
I tried to look sympathetic. His Corvette had been in the shop since we got back from New York, and he had a rental car. “At least it’ll be home by Christmas.”
He glared at me. I got up and got myself a beer, and another one for him.
Michael was coming over to work on Rage in a couple of hours. I’d originally planned on going to his house, but Hunter had called and said if we didn’t get Michael out of there, he and Ben were leaving. Brian had been over there a few times since Ben came home from the hospital, and had commented to me one night that obsessive pre-surgical hovering appeared to be one of the character traits Michael had inherited from his mother.
I looked speculatively at Brian, who was leaning against the counter, halfway through his second beer. “You should go work out, work off some of that stress.”
He gestured at his sweats. “I just finished working out.”
“How about a long, slow blowjob?”
His lips quirked around the beer bottle, but he didn’t let himself really smile. “Good to see all the money I spent on your education wasn’t totally wasted.”
I got up from the table, walked over, and took his beer bottle and set it behind him on the counter. I put my arms around his neck and leaned against him hard. He smiled at me, and his eyes looked tired. I kissed him more softly than I’d meant to, and then pulled back and looked at him.
I touched my hand to the side of his face. “You okay?”
He touched his forehead to mine. “Nothing getting my dick sucked won’t fix.”
I stood on my toes and kissed him, and then he sighed. “I should really shower.”
“Go shower. I’ll be up in a minute.”
I went into my studio and grabbed a few things for my meeting with Michael, and brought them out to the media room. Brian was in the shower when I got upstairs, and I leaned against the sink and watched him. He had his head tipped back and the water was beating down on his head, running off the ends of his hair, and taking an erratic path down his body.
After a minute he shook his head, turned off the water, and saw me watching him. He smiled at me through the water-splashed glass, then opened the door and got out.
I handed him a towel, and he dried his hair and then his body. I went into the bedroom and kicked off my shoes, and took off my sweatshirt and jeans.
I pulled him onto the bed and ran my hands over him. His muscles were still hard from his workout, and his skin felt hot from the shower.
He started to roll over on top of me, but I pushed him back against the pillows, and lay down next to him on the bed. I slid down and nuzzled his thighs apart, and licked and sucked at his half-hard cock. I loved the feeling of it getting hard in my mouth.
I knew exactly when he let his mind go blank and just let me suck him off, all his awareness on what my mouth was doing to him. My right hand was lying across his abdomen, and he reached for it and held it, clenching his fingers around mine.
He came so deep in my throat there was almost no taste of it my mouth. I crawled up to him and kissed him. His eyes were closed, and when I pulled my lips away from his, he opened them, and gave me a sleepy smile. I kissed him again, on the jaw, and watched his eyes close. After a while he was breathing quietly, and I started to slide off the bed. He caught at me with his hand, and when I looked at him, his eyes were open again.
“Come back.”
I lay down, with my head on his chest, and he started to slide his hand down my arm, but I reached up and curved it around his neck. “It’s okay, Brian. Go to sleep.” I felt his chest rise and fall under my cheek, and a few minutes later he was really asleep. I pulled the duvet lightly over him and went downstairs.
Brian’s POV
I woke up and wasn’t exactly sure what time it was. Or even what day. After a few minutes, I realized Justin hadn’t pulled the drapes; it was dark out. I lay there a little longer, and gradually thought, Saturday. Nighttime. Home. Justin put me in a coma with a blowjob.
I sat up and ran my hand through my hair. I pulled on a pair of jeans and went downstairs. When I got down there, I heard noises from the media room, and then I remembered Michael was coming over to work on Rage. I changed directions and went into the kitchen, but instead of the junk food I expected Michael to have brought, it looked like Justin had actually cooked.
“Hey. You’re up. There’s plenty, help yourself.” It was Justin, standing in the doorway smiling, Michael behind him.
Justin set his and Michael’s dishes in the sink while I put whatever was in the red sauce in the pan on my plate. I sniffed at it, and looked up. Justin was laughing at me. “It’s chicken cacciatore, Debbie’s recipe, according to her, handed down through countless generations of the Grassi family, according to Michael, courtesy of Redbook magazine circa 1982.”
Michael snorted. “Yeah, you pick who to believe.”
I followed Justin and Michael back into the media room. They had all the lights on, and Justin’s sketches were lying all over the floor, on the coffee table, on the desk, and on half the sofa.
I sat down, shoved some drawings out of the way and set my plate on the coffee table. “How come when Ted and I work in here, we manage to keep everything on the table? It wasn’t even this much of a fucking mess when Gus was here.”
I caught them glancing at each other, and then Justin started gathering up his sketches from the sofa and table while Michael picked up the rest.
They went to Justin’s studio, and I turned on the television and ate, then went and poured a glass of scotch. I stood with it by the window, and could see the lights from the Christmas tree in the living room reflecting on the wet ground outside.
I don’t know how long I stood there, but after a while, I heard Justin saying goodnight to Michael, and then saw Michael walking down the path to his car.
“Brian?” It was Justin in the doorway.
I didn’t turn around, just put my glass to my mouth. But it was empty.
I felt him come up behind me. He put his hands on my shoulders firmly, and turned me around. I let him, and he took my glass and set it on the windowsill. He looked at me for a minute, but he didn’t ask me what was wrong. Nothing could have annoyed me more than if he had, but the fact that he didn’t pissed me off, too. I almost laughed.
Whatever Justin was looking for in my face, he apparently didn’t find it, because he stepped back from me and went and sat down on the sofa. He glanced at whatever was on the TV, and then picked up the remote and shut it off.
The room felt too quiet without the television, and I turned back to the window.
“When do you leave?” His voice was quiet.
“Monday.” I had to go to LA and Costa Rica for three days, and wouldn’t be back until Wednesday night. I had to go again in February, for five days. I’d been thinking I’d ask Justin to come, but I hadn’t yet.
I picked my glass up and went and refilled it, and drank it down. “I’m going to bed. See you when you come up.”
Justin looked at me and just nodded.
I thought I’d lie awake for a long time, but I fell asleep almost instantly. I didn’t wake up when Justin came to bed, but I woke up when I felt the bed jerk and heard him make a familiar sound in his throat. I leaned on my elbow, and woke him up.
He rolled away from me, and brought his arm up over his head, and then rolled back. I sat next to him, and then I scooted down and pulled him into my arms. He resisted for a minute, and then put his head on my chest, and I snaked my fingers into his hair. “Five days.”
I felt him nod. “Yeah, it’s getting better.”
“Good, maybe you won’t have one while I’m gone.” I felt him tense when I said that.
“Maybe.”
He didn’t say anything, and I thought he’d gone back to sleep.
Then I heard him sigh. I thought he was going to say he wished I wasn’t going, but he just settled against me, and after a while, I fell back to sleep.
Justin’s POV
Brian left Monday morning, and I spent most of the time he was gone working on Rage. Late Wednesday afternoon, I was sitting on the counter at Red Cape, watching Michael re-arrange the window display. We’d been working on the comic until my hand started shaking enough that Michael noticed. We were still arguing over a part of the storyline involving world-renowned paleontologist Ken Kuschner and the mad scientist whose re-animation experiments had enabled Rage’s enemies to come back to life. We argued for at least an hour over something that would be covered in about five words of dialogue, and not change so much as one line of the drawing for the scene. We finally decided to talk about it again later.
Michael glanced over at me. “So, Brian’ll be home tonight?”
I nodded, and took a sip of my coffee. It had gotten cold. “Late, but tonight.”
“Good. Maybe you’ll get some sleep when he’s back.” He frowned at me. “You look like crap.”
“Thanks.”
“You don’t need coffee, you need a nap.”
I ignored his advice and swallowed more coffee. “You know, I have my own mother, and I have your mother. I’m not actually in need of someone else to nag me about getting enough sleep.”
He nodded, but didn’t look convinced.
I slung my bag across my back and went to the door. “I’m going to get another coffee, want one this time?”
“Yeah, there’s money in the…”
I was already out the door. “I’ll get it.”
When I got back, Michael didn’t bring up my lack of sleep again, and we talked about Rage until Hunter came in, to get a ride home with Michael. I stood on the sidewalk while Michael locked the shop up.
He slammed down the grill. “Want to come for dinner?”
I hesitated. Brian wouldn’t be home until late. “Okay.”
Ben was sitting at the dining room table with his laptop when we came in, and he smiled vaguely in our direction while he typed.
Hunter snorted and dumped his backpack at the foot of the stairs. “Genius at work. Call me when dinner’s ready.”
Michael picked up the backpack and silently handed it to Hunter over the railing. Hunter grabbed it and took it upstairs with him, rolling his eyes.
Michael headed into the kitchen. “Can I get you a beer, water, glass of wine, more caffeine?”
“Beer is good. Thanks.”
He opened a bottle from the refrigerator and handed it to me. Just then an oven timer sounded, and Michael walked to the doorway. Ben held up his hand. “Just a minute, I’m almost done…”
I helped Michael set the table, and after a few minutes Ben shut his laptop and cleared his papers away. I ate with the three of them, and after dinner, Hunter went upstairs to his computer, and Michael cleared the table. I went into the living room with Ben.
“How are you doing? Is the surgery still set for Friday?”
He nodded. “Yeah, and my kidney values have been normal for ten days now, so everyone’s very optimistic about it.”
“That’s good.”
Ben settled back and turned to face me. “You don’t look so great, if you don’t mind my saying. Are you okay?”
Michael was back at the dining room table, clearing some serving dishes. “He’s not sleeping.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “You have insomnia?”
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “I just have some trouble sleeping. It comes and goes.”
“Because Brian’s gone?” He looked uncertain.
I laughed a little. “You make me sound like a lost little boy scared of the dark. No, it’s not that. I have nightmares, if he’s here, he wakes me up, if he’s not, I have the whole thing. It’s not a big deal, I haven’t even had one since he left.”
Ben thought about it for a minute. “Does he know?”
I snorted. “He wakes me up.”
“I mean that you don’t sleep well when he’s not here?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, and changed the subject. I stayed a little while longer, then went home. I still couldn’t quite believe Brian had let Emmett decorate the house again for Christmas, but I loved coming around the bend just before our part of the road, and seeing the house all lit up, and the tree in the window. I pulled into the garage, then came back outside and looked at it for a long time.
It hadn’t snowed in days, just a messy combination of sleet and rain that left everything looking kind of flattened and wet. But the lights on the house sparkled in the moist air, and reflected off the puddles on the ground. After a while I got too cold, and went in the front door.
I carried my portfolio and messenger bag into my studio, and stuck my iPod into its dock. I checked my email and then looked up the status of Brian’s flight online. He was still scheduled to arrive a little past midnight. It was almost 11.
I hesitated, and called his number and left a message on his voice mail. “Hey, call me when you get this.” I didn’t know why I did that. He might not check his messages until the next day, and I knew he’d come straight home.
I got up and went to my worktable, and started working on Rage until I felt the slight weakness in my hand that warned me it was time to stop. I’d found if I stopped the minute I noticed it, I could sometimes start working again in just fifteen or twenty minutes, but if I pushed it, I could lose hours.
Brian never called, even after the website confirmed his flight had come in on time, and I could hardly keep my eyes open. I lay down on the sofa, without turning off the lights, and fell asleep. I woke up when I heard the garage door opening, and I met him in the hall, rubbing my eyes.
He didn’t say anything, but his face relaxed when he saw me, and I felt something inside me relax, then, too. He set his bag down. I walked right up to him, and he put his arms around me, still wearing his coat and scarf. I leaned my forehead against his chest, and he put his cheek on my hair.
“I’d forgotten the lights until the car turned onto this part of the road.” His voice sounded a little rough.
I smiled up at him. “It’s nice. It’s the best on the street.”
He smirked. “Of course it is.” Then he kissed me.
Brian’s POV
When I came in the door, Justin was waiting in the hall. He had dark circles under his eyes, and when I held him, he sighed.
I felt my lips folding in, and I half wanted to walk away and half wanted to fuck Justin on the floor of the hall. I kissed him, and the minute I felt his mouth soften against mine, the familiar heat started to wrap itself around us. He was up on his toes, his arms tight around my neck, and his kiss almost desperate. I unbuttoned my coat, kissing him the whole time, and when I let it drop onto the floor, he finally pulled back, and laughed a little.
We went upstairs, and we both got undressed and into bed. The room was dark, and he felt smooth and warm under my hands. He lay on his back and pulled me down on him, but I resisted and turned him over with my hands, urging him up on his knees while I reached for the lube.
I slid my finger inside him, and he pushed back on it and moaned. I hesitated, then let my thumb rest at his hole, waiting until he felt open, and pressed it inside him, next to my finger. He groaned and I felt him straining against me, and then it slid in, the tight ring clamping down on the base of my thumb.
Justin broke out in a sweat and I eased my thumb out, and then put a second finger in with the first. He had his head buried in his arms.
I pulled out my fingers and put my cock at his opening, and waited, feeling how hot he was there. He pushed against me and I leaned down and kissed his back, tasting his skin and sweat. I let the head of my cock slide in, stretching him, then held absolutely still, waiting for him. He rose up and pushed back, driving himself down on me, surprising me. I felt him clamping on my cock with his ass muscles, pushing down until I was buried in him as deeply as I could go, my arms around his waist, my hands resting on his thighs, holding them open.
He gripped my forearms with his hands, and pushed himself up and back down, and let his head fall back on my shoulder. He worked my cock with his muscles, and I felt my orgasm start to burn at the base of my spine and spin out towards my balls and cock. I tried to hold it back, but he lifted himself up and rammed back down on me again.
I clamped my teeth down hard on his shoulder, and he said, “Brian,” and my fingers tightened on his thighs again. I tried to move my hand towards his cock, but he held it away, and started groaning while he raised and lowered himself on me.
My head was bent down, my mouth on his shoulder and neck, and he tightened his ass and slid up and down on me. I let my teeth close on his skin again, while everything shifted and burned inside me, and spilled out of my cock and deep inside Justin. I knew he was coming because his fingers dug painfully into my arms, his nails cutting into my skin, even before I felt his ass clamp hard on me.
I finally lowered him down and kissed the bite marks on his neck and back, and lay on top of him, trying to keep my weight off him, but cover him at the same time.
After what felt like a long time, when I was either asleep or almost asleep, I felt Justin move under me. I rolled over and let him turn onto his back, and pulled him into my arms. I knew we were smeared with come and lube and really should shower or, at least, clean up a little, but I was too tired to care.
I woke up the next morning alone. I was stiff and had a headache. I rolled out of bed and showered, then went downstairs and got some coffee. It was almost 10:30. I heard music from Justin’s studio, and took my coffee into the media room and checked my email and messages. I listened to Justin’s message from the night before, and wondered what he’d wanted. He hadn’t said anything when I got home.
I went out into the hall, where my bag was still lying near the door from the garage. I pulled my passport and some other papers out of the side pocket, and went back into the media room. I opened the safe to put my passport away.
I pulled out the folder I kept it in, and brushed against the corner of the box Justin’s and my wedding rings were in. I opened the box and walked away from the safe, over to the desk, and sat down. They looked just like they always did, smooth and platinum, catching the light.
I closed the box and stuck it under some papers when I heard Justin in the hall. He came in, and I glanced up at him.
“I just got your message from last night, did you need something before I came home?”
He shook his head. “I just wanted to know you got in.”
“The airline website…”
He cut me off. “I know.”
I looked at him for a minute, not sure what to say. “I didn’t even turn on my phone.”
“It’s okay, it wasn’t important.” He nodded his head towards the safe. “The whole point of that is to keep it locked.”
I looked over. “I was putting my passport away and got distracted.” I got up and slipped my passport into its folder, and shut the safe door.
Justin sat on the sofa. “Are you going into the office today?”
I shook my head. “I’m going to work from home, and try to get to bed early. I told Michael I’d be there as close to six as I could.”
“Six?”
“Hospitals are terrible institutions, Justin. They make you stop eating and drinking at midnight, then tell you to come in at 6 in the morning, and then they don’t do your procedure until 3 in the afternoon.”
Justin got up and came over to me. “That’s why you’re supposed to have your loved ones hovering nearby, to entertain you while you wait.”
I just looked at him for a minute, and then nodded. He was standing right in front of me, and I put my hands on the back of his waist and pressed my face against his stomach. He rested his hands on my head.
I looked up at him, and his hands slid down to my shoulders. “Ben will have enough loved ones to entertain the whole surgical ward.”
“Good.” He pulled away and walked over to the window, then came back to the desk. “I’m going to work on the comic for a little while. And maybe paint, I had an idea about something I want to try.”
My cell phone rang after Justin left the room. It was Michael, calling to go through the same boring recitation of all his worst fears, interspersed with my dispassionate logical treatises on why none of it would happen, followed with him accusing me of being the most pessimistic person who ever lived, and who was I to tell him things would work out in the end?
There was really nothing to say to that, so I told him I’d see him in the morning.
Justin’s POV
The day of Ben’s surgery, Brian got up at 5 and stumbled into the shower. I went down and started the coffee, and while it was brewing, he came into the kitchen in bare feet, his hair wet, and wrapped himself around me.
I held onto him for a while, and when the coffee was done, I went back upstairs with him and watched him get dressed.
He looked at me. “You’re going back to sleep, aren’t you?”
I nodded. “I’m just the sidekick. We get to sleep late.”
He bit back a smile and nudged the side of the bed with his foot. “I’ll call you when we know anything, but you know how they are about cell phones there.”
“Okay. Tell Michael to call me if he needs me to do anything. Or wants anything.”
He nodded and headed out, and I went back to sleep.
I opened the store at 11, and I was still turning on lights when my phone rang. I dug it out of my jacket pocket.
“Hey.”
“Hey. He hasn’t gone in yet. Three hours late, so we’re right on schedule so far.”
I laughed. “Okay. How’s Michael?”
“Being brave for his man, but I’m sure as soon as they take Ben away he’ll release his inner drama queen.”
“Hunter?”
“Irritating but stoic.”
“Debbie?”
He groaned. “Don’t ask.”
I hesitated. “How about you?”
“Me? I’m fabulous, sucking down hospital coffee and watching Mikey hold the Professor’s hand. I couldn’t be better.”
I heard the sound of traffic. “Where are you?”
“Out front using my cell phone. Wouldn’t want to accidentally disrupt someone’s brain transplant with an untimely call.”
“Okay, I’m just opening up now, call me when they take him to surgery, so I know.”
“Later.”
“Later.”
I didn’t hear anything more until 2, when Debbie called. She said they’d taken Ben in ten minutes before, and they were all going to get something to eat and then wait.
I closed up at 6, and still didn’t know anything. It had been pretty quiet all day in the store, probably because by lunchtime it had started sleeting again. I wished it would either snow or rain instead. But I processed almost seven hundred dollars of sales on eBay and the website.
I was just getting ready to drive over to the hospital when my phone rang.
“What’s going on?”
I heard Brian lighting a cigarette, but I ignored it. “He’s out of surgery, and Michael’s with him. They said only one person can be in there tonight, so I’m going to go by Kinnetik and pick something up, and then go home.”
I told him I’d see him there, and hung up.
It was almost 7:30 when I got home, because of the crappy weather, and there was no sign of Brian. By 9 I was getting pretty worried, but his cell was rolling straight to voice mail. I was sitting in the media room trying to watch TV, but there was nothing on. I went into the kitchen and made some eggs, and carried the plate over to the computer.
I set my plate down on a stack of papers on the desk, and it wobbled a little. I pushed the papers back and saw a box. It took me a minute to realize what it was, and that Brian must have gotten it out the day before, when he had the safe open.
I sat at the desk and opened the box, and looked at the rings. I wondered what Brian was doing with them. There were times I didn’t know what the fuck was going on in his mind.
I heard his car, and then the garage door opening and closing. I almost hid the rings back under the papers, but I decided that was stupid, and I just sat there.
When he came in, he went straight to the bar and poured a drink. He knocked back half of it, then looked at me. He lifted the bottle in his left hand and lifted his eyebrow. I shook my head, and he finished the rest of his drink.
And then he saw the rings in my hand. I put the box down and got up. I didn’t feel like talking to him about the rings right then.
“Any news?”
He shook his head. “They said it went fine, we probably won’t know anything more until tomorrow. Michael’s with him.” He poured another drink, then looked at me. “So, you were playing with our rings?”
I shrugged. “They were on the desk. Did you get them out yesterday when you had the safe open?”
He didn’t answer, just took his drink over to the window.
I thought, fuck this. I walked over to him, and ignored the “no trespassing” signs, and wrapped my arms around his waist. He felt tense for a minute, then relaxed. He turned all the way around and pulled me tightly against him, and kissed me.
Sometimes Brian just needed to fuck, and honestly, sometimes, so did I. I knew he was freaking out, I knew he’d rather swallow ground glass than talk about it, and I was tired of being okay with that.
I kissed him and let him tip my head back, his hands gripping my hair and his mouth moving against mine.
I heard his glass drop to the floor behind me, but I didn’t turn to see if it broke.
Brian’s POV
Justin was warm and easy in my arms. I dragged my lips down to his throat, then back up the side of his neck. I bit his ear lobe, and let my tongue flicker at his ear. He gave a little groan.
I slid my right hand inside his shirt, palm pressing against his stomach. I let my fingers brush just under the waistband of his jeans, and I felt him draw in a breath, pulling in his belly so my hand could slide inside. I cupped his cock through his underpants, feeling the wetness spreading through the rough cotton. He was rubbing himself against my hand, pushing hard on me, pressing my arm tight between our bodies.
I pulled my hand out, and reached around and gripped the backs of his thighs with both my hands. I was still kissing him, my tongue in his mouth, his head falling back. I bent my knees and lifted him up, pulling him into me. I walked him a few steps back, until his legs were against the sofa. I let his feet slide back down to the floor, and started to open his jeans and push him back. He stopped me.
“Come to bed.” His voice was husky.
I let my forehead touch his, and started to follow him out of the room. He was holding my hand, and he turned and smiled at me over his shoulder, and I felt a wave of restlessness hit me. I pulled on his hand and tugged his body back against mine again, kissing him hard. He pulled away, and put his hands on either side of my face, and looked at me.
I just stood there.
Justin tried again. “Come up with me.”
I shook my head, and walked back over and stared out the window. I half wanted him to come back and try to make me come to bed with him, and half thought if he did, I’d put my fist through the glass.
His hand was on my shoulder, and I almost jumped. “Brian….”
I didn’t say anything, and I heard him sigh. He brushed a kiss against my neck, and I felt my jaw tense.
I turned and looked at him. He had that patient look on his face.
“I’m going out.” That made his face change, but just for a second.
“Okay.” He said it slowly.
I looked at him for a minute. “I just need to go out.”
He nodded. “I said okay.” I started to say something, and he cut me off. “And yes, I know you don’t need my permission. Do whatever you want, Brian.”
I snorted. “You do very well as the understanding wife. You should be proud.”
He didn’t say anything, just stood there. I walked away from him, over to the desk, and then turned around.
“You know, Justin, it’s not cooking that makes you the wife, and it’s not getting fucked in the ass that makes you the wife. It’s not these fucking rings that make you the wife.” I brushed the open box off the desk, onto the floor. “It’s being understanding, that’s what makes you the wife.”
Justin had watched me swat the rings onto the floor, and his jaw tightened. “Stop it, Brian.”
I walked over to the bar and got a new glass, and filled it. I looked at him. “I guess you learned that from your mother. I’m sure Jennifer was always very understanding about Craig, too.”
Justin looked me right in the eye. “Do whatever you need to do, Brian. But get the fuck out of here.”
I stood there staring at him. He turned his back on me and went upstairs.
I waited a few more minutes for my heart to stop hammering, then I went into the hall and grabbed my jacket. I dug for the keys to my fucking rental car, but they weren’t there. The little asshole had taken them upstairs with him.
I pulled out my cell phone and called the car service, and used the time waiting for them to finish the rest of the bottle of scotch. By the time they got there, I was thinking just passing out on the sofa might be a good idea, but I got in the car and had him take me to Babylon. I walked into the club, and everyone looked surprised to see me. I realized I hadn’t been there without Justin since last December. Nearly a year.
I went up to the office, kicked the door shut, and locked it. I kept scotch in the office, and I grabbed the bottle, and sat down at the desk. I could feel the music through the walls and floor, and after a while the beat seemed soothing, almost like a heartbeat. I walked over to the sofa and lay down, the bottle open on the floor beside me. I stared at the overhead light, and thought about having the lighting in the office redesigned. It was too harsh. And then I closed my eyes.
Justin’s POV
I only stayed upstairs until I heard Brian slam out the front door. I went back down, and put his keys on the hall table, and went into the media room.
There was an empty bottle on the floor by the sofa, and the rings were where they’d fallen when Brian knocked them off the desk. I picked up the box and put it on the desk, then picked up the rings and closed them in my hand.
I walked over to the window, and looked out, thinking of all the nights in the year since I’d been home that Brian had stood there, staring out. The Christmas lights made shadows and reflections on the ground and the trees, and I let my forehead rest against the glass.
After a few minutes, I looked at the rings again. They were identical, platinum, wide and a little dull, but with a soft sheen in the light. The edges were curved, making them look old, even though they weren’t. Brian had picked them out, his just a little bigger than mine.
I put mine on, and then put his on my middle finger, and then pulled his off again and just held it in my hand.
It started to sleet again while I was looking out the window, and a gust of wind made the lights flicker. I pulled back from the glass and thought about what I wanted to do. I could sleep, I could try to paint. I couldn’t draw, my hand wasn’t up to it. I could fuck around on the computer, or go to bed and stare at the ceiling, and pathetically wonder where Brian was.
The lights flickered again, and I went into the living room. I put Brian’s ring in my pocket, and piled some logs in the fireplace. I pressed the gas starter and it roared to life, the logs catching right away. I went and sat down on the sofa. I wasn’t sure if it was more or less pathetic to sit in here or lie in bed, but at least this was something different.
I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them. The sleet had turned to hail and I could hear it pebbling on the glass roof of the hot tub room, and against the windows when the wind blew. The lights stayed on, though.
I sat on the sofa and listened to the hail and thought. I thought about New York, and all the nights I couldn’t sleep, missing him. I looked at the firelight on my ring, and the Christmas tree, and the wrapped presents under it. I remembered last year, and the look in Brian’s eyes when I walked in the kitchen door two days before Christmas. And I thought about him coming inside me, and me inside him, and the sound of his voice when he said my name.
I thought about him telling me he loved me, in the rain outside Babylon, in this room, in bed, when he came, his voice harsh and his hands gripping me so hard he left bruises. I thought about him telling me he’d bought this house, saying he was taking a chance on love.
On me.
I remembered the night before I left for New York, and the helpless way I loved him then. I remembered him lying behind me on the sofa, crying, telling me he’d thought I’d died after the prom, and how I thought that night I couldn’t love Brian more. Until I did.
I stood up and took Brian’s ring out of my pocket and put it on the coffee table, and put more logs on the fire. I pulled a blanket off one of the chairs and lay down on the sofa, and pulled it over me.
I never really went all the way to sleep, just slipped in and out of it, until I heard the car in the driveway, and sat up. I didn’t know where he’d go, if he’d go upstairs or look for me downstairs first. Depending on how drunk he was, he might not notice the tree lights were still on. He might not even come in.
But he did.
He came and stood next to the sofa, staring at me. His hair was sticking out all over the place, and his eyes were bloodshot and edged with red. His cheeks were red, from the cold, and his lower lip was chapped.
He folded his lips in, then out again, and stuck one hand behind his back. He pushed his other hand through his hair, and bit his lip. I almost laughed, but I was afraid it would make me cry, so I didn’t.
“Does this make you feel better, Justin?” His voice was quiet, but a little mocking, too. “The Christmas lights, the fire, the wedding rings?” He nodded at his ring, on the table.
I looked at him. “Yes.” I didn’t say anything else.
He sat down heavily on the sofa next to me, looking at his ring, and then at the fire. “I don’t understand that.”
“I know.”
He snorted. “God, I fucking hate it when you say that.”
I shrugged. “Get over it.”
He looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “Decided to try being a little less understanding?”
“Stop. Just stop.” I got up. I was absolutely not going to listen to this again.
Brian grabbed my left hand, and pulled me around to face him. “I’ll stop.”
I sat down and looked at him. “I don’t just mean now. This has to stop.”
He nodded. “I know.”
I laughed, and after a second, so did he, and pushed his hand through his hair again. He looked sideways at me, and bit his lip.
I took a deep breath. “Do you think it’s all romantic bullshit, Brian? The Christmas tree lights, and the wedding rings, and the fireplace?”
He shrugged but didn’t answer me.
“Because it’s all your romantic bullshit, Brian. You bought this house, you bought this fireplace, you bought the fucking firewood. You bought the Christmas tree, and the lights, and you bought these fucking rings. I never asked you for any of this. Never.”
He turned his head, and his eyes looked hurt, but I just stood up, and picked up his ring from the table. “You can tell me it’s all bullshit if you want. You can throw our rings on the floor and tell me to fuck off. Go ahead.” I started to pull my ring off, his still in my palm, and Brian grabbed my hand and stood up. He didn’t let go of my hand, just pulled it up and shoved my ring back down on my finger.
“Don’t.” He had his forehead pressed against mine, and his hand was clenching so hard on mine it hurt.
I felt tears burn in my eyes again. “Why, Brian? Why shouldn’t I? You did.”
He shook his head, and dug his ring out of my palm, and pushed it hard on the finger of his left hand. “Don’t.”
I closed my eyes, and he just pressed his forehead harder against me, and held our hands together tighter.
“Brian…”
“Justin, Justin, please… just…” and he kissed me, and I thought, sometimes there just aren’t words for everything. He broke his mouth away from mine, and let go of my hands, and brought his up to either side of my face, his fingers lacing into my hair. He kissed my forehead, and then my hair, and looked at me. “I love you.”
He pulled me down on the sofa, and I crawled up onto him and pushed him against the arm, and kissed him. And we didn’t fuck, or talk. We just sat there in front of the fireplace, with the bullshit romantic fire and Christmas tree lights, and our wedding rings, and held onto each other until we fell asleep.
Continued here....
I hestated before putting this warning on this chapter, but my wives and beta said I had to: Angst. It'll be okay. This is the Xieverse and I have spoken.
Speaking of my wives, this chapter is lovingly dedicated to
_alicesprings , happier_bunny , and vamphile , for help and inspiration above and beyond the call of wifely duty. It was beta'd, and hard, by
gmta_nz , who rocks my world. Banner and icon by roc_abs . Risks, Chapter 5
By Xie
All right, I'll take a chance, I will fall in love with you.
If I'm a fool you can have the night, you can have the morning too.
Can you cook and sew, make flowers grow,
Do you understand my pain?
Are you willing to risk it all
Or is your love in vain? - Bob Dylan
Justin’s POV
I went into the kitchen, and Brian was pacing between the table and the counter, his cell phone clutched to his ear, rubbing between his eyes with his other hand. All he was wearing was brown sweatpants. I got some juice out of the refrigerator and sat at the table, drinking it and watching the muscles in his back and upper arms flex while he paced. There were worse ways to spend an evening.
He finally snapped the phone shut. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck everything.”
I swallowed the last of my juice. “Trouble at the office, dear?”
“Worse.” He slammed his phone down on the counter and picked up a half-empty beer bottle and downed it in one swallow. “They left a message the car won’t be ready for another week. At least.”
I tried to look sympathetic. His Corvette had been in the shop since we got back from New York, and he had a rental car. “At least it’ll be home by Christmas.”
He glared at me. I got up and got myself a beer, and another one for him.
Michael was coming over to work on Rage in a couple of hours. I’d originally planned on going to his house, but Hunter had called and said if we didn’t get Michael out of there, he and Ben were leaving. Brian had been over there a few times since Ben came home from the hospital, and had commented to me one night that obsessive pre-surgical hovering appeared to be one of the character traits Michael had inherited from his mother.
I looked speculatively at Brian, who was leaning against the counter, halfway through his second beer. “You should go work out, work off some of that stress.”
He gestured at his sweats. “I just finished working out.”
“How about a long, slow blowjob?”
His lips quirked around the beer bottle, but he didn’t let himself really smile. “Good to see all the money I spent on your education wasn’t totally wasted.”
I got up from the table, walked over, and took his beer bottle and set it behind him on the counter. I put my arms around his neck and leaned against him hard. He smiled at me, and his eyes looked tired. I kissed him more softly than I’d meant to, and then pulled back and looked at him.
I touched my hand to the side of his face. “You okay?”
He touched his forehead to mine. “Nothing getting my dick sucked won’t fix.”
I stood on my toes and kissed him, and then he sighed. “I should really shower.”
“Go shower. I’ll be up in a minute.”
I went into my studio and grabbed a few things for my meeting with Michael, and brought them out to the media room. Brian was in the shower when I got upstairs, and I leaned against the sink and watched him. He had his head tipped back and the water was beating down on his head, running off the ends of his hair, and taking an erratic path down his body.
After a minute he shook his head, turned off the water, and saw me watching him. He smiled at me through the water-splashed glass, then opened the door and got out.
I handed him a towel, and he dried his hair and then his body. I went into the bedroom and kicked off my shoes, and took off my sweatshirt and jeans.
I pulled him onto the bed and ran my hands over him. His muscles were still hard from his workout, and his skin felt hot from the shower.
He started to roll over on top of me, but I pushed him back against the pillows, and lay down next to him on the bed. I slid down and nuzzled his thighs apart, and licked and sucked at his half-hard cock. I loved the feeling of it getting hard in my mouth.
I knew exactly when he let his mind go blank and just let me suck him off, all his awareness on what my mouth was doing to him. My right hand was lying across his abdomen, and he reached for it and held it, clenching his fingers around mine.
He came so deep in my throat there was almost no taste of it my mouth. I crawled up to him and kissed him. His eyes were closed, and when I pulled my lips away from his, he opened them, and gave me a sleepy smile. I kissed him again, on the jaw, and watched his eyes close. After a while he was breathing quietly, and I started to slide off the bed. He caught at me with his hand, and when I looked at him, his eyes were open again.
“Come back.”
I lay down, with my head on his chest, and he started to slide his hand down my arm, but I reached up and curved it around his neck. “It’s okay, Brian. Go to sleep.” I felt his chest rise and fall under my cheek, and a few minutes later he was really asleep. I pulled the duvet lightly over him and went downstairs.
Brian’s POV
I woke up and wasn’t exactly sure what time it was. Or even what day. After a few minutes, I realized Justin hadn’t pulled the drapes; it was dark out. I lay there a little longer, and gradually thought, Saturday. Nighttime. Home. Justin put me in a coma with a blowjob.
I sat up and ran my hand through my hair. I pulled on a pair of jeans and went downstairs. When I got down there, I heard noises from the media room, and then I remembered Michael was coming over to work on Rage. I changed directions and went into the kitchen, but instead of the junk food I expected Michael to have brought, it looked like Justin had actually cooked.
“Hey. You’re up. There’s plenty, help yourself.” It was Justin, standing in the doorway smiling, Michael behind him.
Justin set his and Michael’s dishes in the sink while I put whatever was in the red sauce in the pan on my plate. I sniffed at it, and looked up. Justin was laughing at me. “It’s chicken cacciatore, Debbie’s recipe, according to her, handed down through countless generations of the Grassi family, according to Michael, courtesy of Redbook magazine circa 1982.”
Michael snorted. “Yeah, you pick who to believe.”
I followed Justin and Michael back into the media room. They had all the lights on, and Justin’s sketches were lying all over the floor, on the coffee table, on the desk, and on half the sofa.
I sat down, shoved some drawings out of the way and set my plate on the coffee table. “How come when Ted and I work in here, we manage to keep everything on the table? It wasn’t even this much of a fucking mess when Gus was here.”
I caught them glancing at each other, and then Justin started gathering up his sketches from the sofa and table while Michael picked up the rest.
They went to Justin’s studio, and I turned on the television and ate, then went and poured a glass of scotch. I stood with it by the window, and could see the lights from the Christmas tree in the living room reflecting on the wet ground outside.
I don’t know how long I stood there, but after a while, I heard Justin saying goodnight to Michael, and then saw Michael walking down the path to his car.
“Brian?” It was Justin in the doorway.
I didn’t turn around, just put my glass to my mouth. But it was empty.
I felt him come up behind me. He put his hands on my shoulders firmly, and turned me around. I let him, and he took my glass and set it on the windowsill. He looked at me for a minute, but he didn’t ask me what was wrong. Nothing could have annoyed me more than if he had, but the fact that he didn’t pissed me off, too. I almost laughed.
Whatever Justin was looking for in my face, he apparently didn’t find it, because he stepped back from me and went and sat down on the sofa. He glanced at whatever was on the TV, and then picked up the remote and shut it off.
The room felt too quiet without the television, and I turned back to the window.
“When do you leave?” His voice was quiet.
“Monday.” I had to go to LA and Costa Rica for three days, and wouldn’t be back until Wednesday night. I had to go again in February, for five days. I’d been thinking I’d ask Justin to come, but I hadn’t yet.
I picked my glass up and went and refilled it, and drank it down. “I’m going to bed. See you when you come up.”
Justin looked at me and just nodded.
I thought I’d lie awake for a long time, but I fell asleep almost instantly. I didn’t wake up when Justin came to bed, but I woke up when I felt the bed jerk and heard him make a familiar sound in his throat. I leaned on my elbow, and woke him up.
He rolled away from me, and brought his arm up over his head, and then rolled back. I sat next to him, and then I scooted down and pulled him into my arms. He resisted for a minute, and then put his head on my chest, and I snaked my fingers into his hair. “Five days.”
I felt him nod. “Yeah, it’s getting better.”
“Good, maybe you won’t have one while I’m gone.” I felt him tense when I said that.
“Maybe.”
He didn’t say anything, and I thought he’d gone back to sleep.
Then I heard him sigh. I thought he was going to say he wished I wasn’t going, but he just settled against me, and after a while, I fell back to sleep.
Justin’s POV
Brian left Monday morning, and I spent most of the time he was gone working on Rage. Late Wednesday afternoon, I was sitting on the counter at Red Cape, watching Michael re-arrange the window display. We’d been working on the comic until my hand started shaking enough that Michael noticed. We were still arguing over a part of the storyline involving world-renowned paleontologist Ken Kuschner and the mad scientist whose re-animation experiments had enabled Rage’s enemies to come back to life. We argued for at least an hour over something that would be covered in about five words of dialogue, and not change so much as one line of the drawing for the scene. We finally decided to talk about it again later.
Michael glanced over at me. “So, Brian’ll be home tonight?”
I nodded, and took a sip of my coffee. It had gotten cold. “Late, but tonight.”
“Good. Maybe you’ll get some sleep when he’s back.” He frowned at me. “You look like crap.”
“Thanks.”
“You don’t need coffee, you need a nap.”
I ignored his advice and swallowed more coffee. “You know, I have my own mother, and I have your mother. I’m not actually in need of someone else to nag me about getting enough sleep.”
He nodded, but didn’t look convinced.
I slung my bag across my back and went to the door. “I’m going to get another coffee, want one this time?”
“Yeah, there’s money in the…”
I was already out the door. “I’ll get it.”
When I got back, Michael didn’t bring up my lack of sleep again, and we talked about Rage until Hunter came in, to get a ride home with Michael. I stood on the sidewalk while Michael locked the shop up.
He slammed down the grill. “Want to come for dinner?”
I hesitated. Brian wouldn’t be home until late. “Okay.”
Ben was sitting at the dining room table with his laptop when we came in, and he smiled vaguely in our direction while he typed.
Hunter snorted and dumped his backpack at the foot of the stairs. “Genius at work. Call me when dinner’s ready.”
Michael picked up the backpack and silently handed it to Hunter over the railing. Hunter grabbed it and took it upstairs with him, rolling his eyes.
Michael headed into the kitchen. “Can I get you a beer, water, glass of wine, more caffeine?”
“Beer is good. Thanks.”
He opened a bottle from the refrigerator and handed it to me. Just then an oven timer sounded, and Michael walked to the doorway. Ben held up his hand. “Just a minute, I’m almost done…”
I helped Michael set the table, and after a few minutes Ben shut his laptop and cleared his papers away. I ate with the three of them, and after dinner, Hunter went upstairs to his computer, and Michael cleared the table. I went into the living room with Ben.
“How are you doing? Is the surgery still set for Friday?”
He nodded. “Yeah, and my kidney values have been normal for ten days now, so everyone’s very optimistic about it.”
“That’s good.”
Ben settled back and turned to face me. “You don’t look so great, if you don’t mind my saying. Are you okay?”
Michael was back at the dining room table, clearing some serving dishes. “He’s not sleeping.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “You have insomnia?”
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “I just have some trouble sleeping. It comes and goes.”
“Because Brian’s gone?” He looked uncertain.
I laughed a little. “You make me sound like a lost little boy scared of the dark. No, it’s not that. I have nightmares, if he’s here, he wakes me up, if he’s not, I have the whole thing. It’s not a big deal, I haven’t even had one since he left.”
Ben thought about it for a minute. “Does he know?”
I snorted. “He wakes me up.”
“I mean that you don’t sleep well when he’s not here?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, and changed the subject. I stayed a little while longer, then went home. I still couldn’t quite believe Brian had let Emmett decorate the house again for Christmas, but I loved coming around the bend just before our part of the road, and seeing the house all lit up, and the tree in the window. I pulled into the garage, then came back outside and looked at it for a long time.
It hadn’t snowed in days, just a messy combination of sleet and rain that left everything looking kind of flattened and wet. But the lights on the house sparkled in the moist air, and reflected off the puddles on the ground. After a while I got too cold, and went in the front door.
I carried my portfolio and messenger bag into my studio, and stuck my iPod into its dock. I checked my email and then looked up the status of Brian’s flight online. He was still scheduled to arrive a little past midnight. It was almost 11.
I hesitated, and called his number and left a message on his voice mail. “Hey, call me when you get this.” I didn’t know why I did that. He might not check his messages until the next day, and I knew he’d come straight home.
I got up and went to my worktable, and started working on Rage until I felt the slight weakness in my hand that warned me it was time to stop. I’d found if I stopped the minute I noticed it, I could sometimes start working again in just fifteen or twenty minutes, but if I pushed it, I could lose hours.
Brian never called, even after the website confirmed his flight had come in on time, and I could hardly keep my eyes open. I lay down on the sofa, without turning off the lights, and fell asleep. I woke up when I heard the garage door opening, and I met him in the hall, rubbing my eyes.
He didn’t say anything, but his face relaxed when he saw me, and I felt something inside me relax, then, too. He set his bag down. I walked right up to him, and he put his arms around me, still wearing his coat and scarf. I leaned my forehead against his chest, and he put his cheek on my hair.
“I’d forgotten the lights until the car turned onto this part of the road.” His voice sounded a little rough.
I smiled up at him. “It’s nice. It’s the best on the street.”
He smirked. “Of course it is.” Then he kissed me.
Brian’s POV
When I came in the door, Justin was waiting in the hall. He had dark circles under his eyes, and when I held him, he sighed.
I felt my lips folding in, and I half wanted to walk away and half wanted to fuck Justin on the floor of the hall. I kissed him, and the minute I felt his mouth soften against mine, the familiar heat started to wrap itself around us. He was up on his toes, his arms tight around my neck, and his kiss almost desperate. I unbuttoned my coat, kissing him the whole time, and when I let it drop onto the floor, he finally pulled back, and laughed a little.
We went upstairs, and we both got undressed and into bed. The room was dark, and he felt smooth and warm under my hands. He lay on his back and pulled me down on him, but I resisted and turned him over with my hands, urging him up on his knees while I reached for the lube.
I slid my finger inside him, and he pushed back on it and moaned. I hesitated, then let my thumb rest at his hole, waiting until he felt open, and pressed it inside him, next to my finger. He groaned and I felt him straining against me, and then it slid in, the tight ring clamping down on the base of my thumb.
Justin broke out in a sweat and I eased my thumb out, and then put a second finger in with the first. He had his head buried in his arms.
I pulled out my fingers and put my cock at his opening, and waited, feeling how hot he was there. He pushed against me and I leaned down and kissed his back, tasting his skin and sweat. I let the head of my cock slide in, stretching him, then held absolutely still, waiting for him. He rose up and pushed back, driving himself down on me, surprising me. I felt him clamping on my cock with his ass muscles, pushing down until I was buried in him as deeply as I could go, my arms around his waist, my hands resting on his thighs, holding them open.
He gripped my forearms with his hands, and pushed himself up and back down, and let his head fall back on my shoulder. He worked my cock with his muscles, and I felt my orgasm start to burn at the base of my spine and spin out towards my balls and cock. I tried to hold it back, but he lifted himself up and rammed back down on me again.
I clamped my teeth down hard on his shoulder, and he said, “Brian,” and my fingers tightened on his thighs again. I tried to move my hand towards his cock, but he held it away, and started groaning while he raised and lowered himself on me.
My head was bent down, my mouth on his shoulder and neck, and he tightened his ass and slid up and down on me. I let my teeth close on his skin again, while everything shifted and burned inside me, and spilled out of my cock and deep inside Justin. I knew he was coming because his fingers dug painfully into my arms, his nails cutting into my skin, even before I felt his ass clamp hard on me.
I finally lowered him down and kissed the bite marks on his neck and back, and lay on top of him, trying to keep my weight off him, but cover him at the same time.
After what felt like a long time, when I was either asleep or almost asleep, I felt Justin move under me. I rolled over and let him turn onto his back, and pulled him into my arms. I knew we were smeared with come and lube and really should shower or, at least, clean up a little, but I was too tired to care.
I woke up the next morning alone. I was stiff and had a headache. I rolled out of bed and showered, then went downstairs and got some coffee. It was almost 10:30. I heard music from Justin’s studio, and took my coffee into the media room and checked my email and messages. I listened to Justin’s message from the night before, and wondered what he’d wanted. He hadn’t said anything when I got home.
I went out into the hall, where my bag was still lying near the door from the garage. I pulled my passport and some other papers out of the side pocket, and went back into the media room. I opened the safe to put my passport away.
I pulled out the folder I kept it in, and brushed against the corner of the box Justin’s and my wedding rings were in. I opened the box and walked away from the safe, over to the desk, and sat down. They looked just like they always did, smooth and platinum, catching the light.
I closed the box and stuck it under some papers when I heard Justin in the hall. He came in, and I glanced up at him.
“I just got your message from last night, did you need something before I came home?”
He shook his head. “I just wanted to know you got in.”
“The airline website…”
He cut me off. “I know.”
I looked at him for a minute, not sure what to say. “I didn’t even turn on my phone.”
“It’s okay, it wasn’t important.” He nodded his head towards the safe. “The whole point of that is to keep it locked.”
I looked over. “I was putting my passport away and got distracted.” I got up and slipped my passport into its folder, and shut the safe door.
Justin sat on the sofa. “Are you going into the office today?”
I shook my head. “I’m going to work from home, and try to get to bed early. I told Michael I’d be there as close to six as I could.”
“Six?”
“Hospitals are terrible institutions, Justin. They make you stop eating and drinking at midnight, then tell you to come in at 6 in the morning, and then they don’t do your procedure until 3 in the afternoon.”
Justin got up and came over to me. “That’s why you’re supposed to have your loved ones hovering nearby, to entertain you while you wait.”
I just looked at him for a minute, and then nodded. He was standing right in front of me, and I put my hands on the back of his waist and pressed my face against his stomach. He rested his hands on my head.
I looked up at him, and his hands slid down to my shoulders. “Ben will have enough loved ones to entertain the whole surgical ward.”
“Good.” He pulled away and walked over to the window, then came back to the desk. “I’m going to work on the comic for a little while. And maybe paint, I had an idea about something I want to try.”
My cell phone rang after Justin left the room. It was Michael, calling to go through the same boring recitation of all his worst fears, interspersed with my dispassionate logical treatises on why none of it would happen, followed with him accusing me of being the most pessimistic person who ever lived, and who was I to tell him things would work out in the end?
There was really nothing to say to that, so I told him I’d see him in the morning.
Justin’s POV
The day of Ben’s surgery, Brian got up at 5 and stumbled into the shower. I went down and started the coffee, and while it was brewing, he came into the kitchen in bare feet, his hair wet, and wrapped himself around me.
I held onto him for a while, and when the coffee was done, I went back upstairs with him and watched him get dressed.
He looked at me. “You’re going back to sleep, aren’t you?”
I nodded. “I’m just the sidekick. We get to sleep late.”
He bit back a smile and nudged the side of the bed with his foot. “I’ll call you when we know anything, but you know how they are about cell phones there.”
“Okay. Tell Michael to call me if he needs me to do anything. Or wants anything.”
He nodded and headed out, and I went back to sleep.
I opened the store at 11, and I was still turning on lights when my phone rang. I dug it out of my jacket pocket.
“Hey.”
“Hey. He hasn’t gone in yet. Three hours late, so we’re right on schedule so far.”
I laughed. “Okay. How’s Michael?”
“Being brave for his man, but I’m sure as soon as they take Ben away he’ll release his inner drama queen.”
“Hunter?”
“Irritating but stoic.”
“Debbie?”
He groaned. “Don’t ask.”
I hesitated. “How about you?”
“Me? I’m fabulous, sucking down hospital coffee and watching Mikey hold the Professor’s hand. I couldn’t be better.”
I heard the sound of traffic. “Where are you?”
“Out front using my cell phone. Wouldn’t want to accidentally disrupt someone’s brain transplant with an untimely call.”
“Okay, I’m just opening up now, call me when they take him to surgery, so I know.”
“Later.”
“Later.”
I didn’t hear anything more until 2, when Debbie called. She said they’d taken Ben in ten minutes before, and they were all going to get something to eat and then wait.
I closed up at 6, and still didn’t know anything. It had been pretty quiet all day in the store, probably because by lunchtime it had started sleeting again. I wished it would either snow or rain instead. But I processed almost seven hundred dollars of sales on eBay and the website.
I was just getting ready to drive over to the hospital when my phone rang.
“What’s going on?”
I heard Brian lighting a cigarette, but I ignored it. “He’s out of surgery, and Michael’s with him. They said only one person can be in there tonight, so I’m going to go by Kinnetik and pick something up, and then go home.”
I told him I’d see him there, and hung up.
It was almost 7:30 when I got home, because of the crappy weather, and there was no sign of Brian. By 9 I was getting pretty worried, but his cell was rolling straight to voice mail. I was sitting in the media room trying to watch TV, but there was nothing on. I went into the kitchen and made some eggs, and carried the plate over to the computer.
I set my plate down on a stack of papers on the desk, and it wobbled a little. I pushed the papers back and saw a box. It took me a minute to realize what it was, and that Brian must have gotten it out the day before, when he had the safe open.
I sat at the desk and opened the box, and looked at the rings. I wondered what Brian was doing with them. There were times I didn’t know what the fuck was going on in his mind.
I heard his car, and then the garage door opening and closing. I almost hid the rings back under the papers, but I decided that was stupid, and I just sat there.
When he came in, he went straight to the bar and poured a drink. He knocked back half of it, then looked at me. He lifted the bottle in his left hand and lifted his eyebrow. I shook my head, and he finished the rest of his drink.
And then he saw the rings in my hand. I put the box down and got up. I didn’t feel like talking to him about the rings right then.
“Any news?”
He shook his head. “They said it went fine, we probably won’t know anything more until tomorrow. Michael’s with him.” He poured another drink, then looked at me. “So, you were playing with our rings?”
I shrugged. “They were on the desk. Did you get them out yesterday when you had the safe open?”
He didn’t answer, just took his drink over to the window.
I thought, fuck this. I walked over to him, and ignored the “no trespassing” signs, and wrapped my arms around his waist. He felt tense for a minute, then relaxed. He turned all the way around and pulled me tightly against him, and kissed me.
Sometimes Brian just needed to fuck, and honestly, sometimes, so did I. I knew he was freaking out, I knew he’d rather swallow ground glass than talk about it, and I was tired of being okay with that.
I kissed him and let him tip my head back, his hands gripping my hair and his mouth moving against mine.
I heard his glass drop to the floor behind me, but I didn’t turn to see if it broke.
Brian’s POV
Justin was warm and easy in my arms. I dragged my lips down to his throat, then back up the side of his neck. I bit his ear lobe, and let my tongue flicker at his ear. He gave a little groan.
I slid my right hand inside his shirt, palm pressing against his stomach. I let my fingers brush just under the waistband of his jeans, and I felt him draw in a breath, pulling in his belly so my hand could slide inside. I cupped his cock through his underpants, feeling the wetness spreading through the rough cotton. He was rubbing himself against my hand, pushing hard on me, pressing my arm tight between our bodies.
I pulled my hand out, and reached around and gripped the backs of his thighs with both my hands. I was still kissing him, my tongue in his mouth, his head falling back. I bent my knees and lifted him up, pulling him into me. I walked him a few steps back, until his legs were against the sofa. I let his feet slide back down to the floor, and started to open his jeans and push him back. He stopped me.
“Come to bed.” His voice was husky.
I let my forehead touch his, and started to follow him out of the room. He was holding my hand, and he turned and smiled at me over his shoulder, and I felt a wave of restlessness hit me. I pulled on his hand and tugged his body back against mine again, kissing him hard. He pulled away, and put his hands on either side of my face, and looked at me.
I just stood there.
Justin tried again. “Come up with me.”
I shook my head, and walked back over and stared out the window. I half wanted him to come back and try to make me come to bed with him, and half thought if he did, I’d put my fist through the glass.
His hand was on my shoulder, and I almost jumped. “Brian….”
I didn’t say anything, and I heard him sigh. He brushed a kiss against my neck, and I felt my jaw tense.
I turned and looked at him. He had that patient look on his face.
“I’m going out.” That made his face change, but just for a second.
“Okay.” He said it slowly.
I looked at him for a minute. “I just need to go out.”
He nodded. “I said okay.” I started to say something, and he cut me off. “And yes, I know you don’t need my permission. Do whatever you want, Brian.”
I snorted. “You do very well as the understanding wife. You should be proud.”
He didn’t say anything, just stood there. I walked away from him, over to the desk, and then turned around.
“You know, Justin, it’s not cooking that makes you the wife, and it’s not getting fucked in the ass that makes you the wife. It’s not these fucking rings that make you the wife.” I brushed the open box off the desk, onto the floor. “It’s being understanding, that’s what makes you the wife.”
Justin had watched me swat the rings onto the floor, and his jaw tightened. “Stop it, Brian.”
I walked over to the bar and got a new glass, and filled it. I looked at him. “I guess you learned that from your mother. I’m sure Jennifer was always very understanding about Craig, too.”
Justin looked me right in the eye. “Do whatever you need to do, Brian. But get the fuck out of here.”
I stood there staring at him. He turned his back on me and went upstairs.
I waited a few more minutes for my heart to stop hammering, then I went into the hall and grabbed my jacket. I dug for the keys to my fucking rental car, but they weren’t there. The little asshole had taken them upstairs with him.
I pulled out my cell phone and called the car service, and used the time waiting for them to finish the rest of the bottle of scotch. By the time they got there, I was thinking just passing out on the sofa might be a good idea, but I got in the car and had him take me to Babylon. I walked into the club, and everyone looked surprised to see me. I realized I hadn’t been there without Justin since last December. Nearly a year.
I went up to the office, kicked the door shut, and locked it. I kept scotch in the office, and I grabbed the bottle, and sat down at the desk. I could feel the music through the walls and floor, and after a while the beat seemed soothing, almost like a heartbeat. I walked over to the sofa and lay down, the bottle open on the floor beside me. I stared at the overhead light, and thought about having the lighting in the office redesigned. It was too harsh. And then I closed my eyes.
Justin’s POV
I only stayed upstairs until I heard Brian slam out the front door. I went back down, and put his keys on the hall table, and went into the media room.
There was an empty bottle on the floor by the sofa, and the rings were where they’d fallen when Brian knocked them off the desk. I picked up the box and put it on the desk, then picked up the rings and closed them in my hand.
I walked over to the window, and looked out, thinking of all the nights in the year since I’d been home that Brian had stood there, staring out. The Christmas lights made shadows and reflections on the ground and the trees, and I let my forehead rest against the glass.
After a few minutes, I looked at the rings again. They were identical, platinum, wide and a little dull, but with a soft sheen in the light. The edges were curved, making them look old, even though they weren’t. Brian had picked them out, his just a little bigger than mine.
I put mine on, and then put his on my middle finger, and then pulled his off again and just held it in my hand.
It started to sleet again while I was looking out the window, and a gust of wind made the lights flicker. I pulled back from the glass and thought about what I wanted to do. I could sleep, I could try to paint. I couldn’t draw, my hand wasn’t up to it. I could fuck around on the computer, or go to bed and stare at the ceiling, and pathetically wonder where Brian was.
The lights flickered again, and I went into the living room. I put Brian’s ring in my pocket, and piled some logs in the fireplace. I pressed the gas starter and it roared to life, the logs catching right away. I went and sat down on the sofa. I wasn’t sure if it was more or less pathetic to sit in here or lie in bed, but at least this was something different.
I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them. The sleet had turned to hail and I could hear it pebbling on the glass roof of the hot tub room, and against the windows when the wind blew. The lights stayed on, though.
I sat on the sofa and listened to the hail and thought. I thought about New York, and all the nights I couldn’t sleep, missing him. I looked at the firelight on my ring, and the Christmas tree, and the wrapped presents under it. I remembered last year, and the look in Brian’s eyes when I walked in the kitchen door two days before Christmas. And I thought about him coming inside me, and me inside him, and the sound of his voice when he said my name.
I thought about him telling me he loved me, in the rain outside Babylon, in this room, in bed, when he came, his voice harsh and his hands gripping me so hard he left bruises. I thought about him telling me he’d bought this house, saying he was taking a chance on love.
On me.
I remembered the night before I left for New York, and the helpless way I loved him then. I remembered him lying behind me on the sofa, crying, telling me he’d thought I’d died after the prom, and how I thought that night I couldn’t love Brian more. Until I did.
I stood up and took Brian’s ring out of my pocket and put it on the coffee table, and put more logs on the fire. I pulled a blanket off one of the chairs and lay down on the sofa, and pulled it over me.
I never really went all the way to sleep, just slipped in and out of it, until I heard the car in the driveway, and sat up. I didn’t know where he’d go, if he’d go upstairs or look for me downstairs first. Depending on how drunk he was, he might not notice the tree lights were still on. He might not even come in.
But he did.
He came and stood next to the sofa, staring at me. His hair was sticking out all over the place, and his eyes were bloodshot and edged with red. His cheeks were red, from the cold, and his lower lip was chapped.
He folded his lips in, then out again, and stuck one hand behind his back. He pushed his other hand through his hair, and bit his lip. I almost laughed, but I was afraid it would make me cry, so I didn’t.
“Does this make you feel better, Justin?” His voice was quiet, but a little mocking, too. “The Christmas lights, the fire, the wedding rings?” He nodded at his ring, on the table.
I looked at him. “Yes.” I didn’t say anything else.
He sat down heavily on the sofa next to me, looking at his ring, and then at the fire. “I don’t understand that.”
“I know.”
He snorted. “God, I fucking hate it when you say that.”
I shrugged. “Get over it.”
He looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “Decided to try being a little less understanding?”
“Stop. Just stop.” I got up. I was absolutely not going to listen to this again.
Brian grabbed my left hand, and pulled me around to face him. “I’ll stop.”
I sat down and looked at him. “I don’t just mean now. This has to stop.”
He nodded. “I know.”
I laughed, and after a second, so did he, and pushed his hand through his hair again. He looked sideways at me, and bit his lip.
I took a deep breath. “Do you think it’s all romantic bullshit, Brian? The Christmas tree lights, and the wedding rings, and the fireplace?”
He shrugged but didn’t answer me.
“Because it’s all your romantic bullshit, Brian. You bought this house, you bought this fireplace, you bought the fucking firewood. You bought the Christmas tree, and the lights, and you bought these fucking rings. I never asked you for any of this. Never.”
He turned his head, and his eyes looked hurt, but I just stood up, and picked up his ring from the table. “You can tell me it’s all bullshit if you want. You can throw our rings on the floor and tell me to fuck off. Go ahead.” I started to pull my ring off, his still in my palm, and Brian grabbed my hand and stood up. He didn’t let go of my hand, just pulled it up and shoved my ring back down on my finger.
“Don’t.” He had his forehead pressed against mine, and his hand was clenching so hard on mine it hurt.
I felt tears burn in my eyes again. “Why, Brian? Why shouldn’t I? You did.”
He shook his head, and dug his ring out of my palm, and pushed it hard on the finger of his left hand. “Don’t.”
I closed my eyes, and he just pressed his forehead harder against me, and held our hands together tighter.
“Brian…”
“Justin, Justin, please… just…” and he kissed me, and I thought, sometimes there just aren’t words for everything. He broke his mouth away from mine, and let go of my hands, and brought his up to either side of my face, his fingers lacing into my hair. He kissed my forehead, and then my hair, and looked at me. “I love you.”
He pulled me down on the sofa, and I crawled up onto him and pushed him against the arm, and kissed him. And we didn’t fuck, or talk. We just sat there in front of the fireplace, with the bullshit romantic fire and Christmas tree lights, and our wedding rings, and held onto each other until we fell asleep.
Continued here....
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Page 3 of 4