This is the sixth and final chapter of Risks, the fourth story in my series that begain with Plans, Decisions, and Desires. The previous chapters are here. There will be a sequel to Risks, called Families. You can preview its banner here, if that kind of thing makes you happy.

Beta'd by the completely astonishing and quite possibly bionically enhanced gmta_nz . Banner and icon by roc_abs, who indulges my obsessions so sweetly. Commas inserted, not at all randomly, by vlredreign . Chinese herbal medicine and TLC by intensefemme. Creative impulses both challenged and nurtured by vamphile and _alicesprings.

Extra speshul thanks to the intrepid happier_bunny, who has a way with Rage.




Risks, Chapter 6
By Xie

“We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that, deep inside us, something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.” -E. E. Cummings

Brian’s POV

I woke up on the sofa with Justin lying against me, sleeping. My whole body ached, and my head was pounding.

I shifted a little, and he woke up and tried to stretch.

He groaned a little. “I thought we weren’t going to do this anymore.”

“Sleep on the couch when we have eight bedrooms?”

He looked at me. “That too.”

I stood up and felt my back complain. “Fuck, how do lesbians do this?”

Justin stood up, and looked at me. “Do what?”

“Relationships. Fights. Sleeping on the couch.” I ran my hand through my hair, and thought I probably shouldn’t lift my arm again until I’d had a shower.

Justin walked over to the fireplace, where the gas was still burning even though the firewood was long gone. He leaned down and pushed the starter, and the fire went out. He stayed at the fireplace, but turned and faced me. “Are you going to freak out now?”

Great, just what I needed, another discussion. “I thought I did that last night.”

He gave a short jerk of his head, and walked over to the window.

I stared at his back, thinking about what to say. “Justin.”

He didn’t turn around.

I took a breath. “I’m exhausted. I stink. I’m probably still drunk. I need a shower and ten more hours of sleep.”

He just kept staring out the window. I walked over to him, put my hands on his shoulders, and turned him around. “I’m not going to freak out over the rings. I’m the one who bought the fucking things in the first place. Now, I need to go take a shower and get some sleep. Come upstairs with me.” Which should have sounded familiar to him, as that was the line that started the whole fight in the first place.

Or whatever it was.

He looked at my face for a long time. “I don’t feel like sleeping right now. You go, I’m going to make some coffee and work for a little while.”

I felt my lips turn in, but I nodded. “Okay.” Then I pulled him into my arms, which I think surprised him.

He wrinkled his nose. “God, you really do stink.”

I laughed. “I’ve smelled worse.”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure you have.”

I waited for him to laugh or smile, but he didn’t. Asshole.

“Brian?”

I looked at him, and raised an eyebrow, which made my head hurt. I lowered it.

“Brian, we just talked about our relationship.” Then he smiled. Like I said, asshole.

I lifted my arms a little higher and pulled him closer. “And now you want to fuck me.”

“Well, not now. But after you shower.”

He was leaning against me, and my body, probably to punish me for poisoning it so thoroughly the night before, betrayed me by letting my cock jerk against his thigh.

I looked at him for a minute, daring him to say something, but he just kept the innocent expression in place.

Let me repeat: Asshole.

He finally sighed, and pulled away. “Seriously. Go shower and get some sleep. I’ll come up later.”

I went up, and stood under the hot water, letting the stinking, booze-saturated sweat run out of my body. I washed my hair three times before it felt clean. And I still smelled stale scotch on the towel after I dried myself.

I crawled into bed and pulled the duvet over my shoulders, and then got back up again and went into the bathroom and drank water from the tap.

When I came back into the bedroom, I was half-tempted to get dressed and go downstairs, but I could just barely hear music from his studio, and I decided to try to sleep, after all. 

And when I woke up, I thought, another shower.

Justin’s POV

I worked on the computer for a couple of hours, and then decided to try some hand shading. While the panels were printing, I went into the kitchen and aimlessly looked around for something to eat. I opened a cupboard and saw the little packages of herbs from my acupuncturist. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d used them.

I pulled one down and put the water on to boil, made some scrambled eggs, and warmed up the cold coffee in the microwave. I chased the herbal tea with my lunch, even though nothing ever really took the taste out of my mouth.

I tried Michael, and was surprised when he answered his cell.

“Hi. I thought they made you keep your cell phone off at the hospital.”

I heard Michael thank someone. “They do. I’m in the cafeteria, getting coffee.”

“How’s Ben?”

Michael sounded happy. “Really well. They said he’s recovering amazingly fast, and they’re talking about moving him into a regular room tonight. Which would be great, because in the post-surgical rooms, you can only have one visitor at a time, and the chair barely fits next to the bed. My back feels like I had surgery.”

“Tell Hunter I can cover at the store anytime, if he wants to visit Ben.”

“Thanks, Justin.” His voice was soft and I smiled a little. “He’s closing up at 4 today anyway, this weather has everything but Internet sales pretty much shut down, and he can do those from home. But I’ll tell him. My mom’s on her way, and then I’m going to go home and get some sleep. And thanks. Like I said.”

I said goodbye, and went back into my studio with my coffee. I spread the Rage panels out on my worktable. I thought about how much freehand work I needed to do, and decided I’d try drawing for half-hour stretches, to see if I could get it all done in one day.

I was shading the side of Rage’s face, in a scene where he thinks JT, who has been drained of all his powers trying to help Rage fight off an army of attackers, is dying. I looked at the image for a minute, wondering what had ever made me think turning all the worst things that had ever happened in our lives into a comic book was a good idea.

I put down the pen and walked over to my easel. I’d started a painting a few days before, although all I’d gotten done was the background. It was a strange shade of warm gray, a tone I’d never worked with before. My grays were always blue-based. I looked at my paints, and thought about getting them out, but as quickly as the impulse raced down my arm from my brain, I felt it evaporate. I touched the thick dried paint on the canvas, and went back to drawing.

Three hours later, I felt my hand cramp, hard. I let the pen drop, and realized my hand had been aching and tremoring for a while, but I’d been ignoring it. I sat there, rubbing it with my left hand, feeling pissed at myself.

I heard a sound at the door, and looked up. It was Brian, his hair sticking out all over the place, wearing a soft, faded pair of jeans, a white t-shirt, and bare feet.

He came over and sat down next to me, and I let him take my hand and start to rub it. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to, but considering I’d just put his fucking wedding ring on early that morning, I thought it was a little late to ask for my hand back.

I looked at him, and he was smirking. Brian wasn’t the only one who could lift an eyebrow.

He glanced at me. “I was just thinking about giving you a short lecture on your self-care issues, but decided to wait until I’d recovered from alcohol poisoning.”

I snorted. Then I thought, fuck it, and relaxed against the back of the chair, closed my eyes, and let him rub my hand.

“I talked to Deb, she said Ben’s doing better, they’re moving him to a regular room.”

I opened my eyes. “I talked to Michael a few hours ago. He was going home to get some sleep.”

Brian’s hand kept moving on mine, and he started prodding at the base of my thumb. I felt myself relax a little more, and realized my neck hurt, and so did my shoulders. I rotated my head, and then sighed.

Brian held my hand for a second, then let it go. He stood up. “I’m going to the hospital for a little while. Can you come with me? Or did you want to get some sleep?”

I thought about it for a minute, and stood up. “Sleep. Tell them I’ll come by tomorrow.”

I left everything spread out on the table and headed upstairs and got in the shower. The hot water felt good on my neck and back, and I held my hand under it for a long time, watching the tiny tremors stop, and finally feeling the muscles relax.

I rinsed my hair and turned off the water, and dried myself off. Brian had stripped the bed and put on clean sheets, and left the dirty ones in a pile in the corner of the bedroom.

I curled up on the clean sheets, pulled the duvet up around my ears, and dropped instantly into a deep sleep.

I woke up just as suddenly. It was dark out, and the house was completely quiet. I got up and pissed, then stood at the top of the stairs. There was a faint light in the hall. I went down, and found Brian sitting at his computer.

He looked up and smiled at me. He looked tired.

“How come you didn’t wake me up?” I walked over, and let myself lean on him a little, my hand on the back of his neck.

He brought his arms up and wrapped them around my waist, and put his face on my stomach. We’d never been very good at keeping our hands off each other for any length of time. Even when you could almost see the anger like red electricity between us, even when I thought if he touched me it would break my heart, we always ended up like this.

“You were tired.”

I sighed, and touched his hair with my hand. “How was Ben?”

“Asleep.”

“Did Michael get some sleep?”

I felt him nod against me, and then he pulled me down on his lap, hard. I wasn’t much for sitting on Brian’s lap unless he had his dick up my ass, but he held me tightly around the waist, and after a minute, I just let go and sat there, my chin on his head.

I wasn’t planning on saying anything. I didn’t know how long I’d been asleep, I didn’t even know what time it was, but I wasn’t sure I was up to deciding what to have for dinner, let alone talking to Brian about what had happened. So when I heard my voice telling Brian we needed to talk, I was more surprised than he was.

Brian just sighed. “I know.”

I stood up. “You told me once, whatever we were, we weren’t my parents.”

He gave a short, bitter laugh. “And not dykes in matching Vera Wangs. I remember.”

I decided not to mention the general lesbianic-ness of my sitting on his lap a few minutes before. “So, we’re not my parents. Or your parents.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time, and when I looked at him, I couldn’t read his face.

I folded my lips in, and tried again. “Brian…”

He got up and started to walk towards the bar, then stopped. I guess his liver objected. He turned and looked at me, one hand behind his back. 

He raked his other hand through his hair. “God, Justin, just fuck me and let’s get it over with.”

I had to laugh, even if it probably didn’t sound very happy. “Fuck you, Brian.”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

“Fucking isn’t always the answer.”

He just gave me a skeptical look.

I went and sat down on the sofa, where I couldn’t see him.

I heard him sigh. “Fine. We’re revising our prenuptial agreement. I gave up on the blowjobs on demand, you conceded on the driving in Manhattan, and we’re wearing the fucking rings. Anything else, or can we fuck now?”

I took a deep breath.  “I think we need to add a section about you not lashing out at me when you feel cornered.”

I made myself not look at him, but he didn’t say anything for a long time. I finally turned my head around, and he was just standing there. I was too tired to really get angry, but I felt a little rush of it, down deep.

I got up and started to leave the room. I felt everything just kind of crash in on me, and I was fucked if I was going to let him see me cry again. I was done.

But he followed me out of the room, and he reached out and grabbed my left wrist. I stopped, but didn’t turn around.

“God, Justin, do I get one minute to answer?”

I just shrugged. I was pretty sure I couldn’t talk. I didn’t feel like I had anything to say, beyond what I’d already said. I thought, it’s always going to be like this with him, he’s always going to be a little feral.

And then I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, and his mouth on my hair, and then on the back of my neck, and I turned around inside his arms and kissed him.

I told Brian fucking wasn’t always the answer, and it’s not. But that night, that moment, it was. I didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t know how, but I knew from his hands, and his mouth, and the press of his cock into my stomach, what Brian was telling me.

I told myself a long time ago, when I was leaving Brian for someone and something else, that I’d just imagined it. That I didn’t really hear the things he said without talking, those nights at the loft, under that blue light, his hands tracing down my spine, his fingers feathering over my thighs, his mouth hesitating before he kissed me.

But I did. I always had. And I did that night, too. I let Brian tell me what he wanted to tell me, the way he could tell me: That he loved me, that he was sorry, that he wanted me. I heard every word. I took him upstairs, and lay under him, and let him fill me with his tongue and his cock and his come, and curved myself up under him, so I could kiss him while I came.

I fell asleep with him inside me. I woke up with his leg thrown over mine, and his breath in my face. And I knew what he meant by that, too.

Brian’s POV

Justin and I were careful with each other the rest of the weekend. We went and visited Ben at the hospital on Sunday. I must have looked worse than I thought, because even though Michael was mostly focused on Ben, I saw his face react when he saw mine. He didn’t ask me about it, though.

I was almost relieved to go into the office on Monday, but I’d forgotten the accountant from hell missed nothing, absolutely nothing, and decided the ring on my left hand was an appropriate subject for humor in the workplace. Or what he considered humor.

Ted was sitting on the sofa in my office reviewing costs on the architect’s proposal for the space next door. I was half listening and half checking my email.

“So, where are you and Justin going on your honeymoon?”

I looked up. “Why are you still here?”

He looked blank.

“Didn’t I fire you an hour ago, the last time you brought that up? Why are you here?”

He smiled. “To make your life a living hell. Oh, and keep your company from going awash on the rocks of insolvency.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sure I could manage to find some other poor schmuck of an accountant who could balance the books without making inappropriate personal comments on my private life.”

He sat back. “One who’d be willing to put up with you? You might be surprised. You could end up going through accountants like you go through art directors.”

I stood up and got a bottle of water. I was still giving my liver a little rest. I faced Ted while I took a drink, then set the bottle down on my desk. “I’m a bad boss. I’m a bad son, a bad brother, a bad friend, and will undoubtedly make Justin a bad whatever I am. Now, can we get back to work with that understanding, or are you going to continue tormenting me?”

Ted looked at me thoughtfully, an expression of his that I’d grown to hate and fear. “You know, Brian, I’ve only met them a few times, but your mother and sister are cunts. You’re the best boss I’ve ever had, a not entirely shitty friend, and for whatever reason, Justin and Michael appear completely impervious to your efforts to excise them from your life the way you’ve done with your mother and sister. Who are, let me repeat, cunts.”

I picked up the bottle and drank some more water.

Ted decided silence was permission to say more. I made a mental note to not make that same mistake again. “And to quote Emmett, at least his words, I doubt I could do the hand gestures justice, your real family is the one you choose, not the one you’re born into. And he should know.”

He stood up. I thought about firing him again, but he cut me off.

“I know, I’m fired.” He picked up his laptop and the architect’s proposal, and went to the door. “See you in the morning.”

I considered going down to the art department and taking it out on them, but remembered I’d promised Cynthia not to go down there at all this week. I made a note to fire her the next time I saw her.

My cell phone rang, and I felt my gut tighten when I saw it was the auto repair shop. But somewhat amazingly, given the overall shitty state of the world, they were calling to tell me that my Corvette was ready.

I decided to give Ted and Cynthia one more chance.

Justin’s POV

I wasn’t in Red Cape ten minutes before Brian called me on the business line. Michael handed me the phone with a smirk.

“They invented these things called cell phones, you should get one someday.”

I checked my pocket. “Sorry, it was off.”

“That’s convenient.”

“What’s up?” I dropped my case and bag on the floor, and leaned on the counter.

“My Corvette’s ready.”

I laughed. “Thank god, I know how lonely you’ve been without it.”

“My Corvette doesn’t make fun of how I feel about you.”

I shook my head, still laughing. “Later.”

“Later.”

I reached across the counter to hang up the phone, and before I could pull my hand back, Michael laid his hand over it.

“Justin?”

I looked at him, confused. “Yeah?”

He tapped my ring. “You’re wearing a wedding ring.”

I blushed a little. “Yeah.”

Michael laughed. “Didn’t you stand here in this store and tell me it would take having Brian genetically altered in a terrible nuclear disaster for that to happen?”

I shook my hair back out of my eyes and shrugged. “And this won’t be the first time I’ve stood in this store and admitted you were right and I was wrong about something like that.”

He grinned. “Life really does imitate art. Maybe we’d better think our storylines through more carefully from now on.”

I laughed and set the case with the panels down on the counter. “This should be the final version, except for the cover. We had them on the wall last time, so we need something different, and I wasn’t sure which way to go without giving away too much story.”

Michael was turning the pages and nodding while I talked. “I guess this one is out of the question?” He was pointing to a panel of Zephyr in Professor Ken Kurschner’s arms.

I laughed. “Sure, if you don’t want to sell any comics this time.”

He smiled, and kept turning pages. “Something like this is good, lots of drama.” It was Rage behind the Governor, JT to his left, the Governor in the lower left hand corner of the page.

I nodded, and made a note. We kept looking through it, and finally got to the end. Neither one of us was really happy with anything yet.

I dug my sketchbook out of my bag, and a pen. I sat down cross-legged on the floor. “How about… something with Rage and JT in the middle, right after Rage takes the risk of letting his mind control powers drop….”

Michael sat down next to me, and looked at what I was drawing.

“And then…” I sketched rapidly, just the outlines. “A whole circle of small panels around them, with scenes from the issue. The zombies, the one with the Governor we both liked, even the one of Zephyr and Ken.”

I kept drawing, so he’d see the general idea, and then glanced at him. He was smiling.

We talked about which scenes to use in the small panels, and I sketched a few versions. He made one coffee run while I drew, but finally he stopped me. “Don’t think I don’t see your hand shaking.”

I picked up my coffee in my left hand, took a sip, and shrugged. “We’re done anyway, right? I’ll draw this up, and hopefully we can have a final version before I go to New York.”

Michael nodded, and started putting the panels in their case, and then put the case in the back room. I finished my coffee.

“How’s Ben?”

Michael shut the back room door and went behind the counter. “He’s great, no one can believe he’s doing this well. They’re actually talking about starting the new drugs at the end of January.”

I helped Michael lock up, and headed to my car. If Brian was picking his Corvette up after work, I wasn’t sure if he’d be home late or not. I stopped at Whole Foods and got overpriced gourmet takeout.

When I got home, Brian wasn’t there yet. I ate at the kitchen table, then went into my studio to work on the cover for Rage.

Brian’s POV

I heard music in the studio when I got home, and went upstairs to change. Justin must not have been too involved in work, though, because he came into the bedroom right behind me. I could see his hand was fucked. I didn’t mention it.

“So, did Rage get them down off that fucking wall yet?”

Justin laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I walked to the closet door and took off my jacket, and hung it up. “Actually, yes. Did he?”

I turned around, and he was looking at me, almost smirking. I lifted an eyebrow.

Justin relented. “Yes, they’re down off the wall.”

I turned back to the closet, pulled off my tie and started to unfasten my shirt. “I suppose you had JT save him this time?” I didn’t look at him.

He didn’t answer right away. “No, JT’s unconscious, remember?”

I didn’t turn around. “So, what happens?”

He came up behind me, and put his hands on my bare shoulders, and then slid them down and started unfastening my belt from behind me. “Don’t worry, Rage, you save JT. And Zephyr. And all of Gayopolis.”

I smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. He had pushed my pants down and was holding my balls in one hand, and my dick in the other. I tipped my head back, and just let him slowly get me hard. I felt his breath on my back.

He took his hands away, and I turned around. I pulled him close to me, holding him with one arm around his back, under his arms, and the other shoving his sweatpants down. He pulled them off, kicking his shoes away, and then we broke our kiss long enough to pull his sweater off over his head. I stepped out of my pants and shoes, and walked him backwards to the bed.

Justin sat down, and then scooted backwards until his head was on the pillow, and I was lying between his thighs. His legs wrapped around me, and I kissed him. First his mouth, then his jaw, and then his neck. I could feel the pulse in his throat pounding under my tongue.

I ran my hand up Justin’s arm and cupped it behind his neck. I kissed along his jaw, and put my mouth at his ear. “I want to tie you up.”
 
His breathing changed when I said it, and I could feel the heat in his cheek, pressed against mine.
 
He didn’t say anything for a minute. “Okay.” He barely breathed it.
 
I pressed gently on his shoulder and he lay face down on the bed. I sat there next to him, and he turned his face towards me, and slowly put one hand, then the other, up near the edge of the bed.
 
I knelt up and opened the cabinet on the nightstand, and pulled out two black silk ties. Justin blinked when I set them on the bed in front of his face.
 
I leaned over him, and kissed his arm from his shoulder to his wrist, lingering with my tongue over his pulse before I slipped the tie around the bed frame, and then twined it around his wrist, and then fastened it. I straddled him and did the same on the other side, kissing his arm and then binding his wrist to the bed. His cheeks were blotched with red, and his eyes were half-closed.
 
I kissed down his back, tracing his spine with my tongue, kneading his ass with my hands, pressing his thighs together with my knees. Then I slowly leaned over and pulled one more tie out of the cabinet, and laid it on the bed, where he could see it.
 
I saw him swallow, and then lick his lips. He blinked, slowly, and then looked at me. I just looked back, waiting.
 
After a minute he very slightly lifted his head off the bed, and parted his lips just enough for me to slip the silk tie between them. I tied it behind his head, and looked at the black fabric running across his pale skin and blond hair, and holding his lips apart. I leaned down over his face and licked first his top lip, and then the bottom, nibbling at it, and then traced the tie with my tongue, too. He was breathing hard and I heard a moan in his throat.
 
I sat back on my heels and looked at him. He was rocking his hips into the mattress, and I stopped him with my hand on the small of his back. I pressed gently and he let me shift him up onto his knees, his ass in the air. I moved my legs so they were between his, and used my knees to spread him wider. His cock and balls were hanging heavy under him, and I slid my hand down and let my palm run lightly the length of him, and my thumb sweep across the leaking head.
 
Justin had his head turned and was looking back at me, and I kept my eyes locked on his and sat back again. I slowly started to stroke my cock. I saw him swallow, and he watched me, not even blinking. He was breathing fast.
 
My stomach clenched hard when I looked at him, his arms stretched out, the black ties wrapped around his wrists. His hair had fallen across his eyes. I started to move my hand faster on my dick. I saw the exact moment he knew what I was going to do, and he tightened his hands on the ties holding him to the bed frame.
 
I kept looking at him, even when I wanted to throw my head back and close my eyes. I pulled hard one last time on my cock and let myself shoot streams of come across Justin’s back and ass. He was whimpering behind the gag, and I felt a groan wrenched out of me, too. I lay across his back, holding my weight on my left arm and dragging my right hand through my come where it was pooling on his back, and down the crack of his ass. I put a wet finger at his hole, and pushed it in. He opened up to me and then clamped down on my finger, and I waited for him to relax again, and shoved my finger in deeper.
 
Justin moaned again, and I pulled my finger out and slapped him across the ass. I saw a jolt of surprise run through him, and he pulled his ass away, then arched it back towards my hand. I slapped him again, hard, right across the come-smeared red mark on his ass cheek, and he moaned. I told him, “Quiet,” and he turned his head and pressed his face into the mattress.
 
I reached up and firmly turned his head back, and told him to open his eyes. He took in a shuddering breath through his nose, and nodded. I bent down and kissed his neck, and started licking my come off his back, and then sat back up and smacked his ass again, this time on the other side. He didn’t make a sound, and he didn’t move.
 
I shifted over to the left side of him, and he watched me. I got a dildo out of the drawer and he just looked at it, then back at me. I smiled, and brought it up to my mouth and licked it, then wrapped my lips around it, and took it as deep into my throat as I could, breathing through my nose as I slowly slid it in, then back out.
 
Justin’s eyes were dark and glassy, and he followed my hand as I moved the dildo to his back, rolling it in the come that still laced across his skin. Then I took the lube out of the drawer and let him watch me drizzle it all over the dildo, and spread it with my fist. He was just staring at me, his ass arched high, his cock hard, and dripping on the bed.
 
I climbed back over him and knelt between his spread legs, and cupped his full balls in the palm of my lubed right hand, and then slid it forward to stroke his cock with a feather touch. He made a strangled noise in his throat, and I pulled my hand back and slapped the inside of his thigh. He jerked away from me, then moved back, his ass straining towards me.
 
I held his cheeks apart with one hand, and pressed the head of the dildo against his hole with the other. I slowly rotated it and pushed, feeling Justin bearing down and letting it in at the same time. I moved it in, inch by inch, angling it away from his prostate until it was almost all the way in. He was hardly breathing, just watching me over his shoulder, his eyes dark.
 
I started fucking him with it, and let my other hand move back to his cock, this time feathering my fingers over it, too lightly to get him off, and flicking my thumb over the head, smearing his pre-come. His cock was so hard I knew he was close to coming, and I angled the dildo to stroke across his prostate.

Sweat had broken out on his forehead and neck, and in a light sheen across his back and shoulders. I prodded at his prostate with the head of the dildo, and saw his balls pull up, and right at that moment I flipped the switch on the dildo. The vibrations started just as I pressed it hard against his prostate, and he almost screamed behind the gag. He started to come, shooting all over his chest and belly, and the bed underneath him.
 
He came hard, and I could tell when it was too much, and turned off the vibrator and gently moved it out of him. He collapsed onto the bed, and I unfastened the gag and kissed him the minute I pulled it away from his face. He lifted his head and kissed me back. I pulled away to untie his wrists, and he turned over and curled into me, while I rubbed his shoulders and kissed him again.
 
He wrapped his arms around my neck, and his legs around me, and kissed me, then burrowed his head into me. I held him, stroking his hair.
 
Justin’s POV

The day before we were leaving for New York, I went out and picked up some herbs in capsules from my acupuncturist, so I could take them in New York without having to make the tea. I also did some last-minute Christmas shopping. I suppose it’s insane to shop in Pittsburgh the day before you leave for New York, but I was too nervous about the show to think about shopping there. On the way home, I stopped at Whole Foods and got a few things for dinner.

Brian was in the kitchen when I came in the door from the garage. I carried the grocery bag to the counter, and kissed him as I passed. His face felt warm against mine.

I set the grocery bag down on the counter, and shrugged out of my jacket. Brian took a swallow of his beer, and watched me putting the groceries away.

He smirked at me over his beer bottle when I put ice cream in the freezer. Full fat ice cream.

I smirked back. “So, did you notice the neighbor’s inflatable Santa’s sleigh is deflating just like Frosty did last year?”

He nodded. “Well, that’s what they get for shopping at the big Q.”

I shook my head. “That thing is from Hammacher Schlemmer and it costs nine hundred dollars.”

He stared at me. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“My mom. I had lunch with her today. She was out here showing a house and she saw it, and mentioned it to me.”

“How is dear old mom?” He finished his beer and tossed the bottle into the recycling bin.

“She’s a little pissed.”

He raised an eyebrow. “About….”

I held up my left hand. “She wanted to know if we eloped.”

He laughed. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her it was a small, private ceremony, just you and me.”

“What did she say to that?”

“Not to expect a gift.” I grinned at him.

He nodded. “I really like your mother.”

“You know, she really likes you, too.”

He walked over to me and put his arms over my shoulders, and touched his forehead to mine for a second. “What’s not to like? Any mother would be thrilled to have me marry her only son.”

I snorted. “Skipping over the early years.”

He kissed me. “Of course. I always skip those when I’m talking to your mom, otherwise it’s just too weird.”

I went back to putting my stuff away.

Brian got another beer out of the refrigerator. “So, did you finish Rage?”

I nodded. “All ready to go to the printer. I dropped the final drawing for the cover at Red Cape this afternoon. Only a month late.”

He frowned. “You always said the first deadline wasn’t realistic.”

“I know.” I finished putting everything away, and got myself a beer.

“So now that it’s all done… are you going to tell me what happens?”

“I told you. Rage saves JT, Zephyr, and Gayopolis.”

“Yes, but how?”

I laughed. “God, you’re worse than Gus. Hang on.”

I went into the studio and came back with my laptop. I sat down at the kitchen table, turned it on, and opened my graphics program. I pushed it around to face him. “Knock yourself out.”

Brian sat down and started reading, scrolling through the pages with his finger on the touchpad.

I pretended to drink my beer, but watched his face the whole time. He only looked up once, then went back to the screen when he saw me watching him.

When he was done, which didn’t take long, he sat back in the chair and looked at me. He’d finished his beer, and he reached across and grabbed mine, and took a long swallow. “That was intense. I’d even say, that was art and literature and sheer genius, if I wasn’t fairly sure you’d just smirk and say you knew that already.”

I felt my face break into a smile. I couldn’t help it. “It’s alright.”

Brian laughed. “Asshole.”

“I learned from the master.”

He scrolled aimlessly through the panels. “This is all highly metaphorical, isn’t it? Michael must be very proud.”

“It’s a comic book.”

He snorted. “Rage has to risk losing everything, even his own life, and JT and Zephyr’s lives, on a hunch.”

“It’s more than a hunch, he’d seen the zombies fall when his mind control faltered for a minute. He knew that his mind control energy must have been what was powering the reanimation. He was operating on a deeper, super-hero level of intuition.”

“A hunch.”

“Whatever. It worked.” I took my beer back, but the bottle was empty.

“And his previously-vanquished enemies, they’re all permanently dead now, right?”

I laughed and got up to get another beer. “I promise.”

We left for New York early the next morning. We were flying instead of driving, since we decided our relationship had already had enough stress for the month. When we checked into the hotel, we found we’d been upgraded to a penthouse suite, with a terrace and the hotel’s usual great view. Unfortunately it was December, and the terrace was covered with snow. But it was very seasonal.

We went out to dinner and a couple of clubs, and the next morning Brian went shopping. I went with him, even though shopping with Brian tended to exhaust me, because I was too nervous to think of anything else to do.

We were meeting my new agent in the bar right before the opening, and we’d gone back to the room to get ready. Brian got a call just as we were heading down, so I told him I’d see him in the bar. Virginia was already there, and she smiled when I joined her.

“I stopped by the gallery on my way here. It looks wonderful, Justin.”

I smiled back. “I thought so, too. I went by this morning.” I knew I sounded nervous.

“That’s not all. I spoke to Armand when I was there.”

I waited. My throat felt dry.

“Justin. Everything of yours has already sold.”

I just stared at her. Brian had bought the Kinnetik series before the show, but that meant eight other pieces had sold. Before the show even opened.

“I’m sorry I was delayed.” It was Brian, his hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him, and he was at his most polished and perfect, in a suit such a dark brown it looked black, and a deep red shirt.

“Virginia, this is my partner, Brian Kinney. Brian, this is Virginia Marshall.”

They shook hands, undoubtedly identifying the designers of each other’s clothes and shoes in their heads. I just sat there, still stunned.

We ordered, and Virginia raised an eyebrow at me. I cleared my throat. “Virginia went by the gallery, and Armand told her all my work sold.”

Brian put down his drink and looked at Virginia, who nodded. “Everything. Armand is ecstatic. And hates me.”

Brian smiled. “Good. If the gallery owners don’t hate you, you aren’t doing your job.”

Brian’s POV

Justin was sitting there, looking stunned, so I chatted with Virginia for a while about the New York art scene. She surprised me a little. He’d said she was the first agent who he felt understood what he was doing with his work, and I’d expected someone a little edgy, almost an older, more established version of Kalli.

Instead, she was probably in her late 60s, maybe older, with sleek, short silver hair, dressed in merlot Armani from head to toe.

Justin snapped out of his shock after a few minutes, and he and Virginia talked about what collectors had bought his work. I recognized a few of the names as being particularly prominent collectors, and hid my smile while I swallowed my drink.

“Would you like another, or should we go?”

Virginia looked at me, and smiled. “I think we should go. I want Justin to meet a number of people, so it’s important he be there from the beginning.”

We got into the car, and I told the driver to take us to Armand’s gallery in Chelsea.

Justin looked at Virginia. “Will there be press?”

She shrugged. “Probably, but not definitely. Emerging artist shows can be hot stories, or totally ignored, usually depending more on what else is happening in the scene that month than the quality of the work.”

He nodded, biting his lip. I let my fingers brush across the back of his hand where it lay on the seat between us. He turned his hand over, and entwined his fingers with mine.

Virginia glanced at him. “Just be yourself, focus on the work, and if they ask about Rage or how young you are, you know what to say.”

Justin nodded, and I squeezed his hand a little.

We got there a few minutes before the show opened, and Kalli was standing in the middle of the room, staring up at the high ceiling. She grinned at Justin when he came in, and gave him a hug.

“Did you hear? You sold out.”

Justin nodded, and hugged her back. “Virginia told me. I can’t believe it.”

I went to the bar and got a glass of wine while the three of them wandered around, and after a few more minutes, the show opened. Virginia unobtrusively steered Justin to the people she wanted him to meet, and before half an hour had passed, Justin didn’t look nervous anymore.

I was leaning on the end of the bar, watching him gesture at another artist’s work while talking to a couple Virginia had introduced to him, when I heard a familiar voice. “Brian, I somehow thought you’d be here.” It was Richard Bohling.

Richard got a glass of wine from the bartender, and leaned on the bar next to me. “I got an invitation from Armand, and decided to stop by. It’s going well, it seems.”

I nodded. “Justin’s pleased.”

“Which is his work?”

I took him to the back of the gallery, and smiled to myself when the fact that Justin’s work had the prime space in the show registered with Richard. And again, when he noticed that every piece had a small tag on its card, indicating it was sold.

He stopped in front of the one Justin had called “Night,” that wasn’t for sale. Armand had asked for twelve pieces for the show, and this was the thirteenth. Kalli and I both convinced Justin it should be shown as from the artist’s collection.

“Jesus.”

I took a sip of wine, and signaled to a passing waiter to replace my glass. “I know. I feel that way a lot.”

He took another glass, too. “I’ll be honest, Brian, I couldn’t believe it when you brought him to dinner that time. I would never have imagined you with someone like Justin.”

I didn’t say anything.

Richard went on. “I know he’s older than he looks, but I thought he was about eighteen. I know I pissed him off when I asked him his age, but he must get asked that a lot.”

I just raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“Then I look at something like this…”

I turned back to the painting. “I know.”

I hadn’t talked to Justin since Virginia swept him off, but he suddenly appeared next to us. He was a little flushed, and he was smiling.

He took a sip of my wine and handed the glass back. “Hi, Richard, it was nice of you to come.”

They shook hands, and Richard nodded at the paintings in front of us. “I’d read the article about you in Art Forum, so I had high expectations, but I don’t even know what to say about your work tonight, Justin. It’s breathtaking.”

“Thank you.” Justin looked even happier.

Virginia reclaimed him, and Richard joined other friends, and I went back and watched from the bar.

I was starting on my third glass of wine, without question a record of moderation for me, even at art openings, when Armand joined me. “Quite a success for Justin.”

I raised my glass. “And for you.”

Armand gave a dry smile. “And for me. Although now that Virginia has gotten him into her clutches, I suspect my access to Justin’s work will be somewhat reduced.”

I thought about that for a minute. “Justin won’t forget you gave him his start.”

Armand nodded. “I liked his work from the beginning, but what he’s doing now? I’ve never seen an artist progress this much in one year. Never. The maturity and completeness of this work is beyond anything I expected, even given how impressed I was with the early pieces.”

“Kalli said the same thing, but…”

He laughed. “I know. It’s just as with Justin, their youth is an obstacle to believing in their abilities. But she’s also like Justin in that working with her, I’ve completely forgotten her age. She has extraordinary instincts.” He took a glass of wine off the bar, and sipped it. “And Justin has an extraordinary talent, and something most artists his age don’t have, the opportunity to devote himself to it full time.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I bit back a caustic reply that I wasn’t keeping Justin, and just smiled.

When the show was over, Justin came and slid an arm around my waist. I draped my arm over his shoulder, and left with Virginia and Kalli to have a celebratory dinner. After we ate, Virginia told us goodnight. The three of us met some of Kalli’s friends at Richard’s club. He’d left my name at the door, and they were all suitably impressed when the doorman waved us in.

I was talking with Richard in the VIP room, when Kalli sat down at our table. She smiled radiantly at me. “He’s flying. In a strictly non-pharmaceutical sense.”

Richard laughed. “He should be.”

I took a sip of scotch and didn’t say anything. 

A waitress appeared and Kalli ordered a drink. “I was surprised to hear he’d signed with Virginia. She’s pretty much the top of the food chain.”

“Adrienne Bennett introduced them.”

Kalli nodded. “Although I’m not sure Virginia would even represent Adrienne.”

Justin dropped into the seat next to me, and put his hand on my thigh. “I just ran completely out of energy.”

I laughed. “I hope not completely.”

He smiled at me, looking a little evil. I put my drink down and stood up. “Kalli, can we drop you anywhere?”

She glanced at Richard, and shook her head. “Unless Richard’s going to kick us out once you leave, I’d rather hang out for a while.”

Richard laughed, and walked outside with Justin and me. I’d sent the car back to the hotel, and we got a cab. I wasn’t sure what Justin’s mood was. He seemed a little quieter than I’d have expected, but his eyes were sparkling and he was holding my hand.

I shifted myself a little, to see what he’d do, and he slid into the opening I’d created, his body warm against my side. I kissed his hair and smiled.

I went and took a shower, and when I came out, a towel around my waist, Justin was outside on the terrace, looking at the skyline. I stood inside, watching him through the glass, looking at the tall buildings, some of them edged with holiday lights, some just dotted with the random lit windows of Manhattan office buildings.

He turned around and saw me watching him, and laughed and came back inside. He walked into my arms, and I pushed him away. “Jesus, Justin, you’re fucking freezing.”

He laughed again. “Pussy.”

I yanked off the towel and snapped it at him. “Go take a shower and rinse that crust of ice off before you touch me again.”

I was in bed with only one bedside light on when he came out, and I slid over and let him get in.

He wriggled against me. “Hmmmm, nice and warm. Thanks.”

I kissed his forehead. Then I kissed him, and when he opened his mouth to me, I touched his tongue with mine and forgot I’d been planning on telling him how proud I was of him, how beautiful his work was. I just kissed him.

I wondered if he wanted to fuck me, but he didn’t seem to, spreading his legs when I rolled on top of him, arching up against me. I was sure of it when I let my finger touch his hole, and it was wet. I laughed against his throat and he laughed, too.

After we fucked, I lay holding him. I remembered my plan, then, but I couldn’t get the words out. I lay there for a while, just touching his hair. I finally sighed and pulled him a little closer.

He looked up at my face, and then put his head back down on my shoulder. He still looked happy.

I cleared my throat. “Do you miss New York, Justin?”

I’d had no intention of asking him that. I lay there wondering how the hell that happened. But he didn’t look surprised, just thoughtful.

“I’m in New York. How can I miss it?”

“Miss living here.”

“No, I don’t miss New York.” He moved his head to my chest, and curved his fingers around the back of my neck. He kissed my chest. “And I didn’t miss Pittsburgh when I lived here. I missed you.”

I rolled him over, and lay on top of him, pushing his hair back with both my hands, my weight on my elbows. I stared into his eyes, and he looked back at me. His eyes were absolutely clear.

There wasn’t really anything Justin could have said to me that would have changed how I felt. There was still something simultaneously icy and hot inside my chest when I thought about the last year. I still didn’t really understand why he’d come back. And I felt that way even though I knew, really knew, that Justin loved me.

Then I thought about his paintings, and the table in his studio spread with drawings of Rage, and the corner with his computer and his music, and his fucking cell phone he seemed permanently unable to remember to leave on, and I thought, maybe I don’t need to understand it.

He moved a little under me, and made a noise in his throat. I was still stroking his hair back, and when I looked into his eyes again, they hadn’t changed. Still clear. I wondered what mine looked like to him.

He smiled and surprised me by rolling me over. He straddled me, and I grabbed his hands, and he leaned his weight into them, his knees tucked under on either side of my hips. “The show went great tonight, didn’t it?”

I nodded, and felt my throat unstick for a second. “I’m proud of you.”

His face lit up, and he dropped his head down and kissed me, just a light kiss on my mouth.

I turned my lips in, and took a breath. I waited for my throat to relax and let some words out. “You really don’t suck even a little.”

He laughed. “You are such a complete asshole. You’re lucky I love you and am addicted to your dick, or I’d make you sleep out on the terrace, in the snow.”

He lay down flat on top of me, and kissed my chest. I wrapped my arms around him, and then reached down and found some blankets, and pulled them up. He settled against me, shifting his weight off to the side, leaving his head on my chest.

I played with his hair, and when I heard his breathing get slow and deep, I closed my eyes.

This series is continued in Families, which begins here...