Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

After the End	By : Bloodyrose82 Category: M through R > Queer As Folk Views: 2114 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Queer As Folk, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-After the End
- 2-515
- 3-516
- 4-517
- 5-518
- 6-519
- 7-520
- 8-521
- 9-522
- 10-523
- 11-524
- 12-525
- 13-526
- 9
- 10
- 11
Prologue.

Some people say that sex is sacred, as if it�s something that should be wrapped up and saved for a special occasion, taken out a couple of times a year as if anymore would somehow remove the shine.

But sometimes, isn�t it just about lust, about the smell of pheromones from someone across the street, feeling the tight pull across the front of your pants as the rapid descent of blood from brain to cock banishes all rational thought?

Bringing it back to basics, aren�t we still animals after all, driven by hormones and the inexplicable urges of our id? Does it always have to mean something in the morning? Does the face always have to have a name? Sometimes one plus one equals two, and no matter how many disapproving looks get shot in your direction, emotions do not figure in the equation.

It�s a fun past-time, and it never gets old figuring out new ways to approach and conquer; with or without words, perhaps just a curl of the finger or a raised eyebrow as you glance towards the backroom. Maybe just a grind of hips against an ass, perfectly formed and without obligation.

It can be mechanical, fucking by rote. Slot part A into hole B and with enough pressure get the desired result. It sure as hell beats masturbation, the same hand on the same cock, rhythmic slapping of balls against wrist.

It�s almost as if the rest of the world works on the �look but don�t touch� policy, their heads swimming with movie-reel images of hot strangers approaching them in a club, throwing them back against a wall and ripping their pants down.

They say it�s okay to fantasize, that it doesn�t cost anything, but are they any different for keeping it all to the realms of their imagination?

Isn�t it better to be honest, to admit to liking to fuck, to be able to look at your partner and be able to tell them that when you are with them you completely belong to them? Mind, body, and soul. That your mind isn�t off fucking the waiter that served your table last night, because you already did him in the men�s bathroom, up against the wall.

Monogamy is over-rated and faithfulness lives on a sliding scale. There is no fear of cheating if you trick because the game play is already clear. There is no �what if?� when you see your partner looking at someone else with their lips parted in lust.

It�s out there in the open for all to see. Nothing is hidden at the back of your closest, a number scrawled on the back of a receipt and tucked into a jacket pocket.

And so fucking what if sometimes you hear his voice when they come?

-*-

I. Brian

You woke up disoriented and it took you a second to remember where you were - who you were- and who was pressed up against the curve of your back, before the previous day came crashing down upon your head.

Images of lawyers� offices, a church, a glimpse of a casket, and finally the oppressive crush against your chest as you realized you had done the forbidden, breached the pact you had made with yourself a long time ago: you had asked him to stay.

You had been torn all week, darting constantly from the need to have him by your side, and the knowledge that it was the one thing you could never request.

It wasn�t just because you had been trying to make it easier on him either. It was for you too. You had always known what his answer -or lack thereof- would be, and you had wanted to spare yourself from his negative, refusing to put yourself in a position where you would be forced to receive the �no�.

But it had happened, as you knew it probably would, and you felt a little ashamed at getting to that pin-prick point of desperation where you felt that everything you had taken for granted would float off into the ether if you didn�t try and ground yourself somehow.

So it had slipped out, the words whispered but sounding unbearably loud in your head. And you had waited, stupidly hanging on the precipice as a part of you clung blindly to the possibility that he may say yes.

Even though you knew he wouldn�t.

The silence had stretched on, and you thought for a moment that maybe you hadn�t said it out-loud after all, that maybe you could save part of your mangled pride.

It was there though, in his steady arms around your body, the way he stood calmly, acting all protective, as if he needed to keep you away from the self-destructive parts of yourself, and the only method he knew how was through not giving you an answer at all.

The silence stretched on, pulling thin like elastic drawn taut, almost to breaking point, and you clawed your way back from the edge, drawing away from him and finding a glass for your Beam.

You told him you sort of-kind of crashed your car, stunning him enough with the new information that you managed to swerve around your gigantic mistake, deflecting him with complaints about the price of paint jobs and how long it would take to get fixed.

But he had always seen through your bullshit, hadn�t he? And he prised the glass from your fingers when you went to pour a second shot, leading you up towards the bedroom and turning off all the lights.

He undressed you there, with a careful precision, making sure that none of his gestures could be read as anything other than they were - a nurturing attention that left you aching more than a blowjob ever could.

You let him pull a pair of sweatpants up over your hips and took his hand, holding on a little too tightly as he led you to the bed. You curled up on your side, away from him, and you felt the springs protest as he moved to get up again, as if even your fucking furniture felt he belonged right there with you, and you held his hand a little tighter, drawing his arm around your waist until he relented and spooned up behind you, sighing against the space between your shoulder blades.

It was manipulative, you knew, playing up the impact of your mother�s death to keep him close, but right then it didn�t matter. You didn�t care how confused he probably was, the merry-go-round of thoughts circling through his head. Everyone always said you were selfish and right at that moment you didn�t care.

You needed something just for you, and you pulled him closer, shutting your eyes, pretending that he didn�t have a plane ticket sitting on the dresser back at his mother�s house.

You fell asleep eventually, and even your dream world let you continue perpetrating your big fat lie, that perhaps if you wished hard enough he wouldn�t be gone by the end of the week.

-*-

II. Justin

You knew he was awake the moment you opened your eyes and were confronted with the sight of the expanse of his back.

His breathing was still deep and regular, but you knew without checking that his eyes would be open and affixed on his clock, his mind focused on trying to force the hands back.

It disturbed you that you could read him like that, as if you had picked up the language of his body without even realizing you had, but you supposed it was no different from studying a foreign tongue; that if you spent enough time listening to it then eventually you would begin to understand.

His question last night hadn�t surprised you like you knew it would have once, in a time before the proposal and the declarations of love.

It struck you as ironic that you had always been considered the verbally affectionate of the two of you, that if your friends were taking bets, the overwhelming odds would have fallen in your favour. You had always been the one who had wanted more, who had craved the �I love you�. You remembered a time when you would have done anything if only he had asked you to stay.

But not anymore.

You pictured both of you standing on two starting lines at the opposite ends of a field, facing each other, stepping up to your respective marks on the day you had met.

You were filled with expectation, looking for sex and the possibility of so much more, watching him take his own position at the start, looking also for sex, but anything else was definitely out of the question.

Then a whistle would blow and you would both be off, you taking a giant leap into infatuation with a gorgeous man you barely knew, and Brian taking a couple of baby steps, amusement on his face as he watched your overenthusiastic, idealistic teenage fancies.

And you would both keep walking, you with your bouncing optimism and him with his heavy footsteps, overburdened with excess baggage and an unhealthy dose of cynicism.

Then you would pause, with a sudden jolt, jerked into a daisy-chain clearing of love, the air around you spinning with confusion as he raised his head, watching you warily, and took a step back.

But the race had started, and as was always the case with such things, there was no going back to the beginning. There were stumbles along the way, an occasional stitch in the side as he refused to admit you were his boyfriend, followed by the sweet relief of refreshment just when you thought you would collapse from thirst, as he took you back in, or made some elaborate gesture like paying for your tuition. That�s when you knew, even if he didn�t, that the race was far from over.

It was like a fucking marathon, an uphill struggle most of the way, but eventually you would find yourself closer to him, so close you could almost see the flecks of green in his eyes.

You reached each other, finally, and both stopped, gasping for air as he reached the conclusion that he really and truly loved you, forcing down the horror from his face as he proposed properly that second time, and eventually you realized that it was for real, that it wasn�t just a reaction to the bombing, that he really wanted you.

You accepted but then you were off again, one step past him, the lift of his shoulder passing the corner of your eye. It was like neither of you had been able to stop where you were for more than a second, that life, no matter how you both felt, had to go on.

You were both on your separate paths that sometimes ran parallel, and almost always crossed, but ultimately you both had to keep on walking, reaching out towards your own realizations, and you had pushed on, flying off to New York with a tiny glance behind you, knowing that you wouldn�t be able to make that trek back towards him until you knew who you were, what you wanted, how to be happy in a head that wasn�t focused on Brian.

It was a choice, but one which you couldn�t refuse to make.

And he was still walking too, moving from a closed-off prison that denied all emotion, scorning the possibility of love, to a place where he could open up and accept that he wasn�t a bad person, that people cared for him, and that it was okay to care back.

Brian rolled over in the bed and looked at you, and you knew, gazing back into his eyes, that the finishing line was close for both of you.

The only question left to answer was whether or not you would both be in the same place, after the end.

-*-

III. Brian

You looked into his eyes and he stared steadily back at you, unblinking. You knew that look. It was his �being patient with Brian� look, as if he was waiting to follow where your lead would take him.

You hated that look, hated the passivity, hated the implication that you were the one making all of the decisions when you knew he had always been the one truly in control.

You looked at the clock again, already knowing the time, and heaved yourself out of bed to go and shower.

By the time you had finished and appeared in the kitchen in your suit, he�d magically procured breakfast from somewhere, and sat at the counter, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, the image of perfect domesticity.

"Debb called while you were in the shower," he said, without looking up. "She invited us for dinner tonight. Just the two of us and her and Emmett."

There it was again - �the two of us�, those stupid little words that continued to pair you off when you were both flying solo.

"I don�t really want to, Sunshine," you told him, and grabbed a croissant from the plate, tearing it apart with your fingers. "I�m not really in the mood for a quiet night in with friends."

He looked up at you, his gaze intense, as if he could read your thoughts if he stared hard enough.

"If you want to go to the club, we could do that afterwards."

You slammed the croissant down on the counter top, spraying crumbs everywhere. "I said no, god dammit!"

He looked startled for a second, but quickly schooled his features into a blank look. "It�s okay," he said softly. "You don�t have to. We could eat here and then go to the club."

"I have a better idea," you replied, going over to the desk that housed your computer and grabbing a pile of printouts, shoving them in your briefcase. "Why don�t you go and have dinner with them and I�ll go to the club?"

You couldn�t explain it but you needed to be away from him suddenly, as if you needed to realign the reality of your life with the inevitable loss of him at the end of the week.

You didn�t want to play the happy couple, not while it wasn�t true. You wanted to see him, sure, fuck him, definitely, but not walk around in a happy little bubble as if he was still living at the loft, as if nothing had changed.

"Okay," he said slowly, and took a bite of his croissant, ignoring the flaky mess of yours. "I�ll catch up with you in Babylon afterwards."

You sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose, searching for some patience. "Do whatever you want," you said finally, barely managing to contain the accusatory �you always do� that nevertheless hung in the air between you like a nasty smell.

You didn�t bother waiting around for his reaction; you already knew what he would do. He would turn up at the club anyway, all smiles and laughter, and expect to go back home with you when the night came to a close, even if you knew that he would protest it if you had asked.

It was as if his body was automatically drawn towards yours when you were in the vicinity, his finely tuned senses like a god damn metal detector going off when he knew you were about.

You couldn�t bury yourself far enough under the ground. There was nowhere to hide.

-*-

IV. Justin

You watched him leave the loft and sighed, getting up to clear away the remains of the breakfast you had run out to buy when he was still in the shower.

You didn�t blame him for being angry, for wanting to go off alone. It was one of his more widely used tactics when he felt trapped and out of control. But you couldn�t blame yourself for wanting to spend every second with him either. The closer you got towards the end of your stay, the more you wanted to see him, as if overexposure would give you enough memories to last you when you went back to New York and made the decision to never see him again.

Never was perhaps too strong a word, you thought, as you left the loft, setting the alarm, and started walking to Daphne�s apartment.

It was more like an immediate never, put in place for the indefinable future until you felt you had done everything you could to try and make an impact on the art world. Until you had done everything you could to flush him out of your system, relegating your feelings towards him to a want instead of a need.

Daphne grinned when she opened the door and saw you standing there, drawing you into the place she called her home. You had always liked it there, comfortable amongst the clutter of textbooks and CDs, and abandoned pizza boxes shoved under the coffee table.

You had always felt more at ease with the kind of organized mess she cultivated, finding it fit better with your state of mind than the clinical feeling of the loft. That had always been Brian�s territory, even after you had been living there for months, your socks in the laundry basket and your sketchpads tossed on the counter.

In part, that was why you had wanted a house like Brighton, a place that was for both of you right from the start, where you could decorate with both of you in mind, and could fill with your artwork and his excessively expensive furnishings. It felt like it was something that could represent the ideal of your relationship, where two people could reside, whereas the loft was meant for one, inexplicably Brian; your belongings looked like a temporary feature that never quite gelled with the crisp clean lines of his Italian d�cor.

You sat down on Daphne�s couch, pulling a DVD box from under the seat as the corner dug into your ass, and looked up with one eyebrow raised as she came in from the kitchen, a beer bottle in each hand.

"Bit early for that, isn�t it?" you asked, checking the clock to find it just after ten.

"Oh please," she scoffed, and knocked the tops off the bottles on the edge of the table, handing you one. "We�re students. It would be wrong of us not to."

You laughed and took a sip, leaning back. "You�re a student," you reminded her. "I�m not."

She shrugged and sat down on the floor by your feet, hooking one arm over your legs. "You�re an artist, which is about as close as you can get to being a student without actually calling yourself one." You had to concede that point. "Besides, weren�t most of the Masters drunk or high when they painted their most famous works?"

"Some of them were," you admitted. "They thought that they could free their minds from the restraints of society�s norms if they were off their faces. Personally, I just think they fancied the idea of being labelled crazy so they could be left alone to paint."

Daphne laughed and looked up at you. "Well, you�d know all about that."

You nudged her, mock disbelief on your face. "You bitch."

It was nice spending time with Daphne. You�d forgotten how much you�d missed that. Out of everyone in Pittsburgh she was the only friend you had known first, before Brian had come along. She was someone who you knew would always be on your side.

"So what about that dance then?" she said slyly, looking up at you with wide eyes. "I saw one of the advertisements on a bulletin board at college. You going to go?"

"Yup!" You nodded and took another sip from your beer, covering up a burp with your hand. "Most of us are going, even Debb."

"Wow," she said, resting her chin on your knee. "I can�t believe Brian actually agreed to go with you to something like that so easily. Or was it a struggle?"

You pulled a face. "Actually, Daph, he�s not going with me. He refuses and I can�t say I blame him after what happened at the prom. I�m sort of going with Emmett instead."

"What?!" she looked appalled. "This is the one chance he has of showing you what it felt like on prom night and he point blank refused? Sure, I expected a fight, but total refusal?"

"You know what he�s like," you said. "He never wants to do anything that could be classified as romantic, and this type of dance certainly constitutes that."

"Oh, of course," she replied, one eyebrow raised. "Brian Kinney hates anything like that. I could never see him turning up at his supposed non-boyfriend�s prom and sweeping him off his feet, or declaring his undying love. A marriage proposal would definitely never be an option�"

She really did have a good point.

-*-

V. Brian

You sensed the unusual atmosphere in the office the moment you walked in the door. People were milling around the front desk, chattering incessantly, huge smiles on their faces. They shot you knowing looks, which you promptly ignored and made your way into your office to find Theodore sprawled on the couch, his phone against his ear, grinning so widely it looked like his face would break.

"Brian!" He snapped his phone closed and sat up. "We�ve been trying to get hold of you all morning but nobody was picking up at the loft and your cell phone was turned off."

You shrugged and put your briefcase down on your desk. "My working day doesn�t start until I get here, whenever that is."

Theodore gave you an exasperated look and walked over to your desk, hovering next to it like a demented, oversized fly.

You sank into your chair and looked up at him. "Well, what is it? Are you going to tell me why everyone is walking around looking like they just got a Christmas bonus, or am I going to have to guess?"

"The new Brown ad ran yesterday," he said, practically bouncing up and down.

You rolled your eyes. "I do remember that. If I do recall, I own the fucking company."

He smiled again in that irritatingly knowing way of his, and you just knew he was going to draw it out.

"You do, but if you recall, you didn�t check in here yesterday."

"I don�t have amnesia, Theodore," you said, and leant back, playing with your pen. "I was busy telling my mother�s church exactly what I thought of her."

"Right." That stopped him in his tracks for a second before he remembered why he was so excited, and the bouncing started again. "So you weren�t here to receive their reactions then."

"That would be a safe deduction, yes." You were growing impatient already -it had never been your strong point to wait- and you decided that if he didn�t reveal all in the next sixty seconds then you would fire his ass and shove him out the door.

"I take it they approved of it?" you asked, glancing at the phone, wondering if it wouldn�t be easier connecting the line to Cynthia and asking her to spill. She had never been good at hiding anything from you.

"Like it? They loved it!" he exclaimed. "But that isn�t the news. I got into the office this morning and found Cynthia talking on the phone, her voice so shrill anyone would think she had just won the sweepstakes."

"You mean to tell me she hasn�t?" you asked sarcastically, biting the inside of your cheek.

"No, Brian." He gave you a look and you rolled your eyes. "It was the company director of Brown�s biggest competitors."

"Alvertons?" you asked, suddenly interested. "What did they want?"

"They had seen the ad," Theodore replied. "And they wanted your help. They said that their sales were down and with the new Brown ads they were sure to lose more business. They wanted to hire you for their own campaign."

You shot him a look. "Now, now, Theodore, not so fast. You know I don�t work like that. If we take them on then we are sure to lose Brown, and it will sully our reputation for being loyal. It�s all well and good manipulating people but playing them off against each other in this case would just leave our asses burned."

"I know all that!" he said, and put his hands flat on the desk, leaning over it. "Which is why Cynthia made your apologies."

"Then why is everyone so excited?" You glared at him, reaching the end of your very short tether.

He sensed the change in your demeanour and stopped playing his little games. "One of Brown�s representatives dropped by to pick up the revised contract and Cynthia accidentally-on-purpose happened to announce very loudly to one of our interns that Alvertons had expressed an interest." He paused, his shit-eating grin making another appearance. "Within half an hour of him leaving, Brown was on the phone announcing they are so pleased with our work for them, their sales figures at an all-time high, that they wanted to sign a contract making Kinnetik their solo advertising contact for�" he paused again, "the next ten years. As long as we sign saying we will not do business with their closest competitors."

"Fuck!" What else could you say to that? Anything else would be woefully inadequate.

"With a basic budget of fifteen million annually, with the room to bargain for extras," he finished with a flourish.

You stared at him, blinking slowly, the amazement slipping from your face to be replaced with one of the Christmas-morning just-got-laid-by-Brad-Pitt smiles everyone else was sporting.

"Now, are you doing to join us all for champagne and make sure that Cynthia gets the raise she deserves," Theodore said, looking decidedly smug. "Or are you going to sit and continue moping for the rest of the day?"

For once you didn�t care about that self-satisfied smirk. You just offered him your own in return.

-*-

VI. Justin

You stayed with Daphne for a few hours, talking easily about old times, feeling oddly nostalgic, as if you were packing away the past. She kissed you on both cheeks as you left, making plans to come to New York in a couple of months, and you walked slowly away from her apartment towards Liberty Avenue, not quite understanding why you felt a little sad.

Debb was taking a break when you arrived at the diner and pulled you into a booth, sitting down opposite you with a sandwich in her hands.

"Brian refused to come tonight," you told her with a frown.

"I kind of expected it, Sunshine," she replied, offering a sympathetic smile. "It�s been a hard week for him. Knowing Brian, he wants to get back to normal as soon as possible, and these days his normal is spending as many hours as possible at the club."

You nodded and ordered lunch from Kiki as she passed, then folded your arms across your chest. "I feel guilty," you said. "Even though I know I shouldn�t. I feel like it�s my fault."

"It�s not your fucking fault, honey," Debb replied, giving you a warning look that she wasn�t about to let you sink into self-imposed self-pity. "He�s old enough to know the score."

"But still. Maybe if I hadn�t come back--"

She cut you off right there. "This is your home, Sunshine, no matter how far away you are, and we are all your family. We want to see you. Even Brian. Even if it hurts a little bit."

You nodded and distracted yourself by putting ketchup on your fries when they were placed in front of you. "I suppose it means we can discuss the dance tonight without having to worry about being tactful for his sake." You tried on a smile.

"Too damn right we can!" Debb beamed. "We�re going to find you the hottest suit in Pittsburgh and when he sees the photos he�s going to kick himself for not taking you."

"Who�s going to kick himself for what?"

You looked up to see Brian standing over you, a killer smile tugging on his face, as if he had been let in on the biggest secret in the world. He nudged you over and sat down next to you in the booth, stealing one of your fries, sticking it into his mouth with a smirk.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Debb asked, eyeing him suspiciously. "You realize it�s not a good work ethic to get high in the office?"

"Usually I would agree," he replied, and sat back, adjusting his tie, "But a couple of glasses of champagne doesn�t do anyone any harm when you�ve just secured the Brown account for the next decade."

He looked around nonchalantly, whistling, as if this sort of thing happened to him every day, and you exchanged an amazed look with Debb.

"Oh honey!" she said, grinning at him. "That�s wonderful news!" She got up from the booth and patted his shoulder. "You sit right there, lunch is on me."

Brian grinned back and slung an arm around your shoulders.

Finally, something was going right for him.

"So, how about going somewhere fun this afternoon, Sunshine?" he asked, smiling. "I�m feeling generous and I�ve given myself the afternoon off."

"Did you give the rest of the office the afternoon off too?" you asked him, shooting him a look.

"Fuck no. What do you take me for, a nice boss?" He snorted and you couldn�t help but smile. "Everyone who is working on the account is getting a nice little bonus in their paycheck this month. That is as far as my generosity will stretch, and that in itself is almost painful."

Debbie came back over to the table with his sandwich and some coffee, and he caught her wrist before she had the chance to move away again.

"About tonight," he said. "I can�t make dinner at your place because I have a table for four booked at one of the most expensive restaurants in town. We�ll be round to pick you and Emmett up at eight."

Debbie blinked at him and then laughed. "You little shit!" She patted his cheek and moved on to take other orders, a new lightness in her step.

You didn�t have the heart to point out that if it wasn�t for the account, Brian would have spent the evening in Babylon, alone, like he had planned.

"Come on, Sunshine," he said, sneaking another fry from your plate when he thought you weren�t looking. "Anywhere you can think of. May as well take full advantage while I�m in a good mood."

You tilted your head, biting on your lip. There was somewhere you had planned on going since you had first brought your plane ticket. Up until now you hadn�t found the time, or perhaps the courage, to put your plan into action, but it seemed like maybe now was the right time.

"Anywhere?" you asked, looking up at him.

"Anywhere," he confirmed. "Doesn�t matter about the cost."

"It doesn�t cost anything more than a cab fare, actually, but it�s not exactly anyone�s idea of a good time."

He raised an eyebrow at you. "If you want to do it then we will do it. And if it�s inexpensive then I�m definitely all for it."

You smiled and nodded. "Okay, we�ll finish lunch first and then we�ll get going."

You lapsed into silence, wondering if it was a good idea, but then you thought back to the day before, when Brian found the guts to stand up at his mother�s funeral and say what he really felt.

If he could say those things about his mother then you sure as hell could confront your father for one last time.

-*-

VII. Brian.

You stared at Taylor Electronics when the cab pulled up outside, and looked back at Justin. His eyes were fixed on the brick building, a small frown on his face, and you nudged him, opening the door and getting out.

You moved towards the building but paused when he didn�t follow you, and you looked back to find him standing on the sidewalk, an apprehensive look on his face, his hands shoved into his pockets.

You walked back over and stood in front of him, waiting until he looked up at you before you spoke. "Whatever you�re here for, Sunshine, you don�t have to do it if you don�t want to."

He nodded, his eyes flitting back to the building. "Yes I do," he said. "I�ve needed to do this for a long time now, and if I don�t get it over with today, then I don�t think I ever will."

You watched him for a second, studying his face. "What do you expect to get out of it? I don�t want to try and crush any hopes you may have, but I don�t think he�s going to accept you, if that�s what you want."

"It isn�t," he said, and you saw a wave of stubborn resolution wash over his face. "I�m not foolish enough to even try something like that."

You shrugged and bumped your shoulder against his. "Okay then," you said. "Whatever it is you have to do, let�s go and do it then we can relax for a few hours before we have to go out and meet Debb and Emm."

He blinked up at you and nodded again, then squared his shoulders and set off towards the building, leaving you to jog to catch up.

The store was pretty empty when you entered, which left you feeling a little satisfied, as if you thought nobody liked to shop there, and you followed Justin to the office in the back, catching his hand and squeezing it once before dropping it and waiting for him to knock.

If his father was surprised to see him, he didn�t look it, and he glanced from Justin to you before gesturing for you to step inside and take a seat.

Justin shook his head and stood over by the desk, watching as his father walked around it and sat down. You kept near the door, giving them their space, leaning lightly against the wall as you surveyed the proceedings.

"This won�t take long," Justin said, and his father snorted, a nasty smile gracing his face.

"That�s good," he said. "I�m a busy man these days. We�re expanding to a second branch."

"So my mother told me," Justin replied, looking back at him steadily. "It�s a nice coincidence because it means that what I am here for shouldn�t be any problem."

"If this is about you wanting money then the answer is no," Mr. Taylor replied, and you had to restrain yourself from opening your mouth. "You know how I feel about your choice of career and your�lifestyle. Nothing has changed since the last time I saw you."

He looked up at you then, his eyes raking over you disapprovingly. "What�s wrong with asking your boyfriend for money if you need it so badly? The last I heard he was more than willing to pay your way."

He sneered and you clenched your fingers. Of course, it was completely true that you had been happy to pay for Justin�s tuition and anything else he needed, even if at the time Justin had been annoyed with you. But it was the way his father said it, as if you were some kind of sugar daddy who had Justin as a kept man in exchange for sex.

You had never liked his father.

Justin raised one eyebrow, and you could tell by the line of his back that he was struggling to keep himself calm. "For a start, Brian isn�t my boyfriend," he said, and you flinched a bit. Even if it was true you hated being reminded of it. "And secondly, I am here for money, but not for myself."

"That makes a change," his father replied, and steepled his fingers on the top of his desk.

"I�m here about Molly," Justin continued, and suddenly his intentions were quite clear. "She doesn�t deserve to suffer because of your feelings towards me."

"Maybe you should have thought about that," his father said, and tilted his head, examining Justin like he was something disgusting on the bottom of his shoe.

"I�m not going to apologize for who I am," Justin said, and you could hear the strain in his voice. "I don�t expect you to apologize for being who you are either. I know I�m not the son you wanted. You wanted someone who would follow in your footsteps. You wanted someone who wasn�t gay."

"Damn straight I did!" he declared, chuckling at his own choice of words.

Justin let out a breath and ploughed on. "But that isn�t me. That has never been me. You just thought it was. I�m sorry you can�t accept that, but I�m not sorry I can�t be what you want. I'm not the son you wanted, but you're not the father I wanted either."

Mr. Taylor studied him for a second, his face turning red, and then looked back at you. "Did you put him up to this?"

You had to crack a smile at that. "Afraid not. I wish I could take the credit but he thought this one up all by himself!"

He snorted and looked back towards his son. "Well, Justin that was a lovely little speech, but if you�ll excuse me, I have work to do. You can see yourself out."

"I�m not finished yet," Justin gritted out between his teeth, and you weren�t sure you had ever seen him look so resolute. "Molly is your daughter and she�s a good kid," he continued. "I can understand your need to spend more money on your new wife, but you can�t just refuse to pay for things for Molly because she�s part of your old life. If it makes any difference, I�m pretty sure she�s going to be straight."

You briefly thought of the garish pink bedroom back at Jennifer�s house, the open door showing a slue of posters portraying teeny-bopper boy bands on the wall when you had passed.

"Now, I know you have been spending some time with her," Justin said. "I think that�s great, but you can�t ignore her financial needs because you want to punish me or Mom."

You looked back at Mr. Taylor, who sat with a stony look on his face, his lips pursed. You knew that there was no logical argument he could come back with, even if his normal reasoning was usually off base.

"So I�m asking you nicely to do what�s right by her," Justin finished. "And I�m willing to never see you again to get that for her if that�s what you want."

Justin stared at him for a couple of seconds, and you were suddenly glad that you weren�t the one on the receiving end of that look.

His father nodded slowly, remaining silent, and Justin nodded once back before turning on his heels, taking your hands, and pulling you out of the office.

It was bright outside and you looked at him, feeling him shaking slightly underneath your hands as you stopped and placed them on his shoulders, gazing down into his face. "You did good in there," you told him, and pulled him into a hug.

It took a few minutes for the shaking to stop.

-*-

VIII. Justin

It had felt good to do that, to be able to walk into his office with your head held high, and remain reasonably calm while you explained what you had wanted.

You had a long time ago given up on the idea that he would turn around one day and reclaim you as his son. But it didn�t matter anymore. You knew from Brian�s experiences with his own parents that you couldn�t make someone understand you, however hard you tried, and in the end if you kept on pushing it, building up hope that in the end they would change, it would just be like you were letting them hurt you all over again.

But even so, despite all this, you knew the visit had served a dual purpose. Not only did you manage to get your point across about Molly, but you also managed to close another door on your old life. It was like you were saying goodbye to everyone, and after you had managed to stop shaking, a heavy calm came down around your head.

It was another thing you could truly say you had packed away, moving your focus away from your childhood in Pittsburgh to the rest of your life, wherever that may lead.

Brian pulled his cell phone out with the intention of calling a cab, and you placed a hand on his arm stopping him.

"It�s a nice afternoon," you said. "Let�s walk back."

He snorted and gave you a look. "What�s the point in walking anywhere where someone can drive you?"

"It would save you a fortune on gym fees if you did," you informed him, and began pulling him down the road. "Walking is one of the best forms of exercise you can get."

"Thanks for the health advice, Mr. Taylor," he said, loosening your grip on his arm a little. "But walking doesn�t give everyone around me the chance to admire my fabulous abs and my rock hard pecs."

You rolled your eyes at him. "You have to be the vainest person I have ever met."

"Thank you," he said sincerely, and shot you a smile, as if it was possibly the best compliment he had ever received.

"It was nice of you to offer to take us all out tonight," you told him, when you were a little further down the road. "Are you going to invite Michael?"

"Oh. No, I don�t think that�s such a great idea with the track record you two have. I can take him out to celebrate another night."

The implication of �after you are gone� was left unsaid.

"Besides," he said, laughing. "Mikey wouldn�t really appreciate fine dining. I�d be better off taking him to a pizza parlour and ordering him a twelve inch Mighty Meat."

You snorted, looking at him sideways. "Undoubtedly that�s something that will always gain you favor with him."

He grinned back and pulled his arm loose from your hand, slipping it around your waist, pushing his hand into the back pocket of your jeans.

It was a simple gesture, but it made you smile anyway. It was something he did without thinking, but you knew that to anyone watching it would look like you were a couple.

"What about me?" you asked, looking up at him innocently. "Why don�t I get a mouthful of Mighty Meat?"

He laughed at that and nudged your hip with his. He was obviously in a good mood if he could let that slip.

"Be a good boy and eat all of your dinner, Sunshine," he said. "Then maybe you�ll get something big for dessert."

-*-

IX. Brian

Fuck, it was so horribly simple to fall back into flirting with him like that, and what�s more it felt good. It felt right and you couldn�t help but encourage him.

The seat of his pants was warm under your palm, and you had to stop yourself from slipping it inside his underwear instead, enjoying the flex of his ass as he walked.

You were almost tempted to pull him into an alleyway and push him to his knees, undoing your pants and shoving your cock into his eager mouth, but you knew that if you started then you wouldn�t be able to resist pulling the rest of your clothes off and pressing his face against the rough brick wall, aligning yourself against his back, the hot flush of skin against skin keeping the cold weather at bay.

That could wait until later, after you had spent an evening with Debb and Emm, hiding your smile at their excited faces when they discovered that lobster was on the menu.

You wanted to tell yourself that after dinner you would take him back to the loft and undress him slowly, allowing his clothes to pool on the floor, and then push him back against the bed, pinning his arms against his sides as you covered every inch of his skin with hot, slow kisses.

But you weren�t sure if that was a good idea either. It seemed more fitting to take him to the club where you could lead him into the sordid glow of the backroom, feeling a dozen pairs of envious eyes sweeping over your body as you fucked him hard against the wall, pretending he was just a trick.

It would be so much easier to take him like that, but you had suspicions that your body would betray you, your fingers skipping down his ribs to splay against his abdomen, feeling the flutter of his stomach underneath, and then lower, dipping into the creases where thigh met groin; the tiny hidden areas of his body that had only relinquished their secrets after weeks of exploring every inch of him, mapping out his erogenous zones with your tongue.

You didn�t know if you were able to push past all that, fooling your body into thinking his was a new figure you hadn�t encountered before.

You knew you could act well enough, using forcefulness to hide the way you felt towards him, up until your orgasm at least. But you knew that moment would betray you, when you pressed your mouth down against his lips, and afterwards when you leaned against him, smelling the sweat of his release.

It didn�t matter if he noticed all of those things; it was inevitable he would, his own body responding automatically, turning the whole thing into something that resembled a whispered conversation between two lovers instead of the harsh, grounded physicality of an animalistic fuck that you wanted.

It mattered that you knew, that it was something you couldn�t really hide, and you thought back to the beginning of his stay, when you each took a trick side by side, making love to each other as you sheathed yourselves inside of them.

For a moment you thought again about laying him out and touching him like you really wanted to: slow deliberate caresses that teased over the right spots, applying pressure steadily until he was ready to boil over, and then you would reduce them again to little simmers, your fingertips bubbling over his skin until he couldn�t take it anymore and begged you in that lust-rough voice of his that sent sparks straight to your groin.

But then you remembered who you were, who he was, and that the last time you had been with him like that it was for the purpose of saying goodbye.

-*-

X. Justin

You left Brian on Liberty Avenue and went back to your mother�s house for a nap. By the time you emerged a couple of hours later, dressed in a pair of dress pants and a button-up shirt, you felt a little giddy with excitement, and even though you had seen him only a couple of hours ago, the time to see him again felt long overdue.

Emmett answered the door at Debb�s house, and you barely had time to sit yourself down on the couch before Brian arrived, looking dapper in a charcoal suit, and herded you all into the back of a cab.

He was silent for the most part as you rode to the restaurant, but he wore a small smile on his face the entire time, as if he knew something the rest of you didn�t, and he wasn�t in any hurry to tell.

"Fucking hell, it looks expensive here!" Debb exclaimed when you all walked through the door, and you hid a smile by pressing your face against the back of Brian�s shoulder as he shot an apologetic look at the little old man who showed you to your seats.

Dinner was a quiet affair apart from a couple more comments from Debb, both at the cost of the wine, and how small the desserts forks were compared to the chunk of chocolate cake.

At the end of the meal, Brian refilled all of the wine glasses and stood up, raising his for a toast. "To Debb, for keeping us all well fed, to Emmett for making sure the queer candle keeps burning bright, to me for managing to snag one of the most wanted accounts in the advertising world, for the next ten years at least," he paused and looked towards you, that secret smile on his face again. "And to Justin, who is taking the art world by storm, and who is going to go back to New York in a couple of days and paint and keep painting until he is the most famous queer artist in the world."

Debb and Emmett grinned, clinking their glasses together, and you forced a smile, raising your glass back towards Brian across the table, studying his face.

What exactly was he up to?

You couldn�t quite work out where he stood in all of this. He seemed to swing indecisively between hating that you were here, hating that you were going, begging you to stay, and practically shoving you out of the door and putting you on the plane himself.

You tried to react in an appropriate way to all of these different moods, but mainly you just wanted to take his face in both of your hands and kiss him until you broke through that frost of his and got him to kiss you back.

Debb declined Brian�s invitation to Babylon afterwards, saying that she had seen her fair share of cock in her time and right then all she wanted to do was go home and watch an old movie on TV as she waited for Carl to get off work.

You left the restaurant after seeing her safely into a cab, and walked to the club between Brian and Emmett, Emm�s arm slung around your shoulders almost possessively, gaining tiny glares from Brian. You laughed every time it happened and raised your eyebrow, leaning a little closer into Emm�s chest.

"I�m going to have the hottest date to the dance!" Emmett declared to a random couple of fags, and they nodded indulgently, smiling back.

"Are you jealous, Brian?" Emmett asked, and you wondered how far it would take to push him over the edge.

"Oh incredibly," he replied dryly. "I really want to waste hours standing around the GLC listening to guest speakers droning on about gay rights in-between painfully formal dances where you get looked at inappropriately if you so much as move your hand an inch lower on your partner�s waist."

Emmett blinked and narrowed his eyes slightly at him as you pushed past the snaking line outside Babylon, the doorman nodding to Brian as you walked in.

"You�re still not going then?" he asked, nudging your hip as he looked at Brian.

"Well done, Sherlock," Brian replied. "I don�t know what we would ever do without your insight."

Emmett patted your arm sympathetically and swung himself down onto one of the barstools, leaning over to whisper in your ear. "We�ll break him yet, sweetie," said. "You mark my words. We just have to find his weakness."

You snorted. You knew Brian�s main weakness, but you didn�t think in this case it would have much impact.

His weakness always had been, and probably always would be sex.

-*-

XI. Brian

You had heard enough about the fucking dance to last a lifetime. You decided the next person to mention it would get a swift punch in the face, even if it was Justin, unless there was a really good fucking reason not to. Like they bribed you with sex.

You sat at the end of the bar, sipping your drink, and decided the best course of action was to get so drunk you could forget it all. Then you could sidle across the dance floor to where Justin had pulled Emmett after he had convinced him they should dance, and push yourself up against him, grinding your erection against his hip until he gave in and pulled you towards the backroom as if the whole thing had been his idea in the first place.

And it wouldn�t matter if you did slip up and do something embarrassing that revealed how you really felt, because you wouldn�t remember it in the morning anyway.

You looked up and a man stepped into your line of sight. He was a new face to club, you knew that because he was attractive and you hadn�t fucked him before, and you had screwed every hot regular in the place. He held your gaze for a second, tilting his head towards you as he checked you out.

His gaze was hot, and you shifted slightly, feeling the familiar prickle along the back of your neck as you studied him back.

You itched to get up, go over to him, and pull his hips snug against yours, making it clear right from the start who was in control, but you found yourself glued to your seat.

It would be easy, sure, to find your release in the depths of his body, pounding into him like you were searching for some sort of answer to put an end to the confusing mess that had become your entire week. And didn�t you deserve something nice after everything that had happened?

But you still couldn�t move, and your eyes kept snapping back to Justin, who was laughing loudly as Emmett exaggeratedly ground against his leg, his arms raised high in the air.

You could fuck the trick, letting yourself believe it was what you wanted, but it wouldn�t change the obvious truth, that while he was here in Pittsburgh, no matter who you fucked, you would be fucking Justin, your mind automatically comparing the trick�s body to his, frowning when they didn�t quite measure up.

You averted your eyes from the man, ignoring his disappointed shrug as he walked off into the crowd and found someone else. You turned back to the bar and ordered another drink.

Fucking hell, he�d even managed to ruin sex for you.

-*-

XII. Justin

You tried not to watch the guy cruising Brian, or his interest back, as he raised his head like a sniffer-dog, his eyes lighting up as he picked up his scent.

You let Emmett move you around, smiling at his antics, but kept watching Brian out of the corner of your eye. The trick was just the type he would go for - chiselled and sculptured like he had been deliberately carved out just to entice; an almost complete opposite from your body type.

You always found it amusing when asked, that his preferred man never looked anything like you, but you were secure with your own appearance, knowing you had one of the hottest asses in Pittsburgh, and that however much he protested that he didn�t go for twinks, you always got a rise out of him, quite literally, the moment you dropped your pants.

You weren�t quite sure how to feel when Brian let his trick leave, shifting his gaze from him as he moved towards the backroom with someone else. You were confused that he hadn�t gone with him when he had made it quite clear earlier in the week, when you had caught him at the loft with that other trick�s head between his thighs, that in spite of your re-appearance in his life for the short time you were here, he was still going to fuck around.

But you were sort of smug, too, when you saw him glance in your direction before he ordered his drink, almost as if he had turned the guy down because he had wanted you instead.

You continued dancing with Emm, letting him spin you around and around underneath the whirling lights as they blinked on and off, and waited for Brian to walk up, cutting between you and claming Emmett�s place for himself.

And you waited.

After the eighth song, and Brian�s fourth drink, you decided he wasn�t going to come over, and you wondered what it was that made him refuse the trick if it wasn�t a desire to claim you instead.

Emmett followed the direction of your gaze and cupped his hand around his mouth to shout to you over the music.

"Give it up, sweetie!" he said. "He�s not going to come over. Just put it down to his loss and find someone who can be more appreciative of what you have to offer tonight."

He gave you a wink and leaned in to kiss your cheek before threading his way off the dance floor to get his own drink. You watched him plonk himself down next to Brian, who barely looked up when he started speaking to him, and you decided that an extreme course of action was required if you were ever going to get any results.

You closed your eyes and started moving sensuously to the music, aware of yearning eyes as they turned in your direction. You rotated your hips carefully, picking out the slow beat building like an approaching orgasm behind the electronic melody of the music, and ran one hand up your stomach, leaving a trail of goose bumps along your flesh as your fingers skipped against the skin underneath your shirt. Finally, you began to undo the buttons, starting from the top.

You were aware of the low hum of conversation as people around you started taking note, wondering how far you would go and what you would do next, and you ran one hand down your chest, teasing your nipples erect before shrugging the shirt off your shoulders and throwing it somewhere on the floor where it would undoubtedly get trampled on and become lost.

You opened your eyes to find him looking at you with undisguised interest, his Beam abandoned on the bar as he drank in your movements instead.

You locked eyes with him, rolling your hips in his direction, and let your mouth fall open, wetting your lips. You were performing only for him now, and you knew he couldn�t resist. Sure enough, when you ran one hand lower, your palm digging into your cock as you snapped the button on your pants, he downed his drink and stalked over, his eyes fixed on yours.

You smiled as he approached, slipping the tips of your fingers just inside the waistband of your pants, and moved closer to him as he came to a stop, his face unreadable, his gaze dropping down to your hand and then back up to your face.

He took hold of both of your wrists and shoved them behind your back, trapping them underneath one of his hands, and trailed the other up your chest, stopping it at the base of your throat, his fingers wrapping loosely around your neck.

Your pupils dilated as he leant in close, his heady scent blocking out everything else, and you parted your lips, waiting for your kiss.

It never came and you looked back up to meet his eyes, hardened slightly under the glare from the lights.

"What the fuck do you think you�re doing?" he hissed, his fingers flexing slightly against your pulse.

You swallowed, your Adam�s apple bumping against his wrist. "I thought�"

He raised one eyebrow when you couldn�t finish your sentence, and decided he would do it for you.

"You thought what? That it would be fun to make a complete spectacle of yourself on the dance floor?"

You shook your head. "I�" But he wasn�t having any of it.

"Or what? You thought this would be a good way of getting me into bed? �Oh, I know, let's do an impromptu striptease and maybe he will find me so irresistible he will sweep me off my feet and give me a swift hard fuck�."

His eyes were blazing now, and you held your breath. You hadn�t really known what you were thinking, it had just seemed right at the time. You had wanted him and it had appeared like a good idea to try and catch his attention with something like that.

He had certainly never complained before.

"It was just a bit of fun," you mumbled, looking away from him, and he grasped your chin, forcing your face back around.

"Fun?" he asked, his eyebrows raised as his eyes drilled a hole right through into your brain. "You call this fun?" He shook his head in disbelief, his voice suddenly quiet. "You just don�t have any idea, do you?"

He looked at you for a minute longer, and you shrunk under his gaze, and then he released his grip on your face and wrists, and marched straight towards the exit of the club.

"Brian!" You called after him, your voice annoyingly desperate even to your own ears, but it was swallowed up in the noise from the club, and all you could do was stand there and stare at his retreating back.

-*-

XIII. Brian

Fuck, what game was he playing? What game were you playing?

He practically handed himself to you on a plate, and all you could do was get angry about it. Sometimes you didn�t understand yourself, and you strode out of the club, grunting at the doorman on the way past, and started down the street.

Across the road you stopped and leant against a lamp post, catching your breath, your anger fading as quickly as it had begun, replacing itself with something that felt horribly like self-disgust.

First you had wanted him, and now you didn�t? It barely made any sense, especially to your cock sitting half-hard in your pants, throbbing painfully, almost as if it was there just to remind you of how much an idiot you could be sometimes.

But you knew what had happened in there, even if you could hardly bring yourself to admit to it. You had wanted him, you had always wanted him, and that would always be the fucking problem.

He had known exactly what to do to get you interested, and your body had reacted predictably to the sight, your cock standing to attention like a god damn homing device.

But it had played out as if the rest hadn�t existed, as if you could forget his temporary status and just fuck him hard, giving in to your lust. You wanted to, you still wanted to, and you wished for just one moment that you could make the decision for yourself, that your traitorous body wouldn�t react to him without your permission.

You looked up as he stumbled from the club, shirtless, his hair a mess, and caught sight of you immediately. You considered running but knew it would just make you look even more stupid than you already felt, so you stayed where you were, leaning heavily against the cold metal behind you, and watched his approach.

"Hey," he said softly, and stopped in front of you, looking up into your face as if despite your own confusion he could cut through all the bullshit and see right to the heart of it all. To your heart.

You wished for just once that you could truly resist, proving to yourself and everyone around you, including him, that you didn�t need him as much as you knew you did.

"Hey." You looked back at him, studying him in the light. He really was beautiful.

"I�m sorry," he said, and ran one hand through his hair, combing it with his fingers. It had grown longer again and you really liked it like that. "I didn�t realize that you didn�t want me. If I�d known--"

You cut him off with a kiss, the only parts of you touching him were your lips. It was forceful, and closed mouthed, telling him to shut up and never stop talking all at once.

"I do want you," you admitted, when you pulled back, and you looked away from him for a second, watching as the guy who had been cruising you earlier left the club with his arm around someone else. "That�s the problem here, Sunshine. I just want you too much." You looked back at him, and he had a serious expression on his face.

"I know," he said, nodding. "I know how that feels, to want something so badly it aches, all the while knowing that if you took it then you would ache even more afterwards."

You could see his education hadn�t gone to waste.

You nodded back, tight lipped. "I�m just not sure I can do it anymore."

"Fucking me?" he asked, tilting his head to one side. "You don�t have to. I mean�"

"Yes, I know. You leave soon. But I didn�t mean that. I meant�" You took a deep breath. "I don�t think I can fuck you anymore without feeling something. I can�t separate my feelings from the rest."

He stared at you intently, his eyes wide and bright, almost as if twin light bulbs had been switched on in his head.

"And that�s why you trick."

Bingo. It wasn�t even a question. He didn�t have to ask. He had known, probably a long time before you had, that as well as tricking providing an easy release, when you started falling for him, even if you hadn�t been aware of it at the time, tricking was your way of keeping yourself grounded, of being able to obtain pleasure without dealing with the shaky ground of feeling emotion, something that had scared you every single time it had happened.

But you always went back for more.

You didn�t bother answering. You didn�t have to and you both knew the truth. He smiled softly, reaching up to trace a finger over your cheek.

"For someone who likes things to be simple, you have a horrible habit of complicating everything," he said.

You snorted in reply and he looked up suddenly at the lamp post behind your head, and started laughing.

"What?" You furrowed your brow as if he had gone mad.

"This is where we first met," he said, indicating behind you. "I was standing where you are now, and you came over to me and started talking."

You nodded. It seemed fitting somehow, for the roles to be reversed. That night he had been the one stumbling around, knowing he wanted something but not quite sure how to go about getting it, nervous and slightly confused, but determined to see it through until the bitter end.

And you had found him, confidence smeared all over your face, and lured him back for sex, playing at teacher as you tried to show him everything you knew, tried to make it so good that he would never be able to forget.

"It�s the opposite now," he said, smiling, and you knew he just meant the positions, so you smiled back.

But it was so much more than that, and you felt young and na�ve suddenly, a confused kid leaning against a lamp post, catching your breath, waiting for someone to come along and save you from yourself, suddenly approached by a much wiser man who already knew where he was at, and what he could share with you if only you gave in and let yourself.

Justin shivered and you noticed for the first time that he had left his shirt behind in the club. You shrugged out of your jacket and pulled it over his shoulders. It was too big for him, the sleeves hanging down over his hands, and it made him look about five years younger.

He smiled at you and held out his hand. "Are you coming, or are you going?" he said, taking you back again to that first night. He refrained from adding on the rest of the innuendo, and for that you were grateful.

"I�m coming," you declared, and took his hand.

-*-

Epilogue.

Some people say that sex is everything, that it can make or break a relationship, but Justin only partly agrees.

He knows that with a libido like his, it would be foolish to enter into a relationship with someone who couldn�t keep up, leaving them both frustrated and angry.

But he doesn�t think that sex is the most important thing, and he knows he could manage without. Sometimes he thinks it�s better to just lie there with him, listening to him breathing, and occasionally sharing a kiss.

He has always considered sex to be one of the nicer parts of having a steady partner, but sometimes, like now, when he doesn�t know what label to use, when boyfriend is too permanent for someone who is going away, and fuck buddy implies that there is sex to be had, with very little other merit to be found, he realizes that in the grand scheme of things, it means very little.

Just having the chance to be with him, the intensity of their feelings both intoxicating and possibly ultimately deadly, that is what he feels matters the most.

That he has been able to spend this time with him before he says his last goodbyes.
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

After the End