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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Prologue.

Some people say that the best things in life are free, and it�s pretty obvious that they aren�t talking about the generous amounts of shots handed out on opening night at Babylon. It�s obvious they are referring to concepts such as companionship, trust, and love. Romanticized ideals that apparently everyone aims for.

But even though it�s true that money can�t buy you happiness, it helps to make you a little less sad. Food, shelter, clothing, drugs: all the considered essentials cost money, and, if there is any truth in Maslow�s �hierarchy of needs� theory, when those needs aren�t met then luxuries such as achievement and life-long companions mean very little.

Real life tends to run on money, and all things considered, it�s a rather effective system. Besides, what�s money other than a bartering tool? It�s far less of a risk than vague, abstract concepts such as intimacy and devotion.

Those are the things that have a tendency to cost too much.

-*-

I. Brian

You sat on the floor in your suit, aware of the absurdity of the situation. You unbuttoned your cuffs and rolled up your sleeves, as if you knew before he had even opened his mouth that this was going to get messy.

You weren�t quite sure why you had agreed to this in the first place, beyond, of course, your desire to get away from the house as quickly as possible and back to Babylon where you could erase the encounter from your mind with a swift, hard fuck.

You didn�t allow yourself to linger on the thought that perhaps a small part of you wanted to hear what he had to say. That perhaps even needed to hear it in the same way you needed to push your way past the fire fighters milling around Babylon on the night of the bombing. You needed to know the truth, even though you realized that there was an overwhelmingly large chance that the coin wouldn�t land with its face in your favor.

And anyway, you hated waiting. You had never been particularly good at it. You considered it quintessentially British, and while it was something you could admire from afar when it was a quality applied to a man such as Penhaligon, the owner of one of the London accounts, his clipped, perfect accent ringing in your ears as you had fucked him against your desk, it had never been a quality you had aspired to have for yourself.

It seemed such a god damn irony that now you had finally agreed to this conversation, Justin was hell bent on making you wait.

"Well?" you asked, when fifteen minutes had passed, and your thoughts had become so loud you no longer had any desire to listen to them.

His head snapped up and he looked across at you, something like confusion clouding his face.

"I don�t know where to begin," he said.

-*-

II. Justin

The trouble with telling someone that you want to talk is that you have to actually go through with opening your mouth and letting the words spill out.

You knew that you needed to do this, quite possibly for longer than you cared to think about, maybe even years, but you hadn�t really stopped to consider what you would actually say when you got to this point.

You thought that the hardest part would be letting him know that you wanted to talk with him. You had gotten so wrapped up in trying to figure out the steps that would finish the awkward dance you had been sharing with him since you had gotten back, one so unlike the apparently easy moves of the prom-you-will-never-remember, that you had forgotten to think past actually opening your mouth and blurting out those first words.

It was even more awkward now, you thought as you watched him out of the corner of your eye, sitting there in his expensive suit, looking so horribly untouchable. It was obvious that he was waiting for you to begin, and you supposed that was fair considering you were the one who brought it up.

The again, if you had waited for him to say something first you would have been celebrating your fortieth birthday by now.

"Honestly, why did you ask me to marry you?" you said, before you even realized you had opened your mouth.

Oh perfect. The best way to handle Brian, if you didn�t want him to bolt, was to ease him into it slowly, deepening the conversation inch by inch until you were so submerged he wouldn�t be able to escape.

You couldn�t even get that right.

-*-

III. Brian

Good one, Justin. Hit with a fatal blow early on and bleed me dry from the start.

You stared at him, incredulous that he would aim for the heart.

"Don�t you dare fucking sully it like that!"

You recalled Debb�s words at the diner and bit back the sarcastic urge to ask him �why not?�

"I hear that�s what people do when they love someone," you chose instead, which you considered a more than adequate response.

He tilted his head back and looked at you as if he could deduce more from the look on your face than by your words.

You kept your expression perfectly blank.

"But why then specifically?" he replied. "I know what you told me about realizing you would do anything for the man you loved, but it still seems�" he gestured with one hand, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Out of character?" you supplied, and he nodded.

You cracked your knuckles and thought about that. It was out of character, you knew that, and for the most part it was a gesture you had made because you knew how badly he had wanted it. But you couldn�t deny that when you had asked him, you had wanted it too, just a little bit. Not the big romantic ceremony with rose petals and harps, although you would have gladly acquiesced on those if he had asked for them, but it had been about doing something to make you know he would be with you always.

You weren�t stupid enough to think that a few simple vows and pathetically cheesy photographs of the pair of you in a suit would keep him safe. There would always be the risk of another idiot with a grand idea of stamping out a few queers. It wasn�t about that. It was about knowing that wherever you went, whoever you fucked, no matter how crappy your day had been, at the end of it you could expect to see his day-glow smile.

How the fuck were you supposed to articulate that?

You hated words right then, and hated more that he needed them. You considered them easy to drop, altogether worthless when lined up next to gestures. Those you were fond of.

So why the hell were the words so hard to speak?

You looked back across at him, his head propped up in one hand as he gazed at you expectantly. It was so tempting to reach across the space and bring him close, erasing the need for words with a kiss. You knew it wouldn�t take much for him to give in, and eventually he would relax against you with a sigh, and forget he had ever asked.

He blinked and brushed his hair away from his face. So fucking tempting.

But you just couldn�t do it.

"I need a fucking drink."

You stood up and marched to the front door, your car keys jangling in your pocket.

-*-

IV. Justin

You stared after him as he headed to the door, your mouth slightly open. He�d barely said a few words and already he was leaving?

Shit.

You slumped backwards as the door closed behind him, and took another swig of J.D. You already had drink.

On one hand, you weren�t particularly surprised; he wasn�t exactly known for his wonderful communication skills, but then, he had agreed to the conversation in the first place, which you had taken as a sign he would actually stay for the duration.

You sighed and glanced around. At least he had left now, at the start, which was considerably better than waiting until you had fumbled around trying to find the right words, making a twat of yourself in the process, and then giving you that look he gives you, as if you�re half crazy, and then leaving anyway.

At least this way you didn�t have to see the horror written across his face.

You eye was caught by his coat and you inwardly cursed. Now you�d have to see him again, if only for a few moments, and that wasn�t exactly something you particularly wanted to do, not when he�d left the way he had.

You frowned and pulled yourself to your feet, grabbing the coat on the way to the door. It was probably too late to try and catch up with him - at least ten minutes had passed - and you couldn�t imagine he was sitting out there on the drive, his head against the steering wheel, fighting with himself over whether he should drive away, but it was worth a try. Handing the coat back in private was preferable to shoving it at him in the diner and then putting up with everyone�s questions as to why you had it in the first place.

You pulled open the door and stepped outside. His car had gone. You let out a breath, glancing around the side of the building as if you expected to see him peering back at you, playing some fucked up game of hide-and-seek, and shook your head at how pathetic you were being, standing there in the cold dark evening, pining over some jerk who obviously had better things to do than spend some serious time with you.

As you turned to go back inside, your ears perked up at the sound of an engine, and you looked down the drive, blinking as his corvette came towards you.

The door slammed as he got out, and he cocked his head curiously at you. "No need for you to wait out here for me," he said, and he eyed his coat. "It�s not going to keep you warm in your arms, is it?"

You gaped at him, your brows furrowed. "Where did you�? I thought you had�"

He held up a bag emblazoned with a liquor store logo, and gave you a wide smile. "Don�t be stupid, Sunshine," he said softly, and slung his free arm over your shoulders, steering you back into the house.

You felt slightly dazed as you let him lead you back inside.

"I thought we could do with some more supplies," he told you. "It sounded like it was going to be a long night."

The fucking asshole had gone out for alcohol and he hadn�t seen it fit to tell you he was actually coming back.

You carefully folded his coat back over the chair and resumed your seat on the floor in front of the fire, watching as he pulled a bottle of Beam and a couple of packs of cigarettes from the bag. He flopped out beside you and nudged your knee.

"Chinese food will be here in half an hour," he said, with a cheeky smile.

-*-

V. Brian

You were shocked when you saw him standing outside, that look of dejection on his face. You couldn�t quite believe he actually thought that you weren�t coming back, but you didn�t want to think about that too much, unsure whether you had the right to be slightly annoyed that he had doubted you in the first place.

You pulled out a cigarette and stuck it between your lips, lighting it, and watched with barely concealed curiosity as he wiped the bewildered look off his face.

Right. Better to get straight to the point. You�d had a little time to think about it as you had driven the half mile to the liquor store, and your answer still hadn�t changed. For you it was simple, and you didn�t know how else you could say it.

"Let�s just say I came around to the idea, " you told him, picking up where you had left off. "I realized that marriage didn�t have to mean staying in all the time doing annoyingly heterosexual things like decorating the living room together."

He gave you a look, which you promptly tried to ignore.

"I figured we had made our own rules up about sex, so why not that too?" you continued, and tapped the ash from your cigarette into the fire.

"Then why did you have to go and get all monogamous about it?" he asked.

Christ, what did he have to go and bring that up for?

"I thought that�s what you wanted," you replied. "You know that." You sat up a bit and unscrewed the top off your Beam and took a gulp. "Why do we have to go over old ground?"

He shrugged, toying with the hem of his sleeve, and looked up at you. "I consider it important," he said quietly. "It�s what made me go."

You shifted and looked away from the heat of his gaze. "I thought you went to chase your dreams."

"That was mostly why," he conceded. "But I think knowing that it wasn�t just me sacrificing what I wanted gave me the final push."

"I see." You took another drag on your cigarette, watching the little smoke rings as you blew them up towards the ceiling.

Justin crossed his legs and reached for the J.D. "Why didn�t you try and stop me?"

"Did you want me to?"

Suddenly you were fascinated by the far wall.

"No. Well, yes. Sort of."

You snorted and risked a glance at him. He was staring intently into the fire, a look of fierce concentration on his face. "Well, which is it?" you asked.

"I wouldn�t have stayed even if you had," he replied, sounding forceful. "But it would have been nice to have been asked."

You swallowed and looked away from him again. You would have asked. Hell, you wanted to ask, but you couldn�t. You refused to do that to him. In your eyes, Justin had made his own decision, had his own reasons, and there was nothing more you would allow yourself to say to try and change that. He�s spent too long doing what he thought was right by you.

"Brian?"

You hadn�t realized he had been expecting you to say something, and you raised one eyebrow at him.

"You could have called."

You rolled your eyes. You�d already had this conversation with him, albeit drunk.

"So could you," you said.

"I did!" There, that fire behind his eyes again, setting them ablaze with that fierce blue. "I left a million messages that you never returned."

"Didn�t see much point."

He sighed and sat in silence for a few moments, his head ducked a little, hair spilling over his face. "Didn�t you want to speak to me?" he asked in a small voice.

You shook your head, hating that tone. It was miserable, borderline whiny, and it got to you every single fucking time.

"Don�t be like that, Sunshine," you told him. "It just seemed counter-productive for both of us."

He glanced up from under his fringe. "You mean it would have interfered with the grand plan of �getting on with our lives�"? He sounded bitter.

"Something like that." You tossed your cigarette into the fire.

"Just because I left," he said, looking at you as if something important had just occurred to him, "doesn�t mean I changed the way I felt about you."

That�s when the doorbell rang: your saving grace.

-*-

VI. Justin

You hated Chinese. You didn�t care how good it tasted or how much you liked eating out of the little cartons with chopsticks. You especially didn�t care about the way Brian parted his lips and wrapped his tongue around each bite, drawing it into his mouth like it was the most erotic experience of his life.

At that moment, all you cared about was it interrupting you just when you felt you were getting somewhere with him.

Well, fuck, you were determined to get it back.

You put down your box of chicken chow-mein (he always remembered what you liked) and wiped your mouth with a napkin.

"Nearly everyone told me I should go," you said, and waited for him to look up before you continued. "They all said that it was an opportunity of a lifetime, that I could really make something of myself."

"You have."

"I do okay," you shrugged.

Brian scoffed. "You do more than okay. Or so I�ve been told."

There: a chink in the armour.

"You�ve been keeping track?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Sometimes," he replied. "I�ll read a review if it gets passed my way."

You laughed and raised both eyebrows at him. "That�s so like you!"

"What is?" he looked a little confused.

"You didn�t call or visit. You blatantly ignored the invitation to my first show, and every single one since, but yet you couldn�t resist keeping track of my progress in secret."

"Yeah, well." he sniffed a bit. "Had to see what all my money was going to. So few people use what little education they have."

You snorted, obscenely delighted at this tiny gesture. It had always been the same with Brian. He liked to maintain a clean mask of indifference but then he�d go and do something like the Liberty Ride not long after he had recovered from cancer. Or after the bashing when you were so sure he wouldn�t even see you again, and then a few weeks later there you were living at the loft while he tried to rebuild your memory. Or the time during the Stockwell campaign where he got himself into serious debt to run those TV ads.

And even now, pretending it was okay you left, okay that he didn�t call and never once came to see you, and yet all the time while he was reading your reviews.

And holding onto the house.

-*-

VII. Brian

There it was again, that blinding million-watt smile stretching his mouth from ear to ear. He was obviously pleased you had paid some interest in how his lofty dreams were being realized.

It was kind of stupid, you thought, to think that you wouldn�t be interested, but you supposed you had maintained that impression. It wouldn�t do to appear enthusiastic because although you could reluctantly admit to yourself that every time he received another perfect review citing him as the new Picasso, you were proud of him, you also lost a little more hope. What the fuck would he have to come back for if everything he needed was in New York? Then again, you hadn�t expected him to return.

You knew that if you were in his position then you wouldn�t.

"Sunshine," you said, setting down your chopsticks and picking up your Beam. "It�s all very nice to have this little conversation, but what exactly are you trying to achieve here?"

He frowned and chewed on his bottom lip, looking a little uneasy.

"All we have done so far is go around in circles," you told him, "talking about things that have long gone."

"I just needed some clarification," he said, ignoring your gaze.

"The past," you declared, "should stay in the past. What�s the point in spending time thinking about things that can�t be changed?"

You thought about what you could have done differently every single day. The answer was always the same: nothing.

"I suppose I just thought the air needed to be cleared," he said, and speared a piece of chicken on the end of one of his chopsticks. "I didn�t want the rest of my stay to be as awkward as it has been so far."

You didn�t know why that angered you but it did. Perhaps it was how selfish it sounded. He wanted an easy vacation, but you couldn�t be too mad about that. You�d always said he needed to start looking out for number one.

Perhaps it was the reminder that this was only temporary, a short interlude between high flying art shows and days spent in his studio, his shirt covered in paint as he made love to the canvas.

You snorted at the idea of it, but it wasn�t that far from the truth. Justin had always had a love affair with his art, from the soft, secure, sometimes timid relationship you witnessed when you first met him; through the fierce anger after the bashing when he wrestled minute by minute to manipulate his pencil; to the passionate ferocity which he used when he finally came into his own, his paint slipping across the canvas like garish kisses, his eyes roaming over his work in an intimate way you only ever recall seeing directed at one other thing: yourself.

You shivered slightly as you recalled all the times he would turn his eyes to your body like that, sweeping his gaze down over your chest, caressing your nipples, then dipping lower, studying the sharp edges of your hips and the way your cock jutted out from its dark nest of pubic hair as if it was beckoning him over.

You blinked and stood up as you realized that all this time, despite how much you admired his talent, how much you loved watching him create, a small part of you was jealous in a way you had never experienced before. You weren�t jealous because he had skill and ability - you had plenty of that yourself in a wide variety of areas - you were jealous of the relationship he had with his art, one which you could never penetrate.

You recognized certain similarities between the way he treated his paintings and how sometimes he had treated you: from the dainty precise strokes of watercolour that mirrored his gentle touches during your visit with cancer, to the emblazoned hands-everywhere approach of his abstract oils; mouth, tongue and teeth everywhere on your body.

You found yourself growing unbearably hard.

"Well, Sunshine, this has been lovely," you told him, barely bothering to keep the sarcasm out of your voice. "But I think it�s probably time for me to be leaving."

He was on his feet faster than you could get to the door, and he blocked your path.

"Stay," he said, looking up at you with that serious, earnest expression on his face that always made you wonder whether he was actually thirty years older than he said he was.

"Why?" you asked, staring back, unable to pull your eyes away, your pants annoyingly tight.

And that�s when he kissed you.

-*-

VIII. Justin

You loved kissing Brian. You hadn�t exactly had much experience with kissing before you met him: just once with Daphne when you were fifteen, and a couple of people during a boring game of spin-the-bottle at someone�s party. Lucy McDonald had tried to stick her tongue so far down your throat you thought she was mining for gold, and you realized with a sudden jolt of clarity, that girls just simply wouldn�t do.

Brian�s first kiss was explosive, and it dawned on you that there was an exquisite art behind it, one which you badly longed to learn.

It was a language, a physical communication that spoke louder than any words you had ever exchanged.

That first time screamed, painting the inside of your mouth with his tongue. "I�m in control," it had said. "Do you want to come along for the ride?"

So you had.

Later, when he was taking your virginity, the kisses spoke more incessantly, a quiet, unrelenting buzz that was like a mantra, peppering your mouth with "It�s okay.", "I won�t hurt you.", "Relax.", "You�ll like this." ,"Trust me to make it good." ,"I want you."

You think maybe that�s partly why you told Daphne that Brian was God. He had this mysterious new form of communication that sang out to you like the fucking Pied Piper. They were hot, breathless kisses, intoxicating, and you had drowned in every single one as he left his mark on your body that night.

Then later, you discovered there were even more ways in which kisses could speak: "Good morning.", "Hello.", "I have to be going now.", "Did you have a good day?" The routine kisses that each showed you he had been thinking of you. Ethan�s kisses were never like that. His always spoke of concern for his own performance, clinical in their determination to get the level of passion correct.

Then there were the monumental type of kisses, the ones you kept inside your internal scrapbook to pour over on the days Brian wasn�t there. Kisses after the bashing when you finally allowed him to enter you: "I�m here, Sunshine. It�s okay, you�re safe."

The kisses he showered you with after you had been apart for more than a few days: "I missed you, I want you, I�m glad you�re here with me."

The kiss after the bombing at Babylon, when he found you covered in soot, wrapped in a fire fighter�s jacket when he returned from seeing Mikey to the hospital: "Thank God you�re okay, I thought I�d lost you.", "I don�t know what I would have done�", "I love you. I LOVE YOU."

You remembered when you finally learned to use your own kisses like that, telling him what he would never believe if you had used words. It was after Ethan, when you were determined to get Brian back, and he told you to get some balls. You grabbed him and kissed him fiercely, placing yourself firmly on his level: "I want you and you WILL be mine."

And here, now, taking control again in the best way you knew how. There was no point in roughly pulling his arm and saying "Brian don�t go." Empty words, just like he had always said.

So you kissed him, taking him by surprise, italicizing his mouth with "I want this. I know you do too."

He didn�t respond for a moment, his arms loose at his sides, and then slowly one hand reached up and sunk itself into your hair, pulling your head back. He nipped at your bottom lip: "Give me one good reason."

You parted your lips and let him do what he wanted, pushing back with your tongue when his slipped into your mouth: "Because I�m yours."

-*-

IX Brian

It was pointless to resist, you knew that, but that hasn�t stopped you trying. Even before his drunken advances in the club, you knew that it would eventually come to this. No matter what your brain had been saying, your body always screamed �yes� and you were fed up with denying it. Perhaps you�d be better able to focus on the apparently important conversation that you had been completely unable to concentrate on with the persistent thrumming of your skin every time he was in the vicinity, as if you were made up of a bunch of iron filings and he was the magnet pulling you in towards his core.

You bit along his throat, leaving teeth marks in his skin, and gave yourself over to the anger coursing through your body. Anger at him for leaving, anger at yourself for not doing anything to try and make him stay. Anger that your god damn body couldn�t stop leaning towards his for five fucking minutes, hyper aware of his every movement.

Anger that it mattered so much.

You hitched up his shirt and ran a hand up his chest, smoothing over the familiar lines, and rolled one of his nipples between your fingers, pinching it.

He gasped and arched up towards your touch, his hands scrabbling down your back as you pushed him down onto the floor and covered his body with your own.

You wanted it to be fierce and rough. You wanted to give in to the longing for him, quieting the voices inside you that ached for him in a million different ways. You captured his bottom lip between your teeth and tugged on it, eliciting a hiss. He wanted it like this too - desperate, powerful, leaving bruises.

You tore at his pants, snapping them open, and sat up, tugging them down his legs. You threw them over your shoulder and batted his hands away from your own, and quickly got undressed yourself, pulling a condom out of your pocket.

You turned back to him, his underwear already off, and pressed your hips firmly against his, groaning at the first contact of his cock slipping against yours.

He ground against you, his fingers digging into your shoulders, and you quickly turned him over, taking a second to run a hand down over his ass. Your finger probed around his entrance and slipped into that tight heat. He groaned as if on cue, shoving himself down onto your hand, making your cock twitch.

You thrust your fingers in and out of him a couple of times, too much in a hurry to care about doing a thorough job of preparing him. You considered using your tongue instead, shoving it into the dark recesses of his body, losing yourself in that heady musk, but as you bent down to do so, removing your fingers and wrapping them around his prick, he grabbed your hand.

"Stop."

You blinked at him in disbelief. Surely, surely he wasn�t going to tell you he had changed his mind.

You focused on the pulsating of your cock, trying to reign in your desires just in case, when he turned to look at you over his shoulder, his blue eyes darkened with clouds of lust.

"Please," he said, his voice hoarse, trembling. "I just�" he licked lips. "Need you inside me. Now."

You nodded, trying to ignore the sudden lull in your frenzied race to fuck him, and grabbed hold of his hip with your free hand, positioning yourself behind him.

You pushed your way inside, your eyes falling closed with a moan that he mirrored, his body boring back against yours.

Fuck, you forget how good he felt, how easy it was to forget everything when you pushed your way past the tight coil of muscle at his entrance and slipped deeper, deeper inside of him, into the damp heat that ensnared you like nothing else ever could.

You swallowed hard and move forward again, sheathing yourself completely inside of him, and began to pull back agonizingly slowly, inch by perfect inch. You slammed back in and he cried out, his hands balling into fists, and dropped his head down between his arms, moving forward only to shove backwards again, meeting your thrusts.

You built up a steady pace, your hand moving to clench in his hair, keeping his body bent low, and angled your thrusts, determined to make this as good as you possibly could.

You fell quickly into a maddening rhythm, your body coaxing little verbal responses from his lips, his body as in tune to your demands as it always had been. You couldn�t think, you couldn�t focus, the only sounds the slapping of your balls against his ass, your fast, irregular breaths, and his mumbled cries, gasped out into the still of the room.

"Brian, Brian, Brian!"

He repeated your name over and over again as if you were the only thing that mattered, the only thing that could give him what he needed.

And in that moment you were.

-*-

X. Justin

It was uncanny how much your body remembered about him, even if your mind had decided to forget. It was as if he had imprinted himself so thoroughly that your body had just been waiting, frozen, for him to come and wake it up with a simple touch.

It felt so good to have him inside you, the familiar burning feeling of his cock, and you gave yourself over to it, the feel of him around you, inside you, over you.

Your orgasm built quickly, as you knew it would, and you squeezed your eyes shut, sinking into it, your mouth parting as you cried out his name again, trying to coax him into drawing you closer�

You came loudly, your hips jerking back against him, forcing him deep inside, and felt the nerves in your thighs twitch as you struggled to stay on your knees for him.

He wouldn�t take long now, you knew, never able to contain his own climax after you had reached yours, and you braced yourself for the familiar flooding heat not even latex could contain.

He grunted behind you, his hand dropping its grip on your cock, and he grabbed your hips forcefully, shoving his way into you over and over again, each thrust sending tiny ripples of pleasure through you as you began to come down from your own high.

And then he was coming himself, his low groan pulled from his throat, and you wished more than anything that you could see his face.

You tried to crane your neck, but you couldn�t quite see, so you let your forehead drop to the floor as you pushed against him, helping him through his release.

Then it was all over, and he rolled off, peeling the condom away and tossing it into the can next to the fire. He sank down on his back, next to you, his eyes still shut, and you watched him for a couple of seconds, committing his expression to memory so you could draw it another day.

"I guess I could stay," he said cheekily, and opened one eye, looking at you.

You just laughed.

-*-

XI. Brian

You�d never been particularly fond of the moments after sex. They were usually too awkward and you would much rather spend them alone than next to some stranger who had the sudden desire to talk about his life, as if what you had just shared had been of any significance.

Justin had never been much of a talker in the few minutes following sex, which was surprising because he seemed incapable of shutting up the rest of the time. His usual routine was just to lie there, catching his breath, which suited you just fine, and sometimes, like now, he had a smug little smile on his face, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

"What?" you asked him, raising one eyebrow.

He shrugged and sat up, reaching for some of the napkins that had come with your meal, and wiped the sticky mess off his stomach, handing you a few. "I knew we�d fuck."

You rolled your eyes. "No shit."

He seemed surprised at that, and propped himself up on his elbows, leaning back. "You knew we would too?"

"Of course," you replied, and balled up the used napkins before grabbing your cigarettes. "I knew you would try and get me to fuck you at some point this week. It was just a matter of whether I would give in or not."

Justin snorted and took the cigarette you were offering him. "You can never say no to sex."

"Yes I can." You gave him a look as if to say he had gall to suggest otherwise. "I just thought it would better for your mental state if I gave in."

He laughed at that. "My mental state?"

"You know how temperamental you artist types are," you said, waving one hand. "Who knows what you would have done if I had said no. You could have had a nervous breakdown."

"I was considering chaining you up if you had still insisted on leaving," he admitted sheepishly.

"Kinky!" you said, smiling, and took a drag on your cigarette, looking smug.

He simply rolled his eyes in response and watched his smoke coiling up towards the ceiling.

You smiled and turned your own head upwards. You liked it like this: careless banter tossed back and forth, conversation of no importance.

Not that you thought it would last long if the serious look on his face was anything to go by. Undoubtedly he would want to finish your �talk� before too long. But in the meantime, you were content to sit like this.

You ignored it when he shifted and rested his head on your shoulder, sighing contentedly.

-*-

XII. Justin

You liked to be close to him after sex, even if it was just your hand resting on his leg, or one of his shoved into your hair, playing with the strands. It was like you needed to be reminded that he was still there.

It wasn�t that fucking left you feeling particularly vulnerable - this had never happened with any other guy - but it seemed that no matter how animalistic sex with Brian was, there was still that familiar, interconnecting part of heart with brain that whispered that this was the only man you really wanted to be around.

He let you rest your head against his shoulder as you knew he would, but he didn�t attempt to touch you back.

"Brian?" you asked, and glanced up at his face.

"Hmm?"

"You know I�m still going back, right?"

He stiffened slightly but his expression remained the same, his eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling. "I know," he said.

You nodded and took another drag on your cigarette. "Good, because I didn�t want you to think this changed anything."

"Sunshine," he said, and turned his gaze to look at you. "I know it was just a fuck."

He used that expression a lot, especially after you had first met. It was what Brian did: fuck. He didn�t let anything as messy as emotions complicate things.

You knew that when it came to you it was all one big fat lie.

"Of course," you said, and you both lapsed into silence as you finished smoking.

He was the first to move, and he carefully shifted you off him and tossed his cigarette into the fire. He stood up and retrieved his pants, pulling them on.

"I�m glad things are sorted now," you told him, aware that if anything, you had managed to complicate things even further.

He grunted.

"So, we�re okay then?" you asked, looking at his back. "It won�t go back to being weird while I�m here. You�re fine with seeing me?"

He turned and looked down at you, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Sure," was all he said, with a single shrug.

-*-

XIII. Brian

Fucking twat, did he really think it was okay now? Personally, you thought you had a new entry for �number one mistake�.

What the hell had gotten into your head that made you think it was a good idea to fuck him? You knew the answer to that one, naturally. It was blonde and distinctively Justin-shaped.

You thought it was a good idea because you had wanted him so badly you could barely concentrate on anything else. You had wanted him so much that you had allowed yourself to think that it was a good way of removing the tension that had existed between you for the last few days; tension so strong that you could almost taste it.

In a way, you supposed it had done its job. Your body was quiet and relaxed for the time being, and you could look at him without imagining the feeling of his muscles clenching around you as you pushed your way into his body.

But it had made other things much worse. You wanted to touch him and keep on touching him. You wanted to wrap your arms around him from behind and rest your chin on his shoulder. You wanted to be able to pull him into a kiss whenever you wanted, or just loop your arm over his shoulders when he came up to you in the diner and sank into a seat by your side.

You knew those things were forbidden. It was one thing fucking him, because you could both write it off as something you did. You fucked other people so why not each other? You both enjoyed it, you both craved it, so why not give in? It was just a basic urge after all. It didn�t mean anything.

Yeah, right.

Touches, little kisses without the intention of sex, and arm around his waist, they were all indications of something else. Of possession. Of belonging. Of being together.

You weren�t going to go down that route of playing boyfriends when everyone around you was perfectly aware that he would be leaving again soon. It would just be a pretence, and you�d never been particularly good at keeping those up around him. It would just make you feel too much, and that wasn�t something you needed when you�d only just learned how not to again.

You picked up your shirt and stretched. "It�s late," you said. "I�m going upstairs to get some sleep."

You didn�t ask him to join you and he didn�t suggest it either.

"Alright," he said with a small shrug. "I think I�m going to stay up for a bit."

You nodded and left the room before he had a chance to say anything else.

-*-

Epilogue.

Some people say that sex can fix most things, that an orgasm is a good release no matter what the situation, and if this was like any other time, Justin would probably agree.

Sex with Brian was always good, there was no denying that. A person would have to be crazy not to enjoy it. But it wasn�t always quite as simple as that.

Sometimes he thinks that he would have been better off not knowing how good it could be, how he always felt like he belonged in that space underneath Brian, stretching up to capture his mouth in a kiss in the moments of post-climax, because then he wouldn�t crave it when he stopped having it.

And he wouldn�t find himself lying naked on the floor at four in the morning, surrounded by left-over Chinese, tears rolling down his face.
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