Brian Kinney walked to the door of the ballroom and looked inside. Dozens of teenage couples were dancing together under the watchful eyes of the elegantly-dressed chaperones, while dozens of other couples sat and talked or looked around nervously. As soon as he spotted the person he’d come to see, he strode confidently into the room. Once inside, he paused briefly to have a look around before continuing his journey.

Daphne saw Brian first and pointed him out to Justin, who turned just in time to see the older man walking toward him. The teenager couldn’t stop a smile from spreading over his face as he looked up. "I thought you said you wouldn’t be caught dead in a room full of eighteen-year-olds." He sounded like he was trying to tease.

Despite his attempt to look nonchalant, Brian’s eyes devoured his young lover, drinking in the sight of the young body clad in formal wear. His mind was already devising original ways of getting him out of that tux. "I thought I’d recapture my lost youth." Daphne stood at Justin’s elbow, looking uncomfortable. Brian glanced down at her. "You look hot, Daphne." He kissed her hair. "I’d fuck you."

"Y-you too, Brian," she stammered, smiling up at the older man.

"Do you mind if I borrow your date?" Brian was still talking to Daphne, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Justin. Without saying a word, she took a step back and gave in to the inevitable. Brian took Justin’s hand - the first time they’d touched - and led him to the middle of the dance floor. The music began and everyone paused, staring at the unusual couple who started moving together.

Neither of them was aware of their status as the center of attention; as far as they were concerned, there were only two people in the room. Brian took the white scarf from around his neck and draped it around Justin’s. Holding the slender body close, he looked into the face of a boy who was, in some ways, more of a man than he’d ever been. The walls he’d erected around himself were impenetrable, or so he thought, until Justin entered his life and began laying waste to all his defenses.

Walls and defenses were the last thing on Brian’s mind as he smiled down at his dancing partner. Their movements were graceful, despite the fact that they had only danced like this a few times, very late at night. Justin had mentioned, in a silly moment, that he’d taken ballroom dancing lessons at his parents’ club when he was fourteen. Yes, he admitted, he’d had a crush on the instructor, a friend of his mother’s named George, but he’d enjoyed it and had been told that he was a great dancer. ‘He was probably a pedophile, Justin, and he was trying to get into your pants,’ Brian had commented. When Justin didn’t respond to his teasing, he’d dropped it, but they didn’t stop dancing.

Brian held nothing back as he twirled Justin, then grasped him tightly. Leaning his head forward, Brian was about to kiss Justin when the younger man snaked his hands under his jacket, caressing his chest through the black shirt. Darting behind his lover, Justin removed the jacket and tossed it to Daphne, who stood nearby, beaming. Another twirl for good measure, and then Brian moved forward as he held Justin tightly, dipping him like he’d seen Fred Astaire do in those old movies. Justin laughingly played along, bending his leg in a perfect imitation of Ginger Rogers.

The song was nearing the end. Much to his surprise, Brian was disappointed. In the midst of making a daring gesture for Justin, he discovered he was enjoying himself immensely; he wished the dance could go on longer. In a moment of joy, Brian grasped Justin tightly, lifting him off the floor slightly. He wanted to show everyone - once and for all - that Justin belonged to him, and how special he was. These people had abused him, both physically and verbally, they had treated him with disrespect and they didn’t deserve to even know him.

Brian set Justin back down on the floor. Leaning forward, he covered the younger man’s mouth with his. Justin reciprocated enthusiastically. The kiss lasted a long minute: neither of them seemed to want it to end.

When Brian pulled back, he was as happy as he’d ever been in his life. He was aware that he had a silly smile on his face, but he didn’t care. Grabbing Justin’s hand again, he pulled him through the crowd and toward the door.

They practically ran through the hallway and to the parking garage. Brian had retrieved his jacket and put it on; Justin had loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. As they moved along, he sang snippets of lines from the song they’d danced to, "Don’t forget... who’s taking... you home..." They were both laughing. "Did you see their faces?"

Justin’s joy was contagious. "Yeah," Brian replied. "We gave them a prom they’ll never forget."

"Me neither." Brian shifted so that Justin was leaning against the Jeep. "It’s the best night of my life."

"Even if it was ridiculously romantic." It wasn’t a question. It was a simple statement of what had happened: Brian Kinney, gay devil incarnate, had just made a spectacle of himself in front of a bunch of high school students. He might live to regret it... one day, but not tonight.

Brian pressed his body against Justin’s; he could feel the younger man’s erection against his thigh. He had to fight the urge to push him into the Jeep and rip his clothes off. Patience, he told himself. Leaning his head forward, he was about to kiss him, then he paused. He looked deeply into Justin’s eyes, silently asking permission to continue. Justin’s face glowed with love as he closed his eyes, inviting Brian’s kiss. When the kiss was over, Justin sniffled quietly. His allergies, no doubt, Brian thought, as he took a step back. "Later," he said.

"Later," Justin breathed, as he started walking backwards, unable to stop looking at the man who was getting into the Jeep. Laughing, he turned and walked toward the door that led back to the ballroom.

Brian sat down in the Jeep and closed the door. He put the key in the ignition, then looked in the mirror, unable to leave until Justin was out of sight.

As Brian watched the retreating figure, he became aware of a shadow behind the other side of the Jeep, moving toward Justin. Without thinking, he opened the car door. "Justin!"

Justin turned around, a questioning look on his face. The other figure paused, half-turning. Brian recognized his face: it was the little prick Justin had confronted in front of Woody’s weeks ago. Why was he hanging around here and what was he carrying? It looked like some kind of weapon.

"Hey!" Before his brain had time to process what he saw, Brian was moving toward the rear of the Jeep. The other teenager hurried back into the shadows, leaving Brian and Justin alone again. Brian forced his voice to sound calm. "I-I decided I don’t want to wait ‘til later." He held out his hand. "Come home with me now?"

Justin covered the short distance between them in a flash. Brian wrapped his arms around the young man, his heart beating rapidly. He wasn’t sure Justin had even seen his classmate or what he had in his hand. "I can’t leave Daph here alone, Brian."

"Doesn’t she have her car?" Brian continued embracing Justin, unable to relinquish his hold.

"Yeah, but *I’m* the one who asked *her*--" The rest of the sentence was lost when Brian leaned forward, covering Justin’s mouth with his again. The young man moaned lushly as Brian’s tongue teased his playfully. When the kiss ended, Justin looked up, his eyes bright. "I’ll be right back." He attempted to disengage himself from his lover’s embrace.

"Where are you going?" Brian refused to allow Justin to walk away.

"I can’t leave without telling her where we’re going." Brian allowed Justin to lead the way back to the ballroom, although he continued holding his hand.

Five minutes later, Brian climbed back into the Jeep and started the ignition. Justin was quiet during the trip home, but it was a comfortable silence; words seemed unnecessary. Daphne had decided to stay at the dance, chatting with her friend, Alison, who had had a fight with her boyfriend and needed a sympathetic ear. Justin had kissed her on the cheek and promised to call her Saturday.

Justin removed his jacket and was tugging at his tie as he followed Brian through the front door of the loft. Brian turned around to close the door. "Don’t take your clothes off yet." Justin looked surprised at the request, but did as he was told.

Brian moved quickly, lighting candles in both the bedroom and the living room before fetching a bottle from the refrigerator and bringing it to the counter. Justin joined him as he popped the cork and poured champagne into crystal flutes. He set the bottle on the counter, handed Justin a glass and raised his. "Yesterday is gone and tomorrow never comes. All we have is right now, this minute. I want you here with me, for as long as you want to stay..." He tapped his glass lightly against the other glass.

"Oh, Brian!" They drained their glasses and set them down. Justin moved forward, devouring Brian’s mouth as he pressed his body against his lover’s. He pushed Brian’s jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor, then started attacking his shirt buttons.

"Stop!" Brian grabbed Justin’s hands. "I’m not ready to get naked yet. I want us to dance one more time." Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the teenager across the floor and started the stereo. The music that filled the room was slow and melodic and the two bodies moved as one.

The dance lasted almost three songs before Justin paused and looked up at his lover. "I don’t want you to think I’m not enjoying this, but I can’t wait any longer. I want you to fuck me, Brian."

A minute later, Brian pulled back from yet another kiss. "No."

Justin stopped moving. "What do you mean ‘no’? I thought you wanted me."

Placing his hands on the young man’s ass, Brian crushed their groins together. "I *do* want you, but there will be no fucking here tonight." Justin’s face was a mask of confusion. "We’re going to do something we’ve never done - we’re going to make love." The confusion turned to relief and joy. "But first..." Taking Justin’s hand, Brian led him to the bedroom. "We have to get you out of those clothes..."

Justin’s hands were pulling at the tux; Brian grabbed them again. "But we’re going to do it slowly..." The young man quickly picked up on what his lover wanted him to do. They started moving again, in rhythm to the music. Slowly, they took turns removing one item of clothing at a time, being careful to kiss each newly exposed patch of skin.

By the time they tumbled, naked, on the bed, their breathing was ragged. Brian was sure they wouldn’t last long this time, but that was okay. They had all night, every night, to explore every one of their fantasies. Lying on his back, he pulled Justin over to lie on top of him. Their erections slid together perfectly as they began thrusting. Brian pushed a moistened finger in Justin’s anus, eliciting a moan from him. Justin sucked Brian’s tongue into his mouth, biting it as he cried out.

Justin’s very demonstrative orgasm pushed Brian over the edge as well. Their juices mingled together, as their kisses became more languid.

"We need a shower, Brian." Justin was still lying on top of his lover. Brian’s only answer was a yawn. "You’re not going to go to sleep all wet and sticky, are you?"

"That’s exactly what I’m going to do." He wrapped his arms around the slight body, hoping it would sufficiently discourage him from getting up.

"Okay, but I can’t go to sleep on top of you like this." Brian relinquished his tight embrace and Justin slid over to lie beside the older man.

Brian refused to allow Justin to break contact. "Where do you think you’re going? I want you right here, beside me."

Justin tucked his head against Brian’s neck, wrapping himself around the body of his lover’s. The last sound Brian heard before he went to sleep was a very contented sigh coming from the vicinity of his chest.

#####

When Brian woke up, it was light outside, although it looked to be early. He looked around. None of the candles he lit last night were still burning. They must have gone out during the night, he thought, or maybe Justin blew them out.

Justin.

He wasn’t in their bed, or anywhere else Brian could see.

He probably woke up earlier, Brian thought, and decided to take a shower. Brian listened for the sound of water running, but it was silent in the apartment. Justin can be quiet when he wants to be, Brian thought, but this is ridiculous. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was alone--

Brian sat up and looked around. He didn’t see any of the clothes he and Justin had scattered around the bedroom the night before. There was neither a champagne bottle nor glasses on the counter in the kitchen.

I need a cigarette, Brian decided, but there were none lying around the room. Scrambling off the bed, he located his jacket draped over the couch and started going through pockets. What’s this? he wondered, as he felt something soft in the pocket. Pulling it out, he held it up. The shock of recognition hit him like a punch in the gut: it was a white silk scarf, encrusted with dried blood.

Justin’s blood.

Brian’s knees buckled and he collapsed onto the floor; his tears mingled with the dried blood as he clutched the scarf to his face. He closed his eyes, reliving the events of the night before: his grand entrance, the dance and their triumphant exit. He could hear Justin saying, ‘It’s the best night of my life,’ as they stood together next to the Jeep in the parking garage. He could see the silly smile on Justin’s face as he turned to go back to the ballroom, just before Brian called his name. Just before he turned. Just before that asshole used his head for batting practice...

As he remembered the trip to the hospital and the long hours waiting for word from the doctors as to whether Justin would survive, Brian doubled over in pain. If there had been any food in his stomach, it would have been expelled on the floor. He considered himself lucky that all he’d had to deal with was a bad case of the dry heaves. Sometime between a minute and an hour later, he pulled himself up to a semi-standing position and staggered back over to the bed. Locating his phone, he dialed the hospital number and waited for the emotionless voice to answer. "Justin Taylor? Are you a member of the family, sir?"

"I-I’m a close friend."

"His condition is critical, but stable."

"So, he’s still...?"

"Critical, but stable," the voice repeated. "He’s in ICU. Room 525. That’s the only information we’re allowed to give out."

Brian hung up without saying anything else and put the phone back on the bedside table. He considered dressing immediately and going back to the hospital, but thought better of it. I need a shower, he thought. Justin can’t see me like this when... *if* he wakes up.