Back to Index Chapter 13

He was drunk.

One look in his gleaming eyes told Brian all he needed to know: Danny got violent when he was drunk. Glad that he'd kept his jacket on, Brian slowly backed towards the door, keeping his eyes fixed on Danny. The drug dealer was lying upside down on the couch leering at the guitarist through hooded eyes. "I'm--I'm gonna come back tomorrow." Brian stammered, his hand reaching behind him for the door handle.

It was in the split second where Brian looked away from Danny to turn and open the door, when Danny leapt to his feet. He moved so quickly that Brian had no time to react. He had barely looked up when Danny was upon him and shoved him back against the door. "No." He slurred, forcing Brian's hands away from the doorknob. Brian's heart began to speed, his face pressed up against the rough wood. "You can't leave." Danny hissed. "Not now." His hands began to roam down Brian's body, settling between his thighs. Feeling panicky, Brian tried to calmly work through his predicament. Hopefully Danny would be too drunk to really understand what was going on.

"Danny I've really got to go." He managed, surprised at how calm he sounded.

"You just got here." Danny whispered in Brian's ear. "And I don't want you to leave." His fingers pressed into Brian's legs beneath the jeans, causing the guitarist's breath to hitch in fear. "Last night was shite." Danny continued, seemingly unaware of the way Brian was squirming beneath him. "You didn't scream nearly loud enough. And you know how I like it when you scream." At these words, Brian stilled, his heart caught in his throat. "Not tonight though." Grabbing him by the material of his jean jacket, Danny wrenched Brian away from the door.

"Wait Danny," Brian protested frantically, his body trembling, as the room blurred around him with the sudden movement.

"Shuttup Brian." Danny snapped. Gripping Brian's forearm in his vicelike fingers, he marched him down the hall. Brian's mind was a whirl of panic and fear. Danny was bigger than him and much stronger. And then in Danny's haste to get into the bedroom, he accidentally slammed Brian's head against the doorframe. Multicoloured lights exploded in front of his eyes as his head split in two. Brian stumbled into Danny, who taking advantage of his confused state shoved him onto the bed. Bouncing slightly on top of the mattress, Brian groaned and clutched his forehead, feeling violently nauseous. He could already feel a sizeable bump forming just under his hairline. Even as his fingers grazed the tender spot, another shock wave of sharp pain wracked his skull.

It was nearly a minute, before Brian's head cleared enough for him to realize that Danny was straddling him, attempting to get Brian out of his jeans. Brian groaned and feebly tried to push Danny off of him, his vision blurring, and his head hammering. Irritably, Danny grabbed Brian's wrists in one of his hands and with his free hand continued to unzip Brian's jeans. The dealer's face swam in and out of clear focus, and Brian's frazzled brain frantically tried to comprehend what was going on. "Danny..." Brian croaked. "Please..." Danny ripped Brian's jeans and boxers off one-handed, and smirked drunkenly at him. Brian blinked rapidly while his stomach churned, hazily thinking that he had to somehow manage to escape from Danny. But any movement of Brian's head made him need to throw up.

Danny was attempting to remove Brian's jean jacket, but seemed to be having trouble focusing on the zipper. His eyes bulged slightly in concentration as he tugged the zipper the wrong way, and accidentally smacked Brian in the chin. Brian groaned as his head throbbed again worse than ever, and he fought down the bile in his throat. Finally, Danny seemed to figure out the zipper and began to yank the material off of Brian's shoulders. It took him several inebriated minutes to realize that it was actually impossible to get the jacket off while he held Brian's arms above his head. But when his brain finally caught up, he jerked Brian upright and fairly tore the jacket from his body. Brian really did throw up then, the movement making him so sick that he lurched over the side of the bed, giving up the only meal his stomach had contained.

Seemingly unperturbed by the fact that Brian had just ruined the carpet, Danny pulled the 'Diva' t-shirt over Brian's head nearly choking him. Danny pushed the panting Brian back down on the bed, and sat astride his shivering hips. Humming fragments of a broken tune to himself, Danny cheerfully removed his own shirt, and then wriggled out of his jeans. Brian made no further attempt to escape. He tried to watch Danny, but his blurred vision was making him sick again. He closed his eyes, lying as still as possible, but unable to stop his terrified trembling. Danny lowered one hand to caress him self. He let out a harsh moan, and then fisted Brian's cock in his other hand. Brian's breathing began to quicken, catching in his throat. Danny was grinning viciously, watching Brian's face flush as his cock began to harden. Danny moved his hand rapidly over Brian's cock, occasionally allowing his fingers to caress the head. He leant over Brian, sucking on his neck, while moving his hand faster and faster. Brian emitted small moans that sounded full of both pleasure and pain. Finally, Brian let out a small but contented sigh, his body relaxing. This was what Danny had been waiting for. He bit down hard on the pale soft flesh, tasting blood. Brian gasped, his eyes filling with tears. Danny bit down again, ravaging Brian's neck with his teeth, while he began to squeeze the hard cock between his fingers. Tighter and tighter. Brian arched his back, tears pouring down his cheeks. He was in so much pain...

Danny snickered to himself, and then released his grip on Brian's cock. Brian inhaled great gasps of air, his chest heaving. "You're not screaming." Danny mocked him. Brian shuddered, sniffing. He tried to open his eyes, but found himself blinded by the mild lamplight that made his head throb viciously. When Brian didn't respond, Danny made soft 'tsk'ing noises to himself. "Well, well, well, Bri." He stroked Brian's pale chest, making the guitarist shiver. "No matter--we can fix that." Danny grabbed Brian's hand and forced it to curl around his cock, before placing his own hand on top. Not caring that Brian was exerting no effort, Danny began to move Brian's hand up and down. He moaned, at increasing volume, as more blood flowed towards his erection. Danny threw his head back, his breathing becoming laboured. He sat still a moment, gripping Brian's hand tightly, and then quite suddenly flung Brian's hand away from him.

Panting heavily, Danny adjusted himself, slithering down over Brian's body, until he was correctly positioned, the head of his cock pressed against Brian's entrance. Brian froze, forcing his eyes open despite the searing light. However violent Danny had gotten before, he'd always prepped Brian and used lube. Danny thrust forward with particular brutality, and got his wish immediately as Brian screamed in agony. Tears blinded him, and his head hurt worse than ever, but that was nothing in comparison to the pain Danny was inflicting on him. Without waiting for Brian to adjust, Danny pounded fiercely into his ass again and again, gasping and grunting. The dealer's nails gouged into Brian's fragile hips, tearing the skin. Brian was sobbing now, barely able to draw breath, because each time he inhaled, Danny drove his cock deeper into him, forcing him to exhale in pain.

Danny scraped his nails across Brian's chest as the guitarist arched into him, his eyes thick with tears. The sight of Brian, his dark hair in a halo on the pillow, his eyes red and water logged, seemed to spur Danny onto further extremes. Placing his hands on Brian's shoulders, and pinning him against the bed, Danny began to lay fiery kisses along Brian's pale jawbone. He moved his lips down, keeping up an aggressive and sporadic rhythm. Brian was whimpering in pain and terror. Danny's mouth found Brian's soft pink nipples and after sucking lightly on them for several seconds, nipped the flesh with his teeth. Sobbing, Brian made a pitiful attempt to push Danny away from him. Danny merely laughed, forcing his cock into Brian's bleeding ass, and imprinting his fingers on the tender flesh beneath him.

It seemed to last for an eternity. Brian was covered in icy sweat and he could feel blood trickling down his legs. Danny's eyes rolled back in his head and Brian felt him shudder, reaching his climax. Brian fought to retain his consciousness--he couldn't pass out with the dealer on top of him--Danny's whole body trembled, his back arching as he came hard, teeth gouging marks in Brian's collarbone.

Utterly spent, Danny collapsed on top of Brian, his eyelids fluttering shut. He murmured something incomprehensible, and within seconds was fast asleep. Brian laid still his eyes clenched shut. Right now, his whole body felt numb. Dimly, he supposed this was better than the fiery burning sensations that had wracked his body while Danny had abused it. Even though Danny was asleep, Brian was too petrified to move--or maybe he couldn't. He was afraid that the moment he tried to move, all of the pain would come back ten fold.

He didn't know how long he lay there, staring at the blank ceiling. The tears on his face had long since dried. But for the longest time, he was merely too terrified to even twitch his fingers. Finally, a loud grunting snore from Danny brought Brian back to his senses. Swallowing, Brian began to try to budge out from under the heavy body. He bit back a moan of pain, and shifted another couple of inches. Danny grumbled in his sleep and after smacking his lips, rolled over off of Brian. Sighing in agonizing relief, Brian slid off the bed.

****

Brian huddled in a seat on the underground, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. He knew he was attracting a lot of attention, but tried to pretend as if he was invisible. Though his head felt much better than it head two hours ago, he still had a mild pulsing headache. His body ached fiercely every time he moved, making him wince horribly. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the cold detached female voice read out Brian's stop. Clutching his jacket around his hunched shoulders, Brian shuffled off the train, barely able to jump over the gap.

Keeping his gaze on the ground, Brian slowly made his way through the station. Someone rammed into his already bruised shoulder, sending jars of pain all through his body. "Watch it." He snapped. I wasn't looking where I was going--n all honesty I might have hit him...

"Oi!" Brian looked back at the tall muscular and now angry man. "You ran into me, fag!"

"No I didn't." Brian glared. I might have... "And if you call me a fag again, I'll cut off your fucking dick with a spork and force feed it to you!" The man's face contorted.

"I'll call you whatever the fuck I like." He growled. "Faggot!" Several heads whipped around as the man bellowed the last word. Loosing it, Brian lunged at the man, trying to tackle him to the floor. Of course this made absolutely no impact whatsoever as the man was twice Brian's width, and at least half a foot taller. Brian pounded every inch of the man he could reach, but the man soon got over the initial shock of being attacked by a makeup-wearing midget. In a flash, Brian's head collided with the concrete. He felt a knife at his throat as stars whirled across his vision for the second time that day.

"You gonna say sorry?" The man demanded. Brian was gazing upwards, the faces of shocked bystanders swimming in and out of focus. He saw one man standing directly above him--the blonde's eyes were wide, staring at him in shocked disbelief. Brian blinked several times. His vision cleared somewhat. He knew those eyes...

"Hullo Stef." Brian muttered before passing out.

****

Stefan couldn't believe it. Never in his wildest dreams, had he thought that he would see Brian again. But yet here he was--right in front of his astonished eyes. Quickly, he stepped over the tiny prone figure, pushing his attacker off of him, and hoisting the unconscious Brian into his arms. He had a vivid flashback of a time several years ago where the captain of the basketball team had carried a small broken figure--Brian whimpered against Stefan's shoulder. Stef looked down at him, but his eyes were still closed. It was then that Stefan noticed the massive bruise on Brian's forehead. His eyes roamed down and he inhaled sharply. There was a dark and nasty looking bruise on Brian's neck where someone had bitten him. The tall Swede glanced around hopelessly. His flat was only a couple blocks away--could he make it?

****

Brian's eyes fluttered open. He was lying in bed--wait. Brian sat upright but was immediately laid low by a throbbing pain in his head. His hips felt like liquid fire. Gasping for breath, Brian kneeled over, resting his head on the blue striped sheets. Blue striped? Brian's aching brain struggled to recognize the foreign sheets. How did he get in bed--more importantly, whose bed was he in? The throbbing in his head was slowly dissipating. Inhaling deeply, Brian sat upright again, careful to move cautiously. The room swam in and out of focus before finally coming to a wobbly standstill. It was a small room, probably belonging to an equally small flat. Outside the grungy window, it was dark. Harsh lamplight streamed in dappling the hardwood floor.

In the corner of the room was a guitar case covered with tattered stickers. Bewildered, Brian frowned. Tentatively he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. For a moment he seemed overwhelmed with nausea. Swallowing the urge to throw up, Brian forced himself to remain standing. Eventually the nausea ebbed away. Sighing with relief that he was able to stand, Brian looked once more around the room. It looked as if it was normally very messy, but someone had made a frenzied  last minute attempt to clean it up. Dirty clothes had been dumped unceremoniously in the corner by the dresser, and crumpled up bits of paper that littered the floor next to the window seat had been swept up into a pile. Brian tentatively strained his brain, trying to remember where he'd been before this. His mind presented him with nothing. Then for the first time he heard strains of muffled music. Perplexed, Brian slowly walked towards the door and opened it. The music got louder as he moved out in the hall, and Brian was stumped when he recognized what song was playing.

You're so hot, teasing me. So you're blue but I cant take a chance on a chick like you...

Who the hell did he know, who listened to fucking Abba? Brian continued down the dark hallway, the music getting louder and louder, until he emerged in a small foreign living room and kitchen.

There's that look in your eyes, I can read in your face that your feelings are driving you wild...

Brian spotted the record player sitting on the ground by the couch, spinning away happily. Next to it was the blue cardboard slip case reading 'Voulez-Vous.' He was now more than confused. He glanced towards the kitchen, and his jaw dropped. There, dancing around with a mop was an insanely tall blonde man. He had his back to Brian, and didn't seem to have heard his entrance. Blinking rapidly, Brian realized that he had started drooling. The man was terribly skinny, and was (luckily) shirtless; clad only in a pair of tight black trousers. Then to Brian's utter delight, he realized that the blonde was actually singing along.

"Well I can dance with you honey, if you think it's funny! Does your mother know that you're out? And I can chat with you baby, flirt a little maybe! Does your mother know that you're out?" He waved the mop around above his head and began thrusting his hips in time with the synthesizer. Bringing the mop back down, he swivelled it around the floor, still wiggling his hips. And then as the guitar riff returned, he brought the long wooden stick up like a guitar. He was really getting into it--"I can see what you want. But you seem pretty young to be searching for that kind of fun. So maybe I'm not the on--!" He twirled around, caught sight of Brian and turned crimson. The mop fell from his hands with a clatter. Brian couldn't help it. He fell over.

Thirty seconds later, he was once again staring up into Stefan Olsdal's wide brown eyes. "Brian are you ok?" The Swede knelt next to Brian helping him to a sitting position.

"Erm--yeah." Brian managed meekly. "Sorry, I was just kind of shocked." He blushed, but not nearly as much as Stefan, who coughed and scratched his ear.

"I thought you were sleeping." He muttered. "Just thought I'd clean up a bit..." Brian grinned.

"Good job. I particularly enjoyed the hip thrusties." Stefan?s face glowed with embarrassment.

"Yeah..."

"No, Stefan I'm serious! They were great!" Stefan managed a rueful half-grin, rubbing his neck.

"Erm, why don't we get you off the floor." He said after a short silence. He seemed to know just how much pain Brian was in, because he very gently lifted Brian up and placing an arm around his waist, helped him to the couch. "How're you feeling?" He asked nervously, once Brian had been situated.

"Shitty." Brian answered truthfully. "But, erm--how did I get here?" In the face of Stefan's performance, some of the initial awkwardness had disappeared, but it returned now in full force. Brian hadn't seen Stefan since school, and there had been a lot of heavy emotion surrounding their last meeting...

"You tried to take on some huge bloke on the Tube. He knocked you flat, but I stepped in and brought you here. I would have taken you to your place, but you didn't seem to have any information on you." Stefan blushed slightly. "I just couldn't leave you unconscious there you know?" Bits and pieces of the incident flashed before Brian's eyes. He remembered the man calling him a fag--staring at the vaulted cement ceiling--the brown eyes that had haunted his dreams for so much of his life...Brian blushed but Stefan didn't seem to notice. "--especially because you already looked like you'd been through a lot." Brian swallowed and looked away.

"Yeah..." There was another silence, more pronounced and drawn out than the last.

"Brian? What--what happened?" Stefan's eyes were fixed on the mark on Brian's neck. Brian fidgeted, messing with the zipper on his jacket. He was quiet, refusing to meet Stefan's gaze. "Brian?"

"I--I can't tell you." He whispered finally, risking a glance at Stefan. The Swede looked concerned, but the seriousness of the situation was marred by the fact that he was wearing tight pants--the kind that clung to the wearer like a second skin--making apparent all curves and bumps--Brian caught himself and blushed, quickly looking away.

"Well--I was gonna ask how your life has been since school." Stefan paused. "But I think the answer is rather apparent." Brian flushed again, feeling a deep sense of shame. He knew Stef hadn't meant to make him feel bad, but all the same Brian felt as if Stefan was scorning him. "Hey--you hungry?" Stefan interrupted Brian's miserable thoughts. Brian's eyes widened hopefully.

"Fucking starving!" Stefan grinned.

"Excellent. You've given me an excuse not to cook. You like Chinese?" Brian nodded. "Perfect, we can order takeout."

****

Sometime later, the two sat at Stefan's counter steadily eating their way through four cartons of steaming food. Brian was very quiet, but Stefan had noticed the way he devoured his food the second his fork made contact. It was as if he hadn't eaten in days. Stefan took the moment where Brian was drinking his beer to examine the smaller man. The Swede didn't like what he saw. Brian had always been small and skinny. But now, he had the appearance of someone who had recently lost a lot of weight in the unhealthiest way possible. There were huge dark shadows under his eyes, and Stefan was hard pressed to find a bit of skin on Brian that wasn't bruised or scratched. Frowning to himself, Stefan munched on a piece of orange chicken. What on earth had happened to him?

"So," Stefan cleared his throat, hoping to break the awkward silence. "What's Gypsum up to these days? Last I'd heard you two were up to something together." Brian went very still, his fork frozen in midair. He didn't seem to be able to look at Stefan, fidgeting with the strip of metal between his fingers. He opened his mouth and then closed it when nothing came out. Stef was confused. Finally Brian looked up, gazing at a spot somewhere to the left of Stefan's ear.

"She died last month." He said, his voice barely audible. Stefan stared at Brian, mortified. "Overdosed."

"Brian I'm so sorry." Brian smiled sadly. "I know how much she meant to you." The dark haired man nodded.

"Yeah--my life's just a mess right now, you know?" Stefan put down his fork, watching Brian, but the guitarist merely shook his head. "Sorry I know you don't want to hear my sob story." Tentatively, Stefan placed his hand on top of Brian's.

"Brian you can tell me." For a second Brian looked at Stefan's hand in some manner of surprise. Then he lifted his eyes, meeting Stefan's gaze for the first time. The Swede could see how close the soft green eyes were to tears. He hesitated a minute, and then recklessly opened his mouth again. "I never stopped caring about you Brian." There was a shocked silence. Even Stefan was stunned that he'd actually said it. "I mean I know we weren't the best of friends, but you--you meant something to me. You were the one who gave me the courage to accept and be who I am. I don't think I ever thanked you for that." Brian scratched his ear but didn't say anything, feeling distinctly awkward. There was a moment of silence. "So what happened?" Stefan pressed when the silence became unbearable. Brian sighed dejectedly and poked at his chicken. He was quiet a minute longer and then finally put his fork down.

"I was in a band with Gyp." He began haltingly. "And that was how we survived--off the money we got from gigs. Well, about two months ago now, Gyp went off with this guy who promised to give her a good supply of smack if she fucked him--or something like that. I don't really know. But she just took off, ignored all of our gigs, so the rest of the band left. Well in case you hadn't noticed I'm not all that employable." Stefan opened his mouth to argue, but closed it when he realized that Brian indeed had a point. Brian sighed again. "So I didn't have any money. My parents cut me off. So I was just completely broke." Brian fidgeted, looking almost as if he was going to stop talking. Stefan noticed that his cheeks had started to burn red. "Well I--I came across my old dealer and he--he offered to feed me in exchange for..." Brian coughed, embarrassed. "You know." Stefan did know, and he felt a pang of horror. Brian pulled his legs up on the stool, and placed his chin on top of his knees. "Well he was drunk this afternoon. He gets really violent when he's drunk. I tried to leave when I realized, but..." Brian trailed off helplessly, staring at his plate.

"Brian I--I don't know what to say. I'm--I'm just so sorry." Stefan's voice broke. He watched Brian sitting miserably for a minute. "Do you want help cleaning that bite? It--it looks rather nasty." Brian twitched almost convulsively.

"I'll probably get rabies." He joked weakly. Stefan smiled.

"?Well all the more reason to clean it up, but I think you'd have to be bitten by a dog to get rabies. You don't want it to get infected at any rate." Stefan slipped off his stool, and beckoned Brian to follow him. The smaller man hesitated a second, but then hopped down with a wince. Leading the way into the bathroom, Stefan popped open the mirror and began rummaging around. He nodded towards the toilet seat, indicating that Brian should sit down. Brian did so, looking rather nervous. Finally Stefan found what he was looking for, and pulled out the tube of antibiotic cream. Setting it down on the counter, he got a small cloth and after wetting it, gently swiped at Brian's neck. The dark haired guitarist winced but didn't say anything. "Ok this'll probably sting a bit." Stefan warned as he unscrewed the cap on the tube and squeezed a bit onto his fingers. Brian looked at Stefan's hand apprehensively as it moved towards the bite on his neck.

"Ow fuck!" Brian exclaimed in surprise as Stefan gently massaged the cream onto the tender spot.

"Told you." Stef chuckled.

"Yes well I didn't think it would sting that much." Brian pouted. Stefan grinned.

"Is there anywhere else you need this?" Brian paused uncertainly for a second.

"Erm yeah." He muttered blushing profusely. "But I--I can do it--it's kind of in a..." He squirmed uncomfortably. "--a place I don't normally show off..." His cheeks were flaming. Stefan looked at him in concern.

"It's ok Brian, I can help." Brian shook his head quickly.

"No--thanks Stef, but it's--you know--a rather..." he struggled for the right word, "...intimate place." Stefan's eyes widened in horrid dismay.

"Oh Brian, no wonder you're in so much pain! Please let me help you?" Brian pulled his jacket tightly around his shoulders, staring at the tiled floor.

"I got it Stef." He mumbled.

"Brian please, I want to help."

"Thanks Stef," Brian sounded a bit exasperated now. "But that's really an awkward thing for you to have to do--I mean I kind of have to take my pants off. I'm quite capable of doing it..." He trailed off, seeing the look in Stefan?s eyes.

"Brian I don't know if you recall but I have seen you without your pants before. In fact I believe I rather enjoyed the sight." What was with him today? Honestly Stefan didn't think that he'd ever been so forward in his life! "C'mon," He said in a softer voice. "It's the least I can do."

"Erm--well--o--okay then." Brian scratched his head, flustered. He dithered about, wringing his hands, not quite sure what to do, and Stefan could tell that he was feeling rather panicky. "Ok well um, you just don't really need to, I mean it's not really that bad, you know." He was rambling. Taking pity upon him, Stefan gently pulled Brian to his feet.

"It's ok Brian.? He soothed, rubbing his arm lightly. "You wanna take your jeans off?" It was then that Stefan noticed that Brian was shaking rather violently. "Brian--Brian?"

"Hmm?"

"Brian I'm not going to hurt you. You know that right?" Brian nodded tremulously.

"Oh--yeah." He said meekly. "Sorry..."

"It's alright love, but I promise I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help." Slowly, Brian unsnapped his jeans and slid down the zipper. Then without looking at Stefan, he moved the heavy fabric down over his hips, his face contorting with pain. Brian blushed and looked on the verge of tears as he noticed the dark red stains on his boxers.

"I was on my way home." Brian stammered. Stefan nodded sympathetically and swallowing, Brian removed the thin material covering his hips. Unable to control himself, Stefan gasped. There, along Brian's frail hipbones, were deep four-inch long gouges made by what looked like human nails. The source of the stains was immediately apparent.

"Oh Brian!" Stefan breathed, covering his mouth.

"It's--it's not so bad." Brian said unconvincingly in a tiny voice.

"Not so bad? Brian, the bastard's nearly shredded your skin! Did you go to the cops?" Brian shook his head.

"No, I'm just some fucked up junkie Stef. What if they put me in jail?" Stefan couldn't argue this point, as he didn't know Brian's record. So instead he pulled the damp washcloth off the counter.

"Ok well let me clean these up." He sighed. Brian stood stalk still, holding onto Stef's shoulder for support as the cloth gently swabbed at the oozing cuts. The Swede felt Brian's grip tighten, but he didn't say anything. Dumping the stained rag back into the sink, Stefan began smearing on the medicinal cream. Brian's hips jerked, and his eyes filled with tears. By the time Stefan had fished out two large bandages, Brian was sniffing and wiping his eyes. "Alright, you ready?" Stefan asked gently. Biting his lip, Brian nodded. Slowly he turned around and leant over the kitchen sink. "Tell me if I'm hurting you too much." Stefan reminded him solemnly. As gently as possibly, Stefan put his hands on Brian's ass, parting the cheeks so he could apply the antibiotic. What he saw nearly made him want to cry out once more, but he remained silent. He knew Brian was mortifyingly embarrassed, and he couldn't bring himself to make him even more upset. The flesh was red, inflamed, and viciously torn. As soon as Stefan's fingers began to brush the spot with the cream, Brian began to shudder and breath heavily. Within seconds he was nearly hyperventilating. Wincing, Stefan finally pulled back his fingers. "Done." He said softly. "If you hold on a minute, I'll get you some boxers to wear."

"Th--thanks." Brian chattered, shivering violently.

"No problem." Stefan picked his way out of the bathroom and headed back to his bedroom. Cringing at the state of it, he yanked out the top pair of boxers and a pair of pyjama bottoms. When he returned to the bathroom, it was to find Brian furiously trying to scrub away his tears. "Here you go." Stef said sweetly handing Brian the boxers. "And if you wanted to stay the night, I thought you could wear these." He held up the pants.

"Oh I couldn't do that." Brian stammered quickly. "You've done so much for me already I couldn't..."

"Brian I honestly don't think you're in any condition to go home. You're all beat up and I think you might have a concussion. It's fine, I'll kip on the couch."

"No Stef you don't have to." Brian was blushing again.

"Really, it's alright Brian. The couch is plenty big enough for me, and you honestly look like you haven't gotten a good night's sleep in forever." He paused. "I'll make you breakfast if you stay." Immediately he knew that he'd gotten him. Brian sighed and managed a small smile.

"Ok." Stefan grinned and tossed him the pants.

"Excellent."

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