Propping himself carefully on his arm, Brian peered over Justin’s shoulder.  Justin’s face held a look of pure satisfaction, lips curled in a gentle smile.  To the casual observer, Justin’s slumber was deep and all-encompassing – the perfect picture of contented youth, lost in his lovers embrace.  Brian closed his eyes, imagining the sketch as it would develop in Justin’s skilled hands.  The nuances of light and shadow.  The sense of peace he could convey with a simple stroke of charcoal or lead.  A boy wrapped in love, linked to the world only by the bed on which he lay and the arms that enveloped him. 

Brian knew better.  Long months of sharing his bed with Justin had served him well.  He could recognize and heed the subtle signals of Justin’s body almost as easily as his own.  The hand that grasped his under the pillow still held on tightly, fingers intertwined with his own.  The thump of Justin’s heart had yet to find its way back to its steady, gentle rhythm.  Justin lay in that twilight world between waking and sleep. 

And until deep sleep claimed Justin, Brian would lay awake at his side.  It wasn’t time to move yet.  Exhaustion pulled at him, but he fought it expertly.  He had so many late nights in his past.  Late nights working, late nights dancing, late nights fucking.  He was accustomed to little sleep. 

Brian blew out a breath, the warm exhalation tickling Justin’s ear.  The younger man gasped in his sleep, nose crinkling endearingly.   Endearingly?  Brian considered the thought, frowning. 

Justin snuggled a little deeper into the pillow, his lean form relaxing into Brian’s as he slid further into slumber.  The neon lights shimmered across his body, lashes gleaming like gold under their surveillance.    His skin never looked paler, more unblemished, more beautiful. 

Dropping his head back to his own pillow, Brian struggled to contain his growing arousal.  He wanted nothing more than to wake Justin.  Wake him and fuck him.  He wanted to see that angelic face grow flushed with exertion.  See the sweat pooling on that perfect skin.  He wanted to lick his way down that flawless chest, making Justin’s back arch with pleasure and passion and need.  He wanted to see those brilliant blue eyes glaze over with desire.  He wanted… hell, he might as well admit it.  He wanted to hear Justin’s voice calling his name.  Moaning his name.  Screaming his name. 

He wanted… 

He might have done it six months ago.  Three months ago.  But so much had changed since then.  He flexed his hand under the pillow, smiling softly when Justin subconsciously returned the pressure.  Yes, things were different now. 

He ran his hand lightly along Justin’s hip, drawing the younger man imperceptibly closer.    The touch of Justin’s body resting against his own was a caress.  Soft.  Delicate.  The kind of touch that could draw a shiver of delight no matter how much he fought against it. The kind of touch that could pull back the layers of his Armani armour, leaving him bare and breathless.  The kind of touch that could cool the fire of his restless mind.  It was Justin’s touch that he envisioned when he thought of home. 

Brian scowled against Justin’s neck. Ignoring the intoxicating scent of the pale yellow hair against his face, he pondered this fanciful train of thought.   Home.  Justin equals home. 

Shit, since when did Brian Kinney become a romantic? 

He could rationalize this, he reflected soberly. He could rationalize anything.  So he thought of Justin when he thought of home.  So what?  They did share the loft.  God knows the kid spent practically every waking moment with him.  Hadn’t he been urging Justin to spend more time with Daphne because of that very fact?  He needed his space.  He needed time alone.  Except… 

Brian sighed.  He wouldn’t think this.  Why was he even thinking this?  Couldn’t his fucking brain just shut down and give him some peace? 

Except that he didn’t want time alone.  Even before Justin, before seeing him under the glow of the lamplight and knowing that he had to have him… even then, he had never wanted to be alone.  His life was one endless cycle of movement.  From work to home, from home to Babylon.  Dancing, because standing still too long made him… uneasy?  Anxious?  The word didn’t matter.  Dancing, and prowling, and finding his entertainment for the evening.  Fucking, the best of all, because he could lose himself in another body for a short while.  Then repeat.  Day after day till they all blended together.  Didn’t have to think, didn’t have to care.  He was Brian Kinney, and everybody wanted him.  He had believed he was satisfied with his life.  He had believed he was content. 

Until Justin. 

Closing his eyes, Brian reflected on that endless sea of men.  He remembered so very few of them.  There was the occasional bedmate who was impressive enough to be memorable, but most were a blur.    He liked it that way.  He wanted it that way.  What had he said to Justin that night, so long ago?  “In and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit.”  That’s what he wanted.  That’s what he needed from his tricks.  That’s why Justin had to get any idealistic notions about the two of them out of his head. 

Except… 

Except that now he never really wanted to go tricking.  He still did it.  He was, as Mikey had so eloquently put it, “Brian Kinney, for fucks sake.” He had a reputation to maintain and… okay, time for the cold hard truth… something to prove.  Not to himself, not to the unmemorable men he took to his bed, not to Mikey or the gang or the anonymous bystanders who watched the show at Babylon.  It was for Justin.   Brian Kinney wasn’t going to be tied down. 

Brian closed his eyes.  This is what it all came down to.  No matter what he did, no matter what his plan, no matter what his original intentions… it all led back to Justin. 

Was that such a bad thing? 

Brian’s eyes flew open.  The thought had seemed to come from somewhere outside him, startling him in its frankness.  He realized his entire body had tensed, his hand clutching Justin’s hip in a fierce grip.  He took a deep breath, forcibly calming himself.   He wanted a drink.  He wanted a cigarette. 

He wanted Justin. 

He didn’t know when it happened.  Brian let his mind drift back to their first encounters.  A backlit alley outside Babylon.  His loft.  The crowded dance floor as some mindless 80’s tune crashed through the speakers.  Three nights, four, five.  And then Justin was just… always… there.  Slowly insinuating himself into the gang.  A convenient fuck when he wanted it, nothing more. 

When did it become more? 

It had always been a game between them.  Justin chased, and he rebuffed.  Justin ran away, and then he followed.  He caught his prey on his terms.  Because the game had to be played by his rules, and the fun was in the chase. 

Somewhere along the line he started to care for the little twink, but that was okay.  He adjusted the rulebook.  Section 7, subsection D, paragraph 3: Justin Taylor is exempt from the rules listed in subsection B.   He was still in control, and he allowed Justin to see only what he wanted him to see. 

Then… Brian shivered.  No.  He wouldn’t think about the prom.  Fuck that.  It was after.  After the prom…. things began to change. 

Justin came to live with him.  That was okay, too.  He wanted the kid to heal.  If Brian Kinney was the only one who could help him to do it, then he was more than willing to step up to the plate.   And Justin did heal.  Was still healing.  Slowly.  Sometimes painfully.  The nightmares were less frequent now, but they still plagued him.  The nightmares plagued them both. 

Brian knew what everyone else thought of his arrangement with Justin.  Brian Kinney, the heartless shit.  Cold.  Impersonal. Unfeeling.  They couldn’t figure out what he was getting out of the deal, aside from a hot piece of ass.   They couldn’t understand what Justin saw in him, either.  Brian will break your heart, they said.  He’ll leave you alone and lonely, they cautioned.  He’ll tire of you soon enough.   A chorus of voices lined up to warn Justin against falling in love with Brian Kinney, and Brian’s own voice was the loudest and the most strident. 

Justin didn’t listen. 

Somehow… somehow, they became a couple.  They bucked the odds.  And soon, Brian found himself taking each new development in their relationship in stride.  Sometimes he was thrown off balance by the twists and turns, but he always found his way back to the road.  The road that led to Justin. 

He knew Justin loved him.  Not a crush, not an infatuation, not something he was going to grow out of.  He hadn’t figured out how he was going to deal with it.  He just knew that at some point in the future, he would have to come up with a plan of action.  Because Justin couldn’t love him.  Shouldn’t love him. 

He just never planned on falling in love right back. 

Pushing himself up on his arm, Brian leaned across Justin’s shoulder and watched his lover silently.  Justin was oblivious.  The fingers that had held Brian’s so intensely were relaxed now.  Each slow, languorous breath caused his thin chest to rise and fall in a gentle rhythm. 

It was time now.  But Brian didn’t want to move. 

Tentatively, Brian ran his hand softly along Justin’s still form.  He brushed his knuckles across Justin’s cheek, allowing himself a small smile when the younger man unconsciously moved his chin to nuzzle against the tender touch.  So soft.  Brian’s smile shifted, froze, then died as he lay back against his pillow. 

He wasn’t going to change.  There were things that he could do… parts of himself that he could offer… but there was a line that he could not cross.  He knew that.   The moon and the stars belonged just where they were.  Clichés were called clichés for a reason, and romance was bullshit. 

He never allowed himself to think about the future.  There was no tomorrow, only today.  But Justin… Justin was always planning.  Always dreaming.   And, Brian knew, eventually Justin would realize that what Brian could offer was no longer enough. 

It was time.  Justin wasn’t going to drift any further into sleep than he had already. Holding his breath, Brian reached between their bodies, sliding his limp organ carefully from the warmth of Justin’s opening.  He deposited the condom into the wastepaper basket quickly, his own body crying out to be pressed to his lovers in that brief moment that they were separated.  Easing back down, Brian clenched Justin’s hand under the pillow, wrapping his other arm firmly around Justin’s slender form.  Their bodies meshed, fitted together perfectly, as though they were made for each other.  Perhaps they were. 

Burrowing his head against Justin’s back, Brian pressed a kiss against Justin’s spine.  I’ll hold on, he thought as he felt sleep begin to drag at him.  I’ll hold on, Justin. I’ll be holding on. 

Till you let go.