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Choir Boy

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Author's notes:

Brian's POV. Justin tries to set things "straight". Justin's maybe green and shy, but he turns out to be stronger than Brian realized.

Of course, thanks to Big J and Butterflytiger1982!





Shit. Kinney, what is WRONG with you!? Kissing JUSTIN!? KISSING Justin? And out of the blue like that? Yes, my vibes were right about him - he's definitely attracted to me. But FUCK! He's married and I respect him! Normally I have absolutely no qualms fucking a married guy; in fact, it kind of proves to me I'm right (as always): That most if not all guys are bi if not gay; the more ''hetero" and "anti-gay" and macho they are, the more they really crave it up the ass.


But Justin's not super hetero, not at all anti-gay nor is he macho at all. He's a decent guy with an ass that rivals if not surpasses Donatello's David, I might add - but probably shouldn't.


He loves Daphne completely and same with his son; he's happily married and as bizarre as it is for me to have these feelings, I feel like a little home-wrecker for kissing him. Pfft. Asinine. It's his fault for being so hot. And while I can tell that he's struggling with his feelings towards me (the carnal ones, that is) and probably about being gay in general, he's been sending such strong vibes that he quite frankly really wants me, it's hard to ignore.


Oh well. I'll put it out of my mind. I'll just keep my seeing Justin to a minimum, only when dropping Gus off for tutoring or to visit with James. I wish Linds wouldn't have me take Gus so much right now. It's not that I don't love him and am thrilled to be with him pretty much full-time now... it's just that I have to see Justin so much when I have him. And when I have Gus I can't go trick to relieve my frustrations.


But Linds and Mel are having some serious problems so it's best that he's with me and not stuck in the middle of their shouting matches. Actually knowing Mel, they're more like screaming matches.


I pull up to the loft; I lied to Justin. I have nowhere to be tonight. Just away from him. I'd go with Mikey and the boys to Woody's since Gus is sleeping over at Greg's, but I'm too tired. I dare to admit to myself that thirty-three is getting up there - I mean, shit, it's Saturday night! But I'm not the studly party man I used to be; drinking, drugging and tricking every single night just doesn't hold the same allure that it used to. The horde of tricks that cruise me relentlessly hasn't diminished and Mikey still says I'm the Stud of Liberty and that I'm just 'taking it easy' for a spell; but honestly, as I said, I'm just not as into it any more. Hmm. I choose to believe that I'm simply maturing gracefully - not getting old.


I get to my floor and am dumbfounded when I pull up the elevator grate to find Justin there.


"How the fuck did you get here? And so fast? I just left your place!" Well, I did drive around thinking a little while, I admit to myself. "And where's James? Who's watching him?"


Justin smiles nervously. "I have a car and you weren't 'just' at my place. I've been here over two hours. I figured you had to be somewhere like you said so I'd wait till you got home, that's all. And right after you left I called my neighbor -- he's staying with my son right now. They're good pals. And with James in bed for the night, Ted just has to hang out and watch TV or read."


Ted? There's no way it's the same Ted... "But... but why are you fucking here?"


Justin looks immediately uncomfortable and turns his eyes to the ground by my feet.




He remains quiet and I start to get frustrated. I don't have time for this shit. "Whatever," I mutter and push past him. I unlock the door, disarm the alarm and go inside.


Since I'm pretty positive nothing good can come from any further interaction with Justin tonight, I move to slide the door shut behind me with the intent on leaving him in the hall but he stops me, blocking the door. "Listen, um, Brian?" he says hesitantly.


I raise my eyebrow at him. Fuck, I do not want to deal with this. Not right now. Not after what happened tonight. Not when I'm in the mood I am.


"Listen, Brian..." he says again. "Shit." He sticks his hands in his pockets, irritated with himself. I wait for him to say more.


"Brian, may I come in? Just for a bit?" he finally asks.


I open the door all the way and gesture for him to come in. He hurries past me and I take a deep breath. I REALLY do not want to deal with him right now. But I slowly follow him, sliding the door closed behind us. I join him in the living area but I sit well away from him on the easy chair opposite the sofa where he sits. "Water?" I ask.


He shakes his head, not looking up. His hands are out of his pockets and he's staring at his fingers intently. "Brian..." then he's silent again. He gets up and starts pacing, never once looking at me. "Brian," he repeats. "I'm not married. Daph and I are best friends... James is the result of a confused, drunken night almost four and a half years ago. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me but he wasn't planned. I'm... I'm gay," he whispers.


Uh huh. "I know," I say simply. "I knew when I met you."


He looks at me in shock. "You did?"


I nod. "Justin, I knew you were attracted to me. I was admittedly confused by your apparent marriage to Daphne, since you don't strike me as the kind of guy who would wear a beard if you were solid in your identity. But I knew you were at least bi."


"Am I so obvious? And, um... I'm not bi. I'm gay."


"You were pretty obvious to me but as you know, I'm gay. I don't think anyone without excellent gaydar like myself would assume you're gay, if that's what's bothering you."


He smirks and then shakes his head. "Well, it does and it doesn't - bother me, I mean. I'm gay but you're the only one I've said those words to besides Daphne..."


Uh huh. So? I don't respond. It would seem he's still in a committed relationship with the mother to his son, whether he's gay or not. I don't want to bust that up in some way.


"See, I was brought up to believe that having the feelings I have - you know, that being gay is a sin... that I'm going to hell... it's been hard to reconcile myself with that. I've never been in a relationship with a guy; I've never been brave enough or attracted enough to another man to... until... until you... Guh! This is coming out all wrong!"


"Justin, if being gay means you go to hell, at least a lot of other gays will be down there," I say flippantly. "I guess I will, although I'm sure I have a special niche that's reserved for just me."


He smiles slightly. "Anyway, I suppose I'm really here just to apologize for earlier..."


"Justin, relax. I'm the one who went too far - I came onto you. And sorry's bullshit. So forget it. You're uncomfortable - hell, I'm uncomfortable and it's rare that I'm uncomfortable. Pretend tonight never happened. We hardly have to see each other, you know. We only have to talk and see each other when it comes to choir and the boys."


"NO! I mean, no," he says more quietly. "I... I want to see you. Before Daph gets an operation and becomes a man just to have a chance with you..." he adds hurriedly.


I cock an eyebrow, surprised that he seems serious. I can't help but chuckle. "No shit? That'd have to a pretty damned good operation."


Then he snickers, apparently realizing what he's said and how it sounds. "Can I see you again? Just the two of us?"


Here we go. "No. I don't think it's a good idea and I decidedly don't do dates." And I don't.


"Oh. Okay, well..." his shoulders visibly slump and he looks at his feet. "I'll um... I'll go." He starts towards the door.


"Justin, stop," I say, surprising myself now.


He turns back towards me; the blue depths of his eyes are shiny with unshed tears. What a drama queen!


"Justin, listen, that doesn't mean we can't get together. But you have to work on this schmaltzy, teary-chick behavior. I mean it.


"We can hang out but the last thing you or I need is to be burned. I fuck. I don't do relationships or love or boyfriends or lovers or any shit remotely related. I can do friends. But I don't 'do' my friends." I hope I'm right... I have to admit, I'm shocking myself a little with my behavior right now. My brain's screaming how he just has to GO… but something suspiciously close to my heart is silently asking him not to.


After a few moments, he smiles at me. He closes the gap between us and hugs me. I sigh and hug him back. "You okay?" I ask.


I feel him nod and now he's shaking, both laughing and apparently crying in my arms. "I'm okay..." he says finally. "Thanks."


I pull away from him slightly annoyed. It occurs to me how I'm breaking many of my own rules with hardly a thought. It's just that, well, Justin's unique. "I didn't do anything," I protest. "And stop with the high drama. You're a grown man and this isn't a soap opera!" Despite how harsh my words are, I hear my voice and I'm being uncharacteristically gentle. Guh.


"Yes. You did everything," he sniffs, grinning.


"What'd I just tell you?"


"Yeah, yeah. Cut the "schmaltzy, teary-chick shit". I'll try, asshole," he laughs.




"But in the ten times we've gotten together, I've--"


Wait. "Hold on - you've counted the times we've gotten together?"


He covers his mouth. "Um."


Brilliant. "How schmaltzy-chicky," I mumble. Honestly, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised or too freaked out. If he's as inexperienced as he says and he quite apparently leans towards the mushy, emotional side, his knowing the number of times we've spent time together is almost to be expected. Deep down, I know I recall each moment we've spent together. I just didn't count them... "Never mind." I wave it off. "What were you 'butting' about?"


He's biting his lower lip. "Um," he mutters again. "Just that I'm more of a heroine type and that you're more of a hero."


I chuckle. "How 'bout we modify that to you being more of a hero type who's overly in touch with his emotional side... I don't go for heroines, even as friends."


"Not overly - just in touch!" he snorts, sticking out his tongue.


I'm startled by my phone and pull my gaze away from his smiling face to go answer it. "What?" I answer, a bit gruffly.


"Brian? Could you come get Gus? He says he's feeling pretty sick and he's looking a bit green..."


"What? What's wrong? Jana, what's going on?"


She snickers. "Jeez, Brian, for the practically full-time father you are now, you still overreact to shit! I think he might simply have a touch of the flu-- you yourself said he was acting a little ill when you dropped him off three hours ago! It's nothing, I'm sure of it. Greg had it last week. It's messy but Gus''ll be fine with rest and TLC which I'm certain he'd much rather get from you than me right now."


"I'll be right over..." Shit. I hang up and look at Justin; he looks concerned. "I have to go get Gus. He's not feeling well..."

"What's wrong?"

"Flu or something," I answer, pulling on my coat. "You should head home. You don't want to get it or give it to James..."


He smiles again. "We had it. We were both out with it two days last week."


For some reason, I wonder why I didn't know that. Which is stupid: Why would I? "Oh. I'm sorry. You... well, since you and James have had it, you can come with me to pick Gus up if you want." Huh? Kinney, why the fuck are you asking him to come along?


"I'd love to!" he exclaims enthusiastically. I look at him curiously; why the fuck is he so excited about me asking him to go pick up my sick kid with me?


Whatever. Gus is sick and needs me and that's what's critical here.


I rush out with Justin on my heels. I speed us to Jana's within five minutes and I hurry inside, Justin following quickly; Gus is perched on the stairs, already bundled up in his heavy coat, hat and mittens and he looks up as I enter giving me a miserable, pitiful expression. "Daddy...!" he coughs, his voice hoarse but his relief palpable. He gets up and hobbles over to me as fast as he can, holding his arms out to be picked up. Yeah, yeah, he's seven years old, I know. But he's a little boy who feels like shit, so he needs a cuddle - er… to be picked up.


I lift him and give him a squeeze. "Sonny Boy! You feel sick, huh? Got the ickies?"


As my son nods at me with an unhappy pout, I see Justin staring at me like I've just sprouted horns. Well, Linds calls being sick 'having the ickies', so I'm just using a phrase the boy will relate to...


"He's sick!" Greg announces happily from further up the stairs. Jana's close by and looks at me sympathetically.


"He'll be fine. He just needs to sleep in his own bed near his Daddy," she says, coming up to us and pulling Gus's hat down on his head more securely. "Right, Gussy?"


Gawd. I hate it when she calls him that but Gus likes it. He smiles shyly and nods, then hides his face in my coat. I suspect little "Gussy" is starting to take a shine to the ladies. He takes after his Mom in that regard, obviously.


"Sorry, Jana... thanks for calling."


"No problem, hun." (I hate it she calls me that. She's sort of like Lindsay in that she's pretty flirty with me. Makes me wonder about Linds - she's gay. Jana isn't.)


We three drive home in silence. Gus must be really ill because he hardly acknowledges Justin at all. Usually when he sees Justin, he goes a little insane. Justin's definitely one of Gus's favorite grown-ups.


He conks out as soon as I get him into his Spider Man PJ's and put him down in the little bed I've set up near the bathroom. I have to get another place. With Gus here all the time, the loft just doesn't cut it.


When I get out to the living room I find Justin sitting on the sofa. "How's he doing?" he asks quietly.


"Out like a light." I go sit by him, casually throwing my arm on the sofa back behind him. He avoids my eyes. "What's with the timid act all of a sudden?"


He blushes and finally looks at me. He shifts ever so slightly towards me. "I'm not acting timid..."


"Okay. Then you are timid. You aren't acting."


He lets out an exasperated sigh. I wait and he says nothing but he sidles even closer; he tentatively puts a hand on my leg and looks at me. "Kiss me again," he whispers.


I smile slightly and brush my fingers along his cheek. "Hmmm. I dunno…" I tease. My dubious conviction that I'd be just fine as Justin's 'friend' has evaporated. I tell myself I tried, but really, I didn't. And it didn't sink into Justin's consciousness at ALL, it seems.




He's dead serious.


Huh. "Justin, listen. You're horny. You're attracted to me. You're gay. And as fucking unbelievable as this is: Even though I find you incredibly hot and I'm a total slut and proud of it, I can't treat you like a trick. Normally fucking you would be like shaking your hand but you're my son's teacher in a way - he likes you. I like and respect you. I have to see you because of Gus—you aren't a fuck, you're a friend. I don't fuck friends. I told you this earlier…


"Besides, you're so damned confused and terrified, you'll regret it. I don't believe in regrets - no excuses, no apologies, no regrets. I'm not going to give a sap like you some flimsy reason to construct a regret. Go home to your near-wife and son. If you choose to live your life as an 'out' gay male, find a guy who will fulfill your girlish dreams of a knight in shining armor. 'Cause fuck-all if that's me—I'm the antithesis to all Prince Charmings. Trust me."


"Fuck you, Brian," he hisses. "You think I see you as a knight in shining armor? As a Prince Charming? Ha!" He snorts humorlessly. "I know you're a slut." Ouch, sort of. "I know the living legend that is Brian Kinney. The Stud of Liberty Avenue! The Hunk Who Only Fucks You Once and that's it! The Asshole! I've heard about your mystique, your crudeness, your selfishness, your arrogance, your "No Repeats" policy. I may seem and even be sheltered, inexperienced and shy but I have ears! And Daph has found out and told me a thing or two about your reputation!" Justin's vehemence and conviction are so strong and reveal a side to him I've never seen that I'm speechless. His eyes suddenly change from hurt and angry to caring and looking suspiciously lovelorn. "But," he continues more softly, "I also have seen and gotten to know a different Brian Kinney than the one of legend. Brian, you're a wonderful father, a great and quietly devoted friend, generous, sensitive and quite simply: Pretty fucking cool. You hide your softer qualities very well but not so well that I haven't seen them.


"I truly… I really like that Brian Kinney. I may be confused, conflicted, uncertain and a million other things but I'm definitely not stupid or fooling myself. I'm more than just 'attracted' to you physically, Brian. This isn't infatuation on my part. I've thought hard about whether it is; and as much as I've tried to tell myself that it is, it's not."


He looks down and self-consciously removes his hand from my thigh. "But… hm," he says thoughtfully. "I. Hmm… I won't push. I'm not pushy -" here comes the Justin I've come to know. "I just kinda liked it when we kissed. That's all," he adds shyly.


I look at him, trying to keep any evidence of my amusement to myself - this isn't something I'm used to. I'm used to guys taking off their pants, bending over and spreading their cheeks, begging; for my cock; my tongue; my bite; my fingers; my ability. "Kinda" liking my kiss is rather novel. After a few moments I make a decision. Probably a very bad one but there it is. I take his hand and guide him to my hard cock. He looks up wide-eyed and his cheeks flush into a furious crimson. His expression is a mix of lust, surprise, anticipation and a little fear. "Justin," I whisper. "You know my rules. No repeats. This is a one-time thing. We can't be buddies and hang out after this, you know. We'll of course see each other 'cause of Gus and James and choir. But that's it. Just seeing each other in passing. I can't be your friend any more…"


He swallows and blinks, his hand now grasping my dick through the silk of my suit pants. His eyes are somewhat glazed over and he shivers a little before it seems he even registers my words. He swallows again, blinks again and finally nods. "Okay," he rasps. I ignore my obviously mistaken impression of what his eyes are slowly revealing - his eyes are saying, "Yeah, right, Brian. We’ll see about that…"


Or maybe I'm projecting because as I was spouting off my rules to him yet again, the strength of my conviction was definitely lacking.


I hold his hand on my cock as I descend on his lips, leaning over and pushing him down beneath me on the sofa, crushing him with my body and devouring his mouth with mine. He's a nice guy. I would have liked to be his friend. But he wants me, I want him - he wants this, so…


Soon he's writhing beneath me, fumbling with the buttons on my shirt; "Ohhhh…" he gasps as I run my fingers over his dick to reach the zipper on his khakis. This kid is HARD and he kisses like a lust-crazed beast. It's becoming more than obvious to me that there's a shy Justin… and an aggressive, strong one who very definitely knows what he wants.


He finally gets to the last button on my shirt and impatiently rips it off my body, his hands immediately running over my bare skin, nearly desperate. "More…" he moans.


Okay, enough play. Within five seconds I have us both naked and we're tangled like we're one biological creature, grabbing and touching and groping like teenagers at a drive-in. I haven't been so awkward since I was fourteen—but then, I cared. Now, I don't. I'm not striving to be the world's best lover or fuck or whatever to Justin. Despite his agreeing to my rules, he's still no trick. I'm never at all uncomfortable with anonymous tricks – obviously - but in this case, 'anonymous' doesn't even enter into it. This is Justin.


Even so, I'm not uncomfortable. In fact, it's the damnedest thing: I'm more at ease and excited than I've ever been.