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Overthinking things has never been Brian's problem.

Maybe that's why Mia finally wised up and walked away. Maybe it's why Brian is still trapped in Dom's orbit, caught so hard he couldn't leave even if he wanted to.

It's definitely why he keeps his mouth shut about the late hour when Dom shows up at his apartment around three in the morning. Brian was hard asleep when the knock woke him. He can't remember exactly what he was dreaming about, but it was warm and pleasant, the kind of dream it always sucks falling out of.

He hasn't bothered to change. Of the few people who know where to find him, only Dom would be enough of an asshole to wake him at this hour; and Dom can damn well cope with the thin t-shirt and well-worn boxers Brian sleeps in.

When Brian pulls his front door open, he finds Dom leaning one arm carelessly against the jamb. Dom's posture is casual; his eyes are anything but.

"Everything all right?" Brian asks cautiously.

Instead of answering, Dom shoulders past him into the tiny apartment. "You got anything to drink around here?"

"Sure." Brian closes the door and locks up, following Dom to the corner of the room that passes for a kitchen. He's lived here about two weeks and won't be staying long, but that's no excuse not to stock the fridge. He's got two brands of beer on the bottom shelf, neither of them good, and Dom grabs a couple without even glancing at the labels. He pops both caps off and hands one of the bottles to Brian.

Brian watches as Dom takes a long swig, moonlight catching the line of his throat as he swallows. Dom is always a furnace of barely contained intensity, but something must have him especially riled tonight. Brian's only ever seen him this on edge a handful of times. About to race, about to fight, about to fuck. And with Letty gone, Dom doesn't often go in for the latter, at least not that Brian's seen.

Brian takes a drink of his own beer, trying not to be too obvious about watching Dom. Eventually Dom meets his eyes, and the look on his face is sharp and fierce.

The rumble of Dom's voice is jarring in the cramped apartment when he raises his bottle and says, "To old friends."

"Old friends." Brian taps his own drink to Dom's with a clink, and takes a slow swallow. He understands the shadows in Dom's eyes now: heavy loss, empty spaces enough to drown a man. Dominic Toretto has spent a lifetime making dangerous choices. So has everyone he loves. Brian, of all people, knows the heavy toll those choices have cost him.

He wonders if tonight heralds a particular anniversary, or if the ghosts have simply caught up with Dom for once.

Quiet and patience are the best tactics when it comes to dealing with Dom, no matter what mood he's in—especially when he's wearing that rough edge of intensity about him like a cloak—but Brian's mouth opens anyway, and he hears himself ask, "What're you thinking about?"

Dom's eyes flash, lock onto him fiercely, and abruptly—in a fragment of a second—Dom is in Brian's space. He crowds Brian back against the cluttered counter, setting down his empty drink to brace strong hands to either side of Brian's hips. Dom is shorter than him, but it doesn't feel like it in moments like this. Slouched off balance as Brian is, they're almost eye-to-eye, and it's difficult to think of Dom as anything but a mountain.

Dom hasn't even touched him, but Brian's pulse clatters faster just the same.

He opens his mouth—maybe means to say Dom's name—but his voice doesn't come. There's an upward quirk that's nothing at all like a smile at the corner of Dom's lips, and then Dom is leaning even closer. Brian closes his mouth, sets his own drink aside without dropping his eyes, and does his best to ignore the way Dom's proximity is starting to make him feel lightheaded.

Dom's eyes dip briefly to his mouth, and then Brian has to clench his jaw to keep from gasping aloud, as Dom's huge hands settle suddenly—with no warning at all—at Brian's hips. Dom's skin is fever hot through Brian's shirt, and any doubts Brian might have held about what's happening here, they're out the window hard. Dom's grasp on his hips tightens, almost like a question, and Brian can't remember how to breathe.

Then Dom's mouth is on his, crushing force, and Brian clutches at the edge of the counter as he opens for the hard thrust of Dom's tongue. Brian's eyes fall closed as Dom presses him back harder, pinning him now not just with hands, but with the full forward press of his body. Hard muscle holds Brian in place as Dom plunders his mouth, impossible heat and unyielding strength.

In this, as with everything, Dom is carefully controlled violence. One hand lets go of Brian's hip to cup his skull instead, forcing him to a better angle, driving the kiss deeper. Dom's other hand tightens on his hip, bruising strength that sends a jolt of heat straight to Brian's cock.

He gasps aloud when Dom releases his mouth, and Dom leans in to press possessive kisses to his throat instead. Brian stifles a moan at the first teasing hint of teeth, but Dom catches the sound—of course he does—and bites down harder, sucking a deliberate bruise that Brian will never be able to hide come morning. Brian is fast on his way from interested to achingly hard, and he lets go of the counter to wrap his arms around Dom's waist, clutching at the back of Dom's leather jacket with desperate hands. He tilts his head back when Dom noses at the underside of his jaw, baring more of his throat for that maddening mouth, letting Dom mark him. He's suddenly past caring how it will look tomorrow.

Dom's hand at his hip loosens then, but only to slip back between Brian and the counter, cupping the swell of his ass. Dom's hips shift against him, rocking forward, and Brian becomes abruptly—physically—aware that Dom is every bit as turned on as he is.

"Jesus Christ," he gasps when Dom thrusts against him, rough friction as denim slides against the worn fabric of Brian's boxers.

"You wanna kick me out, you do it now," Dom growls in his ear, voice going straight to Brian's already straining dick. "Gonna fuck you if I stay."

Brian can't find enough of a voice to say that if Dom leaves now, Brian will hunt him down and kill him in his sleep. He answers instead by arching against Dom, offering some maddening friction of his own. The movement makes Dom curse and clutch him closer, and Brian grins, then moans when Dom slips a hand down between them and squeezes Brian through his boxers.

"I sure hope you brought something," Brian gasps, because he sure as hell isn't equipped for this. Two weeks in this apartment and no plans to bring any hookups home; he doubts he even has condoms on hand, never mind lube.

Dom laughs against his throat, then lets go of Brian long enough to fish in one pocket of his coat. His hand emerges with a condom and a small plastic bottle, which he sets on the counter like a promise. Brian doesn't even have a chance to suggest they relocate before Dom is grabbing him again, harder this time, turning him and bending him forward. Brian swears aloud in surprise, but doesn't resist as Dom crowds close behind him. Brian's arms are braced against the window sill—the counter isn't wide enough for Dom to press him flat. He can hear the clink and slide of Dom's belt unbuckling behind him. There's a muted thump, leather jacket hitting the floor, and then the unmistakable sound of zipper and fabric giving way.

Then Dom tugs Brian's boxers down with a careless yank, and presses flush along his back. An impatient scuffle sheds Brian's shirt, too, and Dom must have ditched his own when he tossed his jacket aside, because suddenly theres only smooth skin along Brian's spine. He can feel the naked nudge of Dom's cock between his legs, then the momentary distraction of Dom's teeth at his shoulder.

It's a relief when Dom finally slides lube-slick fingers into him. Brian's body is already a disaster of hungry impatience, and though Dom's blunt fingers inside him only add to the cacophony, they're also the promise of exactly what Brian needs. Dom's touch twists and curls, teasing and rough by turns, sending jarring pleasure through Brian every time he hits just the right spot.

Brian hasn't even gotten to feel Dom's cock yet, and he's already making the kinds of embarrassing sounds he'll staunchly disavow come morning.

After an eternity of torment, Dom slips his fingers free. Brian's breath comes in jarring shudders, his senses overwhelmed, his entire body alive with the giddy thrill of Dom holding him down. There's the unmistakable crinkle of foil as Dom tears the condom packet open, and Brian twists to look over his shoulder. He gapes at the sight of Dom rolling the condom onto his hugely impressive cock.

Brian always figured Dom was well hung—and yes, he's spent more time thinking about Dom's dick than he ever plans on owning to—but even with high expectations, he's surprised. His mind blanks for an instant at the thought of that enormous length working its way inside him.

Then Dom is surging forward, curling along Brian's back as the wide head of his cock nudges between Brian's thighs. Brian tries to spread his legs wider, anticipation alive beneath his skin, but his boxers are still bunched above his knees, and he can only spread so far.

Then Dom fucks forward, cock driving in hard and deep. His huge palm covers Brian's mouth, muffling the sharp cry that claws up from Brian's chest as his body gives way. Dom fills him, crushes him against the counter, takes Brian relentlessly with a single greedy thrust. He's still silencing Brian with one hand when he finally stops. Dom's free arm snakes forward, curling around Brian's stomach in a possessive grip that aligns their bodies perfectly. Brian lets go of the window frame and grasps at Dom's arm instead. Dom's muscles are bunched tight with the control it takes to hold still, and if Brian could speak he would tell Dom to fucking move already.

He can't speak. Dom's enormous hand gags and silences him, just as surely as Dom's cock holds him pinioned in place.

"Fuckin' beautiful like this, you know that?" Dom's voice is a taunting purr, violent gravel rumbling in every syllable. "Goddamn perfect. Wanted to fuck you the second I saw you drive." Dom's hips draw back, slow control, then snap forward again roughly, re-seating his cock so deeply Brian's whole body aches.

Brian wants to ask what's taken so long, then. He wants to ask why it's only now Dom is touching him. But he can't speak, and maybe that's for the best.

Dom's hand—the one not keeping Brian quiet—slips down to curl around Brian's dick, but it's no relief of friction that he offers. No, Dom gives a single stroke, then takes a tighter grasp around the base, stopping Brian from even thrusting into his hand. Brian freezes, trembles, tries to draw enough breath through his nose to compensate for the way his head is starting to spin. He's so turned on his every neuron hurts, but Dom seems to be in no rush to finish him off.

"You in some kinda hurry, Brian?" Dom murmurs, pressing the words to Brian's throat. "Got someplace to be? Got better things to do than stand here with my cock in your ass?"

Brian breathes a desperate sound, and Dom laughs against the side of his neck. It's another moment of taunting silence before Dom moves, and then it's only to roll his hips, shifting his cock inside of Brian without pulling out.

"Wasn't sure you'd let me do this," Dom breathes with confessional heat. He gives a stroke of Brian's cock, then stills his grip again, drawing a sound almost like a sob from Brian's throat. "Couldn't tell if I was reading your signals right, or if I just really wanted you to be watching me."

Brian twists helplessly in Dom's arms, angling not to get away, but in search for friction. He can't move, though. Dom is holding him too tightly, impaling him too deeply, pinning him with alarming ease. There's no resisting the wall of muscle restraining him, and Brian hums a broken sound that he thinks—maybe—sounds like a plea.

Dom chuckles darkly, then surges to motion. In the span of a second, he revs from total stillness to fucking Brian in earnest. From the crushing strength in Dom's arm around him—not to mention the violent pounding in Brian's ass—Dom isn't doing anything so needless as moderating his strength. Dom's length rocks roughly out and in, over and over again in a brutal rhythm that sets off sparks behind Brian's closed eyelids. Dom's hand disappears from his mouth, curls around the front of Brian's thigh instead. The position offers more leverage and allows Dom's thrusts to snap even harder into the slick, aching heat of Brian's body. It hurts, but the pain is good. It's perfect counterpoint to the mounting swell of arousal twisting in Brian's blood. It brings everything into sharp focus: the force of Dom's cock inside him, the feel of strong hands pinning Brian to the counter, the slide along his own dick as Dom finally begins stroking him in earnest.

Brian is cursing aloud now, swearing and gasping and making all manner of embarrassing sounds. Dom only fucks him more fiercely, and Brian can't get enough air. He can't find anything to hold onto as Dom takes and takes and takes.

It's Dom who comes first, sinking his teeth into the meat of Brian's shoulder nearly hard enough to draw blood. His fingers around Brian's cock tighten thoughtlessly, perfectly, and Brian tumbles over the savage edge of his own orgasm. He loses cohesion as the world whites out around him.

He thinks he might be shouting Dom's name.

The after should be awkward. There's too much history between them for this to be anything like simple, and Brian is already bracing himself for the worst when Dom slides out of him.

There's nothing hesitant in Dom's eyes, though, when Brian tugs his boxers up and turns to face him. The shadows have faded a little, but there's still too much raw intensity there. Dom is watching Brian with a possessive ferocity that's never been there before—or maybe it has, but Brian's never recognized it for what it really was. It's a look that says Dom came here knowing exactly what he intended to do, and doesn't plan on leaving until he's sure Brian is on the same page.

It shouldn't surprise him when Dom kisses him again, slower this time, more like fondness and less like staking a claim. Brian opens for Dom's mouth, rests his hands on Dom's shoulders, and when the kiss ends they both stare at each other for several taut seconds.

"We good?" Dom asks. His voice is a fucked-out rumble that sends shivers along Brian's skin.

"Yeah, we're good." It's the only answer Brian has to give.