All the stars may shine
bright,
All the clouds may be white,
But when you smile,
Oh how I feel so good,
That I can hardly wait
To hold you,
Enfold you,
Never enough,
Render your heart to me.
All mine,
You have to be
Chapter 20
How we ended up back here, I don’t know. But here we were, standing in the doorway to Britin. My hands were in my pockets, and I tried to ignore that my palms were sweating.
Fuck.
Justin used the key I’d given him when we first got into
the car in
This was terrifying. This was even more terrifying than the first time I brought him here, because that time I’d really thought that things would work out. That time I was high on shock and it was easy to make dramatic gestures. I’d been in the deep end.
Right now, I was just sitting on the edge, with my feet in the water, wondering if I jump in, would I drown? Last time I’d barely made it out. This time I was sure I’d sink right to the bottom.
So I didn’t barge into Britin (god, I’d never get used to that name) and show it off proudly, sure of myself, confident. Instead, I stood here, trying to breathe slowly and deeply, trying to act as if I was completely unmoved and fine. I was Brian Kinney. I didn’t give a fuck.
Except I did.
The door swung open, and I followed him in. The windows had no curtains on them, but it was dark and cold outside from an approaching winter storm, so the house was dim. I flicked on the light and glanced around.
Justin exhaled slowly, as if he’d been holding his breath for hours. “It’s so… clean,” he whispered. “Shouldn’t it be dusty, or…”
I snorted. “If it was, I’d fire the maid.”
His eyes widened and he turned to look at me.
He looked vulnerable and nervous. Good, I wasn’t the only one.
“Maid?” he asked softly.
I shrugged, as if it meant nothing, as if it was no big deal, as if it wasn’t proof that a small part of me had dreamed of this moment for ten fucking years. “I like things to be clean.”
Justin nodded hesitantly and turned to look back around at the large empty room.
I hadn’t furnished it, beyond a few things here and there. I’d hoped we would pick out all of the furniture together, after the wedding. I didn’t want it to be another loft. I’d wanted it to reflect Justin, too.
How fucking stupid.
I followed him as he walked into the house, and I shut the door behind myself. The inside was cold. It wasn’t as if there had been a reason for the heat to be on.
“It’s cold,” he mumbled.
I nodded. I didn’t offer to turn on the heat. A place this big took a long time to warm up. “There’s the fireplace,” I said.
I could see his back tense.
Fuck this. It was stupid. I put my hands on his shoulders and rubbed gently. “Don’t have a seizure.”
He slowly relaxed in my grip. “It’s just…”
“Yeah,” I said.
He placed his hands on top of mine and moved them from his shoulders, turning to face me. “Why the hell didn’t you sell it?”
I stared back at him. I was going to be honest today. After all, even I could tell that all of my excuses were bullshit when we were literally standing in the house I fucking bought for him, for us to live in together. There was no point in protecting my pride, in trying not to embarrass myself. The embarrassment was all around us. My pride was already destroyed. I might as well be blunt and honest at this point.
“Because I bought it for you,” I said.
His forehead wrinkled in frustration. “Brian-“
“No,” I said, cutting him off. “Listen. I bought it for you. I couldn’t make myself sell it.”
He peered at me, like he was trying to make sense of what I was saying, but he couldn’t quite do it. Instead, he took my hand, squeezed it gently, and led me through the house.
First, the kitchen. I’d gotten a few things for that.
“Brian,” he said softly. “Shit…”
I shrugged. “We’re not exactly within walking distance of the diner. I thought we’d want to be able to eat.”
His eyes widened and he stared at me again. “You mean after the wedding.”
I forced myself not to roll my eyes.
“Shit, Brian…” He looked around at the stainless steel gadgets around the room, the brand new oven and refrigerator that had never been used, the espresso machine, the toaster, the waffle iron.
Yeah, I’d gotten a waffle iron. Like I said, I had been in
shock.
He walked over to the counter and traced his fingers over the iron.
I cleared my throat, feeling stupider by the moment. “I thought you’d make us breakfast.”
“After the wedding,” he said again, even quieter this time.
I didn’t reply. It was obvious what I meant. Yes, after the wedding.
He turned and led me through the silent house. We glanced into large, empty rooms and I knew he was picturing what would have been in them, just like I was. There was the gym. There was my office. There was the library. There was… shit, there was his studio.
And then we got to the bedroom door. He opened it and gasped.
Well, what did he expect? That we would fuck on the floor on our wedding night?
Fuck. Wedding night. Just the thought of it made my ears hot and I knew I was actually blushing. I guess a big enough embarrassment would make even me show some shame.
“Wow,” he said. I followed him into the bedroom and glanced around. Not a speck of dust. Just the huge bed, and the fireplace, and the plush carpet, and the overstuffed pillows.
“White silk,” he said softly, tracing his hands over the sheets. The comforter was already pulled back, so it wouldn’t have been in our way. I wouldn’t have wanted to mess with it when I was carrying him to bed, undressing him. The maid had been given explicit instructions to put everything back exactly as it had been after cleaning, and that included the sheets.
God, I was a mess.
He slowly sat on the edge of the bed and stared out the window. “This was going to be our wedding bed.”
I just stood there, feeling more uncomfortable than I had in my entire life. Every single thing I’d done to make myself unflappable, everything I’d done to put up that wall, every single moment that I’d denied caring for anyone in my life, was destroyed by this place. I was standing in the center of the biggest embarrassment of my life. I sort of wanted to throw up.
“So,” I said, trying again to pretend that I didn’t realize how uncomfortable we both were. “It’ll sell for a lot.”
He bit his lower lip and held out his hand. He wanted me to go to him, sit down next to him on that bed. And fuck me, but I did.
“I should never-“ he started to say, but I stopped him.
“Regret is bullshit,” I said. I sat down heavily next to him and sighed, turning to face him. “You did what you needed to do. You had a lot of experiences you wouldn’t have had otherwise. You learned. You are who you are now because of what you’ve done.”
He sucked on his lower lip and looked unconvinced.
I couldn’t help myself. I reached out and traced my thumb over his lips. “There’s no point in regretting anything. What’s done is done. All you can do now is decide what you want to do from now on.”
He leaned into my touch and stared at me with half-lidded eyes. “I don’t know if you’ll like what I want.”
“If you’re smart, you’ll sell this ridiculous place, move
back to
He took a deep breath and took my hand and squeezed it. “I was a spoiled brat, Brian. I didn’t know… how hard you work. My parents were wealthy, you were wealthy, I had no idea what it meant to have a job, to be able to afford cars and… and fucking estates. But I do now.”
I glanced away, feeling stupid. Sometimes I hated having as much money as I did. It was a little embarrassing. I wanted to be successful, yes, and I did enjoy being able to buy all the expensive shit I liked. But this fucking house… it was ridiculous. Besides, having this much money was stupid, if you didn’t have anyone to spend it on.
“I realize now… what it meant when you bought Britin. You weren’t just making a romantic gesture. You were making an investment… in us.” He looked like he was about to cry. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what. “You didn’t just ask me to marry you because you were scared. You really meant it, didn’t you?”
I shrugged stiffly. “When have you known me to do something I didn’t really want to?”
He blinked hard and reached up to rub his eyes with the hand that wasn’t clutching mine “Fuck. I fucked up so much.”
I couldn’t help it. I leaned in and placed a kiss at the corner of his eye. “You didn’t fuck up.”
“Everyone told me,” he said, leaning against me. I pressed
my face against his and inhaled his scent, wrapping an arm around his waist and
pulling him close. I couldn’t help it. I had to touch him. “Everyone told me
that I had to go to
My grip tightened on his hand and waist, and I bit my lower lip. What the fuck was I supposed to say to that?
“I sold the gallery,” he said, so softly I thought I’d misheard him.
I sat back just enough to see his face and frowned. “What?”
“To my friend… he’d helped me manage it. I sold it to him.” He sniffled and rubbed his eyes with his free hand again, catching the beginnings of tears that had been there.
I didn’t know what to say. I knew I was staring at him with my mouth open and my eyes wide, looking shocked and probably stupid, but I had no idea what to say.
“I’m going to use the money to go back to school.” He
grinned nervously at me, gripping the hand that was still in his tightly. “In
My heart was racing. “You enrolled?” I managed to choke out.
“On Friday, while you were at work,” he said.
“Fuck,” I mumbled, removing my hand from his waist and running it through my hair.
“I’m going to go to school in
I pulled away, yanking my hand out of his, and walked across to the window, even though it was so dark out that I couldn’t see anything at all.
He let out a short, bitter laugh. “It’s too late, you know.”
I didn’t reply. I didn’t know what to say or do. I felt shut down. I felt numb. Maybe I was in shock again. Hopefully this time I wouldn’t buy another fucking house.
“Fifteen years, Brian,” he said softly, and he got up and walked to me. I could see his reflection in the window. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and peered at my reflection from over my shoulder. “It’s been fifteen years since we met. I’ve been in love with you ever since you found me under that street light.”
I wanted to shut my eyes. I wanted to shove him off, to tell him he was being a drama queen, to tell him to stop exaggerating, to leave me the fuck alone, but I couldn’t. Instead, I actually felt myself grin.
I was so fucked.
“Fifteen years is too long to not be together.” He stepped around me and looked me in the eye. “I told you I still love you. I’m not leaving. I’m staying with you this time, Brian.”
I should have kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t. “Oh, this time is different?” I winced as soon as I’d said it. Fuck.
He reached a hand up to my face and touched it gently. It was hard not to lean into his hand. I was so fucking pathetic.
”This time is different.”
I wanted to believe him. Fuck me, but I wanted to believe him so much. I shut my eyes and sighed. “Justin…”
“I know I hurt you when I left. I’m sorry.”
I opened my eyes and meant to tell him that sorry was bullshit, that it was crap, that he was full of shit and to get the fuck out of here, but he was giving me this look… somewhere between desperation and hope. I knew that look. I felt the same way.
Fuck this. I put a hand on the back of his neck and leaned in, kissing him deeply and slowly. He tasted so good. He moaned into the kiss and wrapped his arms around my neck, and I broke the kiss, breathing heavily.
“So what you’re saying is, you can’t live without me?” I arched an eyebrow at him. If he said it was true, I’d know he was full of shit. He was totally capable of living without me. He’d done it for ten years.
“I’m not saying I can’t. I’m saying I won’t.” He stared right back at me, completely sure of himself, completely certain of what he wanted. And what he wanted was me.
It was the sexiest he’d ever been.
I ducked my head and rested it on his shoulder. He put a hand on the back of my neck and let me stay like that for a moment, working his fingers into my hair.
“I can’t go back,” I said, so quietly I barely heard it myself.
“I’m not asking you to,” he said.
“If I do this… I can’t lose you again,” I said, wincing at my own pathetic weakness. Who the fuck ever thought Brian Fucking Kinney would be so… vulnerable? But somehow, right now, I didn’t care. It was Justin. He’d seen me worse off.
He wrapped his other arm around me and held me tightly. I wrapped my own arms around his waist, breathing him in, my face pressed into the crook of his neck.
“You won’t,” he said softly. “I’m yours.”
Mine?
He was mine?
That was the last straw. I pressed a kiss into the nape of his neck, sliding my hands down to his ass, pulling his body tightly against mine. He was hard. Shit. I felt my own body respond quickly, and I was almost dizzy from the blood rushing to my cock so fast.
“Justin,” I whispered into his neck. I didn’t know what else to say. I wanted him. I needed him. I needed him under me, around me. I needed to be in him. I needed to possess him. If he was mine, if he was really mine, I needed to feel it.
“Brian,” he whimpered.
Fuck. No one said my name like that but him. I lifted my head and moved my hands to his hips, gripping them tightly. I kissed him, hard and slow. I was probably bruising his lips, and I didn’t care. He was mine.
The room was cold, and I should have lit a fire, but I didn’t. I didn’t have time. I had to have him now. The kiss deepened, and he was sucking on my tongue. I heard myself moan, and I grabbed his shirt, pushing it up his chest, circling my fingers around his nipples before parting the kiss long enough to rip the shirt off of him.
The moment his shirt was off, I pushed him towards the bed, placing fast, hard
kisses on his lips and neck. He stumbled back and fell onto the bed. Fuck. He
was finally here, before me, on those sheets I’d picked out just
for this. I was going to take him. I was going to claim him. He was
mine.
I ripped off my own shirt and got onto the bed, my legs on either side of his body. He reached for me, but I grabbed his wrists and pinned them at his sides, placing kisses on his chest, slowly working my way down. He wriggled when I sucked on his nipples, one at a time, making his breath come in soft gasps. He moaned and arched his back as my tongue slid down his stomach, towards his pants.
Every sound he made urged me onwards, every movement made me hotter. Suddenly
the freezing temperature in the room was gone. His body was hot, and the closer
I got to the bulge in his pants, the hotter he got. I hooked my thumbs under the
waist of his pants and tugged them down slowly, cocking my head and watching as
his erection was exposed to the air.
He gasped loudly and shifted, lifting his ass, letting me tug his pants and underwear off. I slid my hands down his thighs and spread them, ducking my head and running my tongue down the length of his shaft. He wriggled and moaned, his hands fisting into the silk sheets.
God, I wanted him. My cock ached, straining against my pants. I stood, undoing my fly and letting my pants fall to the floor, followed by my underwear. I tossed a condom and small tube of lubricant from my pocket onto the bed, kicked off my pants, and kneeled back on the bed, between his legs.
He stared up at me from the bed, breathing heavily, his eyes half-shut. “Brian,” he whimpered again. “Take me.”
Fuck. How did he always know exactly what to say to make the fire in me burn even hotter?
I leaned over him, pressing our bodies together, our cocks grinding against each other. I pressed my lips behind his ear and murmured to him, holding back my own need. I wanted him completely mine. I wanted him weak and trembling beneath me. I wanted him to beg. “You’re mine,” I murmured, kissing him behind the ear, where I knew his skin was sensitive.
Goosebumps raised up on his arms and legs, and he thrust against me harder. I groaned in response.
“Justin,” I whispered. “Do you want me inside you?”
“Yes,” he gasped, releasing the sheets and grasping my shoulders, rocking our hips together. Every thrust made my own cock ache more, and I could feel him throbbing against me.
“Do you want me to take you?” I whispered, reaching for the lube.
He didn’t respond in words. He just moaned, nodding weakly.
I popped the bottle open and got some on my fingers, and pressed them to his tight hole.
He breathed in sharply, loudly, and pressed against my fingers eagerly.
Fuck, he was hot. I could barely restrain myself from simply thrusting into him already. He was wriggling beneath me, spreading his legs, and I had two fingers up his tight ass, spreading him, teasing him.
He was panting, whimpering. “Brian, please… please… I need you… please, Brian,” he gasped in between the little noises he kept making.
My restraint was lost, and I ripped the condom wrapper open with my teeth. I didn’t ask him to put it on me. He was too far gone. He probably would have ripped it, and I wouldn’t have been able to stop now, condom or no condom. But I couldn’t blame him, my own hands were trembling, and it felt like it took forever to slide the latex onto my cock.
Finally, with it on, I pressed myself against his entrance. I slid a hand under his hips, lifting him off the bed a bit, leaning over him. I stared into his eyes and slowly pressed into him, trembling from the effort of not thrusting into him in one fast motion. I didn’t want to hurt him.
He let out a long, throaty moan, and stared right back at me. It was so fucking intense, I felt like I could barely breathe. He was tight and hot around me, and his hands gripped my shoulders tightly, and I realized I really had jumped in the deep end, and I really was drowning.
And I didn’t care.
I was buried completely within him finally, and he lifted his head enough to give me a deep, slow kiss, and I sucked on his lower lip, sliding out of him and thrusting back in, almost just as slowly as I had begun.
He moaned again, shuddering under me. “Please,” he gasped.
He wanted it faster? Harder? He wasn’t going to get it that easy. I’d fucked him in as many positions as are possible, and a few I hadn’t even been sure were. I’d taken him hard, fast, lying down, standing up, kneeling, on his stomach, on his back, on all fours… I’d fucked him before. This time I wasn’t simply fucking him. I was claiming him.
This time I was going to look him in the eye, really look at him, and not hold back. This time I wasn’t going to hide how much I wanted him, needed him. This time I was going to take him slow, and make it last, and when he came, it would be all for me.
His face was flushed, and I slid in and out of him, slowly increasing my speed, holding his hips off the bed, knowing I was grinding against his prostate with each deep thrust.
“Brian,” he gasped. “Brian, please… I need you,” he moaned.
I was dizzy, and our bodies were sweaty, and I kissed him again, finally getting faster, and faster, and then I wasn’t thrusting in and out, it was just in, in, in, until all I could feel was him around me, under me, clinging to me. He was gasping my name with each thrust, and his legs were wrapped around my waist.
When I felt his ass clench around me, and my balls tighten, I reached between us
with my free hand, grasping his cock. It was slippery with pre-come, and it only
took three strokes before he was so tight around me, before his head was thrown
back, before his entire body shuddered beneath me and he shot all over our
chests. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I groaned his name, never taking my
gaze from his face, and came hard, so hard that my vision blurred and I felt
like the air had been knocked out of me.
I must have stayed like that, my hand around his softening cock, my lips parted, beads of sweat dripping from my body onto his, for five minutes before I finally came back to myself. I blinked slowly, finally inhaling deeply, and pulled out of him slowly.
He moaned softly, arching his back, his eyes almost shut. His entire body was flushed. He was slick with sweat. He was gorgeous.
I tied off the condom, my hands feeling weak and awkward, and tossed it into the trash next to the bed before collapsing next to him.
We were both panting, and neither of us said anything. We should have gotten up and taken a shower. We reeked of sex. We were coated in sweat and come and saliva.
Instead, I used a silk pillowcase to wipe off his belly and cock, and then my own, before shifting up onto the bed properly, my head on a pillow. I tugged his limp body up next to mine, wrapping my arms around him and holding him tightly against myself. He rested his head on my chest, and I pulled the sheets up over us. He curled up against me, his breathing finally returning to normal.
I shut my eyes. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. I believed him now. We were together. We were really together, and he was here. And he was mine.
Make no mistake,
You shan't escape,
Tethered and tied,
There's nowhere to hide from me.
All mine,
You have to be
***
Song: All Mine by Portishead