Moth for The Star

Apologies for the wait for this chapter, but I have been so busy with work, I have been unable to find the time to write! However, things should start moving a lot quicker now, so expect more soon! I hope you like this chapter, and PLEASE remember to comment; I live for your feedback! Enjoy! XXX

Moth For the Star

609 - Rage, rage. (Chapter 9)

* 1 month later * November 2006

Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

Pittsburgh
JUSTIN:

Brian was on a break from chemo, having finished his 3rd round of treatment. I moved around the kitchen, waiting for him to get back from a trip to check up on Kinnetic, something he had unequivocally insisted on doing alone. The silence had sometimes been tangible and almost awkward between us in the couple of weeks since my arrival. But I was resolute I was not going to try to talk through it with him; that would give him an excuse to point out my decision, question my sacrifice, and there was no fucking way I was going to let him do that. Not again. Not this time. There were good days and bad days: sometimes he was so sick he could hardly talk, and sometimes he felt fine. But for me there was that constant nagging fear, the terror that I refused to acknowledge, that he wouldn't pull through, that we had not yet experienced the worst. 

I looked up as I heard the big metal door slide shut, putting down the wooden spoon I was holding and following him with my eyes as he walked into the loft, shrugging off his jacket and folding it in half before dropping it on the back of the sofa as he passed. 

"How was it?"

He sighed. "Well, Ted and Cynthia have been making a valiant effort, but some clients have dropped out and others have been asking why they can't meet with the boss. And my disposable income is for shit. " 

I smiled quietly. "I'm sure you will manage. You always do."

He gave me a pointed look as he crossed over to the fridge and took out a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and taking a gulp before looking at me. 

"So dear, how are things with you?" He dropped the teasing voice as he lowered his eyes. "Painted anything lately?"

I was caught off-guard. "Excuse me?"

"You are an artist. Have you painted anything?"

"You know I haven't."

He looked away. "Yeah well, you should."

I watched him bemusedly. "Brian. I don't need you to tell me..."

"How to lead your life?" There was something dark and dangerous behind his huge hazel eyes. "I thought I was already. Your decision to become a martyr would be impossible without me. St. Justin..."

I picked up a pot and put it roughly in the sink. "Will you cut it out?"

"Why? So you can continue to delude yourself that you were born to be some faggoty little housewife? A pure sweet homo version of Florence Nightingale? That you deserve nothing better than to cook and clean up and..."

But he got no further because I strode up to him, accidentally knocking the bottle of water out of his hand. It crashed onto the floor and the clear liquid splashed over the wooden boards, but I ignored it. I stepped back from where he stood silenced by my sudden movements and the obvious force of my anger. I had my hands on my hips and my heart was thudding but my voice was calm. 

"Don't think I don't know what you are up to, Mr. Kinney. Trying to anger me so it will be easier for me to leave. Well, let me tell you, Brian, you can say anything you want, make me as angry as you want, push me away as much as you want, because nothing you can do will make me leave. I've made my decision and I'm remaining here, because I love you and I'm staying with you. Whatever happens."

He stared at me for a second and then I saw the fight go out of him and he turned away, his hand going to the back of his neck. He picked up a dishcloth and dropped it on the spilt water, spreading it out with his foot, still avoiding my eyes. The angry blood ceased pulsing in my ears and I went over to him, slowly laying my hand on his warm shoulder.

"When will you ever learn?"

His eyes finally met mine and he drew his lips into his mouth as he looked at me, looked INTO me, in the way only he could do. We stood there motionless for a long moment before his hand gently came up and brushed the hair away from my face where it was falling into my eye. We were so close I could see every detail of his pale flawless skin: the faint beginnings of stubble on his hard jawline; the tiny soft hairs on the bridge of his nose; the full sensual lips, bloodless from sickness; the fine cheekbones, pronounced more than usual in his fatigued face. But his eyes were huge and burned into mine with such intensity I felt I couldn't move. God he was so beautiful. I felt myself grow hard as I moved my hand from his shoulder round to the back of his neck, bringing my other one up to join it, feeling the bumps of his spine beneath the warm smooth skin. Every time I touched him it was like electricity, even after all these years. Just being in his presence sent jolts through me, made my heart skip a beat and took my breath away when he looked at me. Brian's hand was resting lightly on the side of my head from where he had tucked my hair behind my ear. He still had not said a word, but then again we had never really had much need for words; with Brian it had always been easier to speak with actions. And I saw he had accepted defeat. I could still sense the guilt in him, but I felt his relief too, and an intense emotion, radiating out of him in smoldering waves and drawing me to him. I liked to think it was love.

Suddenly I felt his soft lips on mine. Oh sweet, familiar sensation! This is home. Take me home. Always. Forever. His mouth was dry and warm, and I let him pry my lips open with gentle licks, grasping onto him harder as he pulled me in, sucking on his tongue and hearing a quiet huff escape from my chest. One minute I wanted to loose myself in the kiss, be swept away by him like I always used to be, but then I wanted to grasp onto him and hold him close, so close and never let him go. I love you I love you I love you. The thought that he was so sick tightened my throat and prickled my eyes and I closed them as I drew him to me, sliding my hand underneath his shirt, he had already taken off his tie, feeling the soft muscles of his stomach and his rising and falling ribcage as he kissed me, stroking my hair and cupping my face. Oh what have we come to? 

He drew back and fumbled with the buttons on my shirt, pushing it back off my shoulders whilst never breaking eye contact, and I managed to get his off too before he was on his knees in front of me, long fingers popping open my fly. I looked down at him, my cock so hard and straining at the sight of his smooth slender body below me. I didn't understand how people could think that you would get bored with the same partner after a while. Brian was still as mesmerizing to me as when I first met him, but now it was even enhanced by how well I knew his body, his spirit....

My thoughts were cut short as I felt Brian's hand close on the base of my erection. We were in the middle of the floor, garments cast to the side, my trousers crumpled and forgotten behind me. I looked down onto the top of his head, brunette hair seductively shaggy, falling just above his collar, and I fought a terrible duality inside of me, not wanting to do this with him when he was sick and so weak, but also knowing he needed to do it, and would be mortified if I treated him like an invalid. Brian still had his trousers on but didn't seem to care. He kept his cool hand loosely round the base of my cock as he bent his head and gently kissed the tip. I gasped at the sensations shooting like lightning up through my body, bringing my hands up to run through his soft hair, but Brian did not miss a beat. He kissed around the head of my shaft a few times, driving me crazy and eliciting a breathy moan from my lips, before holding me more firmly and taking the tip into his mouth. I involuntarily jerked upwards at the shock of wetness and heat that enveloped me and he chuckled in the back of his throat, moving his spare hand round to support my hip, holding him to me. This was the sweetest kind of torture, and Brian was very good at it. He slowly took a little more of me into his mouth before pulling off until just the head between his lips, leaving me trembling in anticipation. He kept up this unhurried bobbing until I was grasping at his hair and tipping my head back to try to fend off the rolling waves of pleasure that threatened to consume me. I felt him pull off completely and looked down. 

No-one could do this to me but Brian. My cock was hard and throbbing and as I watched, a bead of pre-come leaked out of the tip and glistened in the lamplight. Brian leaned forward and gently licked it off before putting both hands on my hips and taking me into his mouth again. It was all I could do not to yell out because this time he was faster, relentless, licking and sucking up and down my member, running his tongue along the vein which stood out on the underside, before taking it all in and deep throating me. I felt my knees would buckle from the sensation. Brian did this thing where he would deep throat you and then just before pulling off he would squeeze the head of your cock with the muscles at the very back of his throat. It was almost unbearable and I never lasted with him doing it more that three times before I came. But this time he only did it once and then pulled off, breathing fast and grinning up at me while I gazed down at him with glazed eyes. I love you. I love how you let your guard down with me and no one else. I love how you are so fucking stubbornly selfless. Brian went back to my aching erection, his hands firm behind me, and when he took me in his mouth again and opened his throat I unintentionally thrust my hips forward. 

Surprisingly, he kept still and let me fuck his throat. New jolts shot through me at this realization. I was the only one Brian trusted enough to do this with. It made him too vulnerable, too open. I loved him so much in that instant, as I tried to keep my thrusts shallow enough not to choke him. After a minute, with Brian only pulling off a couple of times to breathe, I knew I was teetering on the edge. Brian knew it too and the next time I touched the back of his throat he tightened it and swallowed around me. I came with a shout and an explosion of flashes behind my eyes, quivering with the pleasure that pulsed through me. I could feel Brian swallowing as I came in his mouth. My whole body was convulsing with the intensity of my orgasm and it took a minute for me to come back to earth. 

When I opened my eyes I was standing in the middle of the floor, Brian still knelt in front of me, his lips slightly swollen and his face flushed. I let out a huge shuddering sigh, feeling completely limp, the sensation still returning to my fingers and toes.

"Fuck, Brian."

He smiled as he rubbed my middle, below my navel. "I thought we just did." 

And I laughed and cradled his head and he rested it on my stomach for a few seconds, while our breathing returned to normal. And then he got up and I started to stumble to the bedroom, falling onto the soft sheets, feeling completely boneless and more contented and relaxed then I had in a long time. I saw him come to the entrance and laugh. 

"Did I wear you out that much, Sunshine?' He smiled as he carefully slipped off his trousers, only wincing a little at the fresh scar on his inner thigh. "Maybe there ARE benefits to being a housewife..."

He stopped as I pulled him down beside me and silenced him with a lingering kiss. "Shuddup asshole."


***


DEBBIE'S HOUSE

The Marcus-Petersons arrived early at the Novotny house with some brownies and homemade lemonade. It was Justin's 25th birthday and Debbie had insisted on hosting "A lovely party for Sunshine, surrounded by family and friends, not all alone in New York!". As Mel unloaded Gus and JR and the presents from the car, Lindsey carried the food through to the kitchen where Debbie was going full steam ahead. 

"Oh there you are, honey!" She called out as Lindsey set the tray and jug down on the table, which was covered by a hideous plastic tablecloth sporting yellow rabbits against a purple background. "I am almost done here, will you just pass me that whisk? Thanks sweetie!"

Lindsey looked around the familiar room, so homely with its culinary smell, garish colors and dated decor. "It's really kind of you to throw Justin a party" she smiled, and Debbie huffed. "It's what I do for my children. And Sunshine deserves a party now that he is back with us. He did so well out in new York, making a success of himself! But I really don't know how WE all did without him for nearly a year and a half..." 

She trailed off and Linds nodded silently in agreement, busying herself with arranging the growing stacks of food on the table. She suppressed a smile as she thought about how happy Brian and Justin seemed now. They simply fitted together so well. It was as if they had never been apart. Not many relationships can withstand that kind of trial, she pondered as she carefully removed the cling-film from her brownies. To still be sure that they wanted each other after 5 years together and then over a year apart... they must have something very special. Anyone who ever doubted that Brian Kinney could love, or thought that two men are incapable of commitment, this proved them wrong, Lindsey mused. And a warm glow spread from her heart through to her hands; she was a romantic at heart and had always wanted things to work out into a fairy-tale ending. Except it wasn't a fairy-tale ending. The chocolate on the brownies suddenly seemed sickly and vile as Lindsey stared at them, the glow vanishing and ice flowing into her stomach. Brian was sick and no-one knew whether he would make it. Lindsey could kick herself for getting caught up in her silly childish fantasy. Her eyes prickled as she hurriedly finished preparing the platters, wiping her hands on her apron and moving through to the richly decorated living-room, soon to be crammed with guests. 

Melanie brought the children through, grinning at her wife as she straightened Gus's smart clothes and glanced at the wall-clock. "Not long now." she said and Lindsey nodded, smiling at her son and noting, for the thousandth time, how much he looked like Brian. 

Sure enough, people started arriving and whilst Melanie went to tear Debbie away from the kitchen, Lindsey took up hostess duty. With Gus beaming beside her, she stood by the entrance to welcome the guests. As Carl came down the stairs from where he had been getting ready, she opened the door to Michel, who hugged her and went in search of JR, and Ben, who kissed her on the cheek and handed her a bottle of wine with a smile. Emmett swooped her into a multi-coloured and plastic-smelling hug (it was the trousers), Jennifer embraced her and laughed warmly; Ted pecked her on the cheek and tousled Gus's hair, making the child duck away and rub his own hair to straighten it again. Blake, however, squatted down and shook Gus's small hand. Lindsey loved him for that. But she knew who Gus was really waiting for: as Brian and Justin came to the door, the little boy uttered a squeal of "Daddy!" and shot into his father's arms. Brian swung him round gently, as much as he could do in the cramped doorway, as Justin hugged Lindsey and began to take of his scarf. Brian looked slightly better, Lindsey thought, as she watched him greet his son. He was still pale, but he looked less haggard and thin. His eyes were clear and mischievous as they met hers over Gus's rumpled brown hair, and she smiled back at him, more glad to see him than ever. 

As Brian pressed soft outdoor-cold lips to hers and followed Justin through to the living room, Lindsey gazed after him. Yes, he was definitely happier, but was that because he had had good news from the doctors, or just because he was with his partner? She shook the worries from her mind and turned her attention to Justin, who, having taken off his coat, was being welcomed by his friends. He looked radiant in a pale blue shirt which contrasted with his shining blonde hair and set off his deep blue eyes. Open at the collar, it revealed his ivory skin, flawless and boyish, but his expressions and his physique revealed his true age, as he accepted gifts and exchanged greetings. Justin's face had changed gradually, Lindsey thought, recalling the enthusiastic youth who had burst into the maternity ward on Brian's heels. His features had become stronger, more masculine and thoughtful, and the infantile softness had gone from his cheeks. As she watched, Justin turned and flashed her a gentle smile and Lindsey smiled back. 'I guess we have all changed since then' she thought, before tucking her hair behind her ears and joining the gathering. 

Sometime later in the evening, after food had been served and presents opened and alcohol consumed, Melanie rested her head on Lindsey's lap as they reclined on the couch. Linds was driving later so she absently stroked her wife's hair and kept an eye on the children as they played on the rug near the coffee table. Guests were spread out around the house: Brian and Justin shared Deb's big armchair, or rather Brian sat in it and Justin sat half on him, half on the arm of the monstrous piece of furniture. Emmet was in avid conversation with Carl, Michael was playing with JR, Ted and Blake were joking with Debbie by the stairs, and Jennifer was chatting with Ben. The atmosphere was comfortably familial and Lindsey felt a rush of gratitude that she and Mel had moved back to be where they were loved. 

Eventually, Debbie got up to clear some of the building dishes, Justin rising to help her, and Lindsey looked down at Melanie. "Aren't you glad we moved back here, to our home?" She asked.

Melanie opened one eye and groaned. "Jeez, you do pick the best times to become contemplative don't you?" She chuckled. "How come you are thinking about that now, honey?"

Lindsey glanced up at the children before answering. "Well, its just.... it's so nice to feel part of a big family. I missed that in Canada. We didn't know anybody there. There were no birthday parties to go to, no people to welcome us. It just really makes one realize how precious friends are, especially since they won't be around forever..." She trailed off and her hand stilled on Melanie's hair. Her partner sat up and shrugged off Lindsey's arm, looking her in the eye. But before she could speak Lindsey continued, hurriedly.

"It's NOT just about Brian, you know it isn't. I mean, it IS lovely for Gus to have his Dad, and..." She lowered her voice. "Knowing how sick he is, I think it is important we are here. But you know as well as I do, we do belong here. This is our home. I just can't believe we ever left..."

Melanie sighed and rubbed her wife's back. "I know sweetie. I know." She leaned in, curiosity in her eyes. "Do you think Justin is asking himself the same thing?"

But before Lindsey could answer there came a commotion from the utility room. Raised voices pierced the thin walls of the Novotny ground floor and Ted dropped his glass in surprise. The shouts were muffled and indistinct, but words and phrases crashed through to the living room, which was now in a commotion. 

"HOW DARE YOU?" ...

"Please stop" ... 

"PUNCHED HIM" ... 

"Think clearly" ... 

"GIVEN UP ON HIM" ... 

"Justin" ...

Lindsey saw Jennifer flinch and Brian rise from his chair as they recognized Justin's voice, along with Debbie's. Just as Brian strode to the kitchen, Justin walked though the doorway adjoining it, his face concentrated with hurt and rage, his eyes a scalding fierce blue, his jaw hard and set. He grabbed his coat, said quick goodbyes to those still sober enough to comprehend, and strode towards the door. Brian looked around confusedly before he too picked up his coat and headed out after his partner, squeezing Lindsey's shoulder in farewell as he passed. 


*** 


JUSTIN'S POV

It had all been a wonderful evening, filled with laughter, and I was so grateful for Debbie's hard work and unfailing generosity in throwing me an albeit embarrassing but unquestionably heartening get-together. For the first time since my return a month before, I felt like I was truly back, amongst my family. The family I had had since I was 17 years old. The family who had accepted me for who I was and supported me though my insecurities, my tantrums, my traumas. It had all been so joyful and warm. Until Debbie got me to one side and started talking to me. It was late in the evening; the party was winding down and we were in the pantry, sorting out the used dishes and storing food which had not been eaten. I think she thought she was doing me a favor. She probably figured I would appreciate and benefit from her wisdom, maybe even draw comfort from it. But she took it too far. I was wiping clean a freshly washed tray when she stopped rolling cling-film onto a plate of sandwiches and spoke. 

"You know, kiddo. I am so glad you came back."

I smiled. "Me too, Deb."

She continued. "But, Sunshine, I think you gotta be prepared for the knocks, if they come, and I pray they don't..." Before I could ask her to what she was referring, she continued. "When I was looking after Vic, and he seemed better for a long time, you remember that don't you Sunshine, well, I thought because I loved him he couldn't die. Couldn't leave me. And that's a very stupid thing to think. Death is never easy. And Loss, well, Loss is worse. I should have prepared myself earlier, not taken any moment for granted..."

"Deb, what are you talking about?" I interrupted her, knowing full well what she was getting at and feeling the cold snake of shock uncurling in my stomach.

"I just want you to be prepared, honey..."

I set the dish down with a clang. "What?"

"For when, if... Brian... He is very sick, Justin. I just want you not to be hurt."

I stared at her, the rage and fear boiling up in my throat. "You speak as if he is going to die."

Her eyes found mine and she reached out for me. "He's got cancer, sweetheart."

My bewilderment and terror, and perhaps also denial got the better of me. "HOW DARE YOU? How dare you condemn him like that! You of all people should know that illness is not necessarily a death sentence! You never gave up on Vic, NEVER!"

She tried to placate me. "Sunshine, I didn't mean it like that, please stop..."

But I was fuming. "When Brian was careless in mentioning Vic's life YOU PUNCHED HIM! And now you do the same thing. No! Even WORSE, because Brian is not even dead!"

Her hands were clutched on her chest. "Justin, honey. Just calm down and think clearly! I was trying to help you prepare incase..."

I snatched off my apron and put it on the side. A bitter taste in my mouth. "Incase? Incase? You've GIVEN UP ON HIM! Is this what it takes for you to 'let go'? Not even TRYING to fight for him? Well, I'm sorry, but I will, until the end!" 

And with that, I opened the door and walked away from her, ignoring her protest "Justin!" and marching straight past Brian who was coming to check on the commotion. I momentarily worried whether he had heard our conversation, but then I couldn't think of anything anymore, only the blinding fear, and the feeling of being dropped back to earth with a agonizing jolt, and the overpowering sense of betrayal, and the need for cool, empty night air. I knew I was being a drama queen, but I didn't care. I grabbed my coat, aware of Brian watching me, I took my leave of the others and hurried out the door. Once in the black night I jogged down Deb's front steps out of reach of the porch lights and stood by Brian's car, hands shoved in pockets, frosty puffs of breath barely visibly in front of me, heart still pounding and thoughts screaming. After a minute I felt Brian come up behind me. He wrapped his arms around my chest and pushed against my back. I wanted to hug him, hold him, but my anger came out on him. 

"Get off me." I snapped, struggling half-heartedly.

"No."
 
The more I pulled at his arms, the tighter they wrapped around me, and his weight pressed against my back, almost making me stumble forward. I wanted to hit him, and I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to get away from here, and I did not want to go home to normality and fear. I wanted him to leave me alone, and I wanted to never let him go. I wanted him to be cold and uncaring and I wanted him to reassure me. And then I felt angry at myself for being such a stupid faggot and shouting at Deb. And then I just felt tired. Our breathing perforated the otherwise silent night. After a minute of tense hostile silence, I eventually relaxed, gave in and leant my head back against his coated chest. He didn't ask questions, he just lowered his chin and very gently kissed my cold cheek as my head was tipped back on him. Then, in true Kinney style, he raised his lips to my ear and in a sultry, if slightly shivery voice, said:

"Now, can we get in the car? Because I am fucking freezing."


***


THE LOFT

Later that night Brian awoke to the sound of a clatter. He raised himself on one elbow, hand shielding his eyes from the muted light coming out of the kitchen area. He could make out the figure of his partner cursing and bending down, moving about behind the counter. Brian ran his hand over his face, shaking the last remnants of sleep from his head, and ignoring the familiar pain in his abdomen before sliding his legs round to the side of the mattress, slipping on a pair of navy sweat pants and heading out of the bedroom. He walked barefoot slowly and quietly to the metal beam by the kitchen, where he leant, arms folded, watching Justin. The other man was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and was immersed in cleaning the counter. Brian saw a feverish glow emanating from him, as it did when he was troubled. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were dark and brooding when he looked at Brian.

"You should go back to bed."

Brian didn't move. "Do you know what time it is?"

Justin glanced at the wall clock with disinterest. "Near 3.30. I guessed it was about that."

The taller man sighed, and came round from his position against the pillar, blocking Justin's way and forcing him to make eye contact. "Come to bed."

Justin tried to avoid him. "I can't sleep."

"Good, then you can blow me."

Brian smiled a little as he said this and Justin broke into a short laugh. "Ever the romantic!" He affirmed quietly, seemingly slightly surprised by the old words falling into his mouth. Brian, by way of answer, raised his hand to the back of Justin's neck and smoothed the hair there, feeling the golden tresses fine and soft beneath his fingers.

"Come on."

With that he began walking backwards, flicking off the kitchen light as he passed, pulling Justin by the neck, only turning around and walking to the bedroom when Justin gave up and came willingly. Once in semi-darkness, with the wall-light above the bed off and the only illumination the streetlights filtering through the Jacques Garcia blinds, Brian sat down on the bed and pulled Justin down beside him, causing the younger man to laugh as he bounced slightly.

But Brian sat quietly, studying the grey flagstone floor, long legs crossed in front of him. Eventually he looked at Justin, undemanding, not pushing, simply letting him know he was open to hearing an explanation. Justin felt Brian’s gaze and shifted uncomfortably, running his hand through his beautiful hair and shaking his head in that adorable way he did, as if he could dislodge unwanted thoughts. Blue eyes, almost navy in the darkness, met Brian’s, and Brian ignored his own tiredness and weakness, distinguishing his lover’s flawless features in the gloom, smooth and warm and so… Justin. Brian wanted to kiss him, to fuck away his problems, but he knew it wasn’t what Justin needed and remembered with a pang that his own body was not up to it either. So he sat still whilst Justin reassured him.

“It’s nothing, really Brian. Deb just said something that annoyed me. I really shouldn’t have queened out. It was stupid and immature. I will go over there tomorrow and apologize. I’m fine. I just couldn’t sleep. I'm sorry I woke you.”

As Justin talked, his voice mature and calm, Brian looked down and saw his partner’s hand, his right hand. With all the force of old memories and forgotten suffering he saw that it was shaking. The old twitching quiver so familiar and yet so distant, the spasms which betrayed Justin’s feelings even when he was putting on a brave front. With a tightening in his chest, Brian gently took hold of the strong but now useless fist and Justin’s eyes avoided his in silence. Immediately Brian stood up and padded barefoot to the bathroom, feeling Justin’s gaze burn into his back. When he returned, carrying a small bottle, he saw Justin jerk, an internal struggle taking place as he recognized the old massage oil from years before. It was a new bottle, obviously, but the same brand. Brian paid him no attention and went back round to his side of the bed, silently sitting back down and pouring a little oil into his hand, old routine, warming it slightly before taking Justin’s reluctant palm and rubbing small circles in the pad of the thumb where he knew it relaxed and reduced the shaking.

After a minute, Brian felt Justin look at him, and raised his own head too. Their eyes met and Justin tried to protest:

“Brian…”

But he was silenced when Brian bridged the small gap between their heads and kissed him; a light, chaste, loving kiss. He could feel a slight dampness on Justin’s cheeks, and his heart pulsing through the warmth of his lips. Brian continued to rub the oil into his lover’s hand, working each muscle, hoping that he could alleviate Justin’s distress as he felt the tendons relax and the convulsing cease. Justin released a sigh and leant slightly against him, both of them absently watching his hands covering Justin’s. Brian barely heard it; it was breathed quietly, as is Justin were talking to himself.

“Thank you.”

In answer Brian kissed the still-tousled hair on his shoulder and felt Justin’s other arm come round and stroke his back. The right hand was now still in his lap and all was quiet. Justin took off his jeans and in a warm mantle of sleepiness, the edges of furniture silhouettes became hazy and gray. Brian lay back on the pillows pulling Justin against him, feeling the weight of the slack muscles in Justin’s arms and curling his fingers into the flaxen hair. Oh to stay entwined forever, where no worry, or sickness, or offence could permeate. They were still and comfortable as sleep drifted down to cover them. They could talk in the morning.


***


END OF CHAPTER

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