BETWEEN THE SESSIONS
This is what we are loosely calling a "gapfiller" which occurs after Justin has his session with Lydia to discuss Brian. (See DECONSTRUCTING BRIAN, Session with Justin).
Justin was mildly surprised to find Brian waiting for him in the lobby of the building where Lydia had her offices. He had been outside smoking, in a light rain, and the drops darkened his burgundy silk shirt in a random, scattered pattern, as if he had been hit with the arc from a severed artery. His expression was intense as he took Justin's arm and asked, "Well?"
"What did she say about me?"
Justin laughed. "Why is it always about YOU?"
Brian met that facetious question with a glare, and Justin shrugged. "She didn't say anything about you. Just asked some questions about us."
"What kind of questions?" Brian persisted as he hailed a cab and slid inside, pulling Justin in behind him.
Justin wished he had a camera to capture the images he was seeing, for many of them should be memorialized in a painting. The man with the dreadlocks standing under a rainbow umbrella and selling a variety of electronic knock offs. An older lady in a raincoat struggling with two feisty poodles striving mightily to find out if division can truly lead to conquest. Three small girls, one black, one white, one Asian, linking arms and skipping from puddle to puddle. The ugliness that could be this big city had gone into hiding, despite the rain. At least, that's how it appeared to the eye of an artist.
"She asked about our past, what the future may hold..."
"She's a fortune teller now?"
"No, Brian, she was just trying to understand you better."
"Like you know," he huffed, staring out the window. Justin rested a hand on his thigh and felt him tense.
Justin had arrived in town early that morning. Brian had a meeting at work and sent a car to pick him up at the airport. When Justin walked into Brian's suite at the advertising agency, he was greeted by his assistant. She invited him to wait in Brian's office while he finished his meeting in a distant conference room. She brought him a Mountain Dew, glowing like nuclear waste, in a crystal glass. He stood in the center of the room, taking in the improved circumstances of his lover. No more the small interior office he had in Pittsburgh. He was a partner now, despite his relatively young age, and in the home office of the ad firm. This office had two glass walls, with a panoramic view of Madison Avenue and beyond that, the park. The walls were painted a flat taupe with oyster white trim and the furniture was as sleek and Italian as what he had in his loft. A less than fully realized ad campaign for a wireless phone company was displayed on storyboards spread out on a glass conference table. Justin critically surveyed the art, decided he could do better, then sat in Brian's swivel desk chair and spun around twice, careful not to spill the acid colored soft drink on the pristine white carpet.
He came to rest facing the desk, which was well organized, typical of Brian's obsession with order. He lifted a framed photograph of Gus, taken on his second birthday. He smiled at the beaming baby who had his father's handsome features. Another photo was behind it in a matching frame. Justin picked it up and sighed. It was of him, with Brian, taken before they broke up. They were lounging on the sofa together in Debbie's living room, holding hands, his head on Brian's shoulder. Brian looked half asleep, and Justin felt his stomach tighten with emotion as he wondered what Brian thought, looking at that shot, during all the days they had been apart.
"Make yourself at home," Brian said with a sarcastic sneer as he entered the office. He wore a charcoal gray suit with his burgundy shirt and a burgundy and gray silk tie. He looked like a GQ layout and Justin felt shabby and immature in his jeans and thermal turtleneck. He crossed his ankles on the edge of Brian's desk only to have them knocked off with a sweep of Brian's arm. "Get the fuck up," Brian groused, and Justin stood, stumbling, as Brian crinkled his shirtfront in his fist and pulled him against his body. He kissed him squarely on the mouth, not breaking the kiss when his assistant walked in, or when she made a hasty exit.
"You've been outed," Justin teased when he finally let him go. Brian smiled, hanging his jacket in a closet as he took Justin's place in the desk chair. Justin propped himself on the edge of the desk, facing Brian.
"I never was IN," Brian responded, carefully replacing the photograph to where it had been when Justin picked it up. Justin took in his need for precision and smiled.
They stopped and exchanged a smile. "Thank you for doing this, Justin. I don't know why she wanted this meeting but it seemed important to her."
He shrugged. "All expense paid trip to New York? Why not. Besides, we need to talk."
"About your offer. About living together."
"Oh THAT," Brian said with a studied yawn. Justin glared at him. He was fooling no one.
"Yes, Brian. THAT."
"Let's not talk about THAT until after you meet with her."
"Let's just don't."
Justin shrugged, playing along. "Ok by me."
Brian pretended to be seriously interested in a stack of phone messages. "We have time for lunch," he offered and Justin shrugged.
"Then we have time to fuck."
Brian met his eyes and smiled, taking him by the hand and leading him out of the office, instructing his assistant to call him on his mobile if she had to speak with him.
They took a cab to a hotel in Soho. Small, discreet, European. The staff, who were dressed in Italian designer fashions, knew Brian by name. He was given a card key to a room without even having to register. Justin offered him a wilting glare as they rode up in the small, polished mahogany elevator. "Trick here often?"
"Don't be a child," Brian said coolly. "My firm keeps a suite here for out of town VIPs."
"So?" Justin insisted and Brian just laughed as they entered a room at the end of a short hall. It was a Brian kind of place. Spare, but elegant. A king sized bed backed a tufted leather wall, the linens were plain but high quality European, even the pillows were clad in down. There was a fancy electronics system that played DVDs and CDs and a view of a row of trees and refurbished brownstones outside the windows.
"Nice pl..." Justin started to say, but Brian cut him short, throwing him back on the bed with a hard shove. As Justin scooted up the mattress, Brian threw off his coat and climbed on top of the blond, like a drowning man scrambling onto a life raft. Justin gasped as he felt Brian loosening and removing his clothes, seeking his flesh. He shoved his tongue into his mouth and probed while Justin opened Brian's belt and crammed his hand down his pants, stroking his erection.
"Don't...don't..." Brian cautioned him, not wanting to be stimulated any more than he already was, desperate to possess him. The penetration was quick and animalistic, their clothes not all the way shed, the condom making a late and perfunctory appearance just before the point of no return. Justin felt the burn of their bodies joining as it built into extreme pleasure. He reached orgasm a split second before Brian, and then they collapsed together, breathing audibly, a sheen of sweat gluing their bodies into one muscular mass.
Brian finally rolled over and sighed, throwing his arm across his eyes as he waited for his body to return to his control. Justin finished stripping and peeled off the rest of Brian's clothes with great tenderness. He began kissing his neck, his pectorals, running his tongue across his nipples, and down the centerline of his flat belly. Brian moaned softly, criss crossing his fingers in Justin's flaxen hair. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"You've used that line before."
Justin smiled as he began his knowing fellatio. Within minutes Brian was ready to go, the fellatio only firming an erection that never completely subsided. This time the lovemaking was more leisurely than the first time, rediscovering all the delicate hot spots that fueled the fire in their bodies.
Later, while they basked in the warm ennui of the afterglow, Justin whispered to him, "Don't you want to know what I decided?"
Brian moved out from his embrace and went towards the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower. You may want to consider it too. Lydia doesn't need to be assaulted with the funk of our fucking."
Justin rolled his eyes and followed him into the shower, finding his lack of curiosity annoying. Dressed and respectable, again, they returned to the front desk, and dropped off the key to a handsome, leering clerk whom Justin winked at as they left. Brian was silent as they took a cab in the rain to Lydia's office. He told Justin the floor, but stayed in the cab.
"What do I do when my time is up?" Justin asked before he got out and Brian shrugged.
"We'll figure it out. Go."
"Brian, how much do I tell her?"
"Whatever she asks, answer her honestly. Tell her whatever you want. Don't pull any punches."
"Just do it," Brian said, then pulled the door from his grip
and closed it. Justin watched the cab disappear into traffic, before going into
the building for his meeting.
***This is where DECONSTRUCTING BRIAN: Justin's Session fits in***
He wasn't expecting to see Brian when he came out of the elevator after talking with Lydia. Even more surprising was Brian's insistence that he divulge what was said. In the cab, Justin finally exploded at him. "Brian! Stop! This was supposed to be a confidential meeting between your shrink and me. You didn't tell me I was gonna get the third degree when I came out!"
Brian sighed and leaned back against the seat. "You're right. Forget it. What time is your flight back again?"
"I don't have a flight back."
Brian stared hard at him. "Why not?"
"Because I'm moving in with you."
"Just like that?"
"Are you taking back your offer? Since I already broke up with my boyfriend in Pittsburgh to move here, it's more than a little awkward."
"I'm not...it's not that. Did you tell Lydia?"
"What did she say?"
"Not to over sexualize our relationship at first, which I told her was impossible. She suggested I get my own place for awhile, like I can afford that. She also thought she should talk to us together."
Brian told the driver to divert to the hotel where they had sex that afternoon and Justin stared incredulously at him. "What are you doing?"
"The hotel is just a few blocks from my loft. I'm putting you up there for now."
"I have an appointment with Lydia in a couple days, and I'm going to call and tell her I'm bringing you to the session."
"Brian, you can't let your shrink run your life! Don't you want me with you?"
Brian frowned. "I want it, I want it more than anything. But I want to make sure it's right. If Lydia has some ideas, I want to hear them. It's only a couple days, Justin. I'll stay with you at the hotel most of the time. Or you can walk to my loft. It's not a big fucking deal."
"Why does it feel like a big fucking deal?"
"Because you're queening out."
"I'm not queening out! I thought we understood each other!"
Brian smiled. "Since when?"
Justin had to laugh. He began to relax a little as he tried to adjust to this version of Brian Kinney. "Good point. Do I get room service privileges?"
"Yeah, but only the menu, not the waiters."
"Forget it then," Justin joked, staring out the window. He trid to believe this was a sign of progress, not a step back.
Brian watched Justin watch New York pass by, admiring the way his sunny features and pale hair captured the fading light and held on to the last ray of sunshine that peeked through the clouds. He wanted to take him in his arms and hold him tightly against his body. He wanted to kiss him and thank him for coming back home. But he was scared of the implication raised by Justin's commitment, and he wanted to be sure this was handled appropriately for both of them, not just for himself. He trusted Lydia, and valued her insight. He reached out and closed his hand on the back of Justin's neck, massaging it gently. He could feel his tension relax. He leaned into his caress, his eyes closing. "Thank you, Justin," Brian said softly and Justin smiled without opening his eyes.
"For giving me a chance."
Justin moved over to rest the back of his head against Brian's chest for the remainder of the drive. He had waited this long for a new and improved Brian Kinney, what harm could come from a few more days?
Brian appreciated the weight of Justin's head against his heart and felt a blessed sensation as the cab slowly wound its way through the traffic. Brian felt sleepy. Better than that, Brian felt as if he could sleep. The one sleeping aid that worked for him was Justin Taylor. He would tell him so, if he didn't worry whether Justin might find it insulting. There was a lot he wanted to tell Justin, and maybe someday, with Lydia's help, he could.
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July 25, 2004