Title :: Defenseless
Author :: obsidianchaos
Fandom // Pairing :: Queer as Folk // Brian x Justin
Rating // Genre :: PG-13 // angst
Summary :: Because, on a normal basis, Brian Kinney was much too proud to admit he cared. Yet, outside the confines of his loft apartment, who would know that he had let down his defenses, just this once?
Notes :: written for 15minuteficlets; word #96 (vitriol). also a one-shot ficlet, so there won't be a continuation.

Something powerful, with a definite vitriol quality flooded his veins, making his body feel like dead weight. Hell, it could have been for all the man knew, but he wasn’t about to get up off his bed and find out. The alcoholic who had been his father was now dead, buried six feet under; somehow this fact wasn’t a consolation. Underneath all that hatred, maybe he had loved Jack, maybe just a little; in a way a son does a father. Or perhaps that was just another lie; one conjured up by the mind of a child who wished for sobriety like it was a winning lotto ticket.

Running tired, leaden hands through sweat-dried hair, Brian Kinney sighed deeply, a soft groan passing his lips as his fingers caught in his brunet locks. He had hoped all the drugs and alcohol, the loud music and sexual atmosphere of Babylon would be enough to erase the pain, the memories, the sorrow that didn’t have a right to exist in the first place.

The bed dipped beside him, someone was there. He tried to turn his head, but the movement alone seemed so complicated, so impossible, that he gave up trying in a matter of seconds. Wait, how had this mystery man gotten into his loft apartment? His lips parted to ask the question, but the opportunity was stolen as the stranger’s lips descended.

It was a kiss made up of familiarity, mint toothpaste and a hint of vanilla that always lingered long after those lips had moved to other wanting patches of skin. Tentative hands began to stroke his exhausted body; hands that he knew were sculpted and elegant, like that of an artist. In fact, they belonged to an artist, a love-struck 18 year old by the name of Justin Taylor. However, in his current naked state, Brian had no room to protest or even attempt to push the youth off as he proceeded to kiss down the firm planes of the advertiser’s torso.

When that devious tongue dipped into his navel, the man who frequented Babylon all in the name of finding a trick was positive that Justin was going to fuck him, to take advantage of his dazed state of mind and finally get to be the dominate one. Imagine his surprise when the blond moved back up the tanned body, placing tender kisses here and there, a sugar candy tongue grazing the skin briefly before retreating. Then those lips were upon his once more, coaxing his mouth open with ease, tangling with his tongue and exploring every liquor-stained corner.

Brian opened bleary eyes to stare into ones that held miniature lights that danced and swirled like faerie lights. A crooked smile graced his lips, which he knew would be bruised and fuller than usual after such a thorough kiss. Justin returned the grin, burying his face into the crook of the other man’s neck, brushing his lips against the skin in unspoken comfort.

Under any other circumstances, the trick-king would have pushed the teenager off; telling him to run home to Debbie’s to do his homework. But tonight, Brian was going to let himself be weak and vulnerable, let Justin stay until dawn and provide the embrace that he needed to hide himself in. Tomorrow, he might return to his normal sarcastic self, or maybe the day after that.

Now was a time for grieving and letting go; for drowning one’s sorrows in the bottom of a bottle, taking a handful of drugs that probably shouldn’t be mixed, and then falling into the arms of the one person Brian Kinney never thought he would see again, much less give a damn about.

Because, on a normal basis, Brian Kinney was much too proud to admit he cared. Yet, outside the confines of his loft apartment, who would know that he had let down his defenses, just this once?