This isn’t what I would call a story- it’s more like a few mental and emotional meanderings Justin asked me to write down for him. He wants you to know that this takes place well after season 5 but that, as far as both he and I know, it contains no spoilers. It’s just his heart, open as it always has been, speaking to us about the man he loves.

Oh yeah... and it was inspired by a lovely little tidbit triciaqaf did yesterday in her journal. Thanks Tricia!



Just Now

We don’t ever talk about it. If we did, it might stop. I don’t ask if I can and he doesn’t ask if I will, it just happens when it happens, and when it does, and he’s shivering and moaning softly and pushing back onto me, we both know, in the silence between us, that it will happen again. And again.

Brian knows I’m a top. I’m not as emotionally wedded to it as him. It’s not about ego for me, or control or the lack of it. It’s not about needing to be powerful or having anything to prove. For me, at least with tricks, it was always just about how it felt, how tight and wet and oh fuck, how hot it was, like a furnace squeezing down on my dick.

And when I do it with him, when he allows it, it’s not about dominating him- or at least, it’s not exclusively about that because I’ll admit that sometimes I do indulge in those feelings. But more than that, for me, when I take him, when he opens up to me and lets me in, it’s about how much I love him and him telling me without having to say it how much he loves me, trusts me. Wants me.

So tonight, when I was touching him, making him smile, making him horny, making him love me, when I stroked my hands down his sides and he closed his eyes and rolled onto his stomach, there was no hesitation in my kisses or the way I sighed into his neck. Because that’s part of it, too. If I fumble, if I show him anything but strength and confidence, it ruins it for him. He’s never babied me and he never wants to. If I’m going to fuck him, I’d damned well better be prepared to fuck him like a man because he sure as hell is going to take it like one.

The only difference lately, the only thing that makes this both new and familiar for us at the same time, is the lack of latex.

Against all odds, and despite the dire predictions of everyone we know, he committed himself to me more than a year ago. It was another thing we didn’t talk much about because when Brian makes grand gestures, you don’t swoon over them unless you want to watch him recant.

So when we stretched out one night to sleep after a couple of good, hard fucks and he turned to me and told me in a voice heavy with exhaustion that tricking had started to bore him because, “I’ve got you trained better than any trick to suck my dick just the way I like it,” I didn’t treat it as what it was: a declaration of love. I merely agreed that tricking was getting boring and that I didn’t have any problem giving it up.

He’d wrapped his arm around my waist, snugging me up closer to his body and said, “Well, if you want to, I guess we can. But only if you’re bored.”

“Yeah,” I had agreed, trying to sound disinterested, “I guess I am.”

“Ok,” he’d answered, and was asleep in minutes.

Many months later, when he came home with the results of his latest HIV/STDs test and quietly slipped it into my hand with a smile lighting his face like none I’d ever seen him wearing, the level in the condom box stopped going down for good.

And now, still craving him as I always have, like water and air, pushing into him is the most natural feeling I’ll ever have. We don’t talk about it. We don’t need to. Because after almost seven years in his bed, the bed that we’ve made ours, the only discussion I need to have tonight is one filled with his sighs, gasps and the trembling silence of his devotion.

The End