Title: Mechanical Michelangelo - Ch 41-50
Author: Mohawk
Rating: Adults Only
Disclaimer: Queer as Folk belong to Russel T Davies, Cowlip, etc, I don't own anything.
Feedback: Is adored
Spoilers: Slight season 1
Summary: What if Brian didn't find Justin when he ran away to New York in season 1? How would Justin cope on his own, in a strange city? Could his art be his only salvation? The title was inspired by Sarah Hall's The Electric Michelangelo

Go back to Chapters 31-40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Justin heaved over the toilet, this mornings forced breakfast coming back with a vengeance. There was a knock on the door and he ignored it at first, hoping whoever it was would go away.

His stomach churned again and he leaned over the bowl until all he was bringing up was stomach acids. He reached up for some toilet roll and wiped his mouth, before slouching back down on the floor.

“Justin? Are you OK? Let me in.” Brian rattled the door handle enough for him to worry about the safety of Deb’s bathroom door.

Still feeling light headed he pulled himself up and unlatched the door, Brian slipped inside and locked the door behind him.

“You OK?” He stared at Justin’s sweaty forehead and resisted the urge to feel for a fever.

Justin shook his head and closed his eyes. “No, I’m not alright.” He could feel the tears form behind his eyelids, he tried to will them away, he’d done enough crying in front of Brian, he had to be strong, even if he did feel like breaking down.

He took a deep breath, got himself under control and opened his eyes. They were glistening with unshed tears, but at least they hadn’t fallen yet, until they trickled down his cheek they could be ignored.

“When things got tough before, I just picked myself up, tried to make it better. I don’t know how to do that now.” Justin folded his arms around himself. “All the other times I had one constant. My art. Now I don’t have that, I feel lost, more than lost.” He raised his eyes to Brian. “I feel dead inside.”

Brian’s face contorted in pain at Justin’s admission. He took a step closer to the blond and pulled him into the warmth of his own body, holding him until Justin unfolded his arms and placed them on Brian’s waist.

“You won, Justin.” Brian murmured into Justin’s hair.

Justin pulled back enough to look up at Brian. “Did I? Did I really? Because it doesn’t feel like it. I’d give it all up if I could have my arm back in working order.”

“You’ll do it.”

Justin wasn’t so sure, even if he regained most of his motor skills, would it be enough to tattoo? It took a skilled precision and a steady hand more akin to a surgeon than a painter, who could be free with his paintbrush, happy to experiment and joyful over mistakes turned good.

Tattooing wasn’t like that, he couldn’t afford for his hand to start shaking, to twitch. He would not only be ruining art, he’d be ruining somebody’s skin, something that would be hard to undo.

“Are you ready to come out of hiding?” Brian asked, rubbing small circles on Justin’s back.

Justin glared at the locked door and the masses of people on the other side. “I don’t know most of them.”

“You know Deb; she got excited and invited everyone back for a celebration party in your honour.”

Justin sighed, knowing he should feel happy, grateful that Deb cared so much, grateful that so many strangers cared too. He could still feel the shock as he saw people pile into the court room, all wearing familiar black wife beaters bearing Mechanical Michelangelo logo.

It took away the bone shaking fear of setting eyes on Chris Hobbs for the first time since the attack.

The wife beaters showed off bare flesh, skin that was marked with unusual designs in an array of different colours. Justin remembered most of the tattoos, even if he didn’t remember the people.

It was amazing how much more confident he felt with a room full of strangers on his side.

It was a subtle show of support, one that probably went by unnoticed by Chris Hobbs, but not by Justin, who saw the thought and effort put in by a group of strangers, so they wouldn’t look outrageous, but at the same time would show unbending support in him and his career.

“Do you want to leave?”

Justin nodded, relief evident on his face. As nice as it was for everyone to support him and want to celebrate he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that Chris would come out of the group of strangers and attack him again.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” Justin reached round Brian and unlocked the door, opening it and following the noise back down to the living room and kitchen.

The downstairs of Deb’s tiny house was filled to the brim of people laughing, drinking and eating, celebrating for him.

It made Justin smile, made him wish he could be part of that, could feel the victory like they did, but for him it was a slim victory, what he wanted wasn’t possible. Going back in time and preventing it from happening was as impossible as Chris feeling sorry for what he had done.

No, Chris’ only sorrow was getting caught, getting put behind bars and having to pay the weak little fag compensation.

He spotted his mom in the corner talking to Vic and made his way over. Brian followed, his hand on the small of Justin’s back, giving him strength to walk through the crowd of people and talk to his mother.

“Justin!” She spotted him and beamed. “Do you want a drink? I’ll get you one…”

Justin put his hand out to stop her, he didn’t bother explaining that he couldn’t mix alcohol with his pills. “No it’s alright, I’ve had enough, I just came over to tell you I’m heading off.”

Her smile wavered and Justin hated how it made him feel guilty.

“He’s beat, he’s going to get some sleep before therapy tomorrow.” Brian put in.

“Of course, you need to be in top form for tomorrow.” She hugged Justin, unaware of the stiffness in the set of his shoulders. “I’m proud of you baby.”

He pulled himself out of her arms and gave her a strained smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Tell everyone thanks for coming, will you?” She nodded and Justin turned away, following Brian, but stopping as he spotted Mel and Lindsey.

They stopped talking as he walked towards them, both giving him huge grins, their smiles were infectious and he grinned back, kissing Linz on the cheek and then hugging Mel tightly. “Thank you.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek and pulled away, looking back at Linz. “You got yourself a kick as lawyer there.”

Smiling at Brian, he allowed the older man to lead him out into the night.

***

Justin woke up feeling fuzzy, he shook his head, hating the way the drugs made him feel. He padded over to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water, taking a few gulps before he spotted Brian working at the computer in the dark.

“Working in the dark is bad for your eyes.” He said, leaning down and pressing his cheek to Brian’s,

“Not working, just surfing.” Brian turned his head and captured Justin’s lips with his own. “Feeling better?” Brian stood up, rolling the kinks out of his shoulders and took the bottle of water from Justin’s hand, swallowing the dregs left inside.

Justin’s eyes dilated as he watched, there was just something so sexual watching Brian drink from his bottle, putting his lips where his had been.

“Justin...” Brian moaned, watching as Justin took the empty bottle from him and placed it on the computer desk. He traced the older man’s cheek, feeling stubble tickle his sensitive fingertips.

Frowning as the gloves took away some of the sensation, he used his teeth to rip the Velcro apart and eased them over his hands, letting them drop to the floor. He cupped Brian’s cheek, happy now he could feel the warmth of Brian’s skin seep into his palm.

Brian placed his hand over Justin’s capturing it against him, and turned his face sideways, until his lips brushed Justin’s hand. He darted his tongue out and licked a strip of skin, making Justin moan as the moist heat shot electrical currents up his arm and down into his cock.

Justin let out a deep, shuddering breath, stepping flush against Brian until he felt the other man’s hardness pressing against him. He swallowed the unnecessary fear that tried to spill out, over him and concentrated on the feel of Brian, the scent that was his alone.

Expensive shampoo and subtle aftershave mixed with the smell of tobacco, it was comforting, it was hot and it made him hard. He bought both hands up and around Brian’s neck, purposely threading his right hand through silken brunette strands of hair.

“I want you inside me,” Justin murmured, smiling as he felt the tension leave Brian’s body.

Brian gathered him close, and dipped his head, taking Justin’s mouth with his in a deep, long drawn out kiss.

Justin clenched his fingers in Brian’s hair, letting the sadness of weakened fingers fly over him with each breath Brian breathed into their kiss.

They made it to the bed and both undressed quietly, each watching the other. Justin smiled as Brian crawled onto the bed, and climbed on after him with much less finesse.

Brian kissed him again, short, shallow kisses that drove him wild. He felt as if his heart had started to beat in time to each kiss, until he changed the pace, faster, deeper.

Any worries Justin may have had disappeared as Brian took his time kissing him, kissing away the stress of the day and the sadness that came with it.

Justin moved his hips, crying out as his erection brushed against Brian’s thigh, he pumped his hips again and Brian trailed a hand down his chest to his hip, stopping his actions.

Crying into Brian’s mouth in frustration, Justin yanked at Brian’s hair, annoyed it had no affect on him. Shifting under the taller man slightly, he was able to brush his thigh against Brian’s erection, causing Brian to pause and pull away from their kiss.

Justin looked up into eyes dilated with lust and hopefully, something more. He reached down, grasping Brian’s cock, pumping slowly, making Brian’s breath hitch.

“I want you inside me.” He repeated. He didn’t want to wait, didn’t want anything between them. He wouldn’t let anything else spoil this, spoil whatever could be between them.

Brian reached over him and dropped a condom and lubrication between Justin’s spread legs. He leaned down and pressed a teasing kiss to the tip of Justin’s cock before opening the condom and rolling it over his own erection.

Justin grasped his wrist before he opened the small tube of lube and Brian stilled, looking up at him with worry etched over his face. Justin bit his swollen lips, shredding pieces of skin between his teeth. “Just–go slow,” he finally managed.

Brian squirted the cool liquid onto his fingers and circled Justin’s hole with it. “Like the first time.” He pressed a finger inside, taking his time preparing him, brushing against his prostate.

Neither admitted that this was as different from the first time as they could get.

This was more than sex.

Brian covered his cock quickly with the left over lube and pulled Justin’s legs high up on his waist, positioning himself at his hole and pressing inside slowly.

This was more than a one night stand, and even though no words were spoken, even though they would both deny it in the harsh light of day, it was love.

Chapter 43

Justin’s skin was drawn tightly over his face, and his lips were a tight line as he fought not to panic. He held his body stiff, eyes scanning every strange person that walked past them.

He didn’t want to be here, surrounded by so many strange people, but he wasn’t going to let his friends leave without a proper goodbye. They’d stayed in the Pitts for a long time, helping him in his recovery and he’d do this for them, even if he could do little else.

Brian stood so close their arms brushed together as they walked. Justin refused to reach for his hand and hold on for dear life, instead he tried to pay attention as Cam chattered.

He was going to miss that chatter, he was going to miss how Cam instantly knew what was wrong and how to make him feel better.

Cam placed a tender hand on Justin’s arm, pulling his attention back to the present. “I could stick around if you wanted me to.”

Justin shook his head, knowing he had to get through this alone, he glanced at Brian, or relatively alone, “You’d lose your job.”

“I could get another job.”

“You worked hard for that job, we worked hard for our life in New York, I’m not letting you throw that away, Cam, you can just keep it warm for when I come back.”

“I will, baby.”

“And you’ve always got a gob at Michelangelo’s, you know that don’t you?” Bren raised his eyebrow, dark eyes piercing into Justin’s, willing him to understand.

“I know, you’ve already told me that.” Justin gave a strained smile, knowing that, if he couldn’t go back to tattooing, there would be no way he could work at Mechanical Michelangelo’s again, it would be just too painful.

“I’ll send your tattoo kit here, and you can practice.” Bren sounded ever the teacher, but Justin wasn’t so sure he’d do as he was told. He was scared to draw, scared to tattoo, in case he couldn’t do it anymore.

There was a comfort zone in not knowing, and he wanted to stay there a little longer. Not knowing either way was better than trying and knowing he couldn’t draw, let alone tattoo any longer. He could dream this way.

Debbie had insisted on coming along to see her two new boys off and as a result it ended in a little family outing, one even Michael had come along to.

“Cam, Bren, you know I’ll look after our little lost sheep.” Emmett sniffed. “You just take care of yourself in New York, you hear?”

Cam smiled; a slow smile only reserved for friends and wiggled his eyebrows. “You come and visit us in New York; you can share my bed anytime.”

Emmett laughed and fluttered his eyelashes as he hugged Cameron tightly before moving onto Bren and kissing the gruff man on the cheek.

Michael’s eyes almost popped out of his head at their easy banter, he hadn’t realised Cam and Emmett were such good friends, he stared at them intently, wondering if there was anything more between them. He couldn’t imagine Cam would go for such an overtly camp guy.

“It’s time for us to check in,” Bren said, breaking the party up. He gave Justin a hug, neither caring as passers by turned to watch two heavily tattooed men hold on to each other tightly.

Eventually pulling away, Bren looked at Brian and gave a very Brian-like smirk. He held out his hand, and Brian only hesitated for a second before shaking it. “Look after him, don’t make me come back down here and kick your ass.”

“Scout’s honour.”



***

Justin sat cross legged, watching Brian as he pushed back his Italian sofa and moved the coffee table, placing old newspaper over the floor. “I think your new decorating sucks.” Justin commented.

Brian looked up, giving him the finger as he spread out more paper. “I’m not taking any chances.” Once a large area of the floor was covered and old sheets were placed on the sofa, Brian placed five tubs of brightly coloured paints on the floor.

“Daddy, you done yet?” Gus pulled his pant leg and looked up, wide eyed, bottom lip trembling just slightly.

“Yeah, we’re done now, Sonny Boy.”

“Yes!” Gus ran over to Justin, climbing on the bed and grabbing the huge pieces of blank paper he’d given Justin earlier to look after. He placed them over the newspaper and watched eagerly as Brian poured the primary coloured paint onto paper plates.

“Come on Jus.” Gus said as he started to take off his trousers and t-shirt.

Brian looked up at his lover and smirked. “Yeah come on Jus.” He too pulled off his jeans and socks, leaving him clad in only his boxers and a t-shirt.

Justin laughed at the sight father and son posed, both clad in shorts and almost matching tees. His fingers itched to paint the image, wanting to transfer it to canvas, immortalise Brian Kinney as no other saw him.

This was a side of Brian, Justin had never seen, relaxed and comfortable, without attitude or fear. It was a side Gus seemed comfortable with though, and that made Justin smile.

“Get your ass down here, Sunshine.” Brian called out as he held onto his son’s hand, helping him balance as the little boy put his feet into the paint.

“Look at me, I’m painting with my feet.” Gus looked up proudly and Justin couldn’t resist the temptation anymore. He stripped off his sweats and joined the two men.

“You do hands, Jus.” Gus said as he stomped over the paper.

“Which colour should I use?”

“Green.”

“There isn’t a green, Gus.” Brian said.

“As long as Brian isn’t afraid of a little mixing, we can do green.” Justin quickly coated his hand with blue and smeared yellow over the top.

“It’s magic. Mommy makes paint magic too.”

Justin pressed his hands to the paper, either side of Gus’s feet. “Your daddy is awfully white isn’t he, Gus?”

“Don’t you dare,” Brian warned.

“Then get on your hands and knees,” Justin smirked and placed a finger in bright red paint.

“You wish, Sunshine,” Brian said, getting to his knees anyway, and placing his hands in two different colours.


“You paint me, Jus,” Gus demanded.

“You want me to paint you?” Justin raised an eyebrow.

Gus nodded and took hold of Justin’s hand, his little fingers tracing the tattoos that adorned his skin. “I want cars, and cats.”

Justin looked at Brian, who shrugged. “It’s none toxic paint, it couldn’t hurt.”

“OK, you sit on your daddy’s lap and I’ll turn your arm into a racing track.” Justin drew crude blue and red cars chasing each other up Gus’s arms. His artistic eye cringed at the lack of technique, but his heart felt lighter.

“I look just like you!” Gus grinned at Justin and he couldn’t help but grin back.

The hours passed quickly and Lindsey walked in, astonished at seeing Brian, Justin and Gus covered in poster paints. Brian usually managed to stay as clean as a whistle on these father-son afternoons, but not this time.

Dry paint flaked from his skin, and Lindsey had to stand and watch as the father of her son put his hand in some paint and smeared it on the paper, then up his arms. “You boys having fun?”

Three identical expressions looked up at her. Gus tried to run to her, but Brian held on. “You don’t want to get paint on Mommy.”

“See my cars?” He pointed to his arms, which look pretty much smeared in paint to her.

“I see them, sweetie. “We should get you cleaned up for dinner.”

“I’ll take him.” Brian said, standing up. “Wash your feet off in the water, Gus, so we don’t get it on the floor.”

Justin looked at Lindz and rolled his eyes. “He’s as anal as ever.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever complained about me being too anal.” Brian looked at him knowingly, as he wiped the paint off his own feet.

“Only you would make a kid wash his feet to take a shower.”

Brian made short work of showering the paint away, handing a clean, only slightly damp Gus back to Lindz. His son safely with his mother, Brian turned around, surprised to see Justin lying on the newspaper, amidst their paintings, still covered in smears of poster paints, the colours mixing and drying over his skin.


Lindsey left quietly, unable to stop the smile that spread over her face as she watched Brian watch Justin.

Justin let his fingertips play with the paint, enjoying the feel of the thick substance, it was something he’d denied himself for a long time.

It took him a while to realise Gus had gone. He opened one eye and saw Brian, a strange expression on his face.

“I like painting with your son.”

Brian knotted the towel around his waist and knelt down. “I like painting with you.” Unable to resist he dipped a finger into the paint that had somehow collected in Justin’s bellybutton. He pushed the paint outwards, fascinated at the effect of paint on skin, on tattoo.

Justin clasped Brian’s wrist, stilling his movements. There eyes met, pupils dilating. His hand moved up Brian’s strong arm, smearing paint over his recently cleaned skin.

Leaning down over the paint splattered man, Brian kissed him, dipping his tongue the moist cavern of his mouth.

Justin moved his hand up to Brian’s shoulder, clutching tightly, pulling himself as close to Brian as his weak arm would let him.

The towel slipped down Brian’s hips as he pressed Justin back down onto the paper. The paint splattered t-shirt covering Justin’s torso was quickly pulled over his head, revealing pale skin decorated in delicate black inks, a decoration Brian thought he would never come to enjoy, but found himself unable to look away, unable to stop himself touching, and tasting.

He didn’t know how he managed to get paint onto his lips, it wasn’t on purpose, of that he was sure, but Justin’s lean chest became the canvas for kiss shaped prints as he moved his way down between his pecs and down to the waist band of his boxers.

The paint on his hands had already dried at this point, and with a glint in his eye Brian pressed his hand into the mostly blue paint and slipped his hand inside Justin’s shorts.

The blond man groaned as the cool, thick paint engulfed his straining erection, his hands pulling the hairs at the back of Brian’s neck, coating them in thick red goop. He arched his hips as Brian pulled his boxers down his thighs, happy to be free of them, happy to have Brian’s hand clasped around his erection, teasing him.

“We can’t do this on top of your son’s painting,” Justin said against Brian’s lips.

“Fuck the painting.” Brian deepened the kiss as his grip became stronger, making Justin thrust up and into his touch.

“You know he’ll be back tomorrow asking for it,” Justin managed to reply in between thrusts,

Brian stopped briefly, his hand still, but wrapped around Justin’s cock as if it was the only place to be. Pulling Justin up and off the painting wasn’t Brian Kinney’s most graceful of moves, but it got him what he wanted.

Justin’s paint slicked back came in contact with polished wooden floor and he grinned as Brian bent over him to kiss him hard. His back pushed into the hard floorboards was not a new position, but it had never felt so good, he could feel the paint trickle down his spine and fill the grooves of the floor as Brian pushed him further down.

The hand playing with Justin’s cock quickly massaged his balls and reached for the puckered opening below.

The brain cell that still worked made Justin stop him, lust filled eyes searched Brian’s face. “Paint is not a good lubricant.”

Brian smirked and pushed his tongue into his cheek. “But it’s none toxic.”

“None toxic or not, you’re not using it to make way for your dick.”

Brian rolled his eyes and sighed, reaching over Justin to the bowl of water he’d placed there earlier for Gus. He plunged his hand into the tepid water until the paint disappeared.

Wiggling his clean digits at Justin he placed them in the crack of Justin’s ass, the water making the blond shiver and his cock pulse with need.

Brian disappeared long enough to find a condom, his feet slipping on the wooden floors, leaving large footprints as he went. He returned quickly, pulling Justin’s legs over his shoulders.

Justin leaned up, trying to reach Brian’s lips as the other man’s fingers stretched him open. Brian pushed into him he leaned in closer, letting the younger man get a taste of his paint tinted lips.

Justin loved the texture of paint on moist skin, paint flaking and transferring to his own kiss-swollen lips, dissolving on his tongue.

Brian rotated his hips, his latex covered cock running circles around Justin’s clenching pucker. He thrust forward slightly, barely pressing inside before pulling back out and rubbing his erection down the crack of Justin’s ass.

Justin pulled at Brian’s hair. “No teasing.” Justin demanded, thrusting down to meet Brian’s cock.

The head of his cock disappeared inside of Justin and Brian sat up, suddenly fascinated as he watched Justin’s ass swallow him whole. He felt his balls tighten and he groaned, trying to halt his orgasm.

Justin refused to let him, he circled Brian’s cock with his thumb and forefinger, clenching quickly as Brian thrust inside him. He left his hand there as their bodies joined, feeling the friction as their bodies slid together, as Brian disappeared inside him until there was no room between either one of them.

His eyes rolled back in his head as Brian thrust against his prostate, and his toes tingled, until they curled uselessly, heels digging into Brian’s shoulders. He could feel his ass clench around Brian, his fingers feeling every move, every twitch, hitch and the tell tale signs of orgasm.

Brian thrust hard, and Justin’s paint smeared skin sent them both skidding along the floor, but neither cared as Brian gripped Justin’s thighs and pulled him higher, the talented blond’s fingers massaging Brian’s balls as he pushed into him.

With a strangled gasp Brian thrust up sharply, losing his balance and falling on top of Justin, his cock pulsing and spilling its seed until he was spent.

Chapter 44

“You don’t have to do this, man,” Cam warned, as the figure, so familiar to Justin, looked at him, undressing him with his eyes. Justin could finally put a clear face to the dick he still had nightmares about. The first dick he’d let fuck him for money.

Now he was back for more. Vomit spurted up into Justin’s mouth and he swallowed it down, he couldn’t show he was bothered by this, wouldn’t do it.

“I’m not bothered, money is money, right?” He pushed himself away from the wall and from under the cover of a shop doorway. The rain pounded down, soaking his hair and sank right through his coat to his bare skin.

“You get to choose,” Cam called after him.

“And I’m choosing.” He was choosing to let that man back into his body. He felt sick, but walked surely to a secluded alleyway.

“Money.”

The man smirked. “Didn’t take you long to fit right in, did it?” He slapped the notes into Justin’s hands and Justin gave him a condom, watched him slip it on before turning to the wall and unzipping his fly and pushing his pants down.

Fingers bit into his skin as his one time attacker pushed him further into the wall. The brick was rough against his cheek and he concentrated on that, tried not to think about the man pressed against him, about his fingers probing his ass painfully.

“You’re a god-damned fag.” The trick breathed into his ear and Justin paused, frowned. It didn’t go like this. He struggled to turn around and pushed the man away, his breath leaving him as he looked into Chris Hobbs’ calculating eyes.

This was wrong…he tried to push him away, but his hands wouldn’t work and his feet were glued to the floor. He tried to scream but no sound came out of his mouth. He heard a loud bang and froze, sure he would feel the tell tale thud of wood as it cracked his skull.

Instead he rolled from the sofa, falling to the floor, gasping and dripping with sweat, eyes wide, unsure if this was real or another nightmare. His heart thudded loudly in his chest and it took him a while to realize there was someone knocking on the door.

He stood unsteadily and pulled open the door to see a bored looking man holding a package. Justin frowned. “How did you get up here?”

He shrugged. “One of your neighbours let me in. You Justin Taylor?” Justin nodded. “This is for you.” He handed Justin a package, then a clipboard. “Sign here please.”

Justin frowned and painstakingly signed, his right hand shaking as he scrawled his name. He placed the package on the coffee table, knew who it was from, and wasn’t sure if he should open it, wasn’t sure he could resist the temptation.

He let out a deep breath and opened it, pulled out the familiar black box that held his tattoo kit. He lifted the lid and looked inside, saw the gun twinkling up at him, it had been so long since he’d held it in his hands, since he’d felt the familiar buzz travel up his hand as he pressed the tip to skin.

He shouldn’t have opened it, not without Brian here, he had no willpower, no reason to pull himself out of the depression when he sat there alone looking at something that had been his life for so long.

His downfall and his salvation.

Justin didn’t need talent to press that nib to his own skin, to feel that familiar feeling as ink filled his skin. It wasn’t always about the art, and if he couldn’t have the art he could at least have the feeling.


He jumped when the door opened, he span around in his chair and saw Mikey burst into the room. “Brian?”

Justin stood on wobbly feet and clutched the back of the chair. “He’s at work.”

Mikey ran a hand through his short hair. “Fuck, yeah, of course he is.”

“It’s three-thirty in the afternoon, shouldn’t you be at the comic store?”

“I had to close up shop.” He pulled out a comic book and waved it at Justin. “I need to see Brian, I can’t believe it. They killed him!”

“Huh?”

“Captain Astro,” Mikey said impatiently, “in the last issue, they actually killed him off.”

Justin laughed, his earlier maudlin thoughts lighter in his heart. Other people’s problems really did put things into perspective. “I’m really sorry, man.”

“I just don’t believe it…I’m not thinking right, I raced over here not even thinking of the time or that Brian would be at work, I still thought he was at home–” Realising that his mouth was running away with him, Mikey had the decency to shut up.

“Looking after me,” Justin finished for him.

“I didn’t mean anything…”

“It’s OK,” Justin ushered them over to the living room, where his tattoo kit lay abandoned on the coffee table.

“My pathetic problems must make you mad, huh?” Mikey said as he looked at the tattoo gun, remembering how he’d first spotted Justin again in Liberty Tattoos, so different from the twink he used to be.

“No, your problems were just what I needed.” Justin smiled and leant over, placing the tattoo gun back in its case and shutting it with a small click. “Tell me about Captain Astro.” He leaned backwards, and closed his eyes. “Tell me about you and Brian.”

They had never talked, Justin realised, not properly anyway. Before he’d disappeared to New York he had been little more than a child and Mikey had been unsure of his place in Brian’s life, they both loved the other man and found it hard to find their place in his life.

Maybe this time around would be different, Justin suddenly felt bone weary, exhausted at the difficulties he seemed to encounter and how everything seemed to be another hurdle he had to jump over.

He wished, for once, the hurdle would fall to its side and let him pass easily.

“How can you not know about Captain Astro?” Mikey snorted and leaned back, talking animatedly. “He’s only the best superhero there is, better than Superman, Spiderman, Batman…he doesn’t need a ‘man’ in his name to be great, you know?”

Justin watched Brian’s friend through hooded eyes, happy he wasn’t alone. It had been a long time since he’d been truly alone. With Cameron and Bren leaving, with Brian going back to work he’d felt lost.

Mikey might not be his first choice in companion but he took the edge off that loneliness, and pushed back the crazed impulses that usually had him loading his tattoo gun and finding a clear piece of skin, or failing that, any piece of skin.

“We used to read Captain Astro comics, up in my room, when we were fourteen. Even then Brian knew he was gay, wasn’t ashamed of it, but I needed Captain Astro’s reassurance–don’t laugh. You should read it, there are so many gay undertones it’s unreal.”

“Who wants gay undertones?” Justin commented. “He should have been proud to be gay; his writers shouldn’t have hidden it between words and under ink.”

“Things were different then…and now, well, now we’ll never know for sure.” Mikey looked sadly at the crumpled comic in his hand, and tried to smooth it out. “It’s the end of an era.”

“Then make a new era. You must be an expert on comics.”

Mikey couldn’t help but preen over the younger man’s compliments, he’d always felt inadequate around him, the young clever boy who would amount to great things, even after running away he’d become successful, and Brian, he was handsome, clever, and amazingly successful, Mikey had never felt he measured up to that.

“I can’t make a new era, Captain Astro is truly dead. I even phoned the publishers, asked them about it.”

“Write your own superhero then, an amazingly attractively, successful, ‘gay’ superhero who doesn’t hide behind subtext.”

The dark haired man looked shocked at the suggestion. “I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can.”

“I can’t even draw stick figures, no way could I draw a hunky superhero.”

Justin sighed impatiently and rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that comics are mostly written and drawn by different people, just get someone else to draw it for you.”

“Maybe…you could draw it?”

Justin tensed and turned to face Mikey, his face pale.

“When your hand is better, of course. You always were a good artist.”

His heart and soul ached to be able to draw, to be able to hold a paintbrush and not have his wrist shake uncontrollably or his fingers cramped and turned into claws. “That might be a long time to wait.”

“I don’t think it will be that long.”

“Then you have more faith in me than I do.”

Chapter 45

Justin lay on the floor, phone attached to his ear as he waited for Cam to pick up. He’d only intended to catch up with his friend, to talk like two friends did, but as soon as he heard the other man’s voice on the end of the line he felt the emotion well up and out of his chest.

“I had that dream again.” He’d ignored it up until now, concentrating on Mikey and the comic he so desperately wanted to create.

“What’s happened, Jus?” Cameron said on the other side of the line.

“I don’t know, nothing, just feeling–.”

“Crappy,” Cam finished.

“Yeah, he always finds me when I’m depressed.” And by ‘him’ Justin didn’t mean Chris, he meant his faceless attacker, his regular trick, the one person who could make him heave by just thinking of him.

“On the nights he never sort me out I’d dream about him, sometimes, I’d rather he be there for real because it wasn’t half so bad as what my imagination could cook up.”

“I remember…look, do you want me to come back down there? Did you get Brent’s package?” There was a worried tone to his voice.

“I got it, and don’t worry, I didn’t do anything stupid. I thought about it though.”

“Where is Brian when you do all this thinking?”

“Don’t blame him, Cam,” Justin adjusted his position on the floor, leaning his feet up on the sofa. “I’m fucked up. Mikey wants me to illustrate this comic book.”

“That’s great.”

“I can’t draw.” He glanced sideways at the wooden floorboards, crumpled paper and blunt pencils littering his view. He was literally surrounded by half finished sketches, jagged lines and paper punctured because he couldn’t control his hand anymore.

“You’re still going to physiotherapy, right?”

He picked up a crumpled sketch and threw it towards the waste paper basket, missing. “They say I may never draw again.”

“Yeah? Well, they tell people they can’t walk so when they do, they think the doctors have performed miracles.” Brian interrupted as he pushed the door sideways with his shoulder, carrying a large box into the loft.

“Is that Brian?” Cam asked, hearing a faint voice.

“Yeah, I should go. Love you.” He switched off the phone and sat up.

“You gonna give me a hand here? There’s another box in the elevator.”

Justin walked barefoot, picking the box up, only faintly interested in just what Brian was bringing home from work.

When he placed the box on the floor in the middle of the living room Brian almost had a computer monitor out of its box.

“Why do you need another computer?” Justin frowned and rubbed at his tired eyes.

Brian paused slightly, before looking up, hazel eyes serious. “This isn’t for me, it’s for you.”

“Why do I need a computer?”

“Let me put this together, and see.” Brian only hoped Justin took this well.

Justin waited quietly, not offering to help as Brian put the computer together, tangling himself in wires. It was unnerving and Brian found himself fumbling, wishing Justin would chatter endlessly, try to guess as to why he’d got the new computer, something, anything that the old Justin would have done.

But he wasn’t that seventeen year old boy anymore. He wasn’t even the streetwise tattooist. He was floundering, unsure where he fit within the world now, and Brian only wanted to make that clear for him. He was an artist, no matter what medium he used.

Brian finally managed to get the computer connected, and turned on, leaving it on the floor in the middle of the living room, they could find a place for it after Justin accepted it.

Justin was tense now, a niggling idea of why Brian had brought the computer coming to light.

“What is this?”

“It’s a computer.” Brian didn’t look at him, but watched the computer as it loaded.

“Don’t be a prick.” Justin folded his arms around his waist, curling in upon himself, feeling vulnerable, and not really sure why.

“It’s to draw on.” He picked up the thin cylinder, holding it in his hands like an ordinary pencil.

“I don’t need that, Brian.” To use that would be admitting defeat.

“I thought it might help with your recovery, just until you get your strength back.”

“We know what the doctor says about that.” He gave a bitter laugh.

“Look, it’s just like a pencil.” Brian placed the tip of the cylinder to the screen and swirled, leaving a black mark on the monitor. “You don’t need as much pressure with this, though. See?”

“It’s not the pencils I care about, not really.” Justin moved away from the computer, sitting down on the Italian sofa, wishing he could disappear into the cushions. He looked up at Brian with wounded eyes as the other man followed him, he couldn’t help it, couldn’t mask the pain from them. “It’s not going to help me tattoo.”

“Baby steps.” Brian sat down next to him. “You have to walk before you can run, remember. Use the computer for Mikey’s comic and work slowly towards tattooing.

Justin frowned, he wasn’t so sure it would work, didn’t like the constrictions a computer would put on him. He ached to be able to paint something so big it would fill one wall, to cover himself in paint and feel the texture of paper.

“OK, I’ll give it a try.”


Justin sat back on his chair, staring at the computer screen. Mikey bent down, peering over his shoulder.

“That’s great! Our very own superhero.” Mikey said, his eyes not picking up the many mistakes Justin spotted with his trained eye.

It wasn’t the same as drawing, didn’t give him the same high as tattooing, but the computer filled a void, gave him something positive to think about, and gave his inactive mind something to work on, something to create.

Justin wasn’t so sure. It had turned out alright, but it didn’t give him to rush a pencil, a tattoo gun gave him. It didn’t seem real, that place behind the monitor his drawings were now confined too.

“Should we give him a cape?” Justin asked.

“No cape, too eighties. We need to bring superheroes into this century, physically as well as sexually. Plus, I keep picturing Emmett in his pink morning robe.”

Justin laughed, “Definitely no morning robe. We do need a name though–and a storyline, at least for the first issue.”

“Something edgy.”

“Something better than Superman or Batman anyway, I mean, when you think about it, those are the two lamest named superheroes out there. Wolverine, or even Daredevil, now they’re great names.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Captain Astro.”

Justin twisted in his chair, raising an eyebrow at Mikey. “Please, even without the gay undertones, the name makes it totally gay.”

“Fucking piece of shit,” Brian shouted from the other side of the room, ripping the ear phones out of his ears and banging the ipod on his palm. Up until this point they’d not heard a peep out of the other man, who was doing his best to give the two of them space to create.

He opened the battery compartment, quickly changed the batteries and turned it back on. “Cheap junk…” he fumed, shaking it and then throwing it at the wall opposite me.

“Rage.” Justin said, suddenly feeling excited.

Mikey grinned. “Rage. I like it.”

Justin turned to the computer and added Rage in a speech bubble above his head. “Rage, Gay Crusader, superhero, he may not have a cape, but he’s a better fuck than superman and batman put together!”

“I don’t know…I think superman and batman would be hot together. Bruce Wayne, beneath all that rubber, talk about repressed passions.” Mikey turned back to Brian. “Bri, we have a name.”

He glanced over at them. “Lovely.”

“Rage.”

“I’m happy for you, really.”

“Well, you could sound happier.”

“My ipod is broken; do you have any idea how much this cost?”

Mikey stood up, crossing the room and pulled Brian’s lanky frame down so he could press a kiss to his forehead. “You’re such a drama queen. How about some real music?” He looked to Justin. “Why don’t we go out and do some proper celebrating. Babylon, tonight?”

Justin froze, his heart skipping a beat, his eyes met Brian’s briefly, and the question in them angered him for some reason. He didn’t want Brian to hesitate for him, to stop himself going out because he was too scared to go out.

“Sounds good to me, I haven’t been in ages.” Since before the attack, but none of them mentioned that.

Justin turned back to the computer, saving his work and shutting it down, all the time feeling Brian’s eyes burn into the back of his head.

“Great! I’ll go home and meet you there at eleven.”

Chapter 46

CHAPTER FORTY SIX A Friend Indeed


Justin followed Brian into Babylon, outwardly calm, no one would notice his stiff spine and the way he dodged away from groping hands. He donned the façade he used to wear when hustling became too much, a blank mask that hid his feelings from the customers he was meant to please. It was a relief to reach the bar and spot Mikey.

“Guys, you made it!”

Brian rolled his eyes and leaned over, kissing his best friend quickly on the cheek. “We said we would didn’t we?”

“So, what are you both drinking?” Mikey turned and half leaned over the bar, trying to get the barman’s attention.

“I’d love a beer,” Justin said, snorting as Brian raised an eyebrow at him, “but I’ll settle for a water, damn pills.”

Justin took his time in surveying the people around him, making sure they didn’t come too close before letting the music seep under his skin. The steady rhythm loosened his tense muscles and he let out a slow breath.

The cloying heat and stench of sweat, beer and cigarettes made him feel nauseous at first, until somewhere in his subconscious remembered he used to like this kind of thing. It went hand in hand with the music, and that he enjoyed.

Someone pushed past him to get the bar and he tensed, eyes widening and breath sticking in his throat. Brian pulled him away quickly, settling him in the crook of his arm while shouting obscenities at the guy who had touched him.

“I’m OK,” he shouted over the music to Brian, he didn’t want to ruin this night, he wanted to go home and know it had been a success, that he could be around people again without totally freaking out.

Mikey handed him a bottle of water as he unscrewed the lid, glad to have something else to concentrate on. Fleetingly he wished it was something stronger, something to give him Dutch courage.

He glanced at the man who barged past him and realised he was nobody special, not particularly gorgeous, not muscular, just a regular guy. He was used to being up close and personal with men like this, he used to get paid to fuck, and now he had trouble even touching them. He took a swig of water, swilling it around his dry mouth before swallowing.

Mikey leaned in front of Brian and clinked his beer with Justin’s water, “Here’s to Rage, partner. I’ve got some ideas for storylines.”

“Mikey, Babylon isn’t the place to talk business. It’s about fun.” Brian said in an exasperated voice.

“Rage is fun, I’ll have you know! But I’ll refrain from tainting your ears with my wonderful ideas. We’ll get together tomorrow, yeah?”

“Sure, Mikey.”

A man dressed in goth attire walked past, and both he and Justin did a double take at each other. He took a step backwards until he was face to face with Justin again. “Justin, it is you!” He grinned and pushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

Justin smiled back. “Hi Alex, it’s good to see you, man.”

“You too, how the fuck are you? I heard about what happened,” he frowned and shrugged his shoulders sheepishly, “I wanted to get in touch, but I didn’t want to intrude, or for you to think I was only getting in touch because of everything, you know?”

“I understand, it was a messy time, probably best to stay away.”

“Hey, I remember you, from the tattoo convention. Justin tattooed The Crow on your back.”

Al nodded and grinned proudly. “Yeah, best tattoo I ever had.” He suddenly looked up at Justin, guiltily. “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t mean to rub it in or anything.”

Justin shrugged, it was still a very sore subject with him, but he didn’t want anyone else feeling sorry for him. “It’s OK to mention it. I’m gaining my strength back slowly.”

“Yeah, he sure is. We’re even writing a comic book together.”

“That’s great! I love comics–obviously.”

Brian sighed irritably, feeling somewhat left out. “More shop talk. No work talk at the dinner table, boys.”

“Fine, fine.” Mikey snorted in annoyance, but couldn’t stop himself grinning like a school kid.

“This is Alex, by the way, and Al, this is Brian.”

They looked each other up and down, Al not backing away from Brian’s hostile stare. Justin wasn’t even sure his new friend realised Brian was sending him such evil glares.

“Nice to meet you, Bri.”

“Yeah, you too.” Brian didn’t sound too enthusiastic, and when Mikey dragged him off to the dance floor, Justin was too relieved that no argument was started. He started to feel panicked about being left alone.

“I really am sorry I didn’t call.” Al said, totally serious now.

“It’s really OK, It was a bad time, not only with the physical problems, but with the media and getting all my shit stirred up. It was probably best you stayed away.”

“Not anymore though, I promise to give you a call this time.”

Justin smiled, feeling better. It would be nice to have a friend or two that had nothing to do with Brian, he didn’t want to become dependant on the older man for everything.

“Or I could call you.”


Brian chose that moment to strand Mikey on the dance floor and wind his way back to Justin. “Well, Mikey sucks.”

“I hope you asked the nice professor and didn’t go at it on the dance floor.” Justin smirked unable to resist the slight taunt.

“You’re such a kidder. Want to go to the back room and see what else sucks?” He lifted an eyebrow and ignored Mikey as he joined them.

A cold shiver ran down Justin’s spine and he shook his head. “I think my sucking in public days are over. You go though.” Justin wiped a bead of sweat from Brian’s forehead.

“You sure?” Brian asked, suddenly serious, as if he was waiting for Justin to put up a fight and accuse him of something.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll catch you later on, yeah?”

Brian clanked his forehead against Justin’s and pressed a quick, grateful kiss to his lips. “Yeah.”

Mikey stared at Brian’s back, watching him disappear into the back room before turning back to Justin. “And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Not really.”

“The fact that we’re meant to be celebrating Rage, and he’s gone looking for a trick?”

“Mikey, if I’d wanted to fuck in public, we’d both be there, I don’t, so I’m not, and he does want to fuck in public, so that’s what he’s doing.”

“Doesn’t it get to you though, the fact that he’s fucking another guy, probably getting his dick sucked right now?”

Justin lit up a cigarette, Mikey’s questions bringing on a headache. “Sex is just sex, I think I know that better than most.”

“I don’t think I could be like that with Ben.”

“It’s different for everyone though, I have a regular fuck buddy, we have fun, but we also have fun with others,” Al added.

“It’s different with me and Bri, I know he wants variety, he likes the chase and excitement of sex with different men. I’ve had enough men in the past, most with no emotional attachment involved, to feel threatened by it.”

“You’re a better man than me then, I’d never be able to put up with Brian if I were you.” Mikey frowned, looking towards the back room, and Justin saw the realisation of his words as they finally sank in. Maybe Mikey would now realise why he was the best friend and not the lover.

Chapter 47

FORTY SEVEN The Difference

The door slammed sideways as Brian pushed it open, pulling Justin over the threshold and ramming it shut behind them. “I know you’re not into public displays of affection,” Brian smirked as he pulled Justin to him, grinding his hips against his.

“I don’t know,” Justin said against his lips, “Displays of affection I can handle, but sucking in a darkened corner is kinda old.” He pushed himself upwards, using Brian’s taut chest as leverage and threaded his fingers through his dark locks.

Brian pulled at Justin’s t-shirt, making the blond pull away so he could push it up and over his head. It always surprised Brian, seeing Justin’s pale skin adorned by black ink. He knew it was there, yet each time he unveiled the younger man he expected to see the body of the inexperienced teenager he used to be.

He still looked young, even underneath the tattoos, but his actions, the way he moved, was anything but, Brian wondered if he’d had any fun at all, learning all the tricks of pleasing a man, or if it had all been about surviving.

He hoped, for Justin’s sake that he’d enjoyed some of the sex, he tried not to mourn the loss, he would have liked to teach the boy more himself, teach him how to move his fingers, how to tease in all the right places and how to suck, fuck and be fucked with the maximum amount of pleasure.

Justin caressed his chest, flicking open buttons expertly and revealing inch by inch, supple tanned flesh. He grinned up at Brian, flicking his tongue over one nipple, Brian groaned and closed his eyes, not wanting Justin to guess just where his thoughts had wandered.

He regretted a lot in his life, no matter what he told others, no matter what his friends thought, and how he treated Justin back then was one of the things he regretted the most. What would Justin be like if he hadn’t thrown him out that fateful day?

Brian couldn’t picture him any other way than how he was now, a tattooist, strong minded, slightly jaded, but successful, even now, and maybe that was a good thing. He desired the man Justin was, tattoos, intimacy issues, problems and all.

He pulled Justin up, stopping him from reaching the buckle to his belt and kissed him hard, his tongue demanding entrance to his mouth as his hands steered Justin to his bed, pushing him down onto it and covering his body with his own.

He undid the zipper to Justin’s jeans, and pulled them down to his ankles, where they got stuck on his boots, Brian left them there, removing boots would take too long.

He started at Justin’s knees and darted his tongue along the patterned skin, as if chasing the lines up his body.

He wasn’t usually into men with so many tattoos, he wasn’t into goths, or twinks, yet all that went out the window when it came to Justin. He was different, had been at seventeen and was now.

Justin moved underneath him, pushing his boots off his feet and letting them fall to the floor with a thud. He managed to kick off his jeans which left his legs free to clamp around Brian, to give him leverage to grind his erection against Brian’s thigh.

They both groaned and Brian almost fell on top of him, catching himself at the last moment and licking a trail up Justin’s neck, around his jaw, and finally to his lips.

Justin’s hands clutched at his upper arms and Brian noticed distantly that his left hand was gripping harder than the right, tremors running through his fingers as he tried to clutch tighter.

Brian’s heart gave a painful beat as he remembered why Justin was having so much trouble with such a simple act, but he refused to acknowledge it, didn’t want to bring Justin’s attention to it. It had been a good night, and he wanted to end it on a high.

They kissed, and it was different from the others, deeper, slower, tongue against tongue, one mouth then the other, wet and messy and perfect, a kiss unlike any Brian had received before.

It scared him, made him want to push the feelings in his stomach far away, but he couldn’t get enough of Justin, he was painfully hard and he had been all night, even finding release with nameless tricks, hadn’t taken the edge off.

It hadn’t taken the edge off his libido, but it had quelled his urge to run from Justin and the feelings he had for him. Justin’s reaction to his tricking was a surprise, he’d thought the blond would be annoyed, irritated, even jealous, but he’d shown maturity beyond his years, a maturity for the situation that could only come of how he’d survived on his own in New York.

Sex and relationships were two different things, and it calmed Brian to know Justin understood that. He wasn’t going to change who he was, and who he fucked for anyone, but that didn’t mean he cared less about Justin, on the contrary he cared more about Justin than he did anyone else, apart from his son.

“Hurry the fuck up, Brian, take off your goddamned pants.” Justin moaned between kisses, trying to push his hands between them and push the pants off Brian’s hips.

Brian laughed softly and sat back, opening his zipper and pushing his pants and boxers down to his knees. His erection sprang free, bouncing slightly, Justin’s eyes watching every small movement.

Small supple fingers grasped him gently, in a way only an artist could, tracing each vein, circling the base and brushing the wiry hair it sprang from, feeling every inch of velvet skin, as if he were making a sculpture of it. He applied pressure and Brian wasn’t expecting it, hot palm grasped around the length of him, jerking slowly, with unsteady rhythms because Justin had used his right hand and not his left.

Brian watched the hand around his cock, feeling it harden even more under the expert touch, felt his hips move of their own volition, unable to stop them, even if wanted to stop. Justin pushed himself up on his left hand, slowly turning them until Brian lay underneath him, he kept up a steady movement and Brian forgot to protest.

And he really did want to protest, he liked to be in the driving seat, to be the one in control, control of the pleasure, how much he let go and how much to reveal, but with Justin spread out on top of him, with alcohol weakening his defences, he just couldn’t seem to put up much of a resistance.

Even as a spit soaked finger caressed his balls, dancing delicately over them and finding the small entrance behind, circling it, as if gauging his reaction, before slipping slightly inside, he didn’t protest, his only action a groan and a thrust of the hips, unsure in which direction he would gain more pleasure.

Justin slipped his finger further inside, exploring a place he hadn’t ventured since his teenage years and Brian opened his eyes, unsure when he’d actually closed them, and watched the emotions play over his face as Justin rediscovered Brian’s body completely.

When Justin reached into the bowl beside the bed and came back with a tube of lubricant and a condom, Brian didn’t utter a sound, just watched silently as Justin ripped open the packet and rolled the latex over his erection, then coated it liberally in lube and settled himself between Brian’s open thighs.

Justin pressed two fingers back into Brian, scissoring them, making sure he was slick and ready before pushing forward, cock straining towards Brian’s entrance and thrusting slowly inside.

Pleasure rode Justin’s face as Justin rode Brian, and the older man fought with himself, not wanting his eyes to close and miss the emotions playing over Justin’s delicate features, not wanting to miss those blond lashes caress his cheeks as he gave in to his body’s own need, not wanting to miss the angle of his head as it fell forward in ecstasy and how his hair tangled against his mouth, getting stuck by the slight sheen of sweat that now covered his entire body.

Brian didn’t want to miss any of it, and while pleasure over took them, while Justin was too caught up in feeling, he allowed himself to open up, to be truly unguarded for the first time he could remember, just once he would allow himself the happiness, the rush, the pleasure of passion with someone he cared about.

There was a whole difference between sex and relationships, Brian was glad Justin understood that, it gave him to the room to stop pretending, made him less weary of being himself, and made him want to stay instead of run.

Chapter 48

FOURTY EIGHT Radioactive Man

Justin didn’t want to know where Brian got the flowered wallpaper, he was just thankful it was there. Like a man possessed, he tacked the wallpaper to the bathroom wall, plain side facing outwards creating a blank space for him to work on.

It had been months since he’d really felt the physical ache to paint, and he didn’t have time to go out and get proper canvas, this would have to do. He squirted an array of different colours onto a plate and using the biggest paintbrush he had started to add colour to the back of the wallpaper.

“Fucking, shit!” He swore angrily as his hand started to shudder and his grip on the paintbrush wouldn’t give him enough control. He threw the brush to the floor, unconcerned when paint splattered everywhere, this was why he was in the bathroom after all.

Remembering back to his and Brian’s painting session with Gus, Justin stuck his fingers in the paint and smeared it over his makeshift canvas. He wasn’t sure if it would turn out like the picture in his head, but leaving the brush out of it had given him back some control.

He let his fingers dig into the paint, push it around the paper, merging with other colours, uncaring for precision, he just needed to get the image from his mind onto paper.

He would mourn the loss of precision later, when he had time.

The image of a man came quickly, defined muscles shown beneath a thin blue outfit. It was the first time he’d painted this figure without the aid of his computer, and he was having trouble with the colours.

None of that mattered though, he needed to work larger than the computer allowed, he needed to feel the painting come to life beneath his finger tips, in a way it never did when he used the computer.

He needed to bond with his creation, to breathe life into it and become part of it himself. This may not turn out, it may not look as it should, but it was something Justin needed.

His talk with Michael earlier on in the day had turned a switch on inside of him, that switch he’d had as a child, the one that told him to draw, to paint, to create, even if it didn’t turn out good in the end.

They had their Rage storyline and it was big, so big Justin felt the need to paint big. Acrylics dripped down his arm, winding a pathway through his tattoos, it dripped from his elbow onto the floor and he had to be careful not to slip in the multicoloured puddle.

He started on a second figure on a second piece of wallpaper tacked next to the first. The figure was slightly shorter than the first, and his outfit a different colour, Justin was happy to see a resemblance to the character emerging from beneath the paint, it was crude and loosely painted, but there was a rawness, a quality Justin was pleased with. It gave movement to the silent figures and by the time he started to paint the third and final figure he was confident without the brush.

His whole arm started to throb, but he refused to finish, he worked through the shakes and repainted the sections too affected by the tremors.

The third figure he painted was crouched, defined muscles showing beneath what he hoped would look like a black mesh t-shirt. Blond hair lay messily around his shoulders, and pale arms were covered in tattoos Justin was only too familiar with.

The figure was crying, hands covering his eyes, blackness pulsing from beneath his fingertips and shooting out in all directions.

Justin went over the painting, smudging the tattoos down the skin, until it looked liquid, alive, he piled blue-black acrylic underneath the man, creating a puddle, small splashes of ink splattering the man’s blue jeans, making holes in the fabric and smoking slightly.

Only then did Justin stand back and look at the full picture. He sat on the toilet, paint drying up his arms and in between his toes. Rage, Zephyr and Ink, the three characters that would make up the premise of their comic book.


Emotions whirled around his gut, making his throat hurt with unshed tears. He wasn’t sure he could do this storyline without completely falling apart.

The door opened quietly and Brian poked his head around. “Is it safe to have a piss?” Justin moved away from the toilet silently and Brian stepped over the worst splatters of paint to get to the toilet.

When he finished he turned around and got his first look at why Justin had become like a man possessed most of the afternoon. “They’re brilliant, Justin.”

Justin shrugged, unsure, it wasn’t anything like his old style, or the style he’d found with the computer, but that wasn’t his problem. “Has Mikey told you about our first storyline?”

“Isn’t that what you were going over today?”

“Yeah. Mikey wanted to add another superhero into the mix.”

“A trio, well, that’s different.”

“He wanted to add Ink, a hustler who was captured by homophobic pricks and tattooed with radioactive ink, in the hopes of making him unattractive, making his skin rot, make him unable to paint, making his customers hate him, but instead he gets powers. Acid ink that spurts from the palms of his hands.

Rage and Zephyr will find him, too late to do anything about the tattoos–about the radioactive ink, but Rage will recognise Ink as the young boy he sorta, kinda loved once upon a time.”

Justin ran his hands through his hair, smearing paint through his blond locks. “Of course, and Mikey likes this part, the ink seeping from the palms of his hands prevent him touching anyone he loves,”

“With his hands anyway,” Brian smirked and turned to Justin. “And Mikey cooked all this up on his own?” Justin nodded. “How very ‘Rogue’ of him.”

“It’s just a little close to home, you know?”

“But full of angst, full of unrequited love, men with muscles and ten inch cocks.”

Justin laughed shakily and bumped his shoulders with Brian’s. “Be serious.”

“I am being serious. If you don’t want to do it, tell Mikey to go back to the original duo.”

“No, I do like it, I just feel so–raw. Like I’ll be showing everyone what’s really beneath the tattoos.”

Brian leaned down and kissed him. “It’ll be powerful, but it’s your call.” He left the bathroom and it took Justin a full ten minutes to realise that the older man hadn’t blown up over the mess or complained about being kept out of his bathroom.

Justin followed Brian out of the bathroom, “Brian?” he called, Brian looking up from the fridge, a bottle of water in hand. “Where did the flowered wallpaper come from?”

Chapter 49

Forty Nine THE LAND OF NOD

Brian pressed the button to the elevator with his left hand, clutching his cell phone to his ear with his right. “And you’ve OK’d it with the club?”

“Bar, it’s a rock bar, Brian, and yes. It’s all sorted on this side.” Brian rolled his eyes, but then realized Bren couldn’t see him. “The full size Rage, Zephyr and Ink posters you sent over are amazing.” There was a slight pause. “It’s good to see our boy can still use his talent.”

“Yeah–shit, my god damn elevator is stuck.” Brian said giving the button another sharp jab.

“Use the stairs. The Serpent will be packed for the launch, nearly every customer we’ve had come into the tattoo shop has brought a ticket.”

“Yeah, well, having it in New York better be a good idea. Do you know how much planning I’m going to have to do to get everything sorted, to get our whole god-damned family sorted so they can come over and witness the great launch party?”

“Don’t give me that, Brian, you’ll get your secretary to do it.”

“And she’ll expect a raise.” Giving up on the elevator Brian jogged up the steps to his apartment, letting himself in, and standing wide eyed in shock. “Jesus…” He muttered, more to himself than to Brendan.

“What’s wrong?” The tattooist asked.

“My whole apartment looks like a bomb of paper and ink has gone off.”

Paper covered every possible floor surface, drawings were piled neatly, all numbered and in some haphazard order known only to comic geeks and artists. Brian didn’t know where to tread. The piles seemed to be set in a semi circle and he followed that circle inwards, towards his bed.

The feelings; the anger and other emotions Brian didn’t let himself believe in, crashed over him as he saw his best friend and lover fast asleep on his bed, both curled towards each other, Mikey’s hand resting lightly over Justin’s hip.

“Hello, Brian, you still there? Brian, you OK?” Brian could hear the faint buzz of Bren’s voice and slowly lifted the phone back to his ear.

“I’m here.” He didn’t explain more than that, but looked from the men on the bed to the drawings invading his space. Anger swallowed the hurt until he could tell himself he hadn’t felt hurt at all.

Why they couldn’t do this shit in Mikey’s apartment, he didn’t know. Why they had to use up every foot of floor space, why they had to fall asleep on his bed before tidying it up. Why they had to fall asleep together…

“What’s happened? Is it Justin, is he OK?” Bren sounded worried and Brian took a deep breath.

“He’s fine. They’ve got storyboards all over my fucking apartment.”

“They’re just setting it out, getting it ready, no harm, huh?”

“They’re both now fast asleep, on my bed. How cosy they look–touching each other.” He walked to the side of the bed, stepping over more drawings, resisting the urge to stamp all over them.

They still didn’t wake up as he moved closer. The two men who were more attuned to him than anyone else he knew, didn’t realise he was there.

“Don’t do anything stupid. They’re both exhausted. Justin phoned me this morning, they’re working flat out to get this comic sorted. Neither are cheating on you. Especially with each other.”

He snorted and clenched his cell tighter. He didn’t know how Justin put up with the older man’s so called wisdom, it was annoying the fuck out of him. “I’m not in the kind of relationship where fucking another guy is ‘cheating’. We’re not breeders you know.”

“Stop being a dick, Bri, wake them up, and tell them to move all their shit.”

“Gotta go, later.” Brian flipped his phone shut and threw it onto the bed, both men moved, turning away from each other which diffused the situation slightly.

Brian saw Justin’s hand twitch in his sleep, saw how his fingers were swollen and how the support brace the doctor had given him seemed to be cutting off blood supply.

He kicked the mattress with his foot. “Wake up sleeping beauties,” he said, only the smallest hint of anger hidden in his words.

Justin woke first and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand in a similar manner to Gus. He blinked up at Brian, realizing how he’d fallen asleep, and what state they’d left Brian’s apartment in.

“Shit, we wanted this all tidied by the time you got back.” He scrambled from the bed and started to pile up the pieces of paper. Brian stilled him with a hand to the shoulder.

“Leave it, and take off the brace before your hand falls off.”

Justin unfastened the Velcro, pulled the brace off and threw it back on the bed before following Brian to the kitchen. “We are sorry, you know. We did start out at Mikey’s shop, but there wasn’t enough floor space, and then we kept getting interrupted at his apartment. This was the only quiet place.”

“It’s fine. I find two men on my bed without me there, but it’s fine.” He gave a dry smile.

“It wasn’t very interesting, you know, lots if sleep, a little drool, and from Mikey, lots of snoring.” As if on cue Mikey let out a loud snore.

Brian listened to his best friend and pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge. “He always was loud in bed,” he drawled before unscrewing the cap and taking a large gulp.

“I’m heading over to Bruce’s later. He offered to let me keep my tattooing kit at his studio, thought I’d go practice. I’ve forgotten how it feels to hold a tattoo gun in the palm of my hand.” He frowned and ran his fingers through his tangled blond locks.

“Good idea, you can join us at Babylon afterwards.”

“Sounds like a plan. Come on, lets go wake Mikey.” Justin grinned mischievously and took the water bottle from Brian, stepping over their work.

Mikey lay on his back, arms spread over his head, snoring softly. Justin sneaked over to him and waited a few seconds, until he was sure he wouldn’t wake up, when he stayed in the land of nod Justin squirted him full in the face.

Mikey’s arms flailed as if he were drowning and woke up with a gasp, water dripping from the end of his nose. “You bastards!” He wiped his face and jumped off the bed.

“Ah-a, watch all our work, Mikey, you might drip on it.”

“I don’t believe you did that–I don’t believe you let him.” Mikey pointed at Brian making him smirk.

“Next time don’t fall asleep on my bed,” with my boyfriend was left out, but definitely understood, “We could have fucked right next to you and you wouldn’t have woken up.” Brian said taking the water back from Justin and draining the remainder.

Mikey walked to the bathroom to grab a towel, his face screwed up in disgust. “Oh please, do you want to give me nightmares?”

Chapter 50

Yet to come...