"Tell me" Brian rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and watches as Justin takes three more (large) sips of the whiskey sour he's clutching as if it's the last fucking life-vest in the world and he is drowning at sea. "There's nothing to tell, sunshine," he purrs sweetly as Justin crawls into his lap. "You are such a liar. Like, I know you want to tell me. Every time we're fucking, just before you come, you totally always almost say it." Justin tangles himself around him, arms around his neck, straddling his hips. Brian reaches up and brushes long wisps of blonde away from his eyes, then leans in and softly bites his chin. "I don't know what you're talking about." Justin's head falls forward onto his shoulder, so Brian kisses his jaw and neck; he moves just slightly and slides his liquor tongue into the older man's mouth. Sweet and sour, and something indefinably Justin. "I just want to hear it once," he half whines against Brian's mouth. His head falls back and he's falling asleep; seven or eight or nine whiskey sours will do that to a person, Brian reasons. "Just once," Justin repeats. "Because I love you. So much, you know? And sometimes I, like, I think one day you'll find some stupid twink like me and, like, you'll throw me out for a newer and younger model. Or something. And - " He sighs, defeated by his own drunkenness. His hand slides down Brian's arm and he intertwines their fingers. "I've lost my point. I just - I just wish I knew for sure. I mean, I know. Of course I know. Only sometimes words, like, matter, Brian. They do, you know?" Justin is ridiculously drunk - drunk and drooling on the other man's shoulder; and so insanely sweet, beautiful, and vulnerable that Brian figures: what the fuck. Because chances are he won't remember any of this in the morning anyway. Carefully he lifts Justin up, strips him, and takes him to bed. His eyes are heavy lidded with the weight of whiskey and he looks up at Brian the way he always does - admiration and total trust, a raw consuming need. Brian removes his sweats and t-shirt, moves onto the bed next to him - (his hands warm and soft against Justin's cheek) - slowly he looks up and smiles as brightly as his nickname suggests. "Can you keep a secret, Justin?" Brian whispers, his breath hot against the other's ear. Justin nods sleepily, tilting his head to nuzzle the older man's neck. "I love you," Brian says. "I love you so much it scares the fuck out of me. And you should never worry about some trick taking your place; it's impossible. It will always be you and me, no one could change that. I'd never allow it, I promise." When Brian leans back Justin's eyes are wet and (bluer than he can ever remember seeing them before). He leans up and, so sweetly, presses his lips against Brian's - and when he pulls away all he says is: Thank you. Brian falls asleep with Justin's head on his chest, their legs knotted together beneath warm linen sheets, and a tightness in his stomach he didn't realize was there, untwisting to contentment. >> "Jesus. I feel like a fucking Mack truck ran over my head. Fifteen times." "Hey, sunshine?" "Ugh...what?" Justin groans, covering his head with a pillow. "Do you remember anything from last night?" Brain asks, padding his way into the bathroom. He doesn't want to see Justin when he answers; that moronic gloating look he'll have when he says something like: No, nothing. Well, besides that apart where you fawned all over me declaring your undying love. Justin's quiet for longer than Brain is comfortable with, so he begins to vigorously brush his teeth (pretending he really doesn't care anyway). "Well," Justin says slowly, thoughtfully, "I remember watching all those House episodes I TiVo-ed. And then... uhm." Relieved, Brian sighs. "Yeah, no." he concedes. "I can't remember shit." Brain stands in the bathroom doorframe, a toothpaste grin on his lips, and says, "Get dressed - let's go get some breakfast." "And aspirin?" Justin asks weakly, rolling off the bed and crawling towards his jeans. "Yeah," Brian says softly. "I promise."
Mojaunicorn