Justin's Cliff
Chapter Three

Justin pushed back, answering Brian’s thrust and groan with a harsh moan of his own. He felt the older man’s hands tighten on his hips and Brian’s thrust had his cock hitting Justin’s prostrate each push forward. Justin cried out as Brian’s hand slid around his hip and began fisting his cock, he was so close! One more thrust and Justin came, his cum drenching the sheets under him. He heard Brian’s grunt and felt the hand holding him clench, then he fell heavily atop Justin, pinning him to the bed.

Justin lay there a moment, fighting to catch his breath which wasn’t made any easier by Brian’s body laying on him. “Brian,” he grunted, wiggling a little under the weight, but the other man just groaned and made no effort to roll off Justin.

Justin elbowed the body above him. “Brian!” he said louder, now seriously trying to squirm out from under him. But Brian did not move or say a word. Justin finally heaved his body to the side, forcing Brian’s off him and rolling the man onto his back. Justin sat up and gave the passed-out man a disgusted look. He took the full condom off Brian’s now flaccid dick and got rid of it. Justin got up and lifting Brian under the shoulders was able to get the older man straightened out on the bed, covering him, he knelt down beside the bed.

God, he was so beautiful! Even passed out, day’s growth of beard, Brian was breathtaking. Justin loved watching Brian sleep; it was the only time the older man really let his walls down. Justin frowned, at the best of times, Brian was no snuggler, but never had he just passed out on Justin, no after sex kiss, or remark about the amazing blow job or fuck. And Justin knew that Brian had not left the loft again. Finally, with a heavy sigh, Justin rose and went to shower, alone.


Justin moaned and buried his head deeper into the pillow. But the voices still intruded. He rolled over; blinking at the bright sun light that flooded the loft. He couldn’t make out who was talking to Brian, but it was a female voice. Reluctantly, he left the nice comfy bed and pulled on a pair of sweats. Even though technically he didn’t live with Brian, the drawer that had been his since the first time he had been allowed to stay, still had several items of his clothing available; and Brian still sent the dirties out with his own for cleaning.

Justin grunted a greeting at Brian who was seated at the counter, newspaper open with coffee cup close at hand. But it was the visitor that brought the most surprise; it was Cynthia, Brian’s former assistant. “Hi, Cynthia,” he called as he got a cup down and went straight to the coffee, stifling the huge yawn behind a polite hand.

“Hi, Justin,” Cynthia said, smiling. But then her attention immediately returned to Brian. “Why not?” she demanded, on what must have been an old argument that Justin had interrupted with his entrance.

Brian threw down the paper and went to refill his cup, ignoring Justin’s interested stare. “Cynthia, I told you. Vance is perfectly within his rights to use those boards. Hell, they’re his now, doesn’t matter who created the pitch, it belongs to Vanguard.” Brian ignored the mentioned boards that Cynthia had spread out on the counter and returned to his seat.

Cynthia frowned at the back of Brian’s head, but she was silent for a moment as she studied her former boss. Finally, she came to stand next to him, demanding his attention. “Vance is going to present the campaign to Remsen tomorrow, using your ideas and you are telling me that you don’t care?” She sounded frustrated, and Justin wondered how long she had been here arguing with Brian.

Justin saw a flash of something in Brian’s eyes before he got up and headed towards the bedroom, tossing over his shoulder. “No I don’t, Cynthia. Vance can shove the boards up his ass for all I care.” That said he disappeared behind the glass panels.

Cynthia tossed Justin a frustrated look and all the blond could do was shrug his shoulders. He had no clue what was up with Brian that was the problem. This type of defeated atitude was from left field and never would Justin have thought Brian would succumb to anything remotely resembling failure. Cynthia gave one last look at the bedroom before gathering the boards and leaving, softly telling Justin goodbye. Justin watched her go before heading to the bedroom. He heard the shower running and sat on the bed to wait for Brian to come out. Lately there had not been many invitations for joint showers and he wasn’t sure of his welcome now either.

Brian shot him an unreadable look as he came out, a towel wrapped around his waist. Justin waited until the older man had pulled jeans on before speaking. “So you really don’t care that Vance uses your ideas and hard work to land the account?” he asked, disbelief in his tone.

Brian tossed the wet towel on the bed and pulled a t-shirt over his head. “No Justin, I don’t,” he looked back at Justin, eyes filled with warning. “Now, drop it,” he ordered.

But Justin didn’t. He followed as Brian went back to the kitchen and refilled his coffee. “But Brian-,” he started to say.

Justin watched stunned as Brian’s coffee cup went sailing past his head to crash, coffee flying everywhere including on the wall. He swung his gaze back to Brian in disbelief. He knew his eyes were large and frightened, but that cup had come awful close to him! Brian looked back at him, eyes cold and angry. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? “Somewhere not here?” he demanded.

Justin nodded and swallowed. He stepped carefully around the mess and went to dress. Gathering up his satchel and phone, Justin walked past Brian to the door. Neither man said a word. Justin stepped out and closed the loft door behind him. It wasn’t until he was out on the sidewalk that Justin allowed the shaking to show. He had seen Brian angry, plenty of times, but this was only the second time that he had ever been afraid of the older man; the first being when the loft was robbed. Justin looked in both directions. He had planned on spending the day with Brian, his shift at the diner wasn’t until 7 and he had no classes; just some projects that weren’t due yet. Finally, mind made up, Justin headed to the bus stop. Breakfast was what he should do.

Thankfully, this time of the day during the work week meant that he wouldn’t run into any of the gang, and Debbie was working the late afternoon shift, so Justin was able to sit alone and brood. There was no one left to talk to or even to turn to, and he had not been able to think of a single idea that could help Brian. Hell, he had even been planning on calling Cynthia for advice, but after this morning that was no longer an option. Justin ordered, but when his food arrived he just pushed it around his plate, playing with it instead of eating. He wished Vic were available, he would have known how to get Brian out of this funk. Justin laid a tip on the table and pushed his plate away. He decided he might as well head back to Daphne’s, he could start on some of his projects, but he doubted he would get much done.


Hours later, and not a single thing accomplished except more worrying, it was time for work. Thankfully, the diner stayed busy enough to ward off any questions or comments by Debbie, and by the end of his shift, Justin had decided the only thing left he could do was confront Brian. That explained his churning stomach and sweaty palms, Justin thought as he left the diner.

He stood outside the loft door, staring at it; he just couldn’t make himself open it and go inside. Justin wasn’t entirely sure what he would find. Finally, after a deep breath and a straightening of his shoulders, he slid the heavy door open. The loft was ablaze with lights and trashed! He looked around in shock. The only other time he could remember seeing it this bad was the first night when Brian had picked him up and brought him back. The older man had overturned furniture and knocked lamps askew with his juggling attempts. “Brian?” he called out, his voice wobbling with worry.

Justin couldn’t stop his little scream when Brian popped around the corner that separated the kitchen. “Sunshine!” Brian called out; arms outstretched one hand clutching a mostly empty bottle of Beam. “W-what are you still hanging around here? Just like my old man,” he mumbled. “Useless, never amount to something.” Brian giggled at his own words and stumbled away from Justin, and Justin closed his mouth and the loft door, following after the weaving man.

He flinched as Brian crashed into one of the loft’s support beams, and quickly hurried forward, wrapping an arm of support about Brian’s waist. “Jesus, Brian! How much have you had to drink?” he asked as he guided and half carried the drunken man to the bed.

Brian didn’t answer, just leaned heavily on Justin’s smaller frame. The trip up the stairs was the scariest part; Justin had thought for sure Brian was going to send them both to the floor before he got the brunette flat on the bed. Brian’s eyes were already closing as Justin wrestled him out of his jeans and shirt. The older man passed out even as Justin was covering him up and slipping silently from the room. Justin stood in the center of the loft surveying the damage. Justin gave a bitter laugh, Brian’s slurred words ringing through his head. Thankfully, the loft no longer had much in the way of furnishings, so the damage was minimal. This couldn’t go on, Brian was going to hurt himself is something didn’t give. Brian’s question, why are you still here, kept repeating itself in his head. Would his absence make any difference? Because Justin knew his presence sure wasn’t.

To be continued...