Title: "For You. For Me."

Author/pseudonym: xof

Fandom: Queer As Folk (USA)

Pairing: Michael/OMC, Michael/Brian

Rating: R

Status: New

Archive: Yes. Please. (Across The Pond, especially)

Feedback: xof@rose.net

Website: http://the-nesting-place.com/xof.html

Series/Sequel: Complete.

Disclaimers: I don't own these characters. I presume Showtime does...

Notes: Tons of luv, hugs and muse smooches to Alexis for seeing me through. And for the beta - as I hang my head in shame for missing so much. This story is a pre-quel to QAF, set ten years before Episode 1. The "scene" with the OMC was inspired by a real life event described by gay escort, Aaron Lawrence. If you want a naughty site to browse, this one is a real hoot. Where in the world hasn‘t this guy fucked….lol: www.aaronlawrence.com

Summary: A bad day leads into a worse afternoon and night - that is until Michael seeks out the one person he knows will see him though.

Warnings: None.

FEEDBACK is definitely desired. Venturing into background events on known characters is always a risk. So you’ll tell me if it works, right? Details gladly accepted.

The visit to see Brian hadn't been planned. Michael just knew he needed to see his friend. They'd been separated for months now: Brian at school and Michael at work following his own disastrous first semester of community college. It didn't matter that they were still in the same town. The distance caused by their change in circumstance had left them worlds apart in time management and responsibilities.

Michael lived with his mother still, while Brian had escaped his own family by living on campus. Brian worked nights to assist in paying for his education; studying during the day. Michael worked days and most Saturdays too. They talked on the phone, managed to meet for a beer and yet the times they'd been able to see one another were far outnumbered by the times they'd had to cancel due to shift changes or Brian's exams and papers. Not to mention the times that Brian bowed out for the latest of his tricks. Considering the newer crop he'd discovered at school....

For the first time in years, Michael had to make his way alone. He went out, but on a scale considerably reduced to his times with Brian. He didn't dare to chance as many trips to Liberty Avenue as before, now mostly on Saturdays when the stress of his week needed dancing into the ground. Fridays were up for grabs, but mostly going to Woody's fit the bill as Michael had the early shift on the following days.

Things had actually been going well for Michael. He was up for a position over at the Super Saver store. Wasn't the Big Q, but at least it was better than being a stock clerk cum "do want anyone told him" peon like the job he had now. His Uncle Vic had just come for a visit from New York. Was staying for a couple weeks before going back. That made his mom happier than was usual, even for Deb. Michael had been so busy with his job application and interview that he'd not noticed the lack of calls from Brian. A first.

But then….

Then his current supervisor received a verification of present employment from his potential employers, and he was summarily fired. Or rather, "let go for budgetary cutbacks." Like hell. So there he was jobless with no idea if he'd get the new job, and on his way back to his mother's house … only to find her in tears.

"God, Michael. Why him?" Her eyes rimmed red with anguish, and still all Deb could manage to say was one word. "Vic."

His uncle had tested positive for the HIV virus.

Hours passed - spent questioning, grieving and finding the courage to say they'd go on with life … as a family.

Michael slipped out of the house at close to eleven. He had to breathe, to not think quite so much. Woody's was his refuge that night. He was determined to forget, at least for awhile. In flesh or in an alcoholic haze. Either would do. It had always amazed him the ease with which Brian procured drinks for them both, illegally of course since they were both not of age. He hadn't managed that trick with the same ease. But tonight he would try to make up the lack.

* * * * *

Remembering back as he drove to Brian's, Michael had to sigh at his naiveté. There was the looking for free libations "look" and then there was the needy but looking to sell "look." And apparently, he'd been foolishly putting off the wrong vibe from the start. At least in retrospect.

"Where the hell is the damn turn off?"

Not only was he practically lost, but Michael was also fighting the stick shift in his Uncle Vic's car. He'd only driven one a few times and he pitied the poor transmission for his lack of experience. But his own need to talk to Brian overrode common sense. Come to think of it, that was something he could have said of himself for several years past.

The last couple times he'd been to Brian's dorm, Michael had always ridden as passenger. Not paying enough attention to where he was being driven either. So here he was making one final go round in the opposite direction to his last turn, in the hopes that he'd find where he needed to be.

"Finally."

Michael turned into the parking lot with a sense of relief. Now came finding Brian. Michael hadn't called ahead so there was no telling if his friend was in. Only 1 AM in the morning. Shit. The only thing on Michael's side for Brian being home was that it was a weeknight. And given that he was going to see Brian Kinney, that wasn't even a good indicator that he'd be in his room. Still, if Michael's present luck held - then fate owed him a kind one-off.

Michael felt out of place in this setting. His own failure to stick it through college was a sore point. But his decision to leave had seemed highly practical at the time. He remember walking by men and women who wore book bags, with notebooks in hand the last time he'd visited. It all seemed awkward to Michael. Too much like the high school life he'd dreaded and indeed, represented the academic achievement that had never been his niche.

He buzzed Brian's number from the security phone downstairs. Thankfully, he got a response after a long pause.

"Kinney, here."

"Brian, it's me."

"Mikey? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Just let me in. You know I hate these damn phones."

"I'd say you could have called ahead but your patience has taken a hike, I hear. Be down soon."

Michael had placed the phone back in its cradle, shivering in the cool evening air. He gazed out into the darkness as he huddled under the security light of the dorm's entranceway, becoming lost in memory. God knows he had much to fuddle his thoughts.

* * * * * * *

Michael hadn't been at Woody's long, before he noticed he was being watched. It was one of those moments where the feeling of being stared at was tickling down his spine. He looked over to the far corner of the bar and then stopped breathing for a moment.

Take Michael Douglas circa "Romancing the Stone" and then put him in a gay bar in dress slacks and button down shirt and you'd have the type man that had purposefully caught Michael's eye. He was older. Possibly late 30's, maybe even 40. Refined looking but with the edge of roughness that caused Michael to keep looking.

He was totally mesmerized. No one who looked like that had ever taken so obvious an interest in Michael. He knew that Brian would have seen the man and made some comment about one foot in the grave, but watching as the stranger stood up and walked his way left no doubt in Michael's mind that such thoughts were bullshit.

"Want a drink?"

One question, one beer, one quiet exchange of words and that's all it had taken. Even in retrospect, Michael didn't know his own reasoning for saying yes so quickly. The man's voice was nice. Soft but strong. Knowing just what to say, how to best phrase the offer for Michael to follow him. Out the door, into his car and over the threshold of a semi-nice hotel twenty minutes away.

It was then, pressed up against the door of the room by the weight of his trick that Michael realized in the rush of saying "yes" - the two hadn't even exchanged names. He felt like he was in a zone. Experiencing the thrill of doing for the sake of wanting to. Looking into the man's eyes, Michael hoped he didn't look as wanton and willing to please as he felt.

Of course, he looked exactly as wanton and willing to please was he felt.

"I want you to take off your clothes for me. Slowly. Stay right here. I want to watch." The man walked backwards and sat on the bed.

Michael closed his eyes, took a breath then opened them again as his fingers popped the snap of his jeans and lowered the zipper. In the blink of an eye the time passed and Michael was naked; hard and naked. His partner murmured in appreciation, then returned to press fully clothed against the length of Michael's young body.

"Nice. Very nice. Now keep your hands still. I'm going to touch you and I want you to focus on how it feels."

Green fire. That's all Michael could center on was the heat of the man's gaze. Caught and willingly held as slightly callused hands stroked down his chest before moving down his stomach, Michael moaned as they slipped away from his groin without a touch to circle around to his ass.

"This feels nice. Firm, smooth and round in my hands. This is an ass to answer any dream." He teased fingers down the crease, smiling as Michael moved back into the touch. "I bet you don't even know the full pleasures this can give you." His squeezed the cheeks for emphasis.

Managing only the gruffest of replies, Michael answered. "I've been fucked before."

Chuckling, the man shook his head. "I'm not talking about bending over for a plowing. Fumbles and quick thrusts." He smoothed the tips of his fingers in slow circles at the top of Michael's ass, hinting at a downwards press but never going further in. "I'm talking about being teased, touched and taken in such a way that your ass becomes your whole world. Till it is all you know." His hot breath bathing Michael's cheek as he leaned in, the man turned purposefully away from Michael's offered mouth to speak into his ear. "I'm going to give you that. It's what I want. Say yes."

"Yes." Michael's mind managed a one-word affirmation of his desire, before shutting down as his trick pushed a leg between Michael's own.

"Lift up your leg. Wrap it around the back of mine. Yeah, like that. See how it opens you up for me to play?"

Michael moaned as his cock pressed into the friction of the man's pants. Fingers were fluttered down the outer curve of his crease before inching inward just a touch on the journey back up to the base of Michael's spine. His cheeks were held apart before he felt the first graze of the fingers over his opening. "There's the spot. We'll have to give it extra special attention, yeah?"

Michael rolled his head against the solid door at his back, panting as he reveled in feeling the rasp of the man's linen shirt against his nipples along with the brush of fabric along his inner thighs. "Please. I want you."

The man hummed in agreement before speaking in the curve of Michael's ear. "Impatience of youth. Always thinking that the end is the all. Tonight, here with me, that's the barest fraction of the sensations I want to give you. To watch you feel." He licked slowly along the underside of Michael's jaw line from chin to ear. "Now hush with words. Moan, murmur and cry out as you please. The rest is not necessary tonight."

Later Michael would remember this line more than others his trick had said. He hadn't realized at the time that the man might have felt Michael's words where only for show. He'd been too busy being lost in pleasure to know any better.

"Turn around and place your hands flat above your head. That's right. Now spread your legs out for me."

The illicitness of his position reverberated in Michael's consciousness. So caught up in the moment, in the rush of being wanted like this, he quickly complied.

Fingertips barely felt trailed down the length of Michael's spine followed by the rise of those same fingers caressing him in long strokes - up his sides, over his shoulders and the back of his neck. They continued for a long while, rhythm ever changing - pressure sometimes firm and sometimes just a ghosting promise for more. But for every brush and press along his spine, Michael couldn't help but groan with the sweet tease of fabric grazing his behind - the man's erection rubbing against his rounded curves.

"Nice. So very sweet. Pale smooth skin I could bite into for days, leaving my mark." When Michael shifted nervously at his words, the man shushed him and pressed his hands back against the door frame. "No worries. That won't happen tonight. But it is a lovely thought considering the canvas of flesh before me."

Michael shivered as those talented hands traveled down the length of his raised arms - the tease of fluttered fingertips leaving him ultra-sensitive in their wake. Then the man lifted his fingers from Michael's body and stepped back over towards the bed. Turning his head to watch the man sitting on across the room, Michael eased his arms down - the tingled rush flowing in his veins as his blood circulated. He bit his tongue in an attempt not to ask the stranger what now. Michael's cock was hard, aching in a way that belied the little that they'd done so far. He reached down to touch it with a soothing stroke that was halted when the man spoke once more.

"You're too far away. Come here." He watched as Michael complied, smiling at the young man's self-conscious shuffle. Michael was more aware of his own nude state with every heated glide of the man's eyes over his body. Once he came to a stop, his trick tugged down on his hands until Michael was kneeling on the floor between the man's legs. "Reach into my pocket."

Taking a breath as he slipped his hand inside the dark trousers - wrong pocket. He reached into the other and pulled out a small tube. It was lube. But….

But he hadn't found a condom. Sure it could have been in the man's back pockets, his wallet even. But Michael's immediate thought - his first rational thought for some while - was of his Uncle Vic. Positive. And all he could think was to ask in a whisper, "Condom?"

"Shh." That smiling voice chuckled as he shook his head. "We'll play safe, or not at all. It's agreed. But again, you're rushing things. There's a reason they call it foreplay."

Michael looked down at the floor, a blush searing its way across his pale skin. His partner reached forward and drew up Michael's chin.

"Now that's a rare thing in matters such as this … that kind of flush. Nice touch." Before Michael could wonder what was meant, the man pulled Michael into the curve of his own body. Chest to stomach, cloth covered cock to abdomen, before he took the lube from Michael. "Give me your hand." He coated Michael's fingers with the slick and then continued, "Now do as I say." Reaching around his body, the man spread Michael's ass open. "Play with yourself. Smooth your fingers around your hole, then ease the way. I want to see your face when you thrust them inside."

Michael's eyes widened at the command. The rush of blood sounding in his ears caused him to take a shuddered breath before he did as instructed. He'd touched himself like this before, when he was alone and wanted to bring himself closer to the edge while beating off. The feeling of being filled - it always heightened his experience and was one of Michael's chief pleasures. Bottom boy. The term echoed through his brain as he shivered with the first contact of his own hand.

He circled the tight ring, his gaze locked fast in the heat of the older man's intense green eyes. Michael had to gasp when he first smoothed then dipped his finger inside his ass. As was his tendency, Michael pressed his index finger all the way inside then stilled the motion as his body adjusted before slowing beginning the thrust in and out. His breathing quickened with the press and force of thrusting in the second, his middle finger twisted at his index's side.

"Hmm. That feels good, doesn't it." The man was rubbing his own cock through his pants as he watched Michael. "Push them all the way inside. That's right. Now slowly, circle them on the way out. Yeah, that's it. Look at you, hips thrusting as you fuck yourself. Perfect."

Michael was panted slightly, as the heated sheen of sweat covering his brow caused his hair to mat at the bangs. He could feel the burn dissipating, the fullness and press of his own hand working his ass at a stranger's command. And all he wanted was more.

Leaning forward, his partner spoke softly in Michael ear. "Stop. Shhh. Don't worry. I'll fill you again." Lifting Michael up off his knees, the man laid him over outstretched knees - ass up. Michael's cock hung free in the space between those legs, leaving him without stimulus or a way to bring him relief. The stranger's hard-on however was pressed firmly against Michael's side, being rubbed into his skin as his weight was distributed evenly.

The position, it played on Michael's mind - edging up his libido another notch as he once more felt those talented fingers easing over his skin. They stroked him from neck to ass, time and time again. Michael listened as the top of the lube was flicked open, and then a moment later he cried out as two fingers drove into his body. There wasn't any pain, just the unmistakable impact of intended possession. In and out, circling as they played - being spread ever wider as the man continued his progress, finger fucking Michael as he moaned in passion, groaning at the terrible tease of not having access to his own cock.

"Feel that. Such pretty sounds. And the way you move, oh . . . That's good, keep thrusting your hips against me." Michael sucked in a breath as his body's unconscious moments where echoed by the deliberate trusts of his partner's hips. The man was driving his restrained cock against Michael's body, the speed increasing rapidly as a third finger found its way into Michael's ass.

"Such a greedy ass, so eager for more. Deeper, harder. You'd take anything I would give. Good little fucker." That voice rung inside Michael's head, muffled by the rapid beating of his own heart and the staccato rhythm of his panting breaths. The fingers where driving him crazy, each thrust more invasive than the last but never - never touching that place inside that Michael craved. That he knew would make him come even without having his cock touched.

Each second caused the man to quicken his strokes, to murmur his pleasure and to increase the snap of his own hips against Michael's body. The words failed to make sense any longer, he was so close. Cursing as he trust his fingers home one final time, the man reared up - holding Michael to his body with the fierce clutch of his free arm - and grunted with the power of his own climax.

Michael was shaking. He needed to come, was so close and yet still denied. He could feel the wet seed as it damped the man's pants in an obvious stain across the groin. All Michael could do was wait with hands clutched in fists for the stranger to let him go, hoping that his moment would be next.

His partner had fallen over Michael's back, breathing loudly in the aftermath - his fingers still up Michael's ass. "Hmm … so good. You did well."

Michael was allowed finally to stand up. He had to move slowly as he fought a wave of dizziness. Blushing even more at the thought of what he must have looked like in the last few minutes, Michael looked into the man's face. He waited for any indication as to what they would do next. It wasn't evident to him that he was acting in complete placation to the stranger's desires. Michael just didn't think to question his own wants over those of his partner's. So still he waited, hard and aching.

The man smoothed a hand over his crotch, the same hand that was coated with lube, spreading his cum into the fabric with an obvious look of pleasure rather than discomfort that would have been Michael's response in his place. "Haven't felt this hot in awhile, boy." He stood up and pulled Michael close with a hand at his neck.

Finally, Michael thought he'd get the kiss he'd been wanting. Michael loved to kiss. But as he opened his mouth, eagerly, the man purposefully bypassed the offered lips. Shit. Well, not all men kissed. Still it left a bitter taste that he wasn't allowed even this solace while standing with cock pulled up hard by the blood in his veins. Left out of the circle.

Walking passed Michael, the man instructed him to go into the bathroom. At his questioning look, he was told, "You need to wash up now. I want you clean. Clean enough to taste."

Michael drew in a deep breath and smiled. Rimming. Now that was something that he knew would make him come. Wouldn't take much, either. "Okay." One last brush of the man's hand down over his ass and Michael went to do was he was told.

* * * * * * *

"Shit. I acted like a fucking idiot."

"Things going like always, then?"

"Fuck! Jeez, Brian. Warn a person before sneaking up on him." Michael had been too wrapped up in thinking about what had and had not happened to him that evening that he hadn't noticed Brian's arrival.

Brian just stood in the light of the entranceway, his breath clearly visible in the cold night air, and looked at Michael with a smile. He looked beautiful, young and confident with full lips - hazel eyes half in shadow. Amazing really, despite the touch of bed head and stubble which served to add to his appeal rather than detract from his perfection. After a minute, he put out a hand and stepped back so that they could both go inside. "Come on in." He didn't ask Michael anything as they climbed the stairs of his dorm. They remained quiet all the way down the hall to Brian's room. He'd lucked out and gotten a single, so there was no roommate to disturb.

The room was nice and warm, so Michael threw his coat over the chair by Brian's desk. The room was as clean as the last time he'd visited. Nothing out of order. One desk, a closet, one bureau, a bookcase and a bed.

Brian flopped down on the bed, leaning back against the wall along which it was pushed. He waited for Michael to say something, or at least for him to sit still and stop pacing. When several seconds passed and still Michael hadn't said anything, Brian sighed. "Will you sit the fuck down." At his friend's flinch, he said gently, "Come on, Mikey. Tell me what's up."

Michael stopped. He went over and sat next to Brian on the bed, gingerly which made Brian laugh.

"What have you been doing you dirty boy? Or should I ask who?"

"Ha ha." The sarcasm behind Michael's quietly voiced response sounded heavily in the quiet room.

Brian turned his head to look at his friend, again not saying a word but those eyes weighted down on Michael's determination not to spill all his news in a rush. Sad sack-ville, here we come.

"Hasn't been the best of days, I guess."

"Hmm. Okay. So tell me."

Drawing in his courage, Michael answered. "It's more than one thing. One thing I could've handled alone. But well, shit." He looked down at his hands, both clasped together till his knuckles were white. As Michael tried to figure out how to say what he needed to, Brian reached over and took his hand.

"Just talk to me, Mickey."

Michael stared at their hands, fingers intertwined and the sight allowed him the freedom of speech.

"You know my Uncle Vic is in town. He.. He's sick."

"Sick, how?"

"He's tested positive, Brian." Looking into Brian's eyes, Michael spoke in a low tone that most people reserved for the mention of 'cancer.' "He's got HIV."

Brian seemed to freeze. He stopped breathing for the moment it took him to shake his head and clutch Michael's hand. "Fucking hell." Then he seemed to not know what to say.

The pause drew itself out until Michael felt a single tear fall from his eye. It was the first he'd given at the news. In the years to come, it would not be his last.

Brian reached over and rubbed the back of Michael's neck, touching their foreheads together as he spoke. "I'm so sorry, Mikey. He.... He doesn't deserve that." Looking past Michael's shoulder, Brian frowned. "No one does."

Michael nodded. "Yeah."

Brian glanced sideways, his brow creased with dark emotion. A beat passed in the ilk of time as he seemed to struggle with what to say next. "How's … how is Deb taking the news?"

Michael spoke softly, his voice ruff with sadness. "She's hurting real bad. And clinging to hope."

Brain agreed, "Sounds like her. Mikey, tell …. Tell her. Well, you know. That I…."

Knowing that what his friend meant, Michael whispered in reassurance when Brian failed to finish his thought. "I know, Brian. I'll tell her."

They sat there, shoulder to shoulder for a long time. Each was caught up in their own heavy response to the news and to the implications it could and did hold over their own lives.

Brian broke the silence finally with a commonplace question, though the query proved ironic given Michael's conceded response thereafter. "It's late. What time do you need to be up for tomorrow's shift?"

"I got fired."

"What!?! What do you mean you got fired?"

Michael closed his eyes and then answered. "They found out today that I was trying to get a job at Super Saver. Officially, I'm a budgetary cutback but Maggie in the main office let me know that was bullshit." He let Brian's hand go and ran his fingers through his dark hair. "Doesn't matter, though. If I don't get the job with the other store, I'll find something. It was the timing that was fucked. I come home from being let go and see Mom crying and Uncle Vic pale as death. Shit, all I wanted to do was not think. To do anything but think."

Brian agreed, "No kidding. That would be my first response, too." He stood up and turned off the ceiling light, leaving the room illuminated by only the bedside lamp. "You're staying with me tonight. Want a pair of sweats?"

Michael had to smile briefly at the obvious assumption that he'd do as Brian chose. The smile left him when he remembered earlier that night and the way he'd done what his trick had told him as well.

Trick. Fuck, he was a fool.

"My boxers will be fine." He knew from long history and many sleepovers that Brian's body radiated heat so that sweatpants wouldn't be necessary. Besides, that would be more layers than he'd want between him and Brian. Michael got up and began to undress for bed. He watched out the corner of his eye while Brian shucked the sweats he'd been wearing to open the door for Michael. His friend's bed was rumpled too. "Were you asleep when I called?"

"More like drifting. Not awake, not asleep." Brian sat on the bed and waited for Michael to finish. He always slept on the outer edge when in a single bed, on the right. Which meant that Michael would have to be between the wall and Brian. "Doesn't matter. I don't have a class till two, since my nine o'clock was cancelled."

Michael crawled into bed and laid down, forgetting for a moment that his ass was still a bit sore. "Shit." He quickly turned over on his side, facing the wall and hoping that Brian hadn't heard his mumble. The bed dipped as Brian climbed in and drew the covers over them both. Michael closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep, but soon knew that it would be long in coming when he felt Brian's arm pull him back into the spoon of his friend's body.

"So do you want to tell me the rest of it? Like why you are walking like a eighty year old man with hemorrhoids."

Despite the pleasure of feeling Brian's hot breath gusting over his ear, that last image made him cringe. "I've delivered enough doom and gloom for one night. That's a tale for another time."

Brian gave him a squeeze. "Oh no you don't. You're talking."

Deep sigh. Michael opened his eyes, determined to stare at the wall so he wouldn't have to see the look of humor on Brian's face when he heard the story. "I told you. I didn't want to think. Went to Woody's. Met someone. Left with someone. The end."

Brian hummed softly as if he were thinking things through, before he finally spoke again. "Nope. That's not everything. You wouldn't sound so reluctant to tell me if you'd just had a good fuck. The end." He nipped gently at Michael's ear and laughed when his friend swatted him away. "Tell or tickle torture will commence."

Smiling sadly, Michael continued. "I made a mistake. Or rather he did. He picked the wrong guy."

Brian stilled his teasing, catching onto the dull sound of Michael's tone. There was a flatness that showed up only when his friend was feeling his most self-deprecating. "What do you mean?"

"He.... We went to his hotel, or rather a hotel. Things were going so well. Hot. Very intense. I was too ... I was too stupid to notice that things weren't like I thought. Or like he thought, rather. Should have realized. He wouldn't kiss me. I wanted to so bad, but each time I tried he'd turn away. So I figured he was one of those that don't do kissing. He didn't take his clothes off. I'm there naked and he's not. Just thought at the time that it was incredibly hot to be … exposed. He was telling me what to do, taking control and I went along because none of what he wanted seemed out of place. Only later I realized things were off."

Michael paused, listening to the sound of his and Brian's quiet breathing. Then he finished. "He just wanted to play with me. Wouldn't let me touch him. He put me over his lap and finger fucked me till he came in his pants. Afterwards I stood up waiting, hard as a rock. God, I wanted to come so bad. But I wasn't supposed to touch myself. He told me to go into the bathroom and wash up so we could play some more. So I did. When I got out, he was gone and…."

Brian ran a hand over the back of Michael's neck when his friend stopped talking again. "And?"

Closing his eyes tight, Michael nearly choked on his last words. "There was money on the bed. Five ten dollar bills laid out side by fucking side." A beat passed and then he shivered despite Brian's body heat. "I guess that could be considered my best hourly wage to date, right? Jeez, I'm such an idiot."

"Like hell." Brian jerked Michael around till they were facing each other. There wasn't a trace of humor in his smoke darkened eyes, just concern and fierce determination. "You are not to blame for that asshole's mistake. You may be naive at times, but never an idiot. Tonight was his problem - understand? You, Mikey. You're fantastic."

There were plenty of times that Michael had heard a compliment and been instinctually dismissive of the gesture, but never in moments like this. Brian looking at him, holding him close and all Michael knew was that it was a world of wonderful to be thought of as such by this man. It lent strength to his believing.

As if to fight against his own growing sense of worthiness in the light of Brian's conviction, Michael closed his eyes with one more admission. "I took it before I left. The money. And I don't know why. Fuck, Brian. What does that make me?"

Ruffling his friend's hair as he pushed back Michael's bangs - forcing the man to look at him again, Brian answered in a firm voice. "Practical. No, don't shake your head. Listen to me. You didn't go into that room thinking anything was going to happen but fucking for fuck's sake. To get your needs met. There's no taint on you for that shit's misconceptions. You're not a whore and you're not a manipulator out to make a quick buck."

Michael had to smile for a brief moment. "Are you trying to say that I had honorable intentions? That's right up there with I'll respect you in the morning."

Brian cuffed him playfully. "I mean that you are not less of a person, a good person, for having found yourself in a mistake. He used you and left you hanging. The money has nothing to do with how this should make you feel. Besides, what was the other option? Leaving it for the maid. It wasn't something you earned. But after what he did, it is something you deserve to keep."

After a moment, Michael nodded. There wasn't a contradiction to Brian's argument that wouldn't put him in harsher light. And he felt too battered by life today to want to disagree. "Thanks, Brian."

Brian reached out and turned off the bed side lamp, enshrouding the room in darkness. Pushing Michael over so he could once more spoon against his friend's back, Brian hugged him from behind. "Anytime, Mikey."

They lay in silence as each welcomed the warmth and familiarity of their positions, both in this bed and in each other's lives. And as the minutes passed, each man found the comfort to sleep.

* * * * * * *

Bringgggg. Bringggg. Bringgggggg.

"Shit. Who the fuck is that?"

Michael was startled out of his rest by the sound of a ringing phone echoing in the room's darkness and the sound of Brian's voice, both clipped and angry as the phone was answered with a jerk. Keeping still, Michael listened with the muffled reason of one half asleep … interested, curious but still craving the oblivion he'd been pulled from without his consent.

Brian drug the phone and cord under the comforter as he burrowed back into the warmth of his bed and its current resident. He was laying on his back with the covers drawn up to his chin, the position causing Michael to be trapped on his side facing the wall as Brian spoke to the mystery caller.

"It's three in the damn morning. What in hell couldn't wait till tomorrow, Parker?"

More silence followed as the tension of Brian's body began to ease as he quietly listened to Parker's reply. Michael always found listening to one-sided conversations to be intriguing. Meant you could make up anything you wanted for the other person's end. But listening to Brian, hearing his voice drop into a low husky seduction, made Michael focus instead on the flow of Brian's spoken song. And he knew as the conversation continued that he'd gained the proof that a person's voice would be as hot and penetrating as cock up one's ass.

"Oh yeah? I don't remember giving you my number."

"Worth my while, huh? I think you are forgetting how priceless my time is these days."

"What makes you think I care about your blue-balled condition? I might like you aching and ready to beg. Drawing out the pressure is half the fun."

"Ask me correctly and I'll think about saying yes."

"Hmm … that was good. Your voice just pitched down an octave. But I'm still not convinced."

"My dick has a mind of its own, though mostly it and my brain are of like minds on this subject."

"Prove it."

"You are such a needy slut, calling me and asking to be fucked. I can see you now. You're naked and spread out on that creaky bed of yours, legs spread wide. Oh you want it; you want me. My mouth. My cock. You want to be touched, controlled. Owned."

"Well, that's bullshit. Love is bullshit. This isn't about that."

"I'm not listening, Parker. Understand something. We are not about holding hands and sunsets. We fucked. End of story."

"You're still on the line. Which priority are you more focused on now? Romance or lust?"

"Nice image. Say it again. Yeah, that ... Parker. Parker, you aren't touching that delicious dick are you?"

"You'd like that. Like having my hands on you again. My tongue tracing down your back, over your balls. Would you hold yourself open for me? Plead for my fuck, with tongue ... cock. You're so damn hot to jack it wouldn't take much."

"Yes, I'm fucking hard."

"No."

"I said no. Look, Parker. This isn't going to happen. Not again."

"I've had you."

"Yeah, well fuck you too."

Michael bit his tongue to keep quiet, though the clenching of his hands under the covers were a testament to his body's response at hearing Brian's conversation. Lord, the memory. Him being taken down onto the bed, guided and gentled as Brian undid his fly. Touching him. Stroking his cock. Over two years had passed and still the image, the sense memory of that experience was as intoxicating as any drug. Mixing his body's reaction to it with the reality of having been twice on the edge of coming without recourse - both earlier and here in Brian's bed - left Michael half mad with arousal. Damn his day. And damn this night.

He wanted to shift his legs, to move in such a way that he could ease the pressure in his balls. Anything to help stop the ache. But moving meant breaking the shell of Michael's self-imposed restraint.

Then he heard Brian shift to put the phone back in its cradle. Michael took that second to shift his weight further up onto his hip, thinking that Brian would not notice his wakefulness. Of course the move caused him to rock between dueling sensations - ass twinge and painfully hard cock, both of which brought an unconscious mumbled hiss from his mouth. One not covered by the shifting sheets of Brian's return to the bed.

With a sudden move, Brian rolled back into full contact with Michael's spooned body. He jerked Michael closer as he spoke in a raw tone. "Give it up, Mikey. I'm the one who sleeps like the dead, not you. You're always the sentinel at watch ... keeping nightmares at bay."

Michael gasped as Brian's groin pressed against his ass, the hard evidence of the man's cock digging into the crease through the cotton of the boxers. "Brian, what…." His question was cut off as he felt Brian's hand travel down his chest, stopping a hair's touch away from the hard-on that tented Michael's underwear.

"One more inch and it would feel like heaven. My hand on your cock, the grip and friction."

Fighting the need to thrust up into Brian's reach, Michael stopped his whimper with the release of a breathy sigh. "This isn't about me, Brian. It's about you wanting this Parker guy."

Brian nuzzled his friend's neck, tracing the warm skin with a long brush of his tongue. "If I wanted Parker, then he'd be here. This isn't about him."

Michael bit back a sharp remark, settling for what in his mind was the truth. "No it's about you." Curling over towards the wall, he rubbed his head into the soft pillow. "I'm tired. And I've been used enough tonight."

The silence that followed added to the anxiety in Michael's mind. He didn't know if Brian was about to explode in anger and throw him out, but the dread had started to build. Another beat....

One hand traveled through the hair at the back of Michael's neck, as Brian rubbed slowly over his friend's stomach with the other. Petting him. Easing him back into Brian's warmth again. "Then how about this being about you." Rocking slowly against Michael as he imitated a more provocative rhythm, Brian growled out softly, "You need it. After everything, I bet you're as hard as steel." Rubbing his nose against the back of Michael's neck, he murmured. "I don't want you to feel so lost. But I do want you to feel ... the fire as it builds, the pressure, the rush. You deserve the pleasure. Accept this."

Brian pulled at Michael's shoulders, turning him over onto his back. He looked down into Michael's eyes, able to see their chocolate shadow even in the dark. "No worries, nothing but your hand in mine." Not waiting for Michael to speak, Brian cupped his friend's right hand … guiding it over the warmth of Michael's chest. Controlling the press and stroke as he talked. "Feel. Your nipples are hard. Skin soft, but these…." Brian rubbed Michael's fingertips over each nub as he spoke. "These are ready to burst."

Michael shuddered as Brian played him with his own hand. He closed his eyes as Brian told him what to do, guiding him in how to do it.

"Pinch them. Nice. Bet that hurts so good. Did he touch you like this?"

"N ... no."

"Hmmm. His loss." Brian pushed the hand down, Michael's fingers stroking over familiar territory made new again with the novelty of Brian's focus. "So pale. Your skin.. The way every emotion skirts its way across it in ever evolving degrees of blush." He drug Michael's hand down his flat stomach, dragging the top of his friend's boxers down … brushing the cotton over the wet tip of Michael's cock. "Do you want to touch it? To feel the length of it, the weight." Leaning in until Michael could feel the heat of each word against his own mouth, Brian teased. "Would feel so good, yeah?"

"Brian. I…. I want.... Let me, please. Let me come." Michael's voice was rough with the stir of mindlessness that can haunt the sexually needful.

"Hmmm…. It's not a question, Mikey. You're going to give yourself everything. I promise." With a jerk of his free hand, Brian took off Michael's underwear. Leaving it to tangle at his feet in the bed. "Just like you need."

With that first clasp and glide of his fingers being led over his own hardened flesh, Michael gasped out a sigh. Almost a hiccup of relief. "Uhmm. Yes."

As Michael's hand took to the stroking rhythm and held to the pattern of long experience, Brian eased his own grip ... tickling his fingertips over the back of Michael's hand as it moved fast and frantic. "Faster, Mikey. Give in to the need. Feel it, welling up inside. Feel the slick heat, so hard ... hmm."

Brian's voice flooded Michael's consciousness and he opened his eyes wide, searching in the dark to see the mouth that spoke those words. Panting as he arched his hips upwards into the strokes of his own hand, Michael stared at Brian's lips. So close, but miles away in their absence from his. "He didn't let me. He didn't want to ... To ... uhmmm."

Brian cut off Michael's words, giving him what they both knew was lacking. Lips as molten as mercury claimed Michael's mouth, taking his last breath as the shock of climax slammed into Michael's body. He moaned as Brian's tongue teased over his own, the liquid warmth echoing Michael's hot seed as it spilled over his spasming stomach to wet his chest.

The moment stretched, endless in their desire not to break the connection of their kiss. And when finally they drew apart, Michael realized they'd curled together while lost. Brian was sprawled almost fully over Michael's torso. Hugging Brian to him, Michael rolled into their embrace ... enjoying the sensation of resting chest to chest rather than back to front.

Shifting his leg, Michael broke into a grin as a question he'd been thinking about was answered with the feel of the damp crotch of Brian's boxers against his thigh. He laughed softly, feeling none of the anxiety he'd feared would follow such a moment between them. Michael lay in wonder at how glad and free the last few minutes had made him feel.

Brian's face was buried in Michael's shoulder, so his words tickled his friend when as last he broke the silence. "Mmm. Feeling better?

"Feeling great. Which is weird."

"Why weird?"

"Us after what just happened. Not a typical sleep over."

Laughing low in his throat, Brian said, "Not that we've gotten much sleep." He lifted up and brushed Michael's dampened hair back off his forehead. Placing a kiss in the center, Brian asked seriously, "You okay?"

Smiling as he spoke, Michael nodded. "I'm good."

Hugging Michael as they both snuggled closer, Brian reached down and pulled up his friend's boxers. They settled together on the bed, lying quiet with only the sound of their beating hearts to lull them towards sleep. On the cusp of forgetfulness and rest, Michael heard Brian speak.

"Stay safe, Mikey. Stay well."

Losing his own hold with consciousness, Michael whispered on a half breath. "For you. For me."

And the rest was silence….

Finis