Name: She Loves You/ Fair Fight
Summary: A short AU fic involving Ethan, and A 219 gapfiller
Authors: darksylvia and luciblue
Pairing: Brian/Justin
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: CowLip owns. Bah.
Author's Notes: darksylvia beta'ed my fic. She's amazing and our names rhyme. Other than that, if you hate my fic, don't kill me, I chose not to be an english major for a reason.



AU Snippet. She Loves You.

Brian slid the door to the loft open. It revealed a dark-haired young man with delicate facial features and a patch of hair on his chin. His clothes were second-hand and he had a sort of twinkle in his eyes. Brian would probably have fucked him, until he spoke.

“You’re Justin’s boyfriend?” he asked. Well, demanded. As he looked Brian up and down with a curiously hopeless look.

“Sort of,” he said and felt a small flair of caution.

“Sort of?” asked the man skeptically. “How can you sort of be someone’s boyfriend?”

“I don’t see what business it is of yours,” he said, putting on his most distainful stare.

“It’s my business because I’m fucking your who-ever-he-is.” At least he was blunt.

“I’m sorry, you must mean ‘fucked’. As in past tense.”

“Yeah,” the young man said dismissively. “He told me about the rules. But what I don’t get is why he’d settle for that. There are tons of guys who would do anything for him. I’ve only known him a few weeks, and I know I could fall hard, very easily.”

“Justin makes his own decisions,” said Brian, wondering if he should just slam the door.

“Yeah, he says that too. Word for word, almost.”

“Was there something you wanted?” He’d run out of patience for this conversation.

“Yeah.” The man took a step forward so that he was nearly nose-to-nose with Brian, arrogance radiating from his young face. “Your boyfriend is so in love with you that he can’t see what an asshole you are. I’d take him from you if I thought I could. Can’t you see it? I can see it even when he’s just talking about you. You don’t even have to be there to see the way he warms up at even the mention of your name.”

“I still don’t understand,” said Brian, cooly, “What you’re doing here.”

“I don’t care if you don’t understand!” exclaimed the man. “At some point, Justin is going to go looking for you and you won’t be there. And then he’s going to come to me. And I’m going to fucking appreciate him.”

“Ethan?” said a voice, from down the stairs. Justin’s head popped into view, shining like hope, like purity, like a bunch of sappy things Brian would rather have died than admit to thinking.

“Justin,” said Ethan.

“What are you doing here?” Justin asked. He was still panting a little from jogging up the stairs and he was holding a canvas under one arm.

“Nothing,” said Ethan. He shrugged. “I came to invite you to hear me play again on Saturday.”

“Oh.” Justin glanced a little apprehensively at Brian and Brian suddenly hated that look. Like Brian was a ticking bomb. A food at the back of the refridgerator that might have gone over. Brian said nothing.

“I have to work pretty much all day,” said Justin. “So I can’t really come. But thanks for inviting me.”

“Sure,” said Ethan. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

“Maybe,” said Justin, non-comitally. Brian didn’t ask. Justin didn’t explain.




Fair Fight. 219 Gapfiller.

What I need is a good defense
'cause I'm feeling like a criminal
and I need to be redeemed
to the one I've sinned against
because he's all I ever knew of love

-Fiona Apple, Criminal.

I come home just under the wire. Unfortunately, Brian's awake. I tell him I've got to shower, and I have to because if I don't, Brian will be able to tell that I've been fucked, yet again, at the same time, with the same scent all over me. You always shower, he tells me. He says he likes the way I smell, not soap...if only he knew. I don't even smell like me anymore I've been spending so much time with Ethan. Touching Ethan. Kissing Ethan. Getting fucked by Ethan. Do I even have my own smell anymore?

He's looking at me with some intent in his eyes that I have never seen before. And of course Brian feels--he feels things everyday--and I'm sure he has feelings this deep, but he has never lets me--or anyone else for that matter--see them. Ever. As he runs his thumb over my lips, I begin to freak out. What if he knows?

And then we're kissing; kissing like tomorrow's the apocalypse and we're all going to die. Like it won't ever be like this again. My feelings come in waves; I freak out first. There's shock and panic: he knows. He fucking knows that I've broken the rules by fucking someone more than once.

Then there's guilt: knowing that I've hurt him, that I created these rules for us to live by and then proceeded to break them. I'm so pathetic.

Immediately following is sadness: knowing that I've fucked up so badly I probably won't be able to fix things. I'm thinking about how I managed to weed my way into Brian's heart--knowing full well that he had put walls up because he was afraid of getting hurt--and then harming him anyway, which I had never intended to do. Not in a million years.

And finally, anger: isn't it his fucking fault that I'm with Ethan, anyway? Inadvertently, in some fucking twisted manipulative way? He pushed me so far away. Where was I supposed to get love? He doesn't love me. I'm sure he cares about me, but he'll never give me the attention and affection that someone like Ethan could. And that makes me angry most of all, the fact that I'm angry with myself as well for believeing that Brian could ever be someone like Ethan. I can't believe that I lead myself to think that some day he could, and I have only myself to blame for that.

But when you've got the hottest man in America grinding against you and kissing you like he's been sex-starved for years, anger will segue into horniness. And so it does. He's kissing me with a passion that's always there below the surface, but never really comes out. The kind of passion that's saved for times like these. Times when we’re so elated or so horny we can't do anything else but fuck. When we’re so angry and hurt we don't know what else to do but fuck it all away.

I feel so hot, and I'm so hard. I think all the blood in my body has rushed to my cock. And Brian's hard, too. That feels so good, knowing that I can at least still turn him on. That triumph is quickly shot down--most of gay Pittsburgh can turn Brian on. But The room feels like it’s spinning, and I let the sensation overtake me.

And then we're on the floor and my shirt is off. He asks me if I like it, all breathy and hungry to fuck me. Do I like it? I fucking love it, I want more of it. But Before I can say so, he tells me that I stink and that I need a shower. I'm so ashamed. I lay there for a few seconds and gather myself, and do the only thing that I can: get in the fucking shower, alone. All the heat that I felt has frozen, and I feel cold. There's one problem though, I'm so hard it hurts. And it's not because of Ethan.

The shower feels good, and I try to clear my head. I start to jerk off, but I'm so turned on right now I feel like I might rub myself raw. I quickly clean myself up, turn off the shower and head into the bathroom, hardly bothering to dry myself.

__________________

Justin comes out of the shower abruptly, just short of dripping wet, with a leaking cock. And although Justin has always been open with his emotions, I've never see him this raw and upset before.

I'm still hard, and I can't hide it, seeing as almost undressed save for a plain white tshirt. He shoves me on the bed, and proceeds to sheath and lube me. I don't argue; I can't even really process what's happening. I hear myself gasp, and my body is jolted by the sensation of being taken in all at once. I grasp at his hips, and he slaps my hands away. He glares. Fucking glares!

All I really know is how fucking tight he is, and he's going at a pace that makes me sqeeze my eyes shut because it feels so fucking good. Our skin slaps together and his balls and cock are bouncing; he's frenzied. His ass is clenching me so tight I wouldn't be able to tell what day of the week it is. His fingers are in his hair, tugging at it in frustration, one of his arms is thrown over his eyes as he's trying to hide.

He's panting and gasping and growling and moaning. His hands move to my chest as he steadies himself, pinching my nipples before he leans down and sucks on them hard. I'm bucking up into him, my jaw clenched in effort, hands gripping the sheets, before he begins to shout.

"You're such a fucking slut! I hate you. I hate you! Fuck you." He nearly spits in my face, with a defeated look on his face.

We grapple; I need to calm him down. I try to hold his hands, try to hold his hips and slow his ministrations. I sit up and he tries to push me back down, before I grip the small of his back and pull him to me as tight as I can, with his hands trapped between our chests. I feel him give in a little, relax. He's heaving and crying, full anger and sadness. Maybe fear, like I feel.

A "shhhh..." comes out of my mouth and he gives me this you-can't-fucking-tell-me-to-shut-up-because-you've-fucking-broken-me-in-two look in rebuttal. His last effort to try and hate me for who I am and what I can’t be.

I just sit there and hold him. I move his legs to wrap around my back; I'm still inside of him. We rock together and he sobs. When he stops, we begin to move again, sweeter this time. Slower, like we have all the time in the world. I begin to think that we should, and that maybe we already do.

I kiss his neck slowly, and breathe heavily in his ear (God, I'm so hard. How is it that only he makes me feel this way? But yet, I can't fucking bring myself to say anything), feeling goosebumps spread on his skin. I grip his ass and lower back, pulling him toward me slowly to get his cock to grind against my stomach. He sighs contentedly and I change his angle, hitting his prostate. He takes in a sharp breath, moans, and moves to tighten his grip on my back so that he can move on my cock. We begin to buck and grind against each other, rocking together towards our favorite feeling.

"Brian...I'm going to...can you--ohh!- please." He struggles for words, "...can you...nnnnghh...with me, can we...together..? Ohh, mmm." He pleads. Just a little more and I can come with him.

Bouncing on my cock, shuddering and twitching, his ass starts to clench and unclench around my cock, getting me to be where he is. He hums low in approval, lost in our fucking.

Moans come spilling out of my mouth in warning. As he comes, his ass tightens around my cock and it sends me over the edge. I come hard, biting my lip. I take his head in my hands and kiss him, and he moans into my mouth, tightening his legs and arms around me, pressing himself into me.

The words, "Don't see him again," slip from my lips. I look into his eyes feeling the same sadness I did when he walked in tonight. I almost let him see too much that time, but after he ripped himself open and practically bled all over me I feel that I've got to give him this much. That, and Christ, we're both hurting each other, and what the fuck for?

He moves off me, lying on his back next to me, and I want him to stay. I tie off the filled condom and get a fresh one, rolling it onto my semi-hard cock. I move behind him and slide in slowly. He sighs and I hold him tight and kiss his shoulderblades. I feel like I should be able to give him more than just my cock in his ass.

"Justin, I..."

He nestles back into me, as he moves his head to kiss me. He gives me a kind, forgiving, knowing look. He already knows I've forgiven him; now we're equal.

We fuck again, slow and long. When he comes, he leans against me and says "sleep now,"

And we do.