Fandom: (Crossover) Queer as Folk US/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
E-mail: crissyd33@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17
Status: New/Complete
Pairing: Brian/Justin, Rage/Angel
Spoilers: A few very minor references to QAF episode 311 and BtVS S3. The story is essentially a dream-sequence and almost totally AU.
Disclaimer: Characters are property of Cowlip Productions and Mutant Enemy.
Summary: Brian shouldn’t watch tv before bed. It gives him strange dreams.
Dedication: To all of you wonderful Folks who kept asking me to do this—thank you for keeping me in your thoughts while I was “away” chasing vamps.
Notes: Pardon me while I have a little fun with these characters I love so much. It’s all meant in the highest spirit of homage, I promise.
From the couch, Justin looked up with the remote in his hand. “Buffy,” he replied. “Daphne thought it might give me some ideas for the comic book so she loaned me her DVD’s.”
“Rage is gonna fight vampires now?” Brian grimaced. “Holy puncture wounds, J.T.”
Justin’s blue eyes sparkled wryly. “I was thinking more along the lines of politicians, but . . .” He shrugged. “Same diff, really.”
Brian ignored him. He was too tired to defend his professional involvement with Stockwell that night. That topic always created way too much heated discussion between them that sometimes resulted in Brian not getting laid. No, he was going to let that sleeping dog lie that night.
Daring to look back at the screen, he was rewarded with a delicious visual of a tall, shirtless, well-built, sweaty brunette growling like an animal and straining against wide wrist shackles. He lifted his brow in surprise and appreciation. “I thought this was a kid’s show.”
“It works on a lot of levels,” Justin smirked. “Kinda like ‘Alice in Wonderland’.”
“I’d jump down his rabbit hole any day.” Brian licked his lips and let his eyes wander over the scrumptious male on the screen.
“That’s Angel,” the blond explained. “Buffy had to send him to hell and then this ring he gave her caused some sort of—” He looked at Brian again then rolled his eyes. “Never mind. Just look at the pretty pictures. There are lots of them.”
Brian remembered seeing promos for this show on television. He had a vague recollection that there was a spin-off, also, and that this guy was the star. Brian had a very clear image in his mind of seeing this same actor dressed all in black with a long, billowing leather coat wafting around him. Crazy, the things that stick in your head when you’re channel-bashing.
He stood there for another few minutes watching as the hunky number named Angel went on growling and snarling and straining. Brian snickered to himself. In real life, those sissy chains wouldn’t hold up a bird cage, much less restrain a big strappin’ lad like that. But the image was incredible. For the moment, Brian was transfixed.
“Doesn’t he talk?” he wondered. “I mean, not that he needs to.”
“Right?” Justin concurred. “He does, but not ‘til the end of the episode. It’s cuz of the hell dimension thing,” he explained. “He’s all feral right now. Usually, he’s in perfect clothes with a totally coifed ‘do. He’s like the epitome of cool. Actually, it would be hilarious to put him in a story with Rage. They could compare notes on their cool costumes before they fucked like minks in an alley.” The young one laughed at his own scenario. “Or something.”
“So, he’s a good vampire?” Brian squinted at the screen curiously. “Is there such a thing?”
The young one shook his head. “Really, Brian. Never mind. It’s a complicated story and you’ll think it’s totally stupid. Your eyes’ll glazed over with boredom.”
“Uh huh,” Brian said, but he was far from bored. In fact, he couldn’t look away from the screen.
The scene playing out before him was a creatively choreographed fight sequence, full of twists and tosses and surprising movements that were artful enough to hold Brian’s attention until the end. Even more interesting was the almost constant visual presence of that shirtless wonder Justin called Angel. When the camera panned the hottie’s body from his toes to his eyes, Brian tilted his head and squinted at the tv to get the best possible look. Damn, that guy was fuckable. And Brian could tell he’d lay down like a good little bottom, too. The butchest boys always did.
The episode ended shortly thereafter and Brian sighed, turning around and heading up to the bed. He was exhausted after a long day of duplicitousness with his very demanding wannabe mayoral client. In a way it was too bad Stockwell was such an ape. He was a little bit hot.
Brian laughed at himself. More than usual, he’d had sex on the brain all day long. But now that he was home and his most favorite boy toy was there for his pleasure, he knew he wasn’t going to be worth much that night. He was bone-weary and his eyes were burning and heavy.
Falling down on the bed, he barely managed to get his shoes off before his head hit the pillow. Brian was asleep almost instantly.
**************
A scrawny gray cat with gutter mud on its paws skittered through the alley behind the Library Tower. Rage stood stock still in the shadows, pressed up behind a putrid garbage bin. He’d trailed a man into that alley—a man he’d followed all the way across town from West Hollywood. Rage had witnessed that squat balding delinquent commit a vicious act of violence on a young brunette boy he’d picked up at a leather bar. Rage had waited to make sure the boy would be found and tended to, then he’d sprinted off to track this despicable troll—track him and teach him a lesson.
The man didn’t know he was being followed. He was just making his way home from what was likely a typical night in Boy’s Town for him. Rage had heard about this shiftless bastard from several of his cohorts. Heard about all his ruthless acts of hatred and fear. Rage had come to Los Angeles to dispatch a particular sort of justice—the kind only he could deliver.
There in the humid night, he waited while the pathetic little man fumbled with his keys and tried to let himself into a ground level apartment. Rage’s strategy was to let him get in, get into bed and just nod off to sleep—then he would attack. He had plans for this pathetic beast. Big plans.
His jaw tightened as he watched the man finally manage the deadbolt and go into the dark apartment. Rage slipped out of the shadows, moving silently down the echoing, piss-stinking alley to stand just outside the man’s door. Again, he pressed against the wall and remained motionless, waiting for his moment to strike.
The sound of softly billowing leather made him flinch in surprise, squinting into the narrow alley to find the source of the noise. Rage’s eyes picked up a faint reflection that he soon recognized as a silver belt buckle. The buckle was around the waist of a man wearing all black and framed gracefully in a long duster. The gentle whipping of the leather coat grew louder as the stranger approached—fearless and purposeful—and extremely tall.
Rage froze until the stranger had walked right up to him, then he stepped forward and squared his shoulders. For a long time, neither of them spoke. They stared at each other, sized each other up, eyes moving over the other’s body with keen interest. Rage noted the stranger was very pale—so pale, his skin was nearly luminous.
And he had the most amazing golden brown eyes.
“Who are you?” the stranger asked, his voice a rough husk.
Rage frowned uneasily as he realized this person, who was standing so very close to him, exuded absolutely no body heat.
“An avenger,” Rage replied, keeping his voice low and soft. He stared into the stranger’s beautiful eyes and tried to see what he could there—a hint, any indication of the other’s motives.
The stranger’s brow lifted very slightly in amusement. “An avenger, are you? That explains the outfit.” Those dark eyes flitted over Rage’s body once again. “Nice tights.”
Undaunted by the jest, Rage took a deep breath and met the other’s gaze challengingly. “Who are YOU and what do you want here?”
The dark stranger took a step back, indicating with his body language that he meant no threat. “What I want here is to have a few words with the man in that apartment. Who I am is no concern of yours.”
“I see,” Rage replied. He also relaxed his stance slightly, now that he knew he and this stranger were of similar minds. He nodded toward the apartment. “How do you know this asshole?”
The pale man in the leather coat narrowed his sparkling eyes at the door. “Let’s just say we have a friend in common. I’ve come to give him a message.” Turning his attention back to Rage, the stranger licked his lips. This was a seemingly unconscious gesture, almost as though he’d suddenly smelled something that made him hungry. “What do you want with him?”
Glancing down for a moment, Rage thought carefully about his answer before speaking again. “I’d settle for a painful, publicly humiliating death. Maybe something to do with an enormous dildo made of some rigid, unforgiving substance—like wood. With splinters.”
“Ouch,” the stranger mused. “I thought I was vindictive.”
Narrowing his eyes, Rage very seriously said, “I wrote the book on vindictive.”
The stranger’s face softened into a smile that became a tiny laugh. The expression altered his stern brow and fierce eyes so much, that he suddenly looked like a little boy. Even though he knew this man was laughing at him, for some reason Rage wasn’t the least bit bothered.
“Look, I’m sorry,” the stranger said. “It’s just . . .” Again, he looked Rage up and down, taking in the glimmering, skin-tight costume he wore. “I’ve never actually met a superhero before. Well, at least not one that dressed like you. I know a girl who used to have the hero gig wired, but her ass-kicking gear was a little more trendy. More Prada than polyester.”
Rage’s teeth clenched indignantly. “Polyester gives me a rash.” He lifted his chest, offered it to the stranger to inspect. “Silk. See for yourself.”
The tall, dark stranger hesitated and for a moment, Rage thought he would decline the invitation to touch. Strangely, Rage would have been extremely disappointed if he’d refused. Something about this man was utterly intriguing. His voice, his solid, gorgeous body, his height and those penetrating, knowing eyes.
Finally, the stranger moved forward half a step and extended his right hand. With the pads of his fingers, he softly felt the fabric stretched taut over Rage’s powerful pectorals. Those fingers were so very cool, but full of sensual awareness. Rage felt that touch all through his body and tried not to shiver visibly.
“Hmm,” the tall stranger murmured. “Very silky, indeed. I . . . like this part, especially . . .” His fingers moved lightly over the front of Rage’s costume until he came to the slash of exposed skin over his belly. “Makes you look like a big present that’s been half opened already.” Letting his fingers continue, he touched the naked flesh below Rage’s left nipple softly. Those dark eyes kept close watch on the other’s face, almost as though he were waiting to be told to stop.
“What do they call you?” Rage asked, his voice trembling slightly as the stranger teased his nipple.
“I’m Angel.” Cool fingers continued to explore the vulnerable skin of Rage’s chest. His cock twitched and lengthened in the snug confines of his tights.
“Angel,” he repeated, his eyes moving over that luminous face again. “Funny, I was thinking just the opposite.”
Angel lips tilted in a lopsided grin. Those cool fingers slipped in underneath the close fabric of Rage’s costume and smooth, finely manicured nails softly scratched the skin over his heart. Angel licked his full lips again and his eyes fluttered slightly. He flattened his hand over Rage’s beating heart and held it there, seeming to crave the rhythm of the pumping organ. Rage could feel his own pulse in his cock as it grew thick and hard against his thigh. But what he didn’t feel, was any heat or pulse at all in Angel’s hand.
Once again, he looked up into those dark eyes and searched them with his own. Angel looked back unflinchingly, his hand still pressed gently against Rage’s heart. For a long time, they just watched each other, standing so close in that dark alley, the din of the risky streets of downtown Los Angeles surrounding them on all sides.
“And what do they call you?” Angel whispered. “Anyone brave enough to run around in alleys dressed like this must have the perfect superhero name.” Stepping forward just enough to close the distance between their bodies, Angel pressed the top of his knee into Rage’s crotch, lightly lifting his tightening balls. This gesture was an invitation, not an assertion of dominance. The tall man in black was clearly interested in sampling Rage’s concealed powers.
Rage let out a ragged breath and felt his mouth flood with saliva. Swallowing, he met those dark eyes again and said, “I’m called Rage.”
Angel’s prominent brow lifted once again. “That’s quite a statement.” His knee moved slightly from side to side, rubbing the sensitive testicles in a gentle circle. “And what are you so pissed off about?”
Suddenly very aroused, Rage’s breath caught in his throat as his body responded to Angel’s ministrations. He tried to remain collected. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Angel said softly. “After all, we’re both in the same alley after the same asshole. Something tells me our purposes aren’t too far apart.” His eyes glittered like wet obsidian in the glow from a distant street lamp. “Try me.”
Swallowing, heart beating like mad, Rage met the other’s eyes imploringly. “I . . . I . . . can’t really . . .”
“What?” Angel whispered, leaning in so close their lashes almost touched. It was then that Rage felt the other man’s full, straining erection. Oh, yes. He was very interested, indeed.
“I . . . can’t really concentrate . . . with you . . . doing that . . .” Rage’s blood boiled and he felt light-headed as Angel tilted his head just enough to the left to keep their noses from colliding. Then, he licked his lips and pressed them firmly to Rage’s, inhaling the other’s scent deeply.
Dizzy with sensation and flooded with craving, Rage closed his eyes and took in a breath. Angel’s lips and skin were oddly cool, but he smelled delicious . . . freshly showered, slightly sweaty, a little musky and entirely male. Rage’s tongue slipped into that wet, willing mouth and searched for the sensitive spots. Tip of the tongue, edges of the gums, insides of the lips. These places were full of nerve endings and Rage teased them all with relentless intent. Suddenly, more than anything, he wanted to increase Angel’s desire as quickly as he could—make his cold skin heat up with passion. Using his teeth, he nipped not so gently at Angel’s full bottom lip and the tall man in black sighed with pleasure.
Noting that his interesting new companion liked to be bitten, Rage used his teeth again, that time on the tender skin of Angel’s upper lip. This brought the best possible reaction. Angel groaned and his large hands began to tug at the silky fabric of Rage’s costume. He wanted to touch as much flesh as he could get hold of, that was clear. Rage smiled into their rough kiss and reached for Angel’s shining belt buckle in the dark.
His deft fingers had those black trousers open and pushed aside in no time. Rage stroked Angel’s exposed belly, tugging at the soft hairs just below his navel. But something was registering wrong to his touch . . . something that made him stop in mid-kiss and look into the other’s eyes with prickling suspicion.
“What?” Angel said impatiently, chest rising and falling with excited breath.
“Your skin . . .” Rage whispered. “Here.” He touched Angel’s belly again—the skin he had just liberated from inside those black trousers. Skin that should have been warm. “You’re so cold. All over.”
For a moment, Angel just looked at him, his brow furrowing in the shadowy alley.
“Why?” Rage pressed. “Is something wrong with you . . . with your blood?”
Shaking his head, Angel looked down for a moment as though trying to read his response on the dirty wet ground. “It’s . . . I’m . . .”
“What?” Adrenaline dumped into Rage’s veins as his fight or flight instincts shifted into place. His heart began to beat very hard. “You’re what? Tell me.”
Angel looked at him then, directly, those dark eyes flashing with pain and mistrust. “I’m not human,” he said. “But I won’t hurt you. I don’t . . . do that anymore. Not unless I have to.”
“Not human?” Rage said, not entirely sure he wanted to know what sort of creature he’d just been kissing. “What the hell are you, then?”
Frowning, Angel tried to turn away, but Rage held onto him with his hands around Angel’s naked hips. They looked in each other’s eyes for a long silent moment.
“I’m a vampire,” Angel finally said.
Rage blinked in disbelief. “You’re joking, right? There’s no such thing as vampires.”
Angel nodded to the dark apartment door they stood beside. “No? I suppose there’s no such thing as monsters, either.”
“That’s different,” Rage said.
“Not really.” Angel stepped back and began to hitch up his trousers. “Look, never mind. Let’s just do what we came to do and then . . . go our separate ways.”
“I didn’t mean . . .” Rage said, then he frowned. He didn’t know what he meant. But he did know it wasn’t a good idea to have sex with a person so delusional he thought he was a vampire. Too bad, really. Damn, he was fuckable.
Angel’s silver belt buckle clinked softly as he fastened it. He glanced up at Rage with an almost sheepish expression, but then he set his jaw and lifted his chin in determination. “I’ll go around the corner and look in the window. See what he’s up to.”
“Right,” Rage said, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the tall man in black. Maybe if he just didn’t think about it, he might be able . . . Nah. Shaking his head, Rage turned back to the apartment door and refocused his energies on the wretched human being inside. His arousal had all but vanished for the time being, but he could always count on its easy return. Especially when J.T. was nearby.
Momentarily distracted by carnal thoughts of his young companion, Rage was startled by a soft thudding sound like footsteps and he turned to look down the alley. There was nothing there—nothing he could see—but the soft thudding continued. Then, suddenly . . .
. . . “Brian,” Justin whispered as he walked across the room and crawled on the bed. “Briiiiaaaaan . . . wake up, sleepy head.”
Groggily, he shifted on the bed and turned to face the scrumptious blond boy. Brian’s eyes were heavy with sleep and his cock throbbed with the erection his alter-ego never got to use in his dream.
“You were totally out,” Justin told him. “You were snoring.”
“I don’t snore,” he grumbled.
Justin snickered. “I know. I just said that to bug you. If you’re so tired, why did you invite me over?”
“I didn’t know I was so beat. But,” he rolled over on the mattress until he got himself on top of the boy, then he grinned playfully down at him. “That little nap was just what I needed.” Brian pressed his hard cock against Justin’s thigh and the young one licked his lips hungrily.
“Excellent. So, what the hell were you dreaming about, anyway?”
“Why?” Brian wet his own lips, then began kissing Justin’s supple young neck right below the chin. He smiled when the boy sighed with pleasure.
“You . . . were talking . . .” Justin said distractedly. “You said something . . . about being vindictive . . .”
Brian laughed softly, recalling the context of his vivid and very odd dream. Sliding his hands down Justin’s back until he came to the loose fitting sweats he was wore, he kissed the fragrant skin on his boy lover’s neck and worked the sweats down Justin’s legs. He left the soft white t-shirt on because he liked the way it looked on the kid. Especially when he was naked from the waist down.
Taking Justin’s instantly swollen cock into his mouth, Brian wet the organ generously with saliva. He inhaled and sighed as the familiar scent of the boy’s fluffy pubic hair flooded his senses. So sweet, so clean. Justin moaned and a warm, salty squirt of pre-come anointed Brian’s tongue. He grinned and took his favorite young cock into his mouth all the way down to the root.
Still sleepy from his deep nap, Brian’s limbs were heavy and relaxed. He felt a little like he was drugged, even though he wasn’t. With Justin’s savory, eager cock in his mouth, he closed his eyes and directed his attention to all the little moves his tongue and lips made, focusing and concentrating to give the boy the most pleasure. Justin’s fingers found their way into Brian’s hair and pet him adoringly, encouraging him to keep doing absolutely everything he was doing. His body writhed gently and his belly trembled as Brian felt the boy’s balls tighten. Taking the silky testicles into his hand, he tugged them gently, the way he knew Justin liked. Brian was rewarded with a deep moan.
“I’m going to come, Brian,” he gasped.
Stopping for a brief second, Brian looked up at his young lover and smiled. “Last I checked, that was the point.” Then he devoured that full, shuddering cock again, sucking it deep into his warm throat.
Justin groaned, tensed all over and then his cock erupted, shooting blast after blast of hot milky fluid into Brian’s waiting mouth. He swallowed every drop, gently lapping the boy’s sensitive cockhead as the orgasm had its way with him. Brian’s own erection pulsed and oozed against his belly. He could feel the moisture making his underwear sticky. But before he could lick up the last of Justin’s fresh tasting ejaculate, the boy wriggled on the bed and climbed up to straddle Brian’s hips. His still swollen cock bobbed invitingly just above Brian’s belly.
“I bet I can come again right away if you fuck me,” Justin said, his smooth cheeks pink with excitement and exertion.
Brian stroked the boy’s thighs and watched while Justin quickly divested him of his trousers. He slipped his hands up under Justin’s white t-shirt and tickled his silky belly. The young one grinned seductively.
“You like me in this t-shirt, don’t you?” Justin asked.
Brian’s lips spread in a wolfish grin.
“Does it make me look like a little boy?”
“You are a little boy,” Brian said, his fingers sliding further up under the shirt so he could toy with those hot pink nipples. “Keep it on so I can indulge my pervy fantasy.”
Justin giggled. “Maybe I should put on some white gym socks and my old school uniform.”
Rolling his eyes, Brian groaned. “You’ve tortured me enough with that fuckin’ thing. Get my shirt off. I’m hot.”
“Oooh, yes . . .” Reaching for the tails, Justin tugged just hard enough to get the buttons to open on their own, then he pushed the still crisp Tommy Hilfiger shirt off Brian’s shoulders. It went sailing over the edge of the bed like a wayward kite in a high wind.
Reaching over to the night table, Brian grabbed a condom and a packet of lube, then he grabbed Justin’s hips to pull him forward. The action made him remember his dream so clearly that he froze for a moment. That cold skin . . . those dark eyes . . . that hard, urgent cock. Angel’s image was so palpable for an instant, it made Brian shiver.
“What’s wrong?” Justin said, his blue eyes narrowing slightly.
He shook his head to clear it, then drew the boy forward by his lean hips. “Nothing. I guess I’m still half asleep.”
“Well, wake up and smell the hottie,” the boy teased, reaching for the packet of lube pressed between his hip and Brian’s hand. “Maybe this’ll help,” he said and his handsome young face softened into a devilish smile.
Brian rested against the pillows and watched as Justin chewed off the end of the lube packet, then tilted back so his weight was on his feet and his left hand. He spread his knees wide and exposed the soft peachy curves of his ass cheeks. Brian wet his index finger in his mouth and touched it to the boy’s delicate pink anus, making a slow circle around the hot wrinkled flesh. Again, Justin moaned.
“Come on,” he said to Brian. “Move your hand.”
Brian did as he was told, smiling as his young companion brought the open packet of lube down below his rounded testicles. He gave the packet a little squeeze and the clear liquid seeped out in a long transparent bead. Brian held his breath as he watched the fluid make contact with the boy’s rosebud. He couldn’t resist using his finger again to smear the lubricant around the tender, willing opening.
He grinned at his young lover appreciatively. “Such a bad little boy.”
“I’m constantly surrounded by bad influences,” Justin replied with mock innocence. “My behavior just can’t be helped.” He giggled again, then shifted backward so he could get hold of Brian’s cock. He took the condom out of its packet, then quickly slid it on Brian’s tense engorged erection. The contact made him tremble with lust and he sat up to kiss Justin’s perfect mouth. Since the boy was still on top, Brian grabbed his narrow hips again and hauled him back into position.
Justin shifted his weight to his knees and then tilted his hips forward in Brian’s grasp, allowing him to guide the penetration. In a moment, they were connected and they both groaned from deep in their chests. They’d been doing that a lot lately. In fact, every time they had sex. It was like they were finally getting a drink after an unending walk through the desert.
Justin held on to Brian’s shoulders and used his thighs for leverage as he rode his lover’s cock. Brian sighed and kissed the blond’s smooth, sweaty chest, lapping the drops of perspiration gathering around his nipples. God, the boy was delicious. Like rain on a hot summer day.
They kissed as their speed increased—kissed harder and harder until the kisses evolved into lip gnawing and tongue sucking. Right before he came, Brian thought he tasted blood in his mouth and then he was shooting and everything went bright and blank in his head. He held Justin tight, stroking his body, feeling the boy shudder and gasp as another orgasm tore through him. Vaguely Brian envied his youth and the endless supply of come that went with it. That thought didn’t last long, though. Before he knew it, they were both on their backs on the bed, panting for breath.
“God,” Justin gasped. He looked over at Brian and grinned. “I love fucking you.”
Laughing, Brian rolled toward his young lover again. “I’ve noticed that.” Kissing Justin’s sweet mouth, he murmured softly. “Whatever keeps you coming back.”
For a moment, the boy just looked at him—his expression indicating he had something specific to say in response. But, then he just smiled and moved in for another kiss. Brian let out a small sigh of relief. One of the best things about having Justin back was that they’d both grown so much during their separation. Gone was the wide-eyed schoolboy who would suffer any sort of humiliation just to be in Brian’s orbit. In his place, was this beautiful, sensual and brilliant young man who saw Brian with clear eyes—and still managed to love him.
As they kissed each other through the last zinging tingles of afterglow, they ended up face to face on the bed. Justin watched him keenly for a moment before he said anything, almost as though he were trying to read Brian’s thoughts.
“Do you remember your dream?”
Brian nodded, then shook his head. “Remind me to never watch monster shows before I go to sleep.”
Laughing, Justin snuggled up against Brian’s body. “Awww,” he cooed. “Did the scary vampire give you nightmares?”
“The nightmare part was that I almost fucked him.” He shivered at the still vivid memory.
Justin’s brow creased. “You said you thought he was hot. Not so in your dream?”
“He was the exact opposite of hot. His skin was like . . .” Another shiver passed through him, making his nipples tighten. “It felt like . . . I don’t know. It creeped me out.”
“Okay,” the boy said. “So, I guess my idea about Rage and Zephyr finding a hot vampire vigilante in Gayopolis isn’t going to ring your bell?”
Brian simply said “no.”
Justin laughed softly. “Fine. I’ll give Daph her DVD’s back.”
Brian ran his fingers through the blond’s silky, floppy hair, thoughtfully. “Well, I guess if I don’t think about too hard . . . I mean, that actor IS really hot. Maybe Rage and Zephyr could go to Hollywood and meet up with him . . . maybe rescue him from some wicked director who’s trying to make him do an action movie with the Teletubbies or something. That would be funny, wouldn’t it? Something different from your normal comic book fare.”
Reaching down, Justin drew the silky comforter up over their bodies and snuggled in close. “Go to sleep, Brian,” he said. “You’re scaring me.”
Chuckling, Brian reached over and turned off the light, trying to shut out the persistent memory of that cold hand over his heart.
end
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