fic
Done. Thank you for the lovely feedback during the course of this fic. Thank you also to the people who chose to share their personal stories with me regarding the circumstances discussed here. I am both humbled and touched.
I said it with each chapter, but I cannot convey how much help
juteux, burnitbackwards, and susanderavish were for me while I wrote this. It would not have come close to how I envisioned it without their constant assistance.
Divergence
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I ... I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.
Justin turns twenty-six and three months on a Thursday.
There’s no one to lay in bed with, so he gets up before nine and goes through the motions of straightening the apartment, ignoring the clean dishes in the dishwasher because he just doesn’t feel like putting them away.
Heavy, threatening clouds tell him it’s a perfect day for the beach, so he goes.
Early spring is still too chilly for locals and too soon for tourists; the only people he sees are the occasional surfer or weird guy with headphones and a metal detector. They all ignore each other.
The marine layer hangs around for most of the day and the sky looks like slate. Justin likes it. He thinks maybe he’s kind of weird for liking the overcast days better than the bright, sunny ones, but. Things aren’t really the same as they used to be.
He scans the empty horizon and then the soft shore under his bare feet, looking for a flat shell. He finds one peeking out from its blanket of sand and retrieves it, brushing it against his khakis and rubbing his fingers across its smooth surface. With one quick jerk, he heaves it into the ocean and watches it skip three times before sinking, and feels satisfied.
The rain starts as he’s leaving, so he sits in his car for a while to see it make splatters on his windshield. He leans forward and looks up to the left, scanning the cliff for the house. It sits right on the edge, all glass windows and clean white stucco, and Justin wishes he could sit in the living room of that house one day and watch the rain fall on the ocean. He figures most people would want to watch the sunset, but he’d rather see the storm.
* * *
He goes to the small Whole Foods market on the way home to find something for dinner and the cashier smiles at him. Justin remembers her from the times he and Brian shopped together.
“Alone today?” she asks, and rings up his peaches. Justin absently hopes they’re good, it’s kind of early for them.
“Oh,” he says when she repeats her question. “Yeah.”
“Some days are like that,” she sighs, and hands him his change.
“Yep,” Justin replies. “Some days are.”
He ducks back out into the rain and crosses the street to his car, cradling his groceries close to his chest and wishing for his jacket.
Home is quiet and still, the rain beating a steady staccato on the windows, and Justin sort of wishes they had originally gotten a top unit instead of a bottom so he could hear the rain on the roof too. But things are how they are.
Dinner is spaghetti with pesto sauce and sliced peaches for dessert, which turn out to be surprisingly sweet despite it not quite being their season. Justin puts away his leftovers for tomorrow and reminds himself to re-learn how to do a better job of cooking for one instead of two.
He draws for a while, trying to remember how the house on the cliff looked in the rain, and then tries a sketch of what he thinks the ocean would look like through the house’s vast living room window. He thinks he might have come close.
The rain still falls and Justin goes about his evening routine like usual, moving about in the empty space as if he’s always been alone. He answers email, watches tv, goes to the freezer and takes four spoonfuls of raspberry sorbet. Thinks briefly about going out; he hasn’t been to Motherlode for a while. Then he remembers he doesn’t really do that anymore, and decides instead that it’s bedtime.
Justin crawls naked in between crisp sheets and listens to the rain on the window.
* * *
He feels the warmth before he hears the whisper. “You didn’t leave the front light on, you little shit.”
Justin lifts his head from the pillow, looks back over his shoulder. “Brian,” he murmurs, and turns to envelope him in a fierce hug. “You’re supposed to be home tomorrow,” he says into Brian’s neck.
“Finished by six. Got on a flight at eight. I nearly killed myself on your portfolio by the front door, you know.” Brian rests his forehead against Justin’s and closes his eyes.
“Hungry? There’s spaghetti. I made too much again.”
“Ugh, no. Too tired to eat.” Brian heaves a sigh.
“You shouldn’t have gone,” Justin scolds. “Now you’re exhausted.”
“I couldn’t let Theodore do it alone for this one. His voice still cracks when he gets nervous. God. I’ll probably have to go back and sign the deal, too. Shit.”
“But you didn’t have to come back tonight! You should have at least waited till morning. The doctor said ‘modified activity’.” Justin sifts his fingers through the soft hair at Brian’s nape.
“Yeah, but I’m out of Pittsburgh,” Brian shrugs. “That makes it all worth it.”
“I don’t think so. I think you missed me.”
“I missed your cock,” Brian replies, and reaches down to cup it.
“No. You missed me. You missed me,” Justin taunts softly. “Didn’t you.”
“I’m home, aren’t I?” Brian looks half-digusted, half-pleased.
“Yeah.” Justin cups Brian’s face in his hands, studying him in the dark. “You are.”
“So show me some fucking appreciation.”
Justin puts the invitation to good use. Sliding out from under Brian’s weight, he pushes him to the bed and rids him of his pants. Brian lies loose and compliant, his head tilted to watch, eyelashes nearly touching his cheeks.
He nuzzles Brian’s cock with his nose, his forehead, his chin. Breathes in the life and warmth, tastes it with his tongue, relishes Brian’s indrawn breath and fingers tangling in Justin’s hair. Lowers his mouth and samples the soft head, tongue teasing Brian’s slit and making the hand on his head clutch at him.
Justin could keep at it all night because he loves it; he loves the smell and touch and taste of it, and only because it’s Brian’s. But Brian starts thrusting his hips and biting back hard, gutteral groans, and Justin is too lost in the heady knowledge that he always knows how to make Brian come, until finally Brian says his name in a harsh whisper. Justin pauses in his ministrations and looks up.
Brian crooks a finger, motioning to him, so Justin crawls back up to see Brian holding the condom from the nightstand drawer. “Thought you were tired,” he grins, and Brian rolls his eyes.
“I am. So put it on and do what you do.” Brian manages to sound bored even though Justin can see his cock straining against his stomach.
“You’re so easy,” Justin chuckles. “A little bit of head and you let me do whatever I want.”
“I’m about to rescind my offer.”
“Just turn over.”
Brian turns to his side, legs separated, and Justin uses lubricant liberally on both of them. Brian looks back over his shoulder and brings Justin’s head down for a sharp, clean kiss right at the moment of entry. Justin almost comes right there at that second, and Brian smiles against Justin’s mouth because he knows it.
“Bastard,” Justin whispers, and jerks forward to hit Brian’s sweet spot.
Brian breathes in. “Don’t call me names when I’m letting you fuck me.”
“You’re not letting me. You’re enjoying me. You should know the difference by now.” He puts his mouth on Brian’s shoulder and nips at him hard enough to leave teeth marks.
“Whatever. Just do the job.” Brian reaches behind him and captures Justin’s hand, bringing it over to secure it around his cock.
Justin holds him, weighs him, brushes his thumb over the tip and milks a clear drop of pre-come, then does it again. One more time after that, not moving. And once more, until Brian clamps down on him with the hand not gripping the sheets and says, “Justin, Christ.”
“I’m doing the job.”
“Do it faster,” Brian grits out, and pushes back.
So Justin moves, feeling Brian stretch and contract around him, already forgetting the loneliness of the past three days. Long strokes out, short ones in, until both of them are writhing together and the sheets are damp beneath them. Justin hooks an ankle around Brian’s calf, drawing him closer, and Brian slams a hand down on Justin’s thigh and squeezes.
He wants to say Brian’s name but can’t do anything except lay his mouth against Brian’s neck, tasting his sweat and concentrating on the pleasure starting to radiate in waves. Justin hopes distantly that Brian’s close to coming because he just can’t hold it off any more, it’s been three days and a lifetime and Brian will always make him feel like this.
And then it doesn’t matter, because his ears are buzzing and his breath is coming in short pants, and Brian throws his head back and hisses Justin’s name as he comes over their hands. One more short, sharp thrust and Justin is whimpering and rolling his bottom lip under his teeth and coming forever.
He pries his heavy eyes open after several silent minutes and feels Brian’s heavy, deep breaths against his chest. Justin tries to pull out slowly, without waking him, but Brian feels the loss and shifts sleepily.
Justin discards the condom and brushes a kiss against Brian’s forehead. “Sorry. Go back to sleep.”
“You don’t want to go again?”
Justin snorts and settles into him, putting a hand on Brian’s chest to feel the sure, steady beat of his heart. “It might kill you. You’re still recovering.”
“A little twink like you? Doubtful.” But Justin doesn’t have to look up to see the smile.
A random thought occurs to him, and even though he’s tired, even though he knows Brian’s worn out from traveling, he wants to say it. “Hey,” he says, raising his head and touching Brian’s cheek.
“Hmm.”
“I don’t like it when you’re gone.” It sounds childish and silly, but Justin can’t figure out any other way to make it sound better.
Brian glances downward. “I know.”
“It’s the alone thing,” he explains, and thinks Brian probably won’t get it.
But he does. “I know, Justin.”
“Um. Okay. You promised before … um, before you were better? … that I wouldn’t be alone,” he says in a rush, and squeezes Brian’s hand tightly.
“I know I did,” Brian answers, and his voice is warm and smooth in the darkness. “You won’t be.”
Justin believes him.
~End
I said it with each chapter, but I cannot convey how much help
juteux, burnitbackwards, and susanderavish were for me while I wrote this. It would not have come close to how I envisioned it without their constant assistance.Divergence
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I ... I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.
Justin turns twenty-six and three months on a Thursday.
There’s no one to lay in bed with, so he gets up before nine and goes through the motions of straightening the apartment, ignoring the clean dishes in the dishwasher because he just doesn’t feel like putting them away.
Heavy, threatening clouds tell him it’s a perfect day for the beach, so he goes.
Early spring is still too chilly for locals and too soon for tourists; the only people he sees are the occasional surfer or weird guy with headphones and a metal detector. They all ignore each other.
The marine layer hangs around for most of the day and the sky looks like slate. Justin likes it. He thinks maybe he’s kind of weird for liking the overcast days better than the bright, sunny ones, but. Things aren’t really the same as they used to be.
He scans the empty horizon and then the soft shore under his bare feet, looking for a flat shell. He finds one peeking out from its blanket of sand and retrieves it, brushing it against his khakis and rubbing his fingers across its smooth surface. With one quick jerk, he heaves it into the ocean and watches it skip three times before sinking, and feels satisfied.
The rain starts as he’s leaving, so he sits in his car for a while to see it make splatters on his windshield. He leans forward and looks up to the left, scanning the cliff for the house. It sits right on the edge, all glass windows and clean white stucco, and Justin wishes he could sit in the living room of that house one day and watch the rain fall on the ocean. He figures most people would want to watch the sunset, but he’d rather see the storm.
* * *
He goes to the small Whole Foods market on the way home to find something for dinner and the cashier smiles at him. Justin remembers her from the times he and Brian shopped together.
“Alone today?” she asks, and rings up his peaches. Justin absently hopes they’re good, it’s kind of early for them.
“Oh,” he says when she repeats her question. “Yeah.”
“Some days are like that,” she sighs, and hands him his change.
“Yep,” Justin replies. “Some days are.”
He ducks back out into the rain and crosses the street to his car, cradling his groceries close to his chest and wishing for his jacket.
Home is quiet and still, the rain beating a steady staccato on the windows, and Justin sort of wishes they had originally gotten a top unit instead of a bottom so he could hear the rain on the roof too. But things are how they are.
Dinner is spaghetti with pesto sauce and sliced peaches for dessert, which turn out to be surprisingly sweet despite it not quite being their season. Justin puts away his leftovers for tomorrow and reminds himself to re-learn how to do a better job of cooking for one instead of two.
He draws for a while, trying to remember how the house on the cliff looked in the rain, and then tries a sketch of what he thinks the ocean would look like through the house’s vast living room window. He thinks he might have come close.
The rain still falls and Justin goes about his evening routine like usual, moving about in the empty space as if he’s always been alone. He answers email, watches tv, goes to the freezer and takes four spoonfuls of raspberry sorbet. Thinks briefly about going out; he hasn’t been to Motherlode for a while. Then he remembers he doesn’t really do that anymore, and decides instead that it’s bedtime.
Justin crawls naked in between crisp sheets and listens to the rain on the window.
* * *
He feels the warmth before he hears the whisper. “You didn’t leave the front light on, you little shit.”
Justin lifts his head from the pillow, looks back over his shoulder. “Brian,” he murmurs, and turns to envelope him in a fierce hug. “You’re supposed to be home tomorrow,” he says into Brian’s neck.
“Finished by six. Got on a flight at eight. I nearly killed myself on your portfolio by the front door, you know.” Brian rests his forehead against Justin’s and closes his eyes.
“Hungry? There’s spaghetti. I made too much again.”
“Ugh, no. Too tired to eat.” Brian heaves a sigh.
“You shouldn’t have gone,” Justin scolds. “Now you’re exhausted.”
“I couldn’t let Theodore do it alone for this one. His voice still cracks when he gets nervous. God. I’ll probably have to go back and sign the deal, too. Shit.”
“But you didn’t have to come back tonight! You should have at least waited till morning. The doctor said ‘modified activity’.” Justin sifts his fingers through the soft hair at Brian’s nape.
“Yeah, but I’m out of Pittsburgh,” Brian shrugs. “That makes it all worth it.”
“I don’t think so. I think you missed me.”
“I missed your cock,” Brian replies, and reaches down to cup it.
“No. You missed me. You missed me,” Justin taunts softly. “Didn’t you.”
“I’m home, aren’t I?” Brian looks half-digusted, half-pleased.
“Yeah.” Justin cups Brian’s face in his hands, studying him in the dark. “You are.”
“So show me some fucking appreciation.”
Justin puts the invitation to good use. Sliding out from under Brian’s weight, he pushes him to the bed and rids him of his pants. Brian lies loose and compliant, his head tilted to watch, eyelashes nearly touching his cheeks.
He nuzzles Brian’s cock with his nose, his forehead, his chin. Breathes in the life and warmth, tastes it with his tongue, relishes Brian’s indrawn breath and fingers tangling in Justin’s hair. Lowers his mouth and samples the soft head, tongue teasing Brian’s slit and making the hand on his head clutch at him.
Justin could keep at it all night because he loves it; he loves the smell and touch and taste of it, and only because it’s Brian’s. But Brian starts thrusting his hips and biting back hard, gutteral groans, and Justin is too lost in the heady knowledge that he always knows how to make Brian come, until finally Brian says his name in a harsh whisper. Justin pauses in his ministrations and looks up.
Brian crooks a finger, motioning to him, so Justin crawls back up to see Brian holding the condom from the nightstand drawer. “Thought you were tired,” he grins, and Brian rolls his eyes.
“I am. So put it on and do what you do.” Brian manages to sound bored even though Justin can see his cock straining against his stomach.
“You’re so easy,” Justin chuckles. “A little bit of head and you let me do whatever I want.”
“I’m about to rescind my offer.”
“Just turn over.”
Brian turns to his side, legs separated, and Justin uses lubricant liberally on both of them. Brian looks back over his shoulder and brings Justin’s head down for a sharp, clean kiss right at the moment of entry. Justin almost comes right there at that second, and Brian smiles against Justin’s mouth because he knows it.
“Bastard,” Justin whispers, and jerks forward to hit Brian’s sweet spot.
Brian breathes in. “Don’t call me names when I’m letting you fuck me.”
“You’re not letting me. You’re enjoying me. You should know the difference by now.” He puts his mouth on Brian’s shoulder and nips at him hard enough to leave teeth marks.
“Whatever. Just do the job.” Brian reaches behind him and captures Justin’s hand, bringing it over to secure it around his cock.
Justin holds him, weighs him, brushes his thumb over the tip and milks a clear drop of pre-come, then does it again. One more time after that, not moving. And once more, until Brian clamps down on him with the hand not gripping the sheets and says, “Justin, Christ.”
“I’m doing the job.”
“Do it faster,” Brian grits out, and pushes back.
So Justin moves, feeling Brian stretch and contract around him, already forgetting the loneliness of the past three days. Long strokes out, short ones in, until both of them are writhing together and the sheets are damp beneath them. Justin hooks an ankle around Brian’s calf, drawing him closer, and Brian slams a hand down on Justin’s thigh and squeezes.
He wants to say Brian’s name but can’t do anything except lay his mouth against Brian’s neck, tasting his sweat and concentrating on the pleasure starting to radiate in waves. Justin hopes distantly that Brian’s close to coming because he just can’t hold it off any more, it’s been three days and a lifetime and Brian will always make him feel like this.
And then it doesn’t matter, because his ears are buzzing and his breath is coming in short pants, and Brian throws his head back and hisses Justin’s name as he comes over their hands. One more short, sharp thrust and Justin is whimpering and rolling his bottom lip under his teeth and coming forever.
He pries his heavy eyes open after several silent minutes and feels Brian’s heavy, deep breaths against his chest. Justin tries to pull out slowly, without waking him, but Brian feels the loss and shifts sleepily.
Justin discards the condom and brushes a kiss against Brian’s forehead. “Sorry. Go back to sleep.”
“You don’t want to go again?”
Justin snorts and settles into him, putting a hand on Brian’s chest to feel the sure, steady beat of his heart. “It might kill you. You’re still recovering.”
“A little twink like you? Doubtful.” But Justin doesn’t have to look up to see the smile.
A random thought occurs to him, and even though he’s tired, even though he knows Brian’s worn out from traveling, he wants to say it. “Hey,” he says, raising his head and touching Brian’s cheek.
“Hmm.”
“I don’t like it when you’re gone.” It sounds childish and silly, but Justin can’t figure out any other way to make it sound better.
Brian glances downward. “I know.”
“It’s the alone thing,” he explains, and thinks Brian probably won’t get it.
But he does. “I know, Justin.”
“Um. Okay. You promised before … um, before you were better? … that I wouldn’t be alone,” he says in a rush, and squeezes Brian’s hand tightly.
“I know I did,” Brian answers, and his voice is warm and smooth in the darkness. “You won’t be.”
Justin believes him.
~End