Threshold


It's a wintry December morning when Justin's phone rings. It's Brian, he's in the city and on his way to Justin's Chelsea apartment.

Justin escorts his trick-du-jour to the door, empties the litter box, brushes his teeth twice and brews a fresh pot of coffee.

When he hears Brian on the stairs, he runs out to meet him in the hallway. Justin's bare feet are flecked with sage-green paint, and Brian still looks like a god.

They grin at each other, and Justin reaches out to brush snow off Brian's coat before pulling him firmly and surely across his threshold.



Inspiration


Brian woke to a familiar sound. Justin drawing rapidly by the window, afternoon sun slanting in, warming the red chalk and charcoal.

He watched the play of light on Justin’s arms, the ripple of his muscles, the sway and shift of his hips and shoulders. And when Justin paused and bowed his head, lifting the hair off his neck to cool the flesh there, Brian stood to accept the offering.

He crossed the worn wood floor and kissed the pale skin of Justin’s nape, kissed the fine gold down, kissed the sweet, sweet hollow at the base of his skull.



Redemption


They stand side-by-side, waiting, and when she finally appears, Tucker murmurs, “wow.”

“Yeah,” Justin agrees, the word catching in his throat as Jennifer steps into the light from a high church window.

They watch her walk down the aisle and Tucker breaks the spell by asking, “Have you decided on your best man yet?”

Justin’s gaze shifts to Brian in the front row - relaxed, elegant, eyes steady on his.

“Actually,” Justin tugs meaningfully on his snug cravat, “I’m thinking of returning the favor.”

“Tit for tat?”

“Something like that.” He flashes a smile then steps forward to embrace his mother.





And because equusentric asked, I wrote this companion piece for her.


Accomplice


"Where are they?” Jennifer hisses, craning to see past Tucker.

“They’ll be right out,” he replies smoothly and attempts to close the door.

“One of the drag queens is threatening to sing if it doesn’t start soon.” There’s a note of panic in her voice.

“Five minutes,” he says calmly.

“It’s already been fifty!” she snaps, slapping the wall by Tucker’s head.

When they casually take their places twenty minutes later, Jennifer’s mentally honing the tongue-lashing she plans to bestow, but then she sees the look on Justin’s face and forgets all about propriety and decorum and starts to cry.



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