It all started in my first figure drawing class at PIFA. It was the third day of class and it was all I could do not to scream at the slow pace of our projects. This was actually the first day we were going to actually get to draw, the first two days having been introduction days that meant we had to listen to the same drawing theory bullshit that we'd been hearing since beginning at the school. But that day we were going to get down and dirty and I couldn't wait.

"Today, we are fortunate to have mister Masters playing the part of our model. He's an upper level student, so you might have seen him floating around the painting studios day and night. I don't see why you don't just take up residence here to cut down on cost. Anyway...be nice, he's donating his time freely."

I only half-heartedly listened to Cecil, my drawing instructor, go on about what we were going to be doing. Gesture drawing. The necessary evil in all drawing classes. We would be making one line express an entire movement and where I can totally see the benefit of this in the long run, it's nothing I get off on, ya know?

While Cecil rambled on, I absently sorted through my box for the supplies I would need.

Brian says it's an eye-sore. The tackle box, that is. It's a massive olive green box that fishermen use to keep...fishing stuff in, but I'd jazzed it up with a few doodles and stickers, including one that says "I ‘heart' BK" that I made. Brian doesn't particularly care for that part either. He's been trying his hardest to get me to trash it and buy a nice big Art Bin. But...what the fuck are those but EXPENSIVE tackle boxes with the words "ART BIN" printed on them!

Anyway, when I finally had my drawing pad in place and a short vine of charcoal poised over the paper, ready to get going, I glanced up and nearly choked on the stick of cinnamon gum I'd been chewing on. The man standing before me, had to be one of the most beautiful men I have ever and will ever lay eyes upon in my life.

He was standing on top of the lower platform, about two, maybe three feet off the ground. Right at eye level. My eyes traveled from his strong lean form, moving up his tight jean-clad legs to his slightly concave stomach, barely covered by the tattered old red sweater he was wearing. His hair, dirty blonde and messy as hell, looked as though he had spent hours spiking the short strands only to rub his hands through it so that it flew in every direction.

He turned towards me, leaning casually against the pole that ran through the center of the platform and took in my blatant appraisal. He grinned slightly with one corner of his mouth and I was immediately captivated by the lip ring I saw glinting under the casting lights. Talk about sexy! But it was his fucking brilliant eyes that really stopped me in my tracks.

People say my eyes are beautiful. The color of the sky when I'm wearing the right shade of blue. But...this guy...I was just in awe. He had blue eyes, like my own, only his were crystal clear and pale blue that they all but blended in with the whites of his eyes.

When he smiled, the beautiful eyes squinted, and expressed so much more than his mouth ever could have. He looked comfortable and at ease in his entire existence and I so envied him his laid back attitude.

Overcome with a wave of inspiration, I stood up, moving away from my drawing board and standing beside it, let my hand fly effortlessly over the paper.

After a few minutes, Cecil noticed that my attentions are far from gestures. He stood over me, waiting for me to look up and recognize his presence, but my hand simply wouldn't stop and eventually he walked away, not even bothering to correct me. Or...maybe he did and I just couldn't hear him in my motivated state.

My eyes were riveted to the man in front of me as I watched him change positions every few minutes to give the rest of the class a variety of forms to draw from. I continued on, racking up at least twenty rough sketches of him in the span of two hours.

All the time that I was drawing him, I watched him play with the silver ring that protruded from his lower lip and wondered if it felt as good as my nipple ring does when Brian tugs on it. Each time he moved the ring with his tongue or teeth or just pushed it back and forth with his top lip, there's a distinct pull at my groin. I had this urge to feel that ring against my lips. Captured between my own teeth.

The visual of him and me together, writhing naked bodies on the pedestal in the middle of the class, was more than I could stand. It was the first time I had really wanted someone so badly since Brian and I had gotten back together a few months before.

When class was over, I began gathering my supplies. Taking my time with the job so that I might just happen to leave around the same time as our model, who was having a few words with Cecil.

"Hey," I said as we exited the room, falling into step with one another.

The guy grinned and gave me a sidelong glance that could have been flirtatious or simply curious. "Hey."

Oh! His voice! It was scratchy and strong and sexy - sooooo sexy! Fuck!

"Thanks for...modeling for us."

"No problem," he shrugged his shoulders and nodded towards my sketch pad, which I was carrying under my arm. "I noticed your sketches. You're good."

"Thank you," I said, blushing. The praise didn't affect me so much. When you've spent more years drawing than you can actually remember, chances are you've had your fair share of compliments. But this guy was damn good. I'd seen his paintings in the student gallery from time to time. So I knew he would give me a straight opinion rather than empty praise.

That's definitely one thing I've learned at PIFA. That art students are the most critical bastards on the face of the earth. In a good way of course. They aren't afraid to speak their mind and show their own brilliance but also, we all seem to have some sort of bullshit radar and quickly weed out those among us that aren't serious about art. Those people are usually coldly snubbed and greatly ignored by the general population. But if another student looks at your work and tells you something could be better or that it's amazing, then you know you've done something right.

I digress...

We stood quietly in the elevator as it descended, both of us sneaking furtive glances at each other. Oddly, I realized that I usually would have had him backed up against the wall, pressed the emergency stop and had my way with him right then and there. I mean, Brian and I hadn't discussed any "RULES" so I figured he wasn't off limits. But something stopped me and I settled for a simple introduction. "I'm Justin Taylor, by the way."

"Glad to meet you, Justin Taylor by the way."

I laugh, though I know it wasn't all that funny. Isn't it funny the things you do when you're blinded by lust?

"I'm Brit."

"Brit?" I had to really work to hold back my laughter. And I thought Abraham was a shit name for a kid to be stuck with.

"Yeah....my mom is English. When she had me, my dad said I looked just like her. He said ‘oh great! Another Brit! Kinda stuck."

I did laugh at him then, actually enjoying his exuberant story telling. "So...Brit Masters...it was really...nice to meet you," I said as we reached the parking lot.

Brit turned and began backing slowly towards what I could only presume was his car. "So, Justin Taylor-by-the-way... I'll see ya around."

I gave him a big smile. "Definitely."

***

My entire shift at the diner was spent thinking about Brit. My fingers were literally itching to draw him again. During one lull, I did a few rough sketches on a napkin and stuffed it into my back pocket to use later. Deb just grinned at me, proud that their little artist was always ‘at it'.

When I got home, I completely ignored Brian, who was seated at his desk, staring at me. I was completely focused as I grabbed a sketch pad from a stack of five that I kept around for just these instances and settled at the bar to work.

I flipped through the book, past about twenty or so sketches of Brian in various poses, to find a clean sheet. Immediately, I started sketching his face from memory. Then his body. Then his hands, including the tattoo of a spiral on his wrist. After I had two complete sketches, I looked up to see Brian staring at me with amusement lighting his eyes. "The urge to draw my cock must be truly overpowering."

I looked down at my sketch and quickly flip to a clean page and smile, not giving a thing away. I don't know why I didn't just tell him. I guess I could say that I didn't want to hurt his feelings. But it was more about keeping the experience to myself.

Later, after completing a few more sketches and having totally blown off my homework for the night, I had buried my head in my arms and fell asleep. I remember Brian trying to wake me, but I kept falling back under each time he stopped speaking. Finally he picked me up and carried me to bed.

***

"Top or bottom," the guy managed to mumble between kisses.

His hot mouth was devouring mine and I whimpered, amazed at the skill he possessed. I had never imagined that someone could equal, much less surpass Brian in kissing. The lip ring also added an extra level of amazing. I broke away for a moment and grinned at him. "Whatever's good for you."

"Hmm...versatile? I like that," Brit growled in my ear, causing me to shiver with excitement.

"We have to hurry though. My boyfriend will be home any minute."

"He doesn't know about me?"

"Are you insane? Of course not. Brian wouldn't understand."

Brit nodded, sure that he did understand. "The jealous type?"

I laughed. "Not exactly."

"Well...by the time I'm through," Brit's fingers trailed down my spine and I bit my lip to keep from urging him on and sounding like some virginal nympho, "you'll have forgotten that you even HAVE a boyfriend."

I moaned, not because I agreed with him, but because his fingers were now inside of me and he was evoking more sensation with the two digits that I had never thought possible.

"Oh...Brit..."

"Brit? Who the hell is Brit?"

My eyes shot open to look up at Brian, who's face was now hovering over my own. "What?" I ask him, trying not to sound too guilty. But that dream....fuck me but it felt real!

"Brit. You were moaning ‘BRIT'. Please tell me you aren't having hetero-erotic dreams. I mean...they say everyone entertains the idea at some point, but..."

I laughed and pushed him onto his back, taking the opportunity to roll over and straddle him. "You think you're so funny don't you?" I was met with his usual smirk and without even a hint of remorse, I went straight for his secret tickle spots.

"That's...so...not funny! ...Justin...st-s...stop!" he managed to spit out between fits of giggles.

Usually I would have gone for the ‘take back what you said' approach. But I knew that would only remind him of what started the whole thing and then I would be faced with the inevitable question of ‘who is Brit?'. So instead, I did what any smart gay man that was dating and/or living with Brian Kinney would do. I played the sex card.

"I'll stop...If you give me a good reason."

I, of course, ended up flat on my back, a very enthusiastic lover above me.

So I had dodged the first bullet and convinced myself that the beautiful model was out of my mind. There was no more reason to think about him. Only...he did start showing up more and more in my drawings. I would add his chin, his eyes, his hairline where once I would have used Brian's. But after a few more dreams, he all but faded from my mind and I figured it was no big deal.

And then came Twinkie Tuesday at Babylon. It was a new promotional thing the club was doing to get more young blood into the scene. It also got more old blood, what with the chicken hawks skulking around, looking for a young chicken to call their own. But that was neither here nor there.

Brian had declared that morning in the diner that he would boycott the whole affair. What good was a club full of little boys when he had his own child at home? Why would he want to add another underage hanger on? He kissed me gently to take the sting out of the remark, but I'm used to him saying shit like that. I didn't care.

Still, as they tend to do, the guys latched onto Brian's comment and refused to let go. "Funny, how when you get old, you find it harder to be around those youngsters," Emmett teased.

"Yeah. All that loud music. And their outrageous taste in clothes. And that slang that changes every five minutes," Michael added.

"And no respect for the older generations. Who needs that?" Ted said, making sure to get his own jab in. "You're going though, right Justin? You can translate for him."

"Fuck off," I laughed, trying to stick up for my man without causing a fight within the ranks.

But Brian just sat there, a pensive look clouding his features. What freaked me out more was that he remained relatively quiet up until he dropped me off at school.

"See you tonight," he said, giving me a quick kiss on my temple and all but pushing me out of the corvette.

***

Babylon was packed. Wall-to-wall twinkies. It was like a carpet of fair-haired boys. A shag carpet, if you will. And I actually felt completely out of place.

I guess that's normal though, after spending years hanging out with a group of thirty-somethings.

Brian had yet to arrive, though I wasn't sure he really would, and I was broke so I had to settle on dancing instead of drinking. And...wouldn't you have guessed it? Who would be there but Brit Masters, shaking his fine ass in the middle of the dance floor.

I didn't see that he was necessarily dancing with anyone and I was playing with the idea of getting his attention, when he opened his eyes and saw me. His grin could have lit the place as he grabbed my hand and pulled me to him.

For the better part of an hour, he and I danced and laughed, occasionally pulling Ben, Michael and Emmett onto the floor with us, Ted having made it his mission to single-handedly hold up the wall.

Still laughing, we found our way back to the bar, hoping to catch our breaths. Brit was just about to buy me a drink when I felt the strong arms of my lover snake around my waist. "Hey," he murmured against the skin behind my ear. I grinned, a bit uneasily I guess, but turned my head to kiss him.

"Hey. Thought you were boycotting."

"Yeah well...I figured if I can put up with you, then this bunch shouldn't be a problem," he said, scanning the crowd. "At least I don't have to feed them."

I elbow him playfully, but cover his arms, which are still wrapped around me, with my own. "Who's this?" Brian asks rudely, when he finally notices the other presence beside us.

Maybe, I mused, Brian would have forgotten about the whole Brit incident. But then, when has my luck ever been THAT good?

"Brian...this is Brit Masters. He goes to PIFA."

He didn't say anything, but I could already see the recognition in Brian's eyes. "Oh yeah?" Brit went to shake his hand but Brian ignored the overture. "Always...interesting to meet Justin's school chums."

"So I take it you're Justin's...?"

"Partner," Brian said firmly but quietly.

I looked back at Brian in shock. Not that I was going to argue or anything, but up until that moment, neither of us had bothered defining what we really were this time around. Apparently I was wrong. Brian was defining all over the place.

"So. What are you into...Brit?"

"Excuse me?" Brit asked, unsure of what was being asked.

"What are you majoring in?" Brian clarified.

With a rueful smile I answered for him. "Brit's a painter."

"Ahhhh...a painter." I could see Brian's brain already in overdrive. Trying to work out a way that we might know one another. Especially since I had yet to have a painting class and for the most part, students didn't stray far from their own concentration.

To avoid the questions that I knew Brian wanted to ask but wouldn't allow himself to, I ventured an explanation. "Brit...modeled for my drawing class."

I saw an eyebrow go up in interest. "Model huh? Nude, perhaps?"

"No. We aren't doing nudes. Yet," I added, giving Brit a small smile.

***

It all started with Justin's little "dream".

One minute I was counting down the time until I had to be up for work, enjoying the peace of the loft first thing in the morning, the next minute, what should I hear but Justin moaning. I, of course, was instantly hard. I'm so in tune with the little fucker now that I get hard just hearing him breath a little heavier than usual.

He takes the stairs instead of opting for the elevator and boom - instant hard-on for me. It's like being fuckin sixteen again.

So of course I automatically assume he's about to wake up and jump me anyway. Why not just get a little head start? As soon as I started working my way towards his luscious ass, I hear another moan. Only this one had form and purpose. It was his special ‘fuck me' moan, with a name attached. A name that wasn't mine.

Now...call me narcissistic but if a man is in bed with ME, it's just not feasible that they would call out anyone's name but mine. Especially if said man is my...boyfriend!

"Brit," he called out.

"Brit? Who the hell is Brit?" I had asked. Somehow we ended up getting completely off the subject of his dream lover and I pretty much forgot about the whole thing. Well...not FORGOT. But I let it go. I'm not such an ass that I'll tell Justin not to dream of anyone else. That's just nuts. Plus it would have seemed like I was jealous and I don't DO jealous. So... ‘Brit' was pushed to the back of my brain and life went on.

Little did I know what would come of hearing that...I must say, completely ridiculous name.

A few weeks later, Babylon was doing some lame promo stunt - Toddler Tuesday or something. So I figured I might avoid that whole scene. Why would I want to be subjected to a club full of little fags-in-training? I have one at home and he more than fills my twink quota. But somehow...don't ask me how...I ended up at Babylon.

The first thing I see is Emmett and Mikey laughing over something like the couple of kids that they can be. If any of us fit in with that crowd, it would be them. Even more so than Justin.

Bypassing my friends, even as they try to get my attention, I scanned the crowd for my lover. Just as I was about to make my way through the crowd, I noticed him tumble out of the massive body of dancers, laughing and following another man.

The guy was just a little taller than Justin, and his body was a little more filled out. He wasn't a gym junkie, but you could tell he wasn't completely ignorant of the fact that weights existed. Beyond that...besides the fact that even I had to admit he was gorgeous as hell, I still didn't see anything overly spectacular about Justin's companion. Though I must say, I was curious as to whom the mystery man was.

"Brian...this is Brit Masters."

Never have words echoed in my head before that moment. I mean, spiteful words from my old man? They get replayed in my mind a lot like an old record. Words said in the heat of the moment from my friends and family, they usually just go in one ear and out the other. But this...fuckin bounced around my head as if I held the Grand Canyon between my ears.

Brit Masters. Go fuckin figure. The dream lover was real after all.

I think I handled my reaction fairly well, considering. So he was a painter, attending PIFA. Nifty. So he was a model for Justin's drawing class. Swell.

And then came the nudity discussion. Which was my fault, I guess. I did start it.

"Model huh? Nude, perhaps?" The words left my mouth and I cursed, wanting to recall them. Brit...well he isn't difficult to look at. Not by a long shot. He's no me, but still...

"No, we aren't doing nudes. " Justin says evenly, giving me temporary relief. "Yet."

I so wanted to smack Justin in the head for that smarmy little ‘yet'. I just plain wanted to kick Brit's ass for his undercover leer that he passed off as a tight-lipped smile. But I rolled my eyes at the thoughts, recognizing the signs of jealousy when I saw them and recovered, "Well I didn't think you were going to be drawing fruit in a figure drawing class," I recovered,

Justin stuck his tongue out at me and I leaned down, touching his tongue briefly with mine, before moving in even closer and devouring his lips. I glanced at Brit out of the corner of my eye and noted that he had looked away. So either he was jealous, completely uninterested, or uncomfortable. None of which will earn points with me in even the best of circumstances. Though, I will admit to provoking that reaction on purpose. I didn't WANT to like this guy.

After Brit said farewell, I ended up dragging Justin out of there. Nothing new. At least every other night that we're at Babylon, one of us will feel the need and we'll end up nearly fucking on top of the car in our impatience to get to the loft. That night, we just made it through the door in the nick of time, before we had clothes scattered all over the floor and mouths roaming EVERYwhere.

I thought for a moment, somewhere between bending Justin backwards over the sofa and being trapped between the blonde vacuum and the steel beam next to my desk, that I might just have to give in and let him fuck me. He seemed even more enthusiastic than usual. Aggressive where he was usually very playful and passive. We had finally made it to the bed and I was about to hand him a condom when he looked down from where he was straddling my waist and said those three little words. Music to my ears. "Fuck me, Brian." Hell yeah.

I rolled over, placing myself on top and I'm sure I set some sort of speed record getting the condom on and lubing us both up. I paused though, the head of my dick resting against his tight hole. Don't ask why, I just had to do it. I swooped down and attacked his neck. Biting and sucking until he looked like he was breaking out into a rash. Call it a misguided attempt to mark my territory, if you will.

And then - ugh, I cringe to even recall it - I actually looked straight into his eyes and asked, "What's my name?"

I know. I know! I guess deep down, I really am human and even I, the great Brian Kinney, can feel insecure.

Luckily, Justin seemed turned on by the whole thing. I'm actually surprised he didn't launch into his "American Pie" imitations. All I fucking heard after he saw that movie was ‘say my name, bitch'. It became a catch phrase for a while. I didn't care for it then, so why was I having my own little "American Pie" moment?

I can tell you why. It's because the little fucker was not about to use his hard-on from dancing with Briiiiit on ME! I wasn't about to stand for hearing the painter's name in my bed again.

Justin finally managed to whimper out a pathetic whisper that sounded like my name. It wasn't enough. "Say it," I insisted, fueled by the bright gleam of lust in his eyes.

"Brian." His voice came out more level than the first time. Still wasn't enough.

"Louder," I breathed against his pursed lips.

"Brian!" He yelped, as I began putting pressure on his hole, just giving him half an inch or so. I could see the strain and tension in his body. He was holding back with everything he had. I know him so well, especially in bed. And at that point he would have had my name tattooed on his forehead if it would have meant me giving him what he wanted; my hard cock buried in that ever so tight ass of his.

"I wanna hear you scream it. I want the fucking CITY to hear you screaming my name, Justin."

He pulled his bottom lip through his teeth and his eyes flashed primally letting me know that he heard and understood. "Fuck ME!" he screamed, louder than I'd ever heard him. I knew that the neighbors would definitely have something to say about this at the next tenant's meeting, but fuck em.

As I made quick work of pounding Justin's beautiful ass, I thought my hearing might be permanently damaged as he did as I had requested. Anyone within a two mile radius had to have been wondering who the hell Brian was and what he could have possibly been doing to the poor person screaming his name. I'm serious when I say that the fact that the police never showed up was a complete shock.

When it was all over and we were both doing the whole domestic, tug of war over the sink and toilet, nighttime routine, Justin couldn't keep the smile off of his face. He just...kept grinning.

"What the fuck are you smiling about?" I asked, finding the smile to be highly vexing.

Justin shrugged. "Guess I've just been well-fucked."

"Hmm," was all I would allow as I watched him brush his teeth beside me.

"Why? Goh a probwm wih dat?" he asked playfully around his toothbrush.

I rolled my eyes and turned to piss.

I can't really say what brought the thought into my head. I mean, I know Justin wouldn't play me like that. I know that. Because we've been there with E-than. He knows that won't work. But all I could think was that somehow he had used the entire scene with Brit to get a good fuck out of me.

I could just see him behind me, looking so fucking self-satisfied. I felt like a fool for falling into his trap. The fact that I really didn't believe he would have done anything like that, never really even registered. I was flying high on my resentment.

Of course, you're insane if you think I actually mentioned these thoughts to HIM. Oh no. I let it all build up inside, just as I always had and eventually I just snapped. Just as I always had.

"Is it perhaps in your range of capabilities to actually put the cap back on the toothpaste for once?"

Justin looked up at me as if I had lost my mind, but I know what things like that do to him. He's so fucking sensitive. I'm not saying that's a really bad thing. It's just fact. He takes statements like that, even the smallest statements, and his mind begins to go through some kind of pattern, working along the lines of thinking ‘if I do THIS wrong, then I must be doing other things wrong as well' and it all blows up into something much bigger than it ever needs to be. I think it has something to do with the fact that his dad was always on his case when he was a kid. Always criticizing him. Which is why, for the most part, I try not to pick stupid fights with him anymore, or else I choose my words carefully.

I realize now that I only wanted to lash out at him and make him feel as insecure and angry as I was at that moment. Yes, I did regret it the moment the words left my mouth. Could I be any lower? But that didn't stop me from keeping up the front. And it sure as hell didn't prompt me to offer any apologies.

Justin, instead of arguing with me as I had hoped he would, simply did an about face in the doorway, crossed in front of me stiffly and recapped the toothpaste. "Happy?" I simply stared at him, a bored look on my face and watched him stomp out of the room, muttering to himself that I was insane.

And then...I turned towards the sink and realized that I still had to brush my teeth. The reason he hadn't bothered putting the cap back on. I was sure at that moment that he was right. I was insane.

***

So the night he meets Brit, Brian blows up at me for like no reason whatsoever. Something had told me that I had gotten off waaaaaay too easily on the whole Brit thing. Of course Brian had to have recognized the name. But he never said anything. Instead we had fabulous - and I DO mean FABulous - sex in which he drove thoughts of any other human being on the planet out of my mind. It was DNA-changing, it was so damn good!

And then later, he blows up at me for nothing. It threw me for a loop for about three minutes. Then I was like...this is Brian. I've lived with Brian on and off for three years. This is par for the course. So I just let it go.

Brian never said a word about Brit and I went out of my way in the next few weeks, to assure him that I didn't have another man on the side, without actually coming out and saying the words. Most nights I made sure to be home before he got there. I would go out with him to Babylon and dance with random guys, stayed out of the backroom, and if Brit happened to be there then I would either drag him over to where Brian was so we could talk or I would just give him a quick wave and try to ignore him as much as possible.

Yes, he was amazing and after each time I saw him, I would produce at least three or four new sketches. But I figured it wasn't worth pissing my lover off to have any further contact with him.

All in all I really didn't mind doing these things and making the concessions for Brian's piece of mind. But then one night the whole thing blew up in my face.

It was the first night in a month that I hadn't rushed home right after class. My graphics professor had asked me to stick around and be the first to test out the school's new graphics software. Since my wonderful PARTNER always makes sure I have the latest and greatest programs available, I had already had the software for nearly a year. I actually ended up teaching my professor a few tricks, much to her amusement.

Anyway, I stepped into the loft that night and knew immediately that I had an angry Brian on my hands. Call it lover's intuition. Call it seeing him halfway to shit-faced by seven p.m. Call it whatever you like. But I knew. It was all about to come out, even though ‘all' was actually nothing.

"Where ya been Sunshine?"

I seethed at the name. What was once a well-meaning nickname had become scornful and tainted in the way Brian had said it.

"School." I didn't want to have to explain anything to him. I had done nothing wrong.

"Thought your classes ended at four."

Could he have sounded any more like a jealous boyfriend? When I was seventeen, I might have enjoyed this coming from him, but now I know the difference between having healthy jealousy issues and being controlling. This was definitely walking a fine line between the two.

"I had stuff to do," I said defensively, though I think maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut.

"Well...do you need to take a shower? We're supposed to be going out with the boys tonight."

It made guilt rise up within me, realizing that we were playing out a scene that had become so familiar when I had been cheating on him with Ethan. The shower comment was a sure sign that he thought something was going on but it also hit below the belt.

"Brian, I'm not going to do this."

"Do what?"

"You KNOW what."

"I didn't say anything," he shrugged, somehow managing to look both clueless and smug at the same time. "So what where you doing? Catching up on drawing assignments?"

Fine. If he was going to be all insinuating about it... "Is this about Brit?"

I can say this for him, Brian rarely misses a beat. He didn't even bat an eyelash at the name. "Brit. You have a thing for artistic types, huh?"

"You asshole."

"You're cheating on me and I'm the asshole?"

"YES! And I'm not, nor have I been, cheating on you! In fact...I've been busting my ass for the last month, trying every day to reassure you that nothing was happening!"

"Why go through all that trouble, Justin? Why bother trying to prove something that was never really in question?"

I rolled my eyes. Did he really think I was so oblivious? "Don't tell me you didn't recognize his name." I saw his mouth tighten slightly, giving me my answer. "Yes. I had a dream about him." Actually a few days after the last one, I had a very interesting dream with Brit, myself AND Brian, but I wasn't about to lay that on the table. "Please forgive me, oh great one, for dreaming of someone other than you!" He rolled his eyes but smirked, making me think that perhaps I was actually making my point. "But it was just a dream. He's hot. Even you have to admit that. But I never did anything more than dance with him. I swear."

Through my whole impassioned speech, all I could think was ‘how dare he make me explain myself'. I was so angry that he had made me feel like trash again. Made me feel like the same person that had walked away from him all those months ago. But I wasn't. I'm not. And it hurt that he could so easily think that.

Brian had nothing to say to that. I could tell he wanted to believe me. But then he reached down to the floor on the opposite side of the chair and held up a sketchbook. Flipping through the pages, making sure I saw them clearly, he eyed the images. At least twenty, maybe more, of Brit in various poses. Some of them nudes, though I promise those where all from my imagination. Sometimes I even used Brian's lower body, and if he had bothered to pay attention, he would have noticed the varying dick sizes on each of the nudes.

I just shook my head. "So I can't draw anyone else either?"

"I didn't say anything," he protested evenly.

"You didn't HAVE to! You... You... UGH! Just... UGH!" I screamed in frustration. I shoved my arms back into my jacket and grabbed my keys from the desk.

"Where are you going?" As if he suddenly cared!

"OUT! I don't wanna even look at you right now."

"Don't leave," he whispered. I could tell he was standing behind me. Coming after me even it was only two feet.

I slumped against the door, my forehead resting against the cold metal. Why? Why did he do these things to me? "I'm not gonna stay here and be accused of things I didn't do, Brian." I was so proud. My voice never even wavered.

"I...I didn't mean to accuse. I just... When you weren't home..."

I sighed. Okay. I was starting to see my part in this all. "That's my fault. Ever since you met Brit...I knew you were wondering if he was going to be another...Ethan. I..." I turned around so that I could look into his eyes. He deserved that and so did I. It was time to be honest. "I should have just talked to you about it. Instead...I just tried to show you that I was with YOU. That I love you. Came straight home every day. Tried to stick close to you as much as possible. I though it would prove..."

Brian chuckled and I was startled by his reaction. "I don't think we could be any more dysfunctional, do you?"

I thought about it for a second. He was right. In every aspect of our lives, he and I were a fucked up pair. I laughed as well and soon we were both holding one another, laughing together and at the same time reassuring one another.

So...communication is obviously not our strong point. Only talk when we're forced to, type of thing. Unhealthy? Perhaps. But what can I say? That's just us.

But I couldn't just leave things as they were. "Brian, you've heard of a muse, right?"

"Yes."

"Well...I think that's what Brit is for me. He's a decent model, but...every time I see him I get this urge to...draw the shit out of him."

"I thought I was your muse." Brian was still holding me so I couldn't see his face. But his words struck something so deep inside of me. I didn't NEED to see him to know what was in his heart at that moment.

"You...are my right hand. You're the reason I'm still here. My reason to get up in the morning. My greatest enemy and my best friend. And you are my inspiration."

He pushed me a way a little and I thought he was annoyed with the sentiment, but instead of looking exasperated, he looked flattered. Almost blushing, if Brian Kinney was actually capable of blushing. A small smirk appeared on his face. "So...you're saying I outrank a muse?"

I couldn't help it. I launched into a fit of giggles. Soon to be cut off by Tarzan Kinney as he picked me up, threw me over his shoulder and tossed me carefully onto the bed. Ready then to offer his own version of an apology. And who isn't a sucker for make-up sex?

***

It was a week later when I was informed that my class was going to begin working on nudes. First we would have a male, then a female and then a couple. I almost asked ‘a couple of what?' but I thought better of it.

I knew I would have to prepare Brian. We had decided that it might be beneficial to actually work on that whole communication thing. So I was going to tell him before he saw a sketch and decided I was going straight on him or something. Also...I wasn't sure who the model was going to be so I definitely wanted to warn him that I might be working with a very naked Brit.

Now...not much about Brian Kinney surprises me anymore. I'd like to think I know him pretty damn well. Better than most people, though not quite as well as others. Though I'm getting there. But his reaction threw me for a loop.

"My figure drawing class starts nudes next week."

"That's nice. Are you excited?" I simply stared at him. "Guess not."

"No...I mean yeah, I guess. It's just the human body. Not as if I've never drawn one of those before. But it will be cool to draw someone new."

He frowned at that but I left it alone. Didn't want to have him thinking that I was fixating on the fact that I was about to have to draw nude people.

It's actually quite funny. Artists want to appear all stoic about the whole thing and for the most part we ARE. It's just a naked body. We've all seen them. But there's still this little tiny part of you that wants to giggle at the whole idea. But I knew that after the first or second day of drawing unfamiliar dick, the class would calm down and go about it as if they were drawing from a still life. Arm goes here. Nose goes there. Dick goes here. Toes go there. Same old same old...

But as I said...that would be after the first couple of days.

The first day that we were to begin, I was actually running late. Brian had an early meeting that morning and wasn't able to drop me off at school. Not that I'm blaming him. But the freakin bus was running late and... Anyway, I was running up the stairs in front of the art building and noticed two of my classmates outside smoking as they were wont to do. "My watch must be broken," I mused. "I thought I was late."

Brooke, the girl that always insists on sitting next to me in class so that she can "cheat" (yeah I don't get it either) off of me, grinned. "You are." She inclined her head towards the girl sitting next to her on the bench. "We just needed a smoke after seeing the model."

"I don't know how I'm going to get through a week of looking at him."

I wince. "That bad, huh?"

"Yeah," Brooke giggled. "Um-no." When I gave her a blank stare she just shook her head at me and stomped out her cig before pulling me down the lower hall and into the drawing studio.

I can say now - Brit might have been beautiful but this... This man was fucking BREATH-taking! Saying that I was struck dumb is probably an understatement.

"Gorgeous, no?" Brooke whispered, tugging me onward towards our easels.

I'm actually glad she was there to do that. Otherwise I might have just stood there the entire class time staring slack-jawed at the man that was draped out upon a white sheet, looking more like he was sunbathing than modeling. The pale skin that I knew so well seemed to positively glow in the casting lights and his muscles, though always slightly pronounced, looked so much more graceful and strong in the varied shadows.

"What do you think? Gay? Straight?" Brooke jarred me from my daze.

"Gay. Definitely gay." I said with absolute certainty.

"Figures," she muttered.

I opened my tackle box and took out my supplies, my eyes never leaving our model for a second.

As I began to lovingly sketch the curves of his body, I caught Brian's eye and he winked at me slyly.

I grinned in return and finally looked away from him and around the room. It seemed that no one else was getting a damn thing done, so in awe, were they, of my lover. I'm used to it, but this time it made me proud. Not so much of his amazing body, though I'm totally happy with that as well. But I was proud that my partner would do such a thing for me. For us. Proud of the ‘I love yous' that I got from his actions.

Catching his eye once again, I mouthed ‘love you', returning it in my own way.

***

After I was thanked by the entire class, I walked into the changing area that was situated in a corner of the studio. I hadn't bothered with a robe which, now that I think about it, might have been why I was thanked so profusely by a few of the little pervs. I don't care what anyone says. Artists just aren't all detached when it comes to the naked body.

When I came out, Justin was waiting, that ugly ass bait-box in one hand and his portfolio on his shoulder. Giving him one-hundred percent on this little teen drama, I took his hand to lead him out of the art building towards the ‘vette. All his little artsy friends gasping in our wake, obvious looks of jealousy on their faces.

"I can't believe you did that? WHY did you do that?"

"What can I say? The money's good." I wasn't about to tell him that I actually had to pay that scheming little BRIT person the measly fifty bucks they payed just so I could get him to back out of the job.

The real reason why? I dunno. Maybe Justin thought I was still jealous. Maybe I was. But really...I think I actually just love the little shit.

Plus... He called me his inspiration.