


Taken

by Lae



Category: Queer as Folk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2005-07-29
Updated: 2005-07-29
Packaged: 2013-05-18 00:56:21
Rating: T
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2509023/1/
Author URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/484234/Lae
Summary: Sequel to Giving In. Justin helps out a friend, but at what cost to his love life? Based off challenge at No Turning Back. Justin POV.





	Taken

_

* * *

_

_I don't touch you the way I used to  
I don't call and write when I'm away  
We don't make love as often as we did do  
What couldn't wait now waits and usually goes away_

* * *

I sat in the dinner after my shift, sipping delicately from my steaming cup of coffee and patted the side of my face rather delicately, grimacing since I still felt blood on my face and tasted it on my tongue. I half-ignore Debbie's apologies, saying it was her fault that this happened. I shut her up with a pat on the hand and a grin, and a 'no really, it's mine. I knew that the floor was waxed, and yet I ran on it. Don't worry; I'm fine.'

But all of that just went out the window when I was tapped on the back, and I put my attention my current trick-problem-gawd…I sound like Brian. Heaven help me; the though of two Brians in the world either scares me shitless, or really turns me on. Not sure which.

"Yeah Ben, what's up?"

"Uh Justin…I was hoping if you weren't too busy, and you didn't mind, and if it was okay with your protector, if you would come over to the house, or I could come to your studio…what I mean is would you take time to tutor me in art? I've always wanted lesson, it's supposed to be very therapeutic, and…"

I just grinned, until that comment about my 'protector'-pishaw…but I sigh and shake my head.

"Sure Ben. How's Tuesdays and Thursdays at say…three? I'm free then. You can come over to the studio. It's on Grant and Forbes. Beautiful building it is."

"That's great. If you want, I could pay you-"

"No! No, it's fine. I don't talk money from friends."

"But you do from Brian."

I sit there, shocked. How in the-? Michael. Everyone, well, our little group of everyone, knows that Michael knows 'everything' about my lover-partner-whateverthefuck we are, and that his diarrhea of the mouth ensures that everyone will know. I sighed, and grinned up at him again. It's usually best to keep calm; after all, it's the WASP thing to do, right?  
"Never mind. It's fine. But Ben?"

"Yes?"

"Let's leave snipes about each other's…men _out_ of the studio. And Brian isn't my parent, no matter what Michael may say…I don't have to check in with him every thirty minutes. See you in an hour. Bring paint clothes." And with that, I stood, grabbed my bag, and left with a wave at Deb.

* * *

I looked up at the canvas-and-paintbrush clock Daph bought me for Labor Day. Gawd, that girl will use anything as a reason to shop for me. Worse than my mother, or Brian, now that I think about it.

I heard a buzz on the intercom, and I called down, hearing a 'It's Ben' in reply. I buzzed him up, and waited until he knocked, and I looked through the peephole to make sure that it was him. When I bought the place, Brian had made me agree to basic rules, this one of them. After, he _does_ want me around for a long time.

Letting him in, I showed him to the two easels set up, and began his tutelage.

Time passed, and soon it was five, the time we informally agreed it would end. I waved to him as he left, but he stuck his head in the door real fast, and I looked up at him.

"Yes?"

"Justin…is Brian okay with this? I thought he liked you home and ready?"

I frowned at the disdain in his voice, and I could feel my hackles rise.

"I thought that we went through this, Ben. We have separate lives, so yeah, he's okay with this. See you on Tuesday." And I shut the door, and then gave it a good kick. Taking a sip from my Gatorade, I frown as the cut in my mouth stung. I got up and looked in the mirror of the bathroom, and gasped slightly. My face was messed up. A big bruise replaced what once was my left cheek, and I had a small scrape and cut on my forehead and chin respectively.

"Brian is _sooooo_ gonna kill me." I thought out loud, and wondered if I have time to stop by Daphne's before heading home-gawd it's nice to say that-home to the loft, and then his office, but then I looked at the clock again and groaned. No time at all…he's expecting me at Kinnetik in thirty minutes, and it's a forty minute drive, and that's driving Brian-style. This was just a really sucky day all around.

* * *

_You think that you are complicated, deep mystery to all  
Well it's taken me a while to see, you're not so special  
All energy no meaning, with a lot of words  
So paper thin that one real feeling, could knock you down_

* * *

I arrived in Kinnetik, and I could _feel _the stares. I quickly walked-not ran-towards Brian's office. I've learned my lesson about running inside buildings. I stopped by Cynthia's desk real fast, but all I got is a nod. It's all I need. Considering how often I end up coming here, we have a code. Nod means 'yeah, go right in, he's waiting for you big boy.' Nose scrunches mean 'he's pissed. Help us!' and shakes of the head mean 'do NOT go in there.'

So I braved the lion's den, so-to-speak, and entered his office. It's a work of art, and I rather like it. But I digress.

He didn't look up when I entered, somehow knowing that it's me. Which I am so eternally grateful for that I don't catch his 'where ever _have_ you been Sunshine?' that he feels the need to look up at me. And I hear the gasp-his gasp, which immediately brings me to attention. The fact he made a sound like that isn't a good sign, unless we're in bed. Even then…

"Justin, what the **FUCK** happened to your face?"

I grin sheepishly, and rub my toe in the carpet slightly, but the look on his face makes me stop and reply. Gawd, he can control me worse than a puppet…not that I mind. I don't.

"Uh, I slipped and fell. No big deal. I can't even feel it anymore."

I wasn't lying-really. I did fall, and it's not that big of a deal-I'm alive, right? And I can't feel it anymore because I put an icepack on my face, and drank a Slush Puppy-strawberry, my personal fav-on the way, somy mouth is numb.

"Not a big deal. **NOT** a big deal! Are you **INSANE** Sunshine?"

I walked over to him, pushing him down in his chair, stradled him and stroked his shoulders.

"Calm down Bri. I'm fine, as you can see. Now stop acting like a drama queen and scaringyour workers, and give me a hello."

And boy, did he comply. He pulled me down into his lap, which was fine, but sometime during the kiss he encountered the cut in my mouth, and pulled away when he tasted blood instead of me. I grinned slightly, and stood, pulling him with me, and wewent down towards the car.

* * *

"Justin we're going home, we'll get take out, and you're going to let me look at your face."

I just grinned in my mind, and nodded slightly. I wouldn't admit it, but I didn't really mind take-charge Brian, and the expression on his face was adorable. But I wouldn't say that either. I do enjoy being alive.

I reflected as we drove home in my car-the Element. He didn't care for it, or the label, but it worked the best for me, and it was a real fuckmobile.

"So…I'll be dropping you off at work tomorrow morning then?" I guessed, still staring out of the window and up at our home.

"If I let you out of the loft, sonny boy."

I glared at him for that comment, but sighed and unbuckled my seat-beltinstead. It was cute, and despite his bullshit, he did care, did jealous, did protection, did _me_. So like the figurative puppy dog, I followed him up and let my man take care of me. After all, what decent fag doesn't like being pampered?

* * *

Months passed, and Ben and I got into a pattern: lessons on Tuesday and Thursday, and 'outings' on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. It turns out that he had those two hours free all week, and it ended up being a lot of fun. We went on trips to museums, and saw some Pittsburgh culture, like the Stephen Foster Memorial, which I couldn't go to with Brian after all.

Other times, we went on real field trips. The best was probably when we took the L down to South Hills Village, or the Village as it was referred to. We window-shopped, had discussions, and had some good old fashion mall food-things Brian would give me a hard time for: Dippin' Dots, Cinnibun, and Auntie Anne's.

We stopped in the food court to enjoy our treat, which was as beautiful as I'd heard. The atrium in the middle let in a lot of light, and we discussed the sketching possibilities, Another thing we had in common, and another interest I lacked with Brian.

However, when I got up to leave, I saw this _look_ on Ben's face. One I knew, recognized. The look on Brian's face when he's fucking a trick. Lust. And I gulped. And realized that this could get ugly. And if I knew just how bad, I would have run with the proverbial tail between my legs.

* * *

_I don't mind if you come home late  
I don't ever ask you where you've been  
I just assume there's a problem will you tell me_

* * *

Eventually, school started up again, and we had to reschedule to a later time, usually seven o'clock. I had made sure to not do anything that could be labeled suggestive. After all, this man was my lover's best friend's husband. I couldn't risk the scandal.

By the time the lessons-now more like group painting, he really was good at it-ended, and I went out to relax, I wasn't home until one, or two in the morning. I knew it wasn't that late considering, but because of his fledging company, Brian was usuallydone fucking me, and teh asleep by midnight.

I knew when I crawled in bed that he was awake, no matter how hard he tried to look asleep. But that I owe to my Kinney Handbook, Lover Edition. I also knew it bothered him, but why should it? He knew where I was, and whom I was with. Nothing was going to happen. Or so I thought.

* * *

Eventually Ben decided that he wished to do a study of the human form, and I gulped. I started to ramble off various people I knew would be happy to pose, but he hushed my with a finger to my lip and I growled, internally. I hated that sort of thing, it's demeaning. Then came my undoing.

"I would like you to do it, Justin. I don't know why, but it feels right."

I gulped once or twice, to stall, think of a way to get out of it.

"Uh, I'd be delighted to Ben, but I don't think I could. I'm not good at standing still for a while, and it would be kind of weird…" But seeing the look on his face, I caved.

"Fine, I'll do it. When?"

"How's tonight?"

I looked up, prayed to the powers that be that this would end well, and stripped off my shirt.

* * *

And so, here I am, on the couch in my-our empty loft, wondering where the hell my lover is. He left a note: 'Sorry, going out for a while. Be back whenever'. No name, no address, no…feeling. I felt a knife twisting in my gut, and knew, _knew_ that something bad was going to happen.

I jump up at the sound of the loft door opening, and freeze at the look on his face, one I haven't seen for years. The face that stared at me as I walked off with the fiddle-fuck, as Brian calls him.

"Bri?"

"Shut the fuck up Justin."

Justin…he said my name. He _never_ says my name, unless he's pissed or worried. He looked pissed. I was worried.

"Brian, what's going on, what's wrong?"

The look on his face almost makes me cry. Pain, anger, jealousy…betrayal. I watch my more stoic-than-usual lover walk towards the desk, pick something up, and throw said something at me. I leaf through it and frown. The sketches of me…nude.

"What are these?"

"I was hoping, that you could tell me Justin."

"Uh, well, I…they're sketches."

"No kidding." The sarcasm in his voice could o.d. a cynic. I scowl.

"I think-I know that they're Ben's. I told you, I was giving him lessons, and we got to human form, and he asked. It's not that big of a deal Bri."

I startle at the sound of glass shattering, and frown at the now remains of his glass he was holding.

"Look at the backs, Sunshine. He has your names-together-scrawled all over them like…like some teenager's notebook! He's in fucking LOVE with you, and you **POSED** for him! **NAKED**!" The pure rage on his face and in his voice should make me run, get away, but I just walk toward him.

"Bri…Brian. I thought-I knew, that he was in _lust_, but love? I doubt it. But anything, except friendship, he may feel is unrequited. I love you. Brian Aidan Patrick Kinney. Not him. You_ know_ this. Besides, he loves Michael." By that time, I'm rubbing his shoulders, his neck, and he sags into me.

"Don't be so sure. I was…over at Michael, picking up your check, when he handed me a few rolled up sketches, thinking they were yours, but they were…"He motioned towards the nudes, and I gulp. "And?"

"And I opened them real fast and I…I flipped. I told Michael I'd meet him at Woody's, came here, put them on the desk, and left a note, and went out. When I got there, he was piss drunk, and complain that Ben was never home, that all he heard was 'Justin' this and 'Justin' that. I just told him that it wasn't another Stephen kid. Quite the opposite. Is that right Sunshine? Are you still-are we still?"

And I can't answer, so I don't. But I take him to bed, and using our language, tell him what he-we need to hear. That he may have given in to me, but it's me who is taken. Every time. That's it us, for eternity. No matter how many Ben's get in the way.

* * *

Song Lyrics are from _Who Makes You Feel_ and_ See You When You're 40_ both by Dido

This was based off a challenge at No Turning Back, and is a sequel of sorts to Giving In.


End file.
