Chapter Two: Strangers When We Meet
He could still feel him, but he was definitely not going to fall for him again. Christ- the mere idea of knowing the man was still downstairs affected him in a way it shouldn't.
This wasn't how Brian wanted things to happen. Everything was ruined. He couldn't act naturally around him anymore… Not after the strongest reminder of how much he wanted him.
He extended his fingers to brush his own lips, remembering the familiar, recent kiss when he heard the steps heading for the room. Please, don't do this- I can't explain.
"We need to come up with something- now," the blond said firmly, stepping in.
"I don't quite understand what you're talking about," Brian responded half-honestly, staring at his own feet.
"You're fucked," Curt remarked. And the other man chose to believe he was talking about his financial troubles. Although he did not want to discuss it, even that was better than diving into an emotional argument that Brian couldn't even consider at the moment.
He sighed heavily. "I've already told you, I've fig-"
"Bullshit," Curt dismissed the man's words. "There's no fucking way you fixed it in one day."
Brian remained silent, Curt wasn't that stupid.
"I can help," the blond said softly. Brian's fingers curled into a fist out of frustration, and he resisted the urge to lift it when he heard the next words. "I've got money."
"Absolutely not," Brian replied in a heartbeat, turning around to face Curt.
"I knew you'd say that but...you can pay me back."
"No, I can't," the man responded dryly.
"Well…" Curt ran a hand through his hair. "That's okay. I kind of owe you, anyway…"
Brian frowned. "You owe me?"
"Yeah, you know…" Curt made his way to sit down the bed. "You invested in me, so…"
"And you think that was out of business?" Brian replied, offended. That money…was not even real for him. It hadn't been at the time, and no matter how he felt about Curt now, that wouldn't change. Acts of faith, and trust- those things didn't fade for him.
"No, I know," Curt rushed to explain. "All I'm saying-"
"Well, if you do you shouldn't be asking me such a thing," Brian replied with the calmest tone he could manage.
"I want to help, okay? I know you don't fucking like it but I don't think you got much of a choice," the blond said, standing up.
"Leave me alone," was Brian's immediate response. He didn't want to explain how much he hated feeling trapped. Curt should already know it himself.
"I said-" the man cut him off, raising his palm so Curt would stop talking. "Leave me alone."
Curt's jaw dropped slightly, as he shook his head in resignation. "You already are," he responded while standing up and closing the door.
Brian shut his eyes in a mix of anger and regret. He wasn't sure Curt could afford to stand another rejection but God- he wished the man could. But there was no time left to take care of this emotional mess. He had to sort his priorities.
The man began riffling through the clothes and shoes from the most relevant tours to decide which ones to put for sale and creating a system to organize them, outlining a business plan.
He didn't leave the room unless it was for a cup of tea, and he ran into Curt a few times as he did so, but the men didn't have any kind of exchange.
Later that night, Brian descended the stairs to make dinner, and found Curt putting on his jacket, presumably to leave the house.
"Are you going out?" he asked, absently turning his head around as he opened the refrigerator.
The blond searched for a cigarette in his pocket and shove it in his lips. "Yeah," he responded, holding the lighter as he cupped his hand around the flame. He then took a deep drag and narrowed his eyes against the blur. "I thought you may need some time alone. Well... We, really."
Brian nodded- Curt was probably right. Although he did wonder how they could need it, given that they hadn't even spent two days together after wasting four years apart.
"I just can't deal with it, Brian," Curt confessed, approaching the counter. "You know...having you around and not..." He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the man for some kind of answer.
"I know," Brian responded. It was difficult for him too, especially given the recent events.
"I mean…" He sighed heavily. "You keep shutting me out, and I get you don't wanna rush things and shit but you hardly talk to me. It's like I'm not even here."
"I told you nothing was going to change," Brian replied calmly.
"And I told you that's bullshit," Curt responded. "I know you, you're trying so fucking hard to not tell me how you really feel. It's not like you don't feel it at all."
Brian sighed heavily, hating himself for apparently being so transparent. He used to be so successful at hiding those things. How could Curt see through him with such clarity?
"We'll talk," the British man assured him. "Later."
Curt nodded, still looking upset. "Okay..." He took a drag, attempting to calm himself down. " I got a some shows from now on so..."
"Yes," Brian replied, knowing Curt meant that they would do it after he came back. "I'll see you then."
"Good." Brian immediately turned his face away as he felt Curt's lips approaching. He felt the man's eyes staring at him, only for a second before he quickly headed for the door.
"Curt." The blond's head snapped to face Brian. "Here," he said, reaching for the key and handing it back to him. Curt looked down at the small object and then at Brian.
"Just in case I'm not home," He said warmly.
"I can wait around," Curt replied, strengthening the man's purpose.
"I insist," he said, placing the key in Curt's palm and closing his dark-polished fingers.
The man mirrored the grin, and walked out the door.
Jack Fairy's steps resounded on the hallway, before he knocked the door of the dressing room. "Curt," Another knock. "Five minutes."
"Hold on," he replied, sliding his shiny, silver-plated pants up his legs. Late again, but fuck it. He was the star, right? They would have to wait.
"They're already waiting," the red-haired man insisted.
"Fucking wait," Curt snapped, not even bothering to open the door.
Not only did Curt not give a fuck about performing on time, but his mind wasn't focused in the show. He couldn't stop remembering all those times he had been in that exact same room with Brian. It was the same old theatre they had shared in their tours together.
He sit down the swivel chair, facing the mirror and bringing back an specific memory...
"Look up," Brian said, holding the eyeliner near Curt's eye. "Stay still."
Curt blinked hard. "You poked out my eye, asshole," he replied with a grin on his face.
"You won't stop moving, prat," Brian responded, sliding the pencil across the man's eyelid.
"There you go..." He moved away to get a full sight of him.
"How is it?" Curt asked, spinning the chair to face the mirror.
Brian turned him around, looking at him while softly chewing on his lip. "Hot," he replied before placing a brief kiss on his lips and heading for the cosmetics. "No lipstick?"
"Hell, no," Curt replied chuckling. "That's for queers."
"Thank you very much," Brian responded sarcastically. "You're highly more homosexual than I am, though." he said, applying the eyeshadow over his own lid.
"What happened with your bisexuality philosophy? No such thing as fag or straight?"
The man approached Curt and wrapped his arms around him from behind, staring at him through the backwards picture. "You're the exception that proves the rule, poof."
"Yeah, right," Curt said, widening his eyes while staring at the mirror. "You wear dresses, man."
"Used to, and well...you don't shag girls," he pointed out. "So..."
Curt turned around, spinning the chair and facing the man. "Here's the thing," he began, standing up and cupping Brian's jaw. "With you, I got both covered."
Brian smiled widely, and wrapped his arms around Curt's waist. But his grin faded. "Promise me we won't become them," he murmured. "Any of them."
Curt shook his head, staring into his big glassy eyes. "Not gonna happen."
"How would you know?" Brian asked- he sounded serious.
Curt only smiled, responding in a soothing, confident voice. "Easy- that's why we rule the world, babe..." Brian frowned, as Curt approached his lips to the man's ear, whispering the next words. "They can't take us down."
But they did... Brian, mostly. He had changed completely over the last years. All those traces the man showed him at the beginning was all he could see in the end of their time together.
It hadn't been the world, the world hadn't fucking changed them or itself. It was him. It had been him. Maxwell Fucking Demon.
Self-centered arrogant motherfucker who seemed to believe he could treat him like shit. Worst fucking thing? He had allowed it. Cause he always fucking did.
He had never really understood why Brian had become him. It was supposed to be a fucking stage character, not a splitting personality psycho. Shit. It had ruined everything. Thank God the man had left the business. No idea what the fuck was going on in the man's mind while he played the psycho but it was killing him, it was killing Brian Slade.
He remembered warning him about it but...Brian was blind with success, money, fame, adoration. All the things that didn't really matter. Asshole.
"What the hell was that?" Brian asked, as he slammed the door closed but managed a calm tone of voice.
"What?" Curt snapped with a smug grin on his face. "Did I piss off the queen?" he said as he entered the hotel room. "Good."
"Are you out of your mind?" Brian asked in the same irritating tone. "You can't-"
"I am," Curt cut him off. "You're driving me fucking crazy." He sat down the bed, kicking off his shoes.
Brian sighed. "You're-"
"Unprofessional? Childish? Stupi-"
"Would you please let me speak?"
Curt lay down, shutting his eyes. "Whatever, I don't give a shit anyway."
"You can't settle the score by-" Brian stopped, probably trying to keep his tone down. "You can't simply... It's my bloody job, Curt!" He yelled, finally losing his temper. "My career, are you aware of-"
"I don't care about your job. I don't fucking care about your career either. Or Jerry, or fucking anything!" The blond yelled at the ceiling. "Not like this, Brian. No fucking way."
"What on earth do you mean?!" Brian moved to sit next to Curt. "We have had this exact same conversation a million times and I still-"
Curt immediately sat up on the bed. "Don't play dumb with me! I told you, you're becoming this twisted motherfucker you created. It's sick, it makes me sick too."
"I am making you sick?" Brian asked, standing up again. "Why don't you look at yourself for a minute? You worthless self-pitying little waste of time."
"See?!" Curt snapped loudly, losing his nerve and jumping out of the bed. "Fucking listen to you! You treat me like-"
"You deserve it," Brian responded coldly.
"That's it," Curt snarled as he took Brian by his shirt, pushing him toward the wall. "Let's settle the score," he snapped defiantly.
Brian pushed him away. "Do you want to fight?" he asked, with that stupid grin still on his face. Fucking psycho.
"We've been doing it all as your majesty requested," Curt began, giving the man another thud. "So we're solving this my way."
Brian remained still, looking away.
"What's wrong?" Curt continued, forcefully cupping the man's jaw. "Pansy limey doesn't know how to act like a man?"
Brian's body stiffened, before he glared at the blond. "Who taught you so?" He asked, his smile crooking. "Your brother?"
It was fucking low of him, but the worse thing was how…steady his voice was. How there were no traces of remorse in it. It scared Curt shitless.
In a flash, he threw his fist to the man's face, sending him right to the floor. He didn't think about it- it was all he wanted to do at the time. Kill the motherfucker who was taking all they had built up and destroying it in the most painful way possible. Because that wasn't Brian. It just couldn't be.
But whoever this man was, he winced as his hand flew to cover the striking red cheek. And remained quiet, staring at the wine-colored carpet.
"You're the most cold-blooded motherfucker I've ever fucking met," Curt said, his voice shaking as he struggled for the burning tears not to fall. Brian's eyes were still locked down, refusing to hear. But the blond wouldn't stand this, and so he violently held the man's chin- forcing him to face him. "And I pity you," he spat, releasing his face with a slap.
The British man stayed in silence for a few minutes. And only spoke when hearing Curt about to leave.
"I hate you," he muttered tightly, tears running down his cheek.
Curt took a moment before crossing the door. "At least you fucking feel."
Curt sighed heavily, remembering the horrible times and longing for the good ones. They had hurt each other so...cruelly. Both of them.
"Curt, I'm not saying it again!" Jack snapped, opening the door.
The blond sighed, rolling his eyes. "Alright, ginger," he responded cheerfully, knowing that the man was actually right. He got on his feet and headed for the door, while Jack smiled in relief. "Anything for you to stop bitching."
"Why do I still work with you?" Jack replied smiling, following Curt through the hallway. His voice always soft.
"You love me," Curt said, grinning.
Jack smiled sadly. "You don't."
Curt stopped walking to turn his face to Jack, lowering his voice. "Cut it out."
Jack stared at the man, studying him for a minute. "You saw him, didn't you?"
The blond sighed heavily, resuming his way. "Not your fucking business."
"I thought you-" Jack tried to point out.
"I know," Curt replied bitterly. He wanted to get the fuck out of there, but his feet seemed to be glued to the goddamned floor for some reason.
"He's hurting you," The red-haired man blurted. Jeez, he had heard that fucking line countless times.
Curt looked at his shoes, debating turning around- but he didn't. Instead, he shifted his eyes to his own shoulder- catching a glimpse of the small blurred figure behind him. "He's fucking not."
"Well… then he will," the man said as he walked towards Curt, and placed a hand over his shoulder. But the blond abruptly moved away, and made his way to the stage after hearing Jack's last words.
"He always does."
Brian waited for Jerry in his office, although he did want to murder and sue the bastard- not necessarily in that order- he knew it was time to be diplomatic. Maybe trying to conceal some kind of agreement would lead him to a better way out.
"I can't find the words to express how terribly remorseful I feel, Brian," Jerry lied, walking into the room. "I expect this won't harm our relationship?"
"Of course," Brian replied through clenched teeth. "Business is business."
"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me." Jerry smiled, sitting in front of him. "If there was something you always possessed, it was tolerance and loyalty."
"Is there anything left?" Brian asked, disgusted by Jerry's immeasurable degree of hypocrisy.
"You're a smart man," Jerry said with a relaxed smile. "You've earned my respect."
Brian faked a smile. "Do I benefit from it?"
The older man lit his cigar. "Your house is insured," he said blatantly. "Unassailable."
Brian held a sigh of huge relief. "Such a misfortune to your plans, isn't it? The real state value is sky-high," he said with exaggerated sarcasm.
"My actions were nothing but a small tax," Jerry justified himself, "considering you owe me your entire career."
"I only owe my success to one person, and that's myself," Brian said firmly, standing up and facing Jerry. "And you're bloody lucky I'm smart enough not to waste my valuable time dragging you back to the hole from which you crawled. I know you will end up there as it is, regardless."
Jerry smirked. "Brian, Brian... Letting me get under your skin? I don't know if I should be disappointed or flattered."
"I'm the disappointed one- I thought you smarter," he said, approaching to the man and speaking with the most unbreakable calm. A wide smile drawing in his face. "Dreadful move, Jerry. You set me loose, and lost your cash cow."
He then moved away, heading for the door. "Oh, where are my manners?" His feet made his way to Jerry once again. "Thank you."
Brian closed the door, and headed for the exit. Doing so, he passed by a room he recognized, and walked back to take a look. It was the conference room, and an odd and annoying breeze of nostalgia made him walk in.
Was he really absolutely convinced he should quit? Wouldn't he miss any of it? He had thought it was what lead him to lose his mind- his true mind. But now that he saw the large table, smell the wooden floor and recalled the very beginnings of his efforts- he started to doubt it.
Maybe it was a matter of changing the way thinks worked, and who managed them. And he was tired of all of those who involved and created a business out of his art, but not his art in itself.
But, when it came to it...maybe the real problem was there. As opposed to Curt and many other artists, his art only pushed his real been away instead of a way to reach them. It was nothing but part of the act. Christ, he was deep down screwed.
Maybe if he started all over again...
Reality ripped Brian from his hopes- he was skint. How in heaven's name would he start anything?
He sighed heavily, sitting down one of the many chairs in that room. His fingers drumming on the wood as the thoughts ran through his mind. And this little gesture guided him to remember something he would have never guess it was hidden in his memory. But his fingers kept drumming, and his surroundings seemed to blur and become clear with different but similar colours and structures- taking Brian into that specific time.
His fingertips constantly knocking the glass table, as Brian occasionally glanced at Jerry- who seemed to be much more calm.
"It's your responsibility," Jerry said calmly.
Brian only nodded.
Curt was about to walk into that conference room, and he had been oddly nervous since he was told so. The black boots stepped over the polished wood, and the most relaxed sexy smile burst out of the young man as soon as he met Brian's eyes.
"So," the dirty blond began as he dropped his weight down the chair and propped his ankle over his knee. "What did I miss?"
"Curt, I believe we've discussed your assistance," Jerry replied, lighting up a cigar. A thinner version was already lit in between the rock boy's teeth.
Curt tsked, smiling. Always charmingly rebel. "It's still noon."
Jerry warily looked at Brian, but he shrugged slightly.
"Anyway," he resumed. "We've been debating with Brian here, the positive prospects of investing in a new project. It would comprise both of you as a single public figure. A feign couple, if you will."
"An act," Brian explained as Curt nodded slowly. "All we need to perform some public displays of affection and leave the rest to them."
"Precisely. Are you willing to do so?" the manager asked Curt.
He chuckled. "Yeah, that's no problem." Brian's body stiffened as he felt Curt's palm fall onto his own knee. "Don't even need to act." Brian bit down on his lip, feeling the man's fingers skimming his leg.
Jerry smiled ambitiously. "Even better."
Brian forced himself to open his eyes not to allow Curt's imaginary fingers go further in.
Why was he recalling these things? Why did his mind -insist on reminding how hopelessly he wanted this man and at the same time create an impenetrable barrier to keep him from acting in consequence of it? And then he figured it out.
He didn't want things as they were at the moment- he wanted things as they were back then.
When Curt was nothing but an obsession, a harmless delightful fixation that didn't get under his skin in any way other than a shudder…
The phone rang, and Brian knew who was calling. The meeting was about to finish- Brian's eagerness grew with every second.
"Brian?" Jerry snapped. "Are you listening?"
Brian nodded. "Would you excuse me, gentlemen?" he said politely, before leaving twenty businessmen alone in his own living room. It was probably disrespectful, but he truly didn't care.
The phone rang again, and this time Brian picked it up within seconds.
Brian's hand trembled, his breath catching. He had waited for this phone call since he had woken up. "Finally."
Curt chuckled. "You busy?" Lord, his voice. It simply melted him.
"Not for you. When will I see you again?"
There was a long silence, voices blending through the phone. Then, his voice again. Anxious.
Brian swallowed a deep sigh of content. "I'm in a meeting."
"In your house?"
"Jerry insisted." Brian's voice was unsteady- he was so nervous.
"Throw them out," the low, gritty and beyond sensual voice ordered.
Brian bit hard down on his lip. "Don't tempt me." Or he would, all he wanted was to see him. Touch him, kiss him. It seemed forever since the last time, even if it hadn't been more than three days. He hadn't felt this level of excitement since he was a bloody teenager. "You know I will."
"It'll be damn worth it."
Brian took a deep breath. The man was so alluring. "I'll be done in ten or fifteen minutes. Don't be late."
"I'm on my way."
Brian rested his head on the chair. Those had been wonderful times…When he only cared enough to admire him instead of truly adoring him. When he only existed in his built-up fantasies and the real image was nothing but a stunning coincidence.
When nothing was real, and his feelings weren't compromised.
When he was out of harm's way.
Now, he couldn't be more exposed. He knew he could maintain his façade for a lifetime if he intended to but Curt made it all different. He saw through him. And therefore, through any sort of disguise he could use. And he hated it. Because it was exactly that had led him to love the man in the past, and as much as he tried to deny it- it threatened to bring that feeling back, and he couldn't afford it.
However, there was nothing his deep instincts wished more than the man's hands around his body- in one way or another. And that bloody kiss still burned. On his lips, his flesh, and deep down his soul.
He wanted more, as he always did.
From Curt too, but mostly himself. And from this pathetic play his life had become. But…was it really possible? Did he had what it took to climb down the stage he had put himself on? But that didn't even matter, for the real question remained.
Was it worth the trouble?
Was there anything left behind the curtain?
If he turned off the light, cleaned up his face of the makeup and stepped out of his costume…
Would he still exist?
Curt walked through the cold night as he made his way back to the house, but he wasn't sure he wanted to see Brian again- he was damn angry at him for being such a goddamned tease. Kissing him and then acting as though he had been raped or something. Make up your fucking mind.
Not that Curt was any good at stopping himself from doing something stupid or impulsive but he hadn't. Even if Brian was something that he just couldn't handle. He was trying. So there.
And he just wanted to be with him. Nothing more, nothing less. Future wasn't something Curt had even considered- he just wanted to live in the moment. And Brian was wasting too much time for his taste.
The man wanted him too, that was for sure. He had shown him so, even if he tried so hard not to. And why did he make it so fucking complicated, anyway? Yeah, things had gotten damn dysfunctional in the last months but that didn't mean it couldn't work now.
He took a deep drag from his cigarette, shaking his head at his previous thought. No, Brian just wouldn't go for it. And if he did, he'd just take it like Curt was demeaning the whole thing and would distrust him even more. Cause Brian was tricky like that.
Actually, the man was a fucking puzzle. He wanted this, and then that. Seconds later he didn't want any of those things or maybe he did, but not in that specific way unless the circumstances changed and just... fuck it.
He remembered how Brian used to need him as close as he could get, 'to feel the warmth of his skin' and then five minutes later he'd want Curt to leave him the fuck alone. Another three minutes and Brian would start missing him again. It was madness.
But he had learned to understand how insecure Brian was, despite what he showed him. And that all those reactions were nothing but fear. And now it was even worse cause the man had lost the only stability he had- money.
So, he did want to help him. Cause no matter how fucking much he had hurt him or how he could easily turn into the biggest motherfucker, Curt still cared for him. He still didn't know why, but-unlike Brian- he didn't need to know.
So, he had managed to help him somehow. Since Brian wouldn't take his money, he had talked to Jack and convinced him to invest in him. It hadn't been hard since the man was a golden business to anyone.
Now, if Brian decided to not accept this chance, fuck it. It was his shitty decision.
"Brian?" He heard coming from downstairs- Curt had arrived.
The man descended to the first floor, holding the cup of tea. There he was- it only took his presence to make Brian realize he had missed him.
Curt headed for the kitchen, talking with excitement. "I talked to Jack, and you better not be an asshole about this- he wants to invest."
"Jack?" was all Brian replied, confused.
"Fairy? My manager?"
"Oh." Brian thought for a moment. He didn't agree with Curt telling his situation to others. No matter how reliable he seemed, Jack wasn't someone he trusted. Therefore, he wasn't comfortable with him knowing he had troubles. What if he took advantage of it?
He stood up.
"Who gave you permission to divulge my financial situation to strangers?"
Curt sighed heavily. "Don't be a jerk and listen, cause I'm not gonna tell you twice."
Well, Curt had good intentions- didn't he? Even if he didn't trust him either, did he really have anything left to lose? And...he honestly didn't want to fight. So he remained silent, waiting for Curt to continue.
"If things go well you should be able to pay the debt and make some profits."
Brian nodded, taking Curt words in. It made sense- Jack had turned Curt into a successful star from what he knew. It had obviously been primarily Curt's merit, however, he knew that no matter how talented the artist was, they still needed someone who knew exactly how to let the world know.
"Well," he took a sip of his tea. It seemed feasible, although he would probably have to cut a new record. "It doesn't sound impossible."
"You need a new album, though."
Brian nodded yet again. "I figured."
"That's all, hope it helps." Curt took a beer from the fridge, and slowly made his way to the couch.
The British man left the mug in the sink, and turned on the water. "How was your show?" he asked, hearing the lie in his voice. Hoping Curt wouldn't notice.
"Great, actually," he said, taking his jacket off. "Although they fucked up with the microphone twice, but I guess people didn't notice because of all the screaming."
The words slipped from the man's mouth. "It was very subtle, too." Brian shut his eyes tightly. Idiot.
"What?" he heard Curt snapping.
"If they didn't notice, I meant," he tried to disguise the truth, but his voice sounded unsteady.
Why was it making him so nervous? It wasn't such a big deal.
The blond stood up. "I don't think so."
Brian chuckled, trying to mislead him. "Don't be paranoid."
Curt moved closer, studying the man for a moment as he turned around once he had finished the dishes. The man's gaze felt uncomfortable, irritatingly intimidating. "Jeez, you were there."
Jesus. Was his guard down or anything along those lines? I must be tired.
Brian stared at him, but felt forced to looked away. "What if I was? It's not that big of a deal."
"Sure it's not. But you didn't want me to know, that is."
Brian shrugged, but Curt was spot on.
"What did you think?" he asked, throwing Brian a new dilemma.
Lying about his performance made no sense. Apart from any issue he could have with Curt at the moment, he still adored his music and couldn't help but enjoy the shows he offered. It had been such a long time since he had seen him on the stage, and he was still- if not more- dazzling.
But he was fearful about showing him what it had caused in him. He could remember the blond's cyan eyes, distinguishing in the blue smoke. The light painting his skin into pale amaranthine silk. The delirious crowd, worshipping him…
Brian ran a hand across the back of his neck, softly chewing on his lip and staring down. "You were brilliant," he finally confessed, looking up to meet Curt's eyes.
The man smiled, slightly surprised. There was a small pause before he spoke again. "I've thought about you."
So did I. Every day. "Did you?"
"Yeah..." the man smiled shamefacedly. "Remembered stuff, you know?"
Brian looked into those water-coloured eyes. His attempts not to show his real emotions failed miserably.
"You too?" Curt read right through him.
The man nodded. He wished the blond would move away, only so he could push away his need for him to come closer.
Curt bit down on his lip, the most subtle smile drawing on his face before firmly wrapping his arms around him- burying his face in the man's shoulder.
Brian's seemed to freeze. A storm of memories drowning his conscience. Mercifully, he moved slightly away- just to enough to look deep into Brian's eyes and erase all those nagging thoughts.
"I don't want this," Curt's muffled words reached Brian's ears. "I don't fucking like it."
The man had absolutely no idea what to do. Still, he prayed for Curt not to draw his arms away. It made him feel so...warm.
The man's arms tightened their grip, ripping a soft gasp out of Brian's mouth along with an instant reflect- forcing him to hold him back. Infamous tears dancing in his eyes.
Please, stop. Please.
"We're not the same," Brian managed to say, trying to ease his vulnerability. And made his biggest effort to push the man away.
Curt stared into his eyes, confused. "So what?" he murmured, leaning his hand to wipe the tears.
It was more that Brian could take. He was about to break right there- he'd simply fall to pieces in front of the one who caused it. He could recognize the awful sensation, the nauseating cry climbing up his throat.
"Don't touch me," he blurted, snapping Curt's hand away.
The man raised an eyebrow and remained still, only to abruptly move closer a few seconds later. "You do it."
Brian felt completely ripped from the emotions, and dragged into a an uneasy state. "I beg your pardon?" was all he said, and regretted it immediately.
"Yeah, touch me," Curt repeated, advancing the man until Brian's body hit his own. "I've been thinking all the fucking day," he said breathily, taking Brian's hand and placing it on his own chest. "It's been driving me crazy."
Even if Brian did feel instantly affected, he also felt an incredible relief. For he could control arousing feelings infinitely better than any other one.
"I know you want it," was Curt's last try.
In other terms, in other times- he would had found Curt's confidence incredibly attractive. But now it wasn't the case. Since the blond probably thought it only took one phrase for Brian to debunk his feelings. And he was throughout wrong. Still...
Curt felt the heat growing in his body. He had gone nuts just from remembering the man's voice or skin. He wanted to hear it, feel it. And he wanted it now.
The British man remained quiet for a minute. "It seems like I'm not the only one."
"Fuck- no," Curt admitted with an obvious look. "I've been wanting to get my hands on you since I came here. That's no secret."
"However, I do have one," the British man said with a mysterious tone of voice. "I've been wanting to feel your fingers all over me too, from the very first moment you walked in…Well, and before…" He bit his lip. "Long before."
Curt arched both eyebrows. What the… "Really?"
Next thing he felt was Brian's fingers curling into his t-shirt. "Oh, yes. Every night I've been lying up there. Wishing for you to ignore my silly words and crawl under the sheets, kissing me all the way up… So I can feel your hair, brushing my skin…"
Curt's breath became heavy, as the man continued talking smoothly- the accent melting every word. He was still kinda shocked about how easy Brian had given in, but he sure as fuck liked it enough to keep his mouth shut.
"And I'm…" Brian pursed his lips. "Shaking a little… I feel the desire, building up inside my body…"
"You come closer…my breath catches in my throat. Your tongue is travelling up my neck, ripping soft moans off my own lips…"
Curt's parted mouth leaned in. His body was burning, craving for some contact. "You're so…" Brian's warm lips approached as well, and whispered- right into his mouth. "…credulous."
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