Type 1

Disclaimer - Showtime/CowLip own them. I don't, no profit, yadda yadda.

It's a fic that has absolutely nothing to do with the WIP! ;D I don't know about you guys, but I certainly didn't see this one coming.

Set sometime after 403 but before 406, and I guess vaugely AUish just because there's no mention of the Pink Posse. Porn, humour, angst, yadda!

Brian/Justin, rated NC-17 for sexual situations. Many, many thanks to nel for looking over this. *smooch* Feedback would be great :)

Christ, he was looking forward to fucking Justin.

Well, he always looked forward to it, but even more so than usual at the moment. Setting up his own business was long, hard, even inspiring work - but it was also fucking exhausting. He didn't mind putting in long hours - he never had, if something was worth doing - but he could barely remember the last time he hadn't come home feeling completely wiped out.

Hence the need to fuck Justin. He should've been too tired for sex - not that he'd ever fucking admit it - but Justin could always raise his flagging spirits, so to speak.

Brian just hoped the little twat was at the loft, instead of at 'home' with Daphne. Frankly, Justin's constant running around between both places was getting annoying, but he also firmly believed that he should do whatever the fuck he wanted to do. If Justin needed 'his own space' or whatever the fuck, so be it.

Still, as much as he didn't want to deprive the boy of his independence, he also didn't want to deprive his cock of Justin's ass.

As it turned out he needn't have worried. Sliding open the door to the loft, he discovered that the lights were on and - upon further investigation - found Justin sprawled out on the bed, legs spread wide with a butt plug poking cheerily out of his ass.

He smiled that famous smile. "Hard day at work, dear?"

It was at times like this that Brian fully admitted to himself just how much he loved the little shit.

Dropping his briefcase, Brian shed his clothes by the steps to the bedroom and just let them fall to the floor. A mortal sin at other times, but right now? Getting inside Justin's ass was a distinct priority.

Lowering himself to the bed, he climbed on top of Justin and kissed his way up his body.

Writhing, Justin made happy, content noises. "Mmm," he practically purred. "I've been wearing this thing for hours," he said. "Thinking about you whenever I moved, feeling it press inside me. Made me so fucking hard."

Brian could see that. "You're such a little slut." Biting at a nipple, he grinned when Justin grunted and arched.

"Your slut."

Fuck, yeah.

Finally reaching Justin's lips, Brian lowered his head and they shared a long, wet, open-mouthed and frankly obscene kiss that probably would've sent any watching heteros running for the hills. Kissing him some more, Brian slid his right hand slowly down Justin's side, across his thigh and down between his ass cheeks - pressing against the butt plug, hard.

Gasping, Justin broke the kiss and tipped his head back. "Brian..."

He did it again.

Shuddering, his whole body shaking, Justin's hand grabbed at Brian's forearm, stopping him. Looking down Justin's body, Brian could see that his toes were clenched together - a sure sign that he was close, barely hanging on. "You don't like that, Sunshine?" he taunted, turning back to study his face.

"Too much," Justin panted, letting go of his arm. Sometimes, when he was really, really horny, Justin started acting like he was almost drunk. He got demanding in bed, pushy - well, even more so than usual - his speech patterns reducing to mere syllables.

This was definitely one of those times.

"Now," Justin demanded, grabbing Brian's sides and urging him up, "fuck me. C'mon. Now."

Brian wasn't about to disappoint the boy. Of course, there was nothing that said he couldn't be evil about it.

Finding the butt plug again, his fingers gained a good hold on the exposed end and started pulling it out.

Slooooooooooooooooooooooooowly.

Justin wasn't amused. "Brian."

And he turned it, just for fun.

"Brian!"

Almost snickering by that point, he finally pulled the butt plug completely free. Ignoring the glare Justin was shooting him, he instead found himself fascinated by staring at the open, glistening hole he'd soon be burying himself in - and decided, then and there, to stop the torturing and get on with the fucking.

Everything was in its place, of course, so Brian grabbed a condom from the bedside table, ripped it open, and rolled it onto his dick. Flipping open the lube, he squeezed out a healthy dollop onto his hand and smoothed that over the condom. He doubted they'd need much - Justin had obviously prepared himself well - but he wanted to do what he could to ensure a smooth ride.

That was exactly what he got. Throwing the lube back onto the table and wiping his hand clean on the sheet, Brian took hold of Justin's thighs, spread them wide, and entered in one quick, brutal thrust.

Pure heaven, as Justin groaned and pulled him closer, bliss, as he thrust into Justin again and again, and Christ, no one else felt like Justin, no one else even fucking *compared*.

Eyes closed, concentrating on the feel, Brian listened as Justin's breath came out in short pants - but then his breath faltered, and Justin was slapping at his shoulder frantically and Brian snapped open his eyes.

Clutching at Brian with one hand, the other was clutching at his own throat, and Brian knew instantly that the sheer, blind terror showing on Justin's face was being reflected on his own. It'd been years since this'd happened - and never this bad - but he sure as fuck knew what it was.

Justin couldn't breathe.

Pulling out suddenly had to hurt like fuck, but Brian did it anyway, yanking out of Justin and throwing open the drawer in his bedside table, hands fumbling inside but coming up empty. Where the fuck was the EpiPen? They always kept one nearby, and now it wasn't fucking there!

Climbing over Justin, Brian yanked open the drawer in the other bedside table and still couldn't find the fucking thing. Tugging a hand fiercely through his hair, he ran across the bed and jumped over Justin, heading for the bathroom. Maybe the little shit had moved it into the bathroom cabinet and hadn't-

A loud crash behind him grabbed Brian's attention, and he turned to see that Justin had thrown the alarm clock onto the floor and was pointing frantically in the direction of the sofa. Setting off immediately, Brian ran out of the bedroom and across the loft, stopping by the sofa and immediately seeing Justin's bag.

Justin's bag. He was so fucking stupid!

Grabbing it, Brian thudded back into the bedroom and immediately ripped the bag open, turning it upside down and dumping the contents onto the bed. Throwing the bag to one side he started going through Justin's pile of crap, searching for anything the right size. Justin was seriously starting to turn a bad colour as Brian found, and rejected, three writing pens - how many pens did the fucker need? - and then he finally, finally found the fucking EpiPen.

Justin had shown him how to use one a while ago, in case he was ever unconscious and needed an injection, and Brian moved on pure instinct - taking it out of its container, pulling the safety release, and jabbing the EpiPen into Justin's thigh. Fumbling for Justin's hand with his free one, he studied his face as he counted to ten. Already Justin didn't seem to be struggling so hard, and when Brian removed the pen and massaged his thigh for another count of ten, he started taking in huge shaky, gaspy breaths.

Relief made Brian's hands shake as he reached out to touch Justin's shoulders. "Don't try and talk. You breathing okay?"

Nodding, wide-eyed, Justin heaved in another great breath.

"Good." His hands tightened momentarily as he met Justin's gaze. "I'm calling 911. I'll be right back." Waiting for another nod, Brian hoisted himself up from the bed and found the phone. He didn't know what the fuck had set Justin's allergy attack off, and told the call operator that. Justin may have had a list of allergies a mile long, but he was good at handling them - didn't have much of a choice, really.

After hanging up Brian made a quick call to Jen - probably a bad idea because she immediately turned hysterical, but he told her to meet them at the hospital and ended the call. Returning to the bed, Brian put the EpiPen safely back in its container - he'd been told they should bring it with them to the hospital. Wanting to hold Justin but worried about restricting his airflow in any way, he leant in and kissed the side of his head. "The paramedics are on their way. How you doing?"

Still looking far too pale and sweaty, Justin slid towards him until he was resting against Brian's shoulder. Appreciating the contact, Brian started breathing in rhythm with him, not really sure if it was helping or not, but it definitely made him feel better. "You think you're up to putting some pants on if I help?" Justin nodded, the breath wheezing in and out of him. Personally, Brian didn't care if anyone saw Justin naked or not, but if it got them to the hospital faster he'd do whatever he could.

"And Justin?" he continued with an angry voice. "From now on you tell me where the fuck your EpiPen is at all times."

There was no argument about that. There didn't need to be.

Good. Brian had never been so fucking terrified.

Jennifer was already at the hospital by the time they arrived.

"Justin!" she yelled, running towards them. "Justin, sweetheart!"

"He's okay, he's okay," Brian told her, "let 'em go do their jobs," he insisted, the two of them grasping onto each other, watching as Justin was taken away. It was frustrating as fuck just standing there, but he knew it was best to stay out of the way - at least for now.

"What happened?" she demanded, turning towards him. "What were you doing?"

Yeah, this was a fun conversation. "We were alone at my place. What do you think we were doing?"

That made her pause, but the Jennifer of today dealt with that implication much better than the Jennifer of three years ago would have - she simply frowned. "Well...were you using fruit or something? Because strawberries make him-"

"Jennifer," he interrupted, seriously not in the mood for this, "there was no fruit involved anywhere. Believe me, I know all about Justin's allergies, and shared that information with the paramedics on the way here. It was completely normal, non-kinky, vanilla sex." He decided not to mention the butt plug. Justin probably wouldn't appreciate that.

"Somehow I doubt anything with you is normal," Jennifer retorted, staring down the hallway Justin had vanished through. When a nurse came up to her with a clipboard, she jumped. "Oh!"

"Excuse me, Mrs Taylor?"

"Yes?"

The guy held out the clipboard. "If you wouldn't mind, we need your son's information and insurance details."

"Of course," she said taking it from him. "Would you be able to let us know when we can go and see him?"

"Sure, not a problem," he answered before his gaze flicked to Brian, silently questioning. "If the doctor doesn't let you know, I'll find out for you."

The look Jennifer gave him could've frozen hell. "This is Brian. My son's boyfriend. And if you don't let him go and see Justin, I'll sue the ass off of this entire-"

"Hey, hey," the guy held his hand up, "take it easy, lady. I'm just curious by nature." Slinking away, he was probably making a mental note to avoid her at all costs.

Brian felt vaguely smug. "Thanks, Mom."

"Don't start," she eyed him, wielding the clipboard, "you're the one who nearly fucked my son to death."

In one of life's massive ironies, Justin turned out to be allergic to latex.

The very concept boggled Brian's mind. "But we've always used condoms. There was no sign of a latex allergy before."

"Well," Dr Shepherd shrugged, "it is a little unusual, but not entirely unheard of, especially in someone with Justin's history of allergies. As you say, there's usually smaller warning signs before it reaches the severity of anaphylaxis - itchy skin, sneezing or coughing, which can often be mistaken for hay fever symptoms. Dermatitis, especially if you wear latex gloves a lot. But sometimes there is an instantaneous allergic reaction - as in your son's case," he finished, turning to Jennifer.

"How's he doing now?"

"He seems to be breathing quite well on his own," he smiled. "Fortunately a tracheotomy wasn't necessary, thanks to the epinephrine administered at the scene. He was given oxygen in the ambulance, and we're keeping a close eye on him in case he needs it again. There's about a four hour window after the first attack where there's a risk of the anaphylaxis reoccurring, but he seems to be doing well."

Jennifer's face fell. "It could happen again?"

"There is a risk, yes," the doctor nodded, "but as I said we're keeping a close eye on Justin, and are administering some IV fluids that'll help. To be honest, I don't think a reoccurrence is likely."

"Thank God," she breathed, slumping against Brian. "Can we go and see him?"

Dr Shepherd regarded them for a moment. "All right, but not for long. His body's been through an extremely traumatic event - he's likely to be exhausted."

"Of course," Jennifer assured him. "I just want to see him for myself."

Justin's hospital room was about as interesting as hospital rooms got - beige walls, absolutely no decor of any kind. Justin didn't seem to care, lying on the bed with his eyes closed, an IV hooked up to his left hand.

He looked like shit.

Rushing towards the bed, Jennifer carefully took Justin's hand, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

Brian kindly ignored her sniffling and the way her eyes watered. "He'll be fine, Jennifer. He's stronger than anyone I know."

"I know, I know," she nodded, running a hand over Justin's hair. "He's just...he's still my little boy."

Brian couldn't - didn't want to - imagine anything like this ever happening to Gus, and completely understood.

Walking to the other side of the bed, Brian held on to Justin's free hand, bending down at the knees himself. "Little drama queen," he murmured. "Always dying for attention."

"Got yours, didn't I?" Justin's voice whispered, and Brian's gaze snapped up to see his open eyes.

"Sweetheart!" Jennifer declared, leaning in to kiss him again - another three times, in fact.

"Mom..." Even pale, sweaty and exhausted, Justin could still sound like a typical kid even when he was anything but.

She didn't apologise, just whispered how much she loved him, and that everything was going to be fine.

That wasn't the kind of line Brian used. "So, I hear regular old condoms aren't good enough for you anymore."

Justin managed a small smile. "Apparently not," he blinked slowly.

Brian nodded. "I guess a princess like you figures you deserve the fancy, non-latex kind. Always wanting the best of things."

His smile got bigger. "I got you, didn't I?"

And damn if his insides didn't feel like they were about to burst out of his chest.

This was why he didn't do romance. The imagery was gross.

"Get some sleep," Brian ordered, bringing an end to any implied sappiness. "And think about the consequences of your actions, young man. Scaring me like that mid-fuck? I may never get it up again."

"Yeah, right," mother and son said together.

As soon as Justin fully recovered and was allowed to go home, they turned out to be right.

~FINIS

Sequel