Brian understands perfectly what it means to be desired. For most of his adult life, it has been the thing by which he has defined himself. Men lust after him, line up to kneel before him and worship at his feet, or rather, worship at his cock. It’s a simple system really, fueled by lust, carnal pleasure, and not much else. Get in, get off, get out.

Brian Kinney: the best fuck in all of Pittsburgh and beyond.

But the thing with desire is, once you experience it alongside something that goes far deeper than simple lust, going back to whatever it was you had before is suddenly impossible. Or at least, it’s impossible to feel like it’s even remotely enough anymore.

Brian never thought he would fall in love, never truly believed in the concept of another human being having that sort of impact on him. Love was for pathetic heteros who couldn’t otherwise get laid, and Brian was far too busy fucking and sucking to even consider it for himself.

Then Justin came along, and everything Brian thought he knew about himself, about desire, about the bullshit concept of love and relationships, all of it was completely and totally fucked. Justin didn’t just desire him, he adored him, treasured him, loved him absolutely.

In the beginning Brian was convinced that Justin was simply blinded by lust, caught up in the rush of the very first cock he ever wrapped his lips around, too young to know the difference between love and fucking. But somewhere along the way there was a shift, not so much a change as an awakening. Things inside him he didn’t even know existed, things he had buried when he was a child, were suddenly laid bare before him, blossoming against all odds.

He would never give it a name out loud, to do so would only cheapen it, equate it to something fleeting, and what he grew to feel for Justin was so much more than that. It was something beyond desire, beyond feeling desired, lusted after. It was suddenly something to believe in, something constant, something that felt like it would live on forever, long after their bodies had returned to dust.

When Justin left him for the fiddler — Ian, or Ivan, or whatever the fuck his name is — Brian wasn’t nearly as blindsided by Justin’s decision as he was by his own reaction to it. He had always figured it was inevitable, that sooner or later Justin would find someone willing to give him all that fairy tale bullshit that most of the world equates with true expressions of love, but he assumed he would be perfectly capable of shrugging it all off, returning to life as it was before someone drew back the curtains and let the sunshine in.

Brian is completely miserable. Getting sucked off in the middle of the dance floor isn’t even doing much for him these days. Justin’s scent clings to every surface of the loft for weeks after he is gone, and while Brian eventually manages to wash him out of his sheets, he can’t say the same for the rest of him.

Everywhere he looks, memories overwhelm him. The couch where they spent lazy Sunday mornings, where they kissed softly and fucked hard. The kitchen where Justin always made a mess, but tried his best to duplicate his mother’s recipes for nights they stayed in devouring each other more than the food. The bed they shared every night, sometimes with others, always with each other. His home becomes a memorial to everything he always knew he never deserved, yet yearns for all the same.

The way they desire him suddenly feels empty, devoid of all meaning in the end. This is not the sort of worship one bestows upon a God. This is not the way he longs to be desired. This is drowning out the inevitable reality that everything is fleeting, that no one really gives a shit about you in the end, at best. And he will drown in it, will allow himself to be pulled into the undercurrent until he is one with it.

Shallow, vapid, lifeless. This is what he gets to cling to now.

He knew something like eternity, watched it slip right through his hands. He was warmed to the bone with his little glimpse of forever, felt desired, adored, needed in every sense of the word. His immortality has become a bitter stranger now, leaving him incapable of returning to who he was, who he has always been destined to be.

Brian Kinney: the best fuck in all of Pittsburgh and beyond.

Brian Kinney: sex God of Liberty Avenue.

Brian Kinney: the most desired.

Brian Kinney: miserable, mortal, absolutely lost.