The thing you need to know about a people given title, is that it can be taken away as easily as it was given. Yet, it is not the title per say that matters but what results from it. Life is much easier when you can walk into a room and everyone knows what there is to gain or lose. But like the seasons, things change, and there is perhaps nothing more fleeting than that of human emotions. Change is nothing if not an uncontrollable force, and thus it inspires unease in the hearts of those who seek ultimate control. 

His routine had become somewhat of a ritual, it kept him sharp, it kept him satisfied, but most importantly, it kept him sane. It is not that change unsettles him, it terrifies him. Why fix something that is not broken after all?

Lately however, the control he seeks seems to be just out of Brian’s reach.

It was a quarter to nine when he found himself walking down heteroville towards a classic heteromale bar, a place he would normally not be caught dead in. Yet, there he was. He took a deep breath, zipped down his jacket and climbed up the steps two at a time. He braced himself, then entered the bar. A cloud of smoke engulfed him as he stepped in, he breathed through it and located his father, whom, predictably was sitting with his buddies engaged in a game of poker.

Feeling like a nervous school boy he approached his father. “How is it going, Pop?” he asked, the words felt bitter on his tongue.

“Better days, and for sure better hands. Say ‘hello’ to the guys.” His father replied in acknowledgement. He hadn’t even bothered to turn to his son, his attention on his hand of cards.

“Hello guys,” Brian replied obediently, almost as if he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m out. I was bluffing anyway,” the old man said, tossing his bad hand on the table.

“As if you were fooling anyone.” Replied one of the elderly men on the table. Brian couldn’t help but grin.

Finally looking at his son, Jack Kinney stood up and patted Brian on the shoulder as he led him towards the bar.

“What’ll you have, sonny boy?” He asked.

“Beers good,” Brian replied.

As was customary he ignored Brian, instead he said in a booming voice to the room at large, “Hold your fire. A couple of your best scotches, Spike.”

The phone rang and Spike the bartender answered it.

“So how’s that scholarly job of yours?”

“My scholarly job is just fine. I can’t complain.” Brian answered a little derisively.

His dad let out a snort and said, “Leave the complaining to “The Warden.” If it was up to her, I’d never have any fun.”

He turned this way then that way, hesitated for a second, and then said, “Listen, umm-I’m, uh, a little short, you know, end of the month. I just, uh-”

Brian wasn’t looking at him, his eyes were focused on a spot on the counter, but he knew where this was going. He couldn’t help but give a tiny jerk of his head as he rolled his eyes pulling out an envelope of cash from his leather jacket before his father could continue. As he slid the envelope across the counter he turned to look at the older man. He took it, looked around as if to check no one was paying them any mind, and then shoved the envelope into the front pocket of his pants. Brian had been staring at him the whole time, only looking away when the envelope was out of sight. He hung his head despite himself and looked down at his manicured fingers. Then he placed one over the other, still avoiding looking at his father as he fidgeted with his fingers.

The older man turned to him and punched him playfully on his right shoulder. Brian turned to him then and pointing his finger at him the old man said, “You’re a good boy.”

Brian bowed his head still fidgeting with his fingers, a nervous habit he thought he had long conquered.

“I’m keeping strict accounts, every goddamn penny,” he went on as Brian turned to him.

“I know.” He replied slouching a bit over the counter of the bar.

“Mr. Best Selling Author is treating,” he said to Spike, whom had hung up the phone.

He served them two glasses of scotch. His old man raised up his glass, and Brian followed as they clunked them together before taking a considerable gulp.

“And don’t you work too hard, now.” His father was saying, his customary finger pointing warningly at him.

“Thanks for the advice,” Brian replied, trying to grin.

“You got to leave some time for the ladies.”

Brian scoffed, a real grin spreading on his face as he turned towards the bar.

“Oh, I always leave time for the ladies,” he said sarcastically raising up his right eyebrow.

“But don’t let ‘em tie you down, you hear?”

Brian gave a short chuckle. “Don’t worry about me, Pop.”

“Cause that’s what they all want to do, no matter what the hell they say.”

“I think I can handle it,” answered Brian sardonically, turning around and resting his left elbow and back on the counter. He tried not to slouch like a disappointed teenager but in the presence of this man it was like he couldn’t help feeling like that trapped little boy.

Jack finished his drink before saying, “You know, you…and me. We-we’re a lot alike.”

Brian locked eyes with his dad and said, “We are.”

He moved in closer and whispered. “We weren’t meant to settle down.”

The tall brunette chuckled cynically at that.

“Sometimes, God damn it, I look in the mirror, and I say, “Jack Kinney you dumb son of a bitch, you should never have been a family man.”

Brian snorted, and feigning nonchalance asked, “Then why did you? Why’d you marry mom? Why’d you have me?”

The younger man looked away as his father stared at him, not sure if Brian was pulling his leg or not.

He turned his head away from his son, scoffed and retorted, “Jesus, you’re a smart kid. You mean you never figured it out?”

Brian shook his head, those words, or rather the implication of those words wounded him more than he cared to admit. He moved to get the hell out of that dump but stopped when his old man called after him.

“Now, come on, sonny boy. Sonny boy!”

He turned to him, unable to hide the pained look on his face.

“You just stay,” said the old man in a commanding tone, then softening his tone continued, “Come on, have another drink with your old man.”

Brian didn’t move so he repeated, waving him forward, “Come on, have another drink.”

“Two more,” he said to the bartender without waiting for Brian to concede.

The younger man stared at his father, the hurt palpable on his face. He stood there, willing his tears back, but his eyes glistened with his unshed tears none the less.

Before he knew it, he was knocking on his best friend’s door, pissed drunk and unaware of how he got there. He took another swig of the bottle he hadn’t realize he was holding for good measure as Michael opened the door.

“Hey, sonny boy,” Brian said in a form of greeting.

He didn’t need to explain further, Michael knew exactly what was wrong.

“Oh, shit, you went to see your dad,” he said with a hint of worry.

“Hey, stay here and have a drink with your old man,” Brian slurred, still standing by the open door.

“All right come on. Come on.” Said Michael coaxing Brian into his apartment as he wrapped an arm around his waist and he around Michael’s shoulders.

Brian went to take another swig of his bottle, but Mikey wrestled it out of his hands and it was gone. He assumed the shorter man had placed it somewhere out of reach, but he couldn’t even begin to fathom where.

“Well, we-we lost the game.” Brian sniffed.

“Uh-huh. Lift up your arms,” Mikey instructed.

“There we are.” Brian mumbled as he did as he was told, and Michael managed to strip him of his shirt.

“We had a 13-point lead in the last ten minutes.” Brian rambled on.

“Atta boy,” Michael said with a laugh as he tossed his white shirt aside.

Michael attempted to hug, console him, or some shit but Brian’s inebriated body collapsed back onto the bed, and he went on rambling.

“And the boys, down at electrical, they might strike.”

“You don’t say. Now your pants.” Instructed Michael as he pulled down his pants with practiced ease. Brian lifted his hips to help him, or at least he thought he did. “There you go.”

“Yeah, Tony Cattera’s thinking about retiring next spring, and if he goes, well, you know.”

“Well, good for Tony,” said Mikey playing along good naturedly.

Finally, his pants were off. “Now get in,” he ordered.

Brian did with much help from his best friend. Michael wrapped him up in is duvet and turned off his lamp before jumping over and climbing into bed with him.

He cuddled the taller brunette into his arms as Brian let out what sounded like half sob and half a laugh.

“You should have heard him. “How’s my successful son? I’m a little short on cash. Never should have been a family man.”

“That’s ancient history. Now, go to sleep.” Michael whispered as he traced soothing circles on Brian’s upper arm all the while.

Brian gave a mocking laugh and said, his voice breaking. “He never changes, not his bullshit, not his life.”

“When are you ever gonna learn? That’s else he is. That’s all he can be,” he said kindly, his fingers still tracing circles over his friend’s arm.

Brian wasn’t sure if it was his friend’s patience and kindness or the fact that he couldn’t keep it bottled in anymore. But despite himself he began to cry quietly, tears falling from his eyes, to his aquiline nose, to his cheeks and raspberry colored lips. Wanting, needing Michael’s comfort, he wrapped his bigger hand in his smaller one and let the sobs break over his body until he fell asleep.

Room S13 on Friday, Dec. 22nd 2000 at 1235 pm.        

He had been about to pull away from the wall and have a quick cup of coffee before his next class when the door knob turned. He heard a grumbled curse from behind the door, then a jingle that sounded a lot like keys. There was a click that signified the door had been unlocked and the knob was turned again as the door was pushed open. In came the compact form of Justin Taylor. He looked up and towards the window as if Brian’s eyes were urging him to find me. The blonde gave him a cheeky grin before closing and locking the door behind him. Even in his conservative uniform the blonde looked delicious enough to eat, his slacks surely were a size too small. No slacks should hug anyone’s backside quite so well.

Brian was in half a mind to say “Wait, I was just on my way out.” But didn’t.

“Hey,” said the blond walking over to him and pulling a cigarette from its pack.

Brian nodded his head in greeting but said nothing.

Habitually Justin jumped on the window sill, his legs dangling as he lit his cancer stick before turning to face Brian again.

“Having a rough day?” he asked pushing stray blond locks behind his ears.

Brian shrugged and leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment.

Last night had been for shit and this morning he had sneaked out of Mikey’s place before the latter had woken up. Even after the six Advil’s he had taken, his head was still throbbing, so talking aside from in the classroom was something Brian did not want to do.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” said the kid sucking on his cig.

 “Thank whoever the fuck, the two-week holiday is finally here,” he grumbled running a hand through his thick brown hair.

At these words he watched as the color instantly drained from the blonde’s face just as he let out a cry when the nub of his cigarette burned his thumb. Brian continued to watch as he disposed of it into an empty cigarette pack and sucked on the affected thumb. He told himself he was in too much pain to enjoy the way the full lips wrapped around his thumb and sucked. That was a lie.

“Yeah, right, great” he mumbled, thumb still in his mouth.

“What, too boring at Ma’s and Pa’s?” Brian asked just to distract himself from Justin’s lips.

“Not going to Ma’s and Pa’s. They don’t want me. Apparently, they’re too embarrassed of their faggot son.”

“Fuck ‘em.” He found himself saying.

Justin sighed. “Yeah except they’ll always be my parents, I mean a kid needs their parents you know, even if they annoy the shit out of you, and stick their nose in your business.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “You haven’t had parents for a few months now, you’ve survived.”

Justin ignored the quip and went on. “Even if my dad gets angry, even if he isn’t always there, is better than not having one at all.”

“Yeah, don’t be so sure.”

“Your father must have loved you,” Brian didn’t speak so he went on, “He probably just-He didn’t know how to show it.”

Brian laughed tauntingly. “Yeah, he knew how to show it all right, especially after he had a few.”

Feeling more irritable than the occasion warranted he pushed away from wall, growling, “Hurry up and get to class. Not all of us want to be here all day.”

Parents…some people just shouldn’t be parents. “Never should have been a family man.”

“Brian-“

“Professor Kinney,” he corrected sharply.

Justin grounded his teeth in obvious irritation, but jumped from the window sill, landing deftly on his feet.

“Look, I don’t know what has you so miffed, but I’m not your punching bag. Why don’t you go take it out on someone else?”

“What for when you’re so desperate for my attention you’ll let me kick you around.”

Justin gaped at him. “God, why are you such an asshole?! You know what no. Don’t answer that. You can go right to hell for all I car-“ But Justin didn’t finish his sentence.

In a moment of complete insanity, he had gripped (tighter than was necessary) the blonde’s wrist and pushed him against the piece of wall he had just vacated. He crashed his lips roughly against Justin’s malleable ones and growled his satisfaction into the depths of his mouth. Any man saner than he would have stopped then. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t.

Instead he flipped Justin over and slammed him against the wall at the same moment that he yanked his slacks and briefs as low as he could manage, without ceasing the ravaging of the porcelain neck. All Brian’s brain could register was the tantalizing smell of the blond, his throaty and needy little moans, and this overpowering need. This indomitable need to sink his dick so deep and hard into the quivering boy that he had become this mass of need with no other rational thought. No room for consequences, nothing, nothing at all but fucking the blond till his world started and finished with Brian.

In no time he was suited and ready, his dick leaking precum.

“I’m gonna fuck you, I’m gonna fuck you so hard your eyes will roll to the back of your head.” And then he proceeded to do just that.

Justin let out a yelp as he entered him, but he didn’t wait for him to adjust to the invasion before he was pushing into him again. Justin whimpered but made no movement to pull away. Taking this as a positive sign he pulled out, then back in, fucking him harder this time. The small blond let out a gasping moan and pawed at the wall as if at a loss to what to do with his hands. Brian solved that problem by entwining their hands together as he fucked his succulent ass.

At one-point Brian had grabbed Justin and pushed him onto a desk. His face and upper body pressed against the desk, his beautiful ass at a better angle for him to fuck as he dug his fingers into the tender skin at either side of the younger man’s hips.

Brian reached around Justin and began tugging on his dick in concurrence with his punishing thrusts. The older man felt Justin’s anal muscles tighten and his cum shoot onto his hand at the same moment that he threw his head back and came hard.

Panting and sweating Brian continued to tug on Justin’s softening dick as he slowly moved his inside the tight encase of the blonde’s ass as he rode the aftershocks of their pleasure. He only stopped when Justin whimpered and squirmed under him. The brunette released his dick but kept his own deeply buried in Justin. He wasn’t ready to pull out just yet. He pushed Justin’s sweaty hair away from his face and tugged slightly to bring Justin’s lips towards his. He kissed him long and hard and would have gone again if the little unconscious movement that Justin made hadn’t dislodge his cock from his welcoming hole. So instead he flipped him around and sat him on the desk as he kissed and kissed him. His breath was Justin’s breath, and Justin’s was Brian’s breath.

Breathless he pulled away from the saccharine lips and put their foreheads together as he pulled up the smaller boy’s slacks.

Brian took a step back from Justin and felt his common sense return as if it had been hiding in his gray trousers all along. He zipped and buttoned his trousers while grinning over at Justin who was struggling with his own button because his hands were shaking so badly.

“Let me help you,” he said but Justin put a hand up to stop him.

“Please don’t, I can barely function with you at this distance,” he croaked. He took a deep breath and then managed to right his clothes as he hopped off the desk. He almost collapsed when his knees give way but catching himself on the desk righted himself again.

“Fuck Brian, that was-just, fuck.”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” he quipped.

Though still a bit shaky Justin managed to give him that million-watt smile that felt like pure sunshine encircling you in its intensity.

Just to have an excuse to look away from his blinding smile, Brian looked down at his watch and let out an audible groan.

“Fuck, we are so fucking late. How do I look? Do I look okay?”

“You look hot, you always look hot,” responded the blonde.

Brian raised his brows and scoffed before dusting nonexistent dust from his clothes.

 “Come here,” Brian ordered and Justin obliged.

He fixed his tie and pulled back the loose strands of Justin’s hair back as they joined the rest of his longish blond mane.

“Now go on, your late.” He said grinning as the blonde grinned back, blue eyes shimmering with mischief. As the blonde turned to leave he couldn’t stop himself from playfully smacking his rounded buttocks with a sharp, open palmed slap. The blonde shrieked with laughter and then was out of the door with a “later.”

When the door closed behind Justin, Brian banged his head on it. The fact that his headache was gone was a short-lived relief.

He was an idiot, a fucking pathetic idiot. What the fuck had he just done? What the fuck indeed.