CHAPTER 20: Teenage Dream: Katy Perry

You think I'm pretty/ Without any make-up on/ You think I'm funny/ When I tell the punchline wrong/ I know you get me/ So I'll let my walls come down, down/ Before you met me/ I was alright but things were kinda heavy/ You brought me to life now every February/ You'll be my valentine, valentine/ Let's go all the way tonight/ No regrets, just love/ We can dance until we die/ You and I/ We'll be young forever

You make me/ Feel like I'm living a, teenage dream/ The way you turn me on/ I, can't, sleep/ Let's runaway And don't ever look back/ Don't ever look back/ My, heart, stops when you look at me/ Just, one, touch/ Now baby I believe this, is, real/ So take a chance and don't ever look back/ Don't ever look back

We drove to Cali/ And got drunk on the beach/ Got a motel and/ Built a fort out of sheets/ I finally found you/ My missing puzzle piece/ I'm complete

Let's go all the way tonight/ No regrets, just love/ We can dance until we die/ You and I/ We'll be young forever/ You make me/ Feel like I'm living a, teenage dream/ The way you turn me on/ I, can't, sleep/ Let's runaway And don't ever look back/ Don't ever look back/ My, heart, stops when you look at me/ Just, one, touch/ Now baby I believe this, is, real/ So take a chance and don't ever look back/ Don't ever look back/ I'm a get your heart racing/ In my skin-tight jeans/ Be a teenage dream tonight/ Let you put your hands on me/ In my skin-tight jeans/ Be a teenage dream tonight/ (Tonight, tonight, tonight)

Songwriters: Lukasz Gottwald / Ben Levin / Bonnie Leigh Mckee / Katy Perry / Martin Sandberg

Teenage Dream lyrics © Peermusic Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Cypmp

Brian 

Okay so let's be honest here... I don't know fuck all about a first date. My first and only date was legendary in and of itself- well at least, it was for my date and the waiter. I only remember the events of the evening, but not their names. So, saying that I don't want a repeat performance of my extremely limited foray into the heteronormative dating experience would be a vast understatement.

Looking over to the clock display, I calculate the time three hours ahead before looking over to the man who has inspired both a high-level of anxiety, and excitement, within me. He's laying there sleeping with the peace of angels, while I am up again before dawn, trying to figure out how not to waste my opportunity of a lifetime. Justin is willing to give me a second chance- to give us a second chance- to see where all this leads. I don't want to blow it. Grabbing my cell phone, and walking over to the sliding door, I make a split second decision that will either make or break my attempt to give Justin what he wants...

Me.

Sitting on the daybed by the pool, and flipping open his laptop, I am startled at first by what I see and then mesmerized by the collage of photos and artistic renderings, which seems to chronicle mine and Justin's history thus far. I sit for a few minutes, looking at the drawings themselves: his first view of me as he stood under the streetlight; another close-up of me as I towered over him and licked my lips when he said he'd been to the Meathook before I asked if he was into leather; meeting Gus for the first time; my face as he danced on stage at the King of Babylon contest. But the one that stuns me the most is the one with him and Daphne, standing as they are watching my approach at his prom. It's the night I wished he'd remember, and the one I prayed I would forget so many fucking times. I wonder if he remembers all of it, and not just bits and pieces, but I won't ask him. I have to wait for him to tell me, if that's what he wants to do.

He may not even realize that he is remembering. And that produces a whole other set of problems for me. I don't know how I'll respond if he asks me to fill in the blanks for him. I don't know if I'll be able to do it mechanically, so that I don't fall the fuck apart in the retelling of one of the most beautiful yet tragic moments of our lives. But I know that I will have to answer him from my perspective if he's going to ever be able to make his peace with it.

I still haven't, but that's not most important; Justin being able to is.

Fighting the urge to slam the lid down on the laptop, and resolving to do what I came out here to do, I put the password JTBKBG9192000 in. I can't help but be thankful that, at least in this, Justin is still a creature of habit. The night he and I met along with Gus' birth was the first of many special moments, good or bad, and also one no one would actually guess since we don't talk about it in public much. I'm certain he never shared it with Ian, because if he did, then the fiddler would have known from the onset that he was like meaningless sex or like the Alphabet drugs of E, K, and GHB - a momentary high, and a diversionary tactic used when one needed to break from reality. After speaking with Justin yesterday, without all the accusatory anger between us, I'm more sure of it now than I've ever been.

That being thought, I dial the one person I know can help me not make a complete ass of myself, while giving one of the people who mean the most to me a day that he'll never forget. The phone rings and I take a deep breath, trying to strive for a modicum of nonchalance when I'm feeling anything but.

"Brian? How goes it in sunny California?" he asks, and I have to smile at the jovial voice on the other end of the phone. Even at eight o'clock in the morning on the east coast, I've never sounded so enthusiastic about life.

"It's been an interesting turn of events since my arrival yesterday."

"Oh?"

"Yes. A whole conversation without one of us yelling, snarking, or storming out, which is a major accomplishment for me and Justin. But he asked me for something that I have no idea how to give him."

"You? The master of words, images, and innuendo, is asking me for help? I'm touched and honored," he tells me. But even with our short acquaintance, I can tell that George Schickle's eyes are twinkling, and there is a small smirk playing on his lips. I really can't help but like the man. If Emmett Honeycutt is Pittsburgh's reigning Fairy Godmother than George Schickle is definitely proving himself to be my Fairy Godfather.

"He asked me for a first date."

"What do you mean by 'first date', Brian? Surely you and Justin have gone on dates before."

I bite my lip for a second, before answering. "We've been on dates, but never in the traditional sense of the word."

"Ah...let me guess, they were fucking dates then." At my stunned silence, I can hear him snicker. "Don't worry, Brian. Malcolm and I have been on a couple of those ourselves, but those days are long past."

"You're kidding me."

"Nope. Malc and I were too hot to trot back in our heyday too. It took some years, between us sneaking around behind Virginia's back to get our rocks off and finally after I left her, for us to become exclusive."

"What changed? I mean, if it's too personal, I'll understand." I couldn't help but ask the question. I never understood what made reasonably intelligent people trap themselves into a union, where everything could go south in a second after almost a lifetime of being together.

"Believe it or not, we did. It turns out that Malc is a top with everyone else but me, and vice versa. He was becoming unfulfilled, but was scared to tell me; same went for me. So ultimately he was tricking, because he thought it was what I needed to do. I was doing it for the same reason. It wasn't until we had a massive screaming argument that the truth came flying out from of both of us. We both had the same stalker, who thought because we both fucked him on separate occasions, he could insinuate himself into our relationship as our third. This person would show up wherever we were, and I thought it was Malc's doing. He thought the same of me.

"On this particular night, we were at the movies and I went to the bathroom, only to return to see the asshole sitting in my seat, kissing Malc. I left the theater and went home, leaving Malcolm to find his own way there. I accused him of wanting the guy, and Malcolm told me that he kept asking when I was coming back from the bathroom, so that we all could leave and fuck. He asked when he was moving in- the whole nine yards- and that was when Malc told me flat out that I had to choose what I wanted. I told him the same thing, because I was becoming pissed to see him with someone else. We made the decision right then and there to be together exclusively, and haven't looked back."

I thought about all of my possessive tendencies towards the sleeping man in the house. It was funny, but towards the end, I found myself getting more and more territorial of Justin. Where watching him fuck someone into oblivion before was fun and hot, it began making me feel like I had something to prove to him after it was done. I think back to that guy Eric, whose cherry Justin took, the same twink who had come to Babylon not two weeks later, when I fucked him. The only thing I think that curbed his tendency toward stalking Justin and I was that he saw us fucking in the backroom, and tried to join in.

Both of us laughed and told him to fuck off loud enough that there wasn't a doubt that he didn't have a shot to replace either one of us in our bed. Nor did he have the experience to even be considered a third in our non-relationship; not that we considered a poly situation in the first place. Based on the fact that Justin allowed the fiddler to turn his head, I would say that Justin was feeling that same level of disillusionment with the whole tricking thing, regarding me. Now that doesn't mean we're ready for monogamy or anything like that. But it does mean that we have to think about the reasons we're tricking in the first place.

Was it because we had something to prove? Was it just for the variety? Was it because we thought it was what the other wanted? George has certainly given me a lot to think about, and to eventually discuss with Justin. But right now, I'd better get back to the reason for this call so early in the morning.

"So George, how do I do this whole first date thing? I decided that if I was going to do it, I didn't just want Justin's undivided attention for a few hours during the evening, the way most dates happen. I want to do something memorable for him, especially since he's waited twenty years to have a first date with me."

Nope... Justin's never had one, not even during high school, and certainly NOT with Bowstring Boy.

George laughs at me over the phone. "Right, and Brian whether or not you admit to yourself, you've been waiting a lot longer to have a first date with Justin Taylor. Perhaps that's why your first attempt didn't work. The right company at the table is a surefire way not to fuck the waiter... or the cook... or the valet... or the..."

"I get it, I get it" I laugh. "No fucking anyone, but Justin Taylor. I think I can handle that, and he's definitely more than memorable in that department."

"I imagine he is. He reminds me a lot of Malc, in our younger days. Let me ask you something Brian... how much do you want this to work out between you?"

I ponder everything that Justin and I have been through in the last few years. Between his fucked-up home existence, the educational nightmares he's endured at the prestigious St. James Academy, my fucked-up relationships with my best friends which are just coming to the light, and the fact that we may or may not have children in common in a little less than two months, I would say for those mountainous reasons alone, I want Justin and I to work out. But I would be lying. I want Justin and I to work because I didn't know I was merely existing through life, until he showed up. I was always an overachiever, but Justin grounds me and gives me purpose.

He's an anchor, where I would otherwise be adrift. These last few months without him have felt remarkably like suffocation, in comparison to feeling like I can breathe freely when he's near me; when he's in my life everyday. Yeah I want it to work for so many reasons, but the most basic of them, is because he's Justin. "I want it to work more than anything, George," I answer, quietly.

"That's what I wanted to hear, my boy. And remember, that no matter the sacrifice of sanity at times, our partners are worth it in the long run. Justin and Malcolm are the type of men built for longevity; don't forget that. Now, having only been to California a few times by your own admission, I don't imagine you are very familiar with Malibu, are you?"

I smile at his deft change in subject. "Nope. I've never been there, although I know it's a coastal town."

"A very wealthy coastal town, my boy. I have a house there, which you and Justin will be staying in overnight or for the rest of the week; I'll leave that up to you guys. It takes about an hour to get there from where you are. Here's the deal, Brian... I will give you the tools to make this first date of yours the last one, but it's up to you what you do with them."

As George and I sit on the phone planning out the last first date of my life, the sun is beginning to make its ascent over the horizon. By the time we end the call, I feel better now that I have a plan and a schedule to keep. One thing is for certain: I am not now- nor will I ever be- built to be a man of leisure. I'm still lying naked on the daybed, watching the sunrise when Justin comes outside. He stretches and I smile as the sleepy, yet alert blue eyes travel the length of my body.

I extend my hand to draw him to me, fitting him into the vee of my legs. As he leans back against me, settling himself in and folding my arms around him, we relish the silence for a time. High above the city, everything seems so far away. I never thought I would love the sound of birds more than I like the sound of traffic, but I do. I can actually hear myself think, and Justin breathing, slow and easy.

I kiss his ear and breathe him in. Just lying here with him, in these serene surroundings, restores me and allows me to think clearly for the first time in ages. I find myself drifting back to part of the conversation with George.

"Brian, I am probably going to tell you the most important relationship advice I've ever heard or read."

"Okay. What is it? I'm not into the whole Shakespearean tragedy, suffer for love thing though."

George laughed again. "No. Nothing like drinking poison or slitting your wrists, is necessary. Besides who would I find to give me a kick ass campaign, if you did some foolish shit like that? No, this is much more simple and a lot more stable-minded than Romeo and Juliet. What tells you that someone loves you?"

"That's easy. Their actions tell me those things."

"How does Justin?"

"His actions and words do."

"And how do you respond?"

"It depends on what he does. If I feel he's trying to run my life or take care of me, I generally light into him."

"And yet, you do those things for him."

"That's different."

"Oh? How so? And make it good, Son, because I'm not following how it's okay for you to take care of him, but not expect or accept him doing the same for you."

Admittedly, I had to think about that. "When Justin does it, it feels like he's trying to turn into Suzy Homemaker or some shit. It feels so domestic that I feel he could be, and should be, doing other things. It almost feels like I'm back in Jack and Joan's house, where nothing is given for free, or without it being followed by some sort of hurt on the backend of it."

"Perhaps that's where the problem is. Misinterpretation of motives can cause hurt feelings and disillusionment. In a sense, you've projected those expectations from your past onto a man with no other motive than to show you the love he receives from you. And you do love him, whether you admit it aloud or not. What you have to do is figure out how Justin receives your gift of love.

"It's a lot like buying a gift for a woman, in a way. Most men would buy their women flowers and candy, thinking that all women like those things. But there is a certain percentage of the female population that has no use for such things, and would rather have a compressor for her car in case she gets stuck somewhere, and needs to fix a flat tire without a man's help. Buying them something practical and useful is more valuable than roses, which will die if not tended properly or candy, which gets eaten in about an hour. Had their husbands or wives taken the time and care to learn what says ‘love' to them, I think many more marriages would have a better shot of working out.

"Bottom line, you can't blanket ‘love', because no two people are the same. It undervalues a person as an individual, and ultimately backfires in unimaginable ways."

I couldn't help but think back to the aborted floor picnic, or Justin's words yesterday. "Justin told me that he didn't want flowers, but was searching for the same kind of intention from me. Does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense, actually. You were already meeting his physical needs of food, shelter, and in his case, tuition. What he was wanting you to show was that you put him first; that you thought enough of him to know that he was floundering emotionally. You've heard of the term, ‘It's the thought that counts.' This was a prime example of that. The floor picnic fiasco was the same deal, Brian. He needed to know he was important enough for you to forego Babylon, and just talk to him. He was looking for intimacy, which is not the same thing as sex, no matter what most people think."

Just sitting with Justin in the quiet, I understand what George meant now. The one thing Justin always asked for, after the... prom... was my time. Just times when it was just the two of us doing everything, or nothing at all, was all he wanted. But whenever we would end up doing something close to that, Lindsay or Michael would call. Work would be waiting for either him, myself, or both of us.

Enforced obligations of homework or Babylon would always be there to interrupt, or some other family crisis. It's no wonder why we were falling apart; we didn't know how to say 'no' more. And when Justin tried to, I couldn't. I wouldn't break my word to Michael and Lindsay. But in not doing so, I pushed Justin's wants and needs to the backburner, knowing that he wouldn't vocally complain or rail at me the way they would.

To love Justin, he needs quality time. He needs my actions, and sometimes, he needs verbal reassurance that he's as important to me as I am to him. Three basic things that shouldn't be so hard to give, but often seemed impossible for me to do for him. The funny thing is that I need some of those same things from him. For him to tell me I look good, touch me, or let me fuck him in whatever way I need to restore my equilibrium, and I'm pretty okay again.

But the fact that Justin wants to take care of me, is an added bonus. Although, admittedly I didn't always see it that way the first time around. He wants to be whatever I need in that moment where my world ceases to make sense to me. Such a simple desire, but something that I was never used to receiving. Well that has to change if I have any chance of keeping Justin Taylor at my side for good this time.

"We have to get up from here, Sunshine."

"I'm quite comfortable, thank you."

I chuckle at his haughty tone. "I'm sorry, but your human chair is about to leave the area in favor of a shower. I've decided that we are going to have a first date Kinney-style today, which means no work and all play. But we can't do that here."

"Why not?" Justin asks, as he burrows back into me, rubbing my semi-hard erection to full-mast.

"Because we'll just end up fucking all day."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, except that I made reservations and appointments. We have a ways to go, before we get to them. And I'm not cancelling them, so that you can be lazy."

He chuckles. "You do realize that this is a working vacation for both of us?"

"Of course, I do. But in the meantime, I am determined to show you that what you want doesn't intimidate me. This is going to be an all-day date, instead of that heteronormative tradition you were expecting. I don't do hetero, Sunshine." I can tell that he's intrigued now by what I've said, because he's stopped wiggling his enticing ass and is looking into my eyes, trying to gauge the truth of my words.

"You're serious?"

"As serious as Jen is about her pearls."

"Fuck, that's pretty fucking serious. So I guess we better get up then?"

"Guess so."

"But..."

"But what, Sunshine?"

"We have unfinished business first."

I roll my eyes mockingly. "Yes, you can blow me in the shower. How dare I think a growing boy like yourself can go without one of his daily doses of protein? Gotta keep your strength up."

"Uh-huh, and an old man like yourself should know better than to go without yours."

"Hey... watch it with the old shit." We both burst out laughing at my quintessential response to such a comment. "Come on, young man, off to the shower and then we're blowing this pop stand."

Justin helps me stand up and I can't help but grab him to me, delivering a good morning kiss which curls his toes. I drink every grunt and moan from him as he fits his lithe body into mine, grinding our erections together while he stands on the tips of his toes, so that I don't have to bend so far. Just having his sun-warmed skin next to mine in such a manner, arouses me in ways that words cannot describe. Justin has this ability to call up every possessive and protective instinct, which I work daily to suppress, to the forefront. The kiss becomes untamed and I know if I don't stop it soon, we really will be blowing the day I've got planned in exchange for countless fucks.

I've decided to take George's advice, and make Justin wait to get fucked. It should be an interesting day, since it will also be a challenge for me to be this close to him all day while suppressing the urge to ravish him at every turn. But I want to make this memorable for him in so many ways. I owe him that. Pulling back I say, "Come on, Sunshine. Let's get this show on the road."

After very satisfying mutual blow jobs in the shower- but when the hell is it not?- and some teasing touches while getting dressed for the day, we are on our way, and honestly, not a moment too soon. Another two-point-two seconds, and Justin was going to be wrapped around me... And I would have been his willing slave by letting him be. Damn this boy- young man- is dangerous when he sets his mind on seduction. I would say that the student has surpassed the teacher, but I think I still have a few tricks left up my sleeve that Justin Taylor is simply not prepared for.

One of said tricks- no pun intended- begins now.

"Sunshine, we have about an hour until we reach phase one of our destination. So I figured that since you didn't ask me much yesterday, you could ask it now." He seems stunned silent by the offer, and I resist the urge to cackle. I have finally managed to do the impossible! I've surprised Justin, who has always been on to me in some form or fashion. "Well go on, or would you rather put your questions in the form of truth or dare?"

That gets me an eyeroll, and a chuckle. But then, he turns serious. Since I'm driving he takes my hand, before asking the question that I wasn't really expecting right now. "Why do you trust Lindsay and Michael, but not me?"

I'm silent as I ask myself that same question. In light of the events of last week, I have been wondering that same thing. Is it that I like the abuse? Because that's what it is, what it was and what it's always been. "I don't, but for me to explain why it seems as if I do, Sunshine, I have to go back a long way. You prepared to hear it? Because I'll tell you right now, the story isn't pretty and it's not one that even Lindsay and Michael know the full extent of. Debbie doesn't even know all of it, the way she likes to believe. The only one who does is Vic."

"Brian, if it's too personal, you don't have to tell me."

And isn't that like Justin, to always give me an out. But he asked the question, and since it's all tied into the answer, I figure that if we're going to have full disclosure between us, this is the start of it. So taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, I begin to tell him where my trust issues stem from.

"You know some of it, regarding how I was treated by Jack and Joan. But there is more to the reason why she is always throwing her religion in my face, and I ended up at the business end of Jack-the-Hack's fists more often than not. Jack had a twin brother- a gay twin brother- named John." I let the implication of that revelation rest before I continue. "The funny thing about Uncle John is that he was always better than Jack at everything, regardless of the fact that he liked cock. He was born first, he was a first rate athlete and straight-A student. He went to college on scholarship for football and ended up playing tight-end for the Cleveland Browns, circa 1969. When he injured his knee during the playoffs, John decided to take his business degree and redirect his career goals. As a result, John started a sportswear company, manufacturing better equipment for practice and mainstream college and professional games. He would come to visit whenever he was in town on business, much to the dismay of Jack, who was a mediocre student at best, and spent his life working in the steel mills of Pittsburgh. An inglorious job to say the least, but still an honest living.

"To say he was jealous of John would be the understatement of the century. So when Jack knew John was coming for a visit, he would disappear into the nearest pub to drown his sorrows and lament what his life had become. According to Claire, Jack's main issue was that he'd gotten Joan pregnant and stunted any opportunity for self-improvement. He and Joan would fight the minute John left, and Jack would beat and have sex with Joan, something John would never do. Or would he? It wasn't an argument until years later- I think I was about seven at the time- that Jack had punched me for some imagined offense. John had jumped in and told Jack not to hit his kid, meaning me."

"I can just about imagine the stunned silence of that second."

"Yeah... it was so silent in the house you could hear a rat piss on cotton. Anyway, once everyone, including me, recovered from the shock, naturally a fist fight broke out between my dad and my uncle. Jack got beaten up pretty bad by the ‘fucking faggot' as Jack liked to call him. Several pieces of furniture got broken, and Joan called the police. To say that I was blamed for all of it would be an accurate depiction of why Claire and I weren't taken away even then. John made bail, whereas Jack sat in the slammer until he sobered up. Then he came home and he and Joan had it out. Of course she denied everything, but the implication was still out there that I wasn't Jack's kid. An implication that was completely plausible, because John did in fact, fuck Joan during a situation much like I had with Lindsay years later.

"John was out of the house when Jack arrived there, drunk out of his mind, accusing Joan of being an immoral whore, cuckolding him with his own brother. According to Claire, the fight between our parents went on for quite some time before Jack stormed out, leaving Joan battered and bruised. John arrived and was helping Joan clean up from several bruises Jack had put on her, because he thought they were fucking since she was so nice to John whenever he visited. Joan wouldn't stop crying and apologizing that John had to bear witness to the ‘aftermath of one of Jack's meltdowns.' John decided that a drink was in order, but it turned into many more than that. Claire's inherently nosy, but she was also scared out of her mind that Jack would come back and see them in bed together. So she crept into the room and woke Joan and John, before Jack came back. Of course, the cycle of a drunken fight and fuck ensued the minute Jack came through the door, and a little more than seven months later I was born. "

"And since twins basically share the same genetic markers, there wasn't a definite way to prove that you were Jack Kinney's kid."

"Exactly," I confirm. I'm amazed that telling him all of this is coming so easy to me, so I shrug and decide to tell him the rest of it. "And it only got worse as time went by, Sunshine. The more I achieved, the angrier Jack got and beat me for it. He stopped beating Joan completely, and focused his attention on the core of his problem. His faggot brother couldn't have possibly had intelligent male sperm when all he got was Claire, who couldn't get an A on a test even if she had all the answers. That was just too much to be borne, so he took the doubt about my paternity out on me, calling it making a man out of me. I didn't let it stop me though, since I was determined that I wasn't going to become the gay version of Jack Kinney- drunk, miserable and complacent in my own failure as a man, even a gay one. I knew I was intelligent, and refused to rest on my laurels to soothe his bruised ego. I got picked on just as Michael did, but the difference was that I wasn't afraid to stand up for myself. I had been doing it for years at that point, while mentally marking off the days until I could fly away from the Kinney coop.

"So while I was fending off the bullies for myself, I was also fending them off for Michael. In exchange, he would make sure that I went to the Diner and got something to eat that was actually edible; the shit Joan fixed would even make Jesus sick. Eventually, I blew the gym teacher, which you already know about. He was deeply entrenched in the closet, so I did and became his secret, in exchange for an open spot on the Varsity Soccer team. But I only let him fuck me after the championship game, where I scored the winning goal. I learned from him what a top was supposed to do, but I learned how a top was supposed to act from my uncle and Vic."

"So basically, Michael was your entry into Vic's world?"

"In a sense, yes. The other thing was that Michael fed my ego in ways that I needed, at the time. The deeper I suppressed whom I was as a naive kid born into the Kinney household, the more he stuck to me."

"A case of the ‘accidental best friend'?"

"More like intentional hero worship. Being friends with Michael taught me how to be a human chameleon and adapt to any given situation; how to turn a situation to my own advantage. In exchange for that, I protected him in any way I could. Same for Lindsay. Her friendship refined me, to a degree. From her I learned how to be a WASP, without having to take or pay for etiquette classes. In exchange, I helped her to learn how to live outside of the nest, and how to fight dirty when she needed to. When Rebecca Tucci dumped her, I was there to help her pick up the pieces."

"By fucking her?"

"That wasn't exactly how it happened but in a sense, I guess so."

He's silent for a time, and I'm beginning to wonder if I said too much. Hell, hearing my story from my own lips is a lot to take in, but he asked and I needed to tell him. Chancing a glance over to him as he stares out of the passenger-side window, I can see that he's processing all of my revelations. The making of Brian Kinney- Stud Extraordinaire- is a complex story to say the least. The making of Brian Kinney, the man, is even moreso, even while it's still being written. I'm startled when he speaks again.

"So what was the real reason you fucked Lindsay?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know that even drunk or high, you never do things without a definitive reason. What was yours?"

I smile at him because only Justin would dare to pick my life apart, and ask the one question no one ever thought to ask me. "I wanted to know if I was definitely gay, or at the very least, bisexual. I thought if I was bi, then life would be a helluva lot easier. I could date a woman, build a life with her, and only indulge my need to fuck an ass every once in awhile."

"So what gave it away that you were completely gay?"

"You mean, besides the fact that I fucked about nineteen guys after I left Lindsay's bed, in the middle of the night?"

He laughs. "Yeah, well there is that. But seriously, what was it?"

"It's hard to explain, but remember how you told me you felt after you fucked Daphne?"

"Yeah. I felt like a human dildo. Sure, I got hard, because I was a fucking kid, and our anatomy at that age isn't exactly known for having dick control."

"That's exactly how I felt fucking Lindsay. There was none of that primitive lust we feel when we're fucking each other, or even other guys. If I'm honest, the whole experience was pretty clinical. She came and so did I, but that was mostly because I was visualizing the hottest guy out of the three I'd fucked at the party before I found Lindz in the corner crying. I wasn't concerned with making it good for her, as much as I was concerned with getting my question about myself answered. Makes sense?"

"It does, since it was the same thing with Daph. God knows I love her, and if ever there was a woman in this world I would marry, it would be her, since our friendship is so easy. But I would spend my life with her living a lie, if I did."

"At least you feel that way about Daphne. I would never marry Lindsay, and I think that fact is more telling about our friendship than anything else."

"You know she's convinced herself that you would. That's why she had Gus and why she's done everything else, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. But oddly if I was going to marry a woman, it would have been one like Mel, or even your mother."

He looks at me surprised then. "Why? And my mother? Ewww!"

I laugh at his incredulity. "Sunshine, whether you admit it or not, your mother is a beautiful woman, who has lost none of her elegance, despite having two children- one of whom is almost grown- and a failed marriage to the wrong man. She's also a survivor and a fighter, even if it took her a while to remember that about herself. As for Mel, she's the only woman I know who is as career-driven as I am. She can verbally spar with the best of them, and is not afraid to call me on my shit."

"I wish she had done that with Lindsay."

"She did."

"Wh- what? What do you know?"

"Ted sent me an email telling me of all that we're missing there. Mel has finally put Lindsay in her place- back to the Petersons' house- to find the man of her mother's dreams."

"That's great, and about time too. But I guess that brings up the conversation we've been avoiding for a few weeks, huh?"

"Let's leave that for tomorrow. As for now, we're here." I turn into the parking lot of Oneta's, just off the interstate as George promised. "Come on, Sunshine. Let's get you fed."

He gets out of the car and walks in front of me. I can't help but watch his ass sway back and forth with that walk he has. Apparently, I'm not the only one as I notice a few other male patrons, watching as well. I can't stop the glare which enters my eyes, ordering them to mind their own fucking business and manners. I put a proprietary palm on his back and usher him inside, before I'm tempted to gouge out a few eyeballs to make my point.

"Brian, stop it," he says simply, looking back quickly at me and rolling his eyes before looking ahead again.

"What? I haven't done anything."

"I can feel the heat of your glare, even if I'm not its intended target for once. I'm here with you. This is our first date, so don't ruin it by having me bail you out of jail. Okay?" He turns to me again, and mesmerizes me with the full beam of the smile he has been named for.

I can hear several gasps from both men and women around the establishment we just entered, and I can't help but smile in return. Part of me wants to crow to them that he's smiling just for me, but I think they all know that since his eyes have never wavered from mine. I have the most amazing urge to fuck him right here; to give the entire restaurant the benefit of the Brian and Justin floor show, but I refrain. This is just about us.

So conceding I say, "Okay, Sunshine. Just this once, I'll behave. But if we have another waiter like the one from yesterday, all bets are off. Deal?"

"Deal," he answers, and then seals it with a quick peck of his plush lips against mine.

Before it gets to deepen, we're interrupted by a young woman who clears her throat delicately, and smiles. "Mr. Kinney, I presume."

"You presume correctly."

"Mr. Schickle called and told me to expect you. Your picture doesn't do you justice, sir."

"Thank you. George didn't tell me such a charming young lady was on the menu, or I might have traded this guy in for a new model." That earned me a laugh from her, and a slap in the stomach from Sunshine. "This is Justin Taylor. I believe Mr. Schickle has already placed our order, and requested a table for us."

"Yes, he did. Mom is already busy fixing up her southern style breakfast for you. She figured you'd be arriving about this time, so it should be out momentarily. I'm Colleen, by the way."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Justin says, turning on his WASP manners which come to him as naturally as breathing. "I think it's okay for you to call us Brian and Justin. Have you been in business long?"

She begins to usher us to our table. "Just a little over eight years. Mom and my grandmother started this place right after my dad left us. I'm in my third year of the five year BA/MA program at Pepperdine, studying Business. Mom figures by the time I graduate, we'll be ready to branch out."

"Well when you're ready, call me," I tell her, and hand her one of my business cards. I see her studying the artwork, and can't help but beam with pride. "Justin did it. Once he finishes his own degree, I'm hoping to snatch him up to work for me full-time."

"Brian," he blushes and shakes his head. It's a look that I'll never tire of seeing on him.

"What, Sunshine? Don't ever sell yourself short."

We arrive at the table, and I have to admit the view is breathtaking. The blue of the water is mesmerizing, but not as much as seeing Justin's response to it. It offsets the azure color of his own irises and I know based on his reaction, that with a blink he just snapped a mental picture which will show up in a painting in the near future. When he looks at me, I understand how blessed that water must have felt to have Justin's intent regard it, just for those few seconds. The ocean breeze is blowing through the open doorway, but it isn't so overpowering that it's knocking things over.

It lifts and shifts his hair, much like my fingers itch to do right now. Although the table is near the kitchen, it still gives me the privacy to do just that. He leans into my hand, never breaking the eye contact. Once again, I'm thinking how difficult it's going to be to keep my dick to myself for the remainder of the day. He is simply beautiful, and I have to think with the way he's regarding me, that he's maybe having the same thoughts.

Our waiter comes to the table to take our drink order and I have to say, he's nothing like that blasted Toby at the Thai restaurant. In fact he's fast, efficient and a consummate professional despite the fact that he's obviously gay, and is attracted to both of us. I heard him ask Colleen about the two of us, and his response was that he wished he could find someone who would go to such lengths for him, since his current steady isn't. It kind of reminds me of a conversation I might hear between Justin and his own bestie. But Colleen agreeing with him, lets me know that the talk with George has put me on the right track with Justin. 

Moments later our food arrives, and Justin is trying his best to glean information from me about what we're doing in Malibu. I refuse to tell him anything, but he's apparently enjoying the food enough that he lets my secrecy ride. I have to admit, the spread is pretty amazing with soft-scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, home fries with green peppers and onions, buttermilk pancakes, buttery grits so creamy they resemble the porridge my grandmother used to fix me as a kid, and fluffy biscuits. If we were back in Pittsburgh, I never would have eaten half of the things on this table. But it all just looked too good to pass up.

And I figure if I continue to play my cards right, I'll be working the calories off multiple times in a variety of ways tonight with Justin under and over me, deep into the night. So partaking of this fabulous spread full of carbs will certainly have its advantages. As for Justin, he's patting his foot underneath the table, and closing his eyes every luscious bite. His tongue is mercilessly molesting his lips, making sure to get every morsel of food and butter. Watching him eat has always been an exercise in patience and a prelude to every sexual fantasy I could dream up in that moment, but this...

This was a different experience altogether. The moans and groans he's subconsciously emitting with every forkful he brings to his lips has me ready to pour the warmed syrup over him, and lick him clean. Even the way his lips are caressing the glass filled with fresh-squeezed orange juice, has me about ready to explode. Based on the sudden tight fit of my jeans, if we don't finish breakfast soon, Justin is going to become dinner in more ways than he bargained for. Thankfully, Justin chooses this moment to push back a ways from the table, before I cum in my pants like a green boy with his first piece of ass.

His eyes are glazed and relaxed with this satisfied smile, playing at the corners of his full lips. I have to say that he's never looked more beautiful after an event beyond our sex life. I find myself wishing that he could stay in this peaceful well-sated state forever. The sun has moved a bit and it's shining off of his hair giving him an ethereal glow. I signal for the check and hand over my card. 

While we wait, he and I finish off our coffee, making small talk about inconsequential things, vowing that the next time we visit California at the same time, we'll make time to come here to Oneta's. The lady herself brings my card back, asking if everything was satisfactory. We assure her that breakfast was perfect, and exactly what we needed. She beams with pride and her smile is infectious. She wishes us a great journey and advises me that my next request is ready.

As we leave the restaurant, I remind Colleen to have her mother call me when they are ready to expand. I really want to start on the campaign immediately, since they have satisfied a food connoisseur like Justin singing their praises. But I settle for leaving a hefty tip for Colleen and our waiter, Jason. Justin and I chuckled at the squeals of delight we heard behind us. But I guess a two hundred dollar tip each would do that.          

We approach the car, but then Justin stops and turns me around to face him. Grabbing my face with both hands, he kisses me gently at first, and then more forcefully. I part my lips, allowing his tongue entry, and let him take complete control of the exchange. He pulls gasps, groans and sighs out of me as he changes the landscape of the kiss multiple times to keep me off guard, and show his appreciation. When he breaks off the kiss, I know that I'm the one now with a glazed look in my eyes.

Justin is the only man who could make me feel drunk and giddy by turns, simply by kissing me. And I think he knows it. Ordinarily, I would work extra hard to bring myself back under control to keep him from knowing. But I can't seem to slip the mask I've cultivated for years back into place. His smile is everything to me in this moment.

"In case I forget to tell you later for whatever reason, thank you, Brian."

Even though I was never one for gratitude- either feigned, real, or imagined- I understand why he's giving me his. "My pleasure, Justin." And it is... for better or worse; pass or fail, it really is my pleasure.

Moments later, we pull into the long driveway of George and Malcolm's beach house. He told me on the phone to take Justin in around the back of the house. When we walk around there, I completely understand why. I can't help but feel Justin, practically vibrating next to me, in his excitement. It's infectious, and I find myself looking even more forward to the rest of our time in Malibu.

Let the real adventure begin....