Chapter 14 - Deconstruction.
Brian moved his right hand up onto the trick's shoulder in order to steady the guy. In part because of Brian's expert fucking skills, and partly because the twenty-something gym bunny who he'd cajoled into joining him in the backroom of Babylon was just a lightweight with no staying power, the guy had already shot his load and was now barely able to stand. Brian himself was only just getting into his groove. No way was he about to let the trick go before he'd gotten his own satisfaction. Hence the need to prop the guy up with one hand while Brian continued to grip his hips with the other as he plowed the fit gym bunny ass.
Pinning the big beefy bunny to the wall seemed to work. Once the guy was immobilized and not flailing around the way he had been before he came, Brian began enjoying himself more thoroughly. He really disliked a guy who didn't know when to keep his ass still - literally. Now though, Brian could concentrate on his own rhythm rather than on trying to check his trick's.
*Ahhhhhhh* That was much better. Ten strong thrusts later and Brian felt the telltale signs of his own impending orgasm. Finally. His balls tightened up. His breath hitched for one moment. Then the familiar wave of pure pleasure rolled over him and blocked out, momentarily, his dissatisfaction with the trick, his life and anything else that had been bothering him.
It was only a short respite from the plague of worldly annoyances, though. Even before he'd totally caught his breath, Brian became aware that the gym bunny was squirming around again. He shook his head and rolled his eyes at the rude interruption of his fleeting moment of bliss. Brian quickly pulled out - not taking any care to do it slowly and not giving a damn that he caused the trick discomfort in the process. He tossed the tied off condom into the trash bin next to the door on his way out and headed back to the bar without even a glance at the disappointing trick.
"Gee whiz, Brian! That's, like, your third trip to the back room already and we haven't even been here two whole hours," Michael commented as his extremely popular friend sidled up to the bar, the negativity of his words belied by the adoring and almost reverent look in his eyes.
"Fourth, actually," Brian replied with a lascivious wink. "You know that skinny blond kid who seems to practically LIVE in the backroom - I think his name is 'Todd' or something - well, I let him blow me before you got here. Sort of like a warm up for the rest of the night and all," Brian added, playing to his audience just a bit.
"Fuck, Brian . . ." Michael was too awed to come up with the words needed to respond.
Brian smiled down at his longtime friend. Michael was still a shy little virgin himself, in spite of the fact that Brian had been bringing him along to the clubs on Liberty Avenue since Brian's eighteenth birthday a few months ago. So far the kid hadn't even rustled up enough courage to dance with anyone, let alone actually fuck someone. Instead, Michael spent his time trotting along at Brian's heels like a lost little puppy, holding his friend's drinks when needed, acting as the permanently designated driver and living vicariously through the tales of his Idol's sexual exploits.
Brian, of course, didn't mind the ego boost he got from being so idolized. In fact, he often exaggerated his experiences just a tad - it had become almost a game to see how much he could shock poor Mikey. The way Michael bragged to others about Brian's exploits was about on par with the way he talked about those superheroes in his favorite comics. Even when Mikey's fawning got a little too obsequious, it was hard NOT to feed into those fantasies. Brian liked how important it made him feel.
Brian waved to Ike, his favorite bartender, and held up his empty beer bottle in a mute gesture that clearly indicated he was ready for another. Brian let Ike fuck him every couple months and Ike kindly ignored the fact that Brian was underage. It was a good system. Everyone's needs were met; Brian got to drink, Ike got to fuck a hot twink and everybody went home happy. As far as Brian was concerned, that was just another of the costs of living the life he'd chosen. Lucky for Brian, sex was a currency he understood and had an endless supply of.
As soon as Ike handed over his fresh beer and Brian had taken that first slow swallow, he tuned back into whatever it was Michael had been babbling about while he'd been distracted.
"I just can't believe you're leaving for college tomorrow. It's, like, the end of an era or something. I mean, it's really gonna suck around here without you, Bri," Michael was whining as he sipped at his own diet Pepsi.
"You make it sound like I'm going off to Timbuktu or something, Mikey. I'm just moving into the dorms on campus," Brian interrupted with a chuckle. "You DO know I'm only going to be at Pitt, right? I mean, it's less than five miles away from your Mom's house, Mikey. Plus, I'll still be picking up the occasional weekend shift at the Diner - at least till I find something on Campus."
"I know, but you won't exactly be around much anymore, Bri. I won't get to see you everyday like in high school. And I bet you're going to be too busy to hang out - you'll be studying shit all the time and playing soccer and going to college parties and all that crap . . . Meanwhile, I'll just be working my ass off as the lowliest stock boy at the Big Q and living at home with Ma. Fuck, this just SOOOO sucks." The whining went on.
"I'm not going to totally fucking disappear, Mikey," Brian tried to reassure his friend, even though he knew Michael had a point. "Besides, I thought you were going to take some classes at Allegheny Community College and maybe go on to university yourself in a year or two. Between working full-time and taking classes, it's not like you're gonna be bored or anything, Mikey."
"But it's not ever going to be the same, Bri," Michael insisted. "I'll miss you."
"Fuck, Mikey. You're so pathetic," Brian shook his head, uncomfortable with his friend's display of so much messy emotion. "You know I'll still love you right?" Brian said with a half-serious smirk, trying to ease the situation. "Always have . . ."
"Always will?" Michael replied, questioningly.
"Come here, Mikey," Brian wrapped one arm around his shorter friend's shoulders, pulling him in and leaving a big, sloppy, wet kiss on Michael's lips - anything to distract him from more overly sentimental discussions like that one. "Now, will you stop with all the whining so I can enjoy my last night of freedom before I head off into the deepest darkest jungles of academia, Mikey?"
Michael playfully pushed Brian away, as if the kiss meant as little to him as Brian made it seem. Brian pretended not to notice the way Michael continued to gaze up at him with a strange, doting glint in his dark brown eyes, or the way the smaller man kept his arm wrapped possessively around Brian's waist even after several minutes. Brian thought to himself that it was a good thing he WAS off to college tomorrow, if only to give him a little space and time away from Michael. He owed Michael and Debbie so much - he didn't think he would have survived the past few years without them - but all the attention was sometimes suffocating. Right now being a perfect example.
Time for Brian to make a break for it.
Brian quickly turned around so his back was to the bar and, in the process, he dislodged Michael's arm from his waist. He quickly scanned the dance floor for a likely distraction. About twenty meters away he saw a tall, slender, dark-haired beauty, his shirt tucked into the back of his belt, with big muscular shoulders and a nicely rounded ass. As a distraction, he'd do nicely!
"Aha! My next victim," Brian announced before Michael could start into another emotional spiel. Brian drained the rest of his beer, set the empty on the bar and winked at his friend before sauntering off towards the boy waiting for him on the dance floor. "See you in a bit, Mikey!"
Michael watched Brian as he wended his way through the crowd with assured ease. The expression on Michael's face was hard to read. There was admiration mixed with disapproval. There was longing, lust and need. All of which were intermixed with more than a smattering of jealousy.
As soon as Brian reached the guy he'd been targeting, leaning in so he could mold his long lean body up against that of his prey, Michael turned back towards the bar. He'd seen Brian's act before - many, many times. The outcome was already a foregone conclusion. No need to watch it play out again.
Several other pairs of eyes, however, remained fixed on the tall, auburn-haired youth's movements.
~**~**~**~**~
One pair - a bright crystal blue - was full of protective sadness. Justin had been keeping his distance from Brian ever since he'd been ordered away on his charge's disastrous birthday. He was trying to respect Brian's request that Justin butt out of his life. Sometimes it wasn't that easy, though.
Granted, Brian wasn't in constant physical danger anymore. The sad, sensitive, auburn-haired little boy that Justin had once kept company with after each of Jack's beatings was now a big, strapping, well-built man. Brian had proven he could hold his own against school bullies, cheating ex's, heartless teachers and even his abusive father. He was physically strong. To look at him, no one would ever consider Brian weak or defenseless. But no matter how strong his body was, Justin knew Brian was still deeply vulnerable on the inside.
What had Justin worrying more and more these days was the way Brian seemed to be closing himself off emotionally. Every day, the boy Justin loved grew colder and more cynical. Brian had never trusted easily, but now, with the exception of Michael and Debbie, he didn't seem to trust anyone. Brian's disdain for the rest of humanity was destroying his innate compassion and making him cruel.
What he'd done to his ex, Lars, was just one, albeit glaring, example of the unwanted changes Justin saw in Brian. It was the little things that Justin glimpsed every day that had the blond guardian even more worried. It was the indifference with which Brian treated the men he used for sex. It was the contempt in Brian's eyes when he looked at others. It was the way his boy seemed to want to isolate himself from anyone who offered him even a modicum of kindness. It was the sarcastic pessimism with which he looked at life in general these days.
This new, harder-hearted Brian, was what worried Justin more than anything. Brian's life was really just beginning. He was heading off to college. His education, his career, his future, were all there waiting for him. The youth should be optimistic, happy and looking forward to the next day.
So why was Brian acting even more depressed than usual? Why was the kid drinking and fucking around like this was his last night of freedom. To look at him you'd think he was dreading his bright and shining future.
This was NOT what Justin wanted for his Brian. But how did you protect someone's heart? How could he prove to someone who'd been hurt as often as Brian had that it was still possible to find love and happiness? How did you teach trust? Justin felt like he'd failed miserably in his promise to keep Brian safe. But what else could he do?
Unfortunately, all Justin could do was wait and watch and hope that the cruelty growing in Brian's soul wouldn't suffocate the goodness he knew was still there.
In the meantime though, Justin found he couldn't bear to watch any further, at least not tonight. As Brian threaded his index finger through the belt loop of the dark-haired muscular trick and proceeded to tug the man after him in the direction of the backroom, Justin decided he too had seen enough. It wasn't so much that Brian was off to fuck yet another trick, it was that not even Brian seemed to find any true pleasure in the prospect. Seeing the almost vacant look in his young friend's eyes as he led the trick away from the dance floor made Justin's heart ache. He couldn’t watch. It was better to just let himself fade away again . . . At least until Brian truly needed him and he could hopefully do some real good.
And so, the kind, crystal blue eyes disappeared, leaving only two other sets of eyes focused on Brian’s continued progress to the back with his trick.
~**~**~**~**~
"That him?" asked the lanky, thirty-something man sitting at a table hidden by the shadows of the overhead catwalk.
His companion nodded his head as Brian and his most recent trick sauntered by, the motion causing the boy’s wavy coppery-brown hair to flop into his eyes for a second. “Yeah, that’s Brian Kinney. Unfortunately.”
“Shit, Nielsen! From the way you were talkin’ I figured the guy was the devil incarnate or something. But I don’t see no horns or tail on that little beauty.” the older man said, his appreciation for the subject of their conversation more than evident in his voice and on his long oval face.
“Oh, he’s plenty horny, believe me,” the young man scoffed and raised his beer in a mock salute to the sight of Brian’s retreating backside.
“Hmmm. And here I thought this little job you wanted me to do was going to be a hardship,” the man with the mousey brown hair commented, raising his own bottle to join in the toast.
“He might not be hard on the eyes, Gary, but he’s still the biggest asshold you’ll ever meet,” the boy replied as he settled his beer back on the tabletop. “So, you understand what you’re supposed to do, right?”
“Duh! It’s a piece of cake. I invite the kid back to the party at the hotel and get him there using whatever means necessary. No problem. I’ve got this covered,” the man said with what he probably thought was a reassuring wink to his co-conspirator.
“Right. Then we teach the fucker a lesson. After I’m done with him he’ll regret fucking with me and spreading those damn photos all over school.” Lars’ little tirade was interrupted at that point by a sniggering Gary, who just couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the memory of the photo of Nielsen with that stupid elephant thong on. “Shut the fuck up, Gary. It’s not fucking funny. Because of Kinney and all the shit he stirred up I spent the last four months of my senior year at a military academy in fucking Scranton! Then I get back here and find out that not only did he not take any shit for his little prank, but Golden-Boy Kinney’s got a full-ride scholarship to Pitt. Well, let’s just see how he likes his little college send off party . . .”
“Remind me not to ever get on YOUR bad side, Nielsen,” Gary shook his head at the pure venom he heard in the boy’s voice.
“Just do what I asked and it won’t be a problem, Gary.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s practically in the bag. I’ll get him to your little shin-dig, Nielsen, but you’re gonna owe me big time for this, kid.”
“I already paid you for tonight's drugs, Gary. I don’t owe you nothing. If anything, you owe me for not squealing on you when I got caught with that pot at school that time. I could have gone to fucking jail, but I didn’t say a word, did I? No. So, don’t be giving me shit now, Gary.” Lars railed at the presumption of the older man.
“Whatever, kid. Only, I’m thinking that this here job is worth a little more to you than just the price of the drugs I got you. This is personal and I bet you’d be willing to pay just about anything to get your revenge,” the conniving older man said with an unscrupulous smile. “I’ll go easy on you though, Nielsen. Instead of cash, I’ll take my payment out in trade. Say, maybe, I get a piece of the young stud’s ass - after you’re done with it, of course - in partial payment for me getting him there for you. I’m thinking that sweet little ass of Kinney’s is tighter than it needs to be and could use a little extra attention . . .”
“Fine with me. After I’m done with him I don’t give a rat's ass what happens to the little shit. You’re welcome to my sloppy seconds anytime, Gary,” the young man rejoined with a spiteful laugh. “Just get Kinney to the hotel by one so my guests will have their entertainment before the night’s over.”
And, with a last nod to the other man, the young brunet chugged the dregs of his beer before moving off, leaving his partner in crime alone at the small, darkened table.
Twenty minutes later Brian was back at the bar with a fresh beer in hand regaling Mikey with anecdotes about his most recent backroom trip. Michael listened with awe to his friend's story, his emotions waffling between extreme embarrassment and sheer adulation. Fuck, the things Brian did were mind boggling to the untried young virgin. If only Michael was half as daring as his idol, the fun he could have . . .
Just as Brian was getting to the best part of his story though, this older guy shouldered his way between Brian and Michael in order to get to the bar. In the process, the newcomer's elbow knocked over Brian's beer. The bottle rolled off the edge of the bar and crashed to the floor, dumping its contents all down the front of its former owner.
"Shit! Watch what the fuck you're doing, asswipe," the now beer drenched brunet complained as he shook drops of liquid off his shirt.
"Sorry, man. Wow, I really got you, didn't I? I'm really sorry," the klutzy new guy apologized as he grabbed a stack of paper napkins and dabbed ineffectually at Brian's wet shirt. "Shit! Let me get you another beer - it's the least I can do, man. What were you drinking?"
"Don't bother. Just get the fuck lost," Brian was too disgusted with his now ruined apparel to deal with the guy.
"No. I insist," the oldster maintained and turned to the bartender with an order for another of whatever his 'friend' had been drinking.
The barkeep promptly handed over two more beers to the klutz. Then, while Brian and Michael's attention was diverted over the brunet's wardrobe issues, the man slyly dropped a small white pill into the open neck of one bottle. Donning a jovial smile, he turned and offered the doctored drink to the tall good-looking young brunet that he'd been targeting all night.
"Here you go. I'm really sorry about knocking over your other drink, man. Don't hold it against me, huh? I'm sorry I'm such a fucking klutz sometimes."
Brian finally looked up at the man who was holding out a fresh beer to him. The guy was a bit older - probably in his thirties or so - with a long oval face and a high forehead. The guy's bloodshot eyes were too wide set and his nose was too big for him to ever be considered very attractive, but he wasn't a complete troll either. His nondescript brown eyes were surrounded by lashes that were a shade or two too light in color, which made it seem almost like they were missing, but which at least gave the face some character. The guy wore his thin mousey brown hair longish - the lank curls draped past his collar - but he didn't really have enough hair to make the style look good. His shirt was unbuttoned one button too far, allowing two thick gold chains adorning a sparsely haired, not-so-muscular chest to show. To Brian, the man appeared to have been left too long in the 70's. The only really nice thing about the guy was the fact that he'd bought Brian a replacement beer.
"Whatever," Brian conceded, accepting the proffered beer and raising the bottle in a silent toast to the guy before taking a healthy swig.
"I wish there was something I could do about your shirt," the klutz continued on, taking advantage of any chance to prolong the conversation. "If you want, I could pay to have it cleaned for you. I don't think it's ruined or anything. It's just cotton, right. I'm sure that my dry cleaner would be able to take care of that for you, no problem."
"Forget about it. It's no big deal," Brian replied, turning away and, in essence, dismissing the man.
"No really. I insist! It's the least I can do," the intruder refused to take the hint and moved his own body so he was still in Brian's direct line of sight. "I'm Gary, by the way. I'm sure I've seen you around here but I don't think we've ever met," he said holding out his hand as he introduced himself.
Brian reluctantly shook the offered hand. "Brian."
"Well, nice to meet you, Brian. To new friends," Gary held up his own bottle in a toast in honor of making the boy's acquaintance. "Now, why don't you finish off that one," the man indicated the half drunk beer in Brian's hand, "and I'll buy you one more just to make sure there's no hard feelings. Okay? Hey, Ike, two more, please!"
Brian hesitated, not sure exactly what this guy thought he was up to buying him beers - if the dweeb thought Brian was going to fuck him just because he bought a couple rounds of drinks he was sadly mistaken. But, then again, who was he to turn down a free drink? Maybe someday, when he was rich and successful, he'd be pickier about who he let buy him drinks, but today . . . Well, what the fuck. Brian would take the drink and then deal with the guy later if he thought it bought him more than a few minutes of Brian's time.
The younger man gulped down the rest of the opened beer and accepted the second bottle with a noncommittal smile. Neither Brian nor Michael noted the sinister smile Gary hid by moving his own beer to his lips as Brian drained the last of that first beer. The sly glint in the older man's eyes didn't register either as they all three turned towards the brightly lit up dance floor.
"Well, I hope the rest of your night goes better after this, Brian," Gary offered politely. "Have you got any after-hours plans?"
"Nothing special," Brian responded as he leaned back against the bar and scoped out the men waiting for him on the dance floor.
"I'm sure someone like you will find something to keep you busy," their new friend offered with a suggestive snigger. "But, if you don't have any other plans, I happen to know of this party over at the Hilton. The guy who invited me promised there'd be plenty of entertainment, if you get my meaning. The dude's fucking loaded, you know, and he always manages to attract the hottest guys to his little get togethers. If you wanted, you could always tag along with me. The more, the merrier, you know."
Brian stood up and was surprised at the momentary dizziness he experienced. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes briefly. Shit, he felt a lot more drunk than he'd expected to be this early in the evening. He tried to think back and count how many drinks he'd had, but soon got distracted.
" . . . The last party I went to that this guy threw turned into a three day orgy, man," the klutzy new guy was still going on and on about the party he was off to. "And the guys . . . Well, the guys were . . . Just fucking amazing, that's all I can say. There was this one yoga instructor there who could suck his own dick. I barely made it home with my dick in one piece - it was almost rubbed raw after that weekend, you know . . ."
Listening to this Gary guy talk about the party he was heading to was making Brian even hornier than usual. "He could really shuck hissss own dick," Brian asked, noting in some far off corner of his mind that he was slurring his words pretty badly at this point and he should probably stop drinking soon. "I gotta shee that!"
"Well then, let's go. It's gonna be one hell of a party! I'm sure my buddy won't mind if I bring you along, Brian," Gary had already put his arm around Brian's shoulders and started leading him away from the bar.
"But, Brian? What about me? I thought we were gonna hang out tonight and all," Michael complained, pissed off that his friend was blowing off their last night together before Brian moved into the college dorms.
"Nother time, Mikey," Brian said with a dismissive wave to his friend. "Shomethin' came up. You know how it is. Places to go, guys to fuck. Shee you round, Mikey," Brian added as he stumbled along next to his new pal, Gary, who's arm around Brian's waist was now pretty much the only thing holding the young man up on his feet. "Shoooo, less go shee the guy who can shuck, I mean suck, his own dick."
"Right this way, my sweet little fucked up friend," Gary whispered as he walked Brian out of the club.
~**~**~**~**~**~
Brian woke up naked and alone in a strange hotel room. From the amount of light pouring in through the uncurtained window next to the bed it had to be fairly late in the day. He rolled to his side, facing away from the too-bright daylight, only to discover that even that small movement caused ripples of pain to jolt throughout his entire body. He thought it would be wise to lie still - maybe to never move again - but his resolve to become a statue was undermined by the foul stench of the section of bedding he'd rolled into. With a tremendous effort he worked to focus his blurry vision, only to discover that the pillow he was lying on was covered with drying vomit. Brian scuttled backwards in utter disgust, ignoring the pain his abrupt actions caused. Unfortunately, his movements were uncoordinated and in his breakneck attempt to get away from the foulness, he overshot the edge of the bed, landing in a heap on the dirty carpet.
That's when he really started to panic.
In his fall from the bed, Brian landed hard on his ass. And, while his body ached over pretty much every square centimeter, that fall brought to his attention exactly how much more sore his ass was than the rest. That pain was sharp and it wasn't just his muscles that ached, either. The pain continued up inside him. Gingerly reaching down with one hand, Brian felt a sticky wetness where there really shouldn't be. When he looked at his fingers, they were red.
He quickly looked away but not quickly enough to stem the nausea that the sight elicited. Slapping his other hand over his jaws to try and hold back the rising bile, Brian bolted towards to bathroom. He didn't exactly make it all the way to the toilet, but at least most of the puke landed on the tile floor instead of the bedroom carpeting. After that, though, he only managed dry heaves for several more minutes before he finally felt safe enough to move away from the porcelain throne.
Moving sluggishly, Brian crawled over to the shower/tub enclosure and hefted himself inside. He flipped on the water and huddled in the bottom of the tub while the lukewarm water sluiced over him. His mind was meanwhile likewise inundated with flashes of memory, unwanted images from the prior night, and pictures he didn't want to see but couldn't stop.
There were men, lots of strange, mostly faceless men. They'd given him more to drink, more drugs, then they'd started pawing at him. Brian remembered feeling as if he was paralyzed. He was aware of what was happening but felt helpless to stop it. He hadn't said 'No' to what was being done to him - he hadn't been capable of forming any coherent words. All he knew was that he was no longer in control. Not of his mind or his words or even of his body. And all those men had taken over, taken control, and he'd been unable to do anything about it while they'd used his body for their own pleasure.
Sitting there, now shaking uncontrollably, he tried to wipe his mind blank and just let the clean water wash everything away.
Sometime later - probably much later since the water was now ice cold - he realized that much of the moisture on his face was from his own tears. Brian didn't remember when he'd started to cry. He also didn't remember when the worried looking young blond who was sitting on the floor next to the tub had appeared. All things considered, Brian figured it was probably a good thing that time seemed to be slipping by more rapidly than usual. The sooner this passed, the sooner he could forget.
"Brian? Brian, please, talk to me. Please," the frightened voice of his longtime blond companion finally broke through Brian's consciousness. "Tell me what happened, Brian. Please. What's wrong? How can I help you?"
The caring fingers caressing his face and sifting through his hair were almost enough to break Brian a second time. He really wanted to give in to those sympathetic touches. He wanted to let Justin take care of him and make it all better. But he knew from long experience that nothing would help. He was alone. He was the only one he could rely on and he was the only one who could make it better for himself. He was once again in control and that was the way he intended things to remain from there on out.
With a supreme effort, Brian pulled himself to his feet and turned off the shower. He ignored Justin's beseeching presence. He dried himself with a threadbare hotel towel and then calmly proceeded out into the main room where he eventually found his clothing.
The one other thing he found in the hotel room was a pile of Polaroid pictures. Each one showed Brian being fucked by a different man. The one on top of the stack was the only one that contained a familiar face - his former 'boyfriend', Lars - sneering at the camera while he skewered an apparently unconscious Brian.
Written on the edge of the picture in Lars' familiar handwriting was the caption, 'Thanks for the memories, Brian!'
Brian crushed the photo in his hand. He dropped it back on top of the others and turned around. Without saying a word he left the dingy hotel room, refusing to look back. He knew he would eventually be able to put this too away into a separate compartment of his mind and mostly forget about it. That's just what Brian Kinney did. That was the only way he knew to deal with things. The only way he knew how to cope.
That was how he took control of his world and there was one thing he knew - he would NEVER relinquish control of himself or his world to anyone ever again.