Part 1

The problem with Brandon was that he never really was into blond twinks – not that this was a problem per se. But since Justin Taylor returned from New York, he was completely different. Before he was gone, Brandon never looked at him with more than acknowledgement. But the guy was Kinney's favorite, so Brandon supposed he must had have something special, otherwise Brian Kinney wouldn't look at him twice. But now, looking at him, he could see clearly that the blond twink was gone. The new Justin Taylor carried himself with a natural confidence and grace that Brandon found enticing.

He wondered why. Since the night he went to Brian's flat, Brian Kinney started to intrigue him, because everything he thought about the man changed that day. He changed from the stuck up man with an over sized self confidence to someone with an intriguing personality, and a beauty impossible to ignore. That was why his relationship with Justin interested Brandon. He never understood how a man like Brian would be attached to a mere twink. But this new Justin was almost another person, and Brandon had to admit that he wouldn't mind to have that blond boy for himself at some point.

Still, he never approached the young man. Rumor had it that he and Brian were living together again. Brandon found that really surprising. After the marriage fiasco, he figured Brian would not want the guy back. And Justin, living in New York and having made quite a name for himself in the art world, would have no reason to come back to tedious Pittsburgh. And yet he could see them frequently at Babylon, lips and eyes locked on the dance floor. Sometimes they went to the backroom, sometimes to the VIP lounge. But always together, and almost always just the two of them; threesomes were rare.

All the guys suddenly started to talk about Brian Kinney's new routine since Justin Taylor had arrived. He wasn't inviting anyone to his loft anymore, and on the rare occasions that he tricked, he only allowed blowjobs. No kissing, of course, but none of them expected that, because it had been a long time, years, since Brian was seen kissing anyone but Justin. But what stunned them, and what annoyed Brandon even more, was the look of sheer happiness in the couple's eyes. Kinney was so pathetic, and he didn't seem to care.

To Brandon, it was all bullshit. And it was better this way, he concluded, because HE was the true king of Babylon, even if Brian Kinney was the owner. HE was the hottest guy, and the one who never allowed himself to get attached to anyone. He was younger than Kinney, hotter, more beautiful, and even if the brunet was richer, Brandon didn't mind. What he DID mind was the way some guys still talked about Brian Kinney as the Stud of Liberty Avenue, even if the lone wolf seemed to be retired.

So, when he saw Justin Taylor alone at Woody's one night, he wondered what was wrong, because the "happy couple" were hardly seen apart anymore. It was almost like a fucking honeymoon. He watched as Justin nursed one beer after another, and smiled to himself. He could smell trouble in Paradise. He wasn't going to make a move on the guy. Yet. But curiosity killed the cat, and Brandon was, like any gay man in the world, crazy for a good gossip. Even if no one knew that.

He approached the other man cautiously. Heading for the bar, Brandon sat beside Justin and asked the bartender for a Jim Bean. That earned him a look from Justin. Seeing a good opportunity, Brandon raised his glass in a greeting. Justin looked at him from the corner of his eye and raised his own glass in return.

"Alone?" Brandon asked with a seductive smile.

"I think it's obvious." Justin replied dryly, not looking at him.

Ouch.

"Where's your…husband?" Brandon insisted. He wasn't sure he liked the fact that Justin was completely ignoring his seductive smile. But he could tell by the way the blond leaned heavily on the counter that he'd already had a lot of drinks.

"I don't have a husband."

"Oh?" That was interesting.

"I have a…partner. Sort of. " Justin finished his drink with one last gulp and got up from the booth. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go," he said barely looking at the taller man.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he offered, although he knew the guy didn't need to drink much more to get drunk.

Justin eyed him wearily. "No, thanks."

"Oh, I guess you have to go home early. I bet your partner is waiting for you."

Justin looked him in the eye for the first time. "Who said I'm going home? I'm gong to Babylon." And then he smiled: a beautiful smile that seemed to illuminate the whole bar. His hair was short again, giving him a boyish look. "He'll be pissed," Justin added, almost to himself. He swayed a little but regained his balance immediately and headed for the exit.

Brandon blinked. What the hell was that? He had seen Justin Taylor smile several times, but in the dim light of Babylon it was never too clear. Here at Woody's was a whole different thing. He wondered what the hell happened for Justin go to Babylon alone. Trouble in Paradise, indeed.

Brandon finished his drink as fast as he could. He licked his lips, thinking of Justin's smile. That was the opportunity he'd been waiting for. He wanted to see that smile again. And he definitely would like to see it while fucking the young blond, even if only to find out what Kinney liked so much about him. He was Brandon Stuart, for fuck's sake! An opportunity like that came along once in a lifetime. Besides…he would love to piss Brian Kinney off.

--

Life was never easy for Brandon Stuart. His father, a constructor, died when he was five, leaving him and his four siblings with a woman who had never worked before. After months of not knowing what they'd have for lunch, or even if there would be any lunch at all, his mother found a job as a High School janitor. It meant they would finally go to school, because they got scholarships. But it also meant they were mocked by the other children because of their second-handed books and schoolbags.

Somehow, even being mocked, they all survived. Even him. He hated being pointed at. If they were going to whisper behind his back every time he passed, it would be because they envied him, because he was the best.

He was the middle child. His two older brothers and his two younger sisters were close to each other, and Brandon always felt a little isolated. His brothers were football players, his sisters were cheerleaders. None of them really paid him much attention.

It got worse during his adolescence, when he realized he was gay, because he had no one to confide in. And it wouldn't make any difference, because he didn't trust anyone, anyway. He looked at the boys and felt so different from them, but had no one to talk to. All he could do was observe the gay guys at his school. People always mocked them, so Brandon kept quiet. He wouldn't give them one more reason to laugh at his expense.

Soon, he realized these same guys looked at him with longing eyes too. That's when he decided to be the most desired guy from school. He knew he had the looks, and with a little effort, he would be what he always wanted: a success.

He started to go to the gym every day. He wanted to have a beautiful body, because a beautiful face he already had. Soon everyone at school was whispering when he walked along the corridors, and the girls threw themselves at his feet, not even suspecting how pathetic he thought they were. Even the hetero guys didn't mess with him. Not that they knew he was gay, but they kept their distance.

He was the only one of his family who went to college, and it was worth every night he spent trying to understand Math. His teachers liked him, especially the older ones, and he found out that if he went out with them here and there, he didn't even had to put that much effort in studying. And if, sometimes, instead of good grades, they gave him presents, who was he to complain?

None of his siblings went to his graduation. They weren't close at all, and when he moved out of his mother's house, he was so relieved that, for the first time in his life he was almost happy. One of his old teachers, a current lover, found him a job at the local newspaper. It was a mediocre job – he wasn't more than a secretary, but it paid the rent of a small room.

When he met the newspaper's owner, Larry Bishop, he could tell by the way the old man looked at him that the guy was a closet case, disguised as a family man. In a few weeks they were already lovers, and Larry started to take care of everything. Brandon moved to a beautiful apartment and stopped worrying about money. Living alone, he gained more confidence; he could bring anyone home and finally do whatever he wanted to whoever he wanted. Larry didn't know anything about Brandon's extracurricular activities, poor soul. He had a wife to come home to.

Brandon was the only son who still visited his mother, even though every time he went there he felt her bitterness spreading through his own chest. It wasn't her fault, she always treated him kindly. But she made him feel inadequate, so his visits to the old lady were rare. His siblings were all married now, living their pathetic lives at their pathetic houses, and hardly ever paid a visit to the woman who had aged prematurely raising them

At night, he went to the bars and clubs. There, he practiced the arts of seduction, refining his skills. There was nothing Brandon Stuart hated more than a no. Nothing he hated more then someone wanting to be better than him, or telling him he couldn't have what he wanted. So, he made sure no one ever said no to him, and that he always got what and who he wanted.

He read a lot, it was important to know a little bit about everything. He left his job, because getting up early wasn't for him. Dear old Larry didn't mind. The money kept coming, because the old bastard was rich, he just worked to have an excuse to escape his wife; the bitch didn't even give him a child. Brandon studied French and Spanish, just to pass the time. All in all, life was good.

Larry's wife didn't like when he left Brandon half his fortune. But it was written in Larry's will, so she couldn't do anything. Of course, when the old man died of a heart attack, Brandon was on 'vacation' in Puerto Vallarta. He almost came back for the funeral, but changed his mind. The offended wife wouldn't let him in, anyway. And it was not like Larry would note his absence, was it?

--

The lights were bright and the music was loud. Brandon surveyed the dance floor with predatory eyes. So many hot guys, and it was always good to know he could have whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted. But tonight he didn't want any of them.

He spotted a golden head near the bar. That hair was unmistakable. When he approached the young man, Justin was sweaty and apparently more than a little high. Maybe it was just booze, but Brandon suspected it was something more. He had seen the happy couple share some E and other things the famous Anita gave Kinney. Not that he didn't like this kind of stuff, but Brandon needed his senses at its best to execute his plan.

It wasn't exactly a plan, he corrected himself, just something that was in his head for a long time, but he never acted on it because he never thought he'd have the opportunity. Now, the opportunity presented itself before his eyes, and he wouldn't let it go.

Before Brandon could find something interesting to say to him, Justin Taylor turned to him with glazed eyes.

"Hey." Brandon said. "Still alone?"

"I don't need anyone." Justin closed his eyes and sighed.

"You're right, you don't." Brandon agreed. He touched Justin's shoulder and the young man opened his eyes. "What you need," he added, "is to dance. Come on."

He didn't wait for Justin's reply, just took his hand and led him to the dance floor. The loud music and the lights made Justin stumble a little, but when "Forever Young" started to play, he closed his eyes and smiled. :God, I love this song. It reminds me of…" He didn't finish the sentence, just smiled in that typical drunken haze and started to sway to the music, not even paying attention to Brandon.

"Here." Brandon took a tiny pill from his pocket and handed to Justin. The other man was so far from anything that he just took the pill and swallowed it.

A few minutes later Justin started to dance dancing sensually, rotating his hips with perfection and throwing his arms to the air. He had his head slightly thrown back and his eyes were closed, as if he was in a particular world no one could get in.

It was enticing. And Brandon wanted more.

It was clear the guy was more than stoned now, and Brandon wasn't even sure Justin knew who he was dancing with. Now, Brandon liked to think himself a gentleman, whenever he could. And a gentleman wouldn't take advantage of a stoned person, would he?

He smiled devilishly, looking at the blond in front of him. He looked almost innocent now, his sweaty hair plastered on his forehead, like a young boy who'd been running. But when Justin parted his lips slightly and his pink tongue licked his bottom lip, Brandon's cock didn't agree with his chivalry and jumped happily inside his pants. Chivalry be damned.

He decided to make his move, it was now or never. Brian Kinney would know who Brandon Stuart was. What he could do, just because he wanted to.Brian would learn that he couldn't play with Brandon. If Justin turned him down he was sure no one would notice, they were in a crowded dance floor…but he knew Justin was too far away to care at this point. The world could end and he wouldn't notice. Carefully, he approached the young man's ear and whispered "Let's go to the backroom."

Justin didn't open his eyes; he only smiled slightly and nodded, sighing. Brandon just grabbed his hand again and led him to the backroom of Babylon. Justin followed him obediently, eyes still closed, dreamy smile on his face, jumping a little behind him in rhythm with the music, still lost in its beat and in his world.

Since Babylon was rebuilt, the backroom was completely different, with little leather couches, a few half walls, giving the people a little more privacy. Of course, for the ones who enjoyed watching and being watched, there was still a big area that resembled the old backroom: just walls, horny men and sex.

As they passed through the crowd, Brandon couldn't help but smile at the looks they were getting. Everyone knew who Justin Taylor was. And everyone knew that Justin never fucked other guys when Brian wasn't around, at least looking. That had been their routine for the last two years.

The men on the dance floor looked at Brandon with an almost reverent gaze, and he just smiled at them. They were all intrigued, if not astonished. Was that really Justin, Brian's Justin, being pulled by the hand with no resistance at all, and towards the backroom, of all places? Brandon entertained the thought that Brian was at home, probably waiting for Justin, and his blond beau was there, at Brian's own playground, about to be fucked. By no one else but Brandon. Just like he imagined it would be: in front of everyone.

He took Justin to the couch farthest from the backroom's door. He wanted some privacy, wanted to savor every minute of this. He was turned on by Justin, of course, and beneath the tight pants he could see the guy had a great ass. But this was something more. Something like payback.

--

The problem with Brandon was that he hated to be dismissed.

…

"You can have my ass…but you can't have me."

He wanted to sound defiant; it was all he could do not to scream at the man. He had lost the stupid bet and he still didn't understand how. He entertained the idea of not going to Kinney's loft, but he was a man of honor. He'd given his word.

Brian was wearing a white wifebeater that did a very good job at showing his wonderful body. For a second, Brandon asked himself what would've happened if he'd won the bet. For a second, he thought he should've asked Brian to bottom for him.

Brandon was dressed all in black. He started to take his clothes off slowly, while Brian poured a drink for himself. He saw the way Brian eyed him, not bothering to hide how much he was enjoying this. He looked at him through the panels of the bedroom, glass in hand, sarcastic expression firmly in place, and his cock suddenly twitched. Shit. He wasn't expecting this. He told Brian to take it easy, because he never bottomed, and that was true, but the truth was, he was more than curious to see what would happen between two hot guys who were clearly so alike. More curious than he should have been.

He finally lay on the bed, ass in the air, asking if Brian wasn't going to collect his prize with a confidence and disdain he didn't exactly feel. He knew how perfect his body was, but Kinney was perfect too. And when he made some comment about his years of expertise, Brandon said his years were numbered, so Brian wouldn't notice how anxious he was. He hated the fact that this man could do this to him: Brian was making him want to bottom, and it was so ridiculous and surreal that he almost chuckled.

For a few seconds they just stared at each other. Brandon acted as if he didn't care, but in his mind's eyes he was seeing an angry Brian fucking him hard into the mattress just to prove his point. He had a feeling that, if something like that happened, it wouldn't be bad at all.

Then, Brian half smiled. His intention must've been to give a sarcastic smile, but to Brandon it looked almost sad. Brandon wondered what was inside the other man's head to smile like that. When the brunet picked up his clothes and threw them at him saying "put your pants on' he was so stunned that he only mumbled "Huhn?"

"I said put your pants on. Get out." Brian said softly.

"Whatever you say…you're the winner." He started to put his clothes on, and he couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed. Maybe a little bit of each. There would be no prize, and for a minute, Brandon wasn't sure who was losing.

Brian followed him to the door.

"What about Babylon?" Brandon asked. It was the only thing he could say to hide his disappointment. Why the hell he wanted to know what made Brian change his mind? He never bottomed, so he should be glad it wasn't going to happen, right?

"You can get inside Babylon whenever you want. Forget the bet, it was a silly thing to do. But you're just banned from the VIP lounge." Brian smirked, and there was the sad smile again. "Like you said, if my years are numbered, Babylon needs to get used to its future king."

Brandon frowned. Since when did he worriedif Kinney was sad? He was about to turn around and go when Brian suddenly put one hand on the back of his neck and put his lips very close to Brandon's left ear, whispering: "But don't forget that I won the bet. We could be in that bed now and you can bet your ass, no pun intended, that you'd be screaming, and moaning, and you'd come so hard you'd forget you own name. And you'd never forget who I was, believe me."

Brandon bit his lip not to moan, because Brian's words and the hot puffs of air in his year sent shivers down his spine and gave him goose bumps. He was glad he was wearing a long sleeved jacket or this would completely ruin his reputation. Shit, who was this man, how could he give him shivers just talking, for crying out loud!

"Asshole." Was all that he said and he went down the stairs as fast as he could, trying not to run. Downstairs, he took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. God, What the hell had just happened? How the hell had he changed from not wanting Brian to wanting him, just because he knew he wouldn't have him?

He thought he had more control than that. How could he, Brandon Stuart, be this frustrated because some asshole didn't fuck him? God, he was getting crazy or what? He should be relieved, right? But the man was irresistible, almost as if he had an unknown magnetism, and Brandon felt the growing bulge in his pants, thinking that Kinney probably had done this on purpose. Bastard.

He wanted it. Deep inside, he wanted it. Brandon was a top, definitely. But who wouldn't want to be in Brian Kinney's bed? And of course, to be in his bed meant to bottom. But he secretly didn't mind that. He, too, wanted to know what was so wonderful about this man that everybody lusted for him.

His blood boiled with anger, or was it disappointment?. He was there, naked in Brian's bed, and, as much as he didn't want to admit, starting to get aroused. It was hard to keep the nonchalant façade when Brian's scent was everywhere. The man did smell good. And the bastard dismissed him, just like that, like he wasn't good enough for the 'God's gift to gay Pittsburgh'. Brian didn't want him.

Earlier, when he was going to the loft, Brandon thought he hated Brian not only because he'd won the bet, but because he was everything Brandon wanted to be and wasn't. Yet. Bottoming always made him feel vulnerable, and Brandon Stuart didn't do vulnerable. But now he hated the guy even more for dismissing him, even if he managed to hide his disappointment about it. Stupid bastard. Who did he think he was? Who was he to dismiss Brandon Stuart, Pittsburgh new best top?

He adjusted his pants, feeling the tight fabric of his jeans. "We could be in that bed now and you can bet your ass, no pun intended, that you'd be screaming, and moaning, and you'd come so hard you'd forget you own name." Brandon groaned, thinking again of Brian's words and the way they'd made him feel. Burning. And neglected. Shit! He needed to take care of that. A trip to the baths was in order.

--

Justin sat languidly on the couch without opening his eyes. "I'm spinning," he giggled. "Anita's stuff is strong."

'Anita?' Brandon thought. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

Brandon sat beside Justin and nuzzled his neck, earning a soft moan from Justin, who threw his arms lazily around his neck. "Mmmmm…that feels good."

Satisfied with the other's reaction, Brandon started do lick Justin's ear, as his moans grew louder. A hand traveled to his pants and he caressed Justin's cock through the jeans, feeling the guy's hardness and amazed that, for a short person, his length was something to be proud of. When his hand cupped Justin's cock, the young man bucked his hips against Brandon's hand and sighed. "More…" he said dreamily. "I want more, please…"

That 'please' undid Brandon, whose erection couldn't be more painful now. He wanted to fuck the pretty ass he guessed Justin had, he wanted to feel him screaming Brandon's name, and more than that, he wanted Brian Kinney to know everything about it.

His mouth left Justin's ear for his shoulder and he started to suck the spot where the shoulder and the neck met. Encouraged by Justin's moans and sighs, he undid Justin's pants in the blink of an eye and grabbed his cock, causing Justin to yelp.

"You like that?" he purred.

"Yeah…" Justin half whispered, half moaned.

Brandon bit Justin's soft flesh – he loved to bruise his lovers - and at the same time began to stroke his cock, already dripping with precum. Justin arched his back and Brandon bit his shoulder harder. He knew it would leave a mark, but Justin didn't seem to mind, so why would he? "What do you want, Justin?"

The young man bucked his hips again.

"Come on, tell me, what do you want?" Brandon whispered.

"You. I want you, Brian. Please, I can't wait anymore. I want you so much, Brian…You're the only one I want."

Brandon's hand stilled. His whole body stilled. He didn't imagine the guy was so vocal. 'Brian' ?

The absence of movement made Justin open his eyes. And then jumped almost a meter from the couch.

"What the hell are you doing here? Where's Brian?" he practically shouted, looking widely around the place.

Brandon tried to remain calm, he didn't want to attract too much attention, especially now that Justin seemed more awake than Brandon had seen him the whole night. "I guess it's pretty clear he's not here," Brandon said sarcastically.

"B-but…" the young man stuttered. "I…We were here, we danced, he gave me some E, he brought me to the backroom, he was…" he looked lost.

Brandon smiled, amused. "No, he wasn't. It was me all along."

Justin glared at him and buttoned his trousers, then put his hand on his neck.

"You bit me," he said accusingly.

"You loved it." Brandon retorted.

"Asshole. I thought it was Brian." Justin snapped angrily, "How could you…?"

"You wanted it, look at yourself and tell me you didn't."

Justin looked at his pants, at the obvious bulge inside. "I told you…I thought you were Brian."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Brandon said sarcastically. "After all, where is he when you're here, wasted and horny? Frankly, what kind of partner is that?"

Justin blinked, trying to clear his head. He was dizzy, and for a second Brandon pitied the guy. He sill looked around, so lost, looking for Brian…shit, he must've been really stoned.

Brandon left the couch and stopped in front of Justin, mere inches from his face. He touched the spot where he's bitten and Justin winced. "I'm sure you won't regret it if you let me finish what we started. I'm so much better than him, you have no idea. And so. Much. Younger."

Justin gulped audibly and looked at him. He could tell the guy was still trying to understand what had happened. His voice trembled a little when he spoke, almost whispering, but still managing to sound angry. "Shut up. You're not even half the man he is," he said through gritted teeth, and stormed out of the room, stumbling a little in his haste.

Brandon looked at his retreating back and smiled sarcastically. He could feel all eyes on him. He wondered if Hollywood should hire him, he was so good at acting. His smile was sarcastic, but his insides were boiling with repressed lust, frustration and anger. "Please, I can't wait anymore. I want you so much, Brian…" Damn Kinney. "You're the only one I want." Justin's voice filled with lust echoed in his head and to know that lust wasn't for him, was for Brian Kinney, again, made him really, really mad.

He fucked at least five different guys that night, hard and fast. It was the only way to take that frustration out of him.