In this world (not my world, but there you go) homosexuality is one step beyond illegal. Anyone caught in homosexual intercourse is sentenced to death with no trial. Less severe punishments are enforced for "crimes" such as kissing, holding hands and even socializing with homosexuals. Other than that, the world is as we know it, if not better, serving as a stunning contradiction. It may seem like a drugged mess, but it will become more and more as the story progresses.
Brian Kinney was ecstatic. Three times. Three fucking times within a week. A mere week. He'd done it. Once if you're careful; twice if you're lucky; thrice and you're dead. But here he was: careful, lucky and so not dead.
Earlier that day.
"Ha! You're out of sex? So fast? What happened!" Mike couldn't control himself.
"Who said anything about being out of sex. I said I had sex twice this week, once on Monday and once on Thursday." Brian felt like explaining why one plus one equals two to a five year old.
"Brian, not that nonsense again. You know just as well as I do that this cannot happen. The feds' surveillance database will already have you marked as red; give them any more excuse and you're gone." Idiot.
"I was extra careful this time my friend. I doubt it that I'm even orange. At any rate, we shall know very soon. This blonde's ass over there is begging me to tame it."
Brian left Mike's table without listening to so much as half a word of what the other said. He was prepared; he knew it. The fact that the fed's database (or the cunt as many of his friends affectionately called it) has a mere week of memory is no chance. Their system has imperfections and he found them out. Those feds. They don't realize that the "dirty ones" have eyes and ears as of their own, and are perfectly capable of some "surveillance" of themselves. He, Brian Kinney, has managed to break their code and work between their spy network.
How he did it is not important. He wasn't planning in sharing the knowledge with anyone anyway. The fact remained that tonight he will fuck this hot blonde and will officially defeat the feds. No more green, orange or red.
"Get me another beer, Craig, and whatever my friend here has." Fuck, he smells good as well.
After they had their drink and assured each other that were both green, Brian lying through his teeth of course, they left the bar and went straight to the loft.
A few hours and many orgasms later, Brian kissed the blonde goodnight and kicked him out of his apartment. He was right. The feds didn't come. They didn't pick up on him picking up this piece of ass. What was his name again? He couldn't remember. It didn't matter.
To him, that boy would always be his first victory against the feds. He would call him Vic and he hoped he would never see him again. Apart for the great ass and the great opportunity he presented, he was nothing special. Just another fuck. One of the many, many, that will follow.
Now that he had at long last broken the feds' code, the sky was his limit.
In the meantime, Justin Taylor had reasons of his own to be ecstatic. He had just finished his masterpiece, the piece that consumed his attention and time for over a month. Shit, was it a month already? He couldn't believe it, but time seems to ignore him when he gets lost in his art.
Tonight he would celebrate. He hadn't had sex for ages and now that his work is done, he can feel the need making itself loudly present.
He showered, got dressed and left his apartment. First he needed food. He would go to a diner around the corner and get some food. He'd never been there before; apparently, chinese delivery was all he consumed since he moved out from his parent's house.
At the diner he has steak and fries, which he washed down with an extra large strawberry milkshake. He was so into his food that at first he didn't realize the commotion that took place in the booth next to his.
Three men were screaming and laughing and another man was smirking and seemingly enjoying himself. He must have performed an outstanding stunt to get such a reaction out of his friends.
As Justin got up towards the counter to pay for his late dinner/early breakfast, he got a glimpse of this guy's face. Fuck. The most handsome, hot, sexy, fucking perfect guy in the whole universe was sitting right here, in this diner, casually talking with his friends and looking at Justin. Fuck. No. Never again.
Much attracted as he was to men, and especially to this man as his growing bulge informed him, he had sworn to himself he would never ever indulge in homosexual acts again. There are plenty of women to satiate his need for a good fuck and that's what he'll be doing. That's the plan and he's sticking to it. No hot fuck was worth his life.
He didn't make it. He didn't manage to have sex that night. The image of that man's face was imprinted behind his eyes, evidently permanently, and it was simply impossible for him to even think of fucking the girl that offered herself to him.
As Justin made his way home, he spotted that same man outside the diner. They locked eyes for a few seconds and he got hard again. The other man smiled and Justin couldn't suppress a grin that extended behind his fucking ears. Fuck. With his peripheral vision, he immediately started looking for any trace of feds.
Justin knew this couldn't end well. As he would soon find out, this was an understatement.