"You're Brian Kinney, for Fuck's Sake!"
Michael used to always tell me that. He'd hold me, kiss me, tell me that, no matter what, I'd always be beautiful.
And, now, as I dance with him in Babylon, I realize how true he is.
Babylon was a bombed-out mess three months ago, nothing but ashes and embers, memories lost beneath piles of dust and dried up blood.
I threw my hands into the air, moving to the music, feeling Michael wrap his arms around my waist, pulling me close to him.
I looked down at him and smiled, the first smile I had allowed since Justin left for his job in New York. Noticing this, Michael brought his right hand to my left cheek, caressing it gently.
Letting my hands fall from the air, I threw my arms around his neck, leaning in and kissing him, as I always had, passionately and tenderly.
As his other hand came to run it's way through my hair, my mind traveled back to when we had first kissed.
It was the same old story.
He and I had been looking at pictures of the gorgeous Patrick Swayze in some off-beat teen-girl's magazine. (Where else were we gay men supposed to find hot studs?)
I found myself very aroused by this one picture, in particular. I remember looking over and seeing that young Michael, too, was aroused. Very evidently aroused.
I had teased him about it, for, at the time, of the two of us, I was the only one openly gay.
"You have a hard on!" I had exclaimed, knocking against his shoulder gently.
He had shivered and self-consciously placed his hand above his crotch in attempt of hiding his evident hard-on.
I had turned my body into this weird angle and loomed over him, running my hand up and down his chest.
"I can do something about that." I had whispered softly, sliding my left hand to his pants and slowly unbuttoning them, catching his eyes for permission before sliding my hand underneath the zipper and into his briefs, grasping his hard-on gently, and slowly wrapping my fist around it.
As I began to jerk him off, I had leaned in to kiss him, pushing my tongue into his mouth, running it along the roof of his mouth, eliciting a moan from him, an animal-like moan.
Just as things had started to get heated, his mother had walked in, causing him to go flying off the bed.
I had remained where I was, wondering what the hell had just happened.
And, now, as he and I kiss again, I smile into his lips, rubbing the nape of his neck tenderly, letting him know that I was here, and that I would always be here.
He pulled away, looking down towards Ben, his husband, who was dancing with Ted, Emmett, and Blake, Ted's new beaux.
Ben smiled up towards us, winking at his lover, a signal that our time was over for the night.
As Michael slid out, and away, from my grasp, he gently clasped our hands together, nodding up towards me.
And then he was gone, back on the floors of Babylon, escaping our fantasy for his reality.
I threw my hands into the air again, taking in a deep breath, ready for tomorrow, ready for the new life that lie ahead. A life without Michael, without Ben, and most importantly, without Justin.
My mind began it's flashback course, again, this time landing on Justin and I's first kiss.
Michael, the gang, and I, had been loading up into my jeep, the usual, straight out of Babylon, when he had caught my eye.
The gorgeous twink under the lamplight. He didn't belong in this world. I had known that.
I hadn't cared.
I had strolled away from the gang and paused mere inches from Justin, our chests close enough to feel each other breathe.
"How's it going? You had a busy night?" I had asked, attempting to show no emotion, or falter, in my expression.
His response was forged, but well.
"Just, uh, checking out the bars, you know. BoyToy, Meathook."
I remember chuckling slightly, not believing him for a minute that he had visited either establishment.
"Meathook? Really? So you're into leather?" I had asked, catching him in his lie.
He had blushed, the red showing evidently against his pale skin.
That was when I knew he would be trouble. But I hadn't been willing to admit it. Hadn't been willing to admit that this was anything other than my usual one-night-stand.
After he had replied, I asked him where he was headed.
"No place special." had been his response.
And, in true Brian Kinney manner, in a flirtacious tone, I had said, "I can change that."
Next thing I knew, I was driving off, deserting the gang, a hot twink in the passenger side of my four wheel drive jeep.
He was cautious as I walked him up the stairs to my loft, eyes darting from the walls to floor, never catching my eyes.
When I slid the key into the loft door, slid it open, and walked in, I wasn't sure if he was going to follow, but, sure enough, he was right behind me.
"Shut the door." I had said sternly, going straight to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water.
"This is a really nice place." he had stuttered, still not catching my eyes.
Using the bottle of water as bait, I had poured it all over my head, letting it casually slip down my body, finally catching his gaze in mine.
I had went on to ask him if he liked 'special K', the drug of the evening, and the poor lad had thought I meant the cereal.
It was then I knew his innocent looks, his innocent attitude, was anything but false. I looked to the night as a means of breaking this twink's innocence.
What threw me off was his ability to talk, and talk, and talk. Going on about his allergies, and how he was allergic to Tylenol.
I mean, come on, Tylenol? No one's allergic to that. Tylenol's what they give you when you're allergic to everything else.
I had shaken my head, cleared my mind, and began to work on unfastening my jeans, sliding out of them as he had gone on talking, something about an allergy to Codeine.
As soon as my pants had hit the floor, his words faultered.
Teasingly, I had suggested we keep the Codeine on the top shelf, well out of reach, and slid out of my underwear, spreading my arms to the side.
"So, are you coming or going? Or coming and then going? Or coming and staying?" I offered, giving him choices, something none of my past twinks had ever gottten.
I was hoping with these words, he would understand, tonight was about everything, and about nothing at all.
Hesitantly, he slid out of his jacket, tossing it to the couch, and walked towards me. I had pulled him against my body, my left hand automatically working at his pants, quickly unzipping them, as I leaned in, not yet kissing him, but breathing against him, feeling him get so aroused.
I finally kissed him, the kiss slow and sensual as I slid my hand down his pants.
He had gasped aloud, then, hardening me quickly, quicker than I had ever been hardened before.
Taking advantage of his open mouth, I kissed him again, this time entering my tongue into the play.
Quickly, the kiss turned heated, and the next thing I knew, I was leading him to the bedroom.