The Twinkie Defense (The day after Justin becomes King of Babylon)

What's that Streisand shit Emmet's always babbling about? Don't rain on my parade? This kid's not just raining, he's a fucking monsoon threatening to wipe out everything as I know it. Though, in true Justin fashion he manages to do even that with defiance. He's not raining at all. Instead, the little shit has brought the sun out. His overzealous (downright nauseating) 'sunshiny' rays are boring down on my parade and giving my patrons heatstroke.

What is it about this boy that has everyone so willing to soak up the sun and work on their tan? Yes even you Kinney, better get out your sun block. Fuck. What is going on here? I don't think they make a strong enough SPF to protect me from this one. I am so screwed.

All Hail the mighty King! I'll be damned. The fucking King of fucking Babylon. I can't honestly say that I'm surprised. A room full of horny fags glistening with sweat and reeking of Lust? Of course they'd all want him. What I honestly can say I'm surprised about, is the fact that it got to me. Wait, wait now slow down Kinney. He didn't "Get to you" per say. No. He just impressed me.

He was in such control. I like control, I feed on it. He had control of every attention span in the goddamn place. Yes, even mine. Failing against self protest, I couldn't look away. He was mesmerizing. I didn't want any of those men looking at him. Even the trick I was (unsuccessfully) attempting to give a shit about, had focused his sights on the hot Blonde practically dry humping the pole on stage. I wanted to be the only one watching the way that fair ivory body moved…Stop it Kinney. He's not my anything. I don't need him to try and impress me.

Damn those bastards disguised as my friends, for encouraging Justin this morning to speak of his 'Sexcapades' last night. I didn't want to hear that shit. Hell, I didn't need a rehash, I witnessed it. Once again, he was so in control. I'm not sure why I even paused to watch him so clearly becoming his own man of dominance. He didn't need me. So why did I not move? What was I expecting to get? Him? No. I didn't need him. Yet still I stood there (a bit captivated) watching him frivolously top that insignificant trick. Seeing that, I felt several unidentifiable emotions running a goddamn Olympic worthy relay race throughout my body. No. I don't care. Good for him.

He's become such a strong person. A far fucking cry away from the nervous, inexperienced, starry eyed twat I met under that lamppost. Ah, the meeting to start this whole damn heat wave. When I first laid eyes on him, my initial reaction was 'fresh meat', shortly followed by an unprecedented flat out need to have him. A nice little treat for myself.

I can still see the fear and anxiety born in his eyes when he first gazed upon my naked body. His innocence was enlightening, endearing, and hot as hell. I wish I'd never have picked his blonde ass up. Christ. Who am I kidding? It was his ass that got me into this mess to begin with.

This twinkling eyed twink had me betraying myself from minute one. I had told him about losing my own virginity, I had taken him to the hospital with me, I let him name my fucking kid! All, I needn't remind myself, before we'd even fucked.

I actually took him to school the following morning. I have to admit I still occasionally relish in the humor of that. The ego boost I got from getting someone so young was only amplified ten fold when I actually dropped him off at fucking High School. Then that asshole jock started giving him shit. Why had I been so quick to jump to his defense? Why Do I still feel the need to cast myself in the role of 'Protector'? Brian Kinney Knight in fucking shining armor? I think not. What is going on here?

Brian Kinney doesn't give a shit about bonding, or the 'feelings' of the latest tryst between his sheets. Why did I find it so ridiculously easy (and begrudgingly necessary) to talk to this kid? There were far better things we could have been doing with our mouths. Why did I care so much to make his first time so memorable? And why, why, why, did I say "I love you" when I came? "I love you"? Really Kinney? Never before. Never again.

With mistakes like that, combined with whatever the fuck Anita cooked up, no wonder he thinks he's in love with me. I guess I really can only blame myself. I told him though, he's only a fuck. Right? Right.

Seeing those (downright breathtaking) blue eyes illuminated with the shine of unshed tears when I told him that, I must admit did make my stomach turn. I didn't want to hurt the kid. He was pretty sweet. Hell, I actually even liked him. But he had to know that I was absolutely the worst possible thing he could ever want.

I can only be bothered to care about one person. Brian Kinney. I'm as fucked up beyond repair as they come. I couldn't allow myself to damage this innocent, newfound fag of Liberty Avenue. I did the right thing. I pushed him away.

For all the goddamn good it did me. The persistent little fucker just keeps pushing back, and with a force I can't match. He knows just how to get to me.

The first time I thought I was rid of him, there he was, his perky little bottom effortlessly luring my two dance partners (prospected bed partners) away from me. Holy shit, he didn't even have to try. I still get hard just thinking about that night. The glitter of Babylon sensuously accessorizing his creamy skin. He knew exactly what he was doing.

I should have walked away. Picked up one of the countless men who would have undoubtedly been more than eager to be propositioned by one Brian Kinney. Of course, I went against my better judgment. (Yes. I have judgment.) I had to take back control. Control of the situation. Control of Babylon. Control of him.

I was rid of him once. Good riddance and all of that. So can someone please explain to me, why I ever went to New York to retrieve him? I should have left him there when I had the chance. Voodoo Marylin said he'd have been successful shaking his ass in Chelsea. Fuck. I didn't want any lust filled queers in Chelsea salivating over him. I don't want any lust filled queers in the Pitts ogling him either. Just me. Get a grip Kinney.

Maybe he has kind of begun to grow on me. I suppose if you like those 'youthful, sexy with a perfect ass & scrumptious lips, hang on your every word, worship everything you hate about yourself, make you laugh with a smile that lights up the fucking night types'. Not that I do.

God. I have even allowed this guy to live with me.(I might make an appointment soon to have my head examined.) I recall his mother dropping his clothes, games, and allergy goddamn medication, off at my office. What the hell?

I wish I could have told her 'Why are you coming to me? I don't know where your son is, nor do I care'. Unfortunately, my apparent mental illness was in full form. He was indeed (as she had guessed) in my fucking kitchen making me fucking jambalaya, or whatever the fuck he cooks.

This fair haired nuisance has managed to insert himself (quite forcefully) into too many aspects of my life. How the hell did I allow this to happen? He's a stubborn son of a bitch. I'll give him that. As Strong willed a man as I have ever met. I think he may even out match me. No. I'm still in charge here.

Admittedly, he has continually shown me just how strong he truly is. I respect him for it. Watching him stand up to his father after he attacked me outside of Babylon. Which mirrored his previous concern for me after his dad rammed my damn jeep. I fucking deserved it. Not that Justin thought so. I remember watching him, somewhat awestricken. Here was this seventeen year old kid, standing up to his dad, telling him exactly who he was and what he thought about it. Something I never was able to do with my own piss poor excuse of a father. Like I said, I respect him.

While I'm on the subject, why does Justin feel the need to protect me from trouble? If anything I'm the one who threw his entire 'white picket fence' life into turmoil. His father was right. I seduced him. Like it or not, I did make him believe that I loved him. So why did he deny that when his father called me out on it? 'He never said he loved me!', Yes I did. Justin Taylor, Knight in fucking shining armor? Perhaps.

After listening to his dad spout his hate filled objection to his sons' 'disgusting lifestyle', I found myself feeling somewhat sorry for him. Not that I'll ever tell him that. He'd kill me for even wasting one ounce of pity on him. He's a spitfire that's for goddamn sure. My little hothead. No. not mine.

Sunshine…what the hell?…I mean Justin, has made himself an ever present staple in my daily routine since that first 'Where are you headed?'. I never should have approached him. Stupid overactive libido.

A one night stand? This has turned into one hell of fucking long night.

What do you think Kinney, time to admit defeat? For now. I just have to accept the fact that he's not going away anytime soon. I'll stop trying so hard to push him away. It's a moot point anyway, and I honestly don't think I have the energy for both that and keeping my stamina up in the backroom.

Besides, having him around isn't quite-exactly-necessarily what I'd call unbearable.

So, I've broken my no repeats rule. So what? He's not my anything. He's just fucking incredible in bed. He can almost wear me out. I said almost. I am practically insatiable for him. No one can fault me for not wishing to trade down to some random sloppy trick from the bowels of Babylon.

I'm still Brian Kinney. Damn it. I'm in complete control. It's not my fault this particular twinkie can give one hell of a delicious blow job.