At 9pm on Christmas night, our guests arrived. We'd invited Lindsay and Mel to our Christmas party, but they'd gone to see Mel's family. However, Brandon, Mikey and Ben, Daphne, Emmett, and Ted all came.

Brandon was dressed, as usual, in silk and leather, this time, a red-purple silk shirt and white leather pants.

(What people were wearing really does matter, at least to me, tonight).

Mikey was dressed, as usual, in a T-shirt and jeans, this time, a Superman T-shirt and dark blue jeans. Ben was dressed, as usual (if the last month and a half were any indication), in jeans and a plain button down shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, two buttons unfastened, this time, a hunter green shirt and black jeans.

Daphne was dressed, as usual, in a flowing blouse and tight silk pants, this time, a sea green and grey paisley shirt and grey pants.

Emmett was dressed, as usual, in bright clothing, this time, a gauzy pink button down and silver pants.

Ted was dressed, as usual, in a cotton long sleeved button down shirt and dark pants, this time, a blue and white vertical striped shirt and navy pants.

Brian was wearing, as he sometimes did, a black V-neck sweater and jeans, and, as he always did, the cowry shell necklace I'd given him six Christmases ago. It looked amazing against his bronze skin.

I was the only one who'd dressed differently. After much cajoling and flattery, and a brain-melting blow job, Brian had persuaded me to wear the black leather pants I'd bought a month before, as well as a red silk shirt, which Brian had given me as an early Christmas present. As had become our custom, we always exchanged Christmas presents late, late Christmas night. Once I was dressed, I took three steps out of Brian's bedroom before (after glancing around out our guests, who were all standing in the living room area) doing an about face and taking the three steps back in.

What had freaked me out? Brandon. When I'd seen him, I'd wanted to cry.

I was dressed like a fucking hustler. And not just any hustler. Like Brandon. Someone I kind of hated and was terribly jealous of (I'm pretty sure he popped Brian's cherry).

When Brian had suggested the outfit, I was effectively drunk (after that brain-melting orgasm). I hadn't thought about what other people would be wearing, what Brandon would be wearing. The moment I stepped into Brian's room, I started unbuttoning my shirt. By the time Brian came in a minute later, I was half out of the leather pants, too.

Brian closed the door and leaned against it. Then, in his stupidly sexy drawl, he asked, "Sunshine, whatcha doing?"

"Chang--ing." I grunted as I writhed on Brian's bed, trying to pull the leather pants off (they were really, really tight).

Brian, seeing me like this, couldn't help but laugh. I muttered, "Asshole."

Then Brian got it together, blinking a couple of times and schooling his expression. "Why?"

With a soft zip, the pants finally gave. I oophed. Then I stood, naked now (no I wasn't wearing anything underneath the pants), and stomped over to Brian, well as much as a naked person can. I tried to look fierce, as I accused, "You wanted me to look like Brandon!"

A simple "no" was the response.

I gestured toward the door helplessly. Had Brian not seen what Brandon was wearing? What, in fact, he was always wearing?

I shook my head and looked down. "Is it because he was your first? That you want me to look like him?"

Brian was literally taken aback (he moved his head back and opened his eyes wide). "My first? My first what?"

"You know, your first. People say you never forget that person. Course, he's still very much in your life, not giving you a chance to forget him. So, I mean, is that why you think his look is sexy?"

Brian buried his face in his hands for a moment and then drew his hands down slowly. "His look? It's not his look. Long before he was a hustler, people decided leather and silk were hot. And he was not my first. I never fucked Brandon, and he sure as hell never fucked me. And, that bit about remembering firsts…bullshit. My first was eminently forgettable."

"What! But I thought…"

Brian snapped, "What? What did you think?"

I swallowed hard and turned around. Brian pulled me into his arms then. I whispered, "You really never…?"

"I really never."

"Then who?"

"Like I said, eminently forgettable."

"You really don't remember?"

"No-o. I don't." I wasn't sure, but that "no" sounded a little strangled at first. Like it was painful coming out. But the "I don't" part…Brian said that in his usual drawl. "So squeeze back into those leather pants…I'm hungry."

Brian stepped back, and I turned around. "Brian…"

"No excuses, Sunshine. You promised."

"Argh…but you had my dick in your mouth and your finger in my ass when you asked…so unfair…I would have promised anything."

"Nevertheless…"

"Everyone will laugh…"

"They weren't laughing before…besides, you should only be thinking about me…your boyfriend." He drew his hand up to his chest. Then he shook his head and laughed. "Isn't that fucking surreal? Brian Kinney, a boyfriend." After another incredulous head shake, he added, dropping his voice so low that my dick began to stir, "I want to feel your perfectly rounded ass in leather all night…"

I groaned. "Okay." But then I smiled. I liked the idea of Brian's dick being hard for the entire party. Because of me. And my black leather pants.

TBC…soon…sorry this is taking so long (and the first two parts were so short). The next one will be a lot longer