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Be Mine	By : DeadLetterOffice Category: M through R > Queer As Folk Views: 2573 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own queer as folk nor any of the affilated characters. I am just having unpaid fun with them.

Chapter List
- 1-Be Mine
- 1
I remember when I first saw him. I was new to Pittsburgh, I had come there from a backwater town I was trying hard to forget, and I was excited to be on Liberty Avenue. Excited that I could be myself at last, away from the fake life I had been leading at home, pretending to leer after the girls when it was the boys I really wanted. But I'd never wanted anyone the way I wanted him.
He was walking down the road and there was no way I could have missed him. People stared at him, turned to look after him when he passed. He was very tall and long-limbed, and the sun made his honey-brown hair look golden. His skin was smooth and golden, and his eyes, which were green and golden, slid over me as he walked past where I was standing. He walked with a shorter, dark-haired man beside him who took two steps for one of his loping strides, and he didn't even register my presence.
“Who is that?” I couldn't help myself from saying out loud. A man standing next to me turned to stare.
“Are you new here?” he asked. “That's Brian Kinney, everyone knows him. You either want to be him or you want to have him.” I made my decision there and then. I wanted to have him, more than I had ever wanted anything else ever before.
I saw him on Liberty Avenue everywhere I went, every bar, every club. He held court like a king with his entourage. The thing was, I could never get near him. When he wasn't surrounded by admirers, prospective or current tricks, or having sex with multiple men, he was in a group of friends of whom the dark-haired man I had seen with him before seemed to be the closest to him. When I tried to catch his eye, he looked right through me, when I tried to get near enough to proposition him, he turned away and when I tried to dance with him other men always seemed to get there first. They was no way I could get his attention even for a minute.
Brian Kinney became my obsession. I watched him, I went to the places that he went to. I asked people about him. Everybody knew him, at least by sight, and it was true, everybody wanted him, even the ones who had already had him. But one of his golden rules apparently was to never fuck the same man twice. Given the man's voracious appetite for sex and the limited size of Pittsburgh's gay community, that wasn't really possible, but he did his best. What he certainly never did was commit. Sex was sex, friends were friends and he never mixed the two. Love was out of the question. Although this was common knowledge, he still left behind scores of broken hearts belonging to those who thought they might be the one to change Brian Kinney. When I watched him slink through the clubs, looking for prey, all long, lean and golden, his cruel, beautiful face illuminated by the flashing lights, I knew I would be the one to change it all.
At first I was content to bide my time and just watch him. I tried to approach him on several occasions, but was rebuked. He didn't always appreciate being hit on, he preferred to be the predator rather than the prey. Each time I spoke to him he seemed to look straight through me. Just being close enough to talk to him was exciting. I longed to touch the smooth golden skin on his face and his neck, to thread my fingers through his thick, golden-brown hair.
“I'm not interested,” he would reply languidly. He had the gentlest voice imaginable. I didn't take it personally, I wasn't the only one he rejected more than once. He didn't even seem to see me. I decided that I would have to make him notice me.
Despite his promiscuity, Brian did have a type, I came to that conclusion after weeks and weeks of watching him choose his conquests. He seemed to like his men tall, dark and muscular. I knew he was a top, everyone knew he was an extremely dominant male, and it seemed to appeal to his ego if the men he topped were large and powerful. I'd seen him in the back room of clubs many times and had memorised every curve of his beautiful body, a body so perfect in its way that people would turn their heads in the middle of sex to take in the sight of him when he took off his shirt and dropped his trousers prior to being pleasured by some overawed trick, or more than likely two or three of them. Tall and lean, his body was all hard muscles and smooth skin, he was sleek like a racehorse or, more aptly, a puma, fast, deadly and perfect. I had to get myself into better shape if I wanted to get near Brian Kinney, weeks of hard work at the gym and a visit to the hairdressers to darken my fair hair would be essential to my plan. It wasn't strength or toning that I lacked, I had often worked outside in the rural area of my home town, but I needed mass and bulk if I was to attract the stud of Liberty Street.
I had a shitty job at a grocery store; I exchanged it for a job on a construction site. The pay was better and laying bricks would help me build up my muscles. Working outdoors gave me a tan and I enjoyed the easy friendliness of the other men on the site. I don't know if they would have been so relaxed around me if they had known I was gay but I there was no reason for them to find out. I used the extra cash to enrol in a gym where I began to take protein supplements and train specific muscle areas to build up my body. During those weeks I stayed away from Liberty Avenue and Brian, as hard as that was. I wanted to surprise Brian.
After several months of hard work, I had the muscular body I needed to impress Brian. I had my hair dyed and cut, and spent the rest of my wages on a designer t-shirt and jeans that showed off my body to good effect, I knew that Brian liked expensive clothes. I was sure he would not be able to resist me.
At that time I am not sure exactly what I expected. I wanted him to notice me, I wanted to have sex with him. I hadn't thought further than that. I certainly didn't want him to apply his “never fuck the same trick twice” rule to me. I think I hoped to gain entrance to his inner sanctum. I knew that Brian “didn't do boyfriends”, it was always being quoted at me every time I asked anyone about him. But I think I believed I would be different.
Certainly my first evening as the new me began differently. People were noticing me. Whereas before I blended into the background, now I turned heads. Men are fickle by nature, dangle something sexually attractive before them and they are suddenly interested. I went to Brian's favourite club and he was there, impossibly beautiful as usual, leaning against the bar and laughing, his friends in attendance, the dark-haired one with a scowl. But there was an addition to the group, someone I had not seen before: A short blond male, a closer look told me that he could be little more than a teenager, Brian's arm was around his shoulder and his was around Brian's waist, clutching possessively. I hadn't seen the boy before, he looked so much younger than Brian and his friends that at first I assumed he must be a younger brother or some irrelevant hanger-on. But then Brian leaned down to kiss him and the gesture was anything but innocent. It was full of passion. The dark-haired man's gaze was fixed on the pair, burning resentfully.
As the night progressed, I saw them dance together, smiling and whispering. Brian seemed to have eyes for no one else. I sidled up to him on the dance floor and he looked me over appraisingly, but he shook his head and turned back to the short blond teenager by his side. A momentary infatuation, I decided. Blond, short, much younger and with little muscle definition, the boy was not Brian's type. Annoyed, I left the club and vowed to return next weekend, when the boy would certainly be long forgotten.
I saw him a few days later in a bar. He was playing billiards with his friends and the blond kid was there again. Brian was laughing and smiling, looking so different from his usual arrogant, aloof self. He looked soft and young, his cruel sneer replaced by something a lot kinder. The kid sensed my eyes on Brian and snaked an arm around him. Brian didn't resist. I couldn't understand it. Brian didn't do boyfriends. He didn't fuck the same guy twice. He didn't mix friends and fucks. I was supposed to change all that, not some teenager who was in every way the opposite of what Brian was usually attracted to. I approached the pair.
“We're not interested,” the kid sneered, with a smirk to rival Brian's. I waited for Brian's rebuke, how could this teenager presume to speak for him? But it didn't come. Instead Brian looked at the boy with something like pride in his eyes, as if the youngster had learned a lesson well. Anger and disappointment overwhelmed me. How could this high school kid have achieved what I so desperately craved? I left feeling humiliated and angry. I couldn't wait to see the boy's face when Brian kicked him to the wayside, as he inevitably would.
But he didn't. Although he hadn't changed his ways completely, he still danced with other men, fucked other men in the back room; the new boy was always there, with Brian's friends or somewhere close, and Brian always seemed to come back to him as if the blond kid had some kind of hold over him. It wasn't what was supposed to happen. I was supposed to be that person.
I cornered Brian one night on the dance floor. The blond had left earlier, alone. Brian's eyes were vacant, I'd seen him take drugs before, but he looked really out of it this time. I managed to elbow away my rivals until he was just dancing with me, a vague smile on his face. Being that close to him, seeing the sweat gathering on his brow from the heat and the drugs nearly drove me wild. I moved nearer, and set my hand against his chest, gently stroking him through his thin, grey t-shirt. His eyes briefly met mine, still unfocused, and he smiled blearily. Sliding my other hand up the long, sleek muscles of his arm, I gripped his biceps and pulled him slightly towards me, gauging his resistance. There was none. Here was my chance. I moved even closer to him, winding my arm around his waist. His lips parted and his eyes fell shut. Pressing closer, I moved my lips towards his. I don't think he realised what was happening, but I knew he wouldn't mind when he did. He'd like it. I couldn't wait for a taste of him after so long. The feel of his taut, smooth body against mine, his beautiful face so close, was intoxicating. I moved the hand that gripped his arm up to cup the back of his head, threading my fingers through his thick, silky hair and pressed my lips to his, pushing my groin against his, feeling his length and thickness, his heat radiating against me. Almost immediately I was pushed away and my quarry was ripped from my arms. It was the dark-haired man I had seen with Brian so many times before and his face was set in an angry mask. He barely looked at me, grabbing Brian by the shoulder and shaking him.
“What have you taken, Brian?” he asked, sounding annoyed. Brian blinked and then focused on his friend.
“A,B,C,D, E E E...” he chanted with an idiotic grin.
“Fuck you Brian, we're going home.” With that the dark-haired man tugged on Brian's arm. Brian turned away from me and put his arms around his friend's neck.
“Mikey,” he purred, kissing him on the side of the face.
“You just never learn, do you?” the dark-haired man admonished, but I could see the kiss had mollified him. The angry expression melted away. “It was you who told me friends need to look out for each other.”
“Just let me...” Brian nodded in my direction with a devilish grin.
“We need to go home. Now.” The dark-haired man tugged Brian. As they moved away I heard him say: “That weirdo has been cruising you for weeks, Brian.” I didn't hear what Brian answered, all I knew was that my chance had come and gone, and that I would have to rethink my strategy.
I followed them out, taking care not to be seen. I needn't have worried, though, because Brian was obviously far too high to care, and his friend was completely focused on him. It didn't take a degree in psychology to figure out that the dark-haired man was very much in love with Brian, and that his affection was obviously unrequited on all but a purely friendly level. For an instant I empathised with his predicament and felt pity for him. But at least he had Brian's friendship, at least he could be with his beautiful friend and see him every day, privileges that would never be granted to me, so it seemed.
I knew Brian's car, everyone did, the big black jeep he drove madly around the city, surveying its citizens as if he were their king. I had parked my car close by, and by the time Brian had been manoeuvred into the passenger's seat and his friend had started the engine, I was ready to follow them. After a short drive, the jeep stopped in front of what appeared to be a deserted building originally of industrial design. The dark-haired man opened the passenger door and dragged on Brian's arm amid much remonstration, until he got out of the car. He unlocked the door, pushed Brian inside, and closed it again. Soon afterwards the lights in the top floor came on and I assumed that this was where Brian lived.
I had heard others talk about Brian's infamous loft where he invited those he deemed worthy of spending the night with him; it was said to be as stylish and expensive as he was. But none of those I had spoken to had ever been invited to stay for breakfast, because Brian had a habit of kicking his bedmates out immediately after sex or if not then, at least first thing the next morning. I waited a little to see if Brian's friend would come out again, but obviously he was staying the night. I wondered whether he would be taking advantage of Brian's condition and sharing his bed; I knew I would have. I felt a pang of jealousy. On the other hand, everything that did not involve the blond interloper was an advantage. I was pretty sure that that was where the real danger lay, although I could not understand how a mere sweet-faced teenager had succeeded where so many others, myself included, had failed. What had he done to insinuate himself into Brian's life? In the end I got into my car and drove home. At least I had found out where Brian lived. Now I knew that the direct approach would not work, I would try another angle, a more indirect approach. This time I would get what I wanted. I was not prepared to accept defeat.
- 1
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Be Mine