Toe Curling
Brian's POV:
Together, we're here in the loft together before he goes off to find his destiny. And I find my thoughts wandering, thinking, going over the last four years of my life, our life, our life together in this strange partnership that somehow has been forged.
Grown, he's grown to become a smart wonderful man. No that's wrong. He's always been smart and wonderful, generous, caring, sensitive. An oh so very sensitive boy. He's just a little older and some what wiser but still so easily swayed. I worry about what will happen to him all alone amongst the wolves on the west coast. This is something he must do, like the prom, his first and only time with a girl, Ian, the anti-Stockwell posters, and his very first time with a man. With me. Something he had to do and I am forever grateful that his first time was with me.
Honor, he's an honorable man, far more honorable than I am. He has principles and he sticks to them, then makes me do the right thing. Makes me do the right thing even when it cost me everything. Well not everything, as he so eloquently pointed out. And then revealed my moment of community with his little fund raiser. I know it looked like Lindsey organized it all but it had the hand of the twat written all over it. The little shit, my little shit.
Time, there were so many times that I thought we'd, I'd never get this far. Brian Kinney doesn't do boyfriends, doesn't do relationships, doesn't do love. I still don't do love. Whatever the fuck love means. I'm still not totally sure but if it means that I can share fun stuff, the fucked up stuff, the satisfying stuff with a man like Justin then I guess I can do love. This kind of love, only the love that comes from Justin.
Fuck! What am I thinking?! Cut a man's ball off and I swear I'm part dyke. I am so fucked.
Fuck, fucked, fucking, sucking, licking, kissing, rimming, fucking, biting, an occasional spank, and dare I say it, making love. How will I do without it, without him. Yeah, I can get laid anywhere, anytime I want but it's not the same. Not as exciting, never as passionate, never as original and down right fun. None can compare with him. I could fuck ten tricks, hundreds and none of them would be as good as he is, make me feel as he makes me feel. Makes me feel. I never felt before him and it scares the shit out of me. He makes me feel. I repeat, I am so fucked.
Passion, the passion in his eyes. The passion in each of his kisses. The passion in his art, in his soul. The passion he elicits within me. The passion he lets loose to make me want him like I've wanted no man before. The passion that drives me to take him with such force that it threatens to split him apart. The passion he demands from me. And the passion he displays when he's sketching or painting, laughing or crying, angry or happy, his passion. His passion for me.
It's toe curling!