Title: It's Good to be the King

Characters: Brian Kinney & Justin Taylor

Rating: NC-17 (to be on the safe side for M/M sex)

Summary: The story told from both Brian and Justin's POV during the "King of Babylon" contest and through to the next morning.

Author's Note: Just a little idea I had once upon a time. The dialogue is canon from the Season 1 episode #20 ~ 'King of Babylon'. This is one of my favorite episodes. I love how Gale plays Brian so well through mostly his facial expressions in this ep and especially LUV watching Randy work that pole as Justin! ^_^

Author's Note 2:If anyone is interested, the video clips of these scenes are posted to my LJ: http:/ soul1essharpy*livejournal*com/12159*html (stupid FF & links!) *'s are dots, btw.

Author's Note 3: I found an old backup disc from a few years ago while going through some boxes and came across this and a few of my other QAF fics that I had written way back when. I have to go through and do some edits, but intend to post them as soon as I get the chance.

The Contest: Brian's POV

I hear the intro, "The next contestant loves the Power Puff Girls, Margaritas and older men who take him for granted. Here's Justy!". No, it couldn't be...he wouldn't, would he?. I turn around from the bar slowly and look at the stage. Sure enough, wearing a cowboy hat with his pants low on his hips and his shirt newly fringed and pulled up behind his neck, baring his chest for all of Babylon to see...is Justin.

He stares directly at me, hand on the cowboy hat, silently daring me to react in some way as the music starts and he starts to dance, seductively rolling his hips to the beat. The crowd starts to whistle and cheer as they stare at him with eyes full of lust as he sways seductively to the music, the twink I have just pulled can't keep his eyes off Justin, either, even with my tongue down his throat. I have this indescribable urge to suddenly be anywhere but here. This is fucking bullshit and I have no intention of hanging around, so I grab the trick's arm to leave and the little fuck has the nerve to resist ME, telling ME to "Wait", his eyes never leaving the stage.

I'm Brian Kinney for fuck's sake, who does this trick think he is? I can see Justin watch this little show smugly while he continues his own up on stage, playing to the crowd, knowing he can have his pick of the lot, knowing I am watching. I can't help but watch. Justin is beautiful, but a half-naked Justin? He has an incredible body and he knows it and the way he moves it...he knows exactly what an effect it can have. The fags in the front are reaching up and touching him as he dances. He is loving the attention from the crowd...a little bit too much for my taste.

Those fuckers need to get their fucking hands off him. What? Where did THAT come from? What the fuck does it matter to me? We're not a couple of fucking heteros, we're not married he can do whatever and whoever he pleases. So why do I feel like the floor dropped from under my feet? I have to look away, feigning indifference, refusing to let him see just how much this has started to fuck with me. It is crystal-fucking clear what Sunshine intends to accomplish with this little display of his and I refuse to indulge him or to let this little twat succeed.

He grinds his cock against the pole repeatedly amidst the cheers and cat-calls before slowly starting to unzip his pants as he rotates his hips and ass slowly. I flash to the other night at the loft as we fucked on the chaise and he rolled his hips just like that as he skillfully rode my cock. I start to get hard remembering how tight and hot his sweet ass is around my cock. He drops his pants and I snap back to the reality where he's on stage in front of all Liberty Ave (as far as I'm concerned) in his underwear, rubbing his beautiful cock and tight little bubble butt all over the pole to the wet dreams of every queer in the place. I know how that ass feels when he grinds it against my dick like that as we dance and I am getting harder by the minute.

Suddenly, I'm acutely aware of a tightness in my throat and chest and a churning in my gut as my eyes go to the crowd and see the lusty glances and longing on far too many faces for my liking. I fight the painful and primal urge to go yank his ass off that fucking stage. No one but me is allowed to look at my Justin that way! Wait... "my Justin" where the fuck did that thought come from? When did I start thinking of him as "my" anything? I don't do relationships, I remind myself. Oh, Christ, I'm turning into a dyke! The song winds down (Finally!) as he takes off the hat and tosses it into the cheering crowd of horny fags.

"I believe we have a winner. Everybody down on your knees, (where I know you all want to be) for the new King of Babylon, His Royal Highness...Justy!"

The twink starts cheering and whooping with the rest of the crowd as I roll my eyes in annoyance. My eyes are locked on Justin as he winds his way from the stage through the crowd. Bristling, I watch as fag after fag either openly cruises him or clamors to touch, caress him, (shove their fucking number in his pocket?) as he passes by. He smiles that fucking irresistible 'Sunshine' smile as they vie for his attention. He stops in front of me at the bar, still smiling that mega-watt smile.

"Did you see me?" he asks with all the bright exuberance of toddler whose performed some amazing trick.

"Yeah, I saw you." I answer him flatly, trying my level best to keep my face schooled into the usual blank mask. Right now, that's a real challenge.

His smile wanes as he realises I am not going to acknowledge how hot he was up there. "Well?"

I know the reaction he is wants from me, but I'll be damned if I let him play me. So I answer him with all the disdain I can manage, though I doubt it will surprise him. "I think that contest was rigged." I see his face go blank and I know without a doubt I hurt him by saying it, but I don't care.

The trick next to me looks at me in awe. "You know him?"

"Yeah. I taught him everything he knows." A smug smile plastered on my face, even though I know damn well I have nothing to do with how amazingly he just rocked that stage with his sexy little ass. He wants to play games and push me, I'll push right back.

I feel a knot form in my gut when I see his expression tighten and he snaps out, "Except how to dance."

I stare at Justin in mild amazement and almost a kind of pride as he cruises the twink, hard, right in front of me. No way is he going to try and steal my trick, I think. Then again, I never thought he'd get up on that stage tonight, either, after what he said this morning.

He turns on the Sunshine charm and starts to chat the twink up." What's your name?" He nods his head in my direction and waves his hand at me. "I'd ask him, only I'm sure he doesn't know." The little twat is going to go for him!

"Sean" the twink looks at him like Justin's the fucking high-school quarterback and he has just asked him to Prom.

"You're hot. I was watching you." I have to admit to myself Justin knows what he's doing and is pretty impressive at getting what he wants. Wait! What? He's cruising my trick right in front of me, no less, and I'm praising him? What the fuck?

"You were?" the trick is lapping it up like a hungry kitten.

"It made me wanna fuck all night." He looks at me briefly as I watch this little exchange, dumb-founded as my world suddenly spins off-kilter. "You wanna get out of here?"

"You lead." answers the trick, almost giddy. Justin silently grabs the trick by the hand and turns to walk away, leaving me staring at his retreating back. I am temporarily, and uncharacteristically... speechless.

With my rational thought processes temporarily short-circuited, I can't stop the words before they escape my mouth. "I thought we had plans." I groaned inwardly. It made me sound so clingy, so lesbionic. Fuck me.

Justin whipped around with a snort, and snarked "If you couldn't do better. I told you I might have plans, too." Little shit.

The twink never looks at me, asking Justin "What's his problem?"

Justin simply deadpans "He's just my stalker." I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me, it feels like a physical kick to the gut to hear him say it.

"I suppose we could have a three-way, only he's kinda old." the trick offers. I feel a little more air leave my lungs as Justin just looks as he laughs, like he agrees with with the trick. He really is just pushing me, trying to teach me a lesson, isn't he? Shit, he's got me second guessing myself and thinking like a fucking love-sick little faggot.

"We're also kind of leaving." He can't be serious, he's got to be kidding. Right? He puts his arm around the trick and walks away, leaving me to stare at his back again in disbelief, wondering just what in the FUCK happened here...

The Back Room: Brian POV

I know exactly where he's going, so I follow. We've done this dance before, many trips to the back room, Justin and I fucking or sucking each other, or each with some trick for a blowjob. This time, it was Justin and some trick, only Justin. I realise as I follow them that I really am not liking this situation at all. The thought of someone else with their dick in Justin's beautiful ass...is making me possessive and what is that? jealousy? No, that was for munchers. Justin's ass however, that was only for me, no one else. My mind screams to turn the opposite way and go get a trick of my own and not follow him, but the pull to follow him and see him getting fucked by this trick... raises my masochistic tendencies to a whole new level.

I reach the bottom of the stairs and look around for them amidst the couples fucking and sucking that are pressed against every wall, but I don't see them at first. I look through the open staircase, thinking I see them against the wall behind it. I walk around the stairs for a better look and stop dead in my tracks. I thought I knew what to expect following him down here, but I did not expect this. I stare in disbelief and surprise, along with something I can't quite put my finger on, (Fuck. Is that? What is that?) at the sight of my Justin (Christ! There it is again!) buried balls deep in the twinks tight ass, pounding him into the wall with every thrust like a pro.

I stand, frozen in place, watching Justin with, dare I say it? Jealousy? Maybe a hint of...is that pride? My eyes explore every bit of the work of art that is Justin when he's fucking. The light sheen of sweat on his forehead and the flush to his skin, that talented mouth with it's plump lips parted open, letting the soft moans and grunts that go straight to my cock escape. Then to his biceps flexing as he tightens those long fingers currently burrowing deep into hips, and most of all his gorgeous little ass as it tenses with every stroke, continuing the hypnotic in and out rhythm of his dick in this privileged twinks ass. I am at war with myself. Part of me is seriously turned on now, Justin mid-fuck is an amazing show, while the other part of me wants to rip him off the twink and drag him home (home ?) and fuck him senseless.

My throat tightens again as I watch them, the look of pure pleasure on Justin's face obvious as he tops the twink. I watch, silently denying to myself that this hurts, seeing Justin fucking this twink. The realisation dawns that yes, I am jealous... of the twink. It should be me with Justin's dick pounding into my ass! (Shit, Wait. WHAT?) No, Brian Kinney never bottoms...I'm the Alpha, the TOP dog. Fuck. I need to go, get out as I see the twink turn his head to kiss Justin on the mouth. The same soft warm mouth that I can't get enough of, (which I would never admit to out loud, for fear of sounding far too lesbionic for my taste). I quickly turn and go back upstairs, being the only one here alone and not fucking/sucking or being fucked/sucked. I hope to hell that no one can see what I am sure is obvious on my face...that the little twat was right. Brian Kinney gives a shit. Fuck.

The Diner: Brian POV

Good-fucking morning to me. I slept for complete shit last night, for some reason I couldn't find it in me to trick. I wonder why. So, for the first time in a long time, Brian Kinney, the stud of Liberty Avenue went home... alone. (Kind of explains the shitty mood I'm in but seriously, what explains this coffee?)

"Ugh, this coffee is for shit."

"So Justin's the new King of Babylon?" Mikey says in that irritating way of his, trying to provoke a reaction out of me.

"The cub caught the lion's prey, hmm." Emmett says smugly into his cup of coffee.

Theodore chimes in from the other side, enjoying your not-so-obvious misery, "So even though you'd like to rest on your laurels, secure in your power, now you know they are snapping at your heels and you're going to have to run faster and faster-"

"So why don't you pass the fucking sugar." I snap as I look up from the paper I am pretending to read, wondering just how many people heard about Justin taking that twink from me last night.

"You should be proud of him. Like father, like son." Emmett quips.

Thankfully they all shut their damn mouths as they get swept up in the drama little Emmy Lou had going on last night as his "former flame" (as Mikey puts it) walks into the diner with a new trick. God, am I ever glad for his penchant for drama sometimes. I really am not in the mood to listen to their shit this morning. I go back to "reading" my paper when suddenly the bell rings as Justin walks in and joins us amid claps from Blake and Mikey and a cheer of "Hail to the King." from Ted.

"What a night!" he says as he sits down heavily across the booth from me as if exhausted.

I can't help myself. "So, how was he?" I ask, as indifferently as I can manage, careful my eyes never leave the paper in front of me. So much for that idea.

He looked me in the eye as he says matter-of-factually, "He had the greatest ass. I brought him back and fucked him all night." as an after-thought to Mikey, "My dick's gonna be sore for a week."

There was a slight knife in the gut at that comment. He knows he's getting to me just like I know that he is just saying it to prove a point. (At least I hope he is.) I try hard to keep the mask in place, but he knows me too well, and he's pushing it. "That's enough."

"Actually, I'd like to hear more..." Mikey says, egging him on. Justin seems a little too eager to get along with Mikey this morning. (He'll pay for that later, the little twat.)

Ted is an asshole about it, too. He really is enjoying this too much. "Speak slowly and e-nun-ci-ate."

His hand was hanging off Blake's shoulder so I reach over and flick him, even though I really want to slap him to shut him up. That, I think, would give a little too much away...more than I am ready to. I quickly realise by the feeling in my gut that I really don't want to hear the details. Then again, I tell myself that maybe it was just the coffee. (Really, what was with this coffee, today?) I really try very hard to concentrate on the paper in my hand, but can't, so I do a hell of a job pretending.

"He gave great head. He wanted me to fuck him with my crown on." they all have a quick laugh at that. I don't find it funny. "It was kind of kinky." I can feel him staring at me, deliberate in what he says and how he says it, trying to get a reaction from me.

"Then, he started to get real clingy, wanting to know when he could see me again..." he let the sentence trail away as he instinctively knew I would look up at him at that statement, remembering our own 'morning after' conversation.

"So, what did you tell him?" my eyes lock on his face as he looks down at the table kind of shyly before answering with a smirk. I ask myself if I really am ready to hear his answer or not, but I guess it's a little too late now.

He chuckles slightly and looks at me as he says "I told him he could see me in his dreams."

I have to fight to hold back a grin, though I know he sees it in my eyes, even if no one else catches it. I can see the look on Mikey's face as he remembers where he heard it before and looks between Justin and I as we stare at each other in silent understanding.