Alantie's QAF Fics

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Alantie’s
QAF Fictions
LOLA
AU. Not much to be said. It's about Justin embracing his artistic side and being a lovely girl named Lola, whom
Brian Kinney begrudgingly meets one night at Babylon...
Part 1
Brian Kinney only fucks men.
And fuck you if you think otherwise. Only not fuck you if you're a chick, or a dyke, or a transmogrified
whateverthefuck.
Or a twink in drag.
Because honestly: what is the appeal? Either you fuck men, or you fuck women, or you fuck both. Why screw up the
system with some odd little gender-confused cross-dresser? Brian vaguely remembers reading somewhere that guys
like seducing "girls", but finding a cock underneath all the shiny pink fabric. He understands the cock part, but it's
the shiny pink fabric.... well, Brian doesn't think he'll ever be able to wrap his brain around that.
He should know better though. The fucking second he starts thinking about this shit, is the moment that said shit hits
the metaphorical fan.
- - -
Babylon is fucking hot tonight.
Dozens upon/humping dozens of slippery, glittery, half-naked gay boys, their hips rotating, grinding, twisting
against each other. Like a big tangle of dance-music induced sex. Thumpa-thumpa vibrates Brian's chest, hips,
groin, and he feels like he's been waiting hours for this moment. He needs to fuck, and he needs to fuck hard.
Michael is leaning against the bar, one of his hands tucked into Ben's back pocket, both of them laughing and gazing
into each other's eyes. Brian would be disgusted by it if he wasn't so pleased that his friend was happy.
"'lo, Mikey. Professor. What are two lads like you doing in a place like this?" he drawls, nodding to the bartender. A
tumbler of whiskey is immediately set in front of him.
"We told Emmett that we'd come out to meet his friend Lola tonight," Michael explains, shifting his pelvis to the
beat of the music.
"Lola?" Brian asks in a gasp induced by the fiery trail of alcohol burning down his throat.
"One of the first people he met when he came to town, you know, back when he met Godiva? Lola moved to New
York City, an artist or something, and just came back to visit Emmett for a while. She's one of Godiva's lost boys."
And that's why Brian shouldn't think about that kind of shit. Because stuff like THIS happens. It's fate, or the
planets, or jinxing or karma or something. Now he's going to have to make nice with Emmett's little friend, and for
that he's going to have to be drunk, and have been sucked off. By a man, thank you very much.
Twenty minutes and an unsatisfying orgasm later, as he's weaving his way back through the sweaty, hard bodies of
bears, studs, and twinks, he sees them. Their shadows at the end of the flourescent bar, the four of them all blue and
white tones and big laughs. Emmett has arrived, and Michael and Ben are both captivated by the small blond mop of
hair standing in front of them.
Fucking Lola.
What a joke.
He slings his arms over Emmett and Mikey's shoulders to take in the new addition, and instead of seeing some
diminutive hesheit that looks at him with fearful, uncertain doe-like eyes, he finds himself looking at someone who
knows exactly who he is.
Emmett shrugs off his arm. "Hello, Brian. This is my friend Lola. Be nice."
Lola has blue eyes. And extends her hand which Brian takes, tilting his head.
Her drag isn't like any Brian's seen before. It's almost... childlike. Jeans that are obviously a girls, with whisps of
glitter climbing from a bell-bottom hem so wide that only the tips of his red sneakers can be seen. A long, fluttery
top, with lace and sequins and an overall antique doll feel to it, falling from his shoulders to cover his crotch,
making him seem like a prepubescent girl. His shaggy blond hair is pulled back with a red plastic barette on one
side, and his lips, cheeks, and eyelashes are painted like a lady's. A terrifyingly beautiful male lady.
Brian glances away.
"Hi, Brian. It's nice to meet you. Em's told me a lot about you and your friends."
Her voice isn't some lame-ass faux falsetto, and yet it's smoother and higher than it sounds like it could be. It's
chocolate and cherry souffle - dark, strong, and feminine.
"You too.... Lola."
Emmett slaps his arm with the back of his hand. "Brian, be NICE."
Brian shakes his head, laughing with no amusement.
"Jesus, Honeycutt, I didn't say anything! If you want, I can say something that's actually rude so you can have a
decent excuse to hit me..." he drawls out the last word, "No? Okay then. If you'd boys... and girl excuse me, I'm
going to go dance with some real men. Ta-ta, Lola."
He spins and waves sarcastically, "And for that last comment, Emmett, you can smack me later."
The crowd of horny men instantly embraces him, hands all over his body, under his clothes. Lips against his neck.
Men men men, those words go running through his head, and when he opens his eyes to glance in Lola's direction,
he pretends he's looking at her in disgust.
Emmett has his arms around Lola's bird-like shoulders, Lola's eyes are on Brian.
Huh. Interesting.
Not that Brian is, or anything.
- - -
He's been dancing for a while, just enjoying the vibrating, quivering, strobing sensations of the dance floor when a
hand gently closes around his elbow.
Now that's not usual gay-dance-club touching.
He should have known when he'd open his eyes and drop his chin back to earth that there'd be someone else not
usual standing in front of him.
"Everyone has been worshiping you all evening, I had to come out and see what all the fuss was about," she says,
glancing around with a slightly lustful smile on her face.
"Yeah, get in line. I was dancing with him." Brian nods over to a shiny little latino boy with a fucking talented
tongue, gyrating his cock against Brian's thigh.
She gives Shiny Latino Boy a once-over before looking up at Brian. Staring up at him.
"My name's Justin."
"I thought it was Lola."
"Only when I'm dressed as Lola," he explains, scratching behind his left ear.
"It's kind of pathetic you know, that you need to dress like a girl to prove your worth. It's anti-slit-your-wrists
therapy."
Justin tilts his head to the side, long black lashes leaving shadows across his face, "I'm not suicidal, this isn't
therapy."
"Then why do it?"
"You honestly want to know, don't you? This is really shaking up your world."
"Answer the question, Lola," Brian shoots back, eyes wandering around the room briefly before settling on Justin's
Lola-face.
"It's fun? It's liberating?"
"Are those questions?" Brian asks with a smirk. Then Justin looks up at him and smiles, all glitter and bemusement
and Brian's lips turn down into an argumentative frown. "You're a fucking man, not a woman."
"A gay man," Justin points out, fingers quickly rising to touch his barette as if to make sure it still looks okay.
"Still have a dick though, right?"
Justin laughs, head thrown back. His adam's apple bobs under the pale skin, and his left hand cups his balls through
his long frilly shirt. "Yeah right, I'd never give that up."
"But you do... every time you dress up like a pussy."
"It's a form of expression. Welcome to the age of gender confusion. Embrace the chaos, Brian."
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