Justin stood at the base of yet another set of stairs, peering curiously past the cord that roped it off. Castle Kilkenny, as it turned out, was a lot bigger then it looked from the outside, and there was still a lot to discover. “What’s up there?” he asked.

Behind him stood Colin. True to his word, the young townsman had indeed provided a very informative tour of the castle. “Oh,” he said, waving a hand. “That’s the third floor of this wing. It’s totally banjaxed though; a complete, unrennovated mess. Most of the older sections of the castle are.”

“Hmm.” Justin could remember how Brian had called the estate a ‘fixer upper’. He wondered if the other man knew just how accurate he’d been. ‘Banjaxed’, indeed. Justin desperately wished that Brian had left that stuffy meeting to see the castle with him…

“Well, that’s the entire residential block that you’ve seen,” Colin was announcing. “If you want to see the rest…”

“The rest? You mean there’s more that’s renovated?”

“Sure. There’s a library and a ballroom if you want to see. They even kept the original portrait gallery, I think.”

The library had sounded neat, but at the mention of a gallery, Justin’s attention piqued. “Can we see that? The gallery, I mean. I’m kind of into art.”

Colin only shrugged and gestured for the other man to follow. “Well come on then. It’s this way.” He began to walk away and Justin trailed after him. It occurred to Justin that while Colin didn’t seem outright scornful towards him as some of the other villagers did, he still wasn’t overly enthusiastic about showing him around. As they neared the gallery, Justin worked up the nerve to ask,

“Colin? Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” They’d apparently arrived at their destination, because the man was pushing open one of two very large doors that led into a tall, long room. Paintings lined the impressive stretch of wall from beginning to end. “Giving you a tour?”

“Yeah.” Justin bit his lip. “Why bother? I thought Brian and I were persona non grata in this town.”

For a moment, Colin looked a little uncomfortable, then he said, “I wanted to see if all the fuss about you lot was true.”

“Fuss?” Justin squinted. “What fuss?” They hadn’t been in the town, or even the country for that matter, for more than thirty six hours. “We’ve barely spoken to anyone. How does everyone know about us?”

“This is a tiny village, mate. People here know everything to do about their home. When word got out last year that there was still a living heir to the castle… Well, Maeve figured before anyone else what would happen. Nobody really gave it too much credit. After all; they’d had this land written off as a non-existent museum or whatnot since before most of us were even born, myself included. What was some manky old title of nobility really going to bring about?” It was here that Colin shook his head, this part of the story poignantly remembered. “Well the answer would have been nothing. If it weren’t for that damned Cruise line coming about.”

“Cruise line?” Justin asked. “You mean it was the cruise line that discovered Brian’s inheritance?”

“Ay. We found out later that they’d been poking around other country towns in the south. But nobody else had as good of views of the land, nor good enough waters for those behemoths they like to call ships. Most important: nobody else had a vacant lord who’d sell off his share in a heartbeat. They got one look at Kilkenny and knew they had to have it. The castle was the perfect opportunity for them. I guess they made sure your boyfriend knew about his inheritance, just so that they could buy it off him sooner rather than later.”

Justin blinked, able only to respond with a weakly rehearsed utterance of, “…He’s not my boyfriend.” This sudden information had created a feeling of distaste in Justin’s stomach, as if he’d drunk sour milk. Though it really changed nothing about his and Brian’s circumstances of being in the country, it still made the young man feel as if they were dealing with an awfully ambitious entity. He’d had no idea that Royal Caribbean had been the one to alert Brian to his inheritance…

“Anyways, Maeve was about as smug as she was pissed off. She only got done going round with her ‘told-you-so’s’ a day before you lot showed up.”

“Is that why she was so awful at the pub last night?”

Colin smirked. “Yeah. And ain’t nobody was going to try to be nice to you with her looming over the bar to see.”

“I see.” Justin wondered if he’d ever get a chance to know any Irish people during his short stay, now that public opinion had been set so high against them. “Well we’re not evil people. We’ve got nothing against your town.”

“You don’t even know our town.”

“True.” Justin shrugged, “But that’s the point, isn’t it? Why should Brian keep this place when he has no connection to it or to the country? He doesn’t owe you anything. It’s just a… pile of rocks.”

“That’s a point, to be sure. But is that you talking, or him?”

Justin couldn’t help but to glance sheepishly to the wall of beautiful portraits that they faced. Pile of rocks. Yeah right. “Are ah, are these the old lords of Kilkenny?” he asked, partially to change the subject, but also partially because he wanted to know. The one nearest them looked like it might have borne a slight resemblance.

“Most of them, yes. These are the most recent I believe.” Colin pointed to another painting, and Justin raised his eyebrows the second he saw it. “That one’s the last Lord of Kilkenny. Baron James Kilkenny. He was ousted around eighteen ninety, I believe.”

Justin nodded, “Is it his statue in town?” Somehow, the blonde thought that this painting was a much eerier depiction, because, “It looks just like him.” By him, of course, he meant Brian.

“Yeah, that’s what Maeve said after you two left last night. She’s seen this portrait more than most. She said it was like seeing a ghost come to life, watching him walk through the pub doors. Only I think she mentioned something about good breeding dying out faster than good looks. She don’t like your boyfriend much…”

Justin bit his lip to stop the protest that wanted to come at the word ‘boyfriend’. Jesus, he griped, had Brian really conditioned him so well as to have him recoiling at the word? The thought made him frown, because deep down he knew there was nothing more he’d like than to be declared ‘boyfriend’ by the very man who refused him. Shaking off his sidetracked thoughts, Justin offered, “Well this guy, this Baron Kilkenny; what happened to him?”

“Local legend has it that after they took everything from him, he committed suicide and his wife and child went away to America.” Colin shrugged. “But who knows. Some say he really had no legitimate heir. That the child was some other man’s.”

“Why would they say that?”

Colin fixed Justin with a telling stare. “He’s supposed to have been a bandit.”

“What?”

“A bandit. You know: a batty boy, a bufter, a Mary, a poof, a shirt-lifter, a—”

“—Do you mean,” Justin cut in, not sure that he needed to hear any more British slang for homosexual men, if that was indeed what he was hearing, “that he was gay?”

“Yup. That’s what they say. He had that bloke Oscar Wilde over here all the time as a house guest. They’d throw parties and such. It was quite the scandal for a little town like this.”

Justin couldn’t suppress his frown. He had to wonder what Colin’s attitude was when… “You do know that Brian and I are gay, right?” From the extensive list he’d just heard of what he was pretty sure were mostly derogatory terms, Justin wasn’t quite sure that his acquaintance had figured it out.

But the other man was rolling his eyes dismissively at the question. “I’m not a moron. Of course I do. What sort of rich nobleman travels over here in a vintage Aston Martin, in Armani Privé, with a hot blonde guy to whom he’s not related?”

Justin blushed at being summarized as the ‘hot blonde guy’. But something Colin had said had him squinting in suspicion. “How did you know he was wearing Armani?” Justin asked. What kind of straight man knew catalogue from couture?

A devilish grin split Colin’s face. “What?” he asked, “You think you’re the only fairies in Ireland?”

Oh. Justin figured his gaydar must have been thrown off by the Irish accent, or jetlag. Or something. He smiled faintly. Colin hadn’t given off any of the usual vibes. “For a second there I thought maybe you’d have a problem with us. It’s a really Catholic country.”

“People in Kilkenny don’t care about a couple of queers prancing through town,” Colin was saying. “It’s not as if you’re the first. How’d you two wind up together, if you don’t mind me asking? I don’t know that much about American standards, but he seems a lot older than you.” If the question was blunt, Colin didn’t seem to care. “What’s a grown man like him doing travelling overseas with a teenager?”

“It’s a long story,” Justin hedged. “But basically, I kind of pursued him until he got tired of pushing me away.”

“How romantic.”

“Brian doesn’t do romance. We don’t do romance.” Justin thought of that violin player he’d met with Lindsay—Ethan. He had seemed romantic…

“Well he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

“Boyfriend would be a strong word for it.” Justin shrugged. “It’s… complicated.”

“ ‘It’s a long story’, ‘it’s complicated’. Nothing’s ever simple with you Americans, is it?”

“Yeah.” Justin didn’t know what to say after that, muttering only, “I guess not.”

“Well does he love you? More importantly: do you love him?”

“That’s…” Justin faltered. “That’s personal,” he said lowly. What did love have to do with it anyways? Why did everybody always have to bring up love? Couldn’t it just be him and Brian, being together because they liked it? Justin didn’t say this, but Colin seemed to take the hint nonetheless. Their tour continued through the gallery, and Justin spent the rest of the time mulling over the new thoughts that Colin’s intrusive questions had sparked.

Should he say the truth: that he did love Brian? Justin knew that he loved Brian much more than Brian could ever love him. Should he admit out loud that he was probably willing to put up with that imbalance? Justin didn’t say it to Colin, because he didn’t really want to admit it to himself. If he didn’t say it, then he could go on acting as if what he had was good enough, and that he really didn’t crave more. That he didn’t think about the romantic things Brian wouldn’t do for him, and then imagine the other men—men like Ethan—who would. Besides, it would be a wasted contemplation. Ethan was a poor man’s Brian Kinney any day of the week. They all were.

There was no way that Justin would think of leaving now, because Brian had saved him in more ways than one. Brian had rescued him from his closeted adolescence. He’d sheltered him from the homophobic wrath of his father. He’d taught him what it really meant to be a man, and to be a gay man. He’d given him the confidence to be himself, the support to pursue his art, the courage to defend himself from hate. And he’d saved his life. Brian had given him everything. Everything but his heart. And quite frankly, Justin didn’t expect to get it anytime soon. He really did wish things with Brian could be simpler; that what they were to each other could have a name, could fit inside the lines of some carefully-defined box. But it wasn’t, and it didn’t.

Brian might bow out any day. Justin never knew if he would come back to the loft and find out that the other man had decided to trick late into the night, or that he’d decided that he’d simply had enough of Justin’s presence. That was how tenuous they were. Would they be together like this in five years, in one year, in a month? Justin didn’t know. But he did know that he’d never give up on getting what he wanted. There was no contingency plan. He’d told it to Daphne right from the beginning; he was going to live with Brian Kinney, to be with him. The former had already been achieved. All the latter was going to take was a little time and a hell of a lot of persistence.

And maybe this trip to Ireland could wind up helping them along, after all.

---

One week and four days into their two week sojourn in Kilkenny, Brian had just finished up what would be his final telecommute to work. He’d be back in the states for the real deal once the next workweek started. Though he was planning on a lengthy tropical vacation the first opportunity he got. Walking down one of the corridors in the castle, Brian paused when he heard Justin carrying on a conversation in the upstairs living room. He stopped short of making his presence known, lingering just outside the doorway as he listened to the other man speak. There were two voices going back and forth.

“No, I told you: I can’t. Not this summer. It’s already a week into the program anyway.”

“But we had it all planned out!”

When Brian peeked around the corner, he could spy Justin sitting on the recliner, laptop poised carefully on his legs. Brian listened further…

…From his spot in the chair, Justin watched as Daphne’s features screwed up in confusion over the video conference they were sharing, her voice sounding through the computer’s speakers. “But we had it all planned out! Come on Justin, I know you love Ireland and all, but this was going to be our whole summer. I thought you told Brian,” she complained.

“I did tell him. I mentioned it weeks ago, and will you keep your voice down? He’s around here somewhere. Look, teaching kids how to paint and sculpt is great and all,”

“Handicapped kids,” Daphne reminded pointedly. “Who have no confidence, no role-models, no help.”

“I know they don’t need me there. You said there were dozens of applicants that got turned down. That they had too much help,” Justin defended. “Brian and I are going to travel.”

“But you’re always with Brian! This job was supposed to be fun. Something to do together, to do with the other freshmen going into PIFA!”

“Daph, please don’t get mad…”

“Whatever Justin. You do what you want. I guess I’ll see you at the start of term.” At her friend’s lack of reply, she incensed, “I will see you at college won’t I?!”

“Don’t be stupid. Of course you will.”

“Well for all I know, you’d move off to Bali with him and I’d never hear from you again. How much longer are you two over there for anyways?”

Justin tried not to look too disappointed over the screen as he answered with, “Three more days.”

“Think about the job, will you? I know you want to spend the rest of the summer before school with him, but there are other things, you know? Other people. Brian isn’t the whole world.”

“Tell me that when you’ve kicked Billy Edelstein to the curb.”

“Oh, ho,” Daphne laughed. “At least he’s my age, and at least he intersects with the rest of my life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that Brian’s a generation removed from you and your relationship with him isn’t normal.”

“Ugh, you sound like my mother. Normal is overrated.”

“I just miss you. You’re still my best friend, you know.”

“I know Daph. Just give me a break this summer, okay?” Justin bit his lip, fretting over what he’d divulge next. “I don’t know what it’s going to be like with him once I start college. I don’t know if he’ll still…”

“If he’ll still what?” Daphne asked good-naturedly. She was always so good-natured. Justin didn’t want to bring her down with his drama, so he evaded, saying,

“Nothing. Never mind. It’s pretty late here with the time difference. I’ve got to go to bed. Talk to you again soon?”…

… Brian was still listening, feeling increasingly guilty for eavesdropping as he heard Justin say,

“Talk to you again soon?”

“Yeah.”

Brian stood outside the room as Justin and Daphne could be heard saying goodbye. He bit his lip as he wondered whether or not he should make his presence known, but in the end decided against it. So Justin was giving up opportunities in favor of him? Brian frowned. That didn’t bode well. Justin was obviously contemplating a serious point about their relationship, and Brian had no desire to get trapped into a talk about that. Not yet at least, since he’d have to think about just what to say to the little twat for sacrificing his plans so impetuously.

So instead of joining the kid in the living room, Brian walked back down the hall in the direction he’d come.

---

The sky over Castle Kilkenny was covered in clouds that blocked the day’s sun. It was typical, damp, Irish spring weather, with dew still hugging the shadier sides of plants, and birds hopping about in search of worms that hadn’t yet dug into the ground. It was a picturesque morning on the Island, and from the front of the castle it was a morning that could for all the world have been taken straight from the year 1902, instead of a century later. 

But behind the castle, the picturesque scene was interrupted with the sight of a half-naked and sweaty man, bent over his car; the country silence broken by the tones of Guns and Roses’ ‘Sympathy for the Devil’, playing at full volume out of that same man’s back pocket.

“Please allow me, to introduce myself! I’m a man. of wealth. and taste…”

“That may be, but did you know that you cannot sing?”

“Pleased to meet you! Hope you guessed my name!”

“Um: clearly it’s Satan. Listening to you sing is like the third circle of hell.”

Brian was detailing the car. Justin sat on the stairs that led out to the expansive back yard, eating a sandwich and watching as the lord of Kilkenny performed manual labor. Brian had shed his shirt long ago, sweaty despite the overcast weather. The muscles in his arms and back strained as he bent over the vehicle with cloth and polish, and Justin certainly wasn’t complaining about the view. “Shouldn’t you have a servant to do that for you?” he asked with amusement. “Lord Kilkenny, waxing his car. Who’d have ever thought it?”

“It’s KINNEY,” Brian glared, breaking away from his attempts at singing. “And the only servant I have is you. Unfortunately there’s only one thing you’re really good at servicing…”

“Hey!” Justin threw a piece of his sandwich at the other man, gesturing at it when it hit the ground near Brian’s feet. “Sandwich? I can cook, too.”

“You don’t know anything about cars.”

“I know enough to tell you that you’re stupid to clean a rental.”

“Who said it’s still a rental?” Brian glanced back haughtily over his shoulder. “I bought it yesterday.”

Justin’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline. Oh, rich men and their toys. “Going to have it shipped back to the states?”

“Well I’m not leaving it here. We’re gone in a couple of days.”

Justin nodded sadly, trying not to let it show just how much he wished they could remain. It was crazy how fast two weeks went by. “Don’t think you’ll ever come back?” he asked airily, though he did watch carefully for Brian’s reaction.

“Why the hell would I? For the fabulous weather?” Brian scoffed. “I’ll be working on my tan on the beaches of Barbados by the time they anchor the first ship outside this miserable little hamlet.”

“Mmm,” Justin agreed noncommittally. He stood and walked over to lean backwards against the hood of the car, right next to where Brian was waxing. “I can’t imagine what I’ll be doing while you’re off spending your millions of—”

“—Hey! Watch where you put your ass.” Brian was looking scornfully down to where Justin’s backside marred his newly-polished vehicle.

“You never complained about where I put my ass, before.”

Justin’s quip caused Brian to smirk. His expression sobered though as he asked, “So, what will you be doing while I’m Island-hopping?”

“Drawing your gorgeous naked body while you lay on the beach?” With one of his hands, Justin reached to touch Brian’s bared shoulder, running covetous fingers down the front of his chest. “Then I’ll sell it as porn to the locals, for loads of money of course.”

“You know, while that does sound nice, I thought you had other plans? With Daphne?”

“Oh, jeeze.” Was Brian really going to start on this track of conversation again? Justin rolled his eyes. It was so trite. “I like your plans better,” he supplied obstinately. “I hear Bali’s divine this time of year.”

“I thought you guys were going to work that summer job? Teaching art to cripples?”

Justin glared over at the other man, “Don’t use that word, Brian.” Brian had cornered him up against the hood of the car,

“Don’t you ever wish for something normal?”

“Normal?”

“Yes: normal. Like hanging around kids your own age. Like summer jobs with Daphne. Like fucking around and tricking with guys, getting drunk with your buddies, meeting other people through your classes, through your hobbies, through work. I think they’re called normative experiences, or something.”

“Formative experiences,” Justin corrected. “I have that. With you.”

“No, you don’t. What I give you… it’s different. You may like it and all, but it’s not what other gay boys your age are doing.” Brian gestured down to himself as if in example, “Look at me! Look at where we are and what we’re doing here. It’s not normal. Why did you tell Daphne you weren’t doing the job with her anymore? You could have had fun. Met people.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to ‘meet people’. I want to be with you.” Why couldn’t Brian see that? Why did he always have to push and push? Justin glanced up to the handsome visage of the man who had him trapped against the car. Brian was leaning ever closer,

“You’ve been chasing after me since you met me,” he urged. “Doesn’t it get old? Aren’t you embarrassed?”

“No. Why should I be?”

“It’s immature.”

“That’s rich, coming from you. Why does my fixation with you have to come from an immature place? Everyone assumes that.” Justin fumed. “They assume that I’m some naive little teenager who’s completely blinded. But I say: I know what I want and I’ll do what I have to, to get it. I say: that’s not immaturity, it’s smart business practice.”

“Even when I’ve told you that you can’t have it?” Brian leaned in, and the backs of Justin’s legs were pressed even harder into the grill of the car. “I’m not your boyfriend. Do you think I’m lying when I say that? That if you stick around long enough, I’ll change?”

“Something will change.”

“You’re a fool. A beautiful, smart-assed, blonde sex maniac of a fool, but still…” his tone softened as he laid a kiss on Justin’s lips, “a fool.”

“I disagree. Look Brian, if that’s what you think then fine. Like you said: I can’t change it. At least not right now. But we both know that I wouldn’t be here with you now if you didn’t care about me.” Now it was Justin’s turn to take advantage of their position. He held Brian’s face long enough to kiss him passionately. And when he’d pulled far enough away to observe the man’s bemused expression, he followed up his earlier words by saying, “I don’t need you to admit it to me today, or tomorrow. But eventually, you will.” His tone was overly confident, as were his hands as he reached down to palm Brian through his jeans. “Being with you is my formative experience.”

Brian exhaled a sigh of pleasure as Justin grabbed him through the denim. “Fucking teenagers. You think you know so much.”

“I know how to get you hard faster than a—”

However Justin had been planning to finish that sentence, he never got the chance as Brian cut him off by shoving his tongue down his throat. Justin’s arms shot back to support himself against the hood of the car, Brian assaulting him with rough kisses. “Ugh, Brian,” he turned his head away as the other man bit at his neck and undid his pants. “Wait are you gonna—oh! Mmmm…” Brian had stuck his hand down the back of Justin’s pants. “Out here?” They were in the middle of the castle’s courtyard as Brian molested him against the car.

“Yes, out here,” Brian gruffed. He was going to fuck Justin against his shiny new car. It seemed like a wonderful idea. He’d bought lube from the only drug store town on their second day in Kilkenny, and even though it’d earned him judgmental looks from the employees at the counter, it’d been an absolute necessity. Because no way had he been prepared to go without fucking Justin for the whole trip. He dug around for it in his own jeans pocket as he ordered Justin around.

Justin’s eyes closed of their own volition at hearing Brian tell him to ‘turn around’ in such a low and sexy voice. He hurried to comply, all of his attention on the man moving behind his back. “But wait,” he protested, “what if someone sees?”

Brian nearly laughed, his fingers finally closing around lube and a condom in his pocket. “First of all: this castle is on the outskirts of town. There’s no one around for miles. Second: even if there were, I’m sure they’d enjoy getting an eyeful of what I’m about to do to you. Now,” he spoke close to Justin’s ear, enjoying the tangible shiver that ran through the kid’s body where he had him pressed against the car, “bend over… and feel free to be as loud as you want.” His lubed fingers stroked lightly over Justin’s hole, eliciting the barest of whimpers when one pressed in. “Because nobody’s going to hear.”

“Brian—”

The tear of the condom wrapper was heard, its sound like a warning to the man against the car of what was to come. Justin bit his lip in anticipation, bracing himself with hands against the metal. He knew, even as he sensed Brian slicking himself behind, that he would relish this. He and Brian hadn’t done it in three days—not since the other man had overheard him on the computer with Daphne and confronted him about it. And maybe the two of them were still in disagreement, but Justin was also still nineteen years old, and for him three days was practically a dry spell. So as he felt Brian prepping him with anxious fingers, Justin husked back, “Make it good. I want to come so hard my vision blacks out.”

Brian’s response was immediate. He seemed to like Justin’s bossy words, his large hands immediately leaving their careful ministrations behind and moving to push Justin roughly down. Justin gave a soft ‘oomph’ as his arms gave out, chest meeting the cool metal of the car hood. “Ouch Brian. Be careful!”

“I’ll be careful. Spread your legs.” He didn’t wait for him to comply before kicking Justin’s legs wider apart. The jeans and underwear that Justin had been wearing strained tighter where they’d been bunched against his thighs, his backside completely exposed. Brian licked his lips at the sight. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now?” he asked, using one hand to push the edge of Justin’s tee shirt up his back. “Do you?” Justin moaned. “You look like a cock hungry little whore.”

“Hell Brian!” The back of Justin’s neck was flushed with red. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

Justin’s shirt still fisted in his hand, Brian failed to respond. He was too busy staring down at the hot young thing he had spread across the front of his new purchase. Justin was dying for it, he could tell. He was pushing his ass out like he was begging for it. He was begging for it, just like always. Brian smirked at the reminder that he was all that Justin wanted, all he ever wanted. Justin’s attachment might have bordered on obsession, but at least Brian had the pleasure of knowing that this gorgeous young man, this twink of a wet dream, wanted nothing more than him. Brian’s erection grew with his ego, and he rubbed the head against the heat of Justin’s backside. “I’m going to fuck you,” he announced. “I’m going to fuck you all—”

“—‘all afternoon long’. Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Justin’s hand had slipped from the car’s hood to grab his dick. Both men could feel as he jerked himself off in impatience. “Can we commence with the fucking?”

“Sure thing princess.” Brian pinned him down with one hand, while he used the other to guide himself home. Both men hissed when their bodies came together. “Oh, yeah...”

“Fuck. Oooh. Oh be careful.” Justin’s hand slipped a little where it was supporting him, all the damned wax that Brian had applied to the vehicle making it difficult to find purchase. After a moment of scrambling he resigned himself to simply laying prone on the car. Brian would take control of it. He’d fuck him good this way. Besides, Justin consoled himself; he’d be sure to fuck Brian at least once before they departed the island. It was on his tourism to-do list. As the man behind fucked him, Justin’s thoughts veered off in the direction of one of his most taboo fantasies: him topping Brian.

Brian was completely oblivious to Justin’s thoughts as he moved his hips in the first slow, unsteady thrusts of their sex. The sight of Justin getting fucked over the car had his pulse racing, it was so damned erotic. What was it about an exorbitant fuck, had right on top of an exorbitant purchase, that was so riling? Brian figured it must be something to do with power, the way that some other men got so excited about large-breasted women and automatic rifles. Brian Kinney had everything he wanted displayed right in front of him: the world and Justin Taylor. They were his for the taking.

And he was going to fuck both.