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(after session 13, part III)
by Randall Morgan

Here it is, folks. Part III of the three parter I promised you on this holiday weekend!! Good boy Randall!!! Enjoy. Thanks to Darren, editor extradonaire, and was it MFB who gave me a little idea....? Or was it Roz? Now I am leaving for a massage! I earned it! R.

Pain Management 101, according to Brian Kinney.

1. Sleep. Impossible, so consider alternative remedy.

Pain Management 101, alternative course, according to Brian Kinney.

1. Jim Beam, liberally consumed. Check. 2. Assorted disco drugs. Check. 3. Disconnect brain. Check. 4. Deploy predatory sexual attitude. Check. 5. Fuck anything that moves. Houston, we have a problem.

Brian had never dangled his dick at so many likely prospects with so little result. They were all sexy, all willing to do whatever he wanted to get off. He wanted to get off. He had no trouble getting and holding an erection. It was the rest of it that proved elusive. Rather than losing himself in the pure visceral pleasure of having his cock sucked or stroking some fine ass he was about to enter, his brain kicked back online and flooded him with reminders that were painful and humiliating and raw. His hard cock urged him to go ahead. But his brain told him you can if you want to, but you won't enjoy it. I'll make sure of that. Even going progressively outlaw, from the backroom at Babylon to the baths to the heavy leather scene at Meat Hook to the glory holes in a notorious rest stop were unable to overcome his pesky brain.

Pain Management 101, desperation course, according to Brian Kinney.

1. Visit the following people to seek emotional shelter: (Forget Justin. He is the source of the pain.)

a. Michael: Forget it. Ben would be there. He was embarrassed to face Ben right now. He was still mad at Michael, too. b. Lindsay: Forget it. Too late and he was too wasted. Mel would chew off his testicles. c. Emmett/Ted: Embarrassed because of scene he pulled in front of Emmett. Ted was never the reassuring kind with Brian. Too many barriers. d. Jeff: Possibility, but too far away. Too wasted. Airline would never let him board a plane like this. e. Debbie/Mom: God, no. f. Lydia: Too late at night to call. Too wasted. She would nag him about it later. g. Molly: He would never let Molly see him this way.

Pain Management 101- beyond desperation course, according to Brian Kinney:

Do something completely stupid and absolutely out of character just to distract yourself from the pain. Check.

Brian leaned his elbow on the doorbell so it made a continuous buzz. Despite the cold, he had long ago shed the jacket to his Prada suit and his Hermes tie. His white dress shirt was wrinkled and untucked. A couple of buttons were fastened in the wrong holes, the result of re-dressing in the dark after a failed sexual cruise. He had the shadow of a beard. He was exhausted. He was drunk. He was high. He was in pain. He was dangerous.

Finally, he heard the lock disengage and the door opened, putting him face to face with Justin's ex. Wrapped in a Chinese red silk robe, he glared up at Brian with the foolish bravado of a man who bought his own bullshit. Anyone else would have double bolted the door and called 911. This one was arrogant enough to believe he was in control.

"What the fuck do you want? He isn't here."

"I know," Brian walked past him and kicked the door shut.

"You're drunk," the ex sneered and Brian turned and smiled slightly at him.

"Ya think?"

Suddenly, the world as it truly existed came into focus for the ex. He was a small, out of shape, non-violent artiste. Brian Kinney was a big, muscular, drunk Irishman with a nasty temper and a bone to pick. "If you don't leave now, I'm calling the police."

"Go for it," Brian challenged him, and when the ex reached for the phone, Brian reached around him and yanked the cord out of the wall, the plastic jack plug splintering into pieces. Now the ex was scared. Brian saw his fear, smelled his fear, reveled in his fear.

The ex reached for a heavy candleholder on the coffee table and took a swing at Brian's head. Not expecting an assault, Brian grabbed his wrist just inches from the intended target and twisted it until the candleholder dropped to the floor. He then grabbed the ex by the throat, picked him up off his feet with one arm and slammed him down to the floor, without ever releasing him, crouching over him like a demented lover. "Stay away from him," he growled through gritted teeth and the ex clawed at Brian's grip on his throat, his face turning crimson. Brian finally released his grip so he could breathe, which he did in long, choking gulps. He didn't try to buck Brian off, so he could stand. He knew it was hopeless; Brian was calling this fight.

"You can have him," his voice was raspy from the choking. "I'm so over him."

"Yeah? Then why did you meet him for lunch? Hold his hand? Have him in tears?" Brian had moved his hands to the other man's wrists, pinning them to the floor without effort.

"That was all for you, you dumb Mick," the ex getting a little braver as Brian became a little more controlled. "To make you worry. To make you see I could play him if I wanted to."


"Because I despise you."

"Because Justin left you to come back to me?"

"Because I don't like to lose."

"Do you even know what he's going through right now?"

The ex grimaced. "That shit with his sister? Big fucking deal. He's not the one who's sick."

"She could die."

"I don't know her. I don't care one way or the other."

Brian nodded and sat back on his haunches, leaning some weight on the man's calves. He didn't release his wrists. "Tell me, ETHAN, I've often wondered about this, having no musical ability of my own. Which hand is more important to a violinist? The one that works the bow or the one that plays the strings?"

"They both are," Ethan responded with a glare that suggested no oaf like Brian Kinney could ever understand the mystery of his genius.

"So, are you telling me I'd have to break both of your hands to wreak the maximum havoc on your career?" He balled Ethan's right hand up inside his left, slowly tightening his fist. Ethan grimaced and squirmed, unable to shake his aggressor.

"Stop it! Are you crazy? I'll sue you for everything you own!"

"Maybe. But right now I'm just this big dumb drunk Mick who can't even think about the consequences of what he does," he tightened his hold, feeling the smaller hand bend in on itself, and then he released it, along with the other wrist. Brian stood up. Ethan didn't move from the rug, staring up at him in horror as he massaged his hand, which was a little sore but undamaged. "I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire," Brian said, walking over to the door. "But believe me about this, slick. You ever come near Justin again and you'll have to pay someone to feed you. That's a promise."

Brian left, went down to his car and lowered the windows to circulate cold air in the interior, combating his drug and alcohol haze. The problem with this course of pain management, it was only effective while in play. Afterwards, embarrassment and regret often increased the misery he was trying to escape. He made it safely to his hotel and to his room, engaging the chain on the door.

"You look like shit," Justin said quietly, and Brian turned, surprised to see him there, leaning in the bedroom doorway, wearing the hotel's robe. As mad as he was at him, he was inexplicably thrilled to see him. But he couldn't let him know it.

"I don't recall telling you to come over here to..." in the middle of his forced cool response, he tripped over the ottoman and landed on his ass in the middle of the floor. He began to laugh and shake his head as Justin came over and hauled him up. Brian stood still, except for a slight weave from side to side, like a stalk of wheat in a breeze. He watched Justin unbutton his shirt. He watched him slide it off his arms. He saw him open his fly and snake his trousers down his legs. He shimmied out of his shoes and socks and let Justin lead him into the bedroom. He stretched out on the bed, watching as Justin opened his robe, and let it drop. He wore nothing underneath.

"Let's fuck," Brian said, replaying his pain management techniques as Justin slipped into his arms and stroked his hair gently.

"Not tonight, Brian. Sleep. Just sleep."

"I don't want to sleep," Brian protested, feeling a warm ennui overtake him with each hypnotic stroke of Justin's hand. "I want to fu..." He was gone. Out like a light. His primary pain management tool, sleep, had been activated by the one man who could make it happen, and resistance was absolutely futile.

Melanie was on her third cup of coffee when Brian called. She wasn't sure if it was the caffeine or the sound of his voice that made her so jumpy. With Brian living in New York, she could go for weeks without remembering he was the father of her son. She liked that ability. Now he was back, albeit temporarily, and she couldn't wait for him to go home.

"Lindsay's not home," she pre-empted him and he sighed.

"I'm calling to talk to you."


"There're two cops at my door. Justin is talking to them right now, but they're here to see me. What should I do?"

"What DID you do is the question, Brian! Do they have a warrant?"

"I don't think so."

"Then you have no obligation to talk to them or let them in. What did you do?"

"Nothing, I..." he hesitated. "Well, I was pretty wasted last night."

"What a surprise. Were you in a wreck?"


"With some underage boy?"

"Shut UP! NO!"

"In a fight?"


"Brian, were you in a fight?"

"Not exactly. A fight suggests two participants."

"You beat someone up?"

"I never laid a hand on the motherfucker!"

"Oh Christ, Brian! When will you ever grow up? Tell me what happened."

He quickly related the high points of his experience with Ethan, and she sighed.

"You fucking moron. That's assault, battery. He could probably make it stick."

"What do I do?"

"Go out there and put me on speaker phone and follow my lead, you jackass."

"Love you too, Mel."

Justin was playing the perfectly charming host with the two officers, one of whom Brian immediately recognized as the cop he fucked in the back of his patrol car awhile back, before he moved from Pittsburgh. The cop's expression suggested he remembered Brian too, and he was horrified that Brian might say something to out him to his homophobic partner. Brian had pulled on a pair of jeans and nothing else, his hair sticking up like a crown of thorns, and his hard night showing on his handsome features.

"Gentlemen," he pressed the speaker button on the phone on the table. "The voice you hear is Melanie Marcus, my lawyer."

"Mr. Kinney, a Mr. Gold called in a complaint. He claims that you appeared at his home at three a.m., and assaulted him. Is that true?" The straight cop stated coldly.

Justin's eyes grew wide as he stared at Brian, who shrugged. "You don't have to talk to these men, Brian. Unless they are charging you, you don't have to say anything," Melanie counseled.

Brian sighed. "It's ok. I did show up at his house. He invited me inside. We had some words."

"About what?" The other cop asked, as the one Brian had fucked allowed his gaze to travel down Brian's bare torso.

"Does it matter?"

"Don't answer that, Brian," Melanie insisted, but Brian ignored her again.

"I told him to stay away from a mutual friend."

Justin groaned and flopped down on the sofa as the cop bore in. "Did you assault him?"

"Brian, DON'T!" Melanie was increasingly insistent.

"He tried to hit me with a candleholder. I deflected it and held his hands down to keep him from trying again. It was self defense."

Justin hid his face in his hands as the cop said, "How big a man are you, Mr. Kinney? Six-one?"


"And Mr. Gold is what? Five six?"

"In stilettos, maybe," Brian quipped, as the cute cop smiled at him. "Yes, I'm bigger than he is, but put a heavy pewter candlestick in a dwarf's hands, and he can cause some damage."

"So you say it was self defense."

"I'm telling you he invited me in. I didn't break in. And he moved on me first, trying to hit me in the head with that thing. Could have killed me. I didn't injure him at all. I just disabled him so he couldn't try it again, and then I left."

"Sounds like a domestic dispute to me, Carl," the cute cop said softly. "Nothing here. Gold has no visible injuries. It's his word against Kinney's."

"Faggots," the other cop grumbled and Brian flashed.

"What did you just say?"

"Brian," Justin took his hand, but he pulled free.

"What was that again?"

"I said 'FAGGOTS'. Did you hear me this time?"

"Carl, let's go," the cute cop looked nervous and Brian glared at them both.

"I heard you. My partner heard you. My lawyer heard you. If this gets any publicity at all, trust me, the whole world will hear about your homophobic views despite the official position of tolerance in this city."

"Just stay away from Mr. Gold," the cute cop handed Brian a card. "Call me if you have any problems." They left. Brian picked up the phone.

"Thanks Mel."

"For what? You didn't listen to anything I said! Brian, grow up. Aren't you a little old for this kind of stuff?"

"Yes, Mel, I am. Thanks, bye," he hung up on her, then turned to Justin who was staring at him in wonder.

"I can't believe you."

Brian shrugged and punched in the line for room service. He ordered coffee and a bagel. He glanced at Justin, who indicated he wanted nothing. When he hung up, he collapsed in a chair, staring straight ahead. "Great way to start the day."

"You threatened Ethan?"

"I was drunk. I was stupid. I don't know why I did it."

"You told him to stay away from me?"


Justin began to laugh and Brian glared at him. "Why is that funny?"

"Because I wouldn't fuck him with YOUR dick!"

"Since when?"

"Since yesterday when I confronted him myself, and discovered just how big a pig he truly is."

"What do you mean?"

Justin told him everything, and Brian sighed. The food arrived. He poured himself some coffee but was suddenly not hungry. "You're telling me Jeff set this up? I don't believe it."

"Why would I lie?"

"You aren't lying. Ethan is."

"Is he? Ask Jeffrey."

Brian cut a glare in his direction. "Even if he did, you chose to meet him. You held hands with him. You never mentioned this meeting to me."

Justin shook his head. "I thought it would be a good thing. I thought he wanted to make peace. And he wanted to tell me how sorry he was about Molly."

Brian remembered what Gold said about Molly last night. He would never be cruel enough to repeat it. "So?"

"So, I met him very publicly for lunch. And when we talked about Molly I got choked up. He reached across the table to hold my hand sympathetically. There was no romance there, Brian. I don't care how it looked to you. It was nothing. If you would just TALK to me. You never TALK before you react."

"I'm talking to you now."

"Sure, after you blew up at me and made yourself sick and got wasted and made a fool of yourself with Ethan."


Justin sighed and went over to him, easing his way onto his lap. "If you're going to be mad at someone, be mad at Jeffrey. He set you up."

"I still don't believe that."

"Ok, Bri. Find out for yourself. You always have to do everything the hard way."

Brian smiled, tilting his pelvis against Justin's ass. "Are you complaining about the hard way now?"

Justin smiled back, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "That cop was so cruising you. The cute one. Have you pulled him?"

"Maybe, who can remember them all?"

"I knew it."

"Shut up," he slipped his hand inside Justin's robe and began massaging his penis. "Fuck me," Justin whispered against his ear.

Justin straddled Brian's strong thighs and leaned over to kiss him deeply as Brian continued his manipulation. Justin could feel him grow hard beneath the denim and he reached down to open the buttons of his fly, exposing his erection. He trailed a line of kisses down his bare belly and then sucked eagerly at his cock, bringing him to full measure. Brian threw his head back with ecstasy, letting the sensation build. Justin raised himself on his knees, and then bent Brian's dick back slightly so he could position it for penetration. It was self-lubed from Justin's wet mouth and Brian's oozing pre-cum. Neither of them mentioned a condom, and neither of them wanted that barrier between them. They had broken new ground and going back was almost impossible. Justin slipped his tongue deep into Brian's mouth as Brian shoved his dick high up into Justin's tight chute.

The pleasure Brian couldn't feel the night before burned within his groin, fueling this fuck. His brain was engaged again, but this time it participated, flooding him with happy enzymes and endorphins, increasing his pleasure rather than dampening it. He was fucking someone he loved, and there was nothing on earth that could imitate that feeling.

Later, after a shower that resulted in more of the same, only wetter, they sat quietly together on the couch, hands interlaced, lost in separate thoughts. "Are you scared?" Brian finally asked and Justin sighed.

"Not scared, really. Apprehensive."

"I think you're very brave to do this," he raised Justin's knuckles up to his lips to kiss them.

"No, I'm not. You were more than ready to volunteer."

"Yeah, but you're actually doing it."

"Are you scared for me?"


"You heard what the doctors said. It's virtually no risk."

"I know. I know you'll be fine...but..."

"You're remembering when I got bashed?"


"Don't think about that. This is nothing, Bri. I'll go home the next day."

Brian nodded, staring down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. "I wish it were me instead."

"So do I," Justin teased and they both laughed. "It's for Molly, Brian. I have no choice."

"I know. I'm proud of you."

"I haven't said this, but thank you for being so wonderful with my kid sister. I can't think of words to tell you how much I love you when I see you with her. It's a side of you I've only seen glimpses of with Gus. It's a side of you that enables me to put up with the rest of your bullshit."

Brian glanced at him and smiled. "I love her. I want her to get well."

"I know."

"Lydia says I've displaced feelings to Molly that I felt when you were hurt and I was so helpless. She's probably right on one level. But I've definitely developed a separate affection for Molly, all her own. I can't stand to see her suffer."

"Me either."

"So, you're going to save her life, you little twat. How about that?" He smiled and pulled Justin closer to him.

"It's not a sure thing. Are you going to resent me if I fail?"

"Baby," Brian raised Justin's chin on his fingertip and smiled at him. "It won't fail. And if the worst happened, whose fault is that? No one's. It's just a cruel fate. I will always admire the fact that you did this, you gave everything you could give, and I'll be there for you. We can hold each other up."

"Oh Brian," Justin hugged him tightly, burying his face on his shoulder as Brian stroked his pale hair and closed his eyes, forcing away his sense of dread.


Disclaimer: The television show Queer As Folk and its characters are the property of Showtime and CowLip Productions. No money is being made. Stories and discussion are intended purely for the entertainment of fans of Queer as Folk, the Brian and Justin characters, and Randall's writings.
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July 25, 2004