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Chapter 4: Papa Don't Preach

Here is the next installment of Mickey Dee. Thanks to Darren and Alan for the beta, and to Pfyre, as always, for posting and maintenance!! Enjoy, R.

Mick was squeaky clean, wearing Brian's navy silk robe while his own clothes were being laundered. He made himself at home in Brian's loft, surfing through the channels on the flat screen of the television while Michael, Brian and Justin talked quietly in the kitchen.

"What will you say to her?" Michael queried as Brian scowled at him.

"I don't know, Mikey, I don't have a script."

"Are you mad at her?" Justin asked. Brian was more forgiving towards his lover.

"About what?"

"Well, if he is your kid, for not telling you about him."

"I can't say I'm mad, Justin. I'm confused. I have a lot of questions. But I'm not angry."

"You should be," Michael insisted. "I never trusted her."

"Mikey, you were so jealous of Dee you couldn't see straight," Brian reminded him. Michael glared at him.

"I couldn't see YOU acting STRAIGHT, that's for sure!"

"I wasn't ACTING any way, Mikey. I was a kid, I was experimenting with a lot of feelings and things."

"She was after you from the first time she saw you."

"So was I," Justin said with a laugh. "And so were you, Michael."

"Speak for yourself," Michael said with a frown. "Brian and I don't have that kind of thing."

"Much to your disappointment," Justin teased. Brian cut him a glare and he shrugged and smiled.

"What I don't understand," Michael went on, ignoring Justin, "is why she split right when she had you where she wanted you. Trapped like a rat."

"Maybe because she never meant to trap me, Mikey?"

"Yes, she did."

"You didn't know her the way I did."

"I knew her enough to see she was crazy about you."

"She had a complicated family situation. It wasn't all that easy for her, or for me. And...oh fuck it. I'm going to walk to the store and get some cigarettes."

"I'll go with you," Justin offered, but Brian shook his head.

"I want some time alone. Just make sure the kid doesn't leave, ok?" he picked up his cellular phone as he left, ignoring Justin's hurt expression.

"Trouble with a capital T," Michael said ominously, and Justin shrugged and joined Mick. He had more understanding of Brian's youthful experimentation with a girl than did Michael. The fact that Michael lacked that curiosity didn't make either Brian or Justin freaks. What mattered was that Brian knew who he was and what he wanted now, and no reunion with Dee Anderson was going to change that fact.

As Brian walked down the street, he noticed the chill, wondering if he had ever lived through an Indian Summer as mild and pleasant as the one Pittsburgh enjoyed the September he met Dee. Was it the distant haze of youth that made it seem so ideal, or was it really that wonderful? Well, all of it wasn't wonderful. That was the fall his father sold his deceased grandparents' farm. The farm was the one place where Brian felt safe and loved as a child. He still remembered how he felt at the moment his father announced he had made the decision to sell. Some pain is so intense, it becomes permanently embedded in the memory banks, and this had been just such an occasion.


Dinner at the Kinney house was often tense. When Jack had been drinking steadily since he came home from work, an element of fear entered the charged atmosphere for Brian. He was most likely to get backhanded by Jack for some perceived but unintended slight. Strangely, that night Jack Kinney seemed almost jovial. He was laughing, too loudly, and complimenting his wife on her meat loaf, too effusively. He teased Claire about her boyfriend , the man she ultimately married, until she blushed and giggled. He mercifully left Brian alone. In his early forties, Jack was still a handsome man, maintaining his lean physique with hard work. The excess booze had not yet affected his looks. It was not surprising that he did so well with the ladies. His handsome face combined with an oily charm and Irish gift of gab to ensure he could still pull them in.

Brian was almost enjoying dinner. He was even given the chance to talk about his last soccer game, and some of his better plays. Jack nodded, pretending to understand why his tall, athletic son picked some pansy game like soccer over football. Suddenly, Jack interrupted Brian's sports report.

"I've decided to sell the farm."

"What farm?" Brian asked numbly, his stomach beginning to churn.

"What do you mean, 'what farm'? How many damn farms do you think I have, Sonny Boy? I'm not a freakin' Rockefeller! My father's farm!"

"You can't do that," Brian insisted and his father's look had the warmth of a raptor as he focused on him.

"Don't you fucking tell me what to do with my property, Sonny Boy! I have an offer on the old place, and I'm taking it. It's just a drain, having to pay someone to take care of it. We could use the money."

"B-but it's been in the family for generations!" Brian protested. His mother placed a hand on his arm, trying to stop him, to divert him back to safety, but he pulled free. "What will your brothers and sisters say?"

"Hey, the old man left that farm to me, not them. If they don't like it, they can kiss my ass!"

Brian couldn't force down the food he had in his mouth. He had to flush it down his constricted esophagus with a gulp of milk. His eyes watered, and he felt his face grow red as he thought of how many of his fond childhood memories were enclosed in the sanctuary of that farm. The pond where his grandfather taught him how to fish. The chicken coop where he gathered fresh eggs with his grandmother for breakfast. The horses who grazed the meadows, waiting to be ridden on a dappled summer afternoon. His room in the house, under the eaves of the attic, with an old fashioned radio for entertainment. Listening to baseball games in that room with his grandfather late in the evening, the old man rocking in the rope-seated rocker while Brian tried to stay awake in the bed. That was the best way to enjoy a lazy summer game. Food was always fresh and ample there, hugs were plentiful, everything he did seemed to please his grandparents. It was the one place where he felt totally accepted and completely safe.

"Y-you can't sell that farm!" he exclaimed, getting to his feet, ignoring his mother's warning wince.

"Sit down Sonny Boy, or I'll knock you down," Jack seethed and Brian glared back at him. He was as big as Jack now, if not bigger. Maybe it was time to stop being his punching bag.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Brian said coldly.

"You threatening me, boy?"

"Jack, please..." his wife tried to intervene. "Brian, sit down. Please!"

"It's not just YOUR farm! It belongs to the family! It has generations of family history in those walls! Don't you care at all about your family history?" Brian challenged his father.

Jack leaned back and smirked at the red-faced boy, watching a tear break free to streak his son's smooth cheek. "Bunch of potato- grubbing Micks," he said with a sneer. "What's so great about that? I hated that place. It's close to nowhere, work from dawn until dark and for what? Barely made enough income to pay the taxes on it. You see yourself as a farmer, boy? Out there digging in the dirt? Milking cows? Slaughtering pigs? Fancy ass boy like you? Crybaby little sissy boy?"

"You..." Brian started to say, but Joan intervened. Brian tensed and took a threatening move towards his father. She placed both hands on his chest, pushing her son back. Jack got to his feet with a laugh.

"You think you're big enough to take me on, Sonny Boy? Well, come and get it!"

Brian paused, looking into his mother's pleading face and then at the mask of rage Jack wore. It wasn't worth it. He shook his head, running out the kitchen door, hearing Jack yell, "Run to your little girlfriend Mikey! Why don't you ever go out with a girl like any normal boy your age? You faggot-in-training!" This last part he screamed out the back door, not caring if the neighbors heard him or not.

Brian ran, but not to Michael's house. He ran to the main road fronting the neighborhood, hitching a ride with the first car whose driver was willing to pull over. The driver was a man not unlike his own father in age and social strata. He had obviously imbibed a few beers after work, but was far more mellow than Jack.

"Where you going, kid?" he asked Brian, who shrugged.

"Do you have a cigarette?"

"Sure," the driver fished one out, admiring the boy's beautiful profile as he lit the cigarette given him with a match and inhaled deeply. Brian leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes. The driver let his gaze travel down Brian's torso, his crotch, his long, slim legs. He was an incredible looking kid. Something primal moved him. The driver was married and didn't think of himself as bisexual, but sometimes he met a young man so beautiful, he had to react on a physical level. Brian glanced at him.

"What's your problem?"

The man smiled and drove to a parking lot adjacent to a baseball diamond that was not in use that evening, the season past. "You want to make a quick ten bucks?" he asked Brian.

Brian narrowed his eyes. "Doing what?"

"Doing nothing. Just leaning back and letting me suck your dick."

Brian laughed and inhaled again. "You'd give me ten bucks if I let you suck my dick?"

"Yeah, " the man removed the bill from his pocket. Brian could see that the driver was already erect. That fact made him feel strangely powerful.

"What will you make me do?"

"Nothing. I'll jerk off while I suck you. You don't have to do anything but squirt."

Brian frowned. He found the man repellant, and yet...ten bucks was ten bucks and coming was coming. "Money first."

The man gave him the bill, and Brian stuffed it deep in his pocket, then opened the buttons of his fly, slumping lower on the seat. He closed his eyes as the man moved over on the benchseat to reach inside his open fly and take out his dick. The man was already breathing hard, and he groaned when he got a look at how big Brian was, even flaccid. Brian thought of other men, of Patrick Swayze and Paul Newman in that old movie, Hud, and the cute brother in the Brady Bunch, as the man fondled him and then took his stiff cock into his mouth. Whatever else Brian felt, the sensation of tongue and lips on his penis was divine, and he relaxed and let it happen. He could hear the other man masturbating with that telltale snick snick of wet skin being stroked, but he didn't look. He didn't want to know. He concentrated only on his own pleasure, as he came with a rush of adrenaline. Brian raised his hips from the seat to pump a plume of sperm down the man's ready throat.

After he finished, Brian buttoned up, ignoring the man's attempt to do more. He left the car, making sure the money was still in his pocket. He began walking, experiencing battling emotions ranging from feeling pleased with himself and satisfied, to feeling sick and ashamed. "It's just sex," he finally told himself. He could divorce himself emotionally from the act and just enjoy the pleasure for what it was. That was a lesson he would learn well, one that would mark his adult relationships with men.

He caught a passing bus that took him towards downtown, exiting at an historical district on the edge of surburbia and just east of the central business district. Urban pioneers had turned the elegant old brownstones fronting cobblestone streets and cast iron fountains into upscale properties. Brian straightened his clothes as he went up to one of the houses and pressed the button. A brass door knocker gleamed against a high gloss ebony door, but he presumed that was just for effect. He was illuminated by a gas light that flickered gently. He smiled when the door opened and Dee stood there. She grinned at him.

"Are you lost?"

"Can I come in?"

"Of course you can come in! We were just having dessert. Have some with us."

"No, I..." he tried to turn away, but she grabbed his sleeve and pulled him.

"Don't be a dork. Come on, Brian, I've talked about you so much, my parents are dying to meet you."

Soft classical music played in the background as she led him down a foyer with chair rail walls painted white on the bottom with a cherry red silk paper on the top. The hardwood floors gleamed, but their footsteps were softened by an oriental carpet runner. The dining room was lit with an immense crystal chandelier that was reflected in the crystal goblets on the table and the shine of fine china and sterling silver. These walls were similar to the foyer, but the wall paper picked up the cherry red in a chinoiserie print that matched the silk seats of the glossy mahogany chairs that surrounded a long, polished table. Fresh flowers scented the room, exuberantly displayed in a crystal vase.

Brian stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking from her father to her mother. They were an attractive couple, the man tall and fair, the woman voluptuous and dark. Looking at them, Brian could see how their combined genes would produce a beauty like Dee.

Dee introduced him as her friend, Brian Kinney, and they graciously invited him to join them for dessert. Her mother asked if he had already had his dinner and when he said yes, he regretted it. From the delicious smells, he was certain he had missed something good. Dessert was a chocolate souffle, filled with a white chocolate sauce and rimmed with raspberries. While Dee's mother complained it was a little flatter than her usual efforts, Brian thought it was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten. Her father talked soccer with him, putting him at ease, and when Brian offered to assist in clearing the table, he was assured the maid would take care of that.

He had never had a maid present to serve dinner, and he joked with Dee about it as they excused themselves and fled to her room at the top of the stairs. It was a princess's room, pale yellow with rich prints from Provence, and antique furnishings that were understated yet elegant. She even had her own fireplace behind a delicate screen of scrolled iron.

"How rich are you?" he inquired, flopping on her bed and staring up at her. She laughed and flopped beside him, after putting some vintage Eurhythmics on the stereo.

"I'm not rich at all. My daddy's family is rich and my mama's good lookin', as the song says."

He smiled at her, feeling suddenly uneasy to be lying next to her on a bed. "Must be nice."

"Don't be a twat about it," she slammed him with a pillow. He slammed her back and soon they were laughing and beating each other with the myriad of decorative pillows found on her canopied bed. Finally, he stopped her by pinning her beneath him, and she deliberately didn't struggle, staring up into his handsome, flushed face with a defiant smile.

"How come you don't date any of the girls who are so hot for you, Kinney? The boys say it's because you're gay."

"The boys are jealous," he countered, enjoying the feel of her body under his. "I've gone out with some girls."

"Not often, and not more than once," she had heard all the rumors about the gorgeous and elusive Brian Kinney.

"They bore me."

"What doesn't bore you?"

"I hitchhiked tonight with a man who ended up sucking my dick. That wasn't boring."

"Get the fuck out of here!" she teased, and he grinned at her.

"It's true!"

"You let some guy suck your dick?"

"Yeah. And he gave me ten bucks for it."

"Brian, that makes you a hustler!"

He laughed. "So? I didn't go looking for it."

"Was he gross?"

Brian appreciated her calm acceptance and curiosity. "He wasn't hot. But it felt good."

"Did you suck him?"

"No!" He grimaced."I didn't do anything to him."

"Tell me how it felt."

"It felt good. How do you think it would feel?"

"I don't know. I don't have a dick. Was it your first time?"

"Yeah," he lied, conveniently forgetting the coach.

She giggled. "You are so BAD!"

"Listen, don't tell anyone, ok? Not even Mikey."

"Of course not. Will you let go of my hands? You're hurting me a little."

"Sorry," he released her hands, and then looked surprised as she locked them on the back of his neck.

"Are you bisexual, Brian?" she asked curiously. He paused, contemplating that question.

"I don't know. Does it bother you that I did that with a man?"

"It's hot," Dee responded, pulling him down to kiss her firmly on the mouth. He slid his tongue between her lips, noticing how soft her caress was, far more gentle and receptive than the few urgent kisses he had shared with men. He relaxed above her. She was tall, which made it easy to stretch out on her without feeling he was crushing her. As they kissed, he became aroused, instinctively moving his erection against her pubis, masturbating himself with a steady rhythm. Dee freed one leg to prop her foot on his muscular calf, putting the hard cylinder of his flesh in contact with her clitoris. Unknown to Brian, he was exciting her as much as he was exciting himself, merely by moving his hips in a rutting motion that came naturally to all males.

Dee met his movement with a gentle grind of her own pelvis, increasing the intensity for herself. Her skirt rode up, only his jeans and her panties separating them. The heat blistered. Brian slipped a hand under her blouse, squeezing the soft cup of her bra that was filled with her ripe flesh. She sucked eagerly at his tongue as his lunges became more directed and suddenly he stopped. She looked up at him, confused and unsatisfied.

"I'm gonna shoot if we don't stop," he said breathlessly, and Dee smiled.

"Don't you want to?"

"Not in my jeans. I have to go home wearing these jeans and walk past your parents."

She pushed him off of her, lying on his back, his erection tenting his jeans with his urgency. She turned on her side, propped up on one elbow as she began unbuttoning his fly. "I've never touched one, Brian. I've only seen pictures of them. Will you show me how?"

"Are you sure?" he asked hopefully, his heart hammering in anticipation. She nodded, and he took it out, watching her expression for a sign of rejection. Instead, she just smiled and looked up at him.

"Wow. It's big."

"I guess."

"It's pretty, Brian. It looks so...angry."

He smiled and took her hand, resting it against his turgid flesh. His eyes closed in ecstasy as he showed her the motion, and she quickly picked up on what he wanted, stroking him up and down as he pulled up his shirt to bare his belly. She leaned down to kiss him, still watching out of the corner of her eye. She stroked faster, harder, feeling his muscles become like iron beneath her caress, his agitation exciting to her. His dick became wet, the slickness smoothing her pumping motion. The dark flush of the skin she stroked deepened and then he moaned into her mouth as thick shots of fluid tore from his penis to mark his belly in ridges of semen.

She got up and went into the bathroom attached to her bedroom, returning with a towel. She had used it to wipe her hand, and she cleaned up his abdomen, including the stray drops that flecked his nipples and sternum. She stretched out beside him and he kissed her while he rebuttoned his fly. She took his long, delicate fingers and guided them inside the leg of her panties. He looked quizzically at her and she smiled.

"It's only fair. You showed me how to do it, I'll show you."

With that, she demonstrated the intricacies of a woman's body to Brian, showing him how to make it sing the same song he'd just completed.

Brian's mobile phone rang just as he returned to the exterior door of his loft building. He flipped it open and responded, "Yeah?"

"Brian, it's Dee." Hearing her voice after reliving that memory made him feel strange. "My plane just landed. We're pulling up to the gate."

"I can be there in a few minutes, Dee. Why don't you wait for me instead of getting a cab? We can talk. I'll be at the curb outside of luggage. Tall guy, black Jeep."

She laughed. "I think I'll remember. I'll be the tall woman in black slacks."

"I remember too."

"Is Mick alright?"

"He's fine," Brian had diverted to the garage and started the engine of the Jeep as they talked.

"Thank you for taking care of him."

"I'll see you in a few, Dee."

They hung up and Brian phoned his loft to explain to Justin where he was going and why. "Make sure you keep the kid right where he is."

"Why would he leave?" Justin asked. "He has a Coke, snacks, and a television. He couldn't be happier."

"Ok, I'll see you later."

"Brian, are you alright?"

Brian sighed. "I don't know. This is so weird."

"I love you," Justin reminded him, and Brian smiled and nodded, even though Justin could see neither gesture.

"I know, babe. Bear with me on this, ok?"

"You know I will. It's Mikey who's freaking."

Brian knew that Mikey freaking over Dee was standard. He figured that situation could only get worse.

Go to Chapter 5

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