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Chapter 8: Can't Find My Way Home...

Ok, gang, here is the next installment. Provides a glimpse into Brian's backstory. Enjoy! Randall

Dee glanced at Brian's stoic profile in the occasional wash of neon or other ambient light as they drove through the darkness. She could feel his disappointment. The impact of it was palpable, and even now she felt a residual guilt over hurting him.

"Brian, what we shared was very special to me."

"Please don't," he said quietly.

"It was. I've always had fond feelings for you. I treasure what we meant to each other. That relationship had such a sweet innocence attached to it."

He was quiet for a moment, and then said, "How can you be sure?"

"About what?"

"About Aidan being the father of your child?"

"Well, there was no one else, Brian," she said gently.

"There was me. What about that? We did finally do the deed!"

"Of course we did, but it was a month later. I freaked after the Aidan thing and held off going ‘all the way' with you until I started to wonder if I could be pregnant. I was late, and I was never late."

"So you gave in to me with the idea that you could pass the kid off as mine?"

"As I told you, that thought occurred to me. I'm not proud of it. But I was a scared, inexperienced kid. And I loved you. I was comfortable with you. Aidan scared me, he was so much older and more sophisticated. And by the time I thought I could be pregnant, he was gone. He left the farm when it changed hands. No one knew where he was, according to you."

"That's still close in time. Why couldn't he be my kid?"

"Brian, Mick was born almost exactly nine months after I made love with Aidan. He weighed eight pounds. He was a full term baby. I wish I could tell you otherwise, but I know who his father is. I'm sorry."

Brian kept his eyes fixed on the road. Dee watched suburbia fade into highway. "I thought you lived in town?"

"We're not going to my place."


"Did you laugh at me, Dee? That first time we made love. Did you laugh?"

"Of course not, Brian! It was beautiful. I loved you. You were gentle and caring. I treasure that memory."

He frowned. Did he treasure that memory? The loss of his virginity with a woman? That memory was crucial to him. It was his first clear realization that even if he cared about a girl, even if he loved her, and even if his body could perform sexually with her, something was missing. He felt an incompletion, a yearning, a hunger for something more. He remembered that first time with Dee, and as the memory replayed yet again in his head, some of his self-righteous indignation faded.

His thoughts were not centered on that tentative pairing. On being alone with her in her room, playing ancient Pink Floyd cuts on her stereo, stripping by candlelight. They had all the time in the world. Her mother was performing a concert and her father was in the audience. No surprise homecomings would interrupt their pairing. The penetration was not that big a step beyond what they had already done together. He found a woman's body yielding and warm, strangely comforting. He was excited, and he reached orgasm without strain. He felt proud of accomplishing the act, but he also felt something more, some annoying little itch that he couldn't quite scratch. Thinking back to that night, Brian left Dee's bedroom behind and fast forwarded to two hours after the loss of his virginity between her thighs.


Liberty Avenue was known as the "gay" part of town, even to suburban high school boys like Brian. His curiosity had driven him to wander there more than once, usually during the day, obstensibly to haunt the vintage music stores and clothing boutiques that were centered there. But in fact, he liked to be among gay men, noticing how they cruised him, how attractive he felt in their presence, how at home he was among them. In this environment, unlike every other he had known, he was not alone with his feelings towards men. Here existed an entire community who felt exactly the same way. But for all the comfort he took from that commonality, he was also intimidated and unsure. He had never been to Liberty Avenue at night, but he heard the action was wild and went late.

Dressed in jeans and a snug fitting ribbed sweater, he stood under a street lamp on Liberty, smoking, while trying to get his bearings. He watched men walk by, hand in hand. He watched men kiss on the corner. He watched men watch him. Fresh from making love to a woman for the first time, Brian felt an undeniable need to immerse himself in this exclusively male subculture.

"Hi, Sweetie. Lost?"

He looked up at a man who was smiling as he leaned in close to Brian, openly appraising him with his gaze. Brian felt threatened by that appraisal. "No," he responded with false bravado. "What's the best club around here?

The man laughed. "Depends on what you want," he rolled off a series of clubs and the crowd he was likely to find in each. "Or you can just come home with me and shortcut the rest."

Brian looked him over and shook his head, walking away, ignoring the taunt the man threw after him as he left. Something about going home to his mommy. There was a long line to get into a club called The Fly. Brian stood there, becoming nervous when he saw the doorman was carding people for ID's. Brian was tall, so maybe he could pass, but more often than not, he was made as being too young to buy beer or cigarettes or enter certain movies and now this club was a challenge. His face was still a teenager's face, even if his body was sexually mature.

At the door, the worst happened. "Membership card?" The guard asked and Brian winced. He made a show of patting down his pockets.

"Must have left it at home."

"Yeah, right. You have to buy another one at the desk. Got ID?"

"He's with me, Frank," a voice intruded and Brian looked up at the most gorgeous man he had ever seen. He was tall and strongly built with a face like a Greek god and a mane of golden brown hair that was razored with the same precision in which his clothes were tailored. His black leather jacket was glove soft as he pressed close to Brian. His pack of friends laughed at his sudden adoption of the boy.

"Yeah, ok, Mac. Go ahead," the guard said with a smirk.

The man he called Mac gestured for Brian to enter ahead of him, calling for his friends to fuck off as they made chicken clucks to signify Brian's youth. At the front desk, Mac checked his leather coat. Beneath it he wore a black tank top that beautifully displayed his well developed biceps and hard pecs. His dark eyes were like lasers as they zeroed in on Brian's face. "You've never been here before," he said in an almost accusatory tone. Brian smiled.

"No, but I'm here now."

"So you are. Come on, twink. Let's dance."

Mac held his hand as they descended metal stairs onto a dance floor that was a sea of undulating male bodies. Brian had never seen anything like it. Wall to wall men, most of whom were imminently fuckable. They could dance, kiss, flirt, and more, without any fear of drawing the ire of society. Everyone here was gay. Brian had never danced with a man, but Mac made it easy. He was entranced watching Mac move, enjoying the sensuous grind of his hips and the way he used his upper body as a homing device for sexuality. After a couple dances, he took Brian's hand and led him up to the bar, ordering two beers. He handed one to Brian, and they stood on a catwalk overlooking the dancers as they drank.

Mac stood behind him, his chin on Brian's shoulder, watching him watch the action. Brian felt mesmerized by the closeness of this handsome man, lured by the ease in which they were becoming so intimate so quickly. Mac kissed his neck, his jaw, then turned him around and kissed him hard on the mouth. Brian kissed him back, sucking in his tongue and pressing his pelvis to Mac's as his erection began to build.

"I feel like chicken tonight," one of Mac's friends had walked up, taunting them, and Mac glared at him.

"Fuck off, Bill."

"What?" Bill feigned innocence. "What did I say? I suddenly had a hankering for chicken," his stare roamed Brian's lean physique and pretty face.

"Let's get out of here," Mac whispered to Brian. "Too many predators tonight."

They paused to get his jacket, and then left the club. "MAC!" They had been followed into the street by another of his friends. Mac paused, annoyed, and glared at him.

"What is it, Tony?"

"What are you doing? Where are you going? Who's the twink?" Brian felt Tony's hostility and Mac's impatience with him.

"You figure it out. Home. And none of your business."

"But how are we supposed to get home if you take your car?"

"Call a cab. Goodnight, Tony."

"Mac, drop me off. I'm tired anyway."

Mac frowned, but nodded. "It's on the way," he reassured Brian as they got into his car, a Land Rover with dark gray leather interior. Before he cranked the engine, Mac leaned over to kiss Brian firmly on the lips. Brian responded, ignoring the fact that they had a passenger. As Mac pulled back and started the car, Brian heard Tony sigh audibly from the backseat.

"Can't you wait until you get him home?" Tony demanded.

"No, Tony, I can't. Did you get a look at him?"

"Little on the skinny side, Mac."

"I am not," Brian defended, glancing over his shoulder at the little man in the back. He was not unattractive, but he was also not Brian's type. Something about him reminded Brian of Mikey.

"I'm talking to Mac, not to you, twink," Tony said curtly.

"My name's Brian, not twink."

"Nobody cares what your name is. Your name is ‘tonight's trick'. By tomorrow, it will be forgotten along with the rest of you," Tony shot at him.

"Fuck you, Tony!" Mac insisted. "Just shut up."

"Why? You know I'm right. Don't get stars in your eyes, twink. Mac is the biggest stud in Pittsburgh. He doesn't do boyfriends."

"What do you know about it?" Mac insisted and Tony laughed.

"I've been your best friend since junior high. I know everything about you, homey."

"I don't want a boyfriend," Brian said boldly. Tony smirked at him.

"No, you're more into the aimless nights of hot one off sexual encounters, right?"

"Right," Brian answered definitively, not missing the look and the laugh that passed between Tony and Mac. Mac finally pulled up to a house in a working class neighborhood of row houses and apartments.

"Out," he said to Tony, who left the car, then leaned in Mac's open window.

"Be careful tonight," he warned his friend.

"I'm always careful. Nighty-night, Tony." They kissed on the lips and Tony climbed the steps to the house as Mac drove away.

"He's in love with you," Brian observed, and Mac winced.

"Sometimes he thinks he is. Tony has a way of mixing feelings up in his head. He's my best friend, that's all," he reached over and spread his hand on Brian's thigh. "Forget him, we have better things ahead of us."

Mac had a high rise apartment at a great address in mid-town, the furnishings sleek and modern, the glass walls offering a panoramic view of the skyline.

"Wow. Nice place. It must cost a bundle. What do you do?" Brian asked nervously as Mac started some music and threw off his jacket. He went into the open kitchen and retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

"I'm a stockbroker, if it matters," he slugged down most of the contents of the bottle, then pulled off his shirt, revealing his torso as he poured the remainder down his chest and instructed Brian to lick it off his skin. Brian hesitated, then walked over to him, licking the cool water off his warm, smooth flesh with careful strokes of his tongue. "You done this before, kid?"

"Sure, lots of times," Brian lied. Two, including the guy in the car who gave him a blow job and his coach. That was it. But he was volunteering nothing.

"Lots of times?" Mac repeated, unfastening his belt and opening his fly. Brian watched, mesmerized. Mac let his pants fall, wearing nothing underneath. He was well hung, and Brian felt his own body respond forcefully to the sight of this handsome man in the buff.

"How old are you?" Mac asked.


Mac raised a brow, his handsome face skeptical.

"Seventeen," Brian said. Mac still stared at him. "Sixteen, but I'll be seventeen soon."

"You're a big boy for sixteen."

"I guess."

"Want a hit of something?"

"Better not, already took too much tonight," Brian didn't want to dull his reflexes with drugs. He was nervous, scared, he needed his wits to be at full throttle. Mac smiled wryly.

"You want to escape? I'll call a cab for you. Last chance."

"Uh, no, I want to stay, I..." Mac walked over and wrapped a hand around the back of Brian's neck and pressed his mouth to his. Brian relented, separating his lips to admit his tongue, trembling as he felt the man's muscular naked body press against his own.

There was a fireplace in the bedroom, and it threw them into a golden light, while the city outside the glass floor- to- ceiling windows in sparkling relief. Mac helped Brian undress, and admired his slim physique with his hands and his lips. "You a top or a bottom?" he asked, and Brian hesitated. Mac laughed. "Doesn't matter. I'm a top. That makes you a bottom."

Brian stretched out on the bed, noticing the sheets were black, a nubby silk fabric, rather than the sleazy cold satin so often used provocatively in porno. When he fell back on the downy pillows, he felt beautiful to be cradled in this luxury and to be the object of this incredible man's lust. "Do you want me to get you off first?" Mac asked, sitting up beside Brian's supine body and stroking his torso with his palm. "You look more than ready to pop. At your age, getting up again is no big deal."

"I...yeah. Sure." Brian thought Mac would jerk him off, and that was good enough, but instead he stretched out across the mattress, facing Brian's hip, and used one hand to steady Brian's erection, the other to support his weight as he lowered his face on Brian's penis, his tongue stroking the length of it as he went down. Brian gasped and lifted his hips off the bed, the reaction he had to that touch torching his nervous system. He moaned and bunched the sheet in his fists, willing his body not to let go. But within seconds, it was too much and he shot his load into Mac's throat with a guttural cry of release.

Mac swallowed and smiled down at him. "You taste like a salty margarita."


"No, that's GOOD. Come here, kid. Touch me."

They kissed while Brian played with Mac's erect penis, and the heat flared in him as if he hadn't been pleasured in months. Before he was really certain what was happening, Mac rolled him up on the bed, slinging Brian's long legs over his shoulders. He squeezed lube onto his forefinger and inserted it in Brian's tightly puckered sphincter, moving it around to loosen and lubricate him.

He put on a condom, and moved into position. "Don't hurt me," Brian whispered, and Mac smiled.

"Pretty boy, it always hurts a little bit at first. But remember this feeling. It will never be like this again. And no other man will ever be the first. Every man who follows me, at some point in the fucking, you'll think of Mac. I was your first. You'll forget others, but you'll never forget me."

Brian knew that was true before Mac even began to penetrate him. He thought of Dee, earlier that night, when he was the one taking the duty of penetration. It didn't seem to hurt her as much as it hurt him now, even though he was easily as big as Mac. Women's bodies were more accommodating to the act, but it couldn't have been as thrilling as it was to become one with this man. Nothing could be this thrilling. The pain was worth the bliss that followed, and when he fell asleep in Mac's arms afterwards, the memory of what he had done with Dee was just a sweet shadow of this event.

Dee looked at the cross rails of the white fence they were passing and then at Brian's profile. "Where the hell are we?"

"Don't worry, Dee," he said, forcing aside his memories of Mac. He was always depressed when he thought of Mac, and more depressed after he let those memories intrude. "I haven't turned into a psycho killer over the years."

"That wasn't my concern, Brian. Where are we?"

"You don't recognize anything?"

"Should I?"


"Why? It's dark. I can hardly make out a landmark."

"Because this is sacred ground to you, Dee," he said with more bitterness than he intended. "This is where you lost your cherry. This is where your son was conceived."

She stared at him in wonder as it finally became clear to her. They were going to the farm.


Go to Chapter 9

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