This is Chapter 19 of the "Queer Realities" series.
Go back to "Queer Theories" for the very beginning of this saga.
The narrator is Justin Taylor, and features Brian Kinney, Dr. Julius Gorowitz, Sylvia Schacter.
Rated R and contains no warnings or spoilers.
Summary: Justin visits Brian for the weekend. Springhurst, McKinley, NY. February 2003.
Disclaimer: This is for fun, not profit. Watch Queer As Folk on Showtime, buy the DVDs, videos, and CDs. Read the stories and enjoy.
"No matter what you are
I will always be with you,
Doesn't matter what you do,
Oo-oo, with you.
No matter what you do,
I will always be around,
Won't you tell me what you've found?
Oh, won't you?"
As I'm getting ready to leave for my Friday morning life studio, the loft phone rings.
The machine picks up and I hear a voice leaving a message. "Mr. Taylor, this is Dr. Gorowitz at Springhurst."
I grab the receiver. "I'm here! I'm just on my way to class."
"I won't keep you, Mr. Taylor, but I wanted to know if you were still planning to come up here this weekend to see Brian?"
"Of course!" I tell him. "I'm going to leave right after my class. I'm packed and ready to go."
"Good," Dr. Gorowitz says. "If you talk with your partner before you leave, do you mind if I ask you not to be too specific about when you are arriving today? I'd like you to come and speak with me first."
"Is everything okay, Dr. Gorowitz? You can tell me if there's a problem." Now I'm worried. Now I want to skip class and drive directly up to Springhurst.
"No, Mr. Taylor, there's no problem. I'd like to discuss a few things with you, that's all. Please come directly to my office when you get here, if you will." Then the doctor laughs. "Besides, I don't want you calling Brian every five minutes while you are onthe road coming up here. He will spend the entire day standing by the front window, pretending that he is NOT waiting to see your vehicle pull into the drive. I'd rather that he focus his attention on Group and other things until you actually get here. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I think I do. Thanks, Dr. Gorowitz. I'll see you this afternoon."
I put the receiver down and immediately call Brian's cell. It's turned off, but they like the patients to turn off their phones when they are in Group or at lectures or whatever activities they are doing so it doesn't disrupt things. It's pretty early in the day, so Brian might also just be in the shower or at breakfast or something like that. So I leave a message that I'll be coming later in the day, but I'm not too specific about the time. Then I head out to class. But my mind is somewhere in New York State.
"Thanks for coming here first, Mr. Taylor," says Dr. Gorowitz, inviting me to have a seat. "I wanted to speak to you before you saw your partner."
"That's what you said on the phone," I reply uneasily. "Speak about what?"
The doctor takes a deep breath. "About your commitment to this treatment program. And about you coming here as Brian's partner. Because when I first met you when you brought Brian here last week I admit that I had some reservations about whether to allow you to visit Brian so soon after his admittance, Mr. Taylor."
My heart falls when I hear this. "Reservations? About what?"
"Your age, mainly," he answers candidly. "You are very young to be in a committed relationship with a man in his 30's who, admittedly, has multiple addictions and many, many emotional and psychological problems. Not to mention the fact that he is a celebrity and likely to be constantly in the public eye even while he is struggling with his problems. That is a great burden for a teenager to shoulder, Mr. Taylor."
I feel my face getting red, so I take a deep breath to control my voice. "I'm not a teenager, Dr. Gorowitz. I turned 20 in December." The doctor watches me, his face unchanging. "I've been with Brian for over two years. That's longer by far than any relationship he's ever had, other than his best friend, Michael, who he's known since they were in junior high. I'm well aware of his addictions and his issues with his family and all that other shit. I know things about Brian's past and about...." But then I hesitate. If I tell the doctor about the Alternate Streams he'll definitely think I'm nuts. So I better skip that part. "I know things about Brian that he's never shared with anyone else, not even with Michael. I'm also used to people discounting me and underestimating me because of my age. Even my own parents do it. Even Brian did it -- at first."
The doctor has one of those poker faces that don't let you know what the person is thinking. I know that I have one of those faces that's just the opposite. Everything I'm thinking and feeling is right there, out in the open. I'd make a rotten psychiatrist, that's for certain.
"You don't think that your extreme youth is a factor here, Mr. Taylor?" the doctor presses. "That perhaps you are NOT mature enough or don't have enough life experience to handle some of the extremely difficult issues that are bound to come up in Brian's treatment?"
I swallow. My throat is suddenly very, very dry. "Since I started seeing Brian in September of 2000, people have always assumed that they knew who I was and what I wanted. That I was some 'stalker' or insignificant twink who was only looking for a hot time. I admit that when I first met Brian I was NOT looking for a relationship. I was 17 years old and I wanted to get laid more than anything else. But... but something happened to me that night. And I think it happened to Brian, too. In fact, I know it happened to him, because he's even admitted it to me since then. What happened between us wasn't just a... a fuck. It was the beginning of a relationship. The fact that I'm still here, that I'm sitting in this office, talking to you about Brian and his problems and his treatment, proves that it IS a relationship. I don't have any doubt about that and I don't think Brian has any doubt about it, even if it's hard for him to articulate that fact. It's always other people who have the doubts. Other people who assume that because of my age I can't really know what I'm doing. Or that I can't deal with Brian's problems because I'm some vacuous and immature kid. Nothing could be further from the truth, Dr. Gorowitz. So you better get used to seeing me. Because I'm going to be here every moment I can! I made a commitment to help Brian and stick by Brian -- and I'm going to do it! And anyone who doesn't like it can kiss my ass -- excuse the expression, doctor!"
After this impassioned speech I feel like I want to march into the other building, grab Brian, and take him home -- because I won't leave him at another hell hole like Haven of Hope. I won't leave him at some place where they only want Brian to forget that he ever knew me.
But to my surprise, Dr. Gorowitz nods. "I agree, Mr. Taylor. After speaking with you, and after talking to Brian quite a bit during the past week, I'm convinced that you are a key element to his ability to help himself. Yes, he wants to do it for himself -- and that's very important -- but he also wants to do it for you, Mr. Taylor."
I stare at the doctor. "Did Brian actually say that? About me? To YOU?"
"Yes, he did," says Dr. Gorowitz. "And for Brian, a man who has very much lived only for himself and seems even to have prided himself on not caring what other people think, that's a very serious admission. It's also a strong motivating factor. It's a goal that he has obviously set for himself -- to make himself worthy of having a relationship with you."
"Jesus," I say. "That's something I never thought Brian would admit to another person, especially not to a fucking shrink!"
Now Dr. Gorowitz grins at me. "We shall see what he is able to admit before he's finished, Mr. Taylor. And I can see that you are prepared to take any action needed to help your partner. That's greatly in your favor. It tells me that you have determination. It also tells me that you are willing to fight for your relationship and fight for the benefit of your partner. And, frankly, Brian needs someone to fight for him, because he's often not willing -- or able -- to fight for himself at this point in his life."
"I can do it, Dr. Gorowitz," I declare. "I'm not afraid to fight."
"I can see that, Justin," he replies. I notice that he calls me by my first name. I'm not sure why, but it makes me grin back at him. "Also, the fact that you wanted to return immediately, even though Brian has been in Springhurst only for a short while, tells me something about your commitment to him. Many spouses and family members are so relieved to be rid of their exhausting and troubled loved ones that we rarely see them until the patient is almost ready to return home -- and by then it's often too late for the patient and his relatives to remake their relationship. Or for the patient to return to an atmosphere in which he can succeed."
I sit up straighter in the chair. "I didn't want Brian to come to Springhurst to get rid of him, Doctor Gorowitz. I brought him here to get help. And I want to do everything I can to help him do it. Ben Bruckner told me that you encourage partners to be involved. You also said when we brought Brian here that I was welcome to visit as many weekends as I wanted. It's the weekend. So here I am. I'd be here 24/7 if you let me -- and if I didn't have classes. But I would drop out of school tomorrow if you thought that I should be here around the clock, and I mean it. But I WILL be here every weekend. I guarantee you. I promised myself -- and Brian."
Dr. Gorowitz raises his eyebrows. "And how will this impact your school work, Justin?"
"It won't," I tell him. "Because I won't let it. I worked all last year and went to school. I'll budget my time, like I did then, and get done the work that I need to do so that my weekends are free. That way I can be here, where I'm needed, when I'm needed. Because I want to be here, Dr. Gorowitz. And that's the honest truth."
The doctor gazes at me, his hands folded on the desk in front of him. This guy means business. "How far along are you in your course of study, Mr. Taylor?"
I look him straight in the eye. I can't seem like I'm uncertain about this or he won't take me seriously. "I'm in the second semester of my sophomore year at the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Art. I'm an Honor Student and I've also had my work accepted in a number of exhibits. I got through my freshman year at the Institute with Honors, too, even though I was working AND still recovering from... from being injured in a hate crime. So I don't see this as that big a problem." I have to say that firmly, so he'll believe me. Because I CAN do it all. I know I can. Piece of cake!
Dr. Gorowitz glances down at a thick folder on his desk. I'm used to that -- the doctor checking out your records, looking over your charts. "Yes, I know about what happened to you, Justin. It was one of the first things that Brian spoke to me about, although I already knew about it from the public record. I always do as much research as possible on our patients and Brian's information is quite extensive. That's not unusual with a celebrity. But I'm sure you already know all about the advantages and disadvantages of celebrity, isn't that correct?"
I shake my head. "You might say that, Dr. Gorowitz." I think about the pictures of my ass plastered all over the tabloids on every newsstand. "I know all too well."
Dr. Gorowitz stands up and reaches for my hand. "Welcome to Springhurst, Justin. Go to the main desk for your visitor's pass and the number of Brian's room. Brian shouldn't be that hard to find. He's either already in his room at this time of the afternoon, or else in the gym, or the computer room. Ask anyone for directions."
"Thanks, doctor." I shake his hand firmly. "Thanks for everything."
I had parked the Jeep around the back of the house and near the entrance to the more modern complex, but I don't want to get my suitcase and the other stuff I've brought until I know where I'm taking it. I have Brian's I-Book, a portable CD player/radio and some of his favorite CD's, his shampoo, conditioner, French anti-ageing cream, and other products that he can't live without. Except he CAN live without them. He doesn't really need any of this stuff. And neither do I. It's just stuff, after all. Possessions. Crap. It's nice to have, but if I'd come up here without it I don't think that would have mattered. Because it's the two of US that really matter. I know it and Brian knows it. But having a few CD's to play does make life a little nicer. Okay, a lot nicer.
I'm in such a fucking good mood that I'm smiling as I wander around the halls, trying to find Brian's room. This is not a bad-looking place and everyone I see smiles back at me. They don't look like psychos or drug addicts or losers. In fact, I really can't tell who are the patients and who are the doctors or the nurses or the counselors. Maybe there is no difference here. That's why it sure doesn't feel like a hospital. No, it feels more like a really nice college dorm, except with much older students. I pass a recreation room with a pool table and a television set in the corner. And I pass the dining room. I check my watch. A little over 2 hours until dinner and I'm already starving. I had a sandwich in the Jeep right after I left Pittsburgh, but I knew that wouldn't hold me long. I have to remember to show the woman at the cafeteria my visitor's pass when I get my food.
And then I see Brian. Coming out of one of the rooms off the offices.
I stop dead in my tracks. Brian looks so fucking amazing! He's wearing a pair of black 501's and a dark green long-sleeved button-down shirt and a pair of Gucci loafers without any socks. I'm always ragging him about those loafers but they look great today! And his hair is all soft and combed and he looks clean and sober and... I don't know. No, I DO know. He looks like the old Brian!
I stand there, waiting, in the middle of the corridor.
It's like Brian feels me before he even sees me. He stops and blinks, his mouth open. "What the fuck?" he says.
And I run into his arms. I know it's fucking schmoopie, but I can't help it.
"I thought you were going to call me while you were on the road?" Brian says, wrapping his long arms around me and bending down to kiss me hard on the mouth. "I wasn't even sure if you'd left Pittsburgh yet, you little shit! "
"I finished my studio class and hit the road. I was all packed and ready to go!" I close my eyes and savor the moment because holding on to Brian feels so fucking good! "I brought all your stuff. Your laptop and CD player and everything. You want to go and help me carry it in from the Jeep?"
"Fuck that!" says Brian. "We'll get it later!"
"Brian! What are you doing?" I cry. Because he picks me up, tosses me over his shoulder, and fucking carries me down the corridor! I can't help but remember our exit from the Austin Gallery show. And also what happened once we got back to the loft. "Brian! You better put me down!"
"Shut up!" he tells me.
We pass a couple of people in the corridor, including a dark-haired woman holding a clipboard. "Brian," she asks. "Where are you going?"
"I'm giving my partner a tour of the facilities, Sylvia," he says without slowing down. "I'll see you again in a couple of days. Bye-bye!"
"Brian!" she calls after us. "I expect to see both of you at dinner tonight! Do you hear me? Brian?"
But he keeps going until he pushes open the door of one of the rooms and then kicks it shut.
"Who was that woman?" I ask as Brian dumps me on the bed. It's a double bed. And the room isn't that bad. There's a large window that overlooks Lake Chautauqua.
Brian bolts the door and pulls the curtains shut. "That was my counselor, Sylvia. Maybe you'll meet her someday. Assuming we leave this room alive."
I start to laugh. "Are you planning that we are going to fuck until we die, Brian?"
"At least until we pass out," he replies.
I've seen Brian get undressed in record time. He can undress quickly and efficiently in any space and any situation. But he's definitely in a real hurry this time. I simply lay back against the pillows and watch him. It's very entertaining.
"Don't lose any buttons off your shirt, Brian," I warn him. But the shirt is already off and tossed across the room. Then the 501's. Of course, he's not wearing any underwear, so that's pretty much that.
"Brian, I thought I was coming this weekend to help you with your therapy?" I say in amusement.
"At THIS type of therapy you're already like Sigmund fucking Freud! So what the hell are you waiting for? Get your clothes off!"
I yawn. "I'm tired from driving all the way from Pittsburgh. So I think I'll take a nap before dinner." I roll over on my side. "Wake me up in time for the food."
"You little twat!" Brian exclaims. And he begins wrestling my pants off.
"Careful with that zipper!" I yowl as he struggles at my crotch. "My dick is inside there!"
"Exactly! That's what I was going for. So get your pants off or I'm going to rip them off!" Brian roars.
"All right! Okay! I'll do it!" I laugh. I pull off my pants and then my sweater and by then Brian already has my briefs down around my ankles. "Are you really THAT horny, Brian?"
He pauses for one second and glares at me. "What the fuck do you think? You think this place is like the backroom at Babylon where I can get my dick sucked any time of the day or night? Does this look like a resort hotel in P-Town? Or South Beach? Or fucking Ibiza?"
"Not really," I admit. Poor Brian! He really does look stricken. Not to mention horny!
"There's only so much satisfaction I can get with one hand on my dick and the other holding my cellphone while you prattle away at the other end!" he huffs in frustration.
"What about me?" I offer. "Don't you think that I'm in the same boat? I'm just as horny as you are!"
The steam is blowing out of Brian's ears as the pressure builds. "NO ONE is as horny as I am! Jesus fucking Christ!"
And with that Brian grabs my legs, pulls them apart, and dives at my cock like he's never going to see another one for as long as he lives. He sucks me so far into his throat that I think he's going to swallow me whole. Then he attacks my ass. Licking. Biting. Licking me again. And then again like he's starving. And he is starving -- for me! Then he alternates between the two, my dick and my ass, until my head feels like it's going to burst.
"Oh my God!" I moan. Because I can't say much more. It's hard to carry on a conversation when a true expert has his tongue up your ass. And Brian is a true expert. Yes, he's a great actor. And he's a great advertising man. A great dresser. But the one thing that would truly get him into the Hall of Fame is his ability to fuck, with a noted specialty in rimming. No doubt about it. He's excellent at sucking cock, yes, but it's the rimming that takes first prize. I mean, I do my best when I get the opportunity and Brian's never had a complaint when I eat his ass, but I'm an amateur compared to Brian. Of course, he's had a lot more practice over the years, but even practice is no substitute for a real vocation. He ought to make a 'How To' DVD on the subject. I bet it would make a pile of money for the burgeoning gay market!
"Brian," I gasp. "Hold on a second and let me catch my breath!"
He looks up. His smile is fiendish. "No fucking way! I'm going to rim you and suck you and rim you and suck you and then do it again -- until you come so hard your baby blue eyes bug out of your head!"
"But... Brian! Let's take it a little slower, okay?" I say, grabbing at his head. "It's too fucking intense!"
"Nope. And if you don't take your paws off my head," he warns. "I'll tie them to the headboard." He points to two large knobs that decorate the top of the wooden bedstead. "Maybe I'll do that anyway!"
"No! I'm fine!" I don't really want to be tied up. At least -- not yet. Maybe later. "I just needed to catch my breath!"
Brian laughs and then goes back to making a meal out of my ass. But now he takes things a little slower. He knows I'm not going anywhere. We have all the time in the world. We have the whole fucking weekend! Of course, it would be nice to see something other than this room, but if I didn't I know I wouldn't mind all that much.
Because Brian isn't merely horny, he's also sober. Completely sober. I've been fucked by Brian when he was drunk on beer, Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, champagne, and Absolute, to name only a few. I've been fucked by Brian when he was high on E, weed, GHB, coke, and Special K. And I've been fucked by Brian when he was wasted on Xanax, downers, and heroin. But there's nothing like being fucked by Brian when he's not on anything. When he's clear and focused and knows exactly what he's doing. Knows who he is. Knows who I am. And cares that he knows. Yes, he can fuck better unconscious than anyone else can on the best day of his life, even if the guy was pumped full of Viagra and had just won the Lottery. But clear-eyed and utterly conscious -- that's the best. The very, very best.
I'm about to come so I grab my cock and start pulling it with my right hand.
"Yes," Brian purrs. "That's it! Come on, Justin! Do it now."
And while I'm jerking myself, I see Brian reaching over for the condom and lube. He always has it ready to go when the moment arrives. And the moment is here.
"Careful!" I pant. "I'm... I'm tight."
"Not for long," he says, filling my already well-oiled hole with Elbow Grease. That's the heavy duty lube Brian uses when he really means business!
And then he waits. Waits for me to come. Waits for my cock to unload all over myself. But he doesn't wait another second before he's inside me. Just the tip at first as I'm still twitching. Then another inch. And then he pulls out slightly. Then another inch in. And then he pulls almost all the way out again. And that's the way it's going to be. One inch in and then back. Another inch in and back again. It's fucking torture! And fucking amazing!
It takes a long time for Brian to work his entire 9 inches into me this way. ALL the way into me. But by the time he does it and really begins pumping hard, I'm ready for it. I'm pumping back with my ass. Clenching myself around his cock. Pushing while he's thrusting. I have my legs wrapped around Brian's back and I'm giving back to him as good as Brian is giving it to me.
Brian leans down and puts his face against mine. "Someone shoot me now, because it isn't going to get any better than this."
"Yes it will, Brian," I sigh. "Every time. If you let it be like this. Every single fucking time!"
And then he laughs. "I can't hold it any longer!" he breathes. And I feel him give a few more thrusts as he comes as far up my ass as he can get. I feel like his cock is practically all the way up to my heart.
"Fuck!" he says, going limp on top of me. "Just... fuck!"
"Ditto," I say. "Just... ditto!"
"If I wasn't stuck in this fucking rehab place I'd smoke a cigarette right now," Brian sighs. "So I guess I'll just have to suck on your face."
"I'm much better than a cigarette, Brian," I tell him. "You won't run out of me. And I don't cost anything!"
"You?" he explodes in laughter. "Don't cost anything? No, not much. Only everything I've got!"
"I'm worth it," I say, smiling.
"Yeah," says Brian as he travels all over my face with his lips. "I know."
"Knock down the old gray wall,
Be a part of it all,
Nothing to say,
Nothing to see,
Nothing to do.
If you would give me all,
As I would give it to you,
Nothing would be,
nothing would be,
Nothing would be.
No matter where you go,
There will always be a place,
Can't you see it in my face,
Oo-oo, won't you?"
"No Matter What" by Pete Ham/Badfinger.
Continue on to "Bingo".
©Gaedhal, June 2004.
Posted June 26, 2004.