THE ANGEL

"A Queer As Folk USA Alternate Stream FanFic"

by Gaedhal

This is Part 1

The other sections in "The Angel Stream".

Pittsburgh, Christmas Day 2004

"What's that sound?" groaned Justin.

At first Justin thought it was his heart pounding, but the noise was too loud and too metallic.

"Christ!" breathed Brian, lifting his head. "It's someone at the fucking door. Ignore it and they'll go away."

Justin clutched one of Brian's big pillows with both hands. "I don't care what it is! Only don't stop! Please!"

Brian grinned. "I wasn't planning to."

And he plunged his tongue back into Justin's ample ass with satisfied glee.

***

Michael had been worried before, but now he was alarmed.

He had been trying to get Brian on the phone all morning, trying both his cell and the loft phone. And now Brian wasn't coming to the door.

Brian was definitely home. Michael had checked to make certain that the Corvette was parked in its space in the garage. After he couldn't get through to Brian, Michael had called Emmett, who told him that Brian left Babylon early, alone, and in a hurry after a confrontation with some asshole on the dance floor.

Michael knocked harder and more frantically on the metal door.

It had only been a few years before that Michael had barged into the loft and found Brian dangling from one of the rafters, his hand on his hard dick. Michael had been terrified. What if he had arrived 10 minutes later? Brian might well have been stone dead by then! Scarfing wasn't exactly safe sex!

Brian had passed it off, claiming that a try at scarfing was his thirtieth birthday present to himself, but Michael didn't believe that for a moment. He knew that Brian had been depressed for a long time. His father's death from cancer, being turned down for a job at a prestigious advertising firm in New York, and leaving his twenties behind all came one right after the other, like triple knockout punches to Brian's fragile ego.

After that, Brian seemed to snap out of his gloom for a long time, but Michael still worried that despair was always lurking underneath Brian's smooth and icy surface. Then Brian was diagnosed with cancer and Michael knew that Brian was only hanging on by the skin of his teeth. Brian had almost gone over that edge on his last birthday -- his 33rd -- but that crisis had passed.

Now Brian was cancer-free and seemed to have recovered from the side-effects of radiation, but he wasn't the same old Brian. More and more, he had been avoiding his friends. Many nights when he ordinarily would have been at Woody's or Babylon looking for his next trick, Brian was drinking alone in his loft. Drinking and brooding over some dark thought or notion. Michael fretted about what Brian was brooding over. And what he might be thinking of doing.

Michael stopped banging on the door and listened. He didn't hear anything.

It was well after noon and Michael's mother, Debbie, was having her annual Christmas Day dinner for all of her 'Lost Boys,' as Michael's stepfather, Carl, called the motley collection of gay men his wife had virtually adopted. Brian was expected to be there -- no excuses.

Michael took out his cell and called Brian's number one more time. It went to voicemail. That's when Michael took out his key to the loft and unlocked the door.

Brian had taken Michael's key away a number of times before because he was sick of Michael snooping and butting into his life. The last time had been during Brian's radiation treatments when he had been so ill that he could barely stand. Brian didn't want anyone, not even his oldest friend, to see him so debilitated. But Brian had to give the key back to Michael a few days later because he could no longer cope with his illness alone. That had been a devastating admission for Brian to make, but it had been a necessary one.

Michael had promised Brian that he would only use the key for extreme emergencies -- and not for anything else.

And this was an emergency. Michael was certain of it.

He slid open the heavy loft door and walked inside.

***

"Don't come yet," Brian ordered. "Don't come until I put my dick inside you."

"I'll try," Justin gasped, attempting to hold back.

Justin's head was spinning with sensation. He and Brian had fucked for most of the night until they both fell into an exhausted sleep. Then Justin had been awakened around noon by a mouth on his cock. It was an unbelievable feeling! Brian seemed to have an insatiable desire to possess every inch of Justin's untouched body. And that was exactly what Justin wanted.

Rimming. Justin had never heard the term before. But he knew what it was now! Knew it and couldn't get enough of it.

Brian eased first one finger and then two into Justin's sensitive hole. The stubble from Brian's growing beard, like fine sandpaper, had rubbed Justin's skin raw. But Justin didn't complain. It was pleasure and pain mixed together. And he didn't want Brian to stop! He didn't want him ever to stop.

Justin heard Brian rip open the foil on another condom. They must have gone through a half-dozen since Brian guided Justin into the loft and immediately stripped off his clothes and began the marvelous process of relieving Justin of his virginity.

They had started making out on the sofa, then quickly moved to the bedroom, with the huge platform bed that seemed as big as a boat. That's where Justin learned what rimming was. And he learned more. A lot more.

Brian eased himself inside Justin slowly. Shit! He was tight. And sweet. Brian couldn't seem to stop fucking this kid. No, not 'this kid.' Justin. That was his name. And Brian kept saying it over and over as he thrust his yearning cock into him.

"Justin, Justin, Justin!"

"Oh, Brian!" Justin squealed. "Oh, fuck!"

Justin opened his eyes and saw....

A man standing there, staring at them. A short, black-haired man with dark eyes. He was frowning. No, he was scowling at Justin. He was watching them. Watching Brian fucking him!

"Brian!" said Justin, turning his head.

"Don't come yet!" Brian insisted. "I want us to come together this time."

Brian thrust forward deeply and reached his hand around, jerking Justin's dick until they both shot -- Justin all over Brian's dark blue percale sheets and Brian deep inside Justin.

"Oh, my God!" Justin panted as Brian fell on top of him.

"That was the best one yet," Brian sighed. And then he kissed Justin. And kept kissing him. Brian planned to kiss him until they both were hard again.

"Brian," said Justin, hating to interrupt the moment. "There's someone here."

Brian paused. "What the fuck?"

Justin looked over at the doorway of the bedroom. "There's a guy watching us."

Brian whipped his head around.

"Jesus, Michael!" he said. "Why don't you bring a camera next time? Then you can post the pictures on the internet along with your fucking comic books!"

To Justin's amazement, Brian didn't seem angry, only annoyed. But the short man -- Michael -- was furious.

"Fuck you, Brian!" Michael spat. "I was worried about you! I've been calling all morning and you didn't answer, so I came over here to make sure you were all right. And I walk in and find you ramming some underage trick! On Christmas Day! That's real classy, Kinney!"

"Who I fuck and what I do on Christmas Day is my own fucking business, Mikey," said Brian, reaching for a joint that he had rolled the night before. He lit it calmly and then offered it to Justin. Justin nodded and Brian slipped it between Justin's plush lips.

"Emmett said that you left Babylon last night by yourself," said Michael. "So where did you pick up the little trick? At the baths? Or at the Mall, waiting in line to see Santa Claus?"

Justin pulled the blue sheet up to his neck. The angry man had already seen him naked, but Justin wanted to shield himself anyway. Something about the way this Michael looked at him and Brian made Justin feel exposed and vulnerable.

"A trick?" Justin asked, handing the joint back to Brian after he'd taken a strong toke. "What's that? A pick-up?"

"It's what you are," Michael replied. "A one-time fuck. So if you'd get out of here and let Brian get dressed, he can come with me to Ma's house for Christmas dinner!"

Justin snuggled closer to Brian. He wasn't ready to leave -- not yet! He couldn't leave! Justin wanted to get up and make breakfast for his lover. Pancakes. Or a Spanish omelet. Justin was a pretty decent cook. Breakfast was easy. Justin wondered Brian had any Grand Marnier to make a sauce for waffles. That was really good!

"Is this your brother, Brian?" Justin asked. "Are you supposed to be at your mother's house?"

Brian played the joint around in his mouth, thinking. "Michael isn't my brother, but he thinks he's my keeper. That's why he's over here. To make sure I'm a good boy. Well, I've been good. Very, very good. Ask Justin how good I've been," Brian laughed. And Justin laughed, too. Maybe it was the dope they were smoking, but the whole thing seemed so crazy!

"Since when do you know a trick's name, Brian?" Michael asked, narrowing his eyes at the kid suspiciously. "Who is this guy? Where did he come from?"

"His name is Justin." Brian blew out a puff of the sweet-smelling smoke. "And Justin isn't a trick, Michael."

Brian had his arm around Justin's shoulder as they reclined on the pillows. Usually he was in such a fucking hurry to get the trick out of his bed and out of his loft that there was no time to lie there and enjoy the feeling. What the fuck did they call it? The afterglow. That's what it felt like. Like he was glowing. And Justin was definitely glowing, like he was lit up from inside. Brian felt himself getting hard again. Wanting Justin again. It was ridiculous! But it was true.

Justin leaned his head on Brian's shoulder and closed his eyes. His mother was probably wondering where he was, if she hadn't already called the police. So what? He was 22 years old! He was a man! Really a man now. There was no doubt about that. A man in bed with his lover.

Michael stared at Brian and the kid in dismay. What the hell was going on? This wasn't like Brian at all! What had this kid done to Brian? What drugs had he given Brian to put him in this mood? Maybe some new kind of 'E' -- or even something stronger. Something dangerous.

"If he's not a trick, then what the fuck is he, Brian?" Michael was almost shouting in frustration.

"I don't know what to call him, Michael," Brian answered. "But he's mine. That's all I know right now. And all I need to know."

***

"No, Mom," said Justin, rubbing his aching head. "I'm telling you for the last time -- I'm not going to be home for dinner! No, I'm NOT at Daphne's. I have friends other than Daphne, you know!"

Brian shook his head as he listened to Justin's end of the conversation. Mothers! Jesus Christ! At least he wasn't expected to call his. He'd had flowers sent over to her house yesterday. Some tasteful arrangement that she undoubtedly wouldn't appreciate. That was his way of fulfilling his holiday obligation to the Kinney family.

Fulfilling his obligation to his adopted family would be much harder.

"Listen, Mom, I'll call you tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow!" Justin pulled the phone away from his ear while his mother yelled. "I'm staying at my friend's place again tonight. No, I don't give a shit about opening my presents! Can we talk about this another time? I'm hanging up now, Mom. Yes, NOW!" And Justin hung up.

Brian burst into laughter. "That was easy."

"Fuck! I can't believe my mother!" said Justin. "You would think that I'd called her from jail or something."

"She probably would have preferred that," said Brian, sipping his large mug of coffee. "Better in the Drunk Tank than in bed with a big, bad faggot." Brian watched Justin's face change. Watched it darken. "Does she know? About you?"

Justin nodded slowly. "I told her last night right before I stormed out of the house. She probably thinks that I have a secret boyfriend and that I'm hiding out in his den of sin."

Brian swallowed his coffee. "Isn't that what you're doing?"

Justin moved against Brian and held him tightly. "I don't know! I'm pretty new at this."

Brian set his coffee cup down on the counter. "So am I. As new as you are."

He kissed Justin's tangled blond hair and smelled his own shampoo in it. They were both still wet from the shower.

It had taken Brian a while to get rid of Michael. Finally, Brian had to promise to be at Deb's house in time for dinner at 6:00. "And don't be late, asshole!" Michael had commanded before he left the loft. "Ma is expecting you, so don't disappoint her!"

That's what I'm best at doing, Brian thought. Disappointing people. My friends. My family. My boss and clients. Everyone -- except....

Justin. He didn't seem disappointed in him. And Brian had been surprised that he wasn't disappointed in himself, either. Brian marveled at the strength and confidence he had felt while he and Justin were fucking.

No. While they were making love. That was the difference. That was what it was. Making love. He finally understood that stupid euphemism. Or he had come to understand it again after a very, very long time. He hadn't wanted to make love to anyone before. He hadn't wanted anyone to get close to him, except for a few friends like Michael and Lindsay. Friendship was complicated enough, let alone love!

But fucking was simple. Fucking was about body parts. Take dick and insert into hole. Simple.

But love... that was about a thing that Brian had almost forgotten he possessed. A heart. And that was a complex, untrustworthy organ. Even more complex and untrustworthy than his cock.

"I can wait here while you go over to see your friends, Brian," said Justin. "Unless you'd rather take me...." Justin hesitated. Brian had implied that he could stay at the loft tonight and he'd told his mother as much. But it had never been stated outright. "Take me somewhere else."

"Yes," said Brian. "Get dressed. I'm going to take you somewhere else."

Justin swallowed. Maybe Brian's friend was right. Maybe he was only a trick. A one-night stand. "Where, Brian?"

"To see Gus," said Brian. And then he noticed the puzzled look on Justin's face. "We're going over to visit my son."

***

Lindsay stared in amazement as Brian walked into the house on Christmas Day with a stranger in tow. A stranger who was holding Brian's hand!

Yes, the same Brian Kinney who blew off his closest friends when he was in a foul mood -- which was often. The same Brian Kinney who only spoke to strangers if he was trying to charm them into bed or into signing with his ad agency. The Brian Kinney who didn't do boyfriends and hated relationships.

THAT Brian Kinney. Holding hands with a strange blond man.

"This is Justin," said Brian. Then he pushed past Lindsay and went directly into the living room where Gus was surrounded by his Christmas toys.

"Yes, I'm Justin," said the young blond man, shaking Lindsay's hand and then taking off his coat. "I've heard so much about you and Mel. And I'm excited to see Gus!"

"Yes," said Lindsay, smiling her perfect hostess smile. She took the young man's coat. "Of course. Right in there."

Mel came out of the kitchen with little Jenny in her arms and the two women exchanged glances. Justin sat down on the carpet with Gus and began asking him questions about Gus' new Corvette. Gus showed Justin how the doors opened and closed and how the car spun around the smooth wooden floor of the dining room with ease, but was much slower on the oriental carpet in the living room.

"Your daddy told me what a big boy you were, Gus! I love your car," said Justin.

"Just like Dada's!" Gus crowed happily.

"Maybe you can come over to the loft tomorrow and bring your new car, Gus," said Brian. "There are lots of wooden floors there. You and I and Justin can order pizza and watch a DVD."

"Yeah!" said Gus. "Pizza!"

"Do you like 'Yellow Submarine,' Gus?" asked Justin. "That's one of my favorite movies."

"I don't think Gus is familiar with that one, Justin," said Lindsay. She was watching Brian watch this young man. It was so odd! There was something so different about Brian's expression. Something different about Brian in general. He was smiling. Really smiling like he meant it. Brian usually smiled at Gus, but it was often a sad half-smile, like in his own head he was somewhere else, remembering something melancholy. Like his own childhood.

There was none of that now. Brian wasn't sitting somewhere in the past. He was right here.

"We can go to the store and get a copy tomorrow," said Brian. "Even on a Sunday all the stores will be open early for the hordes who can't wait to return the horrible clothes their relatives gave them for Christmas!" Brian shuddered.

"That's true," said Justin. "My mother always gives me something awful. She doesn't have a clue!" Justin turned around and put his hand on Brian's knee. "That reminds me, Brian. We have to get her car and take it back to the house. I don't want to leave it parked on the street another night."

Brian nodded. "Then we better get moving or we'll be late getting to Deb's. She'll serve my dick on a plate instead of the main course if I'm late again this year." He stood up and Gus ran over and hugged him. "So, maybe tomorrow? 'Yellow Submarine'? Okay, Sonny Boy?"

"Okay, Dada!" Gus replied. "And Justin?"

"And Justin," said Brian. "Of course."

Lindsay went to get Justin's coat and Mel followed her. "What's going on, Lindz? Who is that other guy? It sounds like he's living at the loft. When did that happen?"

"I don't know, Mel," Lindsay admitted. "But it feels like a good thing."

Mel took the coat back into the living room to give to Justin, while Lindsay motioned Brian into the hallway.

"Who are you and what have you done with Brian Kinney?" Lindsay demanded, only partly joking.

"He's right here, Lindz," said Brian. "But...."

"But what, Bri?" asked Lindsay. "Justin seems like a very nice guy, but who is he?"

"He's...." Brian was at a loss for the language to express this emotion that was so strange to him. So very strange and yet also so sweet. "He's here, too." Brian shrugged. "We're here together. Don't question it. I'm not questioning it. I'm just letting it happen."

Lindsay looked Brian up and down. She didn't want him to shut down by pushing him too hard. He often withdrew whenever anyone pressed him about things he couldn't articulate. Or things he didn't want to talk about. Which was practically everything.

Instead, Lindsay smiled softly. "Then let it happen, Brian. For once in your life don't think too much. Don't stop and think at all. Just feel. And follow your feelings."

"I'm trying to, Lindz," said Brian, seriously. "But this is unknown territory for me. I don't have a map. I don't want to get lost."

"Don't worry about getting lost, Brian," said Lindsay. "If there are two of you, then it doesn't matter if you get lost. Wherever you end up together will be someplace good. Believe me."

"I'm trying to believe, Lindz. But I haven't been in that church in a long, long time." Brian glanced back into the living where Justin was talking to Melanie. "Hey, Justin!" he called. "Move your ass! We have things to do!"

Justin bounced into the hallway. "I'm coming!" He put his arms Brian and kissed his cheek. "Let's go!"

"Yes," said Brian. "Let's go."

Continue on to "The Angel -- Part 2".

©Gaedhal, December 2004.

Posted June 8, 2005.