(no subject)
The past couple of days I've been trying to take my mind off things, so I tried to write. Surprisingly, it worked, and now I've written my first crossover, my first QaF fic, my first slash, and my highest rating yet. It's funny I've never written this kind of stuff when it's practically my favorite. Oh well. :/
Title: Don't Turn To God (because you're cold)
Pairing: Brian/Caleb [Queer as Folk/Buffy the Vampire Slayer]
Rating: Hard R. Which is why for now it'll be locked. I don't want anyone IRL to stumble upon this entry by accident. Screw it. It's nothing new anyway.
Setting: Very soon after the Brian/Justin break up in season two.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Caleb's speech about the lord is lifted from 404, as is his line about not being anyone's daddy [Dirty Girls].
A/N: I wrote and rewrote this three times. Hopefully I got it right. For jeudi_demon. Your icons are coming, too, sweetie.
Empty.
Brian is empty. Alone. Except for Michael, but Michael won't come out with him tonight (always have, always will) so his company is poppers and booze and the men at the Liberty Baths. His vision's a little hazy from everything he's taken as he trips down the many corridors and out into the steam room. There it all starts to fade away because Brian finds the most beautiful man he's seen in a long time (except, except) backed up against the wall being sucked off by some underage twink. Though he's a little off his game, he shifts the towel on his hips and stalks over to the pair, like a panther going in for the kill.
"Fuck off," he tells the teenager, who stops the blow job with a mix of anger and confusion. Brian's quickly losing his patience. "I said fuck. Off."
The man, clearly uninterested in his forgotten trick, gives Brian an impressed look. "Well, how 'bout that."
Brian would say something smart or witty if he wasn't so high, but he can tell there's something off about the guy he is trying to pick up (are you broken too?) so instead he settles for, "So are you new in town? I don't remember seeing you at the Baths before." He tries to sound as smooth and seductive as possible, but he's not sure if it worked.
"Just here on..." The stranger pauses to consider his choice of words. "Business, you could call it." He smiles almost sinisterly, and it reminds Brian of the face his father would make right before Brian closed his eyes and hoped for the best.
Never giving up on a challenge, Brian lets the questionable answer go. "Then why don't I show you one of Pittsburgh's biggest attractions."
Fifteen minutes later, Brian leads the trick of the night into his loft, all stainless steel and Italian leather. Everyone always tells him how lucky he is to have such a swanky place to call home, but right now what he loves most about it is that it's the perfect place to fuck so hard you can't think straight.
He shuts the door with enough force to send a shudder through his body and stands there a minute thinking about how many people have walked through this door and how many aren't coming back (therapy time, he jokes). Then Brian makes his way to the bedroom, managing to only stumble once.
"Careful, now. Don't go and bust your head before the main event," the stranger drawls.
Brian shoots him an annoyed glare. "And who the hell are you, my father?"
The trick laughs low, and even though he's practically gone, Brian for one fleeting second wonders if this was such a good idea. "Ain't nobody's daddy, but folks call me Caleb."
"Well, Caleb," he says, pointedly using his name (it's been so long since there were names), "your concern means shit."
Growing impatient, Caleb tells him, "Gotta hurry this along. There's a girl that needs seein' to."
"What, the fags of this 'Burgh aren't enough for you?"
"She's business. Pretty little thing needs to be punished."
Punishment. It all makes sense now (he should be punished). "So you're into S&M?"
"Who said a damn thing about S&M?"
Brian lets this comment slide too because fuck, he can't be alone right now, so he grabs Caleb by the neck and kisses him fiercely. By the time he backs off, they're both panting, and Brian can't remember the last time he's kissed someone that isn't Justin.
(Justin.)
He pushes everything to the back of his mind and forcefully starts to remove his clothing. Caleb does the same. It's only seconds before they're melding together again, lost in the heat of the moment. Brian shoves him onto the bed before hastily grabbing a condom from his nightstand. "Roll over," he commands, and Caleb hesitantly gives in, not used to being subservient. Brian rips open the condom and slides it on and it's not long before he's inside Caleb, desperately trying to forget.
So he concentrates on what he's doing, the exact angle at which he's sliding in and out of this body beneath him, and it hits him. Caleb's just a body, and it doesn't matter that there are names and faces because he's just filling time. Just a body.
And then he starts talking.
"A man who lies with a man will burn in hell." It's muffled because half his face is buried in pillows, but it's there.
Brian freezes, wondering if all the drugs and alcohol he consumed tonight are turning him batshit insane. Lightning can't strike in the same fucking place twice, right? "What did you just say?" (no, no, no. Not again.)
"'Thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind. It is an abomination.' Leviticus, chapter eighteen, verse twenty-two."
"Jesus fucking Christ." He giggles nervously at this joke he just made. But Brian keeps going because in a twisted, ironic way it's fitting. God has screwed him his whole life, why should now be any different? So he tunes out and keeps going until he feels his body spasm and shatter into a million tiny pieces. But it's not the same.
Brian doesn't wait long before he pulls out, suddenly wanting to get far away from Caleb as soon as possible. He flees to his kitchen counter where he does another bump and takes a swig of whiskey. It burns but at least he knows he can still feel something.
He turns around while Caleb dresses, trying to collect all the thoughts that he tried to bottle up but are currently flying around wildly inside his head. He whips around, though, when he hears, "And what do we have here?"
Caleb's standing holding a picture of Lindsay and Gus (family) that he must have found on Brian's dresser. His face twists into a wicked grin. "Pretty lady. 'S she yours?"
Brian can't figure out what that's supposed to mean (she's his Lindsay). "Is she my what? She's my kid's mother."
This amuses Caleb, and he cackles softly while Brian stares stupidly at him, half horrified. "Pretty little whore. Dirty. Bet I could help her out. Show her the Lord. Get inside that fair little body and..."
"Get out!" Brian screams, not able to hear anymore. "Get the fuck out." His voice breaks but he doesn't care because everything else is breaking, too.
A minute passes before anything happens, but Caleb just drops the picture and makes his way to the door. He's gone without another word, and Brian's left standing alone, naked, in the middle of his loft even more empty than before.
(Empty.)
How are you fine folks doing? I think I'm going to UNC!
Title: Don't Turn To God (because you're cold)
Pairing: Brian/Caleb [Queer as Folk/Buffy the Vampire Slayer]
Rating: Hard R. Which is why for now it'll be locked. I don't want anyone IRL to stumble upon this entry by accident. Screw it. It's nothing new anyway.
Setting: Very soon after the Brian/Justin break up in season two.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Caleb's speech about the lord is lifted from 404, as is his line about not being anyone's daddy [Dirty Girls].
A/N: I wrote and rewrote this three times. Hopefully I got it right. For jeudi_demon. Your icons are coming, too, sweetie.
Empty.
Brian is empty. Alone. Except for Michael, but Michael won't come out with him tonight (always have, always will) so his company is poppers and booze and the men at the Liberty Baths. His vision's a little hazy from everything he's taken as he trips down the many corridors and out into the steam room. There it all starts to fade away because Brian finds the most beautiful man he's seen in a long time (except, except) backed up against the wall being sucked off by some underage twink. Though he's a little off his game, he shifts the towel on his hips and stalks over to the pair, like a panther going in for the kill.
"Fuck off," he tells the teenager, who stops the blow job with a mix of anger and confusion. Brian's quickly losing his patience. "I said fuck. Off."
The man, clearly uninterested in his forgotten trick, gives Brian an impressed look. "Well, how 'bout that."
Brian would say something smart or witty if he wasn't so high, but he can tell there's something off about the guy he is trying to pick up (are you broken too?) so instead he settles for, "So are you new in town? I don't remember seeing you at the Baths before." He tries to sound as smooth and seductive as possible, but he's not sure if it worked.
"Just here on..." The stranger pauses to consider his choice of words. "Business, you could call it." He smiles almost sinisterly, and it reminds Brian of the face his father would make right before Brian closed his eyes and hoped for the best.
Never giving up on a challenge, Brian lets the questionable answer go. "Then why don't I show you one of Pittsburgh's biggest attractions."
Fifteen minutes later, Brian leads the trick of the night into his loft, all stainless steel and Italian leather. Everyone always tells him how lucky he is to have such a swanky place to call home, but right now what he loves most about it is that it's the perfect place to fuck so hard you can't think straight.
He shuts the door with enough force to send a shudder through his body and stands there a minute thinking about how many people have walked through this door and how many aren't coming back (therapy time, he jokes). Then Brian makes his way to the bedroom, managing to only stumble once.
"Careful, now. Don't go and bust your head before the main event," the stranger drawls.
Brian shoots him an annoyed glare. "And who the hell are you, my father?"
The trick laughs low, and even though he's practically gone, Brian for one fleeting second wonders if this was such a good idea. "Ain't nobody's daddy, but folks call me Caleb."
"Well, Caleb," he says, pointedly using his name (it's been so long since there were names), "your concern means shit."
Growing impatient, Caleb tells him, "Gotta hurry this along. There's a girl that needs seein' to."
"What, the fags of this 'Burgh aren't enough for you?"
"She's business. Pretty little thing needs to be punished."
Punishment. It all makes sense now (he should be punished). "So you're into S&M?"
"Who said a damn thing about S&M?"
Brian lets this comment slide too because fuck, he can't be alone right now, so he grabs Caleb by the neck and kisses him fiercely. By the time he backs off, they're both panting, and Brian can't remember the last time he's kissed someone that isn't Justin.
(Justin.)
He pushes everything to the back of his mind and forcefully starts to remove his clothing. Caleb does the same. It's only seconds before they're melding together again, lost in the heat of the moment. Brian shoves him onto the bed before hastily grabbing a condom from his nightstand. "Roll over," he commands, and Caleb hesitantly gives in, not used to being subservient. Brian rips open the condom and slides it on and it's not long before he's inside Caleb, desperately trying to forget.
So he concentrates on what he's doing, the exact angle at which he's sliding in and out of this body beneath him, and it hits him. Caleb's just a body, and it doesn't matter that there are names and faces because he's just filling time. Just a body.
And then he starts talking.
"A man who lies with a man will burn in hell." It's muffled because half his face is buried in pillows, but it's there.
Brian freezes, wondering if all the drugs and alcohol he consumed tonight are turning him batshit insane. Lightning can't strike in the same fucking place twice, right? "What did you just say?" (no, no, no. Not again.)
"'Thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind. It is an abomination.' Leviticus, chapter eighteen, verse twenty-two."
"Jesus fucking Christ." He giggles nervously at this joke he just made. But Brian keeps going because in a twisted, ironic way it's fitting. God has screwed him his whole life, why should now be any different? So he tunes out and keeps going until he feels his body spasm and shatter into a million tiny pieces. But it's not the same.
Brian doesn't wait long before he pulls out, suddenly wanting to get far away from Caleb as soon as possible. He flees to his kitchen counter where he does another bump and takes a swig of whiskey. It burns but at least he knows he can still feel something.
He turns around while Caleb dresses, trying to collect all the thoughts that he tried to bottle up but are currently flying around wildly inside his head. He whips around, though, when he hears, "And what do we have here?"
Caleb's standing holding a picture of Lindsay and Gus (family) that he must have found on Brian's dresser. His face twists into a wicked grin. "Pretty lady. 'S she yours?"
Brian can't figure out what that's supposed to mean (she's his Lindsay). "Is she my what? She's my kid's mother."
This amuses Caleb, and he cackles softly while Brian stares stupidly at him, half horrified. "Pretty little whore. Dirty. Bet I could help her out. Show her the Lord. Get inside that fair little body and..."
"Get out!" Brian screams, not able to hear anymore. "Get the fuck out." His voice breaks but he doesn't care because everything else is breaking, too.
A minute passes before anything happens, but Caleb just drops the picture and makes his way to the door. He's gone without another word, and Brian's left standing alone, naked, in the middle of his loft even more empty than before.
(Empty.)
How are you fine folks doing? I think I'm going to UNC!