Captivated

Title: Captivated
By: Phoenix Ghost
Rating: Adults Only
Category: Fanfiction
Characters: Justin Taylor, Daphne Chanders, Other Male Character(s), Brian Kinney, Debbie Novotny, Michael Novotny, Emmett Honeycutt, Ted Schmidt, Lindsay Peterson, Melanie Marcus, Gus, Vic Grassi, Cynthia, Other female Character, Jennifer Taylor, Craig Taylor, Molly Taylor, The Chanders, Chris Hobbs
Genre: AU, Drama, General/Misc. Romance, Angst
Warnings: AU, some graphic violence, and at times OOC, with very graphic sexual descriptions
Summary: One rainy night things change when Brian tries something, a little bit different.

Disclaimer: All Characters and situations from Queer as Folk are the properties of Russell T. Davies, Ron Cowen and Daniel Lipman, (Cowlip) Showtime, and others. This author or this website has intended no Copyright infringement. This story has been invented for entertainment purposes only and has been rated by the author, and not by any independent body.

A/N In real life, I'm a professional phone sex operator. In the several years I've been doing it, I have met a few 'clients' I really wouldn't of minded getting to know for real. But, in this
World we live in, that would not only be very dangerous, that would not be very wise.
However; for the sake of our story, well, *snickers* just read it and find out!

Beta by Mary

*Song references: 'Talk Dirty To Me' By, POISON
'Go All The Way' By, The Raspberries & The Baby's
'Baby Blue' By, Badfinger
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CHAPTER ONE

One stormy Friday night in early August inside the suburbs in Pittsburgh, PA 1998

The turbulent crescendo of large jagged white shards of lightning crashed, and the booming thunder roared, as heavy rains fell, splashing hard against the windows and the sides of the sprawling two-story house.

The sudden sounds of screeching wet tires on asphalt coupled with sharp slams of two car doors, added to tumultuous raised voices, soon become the equivalent of the battling heavens above.

Downstairs the front door soon crashed open then slammed shut, alerting the two naked boys upstairs, who just mere moments before were sharing very passionate first time kisses.

The new School year would soon be starting, and both boys were determined NOT to enter their sophomore year at St. James Academy as innocents.

After coming out to each other in their Freshman year, they had agreed if by the end of the summer and the start of their Sophomore year if they hadn't met anyone and alleviated some of the tension by any other means than by their own hands, they would be each others firsts, no romantic strings attached.
The necessary items sitting atop the small light-walnut night stand barely illuminated by the thin, short little silver nightlight lamp, assured a safe yet fun sexual experience and was proof they had been about to take that next big step of 'going all the way.'

How were they to know that minutes later, the yet-to-be-opened package of condoms, the unsealed extra large tube of anal easy-glide lube, and the small illustrated book on gay sex, would be what dammed them both in the eyes of the resident homophobe as they hear him shout above the storm,

"Dammit Jen, what in the FUCK is that Evans kid's car doing here, in OUR fucking driveway?
SHIT! He’s not even old enough to be driving at night! I told Justin NO visitors when we're not home! Especially from fairies like that Evans kid Jen!"

"Craig, put that drink down please, I really think you've had enough, especially when you jumped that curb in front of our house, and will you please lower your voice dear, what ever will the neighbors say!"

"Fuck the neighbors, and fuck you too Jen! I didn't see YOU saying no to the waiter after that what, THIRD glass of red wine?! OR was it white? HELL I think it was both!"

"Craig Taylor! Are you implying that I have a drinking problem?!"

"If the Gucci pump fits dear...Dammit Jen, if that faggot boy has tried anything on Justin, I'll kick his ass!"

"CRAIG TAYLOR! Have you lost your mind? I'm sure that was just a silly School rumor, Justin even said so, and I trust and I believe our son Craig, and you should too! Anthony Evans is the same age as Justin! Good GOD Craig! You can't just go around hitting on children! What in the HELL is wrong with you!?"

"Careful Jennifer, YOU'LL WAKE THE FUCKING NEIGHBORS!"

"FUCK THE NEIGHBORS! AND, AND, FUCK YOU TOO!"

*SMACK*

The resounding slap momentarily freezes the couple and their kisses turn painful as each boy accidentally bites their own tongue in their haste to get away from each other.

"Shit, SHIT! SHIT!!"

"Ow, ow, OW, SHIT!"

Squeaked almost 16 year old Justin Taylor as he quickly bounces off of his small bed, causing the startled boy he'd just been sucking face with. And had been about to fuck or be fucked by, to "Eeep" loudly, as he'd too tumbled off of the edge of said bed just as fast.

Not daring to put on the brighter ceiling light for fear of getting caught, both boys had bumped into each other, hitting their heads together then falling down onto their round little asses.


After hopping around and putting on the wrong pair of pants in the semi dark, they had "eeped" again, quickly trading back.

In their haste to try and get quickly dressed, they've forgotten yet another damning piece of evidence. The two pair of colorful underwear are still lying where they'd left them, balled up on the floor, a cotton slice of blue and a slice of red, peeking out from under the edge of the bottom of the bed.

Sounds of heavy breathing, nervous swallowing, and the intense pounding of their young hearts fills the air as does the smell of the fear of getting caught, as well as the permeating heady musk of two very horny young teenage boys.

Heavy footfalls echo up the wooden stairs, and soon the pounding on his bedroom door has increased as the drunken voice of Craig Taylor begins yelling, "Justin? Open this fucking door right NOW! I know who's in there with you!"

His loud ranting rose above the noise of the raging storm and crackling thunder, causing both young boys to want to piss their pants from the fear, and they are soon left wishing they could disappear.

With tears filling his baby-blue eyes, Justin sadly told his friend, "I have to let him in or he'll break down the door." Giving a helpless shrug he adds, "Afterall, this IS his house."

Pulling on his gray hoodie as he's walking over to flip on the light switch, taking a deep breath, Justin whispered, "I'm so sorry Anthony." to the frozen boy standing there, holding his own shirt, staring back at him with terror and tears swimming in his dark blue eyes.

Releasing the door lock, Justin jumps back in time trying not to be hit, as the heavy light walnut wooden door swings open so fast and so hard, the door knob had left an imprint in the wall, tearing loose the rubber door stop.

Pointing at the trembling dark-blonde haired boy Craig shouted, "Justin! What in the fuck is HE doing here?"

Looking wildly around, the older man's pale blue eyes widen in shock as they take in the truth that is sitting in plain sight on top of Justin's nightstand.

The pain of not knowing, the constant uncertainty is now gone.

What he'd feared all along about his first born, his only son, hits the older man simultaneously in the heart and in the gut as the truth about Justin slams down on top of him.

The shockwaves of the implications of what he sees is making his knees feel weak, and it's not just the large amounts of alcohol he'd earlier consumed at the Country Club that's making his stomach tilt.

After what he's just seen on his son's night table, his head's swimming with grief at the loss of so many things.

So. Many. Things.
Watching his son get married to the woman of his dreams, then giving him the grandchildren that he'll never get to hold, or having a future normal father and son relationship ever again with Justin.

Because his heir. His baby boy, his sunlight, his Justin, is one of them. A cocksucker, a fag, a queer.

And as he's feeling tears threatening to spill, Craig Taylor unleashes the rage inside of him once again building to a fevered pitch as he shrieks, lunging at the half naked boy he believes has tainted his son.

His rage eclipses his common sense and his judgement.

It's in that moment he's become the worst nightmare for Anthony Evans.

For Anthony and Justin, everything moves in slow motion as the dark-blonde boy feels himself airborne, and then crashing into the wall behind him.

Justin watches horror-stricken, as his father begins beating the boy.

Curled into a little ball, Anthony is screaming, and moaning in terror and in pain.

Hovered above him, his eyes wild, and fists flying, Craig Taylor has snapped.

The shock is soon wearing off as the seriousness of the surreal scene in front of him bleeds into his brain, like the blood now covering Anthony's once pretty face when Justin opens his mouth and screams, "MOMMY COME HELP! HE'S GONNA KILL HIM!! DADDY IS GONNA KILL HIM!!"

Downstairs, Jennifer Taylor drops the thick crystal glass of water that she has just poured herself, and runs for the stairs to Justin's room.

Sending a small prayer heavenward, she's thankful that Molly won't have to witness whatever is going on upstairs, because she's safely spending the night at a friends house, at a sleepover.

Pausing to grab her slim tan Gucci purse off of the top of the cherrywood front voyeur table, because she doesn't think it would be wise to waste anymore time digging inside of it for her cellphone. She’s practically flying up the stairs, she now runs to the doorway of her sons bedroom.

The sight that meets her eyes has her clutching both hands to her chest.

Throwing her purse on top of Justin's bed she lunges at her drunken husband.

Justin, admiring his mother's bravery, jumps him too.

Together, they manage to knock Craig off of Anthony, and with both of them now sitting on top of Craig, Jennifer and Justin shout to Anthony to, "RUN!"

Despite the fact that he feels like he's been hit by a truck, Anthony rolls over, moaning at the sharp pains shooting up and down his battered and bleeding body.

Clutching at his sore ribs and stomach, he sits up shakily, carefully pushing himself into an upright standing position.
Looking over at the surreal picture of the three Taylor’s, they look like the typical WASPY family, home on a friday night, playing a game of twister. Except for the fact there is no plastic mat with large circles of red, blue, green, or yellow, nor is there a spinning color disk.

Shaking his dark-blonde head to clear the dizziness, he almost falls down as Justin and his mother again shout, "ANTHONY GET THE FUCK OUT! RUN!"

"GET THE HELL OFF OF ME!" An enraged Craig Taylor roars, throwing both Jennifer and Justin backward off of him into a tangled heap.

He didn't have to be told a third time.

And, leaving his shirt and shoes, underwear and socks behind, Anthony runs out of the room, smacking into the hall wall, then taking the stairs three at a time, hits the bottom of the stairs at a dead run.

Throwing open the heavy wooden front door, he stumbles down the wet brick stairs, and tears across the saturated muddy front lawn, almost slipping in his haste to reach the safety of his car.

Behind him, he hears the thunderous pounding of Justin's drunken father stumbling down the stairs in hot pursuit.

"Get back here you little fucking pansy! I'm not done kicking your ass yet!" He bellows.

Tearing around the corner, Anthony feels fingertips ghost across his naked rainslicked back, and then he hears a loud "UGH!" and a large splat! From behind him.

Not daring to look back, he makes a beeline for his little red Mazda.

Jamming his hand into his tight rain-soaked stonewashed Levi’s he frantically fishes around for his car keys.

As his icy fingers close around the cool jagged metal, he rips them out of his pocket, pushes the doors unlock button, then quickly opening the driver’s side door; he dives into his front seat.

Slamming the door behind him, he's crying and fumbling for the door arm button to lock all four doors to keep him safe from the madman outside.

Closing his eyes briefly, he pops them back open when he hears the heavy slam on the hood of his car and a scream tears from deep inside his bruised throat as he now sees the menacing shape of a very drenched and very muddy Craig Taylor.

At that moment, the lightning strikes in the sky, illuminating the fury etched in the older mans face.

Crying harder, as his shaking, frozen fingers fumble for the ignition key, Anthony's heart skips a beat, and his stomach lurches wildly as he watches heavy fists slam down violently onto his windshield.

Cold ribbons of reality slither up his spine as he realizes one thing.

Justin Taylor's father was really trying to kill him.

"I will KILL YOU, you little cocksucker!" Thunders the drunken man, unaware of his neighbor’s lights now popping on to watch the show.

Not a one of them moved to help the terrified little fifteen-year-old boy trapped inside his car.

Besides, what in the hell was he doing out this late at night on a permit? As far as they were concerned, the boy was getting the ass kicking his own parents should have given him years ago.
Anthony Carl Evans, always breaking the rules.

Now the embarrassment of St. James Academy, because last year, he'd been caught in the locker room after a football game, giving their prize pupil and football player Christian Hobbs a hand job instead of a hand towel like a good towel boy. Of course Chris had been innocent. He’d been the victim of that perverted Evans boy.

So, they all felt the same as Craig Taylor did.

A good queer, was a dead one.

Eagerly, they watched and waited for the outcome, and as far as they were concerned, that boy was getting what had been coming to him for a long, long time.

Inside the red Mazda, Anthony is elated as he finally finds the ignition key.

Shoving it into the slot and twisting the car on, he slams the car into reverse, not caring that the sudden action has caused his abuser to pitch backwards onto his ass into the puddles of mud behind him.

Once safely in the street he zips down his driver and passenger side windows and sticking his head out into the pouring rain he shouts, "FUCK YOU CRAIG TAYLOR! AND FUCK YOUR NOSY NEIGHBORS TOO!" HE TRIED TO KILL ME YOU HOMOPHOBIC ASSHOLES! AND FUCK YOU FOR NOT EVEN CARING OR TRYING TO HELP ME! I SEE YOURE FUCKIN' PORCH LIGHTS ON! I'LL SEE EVERY ONE OF YOU BASTARDS IN COURT FOR WITNESSING A CRIME, AND NOT DOING A FUCKING THING ABOUT IT! TAYLOR YOU FUCKING PRICK, I'LL SEE YOUR ASS IN COURT TOO! YOU'VE FUCKED UP ROYALY BIG MAN! MY UNCLE ROY WILL HAVE YOUR BALL'S FOR BREAKFAST CAUSE HE'S A FUCKIN JUDGE YOU ASSHOLE!"

And, with that he shot them all the bird.

Zipping the windows back up he speeds away, fishtailing on the slippery road taking out a couple of fancy white mailboxes on the way to the hospital, where he planned to extract his revenge on them all by getting photos and documentation of his multiple injuries.

Upstairs in Justin's room, Jennifer and Justin are hurriedly packing his things, shoving as much of his stuff into the large suitcase and canvas tote bag as would fit. Wordlessly she adds the things on his nightstand to the suitcase.

In that one act alone she's showed Justin that she was on his side.

Jennifer is softly babbling to herself and crying.

Her heart breaking, she opens up her purse searching for the only two things she can do now for her son.

After writing Justin a blank check from her secret account that her husband had no idea she'd had for the last 3 years, daintily wiping away her tears with a peach-colored tissue from her purse. She takes a calming breath then clearing her throat. She digs out her red cellphone and called him a cab, telling the dispatcher to have the driver meet him a block away at the covered bus stops, and after giving the name of the street it was located on. She switched off her phone, turned off the ringer and placed it back into her bag.

Reaching into her slim brown and hunter green leather and suede wallet, she quickly handed him all of the folded cash she had.

He shoved it deep into the front pocket of his khaki pants before walking over to his closet.

Standing on tiptoe, he felt around the top of his shelf for his savings pass book.

Grabbing the heaviest coat he owns, he slipped it on and zipped it up, pulling up the hood of
the hoodie and covering his blonde hair.

That slender savings booklet, the loose change in his crystal coin dish on his hi-top dresser and his black leather wallet were the last things he picked up and stuffed into his pockets.

Hugging his sobbing mother, he then pulled back a bit as his lips barely touched her soft cheek.
Saddened crystal blue eyes mirrored each other.

They had said all that there was to say.

Because Justin was gay, Craig Taylor would never let him live with them anymore.

And, because she had Molly still to consider, Jennifer had to choose her and Craig over Justin.

Slipping the wide black strap of his dark blue canvas tote bag over his left shoulder, and bending down to grasp the heavy hard plastic handle of his large dark blue suitcase. He looks once more at his mother and he tries to smile as he says, "Mom, keep him busy, I'll slip out the back, okay?"

Smiling at her brave boy, 'no man', she thought, she replied, I will."

And before she walks out of her sons room, she turns to him and says, "Justin, keep in touch. You've got enough cash to get a nice room for the night, and still have money left over, and I'll call my sister in Chicago tonight after your father goes to bed, and see if she can take you in until your school starts. Sweetheart, be patient until I can figure this all out, okay? On Monday, take that check I wrote for you, fill it out to what you think will hold you for a while, then cash it and put it into your savings. Your college fund my parents left to you is safe, he cannot keep you from it, it is yours and yours only. But, we both know that if you stay here you'll be in danger, so you must leave quickly. You have my cell number honey, call me when you get a room, and leave me a message. I'll turn the ringer off so as not to alert your father. I love you son, be safe and take care."

At the downstairs bellowed, "JENNIFER!"

Justin waited a few minutes before he too walked out of his room, and didn't look behind.

Once safely downstairs and outside in the dangerous storm, he can hear the shouting begain.
Sending a small prayer her way, he's glad it's raining so hard because the pouring rain hides his falling tears.

"Hey kid! You the J. Taylor that called earlier for a cab?" Yells out a bald guy from his open window as he slowly pulls his yellow cab along side the curb coming to a stop but leaving the car running.

Startled, Justin is almost falling over backwards from his uncomfortable perch on top of his large suitcase where he's been waiting underneath the dark silver covered bus stop for what seems like forever but in reality, only fifteen minutes has gone by since he's left his house up the street.

"Yes I am." Justin replies, as he jumps up and quickly enters the cab, hauling his luggage with him.

Waiting until after the young boy is shutting the door, and situating his baggage, the burly driver asks casually, as if he always picks up boys in a thunderstorm at 9:00 at night, "Where to kid?"

Sinking back into the comfortable black leather seat, Justin replies, "Liberty Avenue."

And closes his wet eyes.