Author: admin

The Millennium on 13th St.

The truck rumbled into the first switchback on Cypress Bowl Road, engine humming low as the elevation climbed. We passed the occasional road cyclist grinding their way uphill, and Drew cracked his window as the forest shifted from second-growth cedar to something older, wilder.

The traffic was still light as we pulled into a viewpoint parking lot 2 minutes later, the air sharper at elevation but still sun-smeared. A group of riders by the picnic area paused when I dropped the tailgate and wheeled out the lime green Kona. One of them gave a low whistle.

“That’s a Kona?”

I didn’t bother answering; it was right on the frame. “Helmet first,” I said, tossing Drew my spare gloves: black Fox Rangers with the left thumb seam fraying from a tree branch incident last fall.

He caught them one-handed, turning them inside out. “Do I want to know how many sweaty ranger hands have been in these?”

“Just mine.” I yanked on my own gloves. “And maybe a squirrel.”

Drew fake-gagged but pulled them on, flexing his fingers. The cuffs swallowed half his wrists. “I look like a kid playing dress-up.”

I reached over and tugged the Velcro straps tighter. “Better than going home with a bunch of blisters.” My thumb brushed the gauze on his elbow, just briefly, before I stepped back.

“You sure this isn’t too much bike for me?” he asked.

“You handled the backflip fine,” I said, passing him a bottle from the back. “BLT starts mellow. I’ll call it if it doesn’t feel right.”

He nodded and clipped the helmet strap. “Lead the way, Ranger.”

We rolled out of the turnout and coasted past the picnic area toward the start of BLT. I dropped my seat post and gave Drew a quick look over my shoulder.

“This one’s chill. Mostly mellow flow, just a couple corners that’ll keep you honest.”

Drew’s eyes tracked the narrow trail as it dipped into the trees. “Mellow for you, maybe. This looks like bombing down 29th Street in the rain.”

I laughed. “You’re gonna be fine. Just don’t lock your front brake and you’ll live.”

We started in. I kept the pace easy, checking behind me at the flatter sections. Drew was handling it, loose in the hips, too much weight forward on the first few rollers, but he’d find his balance.

We stopped at a shady pullout a few minutes in, where the trail hugged a notch between two granite humps. Drew unclipped his helmet and dragged a sleeve across his forehead.

“Okay, I take it back,” he panted. “That root section? Nearly murdered me.”

I tossed him my water bottle. “You stayed upright. Most people eat shit on the second bend.”

He leaned on the handlebars, shaking his head. “I swear, that wasn’t ‘chill.’ That was ‘North Shore initiation rite.’”

I grinned. “You passed. Barely.”

He shot me a crooked look but didn’t argue. When he swung back into the saddle, there was a hint of something in his expression, confidence maybe, or just the high of surviving something that pushed him.

I rested one hand on my grip. “Slippery Canoe isn’t as bad as it sounds”. Nothing too sketchy. Want to try something slightly more challenging?”

Drew exhaled, but the grin stuck. “Lead the way, Ranger. I’ve still got both kneecaps, might as well use ’em.”

We pushed off again, tires crunching over pine needles as the trail leveled out. Less tech, more flow. The kind of riding that lets you breathe a little, take in the scent of cedar and damp earth. It was the kind of quiet that felt earned.

And for once, I didn’t need the silence to be alone.

We rolled back into the parking lot around 3:00, the bikes streaked with dust and pine grit, both of us sweat-damp and grinning. I had the Kona rental until four, but Drew was already peeling off his gloves like he’d gone ten rounds.

“Not bad,” I said, leaning the Ibis against the tailgate.

“Not dead,” he replied. “That’s a win.”

I dropped the tailgate and pulled out two water bottles and a protein bar. We were just about to start loading the bikes when another rider coasted up, maybe seventeen, with her hair in a low braid and a visor flipped backward. She was walking her own scratched-up Giant and gave us a quick once-over.

“Damn,” she said, nodding at Drew’s bike. “That’s a Process 153?”

Drew blinked, taken off guard. “Uh, yeah. Rented it.”

She squinted, approving. “Solid choice. Wish I could convince my parents. I need a full suspension for green trails.”

Drew smiled sheepishly, straightening a little. “It’s been good. I only ate shit once.”

She smirked. “Then you’re doing better than my brother. He cracked a derailleur on his first run.”

“Tell him to take up skateboarding,” Drew joked.

“Yeah, no. He’d cry the first time he scraped a knuckle.”

She grinned, then gave a little wave and rolled off toward the trailhead.

Drew watched her go, then looked back at me with a mock-serious face. “See? You weren’t the only one impressed.”

I tossed him the protein bar. “She was into the bike, not the rider.”

He ripped it open without another thought, still beaming. “Jealousy looks good on you, Charlie.”

We coasted down from Cypress, past the switchbacks, and back onto the freeway. I returned the Kona, mud-specked, derailleur humming a little louder than it had when we picked it up, and said a quick thanks to the tech.

After that, we cut west through the neighborhoods toward Central Lonsdale. The sun was lower now, dragging tall shadows across 13th Street. Drew leaned back in the passenger seat, his hair sweat-damp and a new trail of scuff marks across one shin.

“You wanna come up for a bit?” he asked, nodding at his street corner. “Grab a drink. Shower if you want.”

I hesitated with my hand still on the shifter. I could’ve said no. Should’ve, maybe. But I remembered, his dad was still away on the island. The condo would be empty.

“Sure,” I said. “But I need to find a parking spot first.”

He grinned. “Pull into the alley. I’ll let you into the garage and park in one of our spots. My dad took the Cayenne to the island.”

The underground was sleek and spotless, full of BMWs and matte-gray Audis. A black Maserati sat angled like a shark in its slot. My Chevy Colorado looked like someone had driven in from a different province.

“No one’s gonna care,” Drew said, slinging his pack over one shoulder as he got out. “Most of these guys don’t even live here full-time.”

I followed him into the elevator lobby. Drew tapped a black key card against the elevator reader and pressed PH.

Penthouse.

My stomach tightened, not from nerves, exactly, but from the sheer contrast to my Maple Ridge roots.

Eighteen floors wasn’t a skyscraper, not in this city, but when Drew unlocked his front door, the view made it feel like one.

Windows lined the entire far wall, looking out over the inlet toward downtown Vancouver, glass towers gleaming in the afternoon light. Beyond them, past the blue haze of Boundary Bay, Mount Baker in Washington State floated like some ghostly sentinel. It was the kind of view you expected from a real estate ad or a movie. Not from a kid barely out of high school.

“Holy Sh..” I muttered.

Drew shrugged off his shoes. “Yeah. My dad got the corner unit during pre-sale. He likes bragging about how fast it appreciated.”

I stepped closer to the glass. From up here, the city looked calm. Ordered. I’d seen a view like this before: once a summer, Allan, the District Director for Recreation & Culture, hosted a BBQ at his house in Forest Hills for all the full-time and seasonal rangers. His backyard had a similar panorama, minus the clean lines and marble finishes. Allan’s was all weathered cedar and native shrubs. You stood there with a burger and a beer in your hand, watching the sun dip past the skyline, thinking, yeah, maybe it’s not all politics and budget cuts.

This? This was colder. Too clean. No scuff marks. No messy cords. No IKEA anything.

“You want water or something?” Drew asked from the kitchen, already moving like this was normal.

“Water’s good,” I said, still looking out.

I turned away from the view and wandered farther in as Drew washed his hands in the sink. Drawn by the subtle clutter along the hallway console, just enough to feel lived in. A row of frames lined the wall above it. Most were matte silver with thick mats, curated like someone cared more about the gallery effect than the memories inside.

One photo spoke volumes more about his family than Drew ever could.

A blonde woman stood on a pristine lawn in front of a just-sold modern home, perhaps in the British Properties, smiling widely in heels and a fitted blazer. A toddler rested on her hip, blond too, cheeks round, and beside them stood a girl, maybe ten or eleven, hand on her mother’s waist, chin lifted like she already knew what ambition looked like. The “Sutton Realty: Melissa Hartley–Pierce” sign gleamed beside them.

That had to be Drew’s mom. And his sister. The name was hyphenated, and there was no sign of a husband in the shot. Independent. Driven. Maybe the house was her first big sale. Or it could have been theirs.

I scanned the others.

His dad showed up next, with a different vibe entirely. A crisp black robe at UBC Law convocation, smiling with what looked to be Drew’s grandparents. Beside that photo was another of him holding a champagne flute, toasting over a cake that read “Congrats Phillip – Called to the Bar!”

Next to that, a photo of Drew’s dad shaking hands with John Horgan, back when he was the Premier of BC. Both were smiling widely, though only one looked practiced at it. 

The final photo among those was less polished, clearly shot on a phone. Drew’s dad was in a designer polo, standing in front of what looked like a Formula 1 car in a sponsor pavilion. The kind of picture you took, not because it meant something, but because it looked impressive. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Drew appeared at my shoulder, holding out a glass of water and another in his other hand. “Yeah,” he said, following my eyes. “That one’s from when he passed the bar. Before me.”

I nodded. “Your mom?”

“That was her first eight-figure listing. My dad said she printed it for all her clients that Christmas. She’s in Winnipeg now. Think it was last summer she told me she sold a penthouse to Connor Hellebuyck.” He gestured at the earlier frame.

“And your sister?”

“Lives in Toronto, did her degree in some theatre stuff, I think. Anna only comes back for some Christmases when her productions wrap up early for the season.”

Drew handed me the glass of water and leaned against the counter. I took a sip, cold, filtered, not tap. Everything here was like that. Just a little more refined than I was used to.

I drank my water as I looked at the edge of the table and saw the photos of Drew. One showed him tugging on a gold ribbon, a mess of wrapping paper around his feet, with who I guessed was his mom smiling behind him. Another was from the deck of a BC Ferry and looked recent, Drew in mirrored sunglasses, grinning into the wind.

And then one I didn’t expect: Drew, younger, maybe twelve or thirteen, in a navy blazer with a blue and yellow tie and a school crest I didn’t recognize. A private school kid, I realized. Polished shoes, pressed pants. It suited him in a way he probably wouldn’t admit. The kind of childhood that knew structure and expectation.

I didn’t say anything to him, but something about it twisted unexpectedly in my chest. Not envy, exactly. Just… the shape of something I’d never really had.

“You want a quick shower and fresh clothes?” Drew asked, finishing his water. “I’ve got some sweatpants my dad never wears. And I think there’s a new pack of his boxers in the linen closet. Still sealed. Promise.”

I still felt out of place up here and almost didn’t know how to respond, but perhaps I didn’t need to. He tilted his head toward the hallway.

“Guest bath is through the door next to mine. En suite. That’s the one Anna uses when she visits, so mind the heated floors. They’ll spoil you.”

The guest en suite was nicer than my entire apartment. White slab counters, one of those toilets with a bidet like you’d see in a luxury hotel, and a glass-doored shower that looked like it cost more than my truck’s last timing belt.

I dropped the sweat-damp mountain bike kit in a pile and stepped in, twisting the first knob. Nothing. I tried the second. Cold mist. Third, a scalding jet to the shoulder.

“Jesus—”

I flailed and slapped it off, already dripping, trying to find the sweet spot, but the system was one of those designer setups with no labels and too many settings, some mix of Euro design and sadism. I twisted another dial and got a blast from the ceiling rain head. Still freezing.

“Uh…Drew?” I called out, angling my body behind the frosted corner of the glass panel.

No answer. I tried again, louder this time. “Drew. You got a second?”

Footsteps padded across the floor outside the bathroom, then a pause. “Yeah?”

“Sorry, but how do you get the shower to stop trying to kill me?”

The door creaked a little as he leaned in. “Oh yeah. You have to turn the middle dial backwards, like toward the wall, or it keeps defaulting to cold.”

I reached and adjusted it. Warmth rushed in instantly.

“Got it,” I said, glancing toward the blurry shape behind the door. “Thanks.”

A few seconds passed before Drew replied, voice a touch too relaxed. “Yeah. No problem. You, uh… good in there?”

I smirked, water steaming around me now. “Better than five seconds ago.”

His footsteps faded. But not before I caught the hesitation.

The built-in shelf in the corner was stocked with floral-scented products, rosehip, something with pomegranate, a suspiciously glittery scrub, all likely left by his sister Anna months ago. I was just about to shout again behind the glass when I saw something Drew had left on the bathroom counter when he popped his head in: Kiehl’s Body Fuel. Masculine. Subtle. Good enough for me.

I scrubbed off the day, trail grit, sunscreen, pine dust, and stepped out onto the tile floor, only realizing too late that it was heated. I nearly yelped at how good it felt. Luxuries I didn’t know existed.

A fresh towel was already draped over the rack. I dried off quickly, tugged the bathroom door open, and wandered barefoot into the adjacent guest room. The lights were dim, and the late-day sun was casting long shadows across the floorboards.

Laid out on the neatly made bed was a pair of dark grey Under Armour sweatpants, a folded G/FORE golf polo made of soft athletic fabric, and a three-pack of Pierre Cardin boxer briefs, still sealed, size large.

Smaller than the XLs I usually wore, but I wasn’t going to complain.

I ran a hand through my hair, still damp, and took a breath. The condo was silent. Drew wasn’t hovering. He wasn’t at the door, smirking or ready to make fun of me for about to put on a dad bod outfit.

Part of me almost wanted him to be.

I grabbed the underwear and started getting dressed. Everything fit, but more snug than my frame was used to.

Picking up my MB clothes, I exited the guest room, closed the door behind me, and went into the kitchen, bare feet sinking slightly into the marble flooring. The condo was quiet, almost too quiet, the hum of the fridge and the distant city noise the only sounds.

I popped the built-in Miele fridge open and poured myself another glass of water from the Brita pitcher. Inside the fridge, rows of takeout containers lined the shelves like Tetris pieces. A few designer kombuchas. An unopened jar of kimchi. A single lemon from the Whole Foods across the street.

It was the kind of fridge that said: someone lives here, but not by necessity.

“You hungry already?” Drew asked, emerging from the hallway in pajama pants and a faded Hurley t-shirt that clung to his shoulders like it’d been through a dozen hot washes.

I glanced at the containers again. “You’ve got enough leftovers to cater a wedding.”

He smirked. “None of it’s mine. Dad eats takeout like it’s a tax write-off.” Drew came around the island and flicked open a food delivery app with muscle memory. “There’s this noodle place I like. Want me to order?”

I leaned on the counter and looked at the name. I’d passed it multiple times when rumbling down Lonsdale. “Isn’t that place like… two blocks away?”

Drew looked up from his phone. “Yeah. That’s what deliveries are for.”

I shook my head, half-laughing. “Guess you can’t carry it home carefully on a skateboard.”

He shrugged. “Welcome to the penthouse.”

We ordered without further discussion. Something with pork broth and soft eggs. While he tapped through the payment screen, he glanced over his shoulder. “I’m gonna hit the shower too. You can put something on the TV to keep you company if you figure out the remote.”

He disappeared into the hallway.

I made an honest effort, clicked the TV on, and stared at the interface. HDMI1. SmartHub. A Disney+ profile called Anna + May 🩷. Nothing made sense. The remote had voice commands. I gave up before I started accidentally pairing it to the window blinds.

Instead, I turned back to the window.

Vancouver’s skyline shimmered through the glass, early evening light painting the towers in steel and gold. Below me, container ships waited off Centerm like patient dogs. The SeaBus slid across the water, neat and quiet, while a Harbor Air floatplane carved its landing arc just before Canada Place.

The kind of view you couldn’t get used to, no matter how long you lived with it.

I took a sip of the cold water and let the silence settle around me. The hum of the fridge. The whisper of Drew’s shower in the distance. The ache of something just beneath it all.

Whatever this was, whatever we were slipping toward, it wasn’t simple. But for the first time I can remember, I didn’t want something simple.

Drew had been in his room longer than I expected. I’d finished my water. Scrolled my phone. Tried the remote again, failed. Even the skyline had started to fade into the summer haze, the AC was on full blast, and I was beginning to feel a chill.

I leaned around the kitchen island. “Your phone’s been buzzing. And I think the food’s here.”

A beat.

Then, from behind the door: “Don’t worry. Concierge got it.”

Right. Of course they did.

I sank back against the counter. My place had a broken buzzer, and the mail slots got broken into every month. Here, you had someone to intercept your ramen before it even hit the elevator.

Still, the silence stretched. No shower running anymore. No footsteps. Just my pulse picking up for reasons I couldn’t fully comprehend.

I walked to the window again, peering down at the row of tail lights inching down Lonsdale, tracing the SeaBus heading back across the inlet. The ache under everything had sharpened. Not loneliness exactly. Just… anticipation. Something heavy and low and patient.

The door behind me creaked.

I didn’t turn right away. Just heard Drew call out “I’m gonna grab the food” as he disappeared, shutting the front door with a quiet click, and the elevator chimed faintly beyond the hallway.

I waited a second, then drifted past the kitchen island and down the short hall. Drew’s bedroom door was open, just enough. Not like an invitation, more like a kid who didn’t think he had anything to hide.

The room felt like a snapshot: not staged, not messy, just lived in.

A longboard leaned against the wall near the closet, its grip tape worn smooth near the nose. His bed was low to the floor, the covers half-kicked off like he’d napped there earlier and never bothered fixing it. The UBC hoodie was slung across the back of the chair, sleeves inside out. There was a Hydro Flask on the windowsill, next to a phone charger curling like a snake off the edge.

A few framed prints hung above the desk: black and white architectural sketches. I guessed they were his, or maybe something he admired. One of them looked like a concept rendering of a skatepark folded into a public square.

Beside the desk, propped in the corner, was his backpack, the one I’d returned. Still unzipped. A mess of skate stickers and a crumpled receipt poked out of the side pocket. One of my Junior Ranger badge stickers was half stuck to the flap.

On his nightstand, a photo strip was pinned to a corkboard: Drew and some girl I didn’t recognize, both mid-laugh on the Stanley Park Seawall. It could’ve been a friend from school, or maybe just a memory he didn’t talk about. I tried not to feel jealous about who it might be.

I stepped back before I got caught lingering. The sound of the elevator rising hummed through the walls. I turned toward the kitchen, just as the front door creaked open again and Drew’s voice floated from the entryway. “Hope you like broth that could melt your sinuses.”

I stepped back around the island, just in time to watch him kick off his slides and drop the delivery bag onto the counter like it was contraband.

He caught my eye. “You didn’t touch the other remote, did you?”

“Thought about it,” I said. “Didn’t want the blinds to close ala ‘The Purge’”

He smirked, already unpacking the food. The rich scent of pork and garlic filled the kitchen. He handed me a bowl heavy with noodles, soft egg just barely jiggling in the broth.

We sat at the island, stools slightly too modern to be comfortable, our knees brushing once, then again. Neither of us moved away.

Drew blew on his noodles, then looked up, serious for a second. “Thanks again. For all of it. The canyon. Lions Bay. The bike. Even the weird-ass stickers.”

I paused with my chopsticks mid-air. “Wasn’t weird.”

“It was,” he said, grinning. “But… kinda perfect.”

I leaned over my bowl and dug in. The first bite hit like a warning. Drew had definitely ordered the spice level ultra.

I reached for my water without trying to make a face.

He caught it anyway. “Too spicy, Charlie?”

I laughed once, swallowed. “Not too spicy. Just… surprising.”

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed.

I nudged my bowl a little to the side. “Hey, you know, most of my close friends call me CJ.”

Drew looked up mid-bite. “CJ?”

“Yeah. Short for Charles Jacob. My mom started it when I was little, and it just stuck with some people.”

He chewed, nodding like he was processing. Then he grinned. “Nah. I like Charlie better. CJ sounds like a video game character.”

I blinked, then laughed. “Really?”

“Totally,” he said, jabbing at a clump of rice. “You’re a Park Ranger, not some dude who carjacks people.”

I hadn’t thought about it like that before. CJ was the name most of my family called me; I went by Charlie to my professors and TAs, but Dean and Soyara had been calling me CJ for years.

“Well, I guess I’m stuck with Charlie, then,” I said.

“Guess so,” he replied, and smiled.

Outside, the sky was still bright, the evening July sun soaking the balconies across the way, reflecting off glass windows and condo railings. Inside, it smelled like garlic and chili oil, and the playlist on Drew’s phone shuffled to something soft and reverb-y that I didn’t recognize.

My phone buzzed with a new notification: sonyaraontheshore posted a story to Instagram. I swiped it open, her and Thomaz at BC Place, mid-laugh, scarves tied in Whitecaps blue and white. If I’d said yes to the game, I’d be wedged in those cheap seats right now, sweating through a thrifted jersey instead of here, Drew’s knee brushing mine, the chili oil still burning my tongue.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Drew teased.

“Work girlfriend,” I said, thumb hovering over the screen. 

When we finished eating, I gathered the empty takeout containers into a neat pile. Drew hopped off his stool and crouched behind the kitchen island, popping open what I’d assumed was a regular cabinet door. Instead, blue LED light spilled out, a built-in wine fridge, sleek and shallow, bottles stacked sideways like a high-end restaurant.

He glanced over his shoulder, already grinning at my surprise. “You drink?”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you offering?”

He shrugged, but his smile was already playing at the corners of his mouth. “Could be.”

I leaned onto the counter. “Drew, I’m not gonna let you drink. You’re eighteen.”

He groaned. “C’mon, my dad let me have some of the bottle of Scotch he opened on my birthday!”

“Do I look like your dad?”

“Maybe you do, you are wearing his clothes.” He shut the fridge with a soft thud, still grinning. “You sound like a narc. You know?”

I crossed my arms, amused. “I am a ranger.”

“Oh, right. And I’m the Junior Ranger narc, my bad.” He beamed somewhat mockingly. “Couch then?” he suggested.

I nodded.

We carried our water glasses over, flopping down onto a leather sectional so clean and white it barely looked sat on. I found the remote buried between two cushions and turned the TV back on. Same overly crisp, high-definition screen. The last time I sat here, I didn’t dare touch anything. This time, I clicked open Disney+ out of instinct.

Drew glanced over. “Didn’t peg you for a Disney guy.”

I didn’t answer because the profile names caught me off guard again: ‘Anna + May ❤️’

I hovered over it, then clicked in. The Recently Watched row appeared, and front and center was The Little Mermaid (2023).

I snorted. “Really?”

Drew immediately leaned over. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” I said, tilting the remote just out of his reach.

He lunged anyway. “That’s my sisters’ account, you narc!”

“I can’t believe you watched this without me.” I swooned

“I didn’t!” He tried to snatch the remote, but I held it higher, leaning into the couch cushions, laughing.

“You totally did.”

“Give it…”

He climbed over me, straddling my hips, wrestling for the remote with both hands. His weight pressed down across my chest and stomach. I could feel the warmth of him, the stretch of his thighs around mine, the subtle shift of his hips as he reached.

“Charlie,” he warned, breath catching a little.

I froze. He didn’t move. The remote had slipped out of my hands behind the couch, forgotten.

I met his brown eyes, and this time, I didn’t pull away.

He leaned down first. Maybe I did. It didn’t matter. His lips brushed mine, tentative, then firmer. I kissed him back, my mouth opening as he deepened it. His hips rolled into mine without hesitation.

My hand slid up his back, under the hem of the t-shirt. His skin was warm and smooth, the muscles under it taut and real and here. I could feel the rhythm of his breath, could taste the trace of chili oil still on his lips.

When we finally broke apart, he didn’t go far. Just hovered there, hair slightly mussed, his expression unreadable but open.

“That,” he said, “was probably overdue.”

I didn’t know what to say.

He was still on top of me, palms pressed to my chest like he was holding me in place. I could feel my heartbeat, sharp and uneven, rattling somewhere behind my ribs.

Drew looked down at me. “Everything okay, Charlie?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Just… surprised.”

“Not too spicy, though?”

I laughed quietly. “No. Not too spicy.”

His eyes searched mine for a second longer. Then he shifted, rolling off and flopping back against the cushions with a groan. “Jesus. That was—”

“A lot,” I offered.

“Yeah. In a good way.” He rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly shy.

I sat up a little, legs still tangled with his. The TV was playing something now, muted opening credits for Moana 2, which had started as we fumbled for the remote, then I looked back at him.

“So, uh,” I said. “Was that a one-time thing, or…?”

Drew turned his head toward me. “Do you want it to be?”

I shook my head before I could talk myself out of it. “No.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. Me neither.”

For a long second, we didn’t say anything. Just watched the cartoon, neither of us was interested in. I heard the faint hum of the fridge, the click of pipes shifting in the wall.

Drew stretched his arms behind his head, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal the waistband of those damn shark Ethikas. “Still think I watched Little Mermaid?”

“You totally did, I bet Halle Bailey is your type,” I teased him.

“I didn’t! No way!” he protested, laughing.

But I didn’t press the point. Instead, I planted my feet back on the floor and reached for his hand to pull him up, and he didn’t let go.

He didn’t ask where we were going, just followed, his fingers laced through mine like we’d done this a hundred times before. We moved through the penthouse’s unnatural quiet, past the kitchen where takeout containers sat stacked like abandoned Jenga pieces, past the guest bedroom where I nearly got 3rd degree burns in the shower.

Into the bedroom, his bedroom, where the comforter was still half-pulled back from this morning, and the UBC hoodie was still draped over the chair.

 

I turned to face him just inside the doorway. “Are you sure you want this?”

Drew nodded again, trusting my blue eyes burning with desire. “Yeah.”

I stepped in first. He shut the door behind us.

Drew pulled off his t-shirt to begin, tossing it toward the chair without looking. The warm lamplight picked out the curve of his shoulders, the faint tan lines from a summer already spent outdoors. He didn’t rush, but he didn’t stall either. When he shucked off his pajama bottoms, he stood there in the shark bite Ethikas, all long legs and sharp lines.

He caught me staring and half-smiled. “Remember these?”

I stepped forward, remembering how well I knew them, how well I knew him. The way they smelled like him. “Yeah. Just… yeah.”

He ran a hand through his hair like he wasn’t sure what to do with the moment, though his eyes never left mine.

I crossed the room, not to touch him right away, but to crouch down beside the chair where he left my hoodie and the navy backpack I’d seen earlier. I opened his pack and grabbed the handful of Junior Ranger stickers, then looked back at him.

When I stood, Drew was watching me with a confused little tilt of his head. “You’re really about to brand me?”

I walked back toward him. “I’d say it’s more of a badge.”

He didn’t move when I stepped in close; I just exhaled this soft laugh and placed my hand on his shoulder. His skin was warm, smooth, and just a little tense beneath my fingers.

I peeled one of the stickers free; it was blue with Jr. Ranger – District of North Vancouver printed above the municipality’s eagle logo, bordered by gold, just like the crest I wore on my uniform sleeves. I centered it over his heart and pressed it flat against his hairless chest.

“Temporary appointment,” I said. “Expires at sunrise.”

Drew glanced down, then back up with a crooked smile. “That’s it? No training? No uniform?”

I looked him up and down, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him blush.

“I mean… You survived the canyon in those. Pretty sure the shark Ethikas count.”

Drew stepped in again, closer now, his hands moving with the kind of confidence that came from having already made up his mind. He pushed me gently, but firmly, back toward the bed, and I let myself fall into the comforter, swallowing my body with a soft sigh.”

He climbed over me, one knee pressing into the mattress as he leaned in. My pulse jumped as he reached for the hem of the golf polo I was still wearing. I raised my arms without a word, letting him lift it off. The polyester peeled away and landed somewhere near his closet.

His hands found the waistband of my sweatpants next. There was a question in his eyes, but no hesitation. I gave a nod, and he tugged them down and off. Now it was just the two of us, me in the Pierre Cardins a size too small, him in those ridiculous shark Ethikas, neither of us pretending anymore.

Drew was captivated by silence. He just lowered himself until our lips touched again. The kiss was slower this time, more deliberate. His mouth was warm, a little dry, and still tasted like pork broth.

Drew’s hand trembled slightly as it pressed against the hair on my chest, not possessive, but steadying himself as much as me. His thumb brushed over the Junior Ranger sticker clinging to his breast, the adhesive failing under our shared heat. That tiny hesitation told me everything: the quickened breath through his nose, the way his eyes flicked down my body like he was mentally mapping unfamiliar terrain.

“I’ve wanted this,” I confessed, the words rough between kisses. “Since the canyon.”

His responding grin against my jaw was all teeth and bravado. “Me fucking too.” But when his fingers hooked into the waistband of his dad’s borrowed boxers, they stalled, just for a heartbeat, before tugging.

The fabric slid down, catching at my hips. Drew exhaled sharply through his nose, his gaze raking over me with something between hunger and hesitation. Lamplight caught the gold flecks in his eyes as they darted from my chest to my hips, like he couldn’t decide where to land.

Then he leaned down, and his first touch of his tongue was experimental, a tentative stripe up my length that had us both gasping. His hands flexed on my thighs, grip tightening as if bracing for feedback.

“Jesus, Drew..” My hips jerked involuntarily.

He pulled back instantly. “Too much?”

The uncertainty in his voice undid me. I carded a hand through his still-damp hair. “No. Just… new.”

Something raw flashed across his face. Then he dove back in with reckless determination, all enthusiasm and zero finesse, sloppy licks, too much teeth at first, his nose bumping my stomach as he took me deeper. It was overwhelming in the best way: every shaky breath, every muffled cough when he misjudged, every time his fingers tightened like he was afraid I’d vanish.

When I finally tugged his hair in warning, he pulled off with a wet pop, lips swollen and chin glistening. “Yeah?” he panted, pupils blown.

“Yes, keep going.” I groaned.

Drew took that as his cue, his confidence growing with each stroke of his tongue. He figured out a rhythm that had me digging my nails into the comforter and my breath hitching in my throat. He watched me intently as he worked, learning my reactions, the way my body tightened, and the sounds I made. Finally, when I did come, it was a surprise to us both, hot and sudden, spilling into his mouth with a strangled cry. He didn’t pull away, just took it, eyes on me, his hand gripping the back of my thigh like a lifeline. 

Drew’s hands trembled slightly as he worked the waistband of the Pierre Cardin’s off my body fully. I smirked at his wide-eyed reaction, like he’d uncovered something illicit, but before he could overthink it, I rolled us over in one smooth motion, pinning him beneath me.

“My turn,” I murmured, nipping at the waistband of the Shark Bite Ethikas. Drew gasped as I dragged my teeth along the elastic, teasing, before hooking my fingers under the fabric and peeling them down.

His cock sprang against his stomach, flushed and leaking. For a second, I just stared. Fuck. He was perfect, topped by a patch of blonde hair, his cut length was all smooth skin with eager twitches, his hips lifting unconsciously like he was already begging. I wrapped a hand around the base, savoring the way his breath fractured, when:

Buzz.

Drew’s phone vibrated on his desk, the sound jarring in the quiet. We both froze and waited for it to stop.

“Ignore it,” I muttered, lowering my mouth.

Buzz. Buzz. It started again.

“Shit…” Drew twisted toward the noise, his body tensing. “It might be the concierge again.”

I exhaled through my nose but released him, sitting back as he snatched the phone. He swiped to answer, putting it on speaker.

“Mr. Pierce?” A voice crackled through. “It’s Jag again at the door. There was something delivered this morning for your dad. I didn’t give it to you when you were down earlier because it was for him, but he hasn’t come home yet. I thought I should give it to you tonight before I go off shift because it was expedited and confidential. Should I bring it up?”

Drew dragged a hand down his face. “No, he’s out of town until tomorrow, I’ll….I’ll come down.” He hung up and flopped back against the pillows, suddenly looking exhausted.

I studied the way his shoulders slumped, the way his earlier confidence had evaporated. “Are you alright, Drew?”

“Yeah. Just… give me two minutes.” He sat up, reaching for the discarded Ethikas and yanking them on with none of the earlier teasing slowness.

I didn’t stop him. Just watched as he tugged his Dickies tee over his head, the Junior Ranger sticker still clinging crookedly to his chest. By the time he slipped out the door, the sticker had peeled off entirely, stuck on the comforter like a discarded note.

I let out a breath as the door clicked shut behind him.

Sitting there, I leaned back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling like it might offer an explanation.

He was eighteen. I kept circling that like it was supposed to make this clearer. Like it was supposed to erase the way he looked at me, or how Dean and Soraya were starting to give me looks that I needed to tread carefully.

But it didn’t.

If anything, it made things worse. Because under all of it, the confidence, the sarcasm, the boldness that seemed to flicker in and out like a dare, there was something softer.

Not innocent. Not naïve. Just… unfinished.

Like he’d slipped out of one version of himself too early and hadn’t fully landed in the next.

And for a second there, I’d stepped right into that in-between space with him, and I wasn’t sure I could find my way back out.

I got back up and tugged on the sweatpants and polo from earlier. My hair was dry now, but I ran a hand through it anyway, trying to shake the moment back into something softer.

When Drew returned, he didn’t say much. Just kicked off his slides and climbed in beside me, pulling the covers up in one motion.

Neither of us tried to start where we left off.

He lay on his side, head close enough that I could feel the exhale of his breath. I mirrored him, shifting until my forehead brushed his. His arm wrapped around my middle automatically, like he didn’t even think about it.

We stayed like that, the two of us beneath the weight of his duvet, the lamp still casting soft gold on the wall. I traced idle lines along his forearm where it rested over my stomach. He smelled faintly like the shampoo from earlier, clean and warm and unmistakably him.

Drew’s fingers slid beneath the hem of my polo, just enough to settle against my skin. Not in a way that asked for anything, just a presence. A reminder.

His voice rasped, “I like this.”

I turned my head slightly, just enough to press a kiss into his hair. “Me too.”

He tucked his forehead under my chin, and I could feel the tension in his body letting go, bit by bit. The city hummed beyond the windows, but in that little pocket of his room, the world had narrowed to the two of us breathing in sync.

Minutes passed. Maybe longer.

Eventually, I checked the time on the clock beside us and sighed.

“I should probably go,” I whispered, not moving yet.

Drew didn’t respond right away. Then, softly: “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” I said, fingers still brushing against his skin. “But I should.”

His arm around me tightened briefly before letting go. “Okay.”

The smell of diesel and the throb of the low speed motor was all around and the heat oppressive as sweat poured from each of my pores, the engine room of this old Monrovian motor vessel was tired and worn from 40 years of service to the west African coast. The cake of grease and oil that encased each piece of machinery was witness to its history and lack of maintenance, steam leaked from boiler pumps and hot oil ran down the crank casings.

The engine room crew were all from Nigerian bandit gangs of Bakassi seeking to make a living from pirating and trading human beings across the continent. Plying their trade from Mogadishu to Lobito to Warri or wherever the business drew them.

My tasks were simple involving oiling and cleaning the propeller shaft that ran from the mid ship engine through 50m of shaft tunnel to the prop. Tasks were non-stop during the 4 hour watch. The shaft tunnel was my prison where I was kept during each watch closed from its engine room access by a bulkhead door for which only my body master had the key. Abdu was his name and he was some 15 years my senior and had been on the ship for 2 years and my Master since I had been drawn and entrapped while the ship was alongside in the Apapa port in Lagos 6 weeks previously. Abdu was an Ijaw Nigerian extremely handsome 1m80 with a closely cropped head and muscled torso and thighs with the meanest streak of any human I had ever come across until then.

My watch was coming to an end as the sweat dripped steadily from all over my completely naked body; from brow down my chest to trickle between my thighs to drip into the bilges below, oil covered hands had wiped stains to face, body and thighs. As I finished the greasing of the prop joint and oiling the final bearings I heard the bells from the engine room clang and I knew I was late for watch change and would need to run back the 50m of tunnel for Abdu to let me out and prepare for the evenings trials. As I returned I saw Abdu was watching for me through the bulkhead window as he waited for me to get to the door and place my collar and chain ready for him to enter and take me into his control. He was considerably more powerful than me and had consistently proved it to me since I had been allotted to him by the Captain from day one. So now my body was no longer mine but belonged totally to him. As I placed my broad leather oil and sweat soaked collar around my neck and painfully tightened it to its forth notch pinching the slight fold of skin and restricted my breathing as I had learned to my pain was what Abdu demanded from me before he would come to collect me. The light metal chain was 2 metres long and was clipped to the back of my collar, as I held the chain in my hands I presented myself to Abdu through the window and he inspected me from head to toe and I turned slowly around to show complete submission. The key opened the padlock releasing the handle and the heavy metal door pushed open as the fresher engine room air moved into the prop tunnel. As the door opened I held my chain at arm’s length and dropped my head in respect.

Abdu was dressed as usual in a sweaty singlet that stopped at his hips and was far to small for his muscular profile but that he wore constantly during engine room duties, a black cotton swimsuit stuck to his buttocks and sex. As was his habit he passed excess chain around my wrists that I had presented him and it was immediately evident that he was intending to inspect the tunnel and prop shaft with me and I understood very well that my delay in getting to the door had meant that the next watch had been given a further 20 minutes before change over. I knew what was likely to happen over the coming minutes as the muscles in my stomach tighten and prepared for the coming onslaught. The chain around my wrists tightened as he drew me to him, his fist clenched tight around my chain he pulled my face to his and he sighed slowly saying “you were late again, what happens now my little bitch”, the response always had to be sharp and rapid otherwise the punishment would be all the more vicious “my Master must discipline mercilessly his slave in order to teach him how to behave”. Abdu was pleased with the response as he opened his fist and slapped a full hand across my ear sending my head reeling from left to right and ringing in my ear. His hand remained around the neck pushing my head backwards and forwards. He leaned forward and whispered briefly “now you are going to satisfy me quickly before we go up topside, understood?”

“Yes, Master I understand what you want from me, I beg you to let my mind, body and soul satisfy your every whim”. With that he yanked both chained hands to his sweating groin where my fingers immediately commenced to grasp what remained of the cotton hem housing his sex and testicles. As my fingers explored gently, he turned and pulled me along, following him towards the bowels of the prop tunnel.

He had not given me time to excite his large cock and caress his balls as he would normally do obviously had other thoughts in mind for this evening.

As we approached the tunnels midpoint Abdu released the wrist from the chain and yanked sharply on the collar lifting me off the deck pushing me backwards against the warm steel bulkhead behind, his fist hitting home in the lower groin causing a cringing pain throughout the lower stomach I fell to my knees on the steel decking.

***

It was my third voyage to west Africa with Elder Dempster as assistant engineer to the Fourth Engineer taking the watch 00h00 to 04h00 and 12h00 to 16h00 on the MV Lycaon doing general cargo up and down the west coast. I had completed my electrical apprenticeship at 20 years old and after a year working experience had decided to change completely and travel to see the world. Little did I know how much that was about to change.

We had just sailed into Nigeria’s Lagos Apapa wharf and we expected to be alongside for at least 15 days loading palm oil, logs and cotton. The quay and the ship were bustling, the gangway was overwhelmed with the movement of imported goods dockhands were all around the ship, whores coming and going from the after-crew quarters, occasionally venturing up to the officers’ quarters to ply their trade under the very close and sometimes violent supervision of their pimp. Sub-contractors coming and going for loading food and supplies for the galleys, or mechanics in their skimpy dirty, overalls up and down to and from the engine room to maintain generators or control conformity of this and that. Government immigration officials checking crew passports, police just loitering in the corridors to supervise or coerce and take their cut of whatever trade was going on, or customs ferreting around searching for contraband wherever it might be hidden. My cabin had already been visited twice by them turning out desk and suitcases to inspect each nook and cranny capable of hiding the slightest trace of contraband. I had been present the first time when a short wiry scruffy looking middle-aged man in jeans and tee shirt had been shown into my cabin and introduced to me by my steward, Linus who also stood by and watched whilst I was roughly ordered to go through all my things in detail. It was not easy being ordered around so sharply by this most disagreeable little man and Linus didn’t help as he indicated all the different draws and caches to the man.

I was in tropical uniform at the time, and I had just come up to my cabin after lunch so Linus had already cleaned my cabin and put out all my clean laundry on my bunk.

The customs man had closed the door behind him and pointed to the draws under my bunk telling me to empty them onto my bunk and put the empty draws to one side. I did as he ordered then stood back next to Linus as the Inspector went down on his knees to search in the space under my bunk from where, after several seconds rummaging about, he pulled out one by one several pieces of my sexy underwear and swimwear that would normally have been in my suitcase. I would keep it relatively discrete as it was all rather sensual with provocative thongs and latex swimwear also 2 pieces of female G strings and a suspender belt with two pairs of silk stockings that I would slip into at night when I was alone in the engine room, it made me feel good and horny wandering around the decks in the dead of night with my boiler suit wide open to the cool early morning breeze.

The customs officer found his find most interesting and was pawing over each item very meticulously, asking what it was for and why it was hidden under my bunk, he asked Linus if he was aware of them or cleaned them, Linus turned to me with a smile and winked explaining to the Customs officer how I had asked him to take good care of them, the officer then raised one to his nose to smell it at length turning it upside down and inside out. “These are all yours aren’t they”? he questioned, “I bet you look really good in this red one”. I felt so intimidated and embarrassed as he kept it in his hand while continuing his search then as he appeared to finish he turned to me and lifted his tee shirt and slowly wiped his sweaty chest and armpits with my favourite thong before slipping it over his stomach and slid it down into his jeans and rubbed it on his crotch, closing his eyes and rubbing himself slowly and deliberately for several long minutes until his body convulsed and I could tell he had shot his load into my beautiful red panties. He finished cleaning himself off and withdrew his hand and place the dripping red thong onto my pillow. “All seems to be in order here for now so I can go now, I think you need to be careful around here that the police don’t find you with those things you could get yourself into deep trouble, how about you give me something, so I won’t tell them about it?” So, I quickly gave him a 500 Naira note and hoped that would satisfy him. I was too naïve, and it finally cost me 5000 Naira. The final humiliation came when just before leaving he asked me with a laugh to drop my shorts and show him what I was wearing, I hesitated but he threatened again to call a policeman from the corridor. Any idea of having to deal with a local policemen terrified me, I had heard so many horrifying tales of torture and enslavement the mere idea made me tremble with fear. I opened my shorts and showed him my regular mini briefs that I wear most times, he was satisfied and left after warning me to be careful. Linus turned to me and smiled again, trying to reassure me as he saw how anxious I was he said simply, “please don’t worry boss you look after me and I will look after you.” I didn’t quite understand what he meant but I thanked him anyway. He leaned over and picked up the red panties the customs officer had used and told me he would take it and clean it and bring it back to me that evening before watch.

The second inspection came two days later and had, as I recall, been done whilst I was on watch and my steward Linus had made me aware after the fact when I had discovered my clothes in neat piles all around my cabin. Linus had arranged everything tidily after.

Linus had been my steward since we had left Tilbury dock and he was a smart neat and handsome young Nigerian from Anambra state, sometimes a little too smart for my liking.

He was quite devoted to me and prepared all my belongings correctly taking particular attention in preparing my clothing to be worn from one day to the next always taking care I remember with my briefs that I wear very small and tight that I used to wear often in front of him while he would clean my cabin, he would I felt linger in making the bed or chat excessively in order to watch me and look me up and down as if weighing up the merchandise. He would often enter quietly the cabin to bring back laundry or to rearrange things without even knocking as if to try and surprise me and at any time of the day especially after the end of my watch when I might be changing or coming out of the shower. This attitude did not particularly bother me, in fact I found it quite exciting. When preparing for my watch I would simply wear, as was the basic engine room uniform a white boiler suit buttoned from the crotch to the neck and just mini-briefs underneath.

With the constant heat of the engine room, it was usual not even to bother buttoning at all, leaving a clear and easy view of the naked torso.
It was under these conditions that I prepared to take my watch at midnight. The ship was alongside, and the Fourth Engineer was working days not his normal watches so I would continue to cover the watch alone as I had for the past three days. Linus had come to layout my clean boiler suit at 11h30 and had hung around for 10 minutes chatting and cleaning as I had changed out of my tropical uniform, he handed me the cleaned and ironed red briefs I was to wear. As he left, I slipped into my briefs and slipped each leg into the freshly laundered boiler suit pulling it up over each shoulder and pulling it into a neat and comfortable position as it sat tightly under the crotch. At 12h00 I left my cabin and crossed the corridor to the engine room access and walked down the six floors of metal stairs down to the control platform where I would take over the watch from the 3rd Engineers assistant.

The watch had been going quietly with nothing to report the engine room was spick and span all temperatures were normal and I was alone to supervise the two generators. It was about 02h20 when as usual I decided to go up topside to take some air and have a look around. I had been sweating a lot and wiped myself down as I came out of the engine room through the shower room and my boiler suit was completely soaked through as I stepped out into the cabin corridor just opposite my cabin, the ship was remarkably quiet as I turned left down the corridor and opened the door to the officers deck, the air was fresh and a slight breeze was blowing, it was good to get out for a couple of minutes as I leaned over the railing looking back over the aft decks towards the crew quarters in steering. The aft was dimly lit and there was no activity on deck.

As I walked from port to starboard, I look down onto the deck three floors below and noticed the aft bulkhead door swing open and Linus come out onto the deck preceding an older taller uniformed man that I took for a policeman. Linus was looking up and indicating to his friend the different levels and decks above until he saw me on the starboard side and waved immediately to me indicating that he was coming up to see me, I waved my agreement back and moved back to the centre of the ship to await him coming up the stairs. It was a little unusual to meet anyone at this time of the morning but I would often see Linus sitting aft by the winches cleaning shoes or similar pastime, but he had never made signs to me or tried to see me.

Linus was leading as they came onto the deck in front of me, the taller man had not yet arrived on the deck as Linus introduced him as his brother Tom from Bakassi who was passing through Lagos to visit him and who had wanted to visit the ship. As he steps onto the deck I could see his uniform more clearly but could still not make out any real indication as to his position, he was apparently a policemen as he introduced himself and held out his hand.

 

In the weak light I could see he was a very well-built bearded man of some 45 years who spoke in very soft tones and was a little difficult to understand, I felt myself leaning forward to hear him better as he asked me a number of polite and what I thought at the time innocent questions. His intense stare was roaming meticulously from my eyes across my face down to my neck and torso, “Linus tells me you always dress like this to work in the Engine room”, I responded, looking down across my boiler suit open to the crotch showing my tiny red briefs that had by now drawn his intense stare “yes of course it gets very hot down there and I sweat a lot, as Linus must have explained to you”, he continued with a phrase half mumbled through his abundant lips, I asked him to repeat then naturally moved and leaned closer to hear, he seemed to whisper “yes I understand, Linus has explained a lot of things to me and how much he appreciates working with you, he is very lucky. I can see from looking at you that you are very handsome and well built”. For the first time Linus spoke and I turned my head to look at him, Tom however was still evidently intrigued by my wet red briefs that had become strangely transparent and made no effort to listen to what was being said, “Sir Tom is a police inspector from my home town and I have often talked to him about you and what a beautiful body you have, I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t mean any harm, and he had asked to meet with you” Linus continued his voice trembling slightly “Tom is a very powerful man in my home town and he can help me and my family back home, you know I have three brothers and sisters who depend on my salary to survive. I really need your help Sir”.

I turned back to watch Tom as he at that instance placed his large open hand on my shoulder his eyes continuing to fix the hair line descending towards the transparency of my red briefs, I sensed a stirring in my loins that surprised me and led me to try and resist from showing any external sign of excitement. Both men drew closer as Linus continued to plead “please sir you have to understand, you must help me, Tom wants a photograph with you and me as a reference, please sir it won’t take long sir, please sir it will help me so much, please sir”. As I turned again to Tom, he took a camera from his pocket and signalled his encouragement to me, “just one or two, nothing much and I can ensure Linus the help he so needs back in his village, come let’s just step in to your cabin for a couple of seconds, OK? Let’s go”, as he took my elbow and signed to Linus to lead the way. Linus had already opened the door to the officer’s deck and had the key to my cabin in the lock by the time I could respond saying “I have no objection to providing a reference for Linus especially as I was very happy with his work. OK let’s go inside”.

Tom’s hand was still gripping tighter and tighter my elbow as we moved inside, the cabin had obviously been tidied whilst I had been on watch and was apparently prepared for identity photos, Tom shut the door behind him and placed his camera on the small desk next to the bunk. I moved to button up my boiler suit and as I did so Tom clearly was not happy and slapped my hand slightly to prevent me from doing so, he even continued by spreading open slightly more each side to better show the nudity below. “Please stand over here by the bunk with Linus beside you, put your hand around his shoulder, yes that’s great, Linus stand up straight, good”, the camera clicked, and the flash sparked. Tom indicated for us to move to the other side of the cabin and put the camera down again as he moved towards me placing both hands on my shoulders and grasping the collar of my boiler suit on both sides trying to abruptly draw it backwards off my shoulders adding briefly in my ear, “I just need a quick one of you just for me, OK……thanks”, as my boiler suit fell to the floor, he already had the camera in his hand and was clicking away frantically, getting closer and closer, he pushed Linus closer to me.

I was surprised but not unhappy at this attention and felt I was quite enjoying it as Linus came very close his hand passed behind me to grasp my hip, Tom continued to click away. The flashes were a little blinding and I had not noticed Linus’s free hand move across in front of me and grasp the top of my briefs and to tear downwards as Tom continued to photograph. “OK that’s all for tonight, thanks so much for your help, let’s go Linus” and both left hurriedly as I was left to readjust my dress and surprise. I was a long way from suspecting how this tiny incident was about to change my life forever.

The next day I couldn’t find Linus anywhere and he had been replaced by another steward who informed me that he had left to return to his village. This surprised me a little as he had never told me anything of his intentions apart from this early morning incident. Still, I was happy he had been able to return to take care of his family build a new life for himself in his village.

The rest of the day passed without incident, and I took watch as usual at 00h00 as usual with little thought of the previous morning’s incident. It was 02h15 when I proceeded out of the engine room to take some air on the officers deck as usual and there as I opened the door leading out on to the deck I came face to face with Tom, his eyes staring down at me, he seemed a full head taller this time and dominating the doorway, he moved aside and invited me out to join him as he apologised for having left so sharply yesterday as he and Linus had to leave and prepare his references and documents allowing him to return to his village. He thanked me profusely for my help and hope he had not upset me in any way. “Of course, not I was more than happy to be able to help, I would like to see the photos you took and make sure there was nothing too embarrassing from Linus’s final clownery”. Tom started now to act quite agitated at this point “well you and I have a slight problem on that score. Let me explain. All the photos were together, and we downloaded to a USB and I handed it over to immigration police first thing this morning and I am trying to get them all back, it should not be difficult but I will need you to come with me tomorrow morning to claim them back, no problem. O.K.”. I indicated that I had to be back by latest 11h30 for my watch and that he would have to provide transport as I had no access to a car. Tom replied easily “don’t worry I will send someone to pick you up at 08h30, make sure you bring your passport and some cash, you never know if they ask for a dash. Better wear your white tropical uniform as well, looks official and perhaps also the briefs you wore last time to confirm the photos. O.K; and don’t worry at all I’ll be at the police station to meet you and clear all this up”.

“That’s fine I’m not really worried as long as you are there to clear things up”, I confirmed. Tom smiled as is if to reassure me and suggested that I not discuss the issue with anyone on board as it might complicate things a little.

Tom turned to leave and placed his hand on my shoulder running his hand slowly down my back and across the pert young buttocks that he had obviously relished from the morning before and squeezed slightly “don’t worry for Linus he is fine, and we can quickly clear this problem together tomorrow morning. O.K……..tell me you’re OK with this, we need to get it cleared otherwise immigration may well stop you leaving the country, you know it’s against the law to be taken in photos like that…..and with two men together as well…..could be very nasty if we are not careful……DO YOU UNDERSTAND…..YES or NO”, my lips began to tremble as the possible consequences started to sink in and images of the possible photos taken may implicate me in….”Yes I understand but I was just doing it to help Linus nothing else, you have to tell them Tom, please, please don’t let me down…”. Now don’t get upset we will settle this first thing tomorrow, don’t forget what I told you, uniform, briefs, car at 08h30 and don’t tell anyone…UNDERSTOOD”. I understood clearly and confirmed to Tom again. He walked away with a broad smile on his face and winked “no worries, count on me, see you tomorrow”.

The rest of my watch my mind went over every possible eventuality from prison to deportation and humiliation for me and my family if news got out, I had to make sure this was all cleared up tomorrow whatever the cost.

My watch finished as usual at 08h00 and I had just 30 minutes to shower and get ready to go ashore, I had been careful not to alert anyone on board and prepared resolutely to solve the problem confronting me. I slipped into the red briefs that I had been wearing the day before and noticed strangely that they seemed slightly lighter and thinner and more transparent than the ones I had purchased prior to coming aboard, standing in front of the mirror I could clearly see through the material to the black curled pubic hair surrounding the apparent form of my cock and balls. I had some doubts as to whether I should wear these to the Police Station as they were to say the least provocative, my mind slipped back to Tom’s instructions earlier that morning and I quickly grabbed my white tropical shorts and drew them up over my buttocks to cover the transparent briefs. Shirt and long knee length socks completed the dress with black shoes. I didn’t bother with the cap that I hated and neglected always to wear. I grabbed my passport and slipped it into my rear pocket and took a wad of all the cash I had with me, about 100 000 Naira in all and stepped quietly out on to the deck.

Getting off the ship was not difficult with all the comings and goings, and I walked to the end of Apapa wharf some 350 metres, quite embarrassing as I walked through literally hundreds of local Dockers and workers milling around in the filthiest conditions imaginable, I stood out like a sore thumb in pristine tropical whites.

The driver had no difficulty in recognising me and made signs for me to join him and another passenger in what was a rundown smelly noisy smoky jalopy that I doubted would ever get us anywhere, the driver however confirmed that Tom had sent him to pick me up to take me to the Immigration “yes Master Tom give very nice photo of him, very good photo, good for wank me and my brother, we show you”, the passenger plunged into the dilapidated dirty glove compartment to pull out a large format well-thumbed and grubby photo of me that had been taken the previous evening by Tom and Linus in my cabin, I was naked except for my such tiny red transparent briefs with Linus stood next to me with his hand around my waist and hand on the top of my left thigh.
“You need to pay in advance 20 000 Naira and we need to check a few things first to make sure you have everything the police will need”. I had plenty with me so paid quickly from the wad that the driver eyed eagerly before starting off.
The heat in the vehicle was almost intolerable as we drove away but stopped just around the corner when the passenger got out and joined me on the back seat with the photo largely in view and the car moved on again.

“First thing I need to see is your passport”, this I took from my back seat pocket and handed to him, he checked briefly and threw forward onto the front seat. “Your uniform we can see is fine, do you have anything else in your pockets, just empty them so we have no problems with the police, they can be very awkward, and we don’t want them to give you trouble”. I showed him the contents of my pockets a hanky and the money that was left. “That’s good the money will help to persuade the police of your innocence; he threw that forward to the front seat and left the hanky on his lap. “Now I need to see you as you were in this photo and see the red lady’s underwear, Tom was very insistent, so just slip off your shirt and shorts”. 
“Is that absolutely necessary I can assure you I have exactly the same red briefs on this morning as in the photo”, I argued feebly.

The driver responded “yes we really must check my brother and I that you have all as in the photo, any mistakes and the police will put you directly in jail, believe me sir, very easy just take off shirt and shorts, easy now do it please…..please sir no fuss…..do it now please sir or we leave you here” and he moved to stop on the road side.
I move to undo my shorts….

“start with shirt please Sir….please sir”, I corrected myself and started to unbutton my shirt, the passenger next to me was growing quite intense and started to rub his crotch and the driver turned quickly into a tiny back alley slum road to slow to a stop and turn to watch the show. It was not easy in this run-down wreck but he insisted saying “we need to see  you as Tom promised us from the photos first………so young Sir you are going to take down your shorts very slowly so we get a good view …..make no mistakes I need to see a bright and healthy erection as you drop those nice white shorts”.

My hands moved slowly to the short button and unclipped it as my hand moved towards the zip to lift its clasp and slowly descend widening the opening to show clearly contrasting my red transparent briefs. I struggled ungraciously out of my short-sleeved shirt and moved to undo my shorts, the driver indicated to the passenger to pass him my shirt, that he grabbed and checked minutely before folding onto the front seat. I undid the top button and unfastened the clasp of my light cotton shorts to slip them to the floor of the vehicle, as I pulled them down, they caught on the briefs at the back, and I found myself with them to half way down over my buttocks but I quickly redressed and showed myself to my two recent friends.

“Just pass me the shorts too….”, urged the driver to the passenger again, who leaned over to help me slide them over my shoes. “that’s just nice, quite like the photo, let me touch them because they look less transparent than the ones in the photo, or perhaps because you are sat down, stretch out a little and turn towards me, what do you think Brother”.

As he was saying this his hand slipped inside his shorts and started to jerk himself off, his free hand reaching out towards me, I withdrew and reached over for my clothes. “I think you have seen enough to check now let’s get moving to get this thing with the police over and done with”. Grabbing my shirt and shorts from the front seat and pulling them from the hands of the driver as he tried to keep a hold of them. “OK..OK Sir no problem, all is checked now we take you to see police…..you are sure nice little boy in little red lady knickers….love to fuck you sir……you suck for free sir…..my cock red hot……you take cock….show me your hot cock…..lovely sweet ass princess ”, as I dressed the two brothers laughed and joked freely at my expense.

“So now you get out here, please to get out, you find your way. You do not want to play with us tough shit for you. Go now.”

I quickly revised my position and replied that I would do as they wished but that they must help me too.

“OK that’s good so give me your stuff and show us your cock and he’ll show you his.”

I drew back my briefs and showed my cock to both men and they seemed a bit disappointed with size and that it was not rigid.

“Not so good Sir, now he shows you his and you suck for him, or you get out.”

His brothers’ cock was considerably bigger and much more rigid than mine as he showed me while slowly drawing back its foreskin. He laughed as I leaned across to take his cock in hand and started to suck his bellhead. He jostled to get into a comfortable position and thrust his cock further into the back of my throat. I’ve always enjoyed sucking cock and had become something of an expert over recent times and this cock was going to be fun.

The driver wanted to help too by placing his hands on the back of my head and pushing in time and laughing encouragement.

The cock soon climaxed and gave plenty of juice to suck on and he relaxed quickly and pulled up his trousers and stepped out of the car to allow his brother the driver to take his place while he took the driver’s seat and turned to watch.

“Now you suck my cock too Sir, please or you get out now.” They left me little option and now I was having to search for his cock and take his trousers down to find it into the bargain. I quickly got him aroused and after two sucks he was already pumping cum, but a nice load. After which I was allowed to dress, and we drove off, the two men taking delight in how I had a beautiful mouth, supple lips and an active tongue and that perhaps later they would allow me to suck their cocks again and again.

Twenty minutes later we drew up outside what appeared to be a run-down abandoned old office building in the middle of a squalid overcrowded slum area with engine repairs and traders everywhere trying to make a meagre living. I really felt uncomfortable feeling all eyes were on me. There was a building on which one could read a few professional plates indicating repair men, lawyers or salesmen, then at the base leaning against the column a sign board “IMMIGRATION POLICE” painted roughly by hand indicating through to the ground floor. As I got out of the car the driver spoke to two men standing by the roadside pointing at me and laughing and as soon as I moved forward towards the building the car drove away noisily with one brother shouting after me and I turned to notice the two men who had been leaning against the opposite wall who now crossed the road to meet me asking if I was looking for Tom, “yes he is to meet me here this morning to see the Immigration Police”, to which the taller man replied “that’s fine he called to let us know you were coming and asked us to look after you, just follow us and do as you’re told, if you’re innocent you’ll be fine, perhaps” he laughed and patted my bottom.

They led me through the unlit ground floor the stank of urine and seat, passing beggars and ruffians in the corridor to the  ground floor area avoiding cans and rubbish strewn across the floor and piles of rubble to a rear stairway that led up to the first floor, I tripped slightly on the uneven steps but was quickly supported by the man following closely behind me as he held my arm “you need to be careful on these steps let me help you”, his hand sliding down to support my buttocks and thrusting me upwards and forwards through a curtained opening leading to a large dimly lit room where three burly officers were sat in one corner at a small wooden desk, waiting with a computer open in front of them obviously relishing whatever it was they were looking at. My two guides had equally followed me into the room and stood now by the door. There was a considerable amount of noise coming up from the bustling street below. I felt extremely uncomfortable at my almost hopeless situation not knowing where I was and no one nearby to help or police to call, I started to tremble with fear and felt tears welling up in my eyes.

As we stood, I saw two or three men from the corridors below slip into the room and move to the back darker side. Several seconds later another three younger adolescents slipped in and went to sit on the floor at the back.

I was hot and shking watching the room slowly fill with chattering men and boys no women.

Then the man behind the desk asked for silence and spoke quietly explaining that the public tribunal was to come to order so proceedings could start.

He then turned to me:

“Sit down just here and let me have your passport”, that I handed quickly over to the guard closest to me trying to explain that Tom was coming to assist me, and we needed to wait for him. “Wait for Tom, I don’t think so young man. You are a very cute and pretty young man, and you are in very big trouble and unfortunately for you, there is no Tom or anybody else for that matter to help you. Now stand up come over here and empty your pockets on the table”, I stood and approached the table placing my keys and money on the table.

“Are you aware of the gravity of the charges against you here with regards to rude acts with another man and you being an expatriate in a foreign country where gay men are executed, you will get at least 10 years in prison for what we have seen from these photos.”  He handed me a wad of photos that Tom had taken the previous day. You might like to explain and while you do my colleagues and I need to confirm this is you in the pictures in front of us so just start by getting undressed down to your briefs and if you need help our friends behind you can assist……DO YOU UNDERSTAND?……..good now do it slowly…and pass me each item one by one as you are told starting with the shoes and socks…..”.
“move back one step, you two come closer and stand on either side of our handsome little prince…..”
“shoes on the table”,
“socks on the table O.K…..I think you are starting to understand”.

“Your shirt next, on the table like a good boy.” I felt so vulnerable and helpless, I pleaded again for some compassion begging to know what they wanted me for and fearing the worst.

“Just shut up and put your shorts on the desk in front of me.”

I let my shorts slip to the floor and stepped out of them and bent over to pick them up and place them in front of him. There was a stir from the now twenty or so spectators at the back.

“Now go and stand at the back of the room and don’t move until told”.

I moved slowly back to stand in the middle of the crowd that had gathered at the back of the room and stood awkwardly trying to find a place for my hands. I started by placing them behind my back and felt embarrassed and thought I should cover my sex then suddenly I felt my blood running hot and my skin cringing under the stare of this crowd and I realised just how small my little red briefs really were as the droplets of sweat ran down my body and accumulated on my sex pouch which now decided with a mind of its own to swell and show itself off. I closed my eyes and tried to think of something else but to no avail.

I pleaded quietly “please I have done nothing wrong, you can’t hold me like this I need to get back to my ship…. please Tom will explain everything to you….”.

“You’ve really not quite understood your predicament young man…….just stand quietly and let me explain.”

He pocketed the remainder of the money and then he bundled up all my things, threw everything into a metal oil barrel waste bin in the corner added some form of fuel and set light to it all while I watched on horrified and helpless watching my passport and clothes disappear in flames.

“You my fine friend have been trapped into slavery, do you understand what that means, no, of course you don’t. You no longer exist except through me and all my friends here.”

“Now slip off those lovely red briefs and put them on the bonfire. NOW!!”

I quickly obeyed and slipped off my briefs and approached the barrel and threw them into the blaze and now stood naked to the view of  total strangers with no hope of escape.

The curtain acting as a doorway was worn and dirty and hardly wide enough to cover the opening as I watched people moving up and down the stair way. A further ragged old man appears to have joined us as well but he’s not an officer and just seemed to float in and out.

The senior officer made a sign to the two guards one of whom moved closely behind me and the other who moved to the table and received whispered orders from his colleague then picked up a rag that he turned and tried to force into my mouth, I struggled briefly until being grasped firmly from behind and my nose clasped tightly to force my mouth open and the rag forced completely into my mouth. Impossible to swallow or saliva my tongue immobilised painfully at the base of the palette. I struggled vainly to fight myself free only to be held from both arms. The cord was drawn and tied firmly around my head to ensure it was totally impossible to even murmur. My hands were held still as I was forced to sit.

“Now you will, I hope, start to understand your situation….nod your head to confirm…..thank you my young Prince perhaps we can continue……”.
My guards released my arms as I acquiesced with a brief nod.
“Stand in front of me …..”
I stood and ran desperately for the way out fearing the worst but my guards were expecting that……
“No you obviously have still not understood…..and I will not tie your hands….you will do as you are told even if it takes all of our time and effort”.
“Bring me the cane we’ll quickly show this beauty we mean business”.

The officer pulls up a rickety chair from behind the desk to place it close to where I sat whilst a guard called out down the stairs for someone to bring the cane.
I feel his breathing close to me as he pulls his chair closer. His warm sweaty hand is placed just on the lower right thigh…..
“Just let’s look at each of these photos together, here you are completely naked with another man, here you are parading in ladies underwear tempting a Nigerian national to have sex with you, he has reported you to us and wants to see you put in prison, this is your cabin, we know and can prove it, you have persistently tried to seduce this man and last night you were caught red handed in the act of seducing him………the photos prove everything, what do you think members of the jury…..”. The answer from all those remaining in the room was unanimous. 
“So, the jury is unanimous you are condemned to serve us in all things for the rest of your life”.

“You do understand now what is happening to you, don’t you and you understand there is absolutely no point in resisting, you are now lost to all that you knew before you no longer exist, you belong to me and my friends, to resist will only bring you pain and frustration. I am going to show you exactly what I mean and will cane you once, very very hard, it will make you cringe in pain and you will never ever forget the pain inflicted, then you will sit, and we will watch each other for 4 minutes to reflect on your situation. After that I will take off your gag and allow you the possibility to do exactly as you are told……DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I AM TELLING YOU?” he squeezed tightly my thigh. Once again I confirmed with a nod dreading the coming instances of pain. 
A young boy, maybe eight or nine years old had returned with a 1m50 rod of three tresses of oiled paper bound together with electrical insulating tape that he handed directly the officer sat with me and asked if he could stay to watch, the officer agreed pushing him to one side.

He played for a little with his weapon thrashing it up and down in front of my eyes as I heard the whistling thrash pass my ears, my groin winching from fear and expectation.
“Now are you ready…?”.
I whimpered slowly starting to cry, dropping to my knees to beg lenience. My cause was hopeless I knew.

The officer laughed loudly and instructed all his four colleagues to assist in the operation to ensure the victim had nowhere to move and resigned to the sentence. Each took an arm or a thigh to immobilize me totally.
“Now you are held my little Prince show me you cannot move…. better than that fight to get free…. is this exciting your young pretty little balls….? Can you feel his heart beating faster….” His colleague rammed his hand up my thigh to grasp and twist my genitals.
“His heart is racing, and his balls are tight and shrunk…nowhere close to a hard on”, laughed his assistant. “Let me know if there is any reaction at all down there and hold him tight”. His warm fingers grasping my sex and genitals was good and reassuring somehow as I felt the blood flowing slowly to my loins. The other men’s grips on my arms and legs made it extremely difficult to move, although I did struggle as best I could to fight free and it was raising the adrenaline in my veins.

He stood back and tested his stroke length to the base of my spine just above the buttocks, two slight tappets to adjust for measure and then with a deep breath the whole weight of his body was thrown into the whip stoke as it hit, I felt my jaw bit down onto my gag and the excruciating pain rent through every nerve of my body as the rod seared into the flesh and released untold pain, I felt the surge of heat climb inexorably through my nerves to my eyes and started to cry and come close to fainting, my knees trembled and my weight dropped onto the arms supporting each of my limbs and the fist gripping my sex. After three long seconds I regained composure and the arms holding me loosened their grip as I was placed back on the chair in front of the desk.
“How was the reaction, any movement?”.
“This one is really good……his balls tightened in anticipation and rose to the scrotum…..his cock during the anticipation of the stroke swelled slightly and the head hardened surprisingly quickly…..when the stroke was laid on, he jerked forward and his cock went rock hard almost instantly the surge of blood was amazing, you could feel the rush and pumping at a maximum….as the pain went through him you could feel the quiver and the blood draining from his cock as he collapsed…….and he is wet with precum…..the balls pounding to produce……she is a beauty and I think a real prize…..”, he smiled and laughed to his colleagues.
“Then no problem getting a good price for this slut, lets make sure we take care of him and make him into the tool we need” .

The longest four minutes I had ever witnessed now started.
The pain was still searing through my body hindering my reflection of the situation I found myself in. By now it must be at least 9h30. My naked legs were quivering, and my feet were hurting from the sharp concrete floor that had never been finished.
The other occupants had withdrawn to one corner to whisper between them before continuing evidently no longer fearing my attempt to escape and I felt not the slightest inkling to renew my recent painful experience. Instead, I tried to imagine what was to be my fate with these people.

The ship would not worry about me before my watch time and I had left the ship without letting anyone know where I was going, my family and friends would be totally helpless to assist so far away from home, in a country that was abandoned to itself in a lawless chaos out of anybody’s control and who really would care. I should just resign myself and see what happens I could imagine no other option.

My guards appeared now to be convinced that I was going to cooperate and sought confirmation as they approached together. 
“We are going to release you now and you are going to not only cooperate young Prince but you are going to do exactly as you are instructed by any one of us at any time and in any place without hesitation and with total devotion, your body, mind and soul belongs to each one of us……have you understood ?”.
I nodded slowly and deliberately in agreement.

“When you are not being used you will stand in the corner back to the wall legs apart and hands behind your neck. Understood.?” I nodded obediently. I was given a woman’s blue shirt type dress and white lace knickers to put on which hardly covered my torso just down to the level of my buttocks and showed clearly below the shirt line. The obvious intention being to excite my new owners.

His hands passed slowly behind my head to release the gag that was giving me so much discomfort, the air rushed into my mouth and throat filling my lungs and I felt newly released to move and feel free, that feeling was to be short lived.
“You will not say one word or in any way intimate disagreement or disgust at what you will be obliged to do at any moment……you will nod your head to confirm”. 
I nodded slowly to each of my captors’ one after the other. Each guard moved opposite me in order to look me straight in the eye as I nodded confirmation. My whole life seemed to stop at each instant I acknowledged their individual slavery. The word was now firmly anchored in my mind’s eye as my fate became more evident with each second that passed.

“right let’s have you standing back to the wall facing all of us…..NOW”, my mind was not quick to respond but I stood to move and obey the order given as I felt the tip of the cane whip out to strike my right upper arm with an unexpected force that surprise me and ripped into my nerves causing me to yelp loudly as I moved more quickly across the room to place my back to the wall. 
“I heard you yelp like a puppy…..I’m not convinced you have understood quite perfectly what is required of a little slut slave like you……”.
The cane came down again on my right shoulder with less force but equal pain and I very quickly align my back to the wall, I was truly starting to understand very, very quickly and painfully.
My back to the wall I listened attentively for the next order, my whole body shaking from fear.

The dominant guard seeing me tremble approached me slowly and pressed his mouth to my ear.
“CROUCH……STAND……CROUCH…..STAND….”. He continued as I dropped instantly to my heels and stood instantly as instructed.
“Now I think we are starting to understand my beautiful Prince, such a fine face and features, a slight beard forcing its way through, so young and fresh…..you are going to give my friends and I a great deal of fun and satisfaction training you before you rejoin your new master…..you are worth a great deal of money to us as soon as we get you broken and educated correctly and learning how to obey without question in all and any circumstances….. Your body and mind must be totally dominated and relinquish all forms of independence and resistance whatever the physical and mental cost to you”.

 

“Face the wall…. spread-eagled…..good this could be easier than we thought my friends….anyone like to start?”

There was silence for a short instance before a deeper voice barked out “face front” I saw he had recuperated the cane and appeared ready to use it. “Step forward…….” My body relaxing a little now as the movements reduced the tension, I stepped briskly forward and saw the guard lifting the cane to my cheek sliding its tip slowly down over my lips to the first button on my shirt “OPEN…..with one hand……” the whip spat out at my left hand forcing me to withdraw it sharply as the pain lingered the cane then slip to rest on the next button resisting its descent “OPEN…..OPEN……OPEN…..” until the shirt was totally open to the waist, using his cane the shirt was pushed slowly wider and wider until my nipples showed clearly and accessible, the shirt was pushed over the shoulders to drop to the floor. My torso was now naked and white as the cane sketched curves across and around the two tiny pert little nipples that were so evidently virgin from any form of previous abuse.

The sharp spurs of the cane were rubbing the nipples to erection as another guard manoeuvred behind me to access my nipples with his rough hands to pinch them sharply between his thumbs and fore fingers the pain was deliciously stinging and sent a tingle directly to my groin as I began to feel a sudden unexpected surge of excitement well up inside me, my whole body squirmed as I sank to try to escape the grip, the cane rectified immediately my squirms as it came down sharply across my upper thighs, keeping my hands and body rigidly still was proving to be extremely difficult but I must resist.

“your nipples are far too small we need to see them grow ten fold over the next four days before we can ship you out so lets start now……bring over the suction pads and clamps”.
“shall we work him standing or lying down …..I think lying down is going to be more practical so lie him across the desk…….”.

They had destroyed all that remained of my previous life, I was alone and helpless a slave to someone else’s destiny, I could not help but be totally overwhelmed by despair and broke into tears.

“SO OUR LITTLE PRINCE IS A WIMP…….give me my cane”.
The first stoke hit me fairly across the back and again over the shoulder, I wretched to avoid the next stroke that hit across the back of the thighs and again a second stroke. My body was in excruciating pain reeling from his powerful attack. I stood immediately ignoring my despair and the pain waiting for the next order which was not late in coming.
“BACK TO THE WALL bitch.”.

My erection had disappeared under the onslaught.
“you need to learn a thing or two…. like enjoying a whipping and finding it erotic….you will learn my Prince”. He whispered in my ear.
“Now you will place your back flat to the wall, arms stretched towards the ceiling and hands joined flat together……nice…..now drop your head and stretch your arms upward….good now we are starting to understand….stay like that until I tell you to move”.
He stepped away dragging the cane across the dust ridden floor, turned and raised the cane to my armpit, the end of the cane was quivering slightly against the tender underarm hair…

“I told you to stretch those arms …”, the quivering cane changed to a shorter sharper stroke, the cane was being slowly drawn across the chest down over the strained muscles of the abdomen to the belly button and pushed to force my back flat against the wall.
The cane fell slightly as I stretched further and drew breath. Now its jagged points were caught on the fine white tissue of my tight knickers, the guard pushed the point into the tissue and pubic hair beneath and twisted and turned the cane to draw the fine material together then with a jerk yanked the cane away tearing a full section away and hanging from a torn strip. Dragging the cane downward continue to tear and strip the last remaining meagre remnants of clothing off my body. As I stepped out of the tattered remains of underwear that were hooked to the end of the cane rose steadily against the inside on my leg coming to a halt at the crotch, pushing backwards and forwards between testicles and thigh.

My muscles and legs trembled from the stretching as the four other guards now moved closer to surround my naked sweating and trembling body each obviously enjoying the view of my state of total submission, two hands fell on each shoulder pinning to the wall, my hands still stretching to the ceiling, from either side my buttocks were pushed to the wall. The work started on my nipples, pulling twisting pinching rubbing and sucking expertly drawing out the erect nipples to a maximum. In my groin pubic hairs were being combed, groomed and plucked one after the other. The pummelling seemed interminable as hands were assailing my body from all sides neglecting no square inch of the pubic zone and surrounding the genitals, the pain was not difficult to support burning slightly after each tuft was yanked from its roots, the nipples were even numbed now and sore with extreme sensitivity at each renewed assault causing me to try and squirm away from the attack resistance was proving impossible and the mind resolved itself to inevitable resignation.

The hands were moving around to draw from the hair between the cheeks considerably more sensitive once the apparent depilation was complete the guards withdrew gradually the last hands lingering for a final verification of cock and balls my initial position resumed and stretch in place.

My whole body felt sore and burnt.
“That looks better already, it’s down to you to ensure it stays that way…. now back in place”, the cane dropped again tracing a welt straight across my left hip with a searing pain I had almost forgotten, stretching was all the more difficult as I stood on the tip of my toes to emphasise the stretch. 
“Move forward one step at a time my cane will correct any errors in comportment, make sure you stay in line one foot behind the other in steps of 15 to 20 cms, remain stretched with hands above your head, we need to see your butt tight and tense, I will let you know hard enough if its not”,

I pushed my way off the wall with my butt and raised my left foot to make a step forward and already the cane was at work stroking the inside of my calf to guide the foot around in a full half circle and back into line, a sharp upward stroke at my balls crippling any possible movement and causing me to drop from the stretched position, this one slip caused a further rain of three strokes to the hip, thigh and calf.
“Back to the wall you stupid cunt, you’ve understood nothing at all…..shall we try again”.

My positive nod was instant…..the guard stroked the floor to indicate for me to restart, he stood beside me placing his hand directly on my left buttock, clasping softly and stroking up and down guiding my steps forward with his cane in the dust. From his position his cane was moving up between my legs to the top inside thigh where he used it to position the legs during the last step.

“You need to get that neat little ass of yours tighter, tense the muscles….”, trying to tense the muscles of both cheeks needed concentration but the flat handed slaps from my master helped me to focus.
With one hand on my left cheek he slid his right hand to my balls and gripped them tightly around the sack within the forefinger and thumb, this uncovered the dicks head gland and tightened the ball sack, his grip tightened further. The left hand spread across the cheek and the index was searching out the ass hole, as he came closer his grip tightened on the balls.

“OK you were right this bitch is good, he reacts well to everything and is real sensitive….an artist……well done you guys for finding him….”. His hand moved then to confirm the same reaction from a sharp squeeze of the nipples.

“Last things we need to clear for today is ass hole penetration and final markings for the slave trade…. and also we need to see him cum and quantities for productivity, we should be done before night fall”.

“Nice tight little ass for the moment but we will soon change that, we need some cum to grease up a little, go and lean over the desk”, he barked and slapped my cheek, “you guys need to get over here and jerk off on his little butt, grease up and fist, understood….”.

“My little prince this is going to be a tough time for you, should take a few hours, you guys will have to take it in turns until we get what we’re looking for”.

The little boy, who had been watching all this from the side was called over and asked if he would like to milk the slut and grease his ass. Before we all settle down to work. The boy agreed eagerly and moved to where I was standing and told me to kneel and spread my legs. The officer perfected my position with the help of his cane, lowering my head to the floor nose and forehead to the ground and chest as low as possible. Ass high in the air and back and rump perfectly curved, knees spread 50cms and finally arms stretched out front and palms to the ground.

The boy kneeled behind me and grasped firmly my erect cock and very, very slowly started to use both hands to draw back my foreskin to its very limit and beyond, then massaging the bell head to spread the pre cum.

The position was not too uncomfortable but the concrete floor hurt my knees and keeping my ass up to height was difficult and my new little client was turning out to be a real sadist massaging my balls with his fingertips, drawing back my foreskin further and further, squeezing and drawing the bellhead and fingering the urethra seeking out my cum from its hiding place.

After a short while he brought me to a superb orgasm that he collected in  his hand and wiped the final drops before rubbing it all into my tight little ass.

“Slut over the desk, stretch out and spread your legs”.

“You guys know the routine, we work it with fingers and hands first, well greased with cum we stretch and dilate, then we penetrate and finally fist……you two start for the first hour.

I was in place over the desk and legs spread and my first two guards were already fingering and massaging my hole from either side, each trying to gain access and stretching and pulling my tender cheeks. I grasped the edge of the desk to maintain my position feeling their fingers penetrating deeper and deeper massaging in and out and around in regular movements. It felt good whilst is was well lubricated with what smelt like cooking oil brought up from the street below.

The other guards had left now leaving me with my two friends and what seemed to a constant coming and going of different spectators or interested parties enjoying the show.

The real old shabbily dressed peasant took advantage to get his hands on my cock for a quick pump and massage.

By the end of their 1 hour session my ass hole felt tight and stretched and the guys could already get two fingers in each and still massage and stretch. It was my cock that felt sore from the old man’s massage.

The other two guards returned from their rest period and relieved the others.

These two were harsher and had me walk around the room several times and once even down the stairs to the courtyard where passers-by stared in curiosity.

Once again bent over the bench and my two new guards were a good deal more aggressive at dilating my hole, forcing two three then four fingers in from each side pouring in more oil and massaging deeper and deeper. It was painful initially but after 10 minutes I became accustomed to the massage and even started to accept and enjoy it.

This session went on for what seemed about two hours when the boy brought me some fish on a stick for me to eat that was very spicy but was all the same very welcome and a plastic bag full of water to drink. Curiously he kept the stick that I was to find out later was to be used to torture my cock to great effect.

It was a bottle of Star beer that was to be used as the dimension standard for my asshole and my nipples were to be grown to the size of large peanuts.

The head man returned just before dusk to appraise progress and he overall seemed satisfied with my general condition, although I felt sore all over and exhausted, I paraded back and forth before the boss and was to be prepared for the night. That meant a cold shower in the courtyard downstairs then steel collar and heavy 30mts chain attached to a hook in the corridor.

My nipples were to be given suction pods to be left on overnight and a 5kgs weight attached to balls and cock and last of all a butt plug the size of a smooth rubber tennis ball, attached to a hook and string. My hands were attached with steel manacles to my collar, and if considered necessary a gag was left on the floor.

The old man who had been with us most of the day was to be the night watchman, that prospect really didn’t give me much confidence but I wasn’t about to complain.

I was to sleep on a small worn-out dense foam mattress about 40cms wide and 1m50 in length and it smelt strongly of chloroform and as a cover I was given a simple sheet of cloth that also smelt of chloroform.

As the day light faded at six in the evening the others started to leave giving me a last-minute slap or a wave as they went out.

The watchman settled down in the opposite corner with a candle and petrol stove sat on a makeshift stool made from a wooden box. I too settled to try and sleep as I cried myself into a light doze.

I was disturbed some time later by the old man stroking my cock into action with some gentle fingertip massage, my cover had  been taken off, it must have been quite late, and I was a willing participant until the old man brought in two other men from the dark corridor, who I quickly recognised from their voices as my driver and his brother, and they had obviously paid off the watchman and they were not here to help me to escape.

They both crouched in front of me gloating as I sat up, “Sir is looking good, but I don’t understand Sir has no clothes on. Hmmm naked as a baby, I like you so much like that Sir.” They both laughed out loud.

“So now Sir, as you’re not doing anything important right now, we think that just perhaps, you might need to suck my cock again. Hmm…  What do you think Sir?”

I made no reply but felt quite excited at the thought of sucking his cock again. My whole body hurt but my mouth somehow longed for his beautiful cock.

Except for a flicker of light in the corner of the room it was pitch dark. I sat up with my back to the wall and spread my legs, I was not going to resist, how could I and why. The blood was rushing to my loins and my cock was bouncing into a strong erection in anticipation, and the old watchman had not failed to notice. The driver had stayed close to me and the watchman while his brother had moved away out of view, but I heard him getting undressed in the far corner. The 5kgs weight on my balls were a hindrance to my movement but I could at least make myself a little more comfortable and adjust my seated position. My hands attached to my collar was the most awkward restraint leaving no support to sit up straight but the old man helped me to get into position and draw back my foreskin while he was there.

“Sir is so kind and ready now, come brother fuck Sirs face good and proper.”

Each man was placed on either side and had a hand on my thighs balls or cock while the brother was now stood in front of me with his large cock dangling limply before my lips. I raised my manacled hands that had just enough freedom to reach his cock, to lift its tip to my lips and gently withdraw its foreskin, the scent of his precum filled my head and I could feel his erection bursting into life. My lips opened over his tasty bell head, I had to open my mouth wide to get it all in, then he started to put his full weight behind it with a loud grunt and he was at the entrance to my throat. I managed with pressure on his cock and balls to get him to withdraw sufficiently to get my tongue into his urethra and foreskin to excite him to a climax before he thrust himself and his cum to the depth of my gullet. He trembled from pleasure as his ejaculation shot into the depths of my throat. As he pulls out I held back his cock to finish correctly and clean up the very last drops. I was pleased with my work and had enjoyed it and he had as well judging from the smirk on his face. He walked away to get dressed I supposed then revised and came back for me to suck a few more times.

Then his stupid brother had the brilliant idea of selling my services from the corridor, only the watchman was a bit doubtful as he was supposed to be looking after me, but he was quickly convinced by the possibility of making a bit of cash.

The old man helped me to my feet and walked me out into the small corridor the 5kgs forged weight hanging by a sisal string tied tightly around my balls and about 30cms long hung down between my knees swinging back and forth, more cumbersome than painful really, but designed mainly to stop me from running away, I think. My chain allowed me about a 30m length of lead just enough to pee or shit outside. A meagre light was found to place next to me and I was left to stand there while the two younger men went off to find clients. It was early morning I gathered and there was still a lot of activity in the area with small bars and taverns and I heard some people talking and moving around in the building. The old man stayed crouched beside me comforting me with a stroke on the ass and thigh or by making my life a misery by maliciously torturing my cock with the wooden fish skewer he had picked up, using it to poke and hit the exposed bellhead of my cock to keep it alive and erect. The stick is sharp and very pointed about 25 cms long and about the same thickness as a pencil and he would constantly poke my tightly tied balls or all along my cock and then finish off by striking sharply the very tip. I begged him to stop but he would just laugh and continue harder.

I was so relieved when one of our drivers returned with some clients, the driver was leading what appeared to be two middle aged men, one of whom was very fat and the other very thin.

They stopped in front of me to inspect the merchandise and then started to negotiate the service and the price at 1000NGN the treat for a blow job or 500 NGN the hand job and facial cream pie.

My driver friend drove a hard bargain and won over and fixing the tariff for the night.

The fat man and I, helped by the little old watchman, shuffled around the corner behind the curtain and I sucked the fat man’s small rigid penis but it was a long difficult process getting my head into position under his large belly then trying to find something to suck on wasn’t easy but with the watchman’s sadistic encouragement with his pointed stick still jabbing and tapping my balls and cock while I’m crouching and finally lying down in order to allow him to sit on my face and leave my legs wide open to assault.

The fat man finished and walked out, I and the watchman remained where we were on my small foam bed. The tall thin man took his turn with his long thin cock he penetrated deep into my throat and gave long slow movements that I enjoyed, and he climaxed quickly and violently after several minutes. Thankfully the watchman had decided to put his stick down and was busy wanking his cock all over my leg.

I rested a while before new customers arrived and by sunrise, I had seen 14 diverse types of cock and swallowed a pint of cum.

I managed to sleep for about an hour before the watchman woke me again with a mug of sweet coffee and a biscuit and getting me to piss in a bucket, I didn’t feel like a shit. He washed me down with a wet flannel and I lay for another hour or so before the headman turned up on his own, he was apparently quite happy as he had found a buyer for me at a good rate provided, he could get me to him before 6pm that day.

I had apparently been sold to a ship delivering cement to Nigeria that was now part of an enormous waiting list to offload. Some 70 boats were now at anchor off Lagos Apapa port.

The traffickers got a good price for me apparently $5000, and I was to join a Panamanian registered ship that belonged to a Nigerian bandit with a reputation for human trafficking.

My role I understood was to work in the engine room and keep the 15-man African crew “happy”.  I was to be transported that morning by dinghy from an Apapa private jetty and it was of course my favourite drivers that were to take me there.

My butt plug was taken out my ass wiped down and the chain was detached from my collar The drivers arrived and I was gagged and my head covered with an old cement bag and lead downstairs to the taxi. For once it was silence during the drive and after an hour’s drive I was walked across a beach and handed over to two others and put into a small wooden boat with an outboard motor. I remember the ride took about 2 hours across choppy seas and I was regularly sprayed by waves breaking over the bow.

We arrived alongside the rusty old junk ship and the bag over my head was removed and the chain from the manacles on my wrists was detached from my collar. The weather was tropical of course but I felt a chill run through my naked body as I climbed the gang plank alone and the boat that had brought me pulled away with the two men.

I climbed the rickety broken gangway which was dangerous in itself with steps missing and handrails broken and dangling with the sway of the sea, I envisaged throwing my self to my death but quickly pushed that idea to the back of my mind.

There wasn’t a soul about on this dirty rusty old wreck just waiting to sink. I didn’t know where to go, perhaps the officers’ quarters where I was used to or in my condition perhaps aft to the crews’ quarters. As I tried to decide a tall young muscular man came out of rear aft deck and walked towards me. He was taller than me with a pair of torn and worn shorts that clung tightly to his body showing his very well endowed masculinity and he wore oily flip flops on his feet. He was ruggedly handsome jet black skin colour very large flat nostrils and thick large pulpous lips a slightly prominent lower jaw that showed his bright white teeth and he had 2 large tribal scars across both sides of his face and he was carrying a rope lead.

 He wasted no time with niceties just gave me a look over from head to toe then hooked his lead to my collar and took me aft with him.

We entered his cabin and he locked the door behind him.

Dale didn’t look back as Michael walked towards the wet room, his ass had been burning all day, and he wanted, no he needed a hard workout bad.  And as he walked down the dimly lit corridor clad only in his black jock with the deep red strip, black boots, and his thick leather harness with a wide metal cock ring that was wrapped tightly around his ballooning cock, and smooth hairless balls his cock grew steadily harder.   

His cock quickly became rigid as the various sounds of the fisting room filter into his ears.  And when he turned the corner into the room he could no longer control his orgasm as his cock jerked several times uncontrollably; causing his jock to fill with cum.  He didn’t actually have on full on orgasm, just a slight stimulation emission.  

The Fisting/sling room was set up like a military barracks.  It was a long and narrow room with slings and fisting benches set up along each side.  The lighting was dim but adequate to see.    Each station was set up with all the supplies you would need to get your ass manipulated and destroyed in any way you could handle. 

Dale stood in the doorway taking in all the sexual action.   Several of the benches were occupied by couples is various stages of fist penetration, as were the slings.   The sounds of loud deep throated male grunts, moans, and cries of painful pleasure filled the air as their asses got plowed and punched by their fisting and fucking partners.  All this action made Dale exhale deeply with great hunger and…..

The bulky arm came across his neck as a blur and grabbed the base of Dales’ harness before his mind could register what was happening.   His reaction was out of his control as someone wrenched him up by his balls.   He was powerless as his feet lifted slightly off the floor and as his body fell back against the man behind him.

His back hit hard against the tight, solid, smooth chest with a prominent thud.  His pronounced pecks crushed into Dales’ back.  He could feel the man’s nipples and the rings attached as the pressed hard into him.  And when he jerked Dale up again, he could feel a massive rod of flesh against his exposed ass as the man’s hard cock pressed deeply inside the crack of Dale’s hot ass checks. 

Without a thought Dale pushed his ass against the mans rugged cock as he ran his hand up the man’s arm.   His skin was smooth but taught, the muscles were more pronounced as he slid further up the man’s forearm.  And when he reached his biceps, Dale actually cooed slightly as the massive muscle was bigger than Dale’s hand. 

The man swung Dale around by yanking on his balls again, now they were face to face.  Dale looked into the face of the man who was now controled him.   His features were dark, maybe Italian; hard, with a slight shadow of dark bearded stubble, and firm.  His eyes, though the light was dim, were a stunning pale blue, with a distinctive roman nose that adorned the man’s face.  

His hands pulled Dale’s head to his face, and they kissed hard, tongues and spit were exchanged as they both let their deep uncontrollable lust take hold of them.  Dale’s cock was hard and getting cramped inside his jock, all while still being hoisted up off his feet by his balls and the man’s grip on his harness and cock ring. 

Instantly the man’s hand cupped the back of Dale’s head, and he found his face deep in the slightly hairy arm pit of his sexual master.   The musk, rank smell of his pit sunk into Dale’s nose immediately causing his desire to hasten.  Dale hungrily licked the man’s pit, sucking in the manly aroma that was driving him crazy.   He worked his tongue up and down his hairy pit, licking every crevice his mouth could reach, savoring every ounce of the man’s sweat.

What Dale hadn’t realized was that while he was devouring the hunks arm pit, they had moved over to a leather weave sling.  Soon his back could feel the leather as the man pushed him up against the straps, but Dale was still nose deep licking the reek out of his arm pit. 

Without effort, the man picked Dale up with one jerk, and he fell back into the sling, as it swung to meet his bodies weight.  Dale being the pig he was had his feet high in the air with his legs open wide before the man could even think of grabbing his ankles.  

First his left, and then his right ankles were skillfully strapped into the stirrups and Dale ass was open and ready.  Which was good, because he immediately had a fat, hard, long cock deep up inside his ass within seconds.

“Oh fuck yea….fuck my pussy hard.”  Dale pleaded as the man slapped his face, as he thrust his full weight into him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper up Dale’s well cleaned out hole.   He grabbed onto Dale’s nipple clamps and pulled face up to his as a wad of warm spit landed in Dales mouth as he simultaneously drove his cock deeper inside Dales ass.

“UUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH  YEAAAA FUUUCCCCKKKK!”  Dale screamed as the fucker pushed hard dropping him back onto the sling, making the sling swing away, and then with a quick tug on the chain attached to his nipple clamps, Dale came swing back impaling him deeper onto the large, fat cock fucking his ass.    

Dale held on tight to the support chains that hung from the ceiling as his ass got punch-fucked hard.  Soon their rhythm was effortless as the sling and his hips fucked Dale in unison as he begged for it. Dale watched the guy, and his complete concentration on fucking Dale.   It was actually the first time Dale fully realized how fucking hot this guy was that had his cock so fucking deep inside his ass.   His chest was smooth, and tight, with pecs that were well defined.  His nipples were perfect, substantial and very pronounced especially with the large silver rings that hung from each. But Dale loved his arms, strong, hairless like the rest of his body, save his pubic area, and atoned with bulging muscles that flexed each time he would pull Dale back from his nipples onto his hard cock. 

Dale’s cock was also hard and tight inside his red striped jock, oozing large amounts of cum with each thrust.   He could feel his warm and slick cum coated balls being bounced around inside there protective case, as they were being pounded hard with each thump of this hunk’s hard cock.  

He worked Dale’s hole over well as his fat cock sank deeper and deeper inside Dale’s wet and loosening anal cavity, readying it for the real fucking workout that was due a fist pig like him.   He could feel his balls begin to boil as his cum build up inside them as he fucked Dale without mercy.   But he didn’t want to blow his load so soon, but he also couldn’t wait to plow both his fists deeper inside this hot stud that was strapped into the sling and attached to his massive cock.

Dale could feel the cock inside his ass begin to swell, and knew shortly that his ass would be finally filled with hot cum.  He loved the feeling when his ass was so full of man jizz, and hoped that before the night was over, he would have the opportunity for a last-minute gangbang of every hard cock in the club all releasing their hot loads inside his ass.   Then he would insert his bulbous butt plug, keeping all the studs’ juice inside him for the ride home.   Just the thought made Dale’s cock jump and again his cock jerked spilling cum out the piss slit inside his jock.

“Oh fuck” The guy cried as he plowed hard into Dale’s ass, slapping his balls against Dales bare ass.

“FUCK, FUCK, FUCKKKKKK….”  And Dale could feel his ass filling with warm cum as it spewed from the guys cock, coating the walls of his hole and filling his empty ass with his hot male sperm. 

Dale bucked hard against the cock that was deep inside his ass begging for all the jizz this guy’s balls could produce.   Wanting everything and more as his ass wrapped around the guy’s cock milking every drop of hot white cum from his low hanging junk.  

Exhausted, and fucked out, the guy fell onto Dale, his cock still wrapped deep in his ass, dripping the last of his jizz.  He kissed Dale again forcing a mouthful of spit down his throat.  The kiss was hard and forceful, shoving his spit covered tongue so deep into Dale’s throat making him gagged.   His cock was slowly drained of blood, and both could feel the once powerful tool retreating into itself, until he pulled it out of Dale’s ass completely.

Dales’ ass was loose but still puckered nicely once it released the cum coated cock from its lips.  The guy looked at his puffy, red wrinkled asshole as it spasmed a couple of times, showing it pushed out lips with the white remnant of his orgasm that still coated everything.  He could see a small amount of cum beginning to drool from Dale’s now used asshole.  

He couldn’t resist, his tongue darted out into the soft lips of Dale ass, licking the leaking cum that he had just shot inside him.  Dale loved the feeling of a good ass eating, so he pushed gainst the protruding tongue flaring his rose bud and draining the warm spunk from his ass cavity. 

He licked and sucked the emitting jizz for the freshly fucked asshole in front of him, drinking his thick cum hungrily until Dale’s ass was once again empty.  And with a mouth full of his own cum, he stood up over Dale and drained his jizz in a long stream directly into Dales open mouth.  And when he had shared his cum, he kissed Dale, both their tongue now covered in his spunk as they devoured each other through their mouths. 

While their deep, hard kiss continued, his right hand began to play with Dales relaxed hole.  4 fingers were now deep inside the warm crevice of Dales ass, as he moaned heavily wanting much, much more. 

Jax didn’t knock.

He never did. Not here.

The staff was long gone, the blinds pulled, the main shop dark. All that was left was low jazz drifting from the speakers and that faint scent of shea butter and clove that always lingered after Shawn had been working.

Jax walked through the back hallway like he owned the place—black hoodie, gold Cuban, dick already heavy in his sweats. He pushed open the door to the VIP suite and saw Shawn exactly where he expected him.

Down on one knee, hands resting on his thighs. No shirt, just smooth brown skin and a silver chain catching the glow of the sconces. His joggers were still on, but the outline of his dick was thick and visible. The man stayed ready.

Jax shut the door and let the silence do what it always did—speak for him.

“You been waitin’ long?” His voice came out low, rough from smoke and late-night bourbon.

Shawn looked up. Not timid. Never timid. Just calm. Submissive in posture, but solid in presence.

“Only ten minutes,” he said. “Figured you were cleaning up.”

“I was.” Jax peeled off his hoodie, revealing the sculpted weight of his chest and the ink that crept across his shoulders. “Kitchen was light tonight. Couple late resys, nothing serious.”

“You eat?”

“Not yet.”

Shawn smirked—just a little. “You hungry?”

Jax stepped forward and grabbed a handful of the back of his head, tilting it up. “Always.”

And then he dropped to his knees.

He didn’t start with his dick. Not tonight. Tonight, he wanted taste first. He gripped Shawn’s waistband and tugged the joggers down, revealing thick thighs and that jockstrap he liked—black, wide-banded, his ass framed perfectly in it like it was made to be handled.

“You wore this for me?” Jax growled, pushing Shawn back onto the velvet couch and spreading his legs wide.

Shawn breathed out. “Always for you.”

That did something to Jax’s chest. Tightened it. But he pushed it aside. Tonight wasn’t about feelings. It was about ownership.

Jax dropped his face between Shawn’s cheeks and went to work.

He licked slow. Deep. Messy. He spit, spread, sucked—nose buried, tongue sliding over every inch of Shawn’s hole like he hadn’t had it in weeks. Shawn groaned, fists clenching into the cushions, hips pushing back without hesitation.

“Fuck,” Shawn moaned, voice cracking. “You always eat it like you starvin’.”

“I am,” Jax muttered, not stopping. “Keep your legs open.”

He pushed two fingers in while he ate, curling them just right. The moan that came out of Shawn’s throat sounded like surrender. Raw. Real.

Jax pulled back just long enough to stand up and stroke his dick out—thick, veiny, leaking. It slapped heavy against Shawn’s cheek as he leaned in.

“You know what to do,” Jax said.

Shawn didn’t hesitate. He opened his mouth wide, lips stretched, tongue out. Jax fed it to him slow at first, then grabbed his head with both hands and started fucking his throat.

No mercy. Just slow strokes getting deeper, wetter, filthier. The sound of spit, breathing, and low jazz filled the room. Jax looked down, watching Shawn take every inch.

“You missed this?” he asked, hips rolling forward.

Shawn choked slightly, then pulled off, eyes glazed. “Yeah. I been leaking since yesterday. Thought about this shit all day.”

Jax grinned. “Good.”

He gripped his own base, slick with spit, and rubbed it over Shawn’s hole—but didn’t push in.

Not yet.

Instead, he reached down, stroked him slowly, and whispered, “You gonna cum just from me playin with it like this?”

Shawn nodded, panting.

“Say it.”

“I’m gonna nut just like this. Don’t even need to stroke myself.”

“Good boy,” Jax growled.

He kept teasing, deep strokes between Shawn’s cheeks, pressure just under the rim, rubbing that spot until Shawn’s whole body shook.

“Fuck… Jax—Jax—I’m about to—”

“Let it go.”

And just like that, Shawn exploded. Thick ropes shot up across his stomach, chest, and neck—his hole twitching, pulsing, leaking around nothing but Jax’s pressure. He collapsed back against the couch, breathing hard, legs still spread.

Jax leaned down, tongue flicking over the dripping mess, tasting his boy’s nut like it was earned. Then he kissed him—slow, filthy, dominant.

“You always this easy for me?” he whispered against his lips.

Shawn exhaled. “Only for you.”

Jax pulled his sweats back up and stood over him. “Next time, I’m fuckin’ you over that mirror.”

Shawn didn’t move. Just smirked up at him like he’d already be waiting.

The kitchen at Char & Smoke was silent except for the low hum of the fridge compressors and the steady rhythm of Jax’s chef knife against the board.

6:13 a.m.

He’d been here since 5:30. Didn’t need to be. Brunch wasn’t till 10. But he’d needed the silence—the routine—the control. Especially after what he did last night.

The edge of his blade slid clean through a slab of raw ribeye, slow and precise, just how he liked it. Marbling was perfect. Cut like velvet. Still, his hands felt tight.

He hadn’t jerked off this morning.

Didn’t need to.

Every time he thought about it—about Shawn’s thighs shaking, about the way that nut hit his own chest when Jax told him to let go—his dick would twitch in his sweats again. Heavy. Satisfied. Possessive.

He wiped the blade, then his brow. The prep line still smelled faintly of oakwood from last night’s char.

The back door swung open.

“Morning, Chef,” came a voice—Derrick, his GM. Early 30s, ex-Marine, ran the floor like a drill sergeant. Loyal. Sharp.

Jax gave a nod without looking up.

Derrick watched him work a minute. “You alright? You movin’ like you already halfway into dinner rush.”

“I’m fine,” Jax said flatly.

“You just… focused,” Derrick added, smirking. “That or you got laid last night.”

Jax didn’t pause the knife, but the tension in his forearm spiked just a beat too long.

Derrick laughed. “Aight. Say less.”

Jax finally looked up. “You check in with fish delivery yet?”

“Yeah. Salmon came clean. Oysters too.” Derrick raised a brow. “You want me to run the kitchen today?”

“I got it.”

“You sure?” He motioned around. “You usually don’t slice steak yourself unless you tryin’ to work something out.”

Jax stared at him for a beat, then said low, “I said I got it.”

Derrick raised his hands, backing off. “Bet. Just let me know if you need anything.”

The door closed behind him.

Jax exhaled.

He wiped his hands and pulled out his phone.

One unread message.

Shawn

Still leaking. You nasty for what you did to me.

Jax smirked. Rolled his tongue along his molars. That damn man.

He typed back:

You cleaned up? Or you still sittin’ in it like I told you to?

Three dots. Then:

Still sittin’.

Jax’s jaw clenched. His dick pressed against his waistband again, thick and aching.

He stared at the screen for a moment, then locked it and tossed the phone onto the steel prep counter.

Not today.

He had a full dining room to lead, food critics watching the brunch menu, and two private events on the books. No time to think about tight jockstraps soaked in his nut, or how that man tasted when he was begging for more.

Except… he was thinking about it.

And he couldn’t stop.

Because every time he wiped down a counter or leaned into a flame, he could still hear Shawn’s voice from last night:

“Only for you.”

That shit echoed.

Three years ago

Char & Smoke – Grand Opening Night

11:48 p.m.

The place was still buzzing.

The last of the VIP guests had just cleared out. Tables half-wiped. Champagne flutes scattered like afterthoughts. The air was thick with smoke, laughter, perfume, and pride.

Jax stood behind the bar in the private lounge—his lounge now—loosening his collar, top button undone. He hadn’t taken a single sip of the bourbon someone gifted him at the ribbon-cutting. He was still riding the high.

Ten years of grind. Seven of them silent. Four in culinary school by day, bar-backing by night. Another three selling plates out of his grandma’s house on 81st.

Now? Char & Smoke was real. His name on the door. Five-star buzz before the first Yelp review.

And the first person to show up?

Shawn.

Fresh cut. Tight gray blazer over a black tee. Gold watch. The kind of confidence that walked ahead of him and made people move. He didn’t have to say it, but Jax knew—he was proud.

Now, he was the only one left.

“You still workin’?” Shawn leaned against the side of the bar, sipping slowly. “Ain’t nobody left to impress, Chef.”

Jax smirked. “You still here.”

Shawn raised a brow. “I don’t count?”

Jax poured a neat shot of Uncle Nearest and slid it to him. Then one for himself.

They clinked. No words.

The silence between them had always said more.

Same block. Same high school. Same back-of-the-bus jokes. Same night they got caught stealing Black & Milds from the corner store—and the same ride back home from Jax’s grandma every Sunday.

Shawn had always been there. And tonight, Jax needed that.

“You good?” Shawn asked, softer now.

Jax nodded. “More than good.”

“You look it.” His voice dipped, eyes holding Jax’s just a beat too long. “Like you own the whole block.”

Jax looked down, smirked, shook his head.

But when he looked back up, Shawn was still staring.

Neither one of them moved.

The air shifted. Tightened. Got thick.

“You remember prom night?” Jax asked suddenly, voice rough.

Shawn blinked. “Where the fuck that come from?”

“You remember it or not?”

Shawn laughed, low. “I remember you wearin’ them busted-ass gators and still pullin’ a girl that wasn’t even from our school.”

Jax leaned forward. “I remember catchin’ you starin’ at me in the locker room after the game that week.”

Shawn went still.

A beat passed.

“You trippin’,” Shawn said—quiet, but his voice had changed. Throat dry.

“You ain’t deny it, though.”

Jax stepped out from behind the bar. Shawn didn’t back up.

Just stood there.

Waiting.

“I ain’t trippin’,” Jax said low. “But I been thinkin’ about something for a minute now. And I’m tired of thinkin’.”

Shawn swallowed, chest rising.

“What you thinkin’ about?”

Jax didn’t answer.

He kissed him.

Hard.

One hand to the back of Shawn’s neck, the other gripping his jaw. Their teeth clashed for half a second before Shawn groaned and grabbed the front of Jax’s shirt, pulling him closer, lips open, tongue slick and hungry.

They stumbled into the leather booth in the corner, still kissing, hands grabbing, shirts lifting.

“You sure?” Shawn asked between breaths.

Jax pulled his shirt over his head. “Nah. But I ain’t stoppin’.”

Shawn didn’t say another word.

Jax pushed him back, dropped to his knees, and pulled his pants down slow.

He didn’t expect it to taste this good.

Didn’t expect Shawn to gasp like that when he licked up the underside of his shaft and let his tongue drag across his balls.

Didn’t expect to enjoy hearing Shawn beg.

“Fuck… don’t stop… please—”

Didn’t expect his own dick to leak like it had a mind of its own just from hearing it.

He sucked him slow. Deep. Let Shawn buck his hips. Let him come with a raw groan that filled the booth like a prayer whispered through gritted teeth.

When it was over, Jax stood and wiped his mouth.

Shawn sat there, shirt halfway off, breathing hard, chest rising like he’d just finished a run.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked.

Jax leaned close.

“First course,” he said.

And walked away.

Shawn stood in front of his chair, clipper in one hand, spray bottle in the other—but his mind wasn’t here.

The aftershave in the air. The jazz on the speakers. The faint heat from the steam towel drawer. All of it felt too soft. Too warm. Too much like the way Jax’s breath had felt on his hole last night, tongue working like he was starving, fingers curling deep until Shawn came without touching himself.

Even now, standing here mid-fade on a client, his thighs still ached. His throat was sore. His jock was damp—still. And he was pissed at himself for liking it.

“You alright, boss?” one of the barbers asked, looking over.

Shawn blinked back into the room. “Yeah. Just thinkin’.”

He wasn’t thinkin’. He was remembering.

The way Jax had said it: “You always this easy for me?”

And the way he had answered: “Only for you.”

Shawn swallowed hard, trying to focus as he lined the man’s beard. One wrong move and he’d nick someone—but his own pulse was making his fingers shake.

Thirty minutes later, with the last cut out the door, he was in the back of the shop, wiping down the VIP suite. The scent of sex still lived in here. Faint. Faded. But real.

He reached under the counter to grab a fresh towel—and bumped into somebody.

“Damn,” he muttered, standing quick.

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

Tre.

New hire. Young. Tight fade. Arms tatted and thick. Shirt fitted too perfectly. Maybe 27, maybe 28. Smooth voice. Eyes like he knew he was cute.

“You always clean up solo like this?” Tre asked, voice dipping.

Shawn didn’t answer at first. Just folded the towel. “I like it a certain way.”

“Makes sense.” Tre leaned against the wall. “This place got your name all over it. Feels like you.”

Shawn raised a brow. “What’s that mean?”

Tre smirked. “Just sayin’. Strong. Clean. Masculine.”

The silence stretched.

Tre’s eyes dropped to Shawn’s waist. “You always walk like that?” he asked, tone slick.

Shawn tensed. “Like what?”

“Like somebody had you grippin’ sheets last night.”

Shawn let the towel drop.

“I got it from here,” he said flatly.

But Tre didn’t move. He took one step closer. Just one.

“You got somebody, boss?”

The question hung in the air. Too bold. Too dangerous.

Before Shawn could answer, his phone buzzed on the counter.

He glanced. And froze.

Jax:

Don’t nut today. And don’t let nobody touch you. You know better.

Shawn’s face burned.

Tre leaned over and glanced at the screen—just for a second too long.

Then he grinned. “Right. My bad.”

He walked out, slow. On purpose. Like he was letting it linger.

Shawn stood there, hard, aching, jaw clenched.

He snatched his phone and typed fast:

That lil’ mf just tried me. Didn’t touch him. But he saw the text.

Jax replied two seconds later.

Don’t nut. I’m dealing with you later.

9:17 p.m.

Shop closed. Lights off in the front. Shawn was in the VIP suite.

Door locked. Shirt off. Pants down. Plug in. Stroking slow.

His knees were spread wide on the couch, jockstrap pushed to the side, hole twitching around the slick black plug Jax told him to keep in. One hand stroked his thick shaft, leaking over his abs. The other gripped the base, trembling with restraint.

He moaned softly. Bit his lip.

Thought about Jax’s voice. That growl when he said, “You leak like you need to be owned.”

He sped up. Got close.

Didn’t hear the door.

Tre. Quiet. Back again. Said he forgot his watch. Saw Shawn’s car outside. Didn’t knock.

He pushed the door open just a crack.

And saw everything.

Shawn on the couch. Plug in. Stroking like he couldn’t breathe. Whispers of “Jax… fuck…” coming from his lips.

Tre froze.

Didn’t move. Didn’t say a word.

Just watched.

Eyes wide. Chest rising. Jaw clenched.

And then—he backed away. Quiet as he came. Left the door cracked. The energy in the room thick with something he shouldn’t have seen—but couldn’t forget.

10:12 p.m.

Shawn was still on the couch. Breathing heavy. Still hadn’t finished.

He couldn’t. Not after that.

Phone buzzed again.

Jax:

I’m coming to the shop tomorrow. Don’t clean up the couch. Don’t nut before I get there.

10:43 a.m.

Shawn sat in his car outside Crown & Steel, engine running, head leaned back against the seat. He stared at the last text from Jax.

Jax:

Can’t make it. Wife pulled the “we never go anywhere” card. Gala tonight. Handle the shop. I’ll deal with you tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Shawn exhaled hard, chest tight. His hole was still twitchy, plug still in like he was told. His jock was damp. And now he had to go through the whole day like this?

Jax hadn’t said he could nut. Which meant he couldn’t.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

The day dragged.

Every client felt like a delay. Every towel, razor, and neck strip was a distraction from the weight between his cheeks and the ache between his legs. Every step felt too slow, too exposed. He tried not to think about Jax’s tongue. Jax’s voice. Jax’s hands.

But when the last appointment left and the shop cleared out, the silence almost swallowed him.

He walked into the VIP suite, shut the door, and leaned back against it.

His hand went straight to his waistband.

But before he could touch himself—

Knock. Knock.

He froze.

“Yo, it’s Tre,” came the voice. Muffled, casual.

Shawn didn’t respond. Didn’t move.

“Just forgot my slides,” Tre added.

Shawn cursed under his breath and opened the door halfway. “They in the locker.”

Tre didn’t move.

He looked Shawn up and down—shirt off, sweats low, sweat on his neck.

“I ain’t here to play you,” Tre said. “But I saw you last night.”

Shawn went still.

“I ain’t mean to,” Tre continued, voice lower now. “But I saw the car. Came in quiet. You ain’t hear me.”

Shawn’s jaw tightened.

“I ain’t tell nobody,” Tre added. “Won’t, either.”

Silence.

Tre stepped back. “But… if you ever wanted someone to just watch… I’d sit quiet. Ain’t gotta touch nothin’. Just… I’d respect it.”

Shawn stared at him. Eyes hard. Mind racing.

He’d never messed with anybody he worked with. Had men try him before. Some bold, some discreet. He always shut it down.

But Tre? There was something about him.

Too calm. Too smooth. Too damn confident.

And his body—tall, cut, dark skin inked from shoulder to forearm, neck to hand, tattoos moving like shadows across his muscles when he shifted.

And Shawn was weak today.

Real weak.

His phone buzzed.

Jax:

Still got the plug in?

Shawn stared at the screen. Then at Tre.

Then back.

He typed fast:

Yeah. Still holding.

Jax replied:

Good. Don’t nut. But if you need help not touchin’ yourself… get creative.

Shawn swallowed hard.

Turned to Tre.

“One rule,” he said. “You can look. But you can’t touch.”

Tre stepped inside. Quiet. “Bet.”

Shawn laid back on the couch, sweat already building at his collarbone.

He peeled down his sweats slowly, jock still stretched across his hips, plug buried inside, glistening at the edge. His cock hung thick and leaking against his stomach.

He grabbed it and started stroking. Slow. Breathing shallow.

Tre sat in the leather chair near the mirror—legs spread wide, eyes locked in.

Shawn didn’t look at him. Just kept going. Plug shifting inside him, strokes getting faster.

He moaned low, jaw clenched. “Shit…”

Tre shifted. Adjusted.

Shawn glanced sideways—and caught it.

Tre’s dick.

Hard.

Huge.

Easily ten and a half inches, thick, dark, veins running up the shaft—and pierced. A silver ring curved through the head, glinting under the overhead light. He stroked it slow, steady. Eyes never left Shawn.

“You a freak,” Shawn muttered.

Tre smirked. “You lettin’ me watch.”

Neither spoke for a minute.

Just breath. Lube sounds. Stroking. Tension.

Tre’s eyes dropped to Shawn’s hole. The way the plug slid just a little with every stroke.

“You ever ride wit’ that still in?”

“Shut up,” Shawn hissed—but his voice cracked. He was too close.

Tre kept stroking. “You almost there?”

Shawn nodded. “I can’t…”

“You holdin’ it like a pro.”

Shawn squeezed his shaft hard, legs shaking, moaning as he tried to stop himself from cumming.

Then—

Click.

The door.

Jax.

Standing there in a black button-down, sleeves rolled. No expression.

Just stillness.

His eyes dropped to Shawn—plugged, leaking, panting—and then to Tre, stroking slowly with that pierced monster of a dick.

Shawn froze. Tre stopped too. Not guilty. Not smug. Just still.

Jax didn’t say a word.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t move—for a full five seconds.

Then he shut the door behind him.

Soft.

Final.

The door clicked shut with a sound that carried weight.

Jax stood just inside the VIP suite, eyes locked on the scene in front of him—Shawn on the couch, pants off, plug still in, jock twisted, dick leaking. And Tre, seated near the mirror, stroking a fully erect, thick 10.5-inch monster of a dick, pierced clean through the head. His hand had stopped moving—but the evidence of what he’d been doing was clear.

Neither of them spoke.

Jax didn’t either.

He stepped forward slowly. Calm. Quiet. No rush. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his black dress shirt, rolled each sleeve up to his elbows like he was preparing for a long, dirty job.

Then he looked directly at Tre.

“Stand up.”

Tre obeyed. No hesitation. His dick stood heavy, throbbing between his thighs.

“Put it away,” Jax said. “You ain’t earned the right to touch yourself in my presence.”

Tre froze—then tucked himself back in, carefully. Silently. Chest rising, gaze low.

Jax nodded toward the leather chair. “Sit. Stay quiet. Watch what happens when my boy forgets who the fuck owns him.”

Tre sat again. Slower this time. Respect settling into his posture.

Jax turned toward Shawn.

“You lettin’ employees see what’s mine now?”

Shawn swallowed. “I didn’t—he said he just wanted to watch.”

“And you said yes.”

Shawn didn’t answer.

Jax stepped in close, towering over him. “Get up.”

Shawn stood, shaking slightly. Jax walked behind him and grabbed his waistband, yanking the plug out in one slow, wet pull.

Shawn gasped. Nearly collapsed forward.

“Turn around,” Jax growled.

Shawn faced the couch.

“Hands on the cushion. Ass out.”

He obeyed.

Jax spit in his palm and stroked himself once. Then again. His cock was thick, full, pulsing. He lined up—then paused.

Looked back at Tre.

“You see how open he is for me? That’s not about sex. That’s submission. That’s trust.”

Tre nodded once, eyes wide, jaw tight.

“You ever had a man give you his whole body without askin’ questions?”

“No,” Tre admitted quietly.

“You ever deserved it?”

Tre said nothing.

Jax pressed in.

One long stroke. Then another.

Shawn moaned into the cushion. Loud. Needy.

Jax gripped his hips and leaned down, voice in his ear. “You think anyone else gets to see you like this?”

“No,” Shawn breathed.

“Say it louder.”

“No, sir.”

Tre shifted in the chair. His jaw clenched, but his hands stayed down—just like he was told.

Jax started to move. Deep. Steady. Slow strokes that pushed Shawn forward with every thrust. The room filled with the wet sound of skin on skin. Moans. Breaths. Pressure.

“You gonna cum without touching again?” Jax asked, voice rough.

“I—I’ll try.”

“You will. Because I’m gonna ruin you in front of him. Make him remember who the fuck you belong to.”

He reached around and gripped Shawn’s shaft, tight, stroking in rhythm with each deep thrust.

Shawn was shaking, eyes rolled back, mouth open.

“I’m gonna fill you so deep you’ll taste it. And he’s gonna watch every damn second.”

Tre didn’t blink. He sat still, hard again beneath his pants, breathing through his nose, watching like he was watching a lesson.

And maybe he was.

Shawn came first—no hands—nut shooting across the cushion, crying out into the room.

Jax came next. Deep. Rough. Buried inside. He didn’t pull out.

Just stayed there.

Breathing.

Sweat slicked down his back, his jaw tight, fingers digging into Shawn’s sides.

Then he slowly pulled out—cum dripping from Shawn’s hole.

He turned to Tre.

“You clean him up.”

Tre looked up—surprised. Silent.

“I said clean him up. With your tongue. Or you walk out now and never come back.”

Tre stood.

Walked over.

Dropped to his knees.

And leaned in.

Shawn woke up face-down, the plug still inside him, thighs sore, the sheets twisted around his waist like evidence.

He didn’t even remember Jax putting it back in.

What he did remember was the way Tre looked when he got on his knees.

Not greedy. Not slick.

Just… focused.

The ache between Shawn’s legs wasn’t just physical. It was mental. Emotional. A stretch in his chest that he couldn’t explain. Not guilt. Not pride. Just a deep pull like something inside him had been opened and hadn’t closed all the way yet.

The smell of sweat and cologne still lingered in the air. A faint line of dried nut trailed across his stomach. And still—still—his dick was hard.

He reached for it. Barely wrapped his fingers around the base.

His phone buzzed.

Jax:

Be ready tonight. No touching. No talking.

Shawn exhaled and let go.

At Crown & Steel, the vibe was different.

He didn’t say anything. Neither did Tre.

But the energy between them was thick.

Shawn noticed the way Tre stood straighter. Quieter. Still confident—but respectful. He didn’t stare. Didn’t flirt. Didn’t joke.

And that said more than words.

Tre walked past him once and said, low:

“Thanks for trusting me.”

Shawn paused—then nodded.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t explain.

He didn’t need to.

They both knew something had shifted.

The kitchen at Char & Smoke was dim, golden under the under-counter lights. Jax moved like he always did—precise, silent, powerful. Bare forearms, apron tied, a slow pour of Uncle Nearest in a thick glass.

Tre stood across from him. No phone. No words. Just ready.

“You know why I brought you here?” Jax asked, slicing limes.

Tre shook his head. “Not fully.”

“I saw the way you watched him. But I also saw you listen.”

He looked up. “You didn’t move without permission. You held it together. That’s rare.”

Tre said nothing. But his body spoke—shoulders squared, mouth firm.

“You got a powerful dick, but that don’t mean shit without control,” Jax said, voice quiet but firm. “You think dominance is about size, voice, stroke count. It’s not. It’s about what you don’t do.”

He set the knife down and stepped around the island. “It’s about what you hold back.”

Tre nodded slowly.

“If a sub trusts you with his body, you better know how to carry that shit like a king, not a boy.”

He reached out—briefly—fist tapping Tre’s chest once, solid. “This is where it starts.”

Tre’s eyes lit with something deeper than lust. Something like purpose.

Jax checked the time.

“Grab your bag,” he said. “We’re not done.”

10:13 p.m.

Hotel Coltrane

Room 1802

Tre stepped off the elevator in all black. Fresh tee, fitted jeans, his scent a subtle mix of oud and skin.

He knocked once.

Jax opened the door. Black crewneck. Nothing else.

Inside, the suite was low-lit. Candles on the table. Jazz humming from a speaker. One man—muscular, brown-skinned, kneeling on the rug. Naked. Plug in. Collar on.

Tre froze for half a second.

Jax leaned in close to his ear. “This one’s been waiting.”

Tre’s eyes moved over the submissive—calm posture, hole twitching, cock untouched but hard.

Jax stepped back and locked the door. “He’s yours tonight. Show me what you’ve learned.”

Tre walked in slowly.

The submissive looked up. “Sir…”

Tre said nothing.

He circled. Calm. Measured.

“You play by my rules tonight,” he finally said. Voice low. Steady. “No speaking unless I ask. No nut unless I say.”

The submissive nodded.

Tre removed his tee. His chest flexed, ink catching the candlelight. He pulled out his thick, pierced dick and let it hang—heavy, commanding. The air shifted.

From the corner, Jax sat in a leather chair. Silent. Watching.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

Just watched.

Tre pushed the submissive forward, laid him chest-down on the bed. Spread him wide. Fingers first. Then tongue. Then dick.

Long strokes. Deep breaths. Voice in the boy’s ear like velvet sandpaper.

“You take what I give. Nothing more.”

It was art. Controlled, dominant, intentional.

And Jax felt it.

Felt it so deep in his chest it dropped lower—into his gut, then to his dick.

He shifted in his seat, unzipped his pants, and—for the first time—wrapped his hand around himself while someone else did the dominating.

He stroked slow, watching Tre take command.

The way Tre held the sub’s neck. The way he paused mid-stroke to whisper directions. The way he denied him the nut. Then gave it. On his terms.

Jax came silently, jaw tight, breath locked in his chest. Cum spilled into his hand, still watching, still aroused by the control.

11:42 p.m.

Suite quiet. Submissive asleep in the other room.

Tre stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist. Jax was at the window, shirt back on, sipping water.

Tre spoke first. “Didn’t know you’d watch.”

Jax turned slowly. “Didn’t know I’d stroke.”

That made both of them laugh, but just for a second.

“You’re getting good,” Jax said, tone even.

Tre nodded, unsure how to respond.

“Not just sexually. Your voice. Your stillness. That’s what dominance is. Not performin’. Presence.”

Tre nodded again, more confidently now.

Jax stepped close, clapped a hand to his shoulder. “Stay close. You’re not just a student anymore. You’re becoming dangerous.”

He let go.

Tre’s eyes locked in. “Dangerous how?”

Jax smirked. “The kind of man who doesn’t need to raise his voice… to own a room.”

Footman

© Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

Bryson stretched his leg out towards me as I approached him, pressing his long athletic foot out straight in my direction, toes tense with anticipation. His lightly tanned skin shone like molded bronze as the firelight played over his features.

I stepped nearer to him cautiously, like a puppy testing out a new toy, but my brief reverie was cut short by a quick, giggly command from Tyler that shot out from the dark behind me.

“Kneel already. And Crawl”

Naked, in front of all these clothed boys, with my cock in a cage that prevented it from fully hardening and prevented me from jerking off unless those same boys let me, I figured I had very little dignity left to lose so I obeyed Tyler’s command and dropped to my knees and began to crawl.

It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar sensation. I’d been on my knees for these boys dozens, maybe even hundreds of times, but now there was something more authoritative to it. I wasn’t on my knees just because I wanted to, now I was on my knees because they’d told me to be. There was also the feeling of the rough grit under my hands and knees and the sense of exposure from doing all of this outdoors, something we’d never ventured into back in high school.

As I got closer to Bryson’s foot he started to wiggle his toes at me in what he must have believed was a gesture of invitation. Feet definitely weren’t my thing, and waggling his, long, slender digits in my face, though I appreciated the effort, wasn’t doing anything to make them more inviting. Nonetheless, I crawled closer, my face getting ever nearer to my target, a thin bead of sweat rolling down my forehead despite the relatively comfortable weather.

I made one final motion in Bryson’s direction and as soon as he saw that I was within striking distance, he planted both of his feet directly on my face, soles covering my eyes like a makeshift blindfold. I could hear the other boys laugh and the squeal of delight that Bryson emitted as soon as his feet made contact with my face.

“Yes, Bro!” Aiden cheered.

“Lick. Those. Feet.” Tyler chanted in echo.

Bryson didn’t waste any time, angling his right foot towards my mouth, toes first, he pried my mouth open bit by bit like he was jacking up a car to replace a tire, then slid as much of his foot into my mouth as he could. Blunt, messy, definitely no grace in the movement, but it got exactly the reaction he probably desired from the boys — whoops and snickers and even one “Damnnnn” from I don’t know who.

The taste of Bryson’s foot was unexpected. It tasted nothing like cock. It was a lot saltier, and the skin was a lot rougher and less forgiving. When a cock was in your mouth, there was always at least a little space left in the margins, some softness there that yielded to the confines of your limited space. Not so with a foot! It completely took over the space, forcing its way in, hard, unyielding, exploring my mouth like a jackhammer exploring concrete.

Between the forceful invasion of my skull, and the raw taste of Bryson’s foot, I’d barely had time to absorb the smell. It wasn’t like some legendary college foot stank, but there was definitely a pungent, bawdy scent to Bryson’s foot that both repelled me and drew me in. My cock, which up until now had sat silent in its cage, began to stir to life, betraying me in this moment of utter humiliation.

I tried not to focus on the growing feeling of lust surging in the cage, knowing that thinking about it would only make the hardon inevitable. I succeeded momentarily, sucking on Bryson’s toes happily to the praise of my audience, but Bryson got a rise out of me, and my cock, when he used his other foot to deliver a few light slaps to the side of my face. Although he seemed to be delivering punishment, he accompanied the light blows with the words, “Good boy,” and that was all it took. The two together had me rising like a rocket. I was on my way to another Tommy Tentpole.

From this? What was wrong with me?

I spent the next few minutes tasting every part of Bryson’s feet, the toes, the soles, the top, the bottom. He had me suck on each individual toe, one by one, lick the crevices between them, then go back in the reverse direction I’d just gone. All the while, the other dudes made comments of encouragement, not for me, but for Bryson or speculated about how good it’d feel when they got their turn to have a go at my mouth.

Indeed, it wasn’t long before the next guy, Aiden, demanded that he have his spin at foot service and Bryson sent me over Aiden’s way with a nudge of his foot to my side. My cock had risen to full mast by this point and as I turned sideways to crawl to my next meal, my arousal was finally exposed to the boys in the firelight.

Grant was the first to notice, and he didn’t let me off the hook for it.

“Looks like someone enjoyed licking your feet, Bryson,” he said.

Oh God, he noticed. Of course, he noticed.

Bryson’s interest piqued, “Is that so?” he responded. “We prolly shoulda had you doing more interesting stuff for us a long time ago then, huh?” he asked.

“Definitely looks that way.” Grant noted.

I tried to ignore their barbs as I descended on Aiden’s feet, less tanned than Bryson’s but just as big and intimidating. Aiden didn’t waste any time either. He grabbed me by the hair, bent his right leg at the knee and pulled my face into the sole of his foot. It was much sweatier than Bryson’s had been, and the scent was more intense as well. As I started to lick, without being told to, I took note of the flavour differences between his foot and Bryson’s as well. Where Bryson’s foot had been more salty and earthy, Aiden’s was more salty-sour, definitely more intense.

Was this what I had been reduced to now? Comparing the smell and taste of my friends’ feet?

Aiden was a lot more ‘encouraging’ about having his feet worshipped, participating in the process with his hands, directing the process like a boxing coach at the side of the ring:

“More tongue,” he’d say.

Or:

“That’s it, now lick up and down the soles, back and forth,” using his grip on the back of my scalp to show me exactly how he wanted it done.

Before long, and sooner than my cock wanted it to be, the service of Aiden’s feet was over, and I was ushered along to Connor’s left foot which he’d generously outstretched in my direction, ready for attention. Connor’s feet were slightly smaller than the two of the other men I’d serviced so far and they were dusted with a coating of light blonde hair in contrast to the other two who’d been entirely hairless, but Connor’s feet were by far the most masculine and muscular I’d seen so far. They radiated the same, “I’m the boss” energy that he had earlier that night at the dinner table, and despite myself, I was already hungry for a taste.

I didn’t like feet though. Feet grossed me out. Didn’t they? What. The. Fuck?

Connor was the gentlest of the boys so far. He let me worship his feet languidly, laying back, arms behind his head, doing nothing but smirk confidently as I smothered his feet with devotion and my spit. If it was possible, my cock seemed to get even harder from the way Connor sat back and enjoyed my service so calmly, almost without any acknowledgement except to move me from one foot to the other.

As I stared up at him, his brown eyes gave nothing away except that he was enjoying every moment of my reverence and much as I tried, I couldn’t keep his stare, his powerful gaze was just too much for me in that moment. Instead, I turned back to his beautiful feet and continued to tend to them adoringly with my mouth, hoping I might earn even a sliver of approval from this gorgeous, blonde man.

Had I just thought of his feet as.. beautiful? What was happening to me?

Grant was the next footman on my list and, as always, he was an eager beaver, clawing for my face with his feet as I crawled towards his rattan bucket chair. By now, the last of the sunlight had long since died out and all that remained was the light of the fire. In that light, Grant’s face looked particularly devilish — and handsome — his reddish-brown hair, thin lips and high cheekbones animated by the flickering fire light and his giddy smile.

Grant’s feet were the cleanest of the bunch so far. They definitely weren’t clean, there was the usual taste of salt and sweat and everything else, but there was also a sort of sweetness to them that I couldn’t quite explain. It also seemed like Grant took better care of his feet than the other boys did. Cream or pedicures or something, I didn’t know, but his feet were smooth and soft against my face and tongue.

My cock reached another level of hardness in its cage.

Those soft feet. So nice… Wait.. Who even are you, Tommy?

Tyler was the last to have a go at my mouth and he made sure to make a spectacle of it like always.

Standing up instead of sitting like all the rest of the boys, he had me kneel in an awkward position that took me a few commands to figure out. I eventually figured out what he wanted when he said, “Face down, ass up, like a porn video!”

At that point, I realized he wanted me with my head on the ground and my ass high up in the air. The erotic rush of servicing Grant’s feet began to subside and the humiliation from earlier in the night began to rise again as Tyler bent down to tilt my head sideways so my right cheek was pressed to the hard, concrete tiles of the patio.

Then, making sure everyone else was watching, Tyler used his left foot to hold my head down by placing it — not too gently — on the side of my cheek, and then offered the sole of his right foot to me to start licking.

In this position, I couldn’t really lick Tyler’s foot as effectively as I’d been able to with the other guys but even I knew this wasn’t about how well I got the job done. This was about putting on a show for the other dudes. Tyler wanted to demonstrate what he could do with me, show how much power he had over me and as I got going, even though I didn’t want it to be the case, my cock started to get hard again, like rock hard.

And Grant noticed.

Of course, Grant noticed.

“He’s loving that shit, Tyler!” he said.

“Of course he is,” Tyler responded. “He was probably hoping we’d do this stuff for years. Tommy is gonna have the best vacation of all of us, for sure, dudes!”

As he uttered the last words, he shifted feet, using his right now to pin my face down and giving me his left for licking. The other guys meanwhile offered only agreement to Tyler’s statement, which I wasn’t too sure about, but then again, I couldn’t deny that this shit was turning me on like crazy.

After a few more minutes of licking Tyler’s left foot, I felt the pressure on my face ease. I looked up to see Tyler standing there, looking down at me, a cocky smile fixed on his face. He stared at me like someone might stare at a mess they just made and were nonetheless really proud of, and maybe that’s exactly how I looked at the moment. I noticed something else then though, Tyler was groping himself gently through his pants and he was hard, or at least semi hard.

I couldn’t help but feel proud that I’d made that happen. That I’d done well with my ‘foot job’.

Tyler looked around the light of the fire pit, still feeling himself through the shorts, and spoke a few more words that would have me not just throbbing but leaking into my cage.

“So all that foot stuff has me hard, boys. Who else is in the mood for a blow job?”

As I righted myself and elevated myself to my knees, I didn’t need the boys to respond to know their answer.

Their eyes said it all.

Hungry.

Predatory.

All fixed on me.

---

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Broken Boundaries Gay Erotica

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Check out my other stories on GayDemon.

Moro sauntered into the changing room of the public swimming pool his youthful confidence and sexual allure palpable in the stale, chlorine-laden air. 

His short, muscular body glistened with water droplets as he casually glanced around, spotting the four old men seated on the wooden benches, towels wrapped haphazardly around their waists. They looked up, their eyes widened with curiosity and surprise at the brazen intrusion of this young stud into their space.

Moro, unfazed, slowly bent forward peeled off his swimsuit, revealing his ample uncut manhood that swung heavily between his legs, hinting at his developing  arousal. His skin was smooth, olive and recently shaved all over, a stark contrast to their wrinkled, age-spotted flesh. Each man’s eyes followed the movement of the swimsuit fabric as it revealed Moro’s taut buttocks and his sweet rosebud. 

The muscles flexed as he stepped out of the clinging material. His cock bobbed up, standing proud and erect as he provocatively stretched his arms over his head, showcasing his well-defined abs and chiseled chest. Moro was deliberately exposing himself, performing, making himself available.

One man looked over his shoulder, anticipating the arrival of another customer or a member of staff checking the changing area. 

The men exchanged glances, their own excitement growing as they watched the unexpected erotic spectacle unfold. One of them, the eldest of the group, with a thick white mustache and a belly that spoke of years of good living, cleared his throat. “Young man,” he said in a gruff but not unkindly voice, “You seem to have forgotten your manners. You’re putting on quite a show here.”

Moro smirked, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked at the four of them. “Maybe I’m just trying to make your day a little more interesting,” he purred in broken English learned in Athens. 

His voice, deep and resonant despite his short stature. He sauntered over to the cubicle where the eldest man sat, Moro’s movements deliberately seductive, his cock bobbing with each step. He enjoyed the way it felt to walk in public when you had an erection and were being watched.

The old man’s eyes focused on Moro, and his hand shook slightly as Moro approached “Well,” he said with a smile, “I can’t say I’m not intrigued.”

Moro slid the curtain fully open and stepped inside, closing the curtain firmly behind him. The other men watched, as they heard the sound of the old man’s deep, appreciative sigh. The tension in the room was thick, a silent symphony of anticipation.

In the confined space, Moro dropped to his knees. He took in the sight of the man’s semi-erect member, veins pulsing with the rush of blood, the head a shade of purple that spoke of his desire. Moro licked his lips and leaned in, his warm breath fanning over the sensitive skin. The old man’s cock twitched in response, growing harder as Moro’s full, pink lips wrapped around the tip.

The man groaned, his hands tangled in Moro’s dirty blond hair as the young man took him deeper into his mouth. Moro’s tongue swirled around the shaft, teasing the sensitive underside before he took him all the way in, his throat convulsing around the man’s girth. The sounds of wet, sloppy sucking fill the small space, muffled only by the old man’s gasps and moans of pleasure.

The other three men outside watched through the crack in the curtain which didn’t cover the whole entrance to the cubicle, their own arousal evident as they adjusted themselves on the bench. They’re unable to look away from the mesmerizing sight of youth and experience colliding in a passionate dance of lust. The old man’s hand tightened in Moro’s hair, guiding the rhythm, as he thrust his hips forward, pushing his cock deeper into the young man’s eager mouth.

Moro’s eyes watered slightly from the effort, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he used his free hand to cup the man’s heavy balls, gently massaging them as he continued to suck. The old man’s legs trembled, his toes curling with pleasure as he neared climax.

With a final, guttural groan, he released his load into Moro’s mouth, the young man swallowing every drop with a hungry, eager look in his eyes. As the man’s cock softened, Moro stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and smiling coyly. “Was that interesting enough for you, Sir?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Moro smiled widely, thrilled by the performance.

The old man could only nod, his chest heaving with exertion. Moro winked and exited the cubicle, leaving the curtain open, allowing the other three a view of his firm, muscular, masculine ass as he sashayed back towards the showers. The old men watched, entranced, as the water cascaded over Moro’s body, washing away any trace of an encounter.

The changing room was once again filled with the sound of the shower and heavy breathing, each man lost in his own fantasies of what might happen next with Moro. The boundaries of the mundane world had been shattered, and in this brief moment, they felt alive and young again.

Hi everyone this is prince with another sexual experience i hope you enjoy it . Please comment me to give motivation to write more… 

Disclaimer : story contains taboo, straight seduction,forced sex so soft hearted person stay away…

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In the bustling heart of Mumbai, in a quaint yet lively neighborhood, lived a man named Raj Patel. Raj was a sturdy, middle-aged man with a heart as vast as the Arabian Sea. His eyes, crinkling at the edges, were a map of his life’s journey—full of joy,, and the quiet resilience that came with raising a family in the throbbing metropolis. He was a simple man with simple dreams—a good life for his wife and his only son, Rohan.

Raj, with a robust physique that weighed in at 85 kg, was a picture of raw masculinity. His desi uncle-like features were accentuated by a thick moustache that curled upwards, framing a set of full, inviting lips that often broke into a warm smile. His body, a testament to his years of manual labor, was adorned with a soft, yet noticeable layer of hair that traced the contours of his muscular chest and arms, tapering into a happy trail that disappeared into the waistband of his trousers. His big, dark eyes held a gentle warmth that could melt the stoniest of hearts. His chest, a canvas of furry hair, was home to two prominent, puckered nipples that stood proudly amidst the thicket, hinting at the strength and virility that lay beneath. His deep belly button, a silent witness to the countless meals he had enjoyed with his loved ones, was like a gateway to his soul—a soul filled with love and the occasional pint of beer.

In stark contrast to his burly father, Rohan Patel was a slim young man, standing at a modest 5’10” with a body that was as soft and delicate as a freshly picked lotus flower. He had inherited his mother’s fair skin and fine features, which only served to make his emerald green eyes stand out even more. His cheekbones, high and sharp, lent an ethereal quality to his face, and his full, pink lips looked perpetually kissable. Rohan’s physique was the antithesis of his father’s; he was as lithe as a dancer, with a lean torso and long, slender limbs that seemed to defy the very essence of gravity. His smooth chest was a landscape of gentle curves and shallow valleys, untouched by the coarse embrace of body hair, and his nipples, small and sensitive, were like two shy blossoms waiting to be discovered. His stomach was flat and taut, a canvas yearning for the tender caress of a lover’s touch.

One particularly warm afternoon, Rohan found himself drawn to the sight of his coach, Mr. Sharma, who had removed his shirt after a long day of training. The coach’s body was a sculpture of sweat and toil, each muscle defined as if chiseled by the hands of a master artist. The sun kissed his bare chest, casting a golden glow over his dark skin. Rohan couldn’t help but stare, his eyes tracing the path of the coach’s chest hair as it narrowed down to a tantalizing “V” that pointed towards his waist. He felt a strange stirring in his loins, a sensation that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

On his way home from school, Rohan’s gaze often lingered on his neighbor, Uncle Ramesh, who was known for his penchant for gardening shirtless. The man’s torso was a tapestry of tanned flesh, each bulging muscle telling a story of his dedication to his plants and the sun. The way Uncle Ramesh’s chest hair glistened with beads of sweat made Rohan’s heart race, and he found himself imagining what it would be like to run his fingers through the thick, coarse mane. It was an odd fascination, one that he kept hidden behind the veil of innocence that still clung to him.

As the days passed, Rohan discovered that his attraction wasn’t limited to Mr. Sharma or Uncle Ramesh. He found himself staring at the shirtless priest at the local temple, whose body was a testament to a life of discipline and devotion. The priest’s chest, a landscape of scars and tattoos, was a canvas of spiritual fortitude that spoke to the burgeoning desires within Rohan’s own soul. The way the priest’s malas danced against his bare chest as he performed the aarti was mesmerizing, and Rohan felt a strange kinship with the man whose eyes seemed to hold the secrets of the universe.

In the quiet solitude of his room, Rohan would often find his gaze drifting to his uncle’s Instagram handle, where the man posted pictures of his sculpted physique with hashtags that spoke of strength and vitality. His uncle, a successful fitness model, was the epitome of what society deemed “manly,” yet Rohan couldn’t shake the feelings that arose when he saw those pictures. The way his uncle’s biceps flexed as he held a weight, the sweat glistening on his chiseled abs, and the proud jut of his pelvis—these were images that stirred something within him, something that made him feel alive and yet, utterly alone.

One fateful evening, after a particularly confusing day of grappling with his emotions, Rohan stumbled upon a magazine hidden beneath his father’s bed. The glossy pages contained images of men entwined in passionate embraces, their bodies as beautiful and varied as the flowers in Uncle Ramesh’s garden. With trembling hands, he leafed through the magazine, each page revealing a new aspect of his burgeoning sexuality. And there, in the centerfold, was a man with an erection so thick and so long that it made Rohan’s heart skip a beat. The man’s cock was 8 inches thick—just like Rohan had discovered his own was when he measured it in the privacy of his bathroom.

The revelation hit Rohan like a bolt of lightning—he was gay, and his attraction to men was as natural and unavoidable as the monsoon rains that drenched Mumbai every year. His body was telling him something that his mind had been too afraid to acknowledge—his heart yearned for the touch of another man, for the warmth of a male embrace that would make him feel whole.

One sweltering summer afternoon, as the sun blazed down on their little patch of paradise, Raj decided to cut the grass in the garden. Sweat glistened on his broad back as he worked tirelessly, pushing the mower back and forth with the rhythmic grace of a seasoned farmer. Rohan, who was studying under the shade of their mighty mango tree, couldn’t help but be distracted by the sight of his father’s muscles flexing with every movement. He watched as beads of sweat rolled down his dad’s spine, tracing the path of his hairy back, and his heart skipped a beat. Without realizing it, Rohan’s eyes had drifted down to the waistband of his father’s shorts, where the fabric was stretched tight against the curve of his firm ass.

Feeling the oppressive heat of the day, Raj finally decided to shed his shirt, revealing his hairy, sweaty torso to the world. His chest, a landscape of furry masculinity, heaved with every breath he took, and the sweat made his body glisten like a Greek god. Rohan’s eyes were drawn to the sight like a moth to a flame, his own body responding in ways that made him feel both excited and confused. His gaze lingered on the thick, dark hair that covered his father’s chest, tapering down to a trail that led into the shadow of his waistband. He felt something stir in his loins, a feeling that was both thrilling and terrifying.

Rohan’s mind raced with thoughts as he stared at his father’s body. He had never seen Raj in such a state of undress before, and the sight of his muscles, slick with sweat, was doing strange things to his own body. He tried to focus on his studies, but his eyes kept darting back to the man who had unknowingly become the object of his desire. The way the sweat beads clung to the hair on his chest, the way his abs rippled as he moved—it was all too much for Rohan to ignore. His heart hammered in his chest, and he felt his dick begin to harden in his pants.

The confusion washed over Rohan like the waves of the Mumbai shoreline during high tide. He had never felt this way about his dad before, but there was no denying the attraction that was bubbling to the surface. He bit his lip, trying to understand what was happening to him. Was it just the heat playing tricks on him? Or was there something more to his sudden fascination with the male form? The more he thought about it, the more he realized that it wasn’t just his father’s body that was causing his arousal—it was the very essence of masculinity that Raj embodied.

As the minutes ticked by, the heat grew unbearable, and the whir of the lawnmower grew distant. Rohan’s gaze remained glued to his father’s body, and he noticed the way the fabric of his shorts clung to his firm, round buttocks. His mind was racing, conjuring images that he had never allowed himself to think of before. He watched, almost in a trance, as Raj bent down to inspect the lawnmower, his shorts riding up and exposing his hairy ass crack. The sight of his dad’s tight, black asshole was like a trigger, and suddenly, all the pent-up emotions and desires that Rohan had been struggling to suppress came flooding out.

The world around Rohan grew hazy as he stared, entranced, at the exposed skin and the tantalizing crevice between his father’s cheeks. His breathing grew ragged, his chest heaving with every breath he took. He couldn’t believe what was happening to him—his own father had become an object of his sexual fantasies. But there was no denying the fire that was burning in his loins, a fire that grew hotter with every second that he stared. He felt his dick strain against the fabric of his trousers, begging for release.

Now unaware of his son’s gaze Raj bent down even lower to tinker with the lawnmower. The fabric of his shorts stretched taut, exposing even more of his plump, hairy ass. Rohan’s eyes were glued to the sight, his mind racing with thoughts that he had never dared to entertain. His hand, acting of its own accord, snaked into his pants and began to stroke the length of his hardening cock. The feeling was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body with every touch. He watched as a bead of sweat trickled down his father’s spine, following the curve of his ass and disappearing into the dark jungle of his crack.

The sound of the lawnmower stuttering to a halt jolted Rohan out of his daze. His hand was moving faster now, his strokes growing more erratic as his father’s exposed asshole filled his vision. He couldn’t believe it—he was jerking off while his dad was just a few meters away, oblivious to his son’s desperate need for release. The guilt and excitement mingled in a heady cocktail that only served to intensify the sensations. He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls growing unbearable.

Raj grunted as he bent down even further, his ass crack parting slightly to reveal the puckered star of his anus. It was a sight that sent Rohan spiraling over the edge. With a final, high-pitched moan that seemed to echo through the stillness of the afternoon, Rohan climaxed. His warm cum spurted into the fabric of his underwear, leaving a sticky stain that was a testament to his unbridled passion. His eyes never left his father’s exposed flesh, his mind reeling with the realization that he had just come while watching his dad.

Feeling the need to clean up and compose himself, Rohan slipped away from the tree, his legs wobbly with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He tiptoed into the house, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters, and made his way to the bathroom. The cool tiles of the floor felt heavenly against his fevered skin, and he took a deep breath before stepping into the shower. The water washed over him like a cleansing rain, washing away the sweat and guilt that clung to him like the Mumbai smog. He let the water cascade down his body, his eyes closing as he took in the sensation of the droplets caressing his skin.

Under the stream, his hands moved almost of their own accord, tracing the path that his eyes had taken only moments ago. He cupped his own ass cheeks, feeling the softness of his skin, the stark contrast to the roughness he had just been fantasizing about. His fingers found their way to his still-hard cock, and he began to stroke himself gently, the water acting as a lubricant. The memory of his father’s body washed over him, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper. And get out of the shower after cleaning up.

Days turned into weeks, and Rohan’s lust for his father grew stronger with every passing moment. He found himself sneaking glances at Raj whenever he could, his eyes lingering on the man’s broad shoulders and thick arms. Every time his dad would pass by him in the hallway, Rohan would inhale deeply, trying to catch a whiff of his musky scent. He found himself drawn to the laundry basket, where his father’s dirty underwear lay in a pile. The scent of his dad’s sweat was intoxicating, and he would often sneak into the basket when no one was looking, burying his face in the fabric and inhaling deeply. The feel of the damp, sticky material against his skin sent a thrill down his spine, and he knew that he was crossing a line that he might never be able to uncross.

One morning, as Raj was getting ready for work, Rohan took the opportunity to tiptoe into the bathroom. The sound of the shower running filled the room with the sweet sound of cascading water, and Rohan could see the steam billowing out from the slightly open door. His heart raced as he pushed the door open just a crack, revealing a sliver of his father’s naked body. Through the foggy glass, he could make out the outline of his dad’s muscular back, the water glistening on his skin. He watched, his eyes wide with desire, as the water trickled down his dad’s body, tracing the path of his spine before disappearing into the dense forest of his buttocks. He knew he should leave, that what he was doing was wrong, but his body was screaming for more.

Day by day, Rohan’s lust grew stronger. He found himself sneaking into the bathroom whenever his father took a shower, his eyes greedily devouring every inch of the man’s flesh. He would wait until the moment was just right, then slip in unnoticed, his heart hammering in his chest. He would stand there, his own cock throbbing in his pants, and watch his father wash his hairy chest, the water running down in rivulets to his navel. He longed to reach out and touch, to run his fingers through the coarse hair and feel the warmth of his dad’s skin against his own. The smell of the soap mingled with the scent of his dad’s body, creating an intoxicating bouquet that made Rohan’s head spin.

Months passed, and the festival season arrived. It was during this time that Roshan’s mom went to her father’s home, leaving only Raj and Rohan in the house. With no one to watch over them, the restrictions that had once held them back dissipated like the morning mist. Raj took full advantage of this newfound freedom, throwing caution to the wind and embracing the Mumbai nightlife with reckless abandon. He would come home late, often drunk and disheveled, reeking of whiskey and the scent of other people’s cigarettes. Rohan, meanwhile, remained in the house, his lust for his father simmering just below the surface.

Raj’s newfound love for partying with his colleagues Sourav and Sam was a daily affair. Every evening, they would leave the house, their laughter echoing down the narrow lanes as they disappeared into the night. Rohan was left to his own devices, feeling an ache of disappointment that grew with every passing minute. He longed for the days when he could steal glances at his dad, when he could watch him move around the house, shirtless and oblivious to the desires he stirred in his son. But now, his father’s body was a distant memory, only to be recalled through the foggy lens of his imagination.

Each night, Rohan would lie in bed, listening for the sound of the door opening. He would wait with bated breath, his heart skipping a beat every time he heard a noise that might signal his dad’s return. But the hours stretched on, and the sounds of the party outside grew fainter, until all that remained was the gentle hum of the Mumbai night. His thoughts grew darker, his resentment towards Sourav and Sam festering like a sore. They were the ones taking his dad away from him, the ones denying him the chance to be close to the man he craved.

One such evening, Rohan received an invitation to a birthday party for his friend, Akash. It was a beacon of light in the gloomy sea of his solitude. The prospect of escaping the confines of his house and the oppressive weight of his desires was too tempting to resist. He accepted the invitation eagerly, hoping that the party would provide a much-needed distraction from his tumultuous emotions.

The day of the party dawned bright and clear, and Rohan found himself dressed in his best clothes. He had picked out a pair of tight-fitting jeans that hugged his slender legs and a shirt that clung to his chest in all the right places. He applied a touch of cologne, the scent reminiscent of the freshly showered men he so often found himself lusting after. With a final glance in the mirror, he took a deep breath and stepped out into the world, leaving the suffocating atmosphere of his home behind.

The party was everything Rohan had hoped for—loud music, flashing lights, and a throng of people that allowed him to lose himself in the anonymity of the crowd. He danced with abandon. His heart raced with every beat of the music, and he felt alive in a way he hadn’t in months. As the night progressed, he found himself drawn to the balcony, where the cool breeze offered a respite from the oppressive heat inside.

As the party reached its crescendo, Rohan decided it was time to leave. He stepped outside, his ears still ringing from the bass, and hailed a taxi. The journey home was a blur of neon lights and the distant sound of festivities. He leaned back against the seat, feeling the tension in his body slowly begin to melt away. The party had been a welcome distraction, but he knew that the moment he stepped into the house, reality would come crashing back down on him.

But as he approached his street, a sight that made his heart sink greeted him. His dad, Raj, was being held upright by his two colleagues, Sourav and Sam. They stumbled out of a nearby bar, the neon light glinting off their laughter-filled eyes. Raj was in a state that was far from the stoic figure that Rohan was used to. He was a mess—his clothes were rumpled, his tie askew, and his face flushed from what could only be an excess of alcohol. Sourav and Sam, both of them equally intoxicated, had their arms around him, supporting him as they all but carried him down the street.

Rohan ducked into the shadows of an alley, his heart hammering in his chest. He had never seen his dad like this before, and the sight of him in such a compromised state filled him with a mix of worry and anger. Why was he out so late, getting drunk with these men? .

As the trio approached a car parked a few houses down, Rohan noticed that Sourav and Sam had a bit too much of a firm grip on his father. Something felt off, and his instincts screamed at him to intervene. Without a second thought, he rushed 

[Reader:  If you are sexually active, please use healthy precautions, be regular about medical check-ups, and only act with consent.  Actions in this fantasy story do not carry consequences like they do in real life.  Be sure not to act with abandon as do the story’s characters.]

[Email: [email protected]]

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The Boys and the Boss

As we turn from the stairs, I’m surprised to see mirrors everywhere.  Tony points to the left and says, “Ya wanna take a leak?”

“Yea – yea, I do.”

As I’m pissing I realize again my groin’s been shaved.  It feels weird to my hand, and as I look down my junk looks huge.  There’s nothing left there to hide it.

I can’t help but look at my own reflection, too.  Geeze, it’s making me go semi hard.  What the hell.  This can’t be arousing for me . . . not this shitty situation.

Back in the hall, Tony is turned towards me now.  I look at him, and sure enough, black gothic letters tattoo says T O N Y in sort of an arch above his bellybutton.  Below it, in smaller letters and straight, not arched, right above his cock, D i F I L  I P P O.

“So – your name across your stomach.  The boss made you get that?”

“I’m honored, Charlie.  Shows I’m his boy.  You’ll see.  You’ll love havin’ yours, too.”

“No fuckin’ way!”

The other two big ugly thugs are in the gym working out.  (What I am I thinking?  I look like them now!) 

“O.K.  This is Jimmy and Sammy.”  They both reach out to shake my hand . . . and I see that they’re both looking at my crotch.

Jimmy says to me, “That’s a nice lookin’ pole and balls you got, Charlie.”

I don’t know just how to reply – so, I don’t.

“I think yer blushin’, Charlie,” Jimmy says to me.  He’s playing with himself.  He sees me noticing.  He adds, “Dude – yer gonna be playin’ with your cock a lot, too.  Jest wait till ya been here a few days.”

“Whatever.”  – I notice I’m gettin’ a semi hardon.  I’m disgusted with myself and embarrassed .

Tony tells me, “Come on over here.  I wanna see ya workin’ out.  With your body, I’ll enjoy it.”

The idea of putting on a porn show for Tony doesn’t strike me as cool.  But, if I’m gonna get outta here, I gotta play along with everything the best I can.  For now.

“Yea.  O.K.” I say.  “Lemme work off some anger.”

As I start working out, I’m looking at myself naked in the mirror.  My shaved head.  The ring in my nose.  The tunnel starters in my ears.  My smooth crotch and huge lookin’ dick and balls.  Damn!  I’m getting hard again!  No!  Can’t do this.  But, I can’t hide it. 

Tony says, “I think you’re gonna like it here.  You haven’t even had any of Boss’ special juice from the kitchen, and your dick is already likin’ it here!”

“No way.  It’s just stress.  I’m really pent up . . . and mad.  That’s why I’m gettin’ hard.”  I know I’m lyin’.  Something in me is a traitor to me.

We’ve worked out for about an hour.  My stiffness is gone now . . . at least the stiffness in my muscles.  I keep seeing myself in all these mirrors and the stiffness between my legs just keeps getting encouraged.  This can’t be.  It just can’t.

Ricky and Sammy are coming into the kitchen now –  two others with him.

Ricky says, “Hey Charlie – ya met Carrie and Johnnie yet?  Ya haven’t, right?”

“No, I haven’t.”

They’re naked like all of us.  My eyes can’t miss the bushes on ‘em – with nothing I can see comin’ outta them.  Can’t see whether they’ve got something there or not. 

“I’m Carrie”, one of them says to me and offers his hand.  I take it.  I’m trying to act normal.  Not easy.  “And, I’m Johnnie”, the other one says doing the same.

“Hi . . . ah . . . to both ya . . . ah . . .”, I’m stuttering.

Johnnie is saying to me, “Go on.  Take a look.  We know you want to.”

“No – no, that’s all right.”

“Go ahead.  I do got a dick.  It’s soft now and up inside my foreskin, so you can’t see it.  Reach down there and make it hard.”

“No way – I’m not – I won’t – ah, ah.”

Tony reaches down in Johnnie’s bush and says, “C’mon, Johnnie.  Lemme me make ya feel good”, and he’s got whatever’s there in his hand.

I’m just standing here, kinda dumb.

“There.  Ya see”, Tony says.  “Take a look.”

I look.  In his fingers there’s a cock (I guess).  It’s maybe an inch long and looks hard. 

All of a sudden Ricky grabs my right hand and moves it down by Tony’s, saying, “Grab ahold”.

“No way.  Not doing that.”

“Damn, Charlie. It’s yer loss then.”

Johnnie is snickering . . . and reaching for Tony’s cock, telling him, “You always know just how to handle my boy clit”.

What the hell.  Like I thought before, this place is getting weirder and weirder.

Sammy says, “You’ll come round, Charlie.  Just need some time.  You’re gonna be just like us.”

“I’m NOT Charlie,” I tell him.

Carrie tells me, “Quit resistin’, CHARLIE.  You ARE ‘Charlie’ –  sooner you accept that, the sooner you can let the changes come on.”

“I ain’t doin’ any ‘changes’.’’ I tell him.

Ricky is laughing, “Hmph.  Says the new boy.”

I’m thinkin’ . . . were Johnnie and Carrie always like this?  Did Phillipe have anything to do with their tiny packages?

We’re sitting three to a bench at the table.  The others are talking and dropping their hands to their crotches or the crotch of the one next to them.  Sammy is next to me and reaches for mine.  My hand immediately pushes his away, and I tell him strongly, “I DON’T THINK SO!”

“Touchy, touchy.  O.K.  I’ll jest wait till ya come round.  Ya will, ya know.”

“I doubt that.”

After Johnnie and Carrie leave, Tony says, “They’re Boss’ girls.”

“So, that’s what you call them . . . .”

“Yup.  That’s what they are.  You saw their little pricks.  Ya see their nice butts?  Outside of club members, only Boss gets their asses, though.”

“Club members . . . ah . . . they . . . “

“Sure they do.  Ours, too, if they like.  Boss doesn’t wanna get sick from catchin’ somethin’ from us – so he makes the members use condoms that he’s got in boxes on the bar it they wanna fuck us.  He’s even got us on prep.”

“No way.”

“Hell ya!  Why not?  We fuck and suck each other, too.  Ya gonna like it here, Charlie, once Boss gets your blood sample back and he knows you’re clean.”

“Blood sample?!”

“Yea – while you were out and we shaved ya and all, he took one.  He won’t let us fuck each other unless he knows we’re clean.  Has a doc who’s a member take care of checkin’ us on a schedule, too.”

“What the hell!  Clean or not, that’s not me.  I’m not into that.  If you’re gay, fine.  I’m straight.”

As Tony starts to the hallway again he nods to me to follow and says, “Um hm – I was, too.  You’ll see.  You’ll come round.”

“No fuckin’ way.”

“Yea – ya will – Boss has his ways.  You’ll find out.”

“Speak of the devil and he will appear”.  I look ahead and at the far end of the hallway Phillipe is walking toward us.  He’s naked, too.  His cock is huge.

“Tony, how has Charlie been doing?”

“It’s all good, Boss.  Showed him around and we worked out in the gym.  He’s met all the boys.  We just ate.”

“Charlie – you have questions, I am certain.”

“Fuckin’ right I do, Phillipe.”

“Charlie, we have to get a few things straight.  First of all, you do not address me as ‘Phillipe’.  You call me either ‘Boss’ or ‘Sir’.  Second, you always speak respectfully to me.  You will suffer if you do not follow any directive that I give you.

“Do you understand?”

“I’m not in the military.  You’ve kidnapped me – PHILLIPE.  I don’t have to do what you say.”

“Boys, take Charlie to the basement.”

Tony has been joined by Ricky and Sammy who came out of the kitchen into the hallway as Phillipe was walking toward us.  Now, they’re all three grouping around me.  It’s clear that I can’t win if I try to keep them from making me go back downstairs.  I’m thinking how I forgot what I decided about playin’ along till I could figure a way outta here.  Damn.  I’ve messed up now.  

Tony tells me, “Charlie, ya gotta respect Boss.  Now you’re gonna pay.  Either go down to the basement on your own, or we’ll take ya there.”

“I’ll go.  I’ll go.  No need any of us gettin’ hurt.”

We’re in the basement now.  This is only the second time I’ve been in here.  I see the cross with the pully attached to its top.  There’s a table off to the right with a bunch of stuff on it . . . small boxes, candles, jars.  In the back right corner I see a steel table.  It looks like a long food prep table on wheels.

Phillipe tells his ‘boys’, “Strap Charlie to the Andrew’s Cross and pull it upright.”

I don’t know what to expect.

Phillipe is saying, “Boy, you must learn that I have certain ‘unusual’ powers.  I told you that there was voodoo in my town.  Actually, it is in my family.  My parents were priests.  I have their powers, too.”

“Voodoo?  What kind of shit is that?  I don’t believe in that kind of stuff.”

“You are about to change your belief, I think, Charlie.”

He’s lighting candles and dimming the lights.  He’s lookin’ in that bunch of stuff on the table, and he’s sorting through it like he’s lookin’ for something.

“Ahh, yes.  Here is what I need.”

He’s got some kind of ragdoll-looking thing in his hand.  He’s starting up chanting.  Don’t know what language it is, but it’s not English and it doesn’t sound like French, either. 

He’s walking up to me and startin’ to rub the doll’s face in mine, and now its torso on mine, its crotch in mine, and the same on down to my legs.  Now, he’s round behind me and doing what’s probably the same thing with all the parts of the doll’s backside down mine from my head to my heels.

He stops his chanting.  “Charlie, you have perhaps heard of voodoo dolls.  They are real.  This one has been identified with you now.  Through it, I can cause good and bad things to happen to you.”

He’s chanting some more, and he’s got the doll by its head.  Can’t make out what he’s doing.

“Ahhh.  Ahhhh.   No.  Nooo.  Stop!” I’m crying out.  My face feels like it’s in a vice closing tight around it.  It’s not stopping.  I’m crying out.  I’m in agony.  “What’re you doin’ to me?!  Stop.  Please, please stop . . . !”

I must have passed out from the pain.  I’ve never before felt anything like it.  Never.  I’m coming back to consciousness now.  Don’t know if I was out for a minute or an hour.  I can see all four of ‘em still standing there.  My face is on fire.

“Ricky”, Phillipe says, “show Charlie in the mirror the change that has happened to his body.”

Ricky’s getting that mirror and pulling it over to the cross.  No drape over it this time.  I can see myself.  With all the pain that is in my face, I look at it first.

Damn!  I don’t believe it.  “You fuckin’ bastard, Phillipe!  You’ve mutilated me.  What have you done to my face?!”

I’ve always thought that my face looked pretty good, even handsome.  But, now . . . now it’s like pictures of Neanderthals that I’ve seen.  My forehead’s all narrow.  My eyes are sunk deep below it.  My eyebrows are thick and meet above my nose – my nose with the ring hangin’ outta it.  My jaw is pushed way forward.  My beard used to grow nice and even, but now it’s scraggily-like.  I’m still bald.

“Now you know that I truly do have powers you cannot fathom.

“Boys, lower the cross and unstrap him.  Take him back to the second floor.

“Tell him that unless he wants more ‘special treatment’ he had best show respect for Boss.”

He is leaving, and the boys are coming toward me.

Sammy is saying, “Yer a fuckin’ dumbass, Charlie.  Ya don’t disrespect Boss.  But, guess ya know now that can bring a whole lotta hurt, huh?”

The pain’s waring off fast.  We’re in the second floor hallway.  They all go into the dormitory room, so I just follow.  They tell me to sit on one of the four beds . . . and they form a semi-circle in front of me, with Ricky in the middle.

“Ya look like some kinda caveman, Charlie.  Hmm, wild man look.  Sexy.”

He is reaching for my cock.

I bat his hand away.  “Keep your hands off me!  Things are bad enough without you makin’ ‘em worse.  Why’d the hell Phillipe do this?”

Sammy says, “Don’t ya mean ‘Boss’?  Remember, the cams are always goin’.  He knows if yer doin’ like he said or if yer still showin’ disrespect.”

“Shut up, Sammy.”

“Jes sayin’”.

Tony tells the others, “It’s past time for us to get down to the club and clean up for tonight.  We lost time down in the basement with Charlie.”

Ricky asks, “What’s Caveman here gonna do?  Is he gonna work in the club.?”

Tony answers, “Boss told me Charlie’s gonna help us clean, but while the club’s open tonight, he wants Charlie to stay in the gym.  He says he can workout or sleep or bate his cock, or whatever.”

I tell them, “Just fuck off, all o’ ya.”

Tony says, “C’mon.  Everyone.  You, too, Charlie.  We gotta work fast.”

The club’s cleaned up now.  Like Tony had said Phillipe had told him to do, he took me to the gym after cleaning.  I’m alone here now, locked in.

What the fuck.  Before, I already told myself that I was trapped in a body that doesn’t look like me.  Then, it was only shaved and my nose and ears were “decorated”.  Now it’s even more true.  Why the hell didn’t I keep to my plan to play along for now?  I’m screwed way worse than before.  I don’t even – didn’t even – believe in any voodoo shit.  But, losin’ my face tells me different.

I look at myself in one of the mirrored walls.  Shit, shit, shit, shit!  I lie back on the lifting bench and close my eyes as the tears flow.

I must o’ fell asleep.  I’m on the bench.  My hand’s in my crotch.  I’m hard.  I start doin’ like Sammy said . . . batin’ my cock.  Feels good.

It’s been a while I’m here bating . . . I’m feeling it build up.  I’m gonna cum. “ Ahhh.  Yeahhh!”  A rope of cum sprays up and lands on my chest.  Before – I’d have cleaned it up.  In this fuckin’ situation, I just rub in around and figure it’ll dry on its own.

The clock says it’s only 8:30.  I might as well work out.

After a few hours, I’m finished.  Nowhere I can go.  Nothin’ I can do.  Guess I’ll see if I can fall asleep again.  Eventually someone’s gonna come get me.

A little after 2:00 A.M., the door to the gym opens.  Ricky’s calling me.  “Hey, Caveman – C’mon.  Wer in the kitchen.  After the club’s done we eat some.  C’mon.”

I go with him, and they’re all in there except for “the girls”. 

Sammy pipes up right away with, “Kinda like your new look, Charlie.  Like one tough dude.  Wouldn’t wanna meet ya in a dark alley.”

“Lay off.” 

They’re all laughing.

Going toward the fridge, Ricky says, “I’m hungry.  Who wants what?”

We all ate.  I was hungry.  It didn’t taste bad.  Now, the four of us are in the dorm.  I waited for the other three to go to their beds so I’d know which one is left for me.

Before lying down, I go across the hall.  It’s time to take a crap.  The toilets I’d noticed earlier were all three in a row on the far  left wall walking in.  No partitions.  No seats or lids.  I felt strange sitting down on the cold fixture.  No sooner am I on it than in comes Ricky and sits on the one next to me.  Another weird “first” for me.  I’m having a hard time not tensing up and letting my ass relax enough so that I can take a shit.

Ricky’s having no trouble.  He farts and I hear the turd from his ass hit the water in the toilet bowl.  Powerful stink, too.  He looks over toward me.  “Yer gonna git used to it, Charlie.  Go on.  Relax.  Let it lose.”

I finally do.

It’s only last night that I stopped into Club Voodoo for a bite to eat . . . and now my whole world is turned upside down.  It seems like a month ago so much has happened to me in the last 24 hours.

My nose has been bleeding off and on all day where my septum was punched through.  It hurts like hell.  It’s the same thick size ring as the others have.  I’ve been using toilet paper to soak up the blood when it starts up.

Coming back into the dorm, I see that Sammy and Tony are on the same bed now, sitting side by side with their hands in one another’s crotches.  They’re Frenching, too.

Ricky was behind me coming into the room, and he comes over to sit beside me.  He nods across to the other two, looks at me and smiles.  “Let’s play,” he says to me, as his hand moves down between my legs.

I instinctively grab his wrist and push it back in his direction. 

“C’mon Brother.  It’s what we do.”

“It’s not what I do.”

“Really?  Yer one o’ us now.  Yer a diFilippo brother.”

“No – I’m NOT.  Keep your hands away from me or you’ll wish you had.”

“Hmm.  Wonder if Boss is watchin’.  Ya see those cams up in the ceiling corners, right?”

I had forgotten.

“Should I give a damn?”

“Yer really slow catchin’ on, Charlie.  I woulda thought that losin’ that good lookin’ face woulda been all it took.  Ya really don’t wanna make Boss mad.  He wants us to keep each other hard.”

I get up and move toward Ricky’s bed.  If he’s gonna sit here on mine, I’ll go lie down on his.  No covers anywhere.  No need for them it’s kept so hot in here.

Sammy’s moved to his knees and has Tony’s cock in his mouth now.  He’s bobbing his head up and down on it fast and both of them are moaning.  Tony’s got his hand behind Ricky’s head and he’s pushing him back down on his shaft each time he comes up almost to its tip.

I lie down and turn toward the wall . . . and see my caveman face in the damn mirror.  I didn’t see or hear Ricky move behind me.  All of a sudden, his finger is in my ass crack.  I spring up and tell him, “Get the fuck away from me you ugly scum!”

“Ugly scum?  Hmm.  Look who’s talkin’.  Check us out in the mirrors, Charlie.  Who’s uglier?”

I’m moving back to what I guess is my bed.  This time I lie down with my back to the wall.  Tony, even though he’s being sucked, is looking at me.  Eyes on my crotch.

Tony says to me, “Ya got a long way to go before ya come round.  But, ya will.  Boss wants us up and hard as much of the time as possible.  You’re not gonna be any different.”

“We’ll see ‘bout that,” I tell him.

Over the next hour, Tony fucks Sammy while he sucks Ricky at the same time.  I can’t help but see how big all their dicks are.  They’re moaning and groaning.  They’re shouting out their pleasure.  Then, Sammy fucks Tony.  It’s an orgy.  Tony’s on his back smiling up at Ricky.

I realize that I’m feeling something in my crotch.  I look down.  I can see that my cock is sticking straight out.  I wanna touch it, rub it . . . but, I don’t wanna let these animals see me doing it.  I don’t want them to know that what’s going on is making me hard.  I’m straight.  Maybe when it’s dark I’ll beat off.

It turns out the lights in the dorm are on a dimmer that only goes down so far.  It’s never completely dark.  I guess I’m not gonna risk masturbating again tonight.

Tony and Ricky have stayed on the same bed.  They’re asleep on their sides, with Tony behind Ricky with his cock still in his ass.  Unbelievable.  I gotta figure out how to escape from this sinkhole.

Waking up in the morning the clock on one of the mirrored walls says it’s 11:00.  Two of the others are stirring.  All of us are wearing morning wood.  Unconsciously, I reach down and take hold of it.  Umm. It feels good.  When I look over to the other side, all three of the “brothers” are just looking at me, smiling, while they work theirs.

“How’s it feel, Charlie,” Sammy asks.

“Just fine, Asshole,” I answer him.

“That ain’t no way fer ya to talk to a brother, Charlie.”

“You ain’t my brother.”

Tony says, “We shower when we get up.  Get your ass over across the hall.  Then, we gotta have breakfast, work out.  Yesterday I had to get up early to get you off the Andrew’s Cross.  Did the day different. Today’s it’s back to normal.”

We’re crossing into the john, all of us playing with ourselves – even me – and looks like we’re gonna shower . . . together.  I see myself in the group in the mirrors.  I don’t want to admit it to myself, but they are making me hard.  Damn.  This can’t be happening.  I’m straight.

To Be Continued

Dressed in Leather

We continued like this for a week till it was Saturday again. That day when he returned to lunch, he told me.

-I want to play new games with that ass of yours, I mean with that ass of mine, Clyde. I just wonder whether you’d like to go deeper.

-Anything you want, Everett, you know you’re the owner of your father’s ass.

-Then first let’s strip completely, both at the same time.

We did and were already used to taking our clothes off very quickly and of course with no shame before the other. I was always hard as hell watching my sexy Everett totally nude.

-And now, Clyde, what I want first is spanking that ass of mine, so you should lie on my lap.

-Yeah, Everett, spank that ass you own as hard as you want, yeah, always dominate me.

I took no time to lie on his lap and get ready to be spanked. He started softly but seeing how I moaned and was again in heaven, he was slowly increasing the intensity, and soon it was hard spanks. All I did was yell in utter fun and thanking him, so he finally dared spank me in a very painful way.

-Never hesitate, Everett, and spank me for as long as you want. If you want me to sleep tonight with a red ass, I’ll also appreciate it and will sleep like that. Yes, you know how to treat this ass that belongs to you, that will always belong to you.

And indeed when I finally looked at my ass in a mirror, it was quite red, cause Everett’s hard spanks continued for ten more minutes. As he did, he also asked me to masturbate him and I grabbed his sexy cock and was pumping it as he spanked me till he shot his first load that day.

-Now wait for me here, but don’t put your clothes back on.

I waited for just three minutes till I saw him coming with ropes. I was not scared with such sweet boy as my son, for he told me.

-Now I’m gonna tie your hands to the table legs.

-Good, Everett -I told him totally horny.

He managed to tie my hands expertly, as if he’d done that a thousand times before and again asked me to wait.

I was wondering what now but was now waiting for my son, tied to the table legs, for five minutes. When he returned, I reached the utmost of my arousal when I saw him completely clad in leather. He wore a tight-fitting brown leather jacket and really sexy leather pants, which made his crotch still more arousing to see, his dick then hidden inside it, but really hard. As he approached me, I also learnt to appreciate the smell of leather, a smell of anal domination for me after that day, which mixed with Everett’s male clean smell. I also saw him approaching a dildo in his hand.

-Of course I’ll also fuck you today, Clyde, but first you’ll be fucked by this dildo.

In the position I was, squatting totally nude tied to the table legs, I felt it at once. That dildo was piercing me and Everett was getting what he knew I wanted: madly waiting for his very dick to fuck me, but he knew how to make me desperate and long for it. He pushed the dildo really deep and my ass felt again the fun of having something inside, but at the same time I felt a bit frustrated and he knew it. This was just plastic. It was not his hot dick which eventually would pour his masculine semen inside me, but it was hot to be waiting for his dick, sure that sooner or later it would shag me today too at least once. And with that certainty, I went mad with arousal. He owned my ass and was sure about it. He just tried new games and of course I would never complain.

But with a red ass after the spanking, the dildo game lasted for just ten minutes. Suddenly he pushed it out and told me to wait for him again. He moved to his room and now brought something new that he’d also bought to keep on playing new anal games. At once I saw it. It was a fuck machine! He was quick to make it work and my ass felt now the thrill of a dildo which mechanically entered my ass, got out of it, entered me again and thus it was for a long time.

-I want to make you desperate for my dick, Clyde, which in the end you will feel, of course, but now you’ll be fucked by the machine for half an hour as I sit on this couch and read for a while watching sometimes how this device fucks you instead of my cock.

It was so hot to watch him sitting there and getting totally hard as he watched how his father was constantly fucked by that machine as I was tied to the table legs, unable to get free, but never wanting Everett to set me free. He knew how to possess my ass and find new ways of showing it for any new thing he did with this ass of mine was his right, for my ass only had an owner: my sweet Everett. As my ass was being mechanically fucked, I felt the moment was approaching for a first fuck that day with my son’s hot dick.

It was half an hour of frustrated but at the same time utter fun with my ass till finally he stood up and told me.

-That ass of yours needs to be all day pierced but what I’m sure your ass really needs is hot semen bathing it, at least once a day. So there I go!

And in less than half a minute, he’d taken away the fuck machine and in came again my son’s dick, viciously and in a single thrust.

The wait had really been worthwhile but here it was at last! After having had my ass such a long time pierced by substitutes, I needed the real thing and that horny boy was showing me a way not only to be the owner of my ass, but after now, to madly make me yearn for his cock. My God! I didn’t know what I wanted in life before the first time Everett fucked me in the ass, I was a man who had not had any sex before, not quality sex I mean, but now that I knew what I needed, I was increasingly certain that my son was also sure what I needed. His hot cock was still opening new lanes in my crack for his dick to walk, to set there his abode, a place to live in after now and I wanted him inhabiting my ass for life.

With a big shout of happiness, he filled my ass one more time of son’s semen and next he finally untied me. When I stood up, all I could do was kissing his mouth and thank him profusely for all he’d done to me today and encouraged him to always be this dominant, this anal freak with his father.

That very day he still had to fuck me twice more, the last time in bed, and I also gave him a blowjob. And thus we still live, me always eagerly waiting for his dick to pierce me and never cumming before he enters me.

Back To Us

Dean opened the doors into the drawing room of the Archers Holland Park home. A vast space with high ceilings, sprawling leather sofas, and furniture so large it was almost a caricature of what a conventional living room should look like. Everything was large for large’s sake. A room reserved for Audrey and Mark to receive guests when they were in the city and the obligatory Christmas morning family gathering if they opted to host in London. Happy and busy memories etched into the walls, now the scene of a sombre summit between two brothers following the most harrowing of ordeals. They were back together.

Lee was sitting on the farthest dark brown studded sofa in the bay window. He looked nervous. Uneasy. His head darted about until he could sense Dean in the room.

Dean considered Lee’s demeanour for a moment. How he’d never seen him like this. Always stoic and collected. All sense of pride melted as his eyes settled on his brother. The man responsible for his husband now safe in a hospital rather than, and his mind hit a wall. He refused to think of the alternative. He fought the emotion threatening to punch through his eyes and ran to his brother. There was absolutely no place here in this moment, this chance they’d been given, to prolong a fight. It was futile given the events of that morning and the past week. The past months.

Lee rose, arms outstretched. He didn’t know if Dean would embrace him or still feel aggrieved by his past actions. Thank him but still be unable to forgive him. He made peace and understood as Dean approached.

His uncertainty was soon dispersed.

Dean crashed into him. Arms wrapped around him. Palms slapping his back. Lee leaned in. His brother needed his support. Physically and emotionally that day, and he would hope he could give them in equal measure in the days and months and years that stretched out before them. He was a big brother again. At last. Dean shuddered; Lee felt the tears splash against his neck. Dean roared. “You saved him! You saved his fucking life!” Dean swayed with his older brother while the tears and profound sense of relief moved through them both like a current. A feeling so powerful, yet until that morning, Dean wasn’t even able to allow himself to think it was possible to experience.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” Lee whispered. His hand slid up to the back of Dean’s head. The movement startled Dean. He’d not felt this sort of embrace from his brother before. Henry, yes. His mother, of course. Even his father over the years. It wasn’t just what he’d been through that morning; there was a shift in the time they’d not spoken. Dean could feel it. Tectonic plates finally shifting into places they should have always been. Painful, stubborn, and angry movements, now settling. He squeezed a little tighter at the unexpected but always wanted touch.

Dean delicately pulled away at Lee’s words and grabbed his shoulders. His face sobered. “After what you just did, you’re apologising? What the hell is wrong with you? Lee, it’s forgotten. I speak for Jamie as much as myself; I’m sure of it.” They sat. Still embracing. Laboured breaths and sniffs.

“I did what anyone would have if they had the hunch I did.” Lee offered. The old Lee was still in there, diminishing his part in anything. Happy to be sitting in the shadows. His eyes betrayed him. Again.

“Christ, are you crying too? Lee. Look at me. There’s more to all this. Tell me.” Dean could read his brother instantly. The perfect granite surface was beginning to crumble before him. Dean had to know. He wanted to help in any small way that he could. Even then.

“Yes, I know. Now a handful of times in forty-seven years. Not good.” He paused and wrung his hands. “Dean, there’s so much to tell you. So much. I have a cheek asking, but I think I’m going to need Jamie’s and yours help to navigate this. Now that I’m finally realising who I am.”

Dean went to wrap his arms around him again, but his stomach screamed. “Ah, shit. One sec.” Dean lay back and gritted his teeth.

“Are you alright? Can I do anything?” Lee laid a hand gently on Dean’s stomach.

“Since when were you so attentive to others?” Dean half winced, half chuckled. “I’ll live. Jamie broke in last night. Is that even technically correct since it’s his home, too? Anyway. He dropped by, then, for want of a better phrase, and we got into a kind of fight. I went after him, but these two guys jumped me.” The realisation of what Jamie had said was like another punch. He swallowed quickly and leaned forward. “He threw his rings at me and told me it was over. Fuck. Lee, what if when he wakes he still thinks the same?” He folded, and tears fell again. He sounded exhausted and pained.

Uncharacteristically, at least from what people had come to expect of him, Lee moved closer and held his little brother. He had to find the right words. The Lee of the past would have used this as an opportunity to weaken Jamie and Dean. This new, honest, hope-to-be-in-a-bona-fide-relationship-very-soon Lee saw this as a marriage in jeopardy that he had to save. “From what I’ve gathered, he was being used in an awful drug trafficking operation, a pawn. He wouldn’t have willingly gone into that. He’s a smart kid. His attitude alone would have made anyone run a mile unless he was under the influence of something.” He chuckled delicately. “From what was said in conversations I overheard, he’d been laced with some potent LSD strain, concocted by that Hollingsworth character. I can pretty confidently say that what Jamie said yesterday was not him. Not remotely. You have to believe me. If not. At least believe in him.”

Dean’s face didn’t react to Lee’s words. From the past week and especially that morning, nothing now shocked or surprised him. “Why are people so cruel?” He pondered. “He wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone. Jesus, he runs a homeless charity for fuck’s sake. In between everything else. He’s so pure. He doesn’t understand why people are so awful. It’s why he’s so hurt all the time.” Dean’s hands went to fists. It was always true. Everyone knew it. Harm Trouble  and Dean didn’t need to think; the city would be flattened to make him happy and safe again.

“I can quite believe that. I was one of those who hurt him.” Lee sighed.

“Forget that. It’s in the past. It was misplaced big brother protectiveness. I get that. You just need to trust me. AND, most importantly. Trust HIM.” Dean’s fists clenched again, this time in reflex to his own words. If only Lee would finally do as he begged.

“I do. I always have. I will say sorry once again, and I will to him. What happened this morning doesn’t excuse my past behaviour.” Lee grabbed his fist.

Dean looked up at him. “Yes, what did happen this morning? How the hell did you end up being involved? And I want to know everything. I have to. I hate myself a little for even saying this, but I should have been the one to get him out of whatever shit he was stuck in.” Dean punched his thigh and gasped.

Lee grabbed him again. “You cannot feel guilt or any sense of failure over the events of the past week. You weren’t to know. I’ll explain.” Lee said softly. Trying to reason with a brother physically wrestling with his emotions and a body reeling in pain.

Lee leaned back and sighed. He looked over at the bar. “Before I get into this, can I interest you in a whisky? I think we’ve earned it.” He got up, tapping Dean on the knee, and poured. He came back. Gulped half and gave out a sigh again.

“I’m never not speaking to you for a long time again. You’ve like completely changed.” Dean chuckled. Still rubbing his stomach. He held his gaze. “Take this as a compliment, but maybe for the better?”

“You have no idea, and thanks, I think.” He grinned back and began.

Lee spoke of his first encounter with Drew at the wedding. He spoke of their clandestine relationship that followed. He spoke of Drew’s need for Lee to tell him he loved him when he had done so, so vulnerably, only to be shut down. He spoke of his curiosity leading him to Khonsu. He spoke of encountering Drew again and knowing he was not happy but not knowing how unhappy or how in danger he really was. He spoke of Maria. He spoke of his need to act when he learnt of his brother-in-law’s disappearance despite their long silence. He spoke of his making the connection between Gordon Hewitt and the operations within Khonsu along with Hollingsworth. He spoke of Harry. Reasoning that at the very least Harry would understand his indiscretion given the circumstances.

Dean didn’t interject once. He knew these were words Lee had been bottling for years. He could see him deflate in relief at the release of every single one he spoke. Lee’s immaculately, curated exterior began to break. His hair began to fall over his forehead. His sleeves were shoved further and further up his forearms. Solid grips around his brother to support him turned to nervous taps and rubs on his own legs. Not knowing what to do with this new honesty he was willingly pushing out into the world. He paused. “Are you going to say anything? Do you hate me? Are you ashamed of me?”

Dean finally spoke. The entire time a hand was on his brother’s shoulder. Lee carried his brothers stresses, struggles, grief, unhappiness, and elation on his back. Now, Dean knew it was time to take his emotional weight and heave it onto his own. “I will talk when you’re ready for me to.”

Lee nodded, staring at the floor. Dean spoke softly. “I don’t hate you. I’m not ashamed of you. I love you. I’ve always admired your steadfast approach to life; it’s not for everyone, but there is something to respect in how you do things.” Dean paused. This next part was going to be hard for him to hear. “But, I think you’re ashamed of yourself. You have real and true feelings for a man. You’ve got to forget about appearances. Who fucking cares? I don’t, and look at me? I’m in what’s arguably a masculine world, and no one actually gives a shit. We’re trained by society to fear being us. But there is nothing to fear if you surround yourself with the best people. You have us. Let us be there for you. You’ve always modelled yourself on being this extreme version of masculinity that doesn’t leave room for honesty in who you love or who you really are. And going back to what you said earlier? Yes, Jamie and I will fully support you. For the record. What you did to Drew was shitty.” He playfully punched his shoulder.

He continued. “But, if my marriage and relationship before that have taught me anything, you can and will drag each other through the mud but still be there to clean each other off because, in the end, there is no one else you want to be that vulnerable in front of. That person sees you at your ugliest, lowest form and still fucking wants to love you. Family and friends are blessings, but finding the one is terrifyingly beautiful. They’re your oxygen. You want to suffocate almost to be able to miss them for just a moment to experience it again. In huge gasps and gulps. That’s what finding the one should be. Every day. It’s exhausting, but you’ll gladly wake each day to do it over again. The stakes are high in this game, though. Remember that. You have to trust that the other person feels the same. I hope Jamie still feels that for me. Drew told you, and you broke that for him. You have to tell him again. Properly. Or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

Lee looked up at his brother. His little brother. He’d never heard such wisdom in all these years. The truth was he didn’t consider love, regret, or emotions of any kind as anything more than complications and obstacles. It meant he wound up alone. Full of love and regret and nowhere for either to go. The irony made him laugh. “Wow. I really have been a prick.”

Dean leaned back and swigged his whisky. “You said it. I’m not going to disagree, but you did save my husband’s life, so I wouldn’t use the term myself.”

“Shut up. I did what I had to do given the facts that I had.” Lee snapped playfully.

“Well, apply that logic to your life too. You’re the barrister. Winning cases left, right, and centre, but your life, the most important case of all, you’re losing, contrary to the evidence.” Dean flung his hands up. He felt he was finally getting through.

“Tough words, but I need to hear them. I have to see Drew. I have to do this.” The nervous hands were gone. The sureness of what he had to do to win Drew back inflated his arms. Fists. Ready to fight.

They finished their drinks and took another. Audrey and Mark crept in, relieved at the scene. Two brothers smiling. Laughing. Grabbing at each other as they had as boys.

The following day, Lee would contact Terry Bates to put forward the case to get access to Drew. At the discretion of the medical staff, this would be granted. Drew’s tragic history was ultimately to be to Lee’s advantage. No family. No significant other person. No one. Lee was the only person worried about him. It was so utterly sad. He couldn’t help but place blame at his own door. If he hadn’t denied Drew what he deserved all those years ago, he wouldn’t have set in motion the events that followed. He held that realisation in a new place he had come to store his feelings. No longer shoving them to the back of his head like memories he’d rather forget. But now in his heart. The muscle now pushing him to do the right thing. Pumping love, endless possibilities, and happiness around him.

Later, after his reunion with Lee, Dean turned his attentions to his and Jamie’s friends. His phone hadn’t stopped buzzing in his pocket since he woke. He escaped to the garden to check through his endless missed calls and messages. As he did, he had another through from Harry. He answered. He could feel the relief of telling loved ones that Jamie was safe rising through him. He went to speak, but Harry launched straight in. “Dean! Dean! Thank God! I think I know where Jamie is! We can act today, but we need to mo…”

“H.”

“Move fast. I think he’s in danger…”

“H.”

“I’m sorry. There’s more I need to tell you. A club. Uh. Shit. I…”

“Harry Jones, will you shut the fuck up for a minute!” Dean snapped and had to laugh. Then he gasped again as his stomach reminded him of the beating he’d taken. Laughing too hard made the cut on his cheek scream again, too.

“What? Fuck, tell me. I know he’s your husband, but he’s one of my closest friends. We fell out again, I know that, but it’s only because I love him too. We just clash sometimes. I’m sorry. I…”

“Harry! He’s alive! He’s safe! I’m a fucking mess. He’s a mess. There’s so much to go through. I know about the club. You. Lee was even the one who got him out. Look, I really can’t talk right now. Police are involved; crazy shit went down at work with me, and it’s all connected. Will you update all our friends, please? I mean Gabby, Trix, Lars, Jerry, and Sally? Tell them I’ll be in touch when I can. Who else and Jamie’s talent manager, Dale? I haven’t got time nor energy for anything but him right now. I’ll drop you updates when I have them, but the main thing is he’s safe and going to make it. I’ll call you in a few days. I can’t see him right now due to the investigation. I love you. He loves you. Don’t worry. Please do this for me. I gotta go.” It was the one time Dean hung up on Harry that wasn’t a fight, but they’d known each other for twenty or so years by now. He knew Harry would take him at his word and carry out his wishes.

Harry smiled ecstatically at his phone and pressed it against his forehead in relief. “He’s alive! He’s alive! Thank fucking god!” Harry grabbed Lars in a bear hug, pulling him off the floor.

Lars burst into tears. Harry dropped him to the sofa and held him. “I thought I’d lost him! I can’t lose him. He’s my brother. He means everything to me. Well, apart from you, of course. And Dean. Those two. The world doesn’t make sense without them anymore. You too, of course. Again. Sorry. Navigating a new relationship when this is happening is extremely confusing.” Lars pushed his head into Harry’s neck. “We’ll have to wait it out, but we have to see him as soon as he’s up to it.”

“I get it. I’m going through the same feelings as you, so don’t worry. You’re right, maybe we shouldn’t say anything just yet. Jamie will probably tease us to hell and back, and Dean would just stress over us hurting each other. They don’t need that distraction right now.” They chuckled and held their heads together. Palms on cheeks.

Without thinking, Lars grabbed his phone and fired off a text.

LARS: I’m so happy our boy is safe. I love you both. Please take care of yourself and give yourself a hug from me. X

Dean clocked the message and frowned. He’d only told Harry moments ago. Why would Lars be the first person he called? And that quickly? His mind was too busy to pay it any more thought. He shoved his phone away and went back to his family as Ali, Martha, and David arrived. All tears, relief, and gasps.

“Thank goodness this is over. You know you’re not to blame in all of this, Dean, dear boy. I will not be happy if I hear you’ve been hard on yourself. My little boy is out of harm’s way, and that’s all that matters.” Martha embraced him. Ali held him. They had a tempestuous relationship, but both Ali and Jamie would go to the ends of the earth for each other when the need arose. Her steely disposition melted. Tears and delicate smiles of relief in its place.

“I’m so happy he’s okay,” she shuddered. Dean wrapped her up in his arms.

“Hey. Happy tears are good. He’s going to be ok. I’ll give him all our love when I can. It’s ok.” Dean stroked her hair. Having Ali there was healing in itself. The closest he’d been to Jamie in days. There was no one else on earth as close to him. He smiled; they would hate it, but he thought they were so alike. “Thank you for coming to see me. I love you all.”

David seemed a wrestling mix of shock and relief, too stunned to speak, but he had to reassure Dean he had his full support.

“You know, I’m not even worried from here on in because I know you’ll get him on the path to recovery. You’re a good man, Dean. Take care of our boy.” They’d been married almost six years, but praise of any kind from David sent him hurtling back to that first evening they met. Impressions as fragile as eggshells. Always making sure he handled them with care.

“You can count on me.” Dean grabbed David’s shoulder as David’s eyes filled with tears. A brilliant man reduced to raw emotions running wild over his face.

July 2nd, 2021

Jamie woke with a fright. He gasped. As if underwater for almost too long. He grabbed his chest. His stomach and head throbbed. He felt nauseous and fuzzy. An analogue TV attempting to find a channel. White noise in his ears. He squinted his eyes at a dimly lit white room. There was a distant din of machines and a drip filtering something into him. He didn’t move too quickly for fear of causing more pain. He looked at his wrist. An NHS strap affixed. He calmed for a moment, but he still felt alone and scared. He tried to speak, but only a screech escaped. “He. Hell. Hello?”

The door into the room opened softly, and a middle-aged woman in a white coat appeared with a warm smile. A short bob of grey hair framed her powdery face. She walked over to him slowly; he still recoiled slightly, using his duvet as a desperate shield. “Hello, Jamie.”

“Hell. Hello. I don’t know what’s going on. Where am I? Is my husband here? His name is Dean. Is he ok?” Jamie quickly unravelled. He looked at his left hand. “Have I been attacked?! My rings?! My beautiful rings are gone! I haven’t taken them off since my wedding day! Oh my go….” Jamie slammed his head back against the pillow and wailed. He dug his fists into his eyes, and the pain from the beating he didn’t know he’d taken roared through his face. “Jesus! What the hell has happened to me?!” Jamie writhed.

“Jamie! Jamie! Calm now. You’re safe. I’ll tell you what I know. I’m Doctor Stevens. It’s July second, twenty twenty-one. It’s four AM. You’ve been abducted, drugged, and assaulted. The police have arrested those involved, as far as I am aware. Your husband, Dean, is at a safe address. I know that’s a lot to take in, but that’s what I know so far.” Doctor Stevens’ voice was kind. He needed it.

Jamie’s cries began to fade. His fists were still at his eyes. “This can’t be real. I can’t believe this. I have to see my husband. Why would anyone want to do this to me?”

His hand fell, and Doctor Stevens held it lightly. The touch made Jamie calm, if only a little more. She didn’t feel or sound threatening. Jamie took a chance. “I understand this is extremely overwhelming. But you’re in safe hands here, and your husband is not in harm’s way either.”

Jamie controlled his cries with a pained intake of breath. “Ok. Thank you for being so kind to me. I know it’s your job, but still. What was I drugged with? What injuries have I got? I’m so sorry for the questions, but I feel like I’ve woken in a video game with no clues.”

“Well, there we are. A little humour is always good.” Doctor Stevens offered another warm smile. “From toxicology screenings we fast-tracked, a potent strain of LSD that has been linked to street trading in the city, and what was odd was a trace of a prescription sleeping pill that must have been administered within twenty-four hours of you being removed. In terms of physical injuries, a lot of swelling but no broken bones or internal damage. You’ll have some marvellous bruising to your face and abdomen, but you’re young and fit; your body will already be getting to work to fix you right up.” She gently shook his hand in encouragement.

The sweetness in the doctor’s voice and assurance Dean was apparently safe let him open up a little. “Well, thank god it’s not my face, kind of my money maker of late. But the drugs, I don’t understand. I don’t take or haven’t taken anything like that in a while. I’m sorry I did use it previously.”

“No judgement here. We’re here to get you well. Rest is what will help. You have a couple of IVs. Antibiotics to fight anything nasty trying to make you weak. Nutrition to help build up your strength and an antidote to combat involuntary withdrawal. You are being given a heavy pain medication, too, which will make you drowsy for a few days I’m afraid. But you’ll be conscious intermittently. Don’t be alarmed if you drift off mid-conversation.”

“Like a day spa but for my organs then?” Jamie tried to smile, but his face pulled tightly. Like roadblocks where his smile should travel. “Fuck. Someone must have been pissed off at me. I can’t even smile. Excuse my language.”

“Oh fuck it. F-bomb all you want. If you can’t in this situation, when can you?” She shook his hand again. “Am I right?”

“Very good point. Don’t make me laugh, Doctor Stevens.” He turned away, and his shoulder began to shudder with as controlled a laugh as he could. “I’m a Nosey Parker. What’s your first name? I think I’d feel more comfortable if I could know it.”

“Of course. I’m Caroline. Call me whenever you need anything. Jamie, I must tell you that now you are reaching consciousness, I need to inform a police officer managing your case. She’s brilliant, if a little intense, but you’ll need to listen to what she has to say and answer what you can. She may have more information and possibly names for you as well.”

“I’ll do my best. I can’t remember anything from the past week. The last thing I know, I was in a bar with a friend. Then I woke up here.”

“As this could be a few days and it might be of help with your memories, I encourage you to write down your thoughts and recollections. Write about anything. This can even be a comfort to you.”

“I’d like that. I just want to see my husband, but as you say, if I can’t right now, I’ll write about him instead. He’s still here in my head and here.” Jamie rubbed his chest. “I know that sounds cheesy. I don’t really care. I wasn’t very good to him before whatever this is, happened. I have to tell him I’m sorry. That I love him now as I did over ten years ago. He just wants me to be happy and love myself. But it took its toll on him, I think. It became an effort for him, and he was making decisions and plans he thought we should make rather than wanted to. I didn’t stop him. We went off course somehow. I can’t wait for you to meet him. He’s magnificent.” Jamie ignored the screaming in his face and allowed his smile to travel to the parts of his face it always did whenever he spoke of him.

“Well, that sounds a lot like something you should be writing down. Jamie, some of our most profound realisations come in times of trauma. It’s the body telling you to prioritise what’s good for it. It sounds like this gentleman might well be what you still need despite your recent apparent protests. And that’s ok too. We’re all human. We all make a total mess of things from time to time. It’s called life.” She squeezed his hand. “I’ll go get that pad and pen.”

Jamie smiled after her. The clarity and wisdom exchanged in those few minutes felt like a lifetime of questions and uncertainty answered and settled. He sighed a little with comfort. There was a pricking feeling just below that Dean may not feel the same way.

So Jamie wrote. He began to put his thoughts to page, attempting to understand how he ended up where he woke early that morning. Over the coming days he’d turn his pining for Dean into a story. A story of how they met. How they first declared their love for each other. Moving in together. Their engagement. Their wedding. Countless other moments throughout their history. Some were significant to many, but some only to them. Their first Christmas tree. The ashtray. Travel. Remembering some moments, Jamie found himself comforted by silliness and happiness in the mundane of the memories. But they were them too. They were just as in love, maybe even more so, behind closed doors, navigating their lives in Notting Hill as they were in the most exciting cities in the world, rubbing shoulders with the rich and powerful, and having the very best of everything. Dean made simple an aspiration, not a failure. He missed what Dean had taught him about life. He was so sorry. Pushing against the perfect life Dean built for them. Dean carried each brick of it on his back only to check Jamie was still smiling and never to ask for help. Jamie’s guilt at pushing against it made him nauseous. But he knew Dean understood. He hoped he’d still understand the wild boy he met ten years ago. And still love him. And I want to continue to be his future boy.

Jamie wrote of Dean’s introversion. Happy being quiet. Demanding alone time with Jamie, and then and only then would he open up. Be loud. Be goofy. Be silly. Make Jamie belly laugh like no one else ever could at a party under the influence of whatever. It wasn’t needed. Jamie finally realised Dean brought out the very best in him when everything else fell away. He struggled with the words as he wrote; he couldn’t quite get into the written word how wonderful it felt to finally have that clarity. After so much time.

His writing wandered more. He held Dean in his mind. Casting his eyes over every inch of that body. The muscle. The flashing of hair on his chest and stomach. The hands that held him when he needed it and dictated his every move in their bed. The constant flush of his cheeks. A shy boy who turned into an animal when they were alone. Every dimple. Every mole. Every scar. Every birthmark. He was perfect. Jamie lost himself in his journal. Minutes turned to hours, and before long he had chapters and chapters.

Later that Sunday, Commander Penhaligon attended to Jamie. There was an efficient rap of knuckles on the door. Jamie didn’t know what the etiquette was to welcome a police officer into a hospital room, so he sat up. He shoved his journal away and held the duvet up to his chest. A default he found comfort in since waking.

“Jamie Arden-Archer?”

“Hell, hi, I mean yes. Sorry.” Jamie’s nerves swirled in his stomach. She was formidable. Abrasive, almost, but he understood she had a job to do. He made it his mission to focus on trying to find some kindness in her to settle his busy brain. Even in moments like this it still threatened to find everything fascinating. He had to focus, as Dean would say. Another fond memory he hoped he could experience again soon. The click in his face was followed by a brush of his nose. Saying, ‘You’re annoying me, but I love you to death.’

“Good afternoon. Tabitha Penhaligon. Organised Crime Commander for the Met.” She snapped her badge at him. He didn’t know what he was looking at, so he nodded and smiled. “It’s good to see you recovering. The force would like to offer our best wishes in your recovery.” She pulled a chair up next to him. The well wishes felt nice. He loosened slightly. He clocked her boots and bag. He’d ask about them, he promised himself.

“Uh, thank you. I’ll fully cooperate in whatever way I can in all this. I’m not really sure of any of it myself. I…” Jamie felt the need to say something. He’d heard a line like that on countless TV shows. It sounded ridiculous, but everything since he woke up was ridiculous, so what the hell.

“I appreciate that. I’m well aware that waking here will have been a shock, and I want to provide information for you to understand. We have suspects in custody. Some may shock you, I’m afraid, but our job is to understand why and how this crime came to be.”

“What crime? I know drugs were found in my system that I’ve never taken consciously before.” He regretted it instantly. He made a mental note to only share information when asked.

“Ok. Let’s take you through what we know.” Penhaligon took out her pocketbookand phone and began. “We believe you were central to a major drug trafficking operation. Nominated by those involved to take responsibility for orchestrating the entire process if it were to be executed successfully. You were heavily drugged with a new strain of LSD to maintain your compliance and ensure isolation from your life. My team had long been suspicious of a Christian Hollingsworth, but in the run-up to your disappearance, further concerns and intelligence charged our investigation forward. Jamie I have to tell you that Richie Gould was responsible for setting you up to be removed from your life. I understand you had a friendship. I am sorry. Hollingsworth we mentioned. One more name I need to mention is Gordon Hewitt. Hewitt has been identified as the individual who put your name forward for Hollingsworth’s operation.” Penhaligon paused. She was intense, but Jamie could see a sympathy in her eyes.

He knew the Hollingsworth name but couldn’t completely place it. He couldn’t shout. Scream. He’d done that for Dean. He felt a sense of violation. Complete betrayal. An unfortunate sense of deja vu. He’d been betrayed and used in the past. Some things never change. He saw his kindness just thrown back in his face again; every time he gave it out into the world, it was always the same except for Dean Arden-Archer. He was different. Maybe he should have almost been expecting to end up in a situation like this. Dean was the only person who never did throw it back in his face. Another epiphany. Each one was making him stronger and stronger but even more nervous. Dean would only attend out of the goodness of his heart and not to take him home. He moved the worries gently to one side for a moment. Back to the investigation at hand.

With a furtive huff, he vowed right there and then to protect himself for the rest of his life. He refused to give energy to the names listed. They were dead to him already. He focused. Imagining Dean by his side. “It’s true. I had a friendship of sorts with Mr. Gould, and I’ve known Mr. Hewitt for years through my husband’s superior at his place of work.” He didn’t divulge the relationship between Hugo and Gordon. Hugo hadn’t done wrong from what he’d heard so far, so there was no reason. If it came up, it came up.

“Thank you for clarifying. Your phone has been taken in as evidence. It’s been workshopped with an aftermarket GPS scrambling device. This was used to cut your contact with your family and friends. I…”

Jamie became angry. They were still talking about these awful people. “Sorry, officer.” He snapped in a way he hoped was acceptable when doing so at a high-ranking police officer. “I know this is all important, but I really don’t know anything, and this information means nothing to me. Do you know anything about my husband at all, please?”

“Of course. I understand. Yes, Dean is safe. We’re keeping contact and locations restricted due to more individuals involved. He is safe, however. I can share more as soon as I can. We need to be confident we’ve neutralised any further suspects.”

“I’m sorry. You’re making this sound like some government conspiracy or something.” Jamie let out a nervous laugh and wrung his hands together.

“Well, that’s because it is. To put it bluntly. It is.” Penhaligon responded without a flinch at the gravity of what she was divulging.

Jamie felt even more exhausted all of a sudden. “I’m sorry, officer, I mean ma’am, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. My husband has to frog-march me to the voting booth, to be honest. How the hell is the government involved in my situation?”

“Jamie, call me Tabitha. We’ll be in touch a lot in the coming weeks.” Jamie smiled despite the impending news. He’d gotten to her too. He had to stop himself from being cheeky. “Further suspects involved, not directly related to your disappearance, were the Home Secretary, the Mayor of London, and the Met Commissioner. This is a complex and wide-reaching investigation where we’re having to onboard MI5 and MI6, potentially Interpol.”

Jamie gawped. “You can’t be serious? Surely. Tabitha, is this actually happening?” He went cold. The suspects, his apparent disappearance, and the drugging—it was so absurd he wasn’t sure he was going to laugh or have one of Dean’s panic attacks. His body was so weak he simply absorbed every ridiculous detail.

“Happened. Past tense. We stopped it. This brings me to your extraction.” Penhaligon was so sure the investigation was moving in the right direction she didn’t even feel the need to look up from her notebook.

“My extraction? Where was I? What does that mean?” Jamie felt like he was being nailed in his place. Each new development making him too stunned to move.”

“You were removed from a location in the city. I’ll provide more details on this in the coming days. I must be fully honest; it wasn’t my officers that removed you. It was your brother-in-law.”

“Henry?” Jamie frowned. He hadn’t given Lee any thought in months.

“No. Lee Archer. We’re still putting together the connection to how that came to be, but he essentially got you out of there. Survived gunfire and got you here with the assistance of one of my inspectors.” Tabitha had no idea how significant saying that name was.

“Lee? Lee saved my life?” Jamie stumbled over his words and sat up at the news.

“For want of a better phrase. Yes. He put himself in huge danger, but he was extremely lucky or stupid.”

Jamie stared into the room and covered his mouth. Something began to swim over his body. Gratitude maybe, but definitely a shedding of all the anger he held for him. “Lee. He’s not stupid. He’s brilliant.” Jamie said as much to himself as he was correcting Tabitha.

“I’ll be in touch with more details in the coming days. I’m encouraged by your recovery, Jamie. Please be assured Dean is safe and cooperating also. We’ll arrange for him to visit as soon as we can.”

“Does he want to? Has he said he wants to?” The prospect charged Jamie with excitement and trepidation.

“I sense things were not brilliant between you before the abduction?” Tabitha squinted at him.

“Not entirely. I wasn’t brilliant, to be more specific.” The smile fell away.

“Well, I haven’t sat with Dean to discuss your marriage; with all due respect, we haven’t been and won’t be able to. However, I do know he was absolutely beside himself with dread as to what may have happened to you. Jamie, speaking off record, don’t put too much energy into dwelling on a fallout prior to this ordeal. Put that into getting well. Cooperating with us, and above all else, you’ll need to support Dean as much as he will need to support you. He’s been through a lot as well.”

“If he’ll let me. I don’t know. I could have actually ruined my marriage. An apology text is all that is holding us together at the moment.”

“I can’t offer further assurances, but maybe this is something that you both need to discuss rather than with a middle-aged organised crime commander. I’ll be in touch. Take care.” She grabbed her belongings and was gone.

July 4th, 2021

On the Tuesday, Penhaligon called Dean. “Dean, Tabitha. I appreciate your patience while we neutralise further suspects and chase leads, but I do think that it is time you visited Jamie. I think it will be good for him and you, of course. I’m no marriage therapist, but he seems frantic with nerves that your marriage is in trouble. Not something I’m going to enter into the investigation, but I thought you should have an indication of where he’s at, considering we’ve kept you from him.”

“Try and stop me from seeing him. I just want him home.” Dean gripped the phone tightly. He felt guilty that Jamie felt so desperate. It did mean he still wanted him. Their marriage. Their life. They’d have work to do, but he was willing, and it seemed Jamie was too. Knowing he was in distress over not being able to see him was mildly comforting in a way. He needed to get to him to take that awful uncertainty away. For both of them.

“I’ll liaise with my DI, Terry Bates. I believe you’re already acquainted, but would you attend tomorrow morning? I understand Jamie is still on pain medication, so he may be drowsy from time to time or sleeping. Dean, he’s been through a lot, so please don’t be shocked when you see him.” She was always direct and matter-of-fact. What was the worst possible turn of events for most was completely run-of-the-mill to her, but sympathy slipped in.

Dean dug his thumb into his wedding ring; a dull bubbling pain began. The distance from Jamie. The thought that someone would lay a hand on him and cause such pain made him have to swallow a roar deep down. “Thank you for everything. I’ll need to drop back to our apartment on our way to the hospital if that can be arranged. I need to take a couple things into Jamie.” He wasn’t about to set eyes on Trouble without his rings.

“Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll meet you, as I’d like to take you both through more details of the investigation. Be careful with what you say to him; he won’t and never will remember what he went through, and he isn’t aware of how Plutus is connected. Let me steer that side of things. Just focus on your marriage.”

They ended the call. For the first time in weeks, Dean felt light on his feet as reuniting with Trouble was getting closer and closer.

5th July, 2021

The morning was already warm. London in the summer was stifling. Dean hadn’t noticed. He had only one thing on his mind. He couldn’t think of anything else but getting to see Trouble. Hold him. Take his pain away. Tell him he’ll do better. Tell him he got lost in making life perfect again but ultimately didn’t see Jamie spiralling. Tell him he loved him and that although he broke Jamie’s heart all those years ago, not to break his now. To tell Jamie that he was stronger than himself. Jamie always was stronger. It took strength to stay so delicate and kind. Jamie was his absolute centre. The sun he orbited. His beacon. Always.

Lee joined Dean as Bates drove. Lee was quiet. Focused on a reunion of his own. They diverted to the apartment, and Dean scrambled for the closet to grab the rings from the safe. He wrapped them in his palm and kissed it. “I’m coming for you, baby. We’ll get through this. I know it. Trouble and Big Boy are back.” He bounded back to the car.

The ward was quiet. Doctor Stevens met Dean as he walked in. “I’m going to leave you to it.” Lee grabbed his shoulders.

Dean was overcome with emotion; his voice broke. “Yeah. Ok. I’ll, uh, catch up with you later.” He was nervous. Tears bulging in his eyes. Waves of love, relief, sadness, anger, and uncertainty of what Jamie may feel. He remembered the text from Jamie the night he disappeared; there was hope, but time had passed, and he couldn’t stake his marriage on a text message.

“Mr. Arden-Archer? Doctor Caroline Stevens. I’ve been caring for Jamie since he was admitted.” Doctor Stevens’s face was kind. Dean felt a little more at ease. “I know this is overwhelming, but I think the best medicine is for you to see each other. He’s not stopped talking about you.”

“Thank you for everything. I hope he’s happy to see me.” Dean began to stumble on his words. “Sorry, I’m a wreck at the moment.”

She grabbed his hand reassuringly. “You’re doing just fine. Both of you are. He’s sleeping at the moment but should wake soon. Don’t be alarmed by the bruising to his face. He’s also recovering from abdominal injuries but will make a full recovery.”

“My boy. Jesus.” Dean wiped his eyes. “How could anyone harm him?”

“Awful people who I’m sure are being held to account. But Jamie’s in good hands here, and he needs you. That’s the best medicine, a face you long to see. We’ll leave you to it. In you go.” Doctor Stevens and a group of nurses huddled just behind, looking on at him with happy eyes.

“Thank you. All of you. Ok. Let me at him.” Dean turned for Jamie’s room.

Dean slipped through the door delicately. A solid lump in his throat. Nervous still. These were fresh nerves. Like he hadn’t felt for years. Like he had when he first set eyes on him all those years ago. Stealing glances up at his face. Even now. That beautiful face. Always almost twitching to smile, joke, say lovely things, and say the things no one else had the balls to say. He felt privileged to be in Jamie’s presence every day. Now, he lay sleeping. A quiet Jamie. Still, Jamie. A stark reminder of what he’d been through. He saw past the IVs, the bruising, the silence, and the gown that he knew Jamie would have tried to make more fashionable in the lonely hours needing to entertain himself. The thought made him giggle silently. Then he sobered.

Something instinctive kicked in. The rawest role of a husband, a partner. To simply be there in that moment of absolute vulnerability and rawness. A quiet came over him. He glided to Jamie. The anger, the want to beat those who did this to a pulp, calcified, and he used it to give Jamie strength. He hoped. Every kiss, word, and touch from here on in would be a transfer of strength from him to Trouble. Getting him well again. This was the ‘through sickness’ part. Right in front of him. He found Jamie’s left hand and held it. Rubbing the space where his rings should always have been. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled the rings out. Considering them for a moment. His mind wandered to that day. Jamie looking like a prince from some other world. Too perfect for this one. That’s how he ended up here. Dean scrunched his eyes shut at the thought. He picked up Jamie’s hand and slid the rings onto the finger. Back where they should always be. He leaned forward and whispered, “I’m here, Trouble. I’m here. Big Boy is here.” He kissed his forehead and retreated, but a grip of his hand stopped him, and he smiled.

Jamie’s eyes fluttered open. That voice. He knew that voice. He loved that voice. The voice he would seek out in any room, and everything would be ok again. He sought it out in this room, and there it was, and he hoped with every ounce of energy he had left and a love as strong as it was when it was realised in Paris ten years before that everything would be ok again. “Dean.” Jamie whispered. He wanted to give more, but his body was exhausted.

Jamie’s eyes met Dean’s. He fell in love all over again. Satellites locking on their star. Dean was above him. The presence of this magnificent man. The profile. The prospect of that weight on him again. He hoped Dean would want to lie on top of him again. The eyes that were so kind it was almost heartbreaking. Lips so soft that it was almost at odds with the man that Dean was. The planes of his face. Equal, almost symmetrical, a statue with a heart. His, he still hoped. He hoped. He hoped. He hoped.

Jamie crumbled. Blurting out everything he’d pent up over the days that came before despite his exhaustion. “Dean, I’m so sorry. I almost discarded you. Us. I honestly had no clue what happened before waking here, though, a few days ago. You have to believe me.” He paused and shuffled to push himself up. Dean pushed him back, and Jamie clung to his arm. He thought Dean may be pushing him away. That he really didn’t want anything more from their marriage, but being so kind, he had to visit. The thought made Jamie spiral further. “You have to believe me. You have to fucking believe me!” Jamie clawed at his arm. Dean pushed himself to sit beside him. Pushing him further into the bed. Almost restraining him.

“Baby. Sssh. Sssh. I believe you. I never doubted that I did. We hit some black ice. That’s ok. What happened after is nothing you had control over. I can’t…” Dean trailed off, and this time Jamie jumped to assure him.

“I’m here now. You won’t get rid of me that easily.” Jamie teased as much as his tired mind would allow.

Dean pounced on him. Wrapping his arms around his body. Tight. Jamie was shocked but held him. It was usually him who pounced. The suddenness of Dean collapsing on him made him realise again how much worse this could have all been. “I almost lost you. I was so fucking scared. I didn’t want to be here without you. I’ll do better too. Be more present for you. I promise. Oh Jesus, I can’t imagine not being with you.” Dean shook and wept.

Jamie gulped. This Dean, this most vulnerable, was new. Wounds were harder to locate and treat when they were in the heart and mind. Jamie brushed his cheek. “We’re ok. You’re ok. Come here. I promise too.” His eyes drifted over Dean’s cheek. He frowned. “Who hurt you?”

Dean retreated. For some reason he felt shame. A shame that Jamie had no clue of the damage he’d caused unintentionally. It wasn’t him. Treating others with such disregard wasn’t Jamie. That was what was so cruel about what had happened. “You.” He whispered he couldn’t look at him.

Jamie bolted up and shook him. “What do you mean? I’d never harm you.” His face fell slack in disbelief. Jamie looked at his hands, unable to believe he was capable of anything like that. “My rings. They’re back.” He frowned. Piecing together how this came to be. “My god, did I hit you with them and tell you our marriage was over? Please tell me I’m wrong.” Jamie fell against him, gripping his arm.

Dean grabbed him, biting down on his lip so hard. He realised this was going to be the toughest time for them to navigate together. But that was the most fundamental point. They were together, and they would navigate it; it would take time, but he knew they could do it. Jamie was strong. He’d taught him that. To be the strong man he always was. “There’s so much to tell, but I know it wasn’t you speaking. Babe, there are going to be parts of your disappearance we’re going to be finding answers to over time, but some we might never. You visited me on Thursday night. Under the influence of that shit. You told me it was over and threw your rings at me. Not before hitting me across the face. I was fighting for our marriage with someone I didn’t even know.” The recounting of that haunting meeting made Dean sick with sadness. He swallowed it down. He had to pull Jamie through this.

Jamie put his hand to his mouth. Terrified of actions and words that were carried out by his body and he had no idea. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe all of this. Dean, you know I would never say something like that. Why would I? It took me twenty-four years to feel seen and heard. Understood. Loved for who I am. I’d never throw that away. I fight it sometimes, but you know why. I love you. Us. You’re everything. You’re my Atlas. You hold up my sky.” Jamie felt the power of the words he’d written; they needed to be said. It was true. Dean held up his world, and no matter how much it could pain and exhaust him at times, Dean carried on, pushing, supporting, and loving. Jamie felt guilt again at rebelling against something he’d found that was almost sacred, it was so rare.

“I missed your words, the way you articulate the world. I don’t know if I do hold up your sky, but I do try. I hope it’s good enough for you.” Dean was always questioning his ability in their marriage. On the pitch and in the boardroom, he was confident and dynamic, but his marriage, his proudest achievement, made him sick with inadequacy from time to time. Jamie was there most of the time to stop him from spiralling too. “I will always wonder. You’re not like anyone else.”

Jamie stroked a hand over Dean’s hairline. “You’re absolutely enough. More than enough. Yes, I’m hard-work, emotional, intense, stubborn, and chaotic, but you always said you’d take all parts of me on. What I have come to realise is that I should compromise. Not just expect you to deal with the madness. I’ll do better, too. Imagine I hadn’t had the chance to tell you. I’ll tell you every day how magnificent you are.”

“Another chapter then?” Dean grabbed his chin and kissed him. Jamie gasped. He would never tire of the way Dean was with him.

“You bet. Although I’m starting to think that this book should be a series, there are so many chapters, and I just know there’s more for us to write. Together. Equally involved in what our life looks like.”

“I agree. How about this?” He grabbed Jamie’s hands. “I’ll agree to be more involved in your colourful world if you agree to be a little more present in my slightly beige and quiet one? It’s never been a question of us drifting apart, but we do need to work at our marriage, and that can’t stop.” He couldn’t believe he was using Lee’s words. “To work at a marriage isn’t admittance of failure; it’s where the commitment comes in. If you want to work hard at it, then that’s all that really matters. It’s so much more delicate than perhaps we gave it credit for.”

“Absolutely. We need to keep our hands tight and jump into it when we’re both ready to. Just like you agreed on that terrace in Paris all those years ago.”

“Essaie de m’arrêter. Problème.” Dean mumbled ‘try and stop me, Trouble’ bashfully. Looking down at their hands still tight.

Jamie grinned. Even in his medicated state, the way the French rolled off Dean’s tongue made his toes clench. “Don’t do that to me.” He huffed with hunger he couldn’t satisfy.

Dean just flashed his sexy smile, knowing exactly what he was doing.

Another bedside was being visited. Lee sat quietly with Drew and proceeded to do so every day over the days that followed.

He’d read him art reviews from Apollo and read new developments in law in the fields of youth and social care from The New Law Journal.

Drew always sat and listened with a comforting smile as Lee took him through his work. They were worlds apart professionally, but they had an admiration for each other’s passions in those quiet moments in Lee’s apartment. Lee hoped they’d be able to continue what they admired about each other when he woke. Hope. All he had in those excruciatingly long hours while Drew was sedated and fighting.

He’d run out of pages of text and find himself having a conversation with Drew. Lee of the past would have scoffed at the idea of having a conversation with someone who could not respond—pathetic, almost—but this new Lee found solace in just even having a one-sided conversation with him. Being with him was all he cared about. Willing him to sit up, open his eyes, forgive him, and call him Tiger again. The thought kept him there. Anchored to the chair every day. Even if Drew were to reject him in the end, he’d make peace with the time he had with him. Those precious hours.

When he ran out of conversation through exhaustion, he’d daydream of a life with Drew. Fearing he wouldn’t want it when he woke, but at least he could imagine for now.

Guilt washed over him with every hour he sat, staring. Scanning. Surveying. Did he see a flinch or a twitch? Did Drew perhaps on some level know he was there? Was it a subtle protest at his presence, or was it what Lee hoped for, a subtle celebration that he was with him, and that was the only signal his body gave him? He continued to hope. And hope.

He had to have the opportunity to mend that heart again, if Drew would let him. Give him a second chance that Lee himself was painfully aware he may not deserve. Despite everything.

While Drew rested, he took leave from his bedside and wandered into the hall days later. All signs were reassuring doctors that Drew would wake soon, and he would be able to be the view he hoped Drew wanted when he opened his eyes.

In the meantime, he had to speak to Jamie. Despite his actions, he still had a visceral need to apologise.

He met Dean at Jamie’s door.

“I fully appreciate that you’ve had little time together, but would it be possible for me to have some time with…”

Dean was outside Jamie’s door. Exhausted, but a peace cloaked him. Lips that had been tightened almost white for days now softened into a cautious smile. He didn’t say a word; he looked up at his brother and pushed the door open and nodded. Lee tapped his shoulder in thanks.

“Oh, there you are.” Jamie beamed as Lee walked over to him cautiously. Jamie opened his arms, so Lee reciprocated. He felt like he saw Jamie properly for the first time. His dynamism, his strength. Despite his situation, Jamie still commanded the room. His energy was like another being in the room with them. He was sharp. Welcoming. Forgiving. Again, Lee hoped. He finally realised he was fearful of Jamie all those years because he was everything he was scared to be. Loud. Love hard. Curious about the world around him. Not a care in the world for others impressions of him. So completely himself.

“Lee Archer. You saved my life. I’ll spend the rest of it grateful for you every day.” They delicately embraced. Jamie held him. Lee stayed. Jamie frowned; a hug from Lee was as clinical as a handshake after a deal was closed in a boardroom. Not anymore.

“Jamie, I’m sorry for it all. My actions. My attitude toward you.” Lee still held him. Whispering.

Jamie pushed him back to look at him. “Don’t. Forget it.” Jamie held his shoulders, hoping the grip would make his words sink in. “You saved me. There is nothing else to say. You’re a brilliant and brave man, and I’m honoured to call you my brother-in-law.”

“Only if you’re sure. Jamie I was always at odds with your approach to life, everything. Now I realise how fucking freeing it is to just grab at life in handfuls. Thank you for that.”

Jamie’s wicked grin came over his lips. “It is a little amusing. You could have just apologised. But you go and do something so bloody dramatic like saving my life to prove your point. You’re such a drama queen.” Jamie tapped his shoulder playfully.

“Oh, fuck off.” They fell together laughing.

Dean looked on through the door. A sense of pride and utter peace was running through him.

Lee spoke with Jamie of his history with Drew and how he came to be a member of Khonsu. How he made the connection between Gordon and where he was being held.

He spoke in nervous bursts, waiting for a judgemental comment to come from Jamie. It never came. Lee realised this was why Dean and Jamie stood the test of time. They didn’t have kindred personalities or shared interests, but their values as human beings were absolutely exactly the same. When you take everything else away, that’s what is left. It came down to it in those days that had passed. Nothing could break them because they valued the human experience in the exact same way. Loving deeply. Cherishing family. Supporting friends. Appreciating how their success could better others and not just themselves. Working hard to the point of exhaustion because the fruits of their labours could and would be happily shared with those they loved.

His realisation was quickly interrupted as Jamie bolted up in bed and slapped his arm. “Oh my god! We can double date!”

Lee rolled his eyes and laughed. “Never change, Jamie.” He paused, and his thoughts went back to Drew and the possibility that he could be waiting for nothing but dismissal. “If he wants to be in a relationship with me where double dating will actually be a possibility.”

“You love him, right?”

“Correct.”

“You treated him badly? Right?”

“Thank you for the reminder, but again, correct.”

“Sorry. But you did. He’s still orbited your life all these years since, despite being pretty much held captive by that monster of a human being.”

“He did.” Lee sighed.

“That means something. You’re unfinished. And he’s really fucking hot, so you have to get back with him. Just for you to know, it’s the only reason I married your brother.” Jamie laughed.

“He is, uh, yeah, as you say…”

“Lee? No one is going to come in here and take you away to an asylum for saying the man you love is hot. You can actually say it. I won’t tell.” Jamie played, but there was sincerity in his words. He wanted to make Lee comfortable being proud of who he was in love with.

Lee got up. “You’re right. Yes, he’s really fucking hot.” Jamie clasped his hands to his mouth and laughed again. It was a tonic to be able to hear laughter from himself and everyone else.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Dean returned.

“Hi babe, oh nothing, we’re just discussing how hot Drew is.” Jamie flashed a teasing smile at him.

“He is, huh?” Dean couldn’t help but giggle along.

“Don’t get jealous, Big Boy. Just an observation.” Jamie teased.

“Well, he’s off limits anyway.” Lee said proudly with arms splayed.

They all continued to giggle and joke. In ten years it was the first natural and genuine conversation the three of them had.

Lee still hoped Drew would wake and want him back.

July 7th, 2021

That day came. Lee was silent and held Drew’s hand. He felt a twitch. Life. The hand in his began to grip, as if searching for what it was holding. Lee flushed all over. Nerves again. But he’d weaponised the nerves into determination to do the right thing. Dean’s words, “you’re fucking it up,” made him grip Drew’s palm harder; this time there was a sureness, almost a tug and a gasp. Drew woke.

Drew’s beautiful brow furrowed before his eyes burst open, dancing over the room, and those marbles of hazel fell on Lee. Lee wanted to turn away; he didn’t feel worthy of looking at them. But he bit his lip, blinking tears. Drew spoke. “Ti, Tiger? Is that you?”

“Yes, it is. You’re ok. You’re safe.” Lee pulled Drew’s hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. He gasped and cried. Relief. Love.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again. I didn’t think I’d wake up again. I’m glad I did. Aren’t you a sight to wake up to after being shot?” Drew chuckled through a strained whisper. Lee smiled hopelessly. The words were at the tip of his tongue.

“Drew, I’m sorry. I fucked up. Ran scared. You saved my family. I…” Lee stuttered. He knew what he needed to say; it wasn’t a case of shying away this time; it was the pent-up years of regret that made him have to think about getting this right. Drew knew how to coax it out of him. Something Lee always fought against rather than seeing that he was just pulling out a part of him he was always afraid would make him weak. Or at least appear so.

Drew’s face was soft. He knew Lee knew what he needed to hear for them to close one torrid chapter and begin their next. Drew longed for this chance again. He had spent time over the years wishing Lee was in turmoil. He wished he was missing him. Wishing he felt guilty. Only because he wanted what he knew Lee wanted deep down, too. It was true. Lee didn’t shut him down through coldness and disregard for him. He did absolutely run scared.

They were just on either side of a thin piece of glass. Almost there. Crack it delicately, and it was gone. Drew didn’t wonder in that moment if saving Jamie was the push Lee needed to be sat at his bedside. It was the fact he was there. Despite what had happened. He was here when his family was reeling. That was a testament to Lee’s honesty with himself. That’s what Drew misunderstood back then. Innocently. When Lee said he needed time and needed to stay quiet, maybe he wasn’t as accommodating as he’d reasoned with himself for years after. London was rubble for them and everyone around them in that moment. This was the time to rebuild what they didn’t allow themselves the time or the understanding to before. This was peacetime after war.

Drew sighed. “Lee. Tell me what I need. I know you know what to say. I know you’re ready now.” Drew pulled on Lee’s hand. A request. It was hoarse. Desperate but defiant. If that wasn’t love, then what the hell was? First conscious breaths, asking someone to love you as you always had them.

“I love you. I love you. I always did. I love you. I…” Lee got up and moved to him. Kissing him softly on the lips. He breathed out with relief as that beautiful brow brushed his.

“I love you too. Again.” Drew smiled. His wide, boyish smile. Cheeky and kind. Lee fell in love again and again and again.

Dean walked past the door and giggled.

“Well, that only took you how many years?” Drew teased. It felt wonderful. He stretched his arms through to his fingers and his legs down through his toes before his gunshot wound in his abdomen reminded him of where he was. “Ah shit.” He grimaced.

Lee jumped to him.

“I’ll be ok. No sudden movements for me for a while.” Drew’s eyes flashed at Lee’s, who was frozen in a concerned frown.

“Don’t joke. This is serious. We have to get you well.”

There it was. The ‘we’ Drew had been searching for for years. Now so natural and sure when it flew out of Lee’s mouth and filled the room.

Later that day word had gotten back to Penhaligon that Drew was conscious and able to speak.

“Drew Green? Commander Penhaligon. I’m glad to see you recovering. You’ve had quite the ordeal. I need to record a statement from you, and we will require full cooperation from you in relation to our investigation. Your partner, Christian Hollingsworth, remains in…”

“Former. Former partner. And I am fully prepared to cooperate. The sleeping pill I…” Drew’s eyes darted to Lee. He was expecting a recoil, but Lee just continued to look at him with support in his eyes. The reflection made Drew stutter.

“Of course. I wanted to get a preliminary explanation for that. There’s no time like the present. I will record this testimony, provided you give consent.”

“Of course. I have nothing to hide.” Drew pulled himself up and winced.

“Do we have to do this right now? You can see he’s in pain.”

“Yes. Drew, carry on.” Penhaligon was curt. She had her job to do and was still under obligation to assess the depths of Drew’s and Peter’s involvement and potential complicity and consider if arrests were to be made.

“It’s ok.” Drew held Lee’s hand in assurance. Lee huffed down further protests. “Ok, Thursday night, that was the first night I had any real idea what Christian was doing. You have to believe I had no clue what this was. I knew deep down something was happening, but the way Christian controlled me, I was isolated. He demanded I create paintings for those he was close with. Maybe an insurance policy should things fall apart? And here they are.”

“So you’re responsible for the paintings?”

“Yes. I couldn’t decline. Officer, Christian is extremely dangerous to everyone around him. The word no just didn’t apply to him. I…” Drew tightened his lips. He’d said too much. He thought he’d never have to air this part, but as Christian had done before, here he was, trapping Drew again.

“You had a relationship with him. Do you mean there were issues around consent?” Penhaligon spoke slowly. Knowing the gravity of what she was asking.

Drew’s eyes went from Penhaligon to the wall. He didn’t want to look anyone in the eye. Lee couldn’t take it. He pulled his hand back. He held his hand over his face and stormed out. “Jesus fucking Christ,” stumbling to the door.

“Lee? What’s happened?” Dean was passing.

“Oh my god. This just gets worse and worse. Can I really handle this? I deal with all manner of horrific things in the courts, but when it’s someone close to you, it’s a different point of view.”

“Can you tell me what’s happened?”

“There’s further information about Thursday night.”

Dean stiffened. Anything more that Jamie possibly went through would make the anger he was already wrestling with combust into an uncontrollable rage. He shoved it to the back of his mind for his brother. “Ok. Can you tell me? Don’t shut down on me. Come on.”

“He’s talking about it now, but the officer brought up the question of consent in the relationship. I…”

Dean knew instantly what the rest of Lee’s sentence would be. He was gentle. He held his brother’s shoulders. The silence was a sad truth. Dean filled it delicately. “You can handle this. You have to. For him. Go back in there and hold him up. This is the relationship part, Lee. You hold them up even if what they’re saying or going through is tearing you apart inside. I’m so sorry.” He pushed his forehead against Lee’s.

Lee straightened and breathed sharply. “You’re right. He needs me. This is for us to navigate together. I’ll tell you what I can.” Lee turned and slipped back inside.

Dean watched on proudly as his brother went back to the role he was the most inexperienced at among the brothers. He was the eldest. Arguably the most intelligent. The keeper of protocol and doing things right. And here he was learning to swim in a new sea as a partner to a man who’d been to the darkest depths. He knew he could do it.

Dean and Jamie were sitting talking. All smiles and playful hands on each other when Commander Penhaligon appeared later.

“Sorry to interrupt. Can I have five minutes with you both?” Penhaligon didn’t wait for an answer. Dean jumped to attention on his feet, and Jamie recoiled subtly. “Ok, so Drew Green has given me a statement and clarified a few areas. Drew administered the sleeping medication, one of his own, on Thursday evening. Hollingsworth instructed him to administer a further dose of the LSD cocktail, but he knew who you were at this point and couldn’t go through with the demand. He gave you the pill to keep you subdued until he had an opportunity to remove you. That’s when Lee comes into the picture. I’m of the thinking to NFA this crime. Because, Jamie, this is a crime. You were administered a prescription medication that was not your own while unable to make a decision whether to take this or not. However, as CCTV footage attests, Mr. Green was taking action to have you removed.”

Jamie blinked fast. Holding the duvet around his chest. He glanced over at Dean, who was now looking at the floor. “Drew was doing what he could to keep me from harm as best he could. I wouldn’t even want to pursue charges myself. What kind of person would that make me? Thanks for taking a bullet for me, but I want you arrested? No way. Seems like there are more good people in the world than I thought.”

Dean looked up and chuckled.

“Thank you, Jamie. I appreciate your views. I’ll review with the CPS, but I’m fairly confident they will agree. Dean, the Plutus involvement is being brought under our investigation while we work with regulators as well. I understand you’ve been given leave, but it is likely you’ll need to be available.” Dean smiled weakly and nodded. “Gordon Hewitt admitted to a relationship with Hugo Grosvenor, CEO of Plutus. Any light you can shed on that may help. Also, the link between Gordon and you, lies with Dean’s father, Mark.”

“Pardon me? How many more people are involved in this?” Jamie froze again.

“Mark Archer employed Gordon as an accountant out of Manchester University while Dean’s grandfather was still CEO of Archer Logistics. He was allowed to walk following a case of fraud. Mark’s decision. No charges brought. He had a long-standing obsession with wealth and believed almost pathologically that families such as the Archers were everything wrong with the world. He made a new life for himself in London. Anyway, we could dissect and hypothesise on wealth and capitalism endlessly, but that isn’t for now. A long standing grudge it would seem. Jamie, you’re out of it now, and your families are. Dean is cooperating with the Plutus investigation, but it’s over. There will likely be a government inquiry, and expect a vote of no confidence and a general election in the coming weeks. Anyway, that’s for Westminster to hash out.” Jamie was gobsmacked. Dean just as much. Like fish stranded on the shore.

Tabitha continued. She must have become immune to reactions on the faces pulled by victims when they were being given the full details of what they’d been through. “We’re continuing the investigation, but you’ll likely see less of me before you’re discharged. And the trial will almost definitely require both your presences. Taking my police officer hat off for a moment, I must commend your corporation. And yours, Dean. This has been a lot to process. We’ll continue to be in touch in the coming months. I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything further, contact me or DCI Bates.” She gathered her large leather tote and left.

“Shit. I told her you have to force me to vote most years. And I’ve inadvertently and unconsciously brought down the government. And what the fuck is up with Plutus? I knew Gordon and Richie were involved, but how much further does this web reach?” Jamie held his arms out for an answer. One Dean couldn’t give, so he just laughed with incredulousness.

“I have no words for any of it. But your Big Boy did get cautioned for assault. This loveable hulk can cause quite the scene when he’s on the edge.” Dean came and placed his arms on either side of Jamie. He was done having their time dominated by these events. He wanted Jamie to himself. Wrapping himself around him gave Jamie the signal, a subtle hint to change the subject or can I get my leg over you?. The latter was out of the question, so he pursued the assault. He was almost laughing at the conversations they were having.

“Oh, did he?” Jamie kissed both sets of Dean’s knuckles. “Did you hurt yourself?” Jamie whispered with heavy eyes and moved his legs apart. “Babe, I don’t know how long I’ll take to let you near me that way. I want you to have me, but I just can’t give you all of me right now.”

“Couple of things. Elections aren’t every year; they’re not the Met Gala. And no, they don’t happen on the first Monday of May routinely, either.” He held a palm to Jamie’s mouth, stopping a sarcastic quip from escaping. Jamie kissed his palm. “Secondly, Richie was on the receiving end. Tackled him to the floor when I realised his connection to a cyberattack as part of this whole thing. Wasn’t really a match for me.” Dean shrugged his shoulders. Proud of his actions.

“Don’t torture me with images of you being a hero. You are one, but don’t wind me up. I can’t do anything about it right now. And thank you for the clarification on general election frequency. I’ve thought of nothing else since waking up in here.” Jamie slapped Dean’s shoulder playfully. All he could muster.

“I’ll wait for you. Because you’re my match. You’re the love of my life. You wait for the love of your life. You get them well, and in the end, it’s so worth it.” Dean leaned and kissed his lips. “When you’re ready, you can have me whatever way you want. I’ll have you whatever way I want. Sex to make up for lost time is one of my favourite sports. You know that.” He kissed his nose. “Why else do you think I agree to business trips? So, I’ll wait.” He giggled, knowing Jamie was ravenous deep down. Beyond the bruises. Beyond the pain relief. Beyond everything happening right now. Like some excruciatingly long introduction to what would be a spectacular main event. He curled his toes under the duvet. A quiet release. All he had. He was on God knows how much pain medication, but he felt a flutter in the pit of his stomach and shifted in the bed, biting his lip, remembering the fullness of him deep inside, the hands pushing and pulling his skin and limbs, and those lips lost in their happy place. The weight and power when it was time. It would be a long wait, but their sexual history made it even more painfully worth the torture.

He had to be honest. He gulped his yearnings away. “Seriously though, it really will take time. I’m sorry.” Jamie bowed his head. “I can’t be that version of me right now.”

Dean grabbed his chin. Perfect. Jamie sighed with relief. “Hey. Excuse me? I’m not a single-track-mind monster. My priority is getting you home and well again. Everything else comes later. Literally.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows at him.

“I love you. I’m so sorry for everything again. And where exactly is our home now?”

“I think, on reflection, because of course I’ve not been up to much recently, just foiling a multi-million-pound cyber attack and learning my politically ignorant husband caused the biggest stir in Westminster’s history. But I have found time; I made time to think about us.”

“I’m listening.” Jamie didn’t want to demand they move back to the city full time, but he’d had time to reflect, and although Marlow was beautiful, it didn’t quite fit. He didn’t have the heart to tell Dean because he knew it was a dream of his. Their problems came from living one of their dreams while the other was struggling to adjust. There were worse things to struggle over, but they’d become complacent. Jamie went along with Dean’s dream, and Dean didn’t stop to check that this was something Jamie wanted in equal measure.

“The thing is. We’re different. What’s considered perfect for most. The big house in the country. Flash cars on the drive. Like your favourite pieces of tailoring, you can spend all the money on it, but once it’s on, if it doesn’t quite fit, it’s got to be adjusted. So let’s adjust. I’m happy wherever you are, and you’re happy in the city. I feel like it’s your second husband, and that’s ok. It gives you life and joy. I don’t want to be responsible for stopping that.”

“Oh, Dean, you mean sell up and move back full-time?” Jamie restrained his excitement. Even if it spilt out, he knew he would understand.

“Tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen. Jamie, it’s ok to tell me what you want. You won’t offend or hurt me. I’m a pragmatist; I just want to know.” Dean just wanted him. When everything was said and done, he wanted Jamie. Happy. Well.

“Sell. Put the money somewhere I can’t spend it, and we’ll keep it for the future.” Jamie blurted. He was sure of his decision. It was true. London was his city. Yes, it was almost an abusive relationship at times, but he’d made a family here and met Dean here. His career. His second career. As long as Dean was with him, he didn’t want to leave. Not yet. That’s what it was. He felt rushed to finish a chapter he didn’t think had really finished when they moved before.

“Consider it done.” Dean kissed him. He took every kiss he could get.

In the days that followed, Peter would wake. Corroborating Drew’s statement and the CCTV galvanised their claims without question. Joey returned in a civilian capacity to Peter’s bedside while Peter apologised profusely. Joey didn’t want to hear it. He just wanted him back.

July 12th, 2021

The day came for Jamie to be discharged. He’d spoken with Lee at length about Drew. He wanted to know everything about him, to erase the guilt of years before when he cast aspersions about him when he saw him in that article.

Drew had a knock on the door, and Jamie quietly stepped in with a gift bag. Dressed in Dean’s grey tracksuit. He looked like a teenager.

“Jamie?” Drew shifted upright in his bed. “Jamie I’m sorry for it all. I didn’t know what was happening, and when I saw you, I had to…”

Jamie smiled and came to him. He pressed a finger against Drew’s lips. “Will you stop? I came here to thank you. And to meet you. Warn you about Lee.” Jamie sat by his bed and flashed a grin. Drew let out a stilted laugh. “I did judge you. I didn’t know you then, but I saw an article where you and that piece of shit were photographed together, and I wasn’t kind. I’m retrospectively sorry.”

“Ok. Well pleased to meet you in slightly better circumstances this time. And after these past weeks, please forget any judgement.” Drew was keen to erase any doubt Jamie had over his guilt.

“Back atcha.” Jamie smiled warmly and then sobered a little, like he’d rehearsed what he needed to say. There was now something that inextricably linked them together, and Jamie felt he had to address it with the respect Drew’s actions deserved. “Drew, you’ll be a part of my life forever in more ways than one. I’ll spend my life thanking you for simply existing and Peter. Or Rio, as you knew him.”

“You don’t have to do that. I did what I had to. You didn’t deserve a single moment of what happened to you.”

Jamie got up and pounced for a hug. Drew was the latest victim of Jamie’s abruptly delivered tight and deep hugs. “You’ll be in my heart forever, brother.” Jamie whispered and then retreated, not before kissing Drew on the forehead.

Drew grabbed his hand and fought back tears. “Brother.” He managed in a strain. The sense of something new came over him. Heavy. Breathtaking but completely and utterly wonderful: a family.

“Now. I have a gift for you. No protests. I know you’re an artist, and when you’re well enough, you will paint again for the world to see.” Jamie opened the gift bag and pulled out a wooden presentation box of Old Holland oil paints. “You have the tools to make your craft. I love art of any kind. And I’ll support anyone creatively.” Jamie smiled proudly.

“Oh, Jamie. These cost a fortune. I can’t accept these.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I wanted to share this with you too.” Jamie pulled a flyer out of the bag and passed it to Drew.

“What’s this?”

“A mock up of the ad we’re going to run at Rainbow Roads. Even in the hospital I can’t keep still. I had this created and couriered over this morning. I want you to teach our service users art classes. Give them hope. Focus. A creative outlet. And escape. What you do through art. Pass that gift on.” Jamie grabbed his hand again.

Drew scanned the address. “My god, it’s my…”

Jamie’s eyes went wide with realisation. “You’re the artist who had the space before us? Well, now you’re going back.” He smiled broadly at the serendipity of Drew’s journey back to what he loved. In a place he loved.

Now it was Drew’s turn to grab him for a hug. “Jamie, this is too much. Thank you. Thank you.”

From beyond the door, Lee and Dean were watching with the biggest of grins. Dean put a hand to his brother’s shoulder. “You do know these two are going to ruin our lives?” Dean teased.

“I know. And the best part?” Lee smiled back.

“What?”

“I can’t wait.” They paused and then fell into each other laughing. Silly and unrestrained after weeks of silence, anxious rage, and uncertainty. It felt almost wrong; it felt so good.

“Before I go. Just some advice about Lee. He’s a complicated soul. A deep soul. Stubborn but will do anything for those he loves. Your job will be to remind him every day that being loved and loving is absolutely what he deserves. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Jamie paused before getting up.

“What?”

“Hmmm, that’s the weirdest thing. I just described myself when describing Lee. Maybe we’re not so different after all. Isn’t that a terrifying thought?” Jamie got up and chuckled, his smile spreading at the thought. He knew it was lovely. “Get better. There are family and students waiting for you. Speak soon.”

Jamie left the room, and Drew sank back and smiled as Lee joined him again.

Jamie wasn’t done. He visited Peter next. Dean waited patiently, watching as Jamie sprinkled magic and optimism throughout the ward. He just watched with a goofy smile.

“Peter.” Jamie embraced him. Peter reciprocated.

“Jamie. I am very sorry for it all. I was terrified for myself, and we saw you, and everything began to come to bits. Sorry, I do not have the right words for this.” Jamie admired his grasp of English given the circumstances.

“You don’t need to be sorry for anything. Peter, come back. Work for me at the Arden Agency. You were such a loss. Please. Look.” Jamie went into his kit bag, Nike this time; Dean reasoned he wouldn’t bring Jamie’s expensive luggage to a hospital. He pulled out a folder. “This is a contract of employment. Marketing consultant. Full benefits and salary are outlined for you. Take a look…”

Jamie had no chance to finish. Peter grabbed the folder and flew through the pages to the signing page. Scribbled and handed it back. “When am I to start?”

Jamie laughed. Like they had all those years ago. He saw a man before him now. More sure of what he wanted. Maybe what he’d been through had forced him to mature more than was necessary. Either way, Jamie was impressed. “Uh, maybe you can get well first, and then we can sit down and hammer out dates, etcetera.” Jamie held his hand. “Oh, Peter, I’m never going to be able to thank you enough. You risked your life in there for me. I missed you at Connect and afterward. I knew something was off at the funeral. But you seemed not willing to be talked to. I…”

“Jamie. As you say, I must get well. I want to get back to your work. I will tell you one day, but not now. It is of the past. You are here. Dean is well, I do hope? Drew is making a recovery? All is getting to be ok.” Peter rubbed his hand. He didn’t have the energy to go into the details of the years that took him into Christian and his network’s grasps. Jamie respected him and left it there.

“I understand. Thank god you’re here and Drew. Yes, Dean is well; he’s been in the wars too, but we’ll get there. I’ll leave you to rest, and we shall speak soon.” Jamie got up and walked away. He turned back to Peter and winked at him. “Good to have you back.” He was gone.

They arrived at the front door of the apartment via police escort. Dean had agreed with fellow residents to increase security. Now there was face recognition and fingerprint-enabled access throughout the complex. Jamie spotted the new equipment immediately. “I’ve just gotten out of the hospital, and you’re inflicting new keys and locks on me? Dean, I’m a nightmare with keys as it is.” He giggled, but it was also the truth.

Dean looked at him, proud of his new Fort Knox. “I know that. But these are in addition. You’re not likely to lose your fingertips or your face, are you?”

“Well, on that subject, this face that you adore so much, actually, I did nearly lose.” Jamie snorted a laugh that masked the unease of what could have been.

Dean instantly grabbed him. “Shit, I’m sorry. That was so fucking insensitive of me.” He squeezed Jamie’s head to his chest. Jamie tried to speak from his first meeting with Big Pillow since he could remember.

“Will you stop?” He pushed himself up and grabbed Dean’s jacket in his fists. Smiling. “Just stop. This is all amazing. I was kind of joking. Please don’t beat yourself up over absolute nonsense. Christ, if I can’t poke fun at this in some way sometimes, I’ll go fucking crazy.”

“Ok. I’m sorry for being sorry. Shall we?” Dean pushed the door open, and Jamie went through delicately. He walked into the living area and paused. He turned to meet Dean’s eyes as Dean set down his bags.

“Yeah. This feels like home. You. This place. I feel better already.”

Dean moved to him and kissed his forehead, grabbing his face in his palms. “Welcome home, Trouble.”

The coming days saw Jamie begin to regress. Night terrors consumed their futile attempts at sleep. Dean thanked Helen for her humility; he was exhausted and would never have been able to hold down his job while operating on the level of rest new parents were akin to.

He never resented Jamie for his behaviour during those weeks. He was fighting dark thoughts, paranoia, and nightmares. All Dean could do was protect him physically. So he did. Every night throughout the rest of the summer. Jamie would wake, oblivious to his nightly outbursts. Dean quickly learnt a way to soothe him. Gently pressing his weight over him, anchoring him in the bed, breathing into his neck, maybe subconsciously, in what felt like the depths of despair at night, Jamie knew Dean was with him. Dean would whisper and stroke his head, “Trouble, I’m here. Big Boy is here. I’m here.” Jamie would eventually settle.

July 14th, 2021

Lee approached the room where Drew had been since his admission when a short woman with a pixie cut clasped his door before walking past him, lugging a huge nylon satchel by her side. Their eyes met, and she smiled sharply. Lee went to say something, but she was gone before anything left his mouth.

“Uh, good morning. Who was that? I know I have no right to pry given the past few years, but we’re in a relationship now, and I want to be here for you. Like I always should have been, so actually yes, I am prying.” Lee kissed Drew’s forehead, who was already giggling despite who she was. “And apparently I still make you laugh even when I’m being honest.” Lee slumped into the chair, and a waft of his woody cologne swept over Drew. He breathed in as much as he could.

“You’re so cute.”

“Not a term I’ve heard in years. But I’ll take it. Who was she? I’m a prosecutor; I’ll revisit my line of questioning if I am not satisfied with the answer.” Lee said firmly, with what he hoped was a hint of humour.

“Lee, she’s my support worker. I’m homeless. Everything I had was Christian’s property. Everything has been seized by the police. I was trapped and stupid. She’s helping me find accommodation when I’m discharged.” Drew confessed while trying not to release his shame into the room like a wild beast.

Lee got up, the plastic chair’s legs groaning against the floor. Drew looked puzzled. “Why would you do that? Why would you make contact with social services after we’ve spoken about everything? Why?” There was hurt in Lee’s eyes.

Drew hadn’t seen this impassioned frustration in Lee before. It was endearing as well as heartbreaking. He didn’t want Lee to feel guilty about anything anymore.

“I’m not doing anything that I shouldn’t. I was talking with the doctors; they have a duty to inform them. I can’t help it. I can’t assume people are going to or even want to help me.”

“I’m not people. I’m me. In love with you. You think I’m going to let you go recover in some shithole?”

“Uh, excuse me. One of the proposed shitholes is where my old flat was. But thanks.”

“You know what I mean. You’re coming home with me. For your recovery. For… forever.” Despite their previous conversations, Lee was still a little nervous to approach the notion of ever after.

“Lee, I can’t expect you to do that for me. It’s very sweet. But I can’t.”

“You aren’t. I’m telling you. As your partner. You’re coming home with me. You have a home. With me. Case closed.” Lee was firm, but the command was laced with love, and a protective crackle followed the words as they hung in the air.

“Archer QC, did you just make a joke?”

“Speculation, your honour.”

“Oh, we’re on a roll.” Drew smiled widely. “Come here.” Lee moved to his bedside and held out a hand, still stone-faced.

“Come home with me. Please? You belong in my home. Our home. And I’m ready to take us outside that home when you’re ready. I’m ready. I’m done fucking around.”

Drew could have… “Come here.”

“I am.”

“No, you fucking idiot. Lie with me. I’ve not felt you on me in years.” Lee looked around, ever careful of others impressions. And slid onto the bed next to him. His weight made Drew give out a sigh of satisfaction. “My answer?”

“Go on.”

“Yes.” Drew smiled into Lee’s neck.

Lee jumped off the bed and jumped in the air. Drew burst into laughter. Was this Lee hiding all this time? This goofy idiot who was supercharged by happiness? The Lee he knew fought it. Let it burn, but always put it out when the flame got too wild. Drew couldn’t believe his eyes, and his body prickled with that happiness he saw bounce Lee around the room. Lee came back to him.

“I’ll speak with the doctors to make sure the apartment is set up for you. You won’t want for anything.”

“Lee, stop.”

“Pardon?”

“I just need rest. Nothing more. And once I’m able to figure out how, I want to contribute. This is a relationship, and given my recent history, I quite like the idea of being an equal, finally. I don’t have much; in fact, I have nothing and will be like that for some time. Are you comfortable with that? I know people will say I’m in this for a free ride, but that really isn’t the case.”

“I don’t care about what anyone says or thinks. I don’t care about what you bring financially to our relationship now or in the future. Drew, you turned me inside out, made me realise who I was, and I regret not being strong enough for you. I’m not about to throw that away over a gas bill. Plus you have a family that actually are the kindest and most wonderful people. I’m sure Jamie will show you how to deal with an Archer. He’s had ten years of experience. You have to meet Henry and Emily. They’re boys. Pa and Ma.” Lee began to smile warmly at the thought of the other loves of his life.

Drew was giddy at the idea of a blossoming connection with Lee’s family. “If you’re sure.”

“Of course I am.”

“Get on top of me.”

Lee looked around before moving to Drew again. He didn’t need coaxing this time. He pushed himself delicately. Drew pressed his palm up against his crotch. “What are you…”

“Fuck. I missed this.” Drew plunged his hand into Lee’s trousers. Pulling and clawing at the hot thickness once again. The feel of coarse hair, that supple skin, and wetness. He tugged and tugged.

“Drew, you’re going to make me… shit. Someone might… fuck, keep going. Keep going. I’m gonna…” Lee squirmed, suspended in terror and ecstasy. He wanted Drew to stop, but stopping him meant him stopping this feeling he hadn’t felt in years. An electricity snapping inside him. Sparks clashed with his insides until he released.

“Something to keep you going until I can look after you properly. At home.” Drew kissed his lips. Lee looked down, shook, incredulous. But very satisfied.

He got up and cleared his throat, rushing to zip up his fly. “Something, uh, I better get myself… I’ll be back later. Yeah. Love you. Bye.” Lee was gone.

Before, Drew would have been worried he’d gone too far, but this new Lee seemed curious to push his spontaneity. Drew giggled as much as his wound would allow and smiled for the rest of the day until Lee returned.

By the end of June, Helen Goldsmith arrived at Plutus in Canada Square to put a self-proclaimed champion racehorse out of its misery. Becoming lame in recent weeks.

Hugo knew this moment would come. Sooner or later. His ego had failed him in recent weeks. Finally making him see clearly that his actions, or lack thereof, put Plutus and its reputation in jeopardy. Dean exposed his weakness but only in an attempt to protect their business.

He wasn’t expecting Helen to knock at his door. He smiled slowly as she delivered the news that the board could no longer lend their confidence to him given recent events. Press interest, regulators hammering the door, and police investigations meant the press office was on a war footing. Thankfully, investors were not deterred by the scandal. But in finance, it was absolutely necessary to remove the sources of fire before they caught ablaze.

He’d be stepping down voluntarily and able to retire quietly. He knew it was the end of the road. He’d never admit it vocally, but he knew when Dean burst into the emergency boardroom meeting that day, his days were numbered.

The most profound words Helen had for him before leaving were those that he’d heard ten years before while sharing a cheap cigarette on the fire escape of a members club in the city. “You know, Hugo, you’re a good man, but you’re only as powerful as your army allows you to be. You may be at the helm of this organisation, but you need to remind yourself every day that every single employee under you allows your role to exist. Not the other way round. They stopped trusting you.”

Hugo continued to nod slowly and smile. “I heard those very words years ago. From someone I should have given more credit to.”

“Hugo, you’re a good man, but we can’t ignore the events of recent weeks. No one is blaming you for everything that has unfolded, of course not, but the attempt by Gould exposed an absolute division between you and your senior team. You didn’t see any reason to suspect Hewitt of anything improper, as far as having an affair with him, as you admitted. Perhaps that clouded judgement, too. You let your greed dwarf your actual responsibility as a leader while thinking you were untouchable. Whoever it was who gave you that wisdom all those years ago, you should have perhaps given them that credit.”

“I can’t argue with a single word. Helen, I’m done.”

“You know I think a lot of you, Hugo, but there is too much at stake for too many to sit back and watch. The board has to act, and I wouldn’t be the steward of this business my grandfather asked me to be all those years ago if I sat back and did nothing. We’ll advise division heads of the resignation. A new CEO will be sought in the coming weeks. Go, enjoy life. You let this place poison you.”

Helen left shortly after, and Hugo found himself frantically clearing his desk with a huge smile.

Nestled in the back of her Rolls Royce, burbling away from Canada Square, Helen made a phone call.

Half an hour later Dean dropped his phone on the coffee table. Gawking.

“Babe? Are you ok? You’ve got that look. That panic attack imminent look. One sec, let me grab some water…” Jamie went to get up, but his arm was pulled back to the sofa, and Dean was on him. Kissing him deeply and silently. Jamie pushed away as much as he could. “This is good news, I assume? Will you fucking talk?” He slapped his back.

“Sorry. I just needed that.” He leaned back, still holding Jamie’s hand with a goofy smile on his face. “Uh yeah, it’s good news. That was Helen Goldsmith. Chair of the board. Hugo has resigned, and she’s putting me forward to assume the position of CEO. Pending board and possible shareholder approval.” Dean was always so restrained, even with news of this magnitude. It was up to Jamie to make him realise how huge a deal it was. He didn’t disappoint, even in his delicate state.

Jamie pushed him to the sofa. Squeezing his face. “I’m so proud of you. They’d be crazy not to approve you. You’re brilliant and kind. A natural leader. You’ve got my full support. I wish we had this news when I was better because I’d be racing to that balcony door to scream to the city how proud I am.” He kissed him delicately.

“I’m going to need your support, and I know I won’t even have to ask for it. Thank you for believing in me even when I doubt myself. I think I would have protested against the recommendation if I wasn’t with you. I just know I can tackle anything when you’re here.” They kissed some more and fell into a shocked silence, stealing glances at each other throughout a lazy afternoon and giggling at the monumental news. They’d wait to find out if their lives were about to change again.

Jamie’s night terrors continued. Becoming a little more infrequent, Dean made sure to celebrate their little wins in Jamie’s recovery. Simple gestures were once again sweet and exciting. A pastry on the bedside cabinet for when Jamie woke in the mornings following a more peaceful night. He’d smile softly. An unspoken language of absolute support and encouragement.

Jamie couldn’t commit to any work in the weeks that followed the abduction, and his weakness meant he had to reluctantly sit back and let Dean recite back emails and messages from his talent manager, Dale Rawlings. His enquiries were becoming increasingly frantic. “You know, the whole point of being some kind of social media star is that it’s kind of pay as you go. Post, get paid. They get a cut. Although I’m not really sure what it is they actually do for me. Tell him to give me space. Everyone else has. Even my beautiful team at the agency has practically told me to get lost until I’m ready. The board at Rainbow Roads, too. Funny how those who see you and not a pay cheque are the kindest.” Jamie giggled in bed one morning.

“I like your style, Trouble. I’ll go back to him and tell him to cool off.” Dean assured him. As he always did. What Jamie didn’t see was the meticulous effort with which Dean kept all these plates spinning. He was diplomatic as possible with Dale and grateful to the agency and the charity. Jamie was right, but Dean made sure Jamie could slip seamlessly back into his life when he was ready. “Dale, he’s not ready. Give him time. I won’t have him pestered. What he’s been through was huge and terrifying.”

“I understand that, but we have collaborators queuing up to work with him.”

“Dale, I don’t care. May I remind you that he’s a free agent and can easily put out a statement and name names of these so-called collaborators and shame them if he isn’t left alone to get well? I’m sure none of you want a public fallout. It wouldn’t hurt Jamie’s image. Just yours and theirs. People engage with Jamie as a person, not the products and brands he’s asked to promote; everyone will be very well reminded of that. You’ll all have to wait. That’s the bottom line. I’m more protective over him than I normally am at the moment, and I’ll make no excuses for that. If that’s a problem, you can all fucking sue me.” Dean hung up and huffed. Jamie snuck an ear to the conversation. Absolutely. Completely and utterly magnificent.

Dale was not a bad person but regularly failed to read a situation and persisted like a snappy lapdog. Dean shutting him down would only keep him at bay for a short while. Jamie was convinced Dale just riled Dean up because he enjoyed Dean talking at him with authority. He was a small, pudgy man, more camp than any drag queen he’d ever met. He was sarcastic and full of disdain, but there was a desperation in him that Jamie couldn’t help but feel sorry for. He knew he’d be on the phone again soon.

Dean got to thinking of how he could take the heat out of Dale’s chasing for content to satisfy clients. He was running on empty, but he dug deep. As he always did on the pitch, on the track, at the gym, in the office, and in the playroom at Hen and Em’s, hungover on Boxing Days of previous years when George and Arthur wanted nothing more than to climb their Uncle D mountain. “Don’t apologise. I’ll do whatever it takes to support you. I have an idea; maybe it’s time to make some happiness and tongue-in-cheek moments in all this. Why don’t I create my own account?” He went into the bedroom following the heated exchange.

Jamie’s eyes went wide, and he gasped. “Oh my god, please do. I’ll be your most faithful and perverted follower.” Jamie giggled. He was generous and would happily share Dean with the world. Through an app, at least. The real thing was all his.

In the coming days, it was time for family and friends to see Jamie. Dean wasn’t gatekeeping him from them, but he was cautious to not drop all excitement and fuss in one go. Jamie wasn’t ready to go near a phone just yet, so everything from business to family and friends was channelled through Dean.

Mark and Audrey attended firstly with David and Martha. It was a subdued reunion of sniffles and long embraces. Just sheer relief that this was over. Dean found it ironic that the fathers appeared more unable to handle what had happened than anyone else. David was almost floating in the apartment in a cloud of bewilderment. Not quite believing any of it. Mark apologised profusely to everyone about his past judgement of Gordon, but no one would hear it.

He droned on and on to the point Jamie had to snap as they all sat in the living area, lined up on the sofa in their apartment. “Mark?! Please. Stop blaming yourself for this. With the greatest of respect, neither Dean nor I have the energy to carry anyone else’s feelings right now. You weren’t to know letting him walk without pressing charges would result in what happened to me. People like that are inherently evil and hide behind awfully thin justifications for their actions. Obsessions with generational wealth or whatever it was—fine, be pissed off at the way the world works, but you don’t then become a complete pathological hypocrite by living in and feeding off that world. It’s no one’s fault for his lot in life and from knowing him for all these years, he did very well anyway. Bonuses, cars, houses, and travel. The list is as long as it is decadent. He’s almost a parody of the righteous cause he thought he was fighting. So excuse me, mothers, but absolutely fuck him! The truth is, if he was being a sincere Robin Hood, he wouldn’t have needed to almost succeed in killing me to prove whatever point he was trying to prove. He’s a greedy narcissist who took kindness as weakness, and he’s where he belongs. All of them. I won’t have this subject or those involved brought up in my presence ever again. I almost lost my life and will not let them take up any more of it. And yes, when summoned to trial, I’m waiving my right to join via video link. I’m staring those bastards right in the eye.” Jamie clasped his hands to his lap and smiled at the stunned faces. “I think we need more tea?” He got up.

Dean smiled at him proudly. Mark responded by stumbling over his words; a man who commanded a multimillion-pound company was lost and incoherent. “I’m sorry, Jamie. Think no more of it. And you’re right, no more energy to those awful people.”

“Deal.” Jamie held out his hand, and Mark took it, and they shook. Jamie was stern, and Mark gulped. The room was actually terrified of him. Jamie couldn’t help it and fell into him in a hug, breaking character of sorts. “Oh, for god’s sake, Mark, you know that’s not me. Come here. I won’t have you feel bad about any of this. You have to promise me.” Jamie kissed his father-in-law on the cheek and went into the kitchen.

“You have my word, dear boy.” Everyone roared with laughter. Jamie was healing. Getting stronger and, for the first time, so absolutely sure of his place in this world that he was not going to cloud it with those who served no purpose and brought negativity and harm. He was done. Perhaps he was changed, for the better of, most importantly, himself.

Martha and Audrey rallied like they were running an army. Meals appeared out of nowhere. Tea, all manner of sweet treats, laundry. Neither Dean nor Jamie would have been surprised if they’d nipped down to the garage and serviced the cars for them. The fathers were stunned at the militant scenes before them. Women of such privilege getting absolutely stuck into caring for their pack. Jamie and Dean absolutely understood. Maybe it was gay intuition, but a strong woman was never too far away.

Ali and Jamie’s tempestuous relationship evolved following his ordeal. Dean understood that although they were complete opposites, the bond as brother and sister was unbreakable when one of them was hurting. He stayed quiet as they bonded even more. Nothing else mattered. Ali’s steely exterior warped as she dropped in over the coming days. Grabbing at both their faces to almost check they were still there, real and safe. “Don’t ever fucking scare us like that again. The pair of you. I’m warning you. You need to start behaving, you pair of shits,” she snapped. They both hugged her more tightly. Despite the words, they were laced with love. That was just how she communicated her adoration for them. They giggled at her; eventually she’d crack and giggle through happy tears, too.

Hen and Em would attend, too. Arthur and George, now fully fledged little boys with boisterous energy, had to be restrained from jumping all over Uncle Jai. Like crazed fans seeing their idol. Uncle D happily taking the pile-ons on the living room floor for him. “Uncle Jai is better, Mama?!” George shouted to Em as they arrived.

“He is! He’s strong. Grow up to be like your uncle Jai, please.” She said, stroking Jaimie’s face. “It’s so good to see you. You know they absolutely idolise you two.”

“I’ll second that, mate. We need you two to help raise these idiots.” Henry agreed, and the three of them laughed as Dean was pinned to the floor in a pile of little socks and clambering hands.

“Can you believe this guy could be a CEO in weeks?” Jamie bit his lip at the scene in front of him. He adored the many facets of his husband. A man so loving could be so fierce in his career. Magnificent. A warmth fell over him. He knew he wanted this scene for them one day. Dean was a natural. It was beautiful to see.

Em noticed the look in his eyes and whispered. “You need to heal, but please do this one day. You’d make such amazing parents. And these two would happily be your little ones’ bodyguards. Your job doesn’t define you as a good parent, but something deeper does. A longing for it. You both have that. We know you worship these two. A little too much at times.” She teased with a wink. Jamie and Dean famously spoilt their nephews. Both of them were absolutely wrapped around the boys little pudgy fingers.

“Yeah. One day. Look at him, Em. He’s a father for sure.” Jamie almost wept.

Soon it was the turn of Jamie’s friends to visit. There were no raucous screams like the years before; it was a quiet embrace of relief. Sniffles and gasps of ‘thank god’ into each other’s shoulders. Trix and Gabby arrived with Richard in tow. Gabby assumed her mother hen role, clucking and fussing as they all sat. She chastised Richard and Trix over them prohibiting her from bringing something to eat. “You two look so small. I said I should have brought something. For the record, they said not to fuss.” Dean and Jamie were just happy to see more faces they loved.

“We have Just Eat, Deliveroo, and Uber Eats Gabs; they’re good. They’ll eat when they’re ready.” Trix assured her with blatant condescension. Jamie tried not to laugh. Hearing these interactions again was like wrapping himself up in his favourite coat.

“Did you get our flowers?” Gabby looked around.

“We did. They’re beautiful, thank you.” Jamie continued to smile.

“Need us to do anything?” Gabby pleaded for something to do for them still.

“There is one thing.” Jamie pulled Gabby and Richard aside. “Rich, this is a mercy request. That man over there needs to get away from me. Take him down the road to the Elgin, will you? Gabby, do you mind? He’s not left my side since, well, you know. He needs some man talk. Rugby banter. Whatever. He hasn’t played in the LGBT or your league in weeks. I’m totally responsible.”

“You don’t have to ask him twice to go for a pint.” Gabby teased. “Anything for you two. We can sit down and mother you anyway. I’m so happy to see you both.” Gabby couldn’t stop hugging and grabbing at her best friend.

“Mate, of course. Here he comes. Hey, D boy, we’re going out.” Richard flicked his hand in the way of the front door.

“Excuse me?” Dean stopped still. Frowning.

“Babe. You need to get away from me. If only for a couple of hours. Go. Talk rugby. Whatever. Get drunk. Please just forget about me for a minute. You deserve so much more, but I’ll take what I can get right now, and Richard is happy to oblige.”

“I, uh. Are you sure?” Dean would happily have stayed.

“It’s an order. You tell me I’m the boss, so here I am.” Jamie flung his arms up in defiance. “Go.”

“Right, ok. I’ll get my jacket.” Dean returned beaming. “Are you sure? I’m not resentful of being here with you. You know that, right?” He cupped Jamie’s chin.

“Of course, you idiot. You’ve just not played for the LGBT or London leagues in so long. Go, have some time to hang out with your people. I love you; I’m in good hands.” Jamie smiled hopelessly at him. He wondered how he got so lucky to end up with a man who struggled to be away from him for more than a minute.

“You’re the best. If you need me, get one of the girls to call me. We won’t be out late.”

They were gone. The sound of the two men talking loudly down the hall was comforting. Even though they were total menaces together. He knew Dean needed some downtime.

Jamie listened to Trix talk of imminently having a backer for her own label. Of how Gabby had been promoted to account director at her PR firm. The developments in his closest friends lives made him hot with sadness. He couldn’t even blame the abduction. All this wonderful news happened before. He knew there were whispers of both but didn’t know how far they’d come. He hadn’t been there. He began to cry.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Gabby stopped mid-conversation. They both ran to him. His cry was pained.

“Hey, dickhead, what’s going on?” Trix had known him all his life; her tough talk never stopped.

He blurted through a whisper, “I’m just sorry.”

They looked at each other, baffled.

“Why? What for, for god’s sake?” Gabby stroked his head.

“I didn’t know how far you’d both come in recent months. I wasn’t present. Dean warned me when we came back to the city, and I didn’t stop to think. I’m so fucking sorry.”

They piled on and muted him in arms and hugs. Telling him not to be sorry. Their bond would take more than one of them getting a little lost to break.

Later that evening Dean returned. A little worse for wear. Dean would have bounded through the doors in years gone by and hoisted Jamie onto his shoulder for a championship all-nighter, but not tonight. He flopped on the sofa. One eye a little more closed. “Sorry, I’ve been out too late. I’m sorry.”

“Will you shut up? It’s good to see you drunk. Don’t apologise.” Jamie grabbed him into a hug. “You needed that.”

“I miss you. All of you.” Dean laid his head in Jamie’s lap. His hand creeping up Jamie’s thigh. Jamie felt himself subtly part his thighs. He could give Dean this at least.

“I miss you. I miss you screaming my name. The sweat. The pinch. My hands wrapped around your neck. My teeth on you. My tongue making you open for me.” Jamie gulped and hardened. He was always hopeless to Dean in this mood.

“Dean?” He whispered.

“Let me see you. You’re so big and shoot so much. Jaim, I even miss you in me. I know I have to wait. But am I a monster to ask you to pull it out? Let me look at it? Kiss it? Have it on my top lip?”

Jamie let Dean decide. Dean pulled his shorts back, and Jamie sprang free. The heaviness bounced against his lips. Dean gasped. He held Jamie’s shaft in his hand. So straight and thick. Jamie was smaller but still a solid opponent for Dean. He missed seeing him. He tentatively held Jamie in his hand. Subtly pulling. Jamie’s breath began to labour, and Dean frowned with longing at his work and then felt Jamie’s hand descend. He bit his lip, knowing Jamie was at his limit. But the hand grabbed his and joined the rhythm. Dean sped up, gulping, licking his lips. Jamie began to pant as the heat and surge he hadn’t felt in weeks pulsed through his body.

“Come for me, baby. Cover me.” Dean rasped. Jamie shuddered as he erupted. Covering Dean’s face. Dean let it fall all over him. Staring hard at what he’d missed. Jamie slumped over with heaves of relief.

“Dean.” Jamie scrambled to push him off. He gripped the sofa.

“Shit! I’m a fucking prick! What can I do for you? Let me get you water. Jesus, I’m such a pig!” Dean ran to grab water and bring it back. He pushed the rim of the glass to Jamie’s lips, and he drank. Delicately. Staring at the floor. Dean wiped his brow and pushed his hair out of his face. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you into…”

“That. Was. Hot. Yes, I’m lightheaded, but my god, that was incredible. You’ve got me all over your face. And! Don’t even think about kissing me like that. I’m not there yet either.” Jamie raised his finger to Dean’s face, giggling.

“Oh, I did good?” Dean smiled proudly.

“Yes, Big Boy. You did. Go shower; you stink of beer.” Jamie demanded. Dean got up to walk away, and Jamie grabbed his hand and kissed it. “Seriously though, I love you. You’re so wonderful to me.”

Dean knelt down to kiss him, and Jamie put his hand to his mouth. “Shower. Now. Dirty boy.”

Dean turned, and Jamie slapped his behind. It felt so good to touch and tease each other in those moments where Jamie was willing and able. These little waves were cresting, and Dean had to surf them before they crashed and disappeared again.

The following day Dean heard from Lars and Harry separately, but they arrived together. Dean opened the door, puzzled.

“Hey, both. What timing. Come in. Let me just check he’s awake. Harry and Lars grabbed him into a tight hug.

“Thank god you’re both ok.” Lars whispered.

“I’ll second that.” Harry echoed. Harry was prickled with nerves. He hadn’t set eyes on Jamie since their latest fight. He hoped Jamie was willing to forget.

Dean found it odd they hadn’t felt the need to comment on his observation. He looked on at them as they sat next to each other on the sofa.

Jamie emerged from the bedroom, rubbing his eyes. “Oh, hi.” He croaked. Lars hurdled the sofa and grabbed him. “Oh my god. Thank fuck you’re ok.”

“I’m getting there. Thank you for coming to see me. Sorry, I’m not great company at the moment.” Jamie’s energy ebbed and flowed every day. He was never really sure how he’d be able to handle each new day.

“All that matters is that you’re safe and getting well.” Harry emerged with a nervous smile.

“Stepmother.” Jamie leaned into his chest. “I missed you, and I’m sorry.”

Harry squeezed him a little more tightly. “No more of it. So in the past.”

Jamie clapped his back. They went to the sofa, and Lars and Harry sat next to each other. Closer than they ever had in any previous situation. Jamie was less alert, but Dean watched their hands. They wanted to hold each other but kept flitting their hands to their laps. Almost as if they were remembering where they were.

Jamie settled by Dean. Harry and Lars looked at them both, and then, as if Dean had foreseen, their hands clasped together.

“No time like the present, right?” Harry announced, his smile wide and anxious.

“What’s going on?” Dean frowned, his smile creeping across his mouth. Jamie stared at their hands. Flat-faced.

“Uh, Lars and I are seeing each other. It’s been a few months. We didn’t know when it was best to say anything. But it felt like we should now that you are both out of harm’s way.” Harry continued. Hoping he wasn’t coming across as nervous as he felt.

“Oh wow. Congratulations!” Dean jumped up and hugged them both. “Two of the best people, I love this!”

Jamie was frozen; he thawed momentarily to snap at Lars. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Jamie didn’t give Lars a moment to reply and marched, more slowly than he had in any of their previous imminent intense conversations, and went into his and Dean’s bedroom. He sat carefully on the chair opposite. “Close the door.”

Harry looked at Dean for some form of explanation. “Leave them to it for a moment. Believe me.” Dean tapped his shoulder with reassurance and possibly some humorous commiseration.

Lars swallowed hard and frowned. “What’s going on?”

“You tell me? How long has this been going on for?” Jamie snapped again.

“About four months.” Lars smiled at the ability to state at the fact.

“And you never thought to tell me? Christ, Lars, this is really awkward. He’s like a brother-in-law to me. And you’re family practically.”

“You two fall out all the time. It never seems awkward?”

“It’s different. I’m married to his best friend. I can’t believe you haven’t told me. I feel like I’ve been ambushed into giving my approval.”

Anger at Jamie’s audacity boiled over. “What the fuck are you talking about? Have you heard yourself? Jamie, I couldn’t tell you. Your head was so far up your own arse with all your fashion work you forgot about us. The three of your closest friends. The girls won’t say anything, but you practically ghosted us since you came back to the city. I hate the timing of this, but yes, we’ve been seeing each other, and I feel so much for him. He’s the first person to treat me with respect.” Lars stopped talking for a moment. Like he was stopping himself from crying. “I feel sexy and confident with him. I’ve never had that. And as much as your approval would be amazing, it wouldn’t change anything if I didn’t have it.” He said timidly.

Jamie grabbed his hand and slumped in front of him. He pressed a finger against Lars’ lip. “What?” Lars whispered.

“So, I’ve been an arsehole then?” Jamie flashed a grin across his face. Everyone was powerless against it.

“Maybe a little before this all happened. I miss you, and I nearly lost you. You have a brother-in-law in him, but you have a brother in me. Remember that.” Lars playfully pulled Jamie’s fringe over his face.

“That’s pretty confusing, and I’m sure almost incestuous, but I take your point, little one. I’m sorry. I’m happy for you. Both of you.”

“You are?” Lars almost jumped.

“I am. I’m sorry. When I saw you both like that as you sat down, I think I realised how much I’d pushed everyone away. I was projecting. And for the record, you’re the only person who can get me on my knees apologising after being abducted and drugged. Do not drag this out. Also, can you, uh, help me up actually? I feel a little lightheaded.”

“Easy. Easy. Look, apology accepted, and think nothing else of it. I’m so happy you’re safe and Dean is looking after you. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Their hands gripped tightly.

“He’s a keeper for sure. Listen. I know you’re a beautiful person, but will you do me a huge favour? Look after Harry. We fight like cats and dogs, but that big hunk of love is fragile. Beyond the charisma, the success, and the movie star looks is a little boy who was never accepted by his family. We’re that for him now.”

“You don’t have to worry. Of course I will. I love how much you care for him. I promise.” Lars brushed Jamie’s nose.

“And don’t worry. If he hurts you, and who could? That’s strictly my department. I’ll kick his ass. And Dean’s. But I will say, Dean worships the ground you walk on, so he’s not a problem and is probably warning Harry to look after you too.” Jamie admitted.

“Jealous?” Lars snapped playfully.

“Aww, no, baby. I get to fuck Dean when I want and have full use of the Archer Bentley Mulsane. I’m good. He may worship you, but he’s obsessed with me.” Jamie tapped his hand deliberately patronising. “But, I know you’ll look after Harry. You’re perfect, so I know he’s in safe hands.”

“I’ve got three great men in you guys. I’m so lucky. I’m not perfect, but I’ve landed three of the best.” Lars never believed he was worthy of the company he kept.

“There you go again. We’re lucky to have you. Now let’s get back to those two.” Jamie shut his inadequacy down.

“Just be good to him, H. That’s all I’m saying.” Dean finished just as Jamie and Lars emerged. Jamie leaned against Dean, and Lars did the same against Harry. They met each other’s eyes, and Jamie simply smiled. Basking in the happiness that was filling the kitchen. It was new, a little awkward to fit into, but like his favourite Prada loafers, give it time and it will fit perfectly.

September

In early September Jamie was napping, and as Dean was walking into the bedroom, his phone buzzed.

“Shit.” He spun round and answered. “Jerry? Hey. How are you?”

“Oh, hello, handsome. I hope I haven’t intruded. I know you’re round the clock at the moment, but I need to talk. I know our boy is recovering, and I hate to add anything else to what’s probably an already massive lis…”

“Shit. The ten year anniversary. I, I mean we hadn’t forgotten. Jamie was due to open the event wasn’t he?” Dean clasped his hand to his head as he closed the bedroom door quietly. He silently breathed out. Yes it was something else. Something else Jamie couldn’t do right now. Dean realised just how incendiary Jamie’s commitments were. One huge thing after the other. In his own line of work there was a whole alphabet of back up plans let alone Plan  A or Plan B. In Jamie’s world it was only Plan J. And that was it. All or nothing. It was technically the point of a lot of what Jamie did but it left no room for back up. Dean’s respect for his work ethic only grew as his own energy was being chipped away. As he’d done since that day, he closed his eyes, saw Jamie’s smile, gritted his teeth, dug deep and heaved whatever it was onto his back. He had to hold up Jamie’s sky after all.

“I know. He’s emailed a few times which has been a huge comfort. Being able to let our little community know what’s going on, ignoring the press. He’s been so supportive of the board when all everyone tells him there is no need.”

Dean realised that things would be so much easier if Jamie would just get a new phone but he had no interest. Like the mere notion of a phone was a portal to what happened again. Something else he shoved deep down along with his exhaustion. He never let this sour into resentment. It was his duty.

“He’s a soldier that’s for sure. Look, him opening with his speech maybe even attending is out of the question. I’ll be honest Jer, I’m not even going to ask him. But…” Dean couldn’t believe what he was about to suggest. “I’m not him. I never will be. I’m not beautiful and charismatic, I’m muscle and practicality but maybe I could do it? For him. For the charity?” Dean began to warm to the idea. “In fact, I’d be honoured to do it.”

“Dean, babe you have so much on your plate. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to put you on the spot.”

“You’re not. You’re giving me an opportunity. We were in a rough place before this whole thing and both of us taking more time for our lives away from each other was a promise we made. This is a start. And you know you the charity and the community around it mean a lot to me too.”

“Oh bloody hell. Trust him to marry such a deep soul. Are you sure?” Jerry squealed.

“He taught me to be who I am. I’m sure because I need to do this for him.” Dean had made up his mind.

“Well if you’re sure. Yes you’re muscle and practicality but you’re beautiful and charismatic, too. Maybe not as much as our boy but…”

“Jer?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Aaand he’s back! Ok, just tell me how long you need so we can order everything after you. We’ll touch base about detail closer to the time. If anything changes or Jamie objects just tell me. Love you, Big Boy.”

“You too, Miss Divine.”

Dean was on a roll, his new curiosity to explore Jamie’s world led him to download the Instagram app finally. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll get back to it eventually. But thank you for fending off Dale for a little while.”

“Maybe it could be fun? I’m not going to be on there much but maybe this is a way of being involved.”

“Don’t make it about me. Dean, you’re so handsome and have so much to offer people. You can share your work out plans, your love of food and travel. Fuck, you could just post a photo of that face and knickers and boxer elastic would ping all over the world.”

“I don’t want that.”

“I’m so sorry. You’re every closeted school boy and dreaming girls fantasy. Dean you’re a complete sex god. Get used to it. Now, the DMs.” Jamie teased.

“Sex god? Are you serious? I’m not, I’m boring. And what the hell do you mean DMs?” Dean said shyly. Jamie loved his complete obliviousness to his beauty. As he’d written about in his journal. The words swirled in front of him.

“People will know you’re my husband and once they know you have an instagram you’ll have all sorts of naughty messages and it’s fine. Just don’t think anything of it.” Jamie hoped he sounded reassuring.

“Have you had them?”

“Oh yeah. They’re so ridiculous.” Jamie brushed them off with a wave.

“Like what?”

“Oh loads of people telling me what they’d do with me. Fuck me. Gangbang me. Gag me. The list goes… Dean are you getting turned on by this?” Jamie giggled as he looked down and saw Dean’s hand creeping toward his crotch.

“Uh, it’s kinda grosse but yeah. For the record, no one will get close to you but fuck.” Dean went ahead and grabbed his hardness and growled.

Jamie bit his lip and got right into Dean’s ear. “Pull your cock out, Big Boy.”

Dean frowned with want and peeled his shorts down. His cock firm and angry.

“I can’t give you me right now like I said, but I want to see you. Cum for me.”

Jamie looked on, salivating as Dean craned his neck back and pulled harder and faster before erupting all over his stomach.

“Wow. I missed you.” Jamie kissed his cheek.

“I can’t wait to be with you again, but if I have to wait, I have to wait.” Dean covered himself back up and bit his lip, too. Just the thought of Jamie riding him was enough to make him roar.

They calmed down and decided on a handle for Dean and he made his first post. A simple photo of their hands, held together on Dean’s lap. “Say what you want. I’m so excited you’re joining the cesspit that is social media. And my talent manager will be too.” Jamie giggled.

“I’m doing this for you. Until you’re able to get yourself back into all this.”

“Thank you. Ok, what are you going to caption this one then?”

Dean thought for a moment and then his eyes widened. Jamie smiled and brushed his head.

DeanAA: I’ve finally caved to my husband’s and apparently his followers demands so here I am. Hello Instagram.

You may have heard in the media about Jamie’s recent ordeal but I’m here to tell you he’s recovering, surrounded by love and support and has been passed on messages by everyone concerned, we both thank you.

While I get to grips with this app, it will take time for Jamie to recover and be back to what he loves most; style, his charity work, The Arden Agency and of course engaging with everyone here.

I’m happy to be his support act until he returns.

One last thing, Jamie mentioned something about thirst traps being a must on my page…?

Jamie put his hand to his mouth in shock. “Oh baby are you already beginning to get a little comfortable?”

“Babe, I write cyber security code, you don’t think I know what a thirst trap is? I’m fully aware of the lingo.”

They laughed together. “But, thank you. You’re the best.”

“For you. Only.” He brushed Jamie’s nose as the notifications of follows, DMs, comments and reactions blew up his screen.

They looked at the comments and were warmed by the support and giggled at the excitement at Dean’s arrival.

@CALVINKLIEN get this beautiful man a campaign.

FUCK CHRISTMAS DAY, THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!

Sending love to you both. Stay strong.

The road to recovery is slow. Take your time both.

Too soon to ask for an OnlyFans?

The last comment came through from a certain MrHJ. An award winning producer to most but a best friend to them. It instantly racked up a thousand likes.

They laughed. After it all, Dean cherished this silly moment. They were themselves again. He grabbed onto the moments where Jamie was happy and present, among the flatness, the staring into space, the jitters and night terrors. He hoped with every second that Jamie could get past this. He might be changed the other side but this broken person was tough to watch.

September 15th, 2021

The morning arrived for the Rainbow Roads Tenth Anniversary event and Dean paced the kitchen. He was nervous to carry out what he knew Jamie would have been up all night excited about. It wasn’t the fact he had to speak on his behalf, it was the weight the speech brought with it. Delivering the speech for him was a stark reminder of how much of a toll the abduction had taken on Jamie. He was resolved to the idea that Jamie may well be changed forever or at least this recovery would be a marathon. One of patience and complete compassion. No sprint.

He was looking out the window of the kitchen when he heard foot steps behind him. “Is there coffee going? I’d like some. Fully charged with caffeine. I can’t handle decaf crap anymore. God, I don’t know what’s worse. Being sworn off any stimulants for weeks or that thing that happened.” Jamie giggled, rubbing the back of his head. He refused to refer to the events of late June as anything other than ‘what happened.’ To define it, gave it a presence and he’d rather put it behind him.

Dean swung round. Jamie was topless in Dean’s pyjamas. The sight was thirst quenching after draught. There was a cheeky glint in Jamie’s eyes. Maybe he was almost back. Dean bit his lip and went to him. He cupped Jamie’s behind in his hands, squeezing hard. This time Jamie let his purposeful hands explore. Hard and tight on his skin. He encouraged, wrapping his legs around Dean as he plopped him onto the island.

Dean whispered as their heads fell together in breaths that screamed the wait was almost over, “you got up by yourself? Babe, that’s so good.”

“Know what else?” Jamie whispered into Dean’s ear, then bit his lobe. Dean shoved his crotch against the cabinets and pulled Jamie’s thighs apart firmly.

“Tell me.”

“I’m aching for you. I’m almost ready. I’ll know when but I can’t wait much longer. Dean, you’re so hard already.” Jamie clenched his legs around Dean’s behind. “I’ve missed you.” He kissed his neck. “You’ve been a soldier for me these past few months. You need a reward. Do you want my hands on you?” His lips slipped to meet Dean’s. “Huh?” He bit on Dean’s bottom lip before running his nose over his.

“I’ll do it all over again to get you well.” Dean pressed his forehead against Jamie’s. “Touch me all you want.” They pushed against each other. Their old ways busting through the delicate pretence Jamie was completely tired of now. “Of fucking course I want your hands on me. I want all of you on me. Babe, please.”

Jamie held his lips in his as he pulled Dean’ shaft slowly but tightly. He quickened his pace to Dean’s increasingly frantic breath. “Babe, keep going. You’ll make me cum now.” He blurted, Jamie slapped his hand to Dean’s mouth.

“Don’t speak. I’m in control now. You’re mine again.” Dean’s eyes rolled and he frowned knowing what was coming next. “Come on Big Boy, give me what I want.” Jamie sped up, slipping his left forearm tightly around Dean’s neck. Muffled breaths and useless words burning into Jamie’s chest as he ruptured up Jamie’s arm. “Good boy.” Jamie returned to tenderness. Kissing his temple. “That was a lot babe. I’m proud of you.”

Dean leaned against him, panting. “Shit. That was worth the wait. Fuck.” Dean leant forward for another kiss through gasps.

Jamie growled through a grin, breaking the kiss. Slapping Dean’s behind, hard enough that Dean almost yelped. “Do me proud tonight. I know you will and I’m so sorry I’m not up to it yet. I don’t want to let everyone down.”

“Are you really getting me to comfort you with my dick hanging out?” Dean asked with a chuckle.

“Of course. That’s your job. Making me feel good with your dick hanging out.” Jamie played at being serious.

“Alright. Alright. You won’t be letting anyone down. Everyone understands.”

“Ok. Seriously though. Thank you. Dealing with all this with an already busy brain is exhausting.” Jamie grabbed his head.

Dean put himself away and grabbed at Jamie’s hands. Tapping his forehead. “I know it gets busy in there but if you can hear this, you’re not alone in this. Don’t struggle. They haven’t won. You’re safe. And happy. I hope.”

“Haven’t they?”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m in here, shunning life, and giving my husband a handjob over our kitchen counter is the height of my sexual spontaneity? I haven’t rejoined the world in any way and it’s been over two months.” Jamie began to wipe his eye.

Dean sobered following Jamie’s self proclaimed and much welcomed sexual spontaneity. “You have to be patient with yourself. We’re home. You’re getting better. Your sleep is less disrupted. You’ve met friends and family. Given me a hand job.” Dean pushed his fist against Jamie’s chin in a tease.

“When will I know I’m ready to get back out there again? To the world? Give you more than a fucking hand job.”

“Everything you’ve gotten to since being discharged has happened quietly. When you’ve not been focussing on it or waiting for it to happen. I know you. You’ll absolutely know and that fire in your belly will burn again. I promise.”

Jamie smiled at him again. He wanted to believe.

That afternoon, Lee was being shifty. He checked on Drew who was dazing in front of the TV. Setting up his new phone that Lee purchased for him.

“Ok, you have the address for later? Message me when outside and I’ll meet you… Great. See you then.” Lee hung up and quickly rejoined Drew on the sofa. Wrapping his arm around him and kissing his head. He never tired of the velvety crunch of his crew cut against his lips.

“Archer QC, what are you up to?”

“Excuse me?”

“Quiet phone calls. Running back in here?” Drew giggled while flicking through his new phone. “I’m kidding.”

“Nothing. Dean needed some support on his speech for later that’s all.” He hated lying but it was only for a few hours. “Are you ok? I thought you’d like to reconnect with the art community so the phone was a good way of…”

Drew pushed a finger to Lee’s lips. “Quiet. It’s brilliant and thank you. No I’ve just had to get a new number and my iCloud is disabled. I’ve lost all my photos. Apps access. All gone. I know we’ll have new photos but I won’t with Stevie. I can’t expect her to want to know me anymore.” Drew missed his one true friend. He felt guilty because Lee was doing everything he could for him. “Sorry. I sound ungrateful.”

“My turn to tell yo to be quiet. Give yourself a little credit here. You’ve been through something terrible and you’re out the other side now. Drew, this isn’t a sprint. It’ll take time. I’m sure she’s heard or read about what’s happened and will understand. You may think you’re a hardened streetwise guy but there’s a kind softness to you too. She’ll know that.” Lee fought back a laugh. He’d meet her again sooner than Drew thought.

That evening.

“Oh you look so good. Come here.” Jamie ran his hands over Dean’s shoulders. The black shirt peeping from under the charcoal suit. Magnificent.

“Are you ok here by yourself? Really?”

“Babe, you’ve got me under lock and key. I feel better. I have a phone again, I think my talent manager sending me one was a subtle hint. I’ll call if I need anything. But I’ll be fine. I’ve got some books and a lovely Pelegrino to keep me going. Aren’t I wild?” Jamie rolled his eyes in self pity.

“Hey. Don’t talk like that. You’re fucking amazing. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll do you proud. I’ve asked Harry to record it for me. You can watch it back tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jamie said happy but still flat.

Dean grabbed his chin. “I love you. Gotta go.” One more kiss and he was gone. Jamie ran his hand over the Paris ashtray where Dean had just grabbed his keys and up at the painting they’d bought on that first trip.

“Paris.” He whispered to himself.

Dean arrived. The event would mark ten years of the charity and Jamie was due to give an opening speech before the celebrations began. Jamie took inspiration with Jerry from Ball Room. The evening was an owd to the culture that underpinned their world as it was now. Where those with resources and connection blended with those in absolute need, in a celebration of individuality, courage, art, a family. None of these things needed money to be celebrated. The acts; the dancers, the poets, singers, drag artists, all of them absolute masters of their craft, mainstream media and cooperations were shunned in favour of fringe newspapers and magazines, independent influencers and creatives. Charged with spreading the word of the good the charity was doing. Jamie was the master of orchestrating grass roots creativity and protest and getting it out into the world without their self aggrandising support.

As Dean arrived the pop up bar was lined with faces they’d loved for years. Lee and Drew chatted quietly. “You came.” Dean grabbed them both.

“Of course. We have to show our support.” Lee beamed.

“For both of you.” Drew added as he pecked Dean on the cheek.

“That means a lot. I hope I do him proud.”

“No doubt you will. You’ve got us all behind you.” Lee pointed and Drew gave way to a sea of faces. Everyone they held near and dear in the city. Gabby, Richard, Trix, Harry, Lars, Peter had arrived with Sally and Joey.

His chest inflated. He was ready. With that, he heard the heavy snap of beads and the clang of jewellery. He turned to see Jerry, now Miss Divine. Jerry’s taloned hand came to his embellished chest, covered in anthracite. Emotional. “Thank you for doing this for us. You’re a wonderful man.” She bent to kiss him. Easily towering over everyone in huge heels and a wig of Antoinette curls.

“Let’s hit it!” Dean clapped his hands and everyone laughed.

“What am I doing?” Jamie put his book down. He’d said to Dean that he was still hiding. It wasn’t that he felt a failure for still not feeling he could step out into the world by himself yet, but he was angry that the events of that June were dictating his decisions. Moving loved ones into positions they shouldn’t. He got up.

“You ready, Sport?” Harry gave him a whiskey to settle his nerves.

“Thanks, mate. I need that. Look, when I get up there, will you just keep an eye on my phone in case Jamie calls?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you for being here. Both of you.  We’re really happy for you.”

Lars and Harry smiled at the floor. Still not quite able to believe they were now public and despite Jamie’s initial reaction, had been their biggest cheerleader ever since. His WhatsApp chat with Lars was rammed with holiday suggestions for the four of them when he was up to it.

Hmmm, what to wear to a charity event?” Jamie ran his hands over the racks of clothes. He missed them. His style was his armour but an extension of who he was, too. Every piece had a story to tell. Then he noticed a jacket. One that was so special, so wrapped up in a time when he felt like he could take on the world, because Dean was absolutely by his side. “Hello old friend.” Jamie grinned. A time when he really did believe in their perfect. Before they tried to unpick the intricate stitching and fit into everyone else’s version of perfect.

“Ready to go in about thirty minutes? I’ll introduce you.” Jerry asked from his tower of beading and curls.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. I can’t beelive he had to miss this. His work. His love of everything and everyone here.”

Jerry cupped his cheek. “It’s a tragedy, but it’s almost as if our community has to have some tragedy when celebrating. One can’t exist without the other as far as we’re concerned. So, we grab at the energy we can and march on.” Jerry stood to attention, as much as his heels would allow.

Dean was reassured by the words but they weren’t Troubles. Words that bewitched him, words he’d hang on every syllable of, smile in awe at hearing the way Jamie described his world. Words that should be filling the microphone on the stage he was about to step onto.

Jamie pulled on the McQueen Dean bought him in New York. Like Dean said, tailoring had to fit. It still did. No need for adjustment. Dean told him that he’ll be ready to go back out into the world when that fire burned in his belly again. With every arm into a sleeve, leg into a trouser, spray of his layering of colognes, adjustment of his hair, Jamie could feel himself coming back to life. The burning began.

He stepped out of the apartment gingerly to begin with but each stride got faster and faster. He hailed a cab and sighed with his little achievement. “No way is he going to do this alone,” he whispered to himself. He opened Instagram and beamed at the flurry of messages since he’d been off grid.

Dean’s phone buzzed in Harry’s hand. A doorbell notification. He giggled to himself at the sight of Jamie leaving the apartment.

“What is it?” Lars pulled on his arm.

“Oh nothing. I’m just happy.”

Lars kissed his cheek. “Get ready to record.”

“Good evening everyone. I must start by apologising. I know I’m the understudy for the main star this evening but please join me in sending all our love to my husband, Trouble. As everyone will know, he’s been through so much in recent months and uh…” Dean’s voice broke. He felt Jerry’s hand on his shoulder.

Was this the moment he’d give up? Admit he was finally exhausted or was this time to give that last ember of energy to something Jamie adored. Demonstrate his commitment to his promise to involve himself in Jamie’s world. He focussed.

“I’m ok. Thank you. Sorry everyone, Jamie would stand here if he could. He’d take no credit and share in the success of the charity, the finding of this brilliant place to support those less fortunate. He’s one of a kind. He takes his own success and uses it for good. LGBT charities have long struggled for funding and resources but through Jamie’s tireless advocacy and innovation, along with the team here, something truly special has been created. Rainbow Roads goes into a new decade with a home, a fearless patron and a community surrounding it that won’t let it fall. I….” Dean stopped and gawped at the doors at the back of the room. There he was. His fire had returned. There was his beacon. Shining bright again. “Jamie?”

The crowd turned to follow his stare. Everyone gasped and began to trickle into applause and cheers.

Jamie froze a moment. A smile threating to split his face and tears making his vision almost useless but he followed the spotlight to the stage and the only hand he needed to hold was out, ready to catch him.

“You came? I love you. I’m so proud of you.” Dean whispered in his ear trying not to burst into tears of awe.

“I wasn’t going to let you to this alone. I got my fire back and I won’t let them win. I’ll take it from here.” Jamie kissed his cheek and turned to the lectern. Everyone cheered, Harry wolf whistled as usual, not before Lars elbowed him to calm down.

Dean took a step back. He looked on at Jamie. The way he commanded the stage. Left hand on the lectern, the right,  free for emphasis and conduction. His shoulders, slanted in a confidence Dean could never quite grasp.

“Oh my gosh. I really should get better at my time keeping. Thank you to my warm up act. Dean, I love you.” The crowd laughed and gave out affectionate groans.

“I’m terribly sorry I nearly missed our special night. Last minute I decided that if I were to stay inside and shy away, then those who orchestrated what happened to me will still have won. That’s the thing about survival, it’s what you do with your life after something you have to overcome and heal from, that matters. Only those who’ve been through something that went straight to the core of who you are will truly understand. I am changed. Not for the worst, for the better. I belong here. I’m loved and I’m counted on. You can continue to count on me. Everyone. This wonderful charity, its courageous users, my family, friends and colleagues. I disappeared for a little while and I was lost before that, too. But I think about our charity and those who use our services. You overcome despair, pick yourselves up and start again. We should all admire you, you should admire each other. I’ve come to realise it’s a privilege to go through life trying on different styles of who we are, we need to remember that. Some of us get to adjust and choose, some of us have to force and squeeze ourselves into what we’re dealt. There’s absolute strength in making a life out of what you can. No matter how small.”

Jamie’s words filled the room, addictive and infectious for everyone listening. Claps, cheers and roars followed.

“I’m not shocked we are celebrating ten years of this wonderful organisation. It’s testament to the commitment of those who guide it and those who need it. But it is more than that. It’s a community, a family. Far too many of us have experienced backs that have turned on us and finding our way in this at times, unforgiving city, on our own. We’re not alone anymore. Not myself, I do understand I talk from a place of privilege, but there’s more to understanding privilege. How you use it and what you learn in return from those who have been supported by it. I’ve learnt of strength and happiness from our service users. I’ve learnt of how our experience can make beautiful art. Whether it be dance, poetry, painting. The list goes on. You’re an inspiration to those who support you. We know there are those who cannot be here this evening and those who are no longer here, sometimes the lowest point is just too much for some of us and we turn to things to make pain and feelings of self loathing go away. I’m not here to judge. We’re human and we’re beautiful. We’re complex. We’re fragile but we’re also strong. We need to look after those in their moment of fragility and remind them of how strong they can be.”

The room was stunned not only with the fact Jamie had arrived but by the effortless grace with which he spoke.

“We don’t just celebrate ten years of Rainbow Roads tonight, we celebrate the lives it’s touched. On a personal note, everyone in this room and a few who aren’t, gave me the strength and courage to push passed what happened to me. I’m a wiser, happier, more content person than I ever have been. I’ll leave you all to enjoy the rest of the evening. Eat as much as you can, drink if you want to, but be happy. There’s happiness in everything, somewhere, we just need to find it and not let it go. Thank you everyone. I love you all.”

Jamie beamed his smile across the room one last time before he turned and fell into Dean. “That was so beautiful. I love you, Trouble.”

“I knew I couldn’t let you do this alone. But I adore the fact you were prepared too. I found the best when I met you. Dean, I’m sorry how things turned out when we got back to the city. I got a little lost but I’m coming out of this feeling a new sense of who I am and that’s because of you.”

“You did all the hard work, babe. Don’t change too much, I still want to see my Wild Boy every now and then.”

Jamie snapped his face up from his chest and wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh he’ll never be too far away.”

They kissed and made their way down from the stage.

Drew was still leaning at the bar as Lee knew it was time. “Drew, can I introduce you to someone?” Lee tapped his shoulder.

Drew spun round. “I’ll leave you both catch up.” Lee walked off in the direction of Jamie and Dean.

“Oh my god!” Drew wrapped Stevie in a desperate hug. His hands shifting over her shoulders just to make sure she was actually in front of him. “I never thought I’d get to see you again. Stevie I’m so sorry I was…”

“Hey! Stop. You were in an awful position, let’s not waste time on that awful man, and introduce me to this new family of yours.” Stevie stood him back to take him in. He smiled at her giddily. “My boy is finally getting what he deserves. I’m so proud of you, kid.”

“How did this even happen?”

“Let’s just put it this way. That gorgeous man of yours over there? He was pretty relentless in tracking me down and telling me the truth of what happened to you. You have a good one, babe. Finally!”

Drew’s eyes went straight to Lee who was talking animatedly to Dean and Jamie. He ran his finger over his lip. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Stevie nodded in encouragement and he ran up behind Lee and grabbed him. “Thank you. I love you.” He nuzzled into Lee’s shoulder before running back Stevie.

Jamie and Dean looked at him with warm eyes. “I think he’s a little bit into you.” Jamie winked at him.

“Hope so.” Lee sighed with happiness.

The night continued into a carnival of music, dance, colour and despite the backgrounds of those in need of the charity in stark contrast to those who supported it, everyone was an equal. A rich mix of walks of life.

“I really want a glass of champagne.” Jamie announced. Dean jumped up.

“Your wish is my command my King.”

“I think I want one too.” Drew added enthusiastically.

“Uh, are you sure?” Lee held his arm.

“I never drank because of how it made my old world appear to me. My new world, with you guys is fucking brilliant and I want to see what it’s like. I’m happy and safe, finally. Let me enjoy.”

“Coming up!” Lee kissed him and left with Dean.

Jamie and Drew’s eyes fell on each other. “So happy you made it.”

“I just needed to shove the worry out of the way. I mean, you’ve continued to fight, get on with it. You inspire me, Drew. I’m so happy you’re with Lee. I can’t wait to see your work being lapped up by critics and collectors.”

“I’m sure I don’t. But I’m flattered nonetheless. And you really think so?”

“You’re having more of an impact on people than you think.” Jamie winked as Lee and Dean returned.

Soon their table was overflowing with the faces of everyone they adored. They never felt stronger.

Gloria Gaynor’s I am What I Am crept over the makeshift dance floor. Dean felt Jamie inhale. He hadn’t danced in months.

“I love this song. I can relate to every single word. It’s completely me.” Jamie announced proudly.

“Yeah. I agree, Trouble.” Their heads fell together giggling.

“Can we dance? I’m not up to much but maybe a little sway?” Jamie began to squirm.

“I’m always happy to sway with you.” Dean led him gently out of the chair.

They got up and the group followed, they froze as Lee followed too.

“This is going to get old really quickly if I have to look at your faces like that every time I do something you don’t expect of me. Yes I can dance. And yes I’m aware of who Gloria Gaynor is. I’m a barrister not a light house attendant on the fucking moon. Just fuck off and dance. All of you.” And they did just that. Jamie, Dean, Harry, Lars, Lee, Drew, Gabby, Richard, Trix, Peter, Sally, Joey and Stevie. They danced and laughed and they collectively healed from a trauma that they would all now share.

Jamie turned to Dean. “You were right. That fire began to burn. I’m never lost when I have you by my side. Holding up my sky. I’m looking forward to more chapters with you. I love you.”

Dean pulled him close. “Hmm, what would you call this chapter of this book of ours then, Trouble?”

“Back to us.” Jamie said in an instant. It captured their life recently so completely.

“I love it.” Dean pulled him off the floor and spun him around. Jamie grabbed his face in his hands and basked in the eyes he fell in love with eleven years before.

Dean dropped him to his feet and took his chin in his hand.

There was only one thing to say.

“Hello, Big Boy. Kiss me.”

So Dean did.

End Of Part Two

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Author’s Note: Your patience is wonderful! And the check ins. So sorry for my delay. Life has gotten in the way and I am sorry. I hope I have done our boys justice. A shorter Part Three will follow which will conclude our look into Jamie and Dean’s world. Thank you to everyone for your truly amazing support.