Category: Uncategorized

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…

---

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]]

---

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

---

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. 

Showering together, Brad and Ken were glad they had the locker room to themselves.  Lathering each other up, they washed away the aftermath of their recent lovemaking.  Emotions evident through their new connection, their bodies reacted, desiring to be joined as their minds were. Reluctantly, they reigned in their urges, hurrying to appease the near-constant grumbling of Ken’s stomach. Chuckling every time he heard the cavernous rumble, Brad rubbed his soapy hands over Ken’s tight abs.

While dressing, Ken asked, “Okay, where are we gonna’ eat, B? I could eat a fuckin’ horse.”

“It’ll take a few minutes to get there, but I have the perfect place.”

Walking to the car, Brad kept an arm around Ken’s shoulders, not wanting the physical contact to end. Leaning in, he kissed Ken’s stubbled cheek and whispered in his ear, “No peeking, I want it to be a surprise.”

Their emotions, open through the link, were like a drug, and Ken’s smile at Brad’s comment brought about an indescribable warmth in Brad. Hopping in Ken’s Explorer, Brad drove as usual. It felt nice to be together, shooting the shit and making small talk. There was nothing to hide, but neither man brought up the events of the last few months, wanting to move past that dark time. There would be plenty of time to remember and work through everything, but for the present, they wanted a semblance of normality.

Glancing at Ken while he drove, Brad was struck again at how incredibly handsome he was; the way he filled out his jeans and t-shirt, his clothes hinting at the body underneath but not so tight as to be showing off, and the sunglasses pushing him over the top. Ken’s jaw already showed a five o’clock shadow, and the scruff just elevated his looks.

It was a huge turn on to Brad, and a testament to Ken’s character, how casual and unassuming he was about his looks. Ruggedly handsome, everyone around Ken always looked twice. Brad seldom paid attention, but people often reacted the same way towards him. Seeing Ken in his sunglasses reminded Brad they needed to replace the broken, shattered aviator glasses Ken lost the night of his abduction. They were his favorite pair, and he looked great in them.

Shortly after pulling out of the lab Ken reached over and held Brad’s hand, playing with it the entire trip, fiddling with his fingers, rubbing his thumb across the back, or just gripping it firmly. With his higher body temperature Ken’s hands were warm, and the physical touch coupled with their new emotional connection was intoxicating.

When Brad turned onto Hwy 141 Ken knew where they were headed, and a smile appeared on his face. Squeezing Brad’s hand tighter, he blurted out, “Fuck yeah, B! Man, you always pick the best places!”

Brad loved seeing the little kid in Ken come out when he was happy, and the smile on his face made the drive worthwhile. In another few minutes, they pulled into the parking lot of Stony Creek, Ken’s favorite steakhouse. After a massive lunch of salad, steak, baked potato, bread, beer, and cheesecake, Brad was about to explode. Still hungry, and much to the amazement of their server, Ken ordered a third ribeye.

Even with their minds touching during their meal, Ken rubbed their legs together under the table, craving the physical contact. The two men rarely made overt shows of public affection, but after recent events and their newfound intimacy, neither of them cared about keeping their relationship on the down-low.

On the drive home Ken stretched out an arm, resting his hand on the back of Brad’s neck, gingerly running his fingers through Brad’s short blond hair. Periodically, his hand lowered, kneading Brad’s neck or running the back of his finger across the growth on Brad’s unshaven cheek, fully aware of the effect of his touch. If the tightness in Brad’s shorts wasn’t enough evidence, he felt Brad’s excitement as though it were his own.

Parking in the garage, before Ken pulled his hand back, Brad drew him into a long kiss, and before separating, gave Ken a quick peck on his forehead before getting out of the car.

“It feels good to be home, Ken, just you and me. I love the doc and all the guys, but I need me some Ken time, and right now I don’t feel like sharing.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Let’s change and hit the pool.”

<><><> 

Minutes later, after donning their swim trunks, they jumped into the pool. Still summer, with the temperature in the upper 90’s, the water felt crisp and refreshing. Using floats, or in Ken’s case multiple floats, they relaxed and lounged in the water.

Staying close, Brad kept his legs loosely around Ken’s waist so they faced one another, lazily soaking up the sun. Ken scooted them even closer so he could hold Brad’s hand like he did when they drove. For over an hour they drifted in silence, relaxing in each other’s presence, their minds and bodies touching.

The backyard silent except for an occasional breeze or the lapping of the water against the floats, the only time they separated was to get beer or go to the bathroom.

On his next beer run, Ken decided to shake things up a little. As he came out of the house, he ran, leaping high into the air and doing a full 360 before landing in a cannonball inches from Brad with his 420-lb. body, completely capsizing him. Ken tried to hide his intent, but his excitement leaked through, giving Brad just enough warning to take a quick breath before he went under. Laughing, he popped out of the water, ready to retaliate.

They were starting to roughhouse when Brad said, “Wait a minute! Come over here.”

Ken stopped splashing him and moved to the edge of the pool, where Brad patted his hand on the concrete.

“Get your ass up here.”

Ken turned around, hopping backward and catching the edge of the pool to lift himself up.  Supporting his weight tightened his arms and chest, and the sight of his tanned body, muscles glistening and wet, started Brad’s libido. Moving between Ken’s thighs while keeping eye contact, Brad started untying Ken’s bathing suit.

Grinning, Ken asked, “B, what’re you doin? It’s broad daylight!”

Grinning back, his eyes squinted in the bright sun, Brad asked, “So, what’s your point?”

His rapidly growing erection now freed from his trunks, Ken laughingly said, “I think you’re about to find out!”

“Just lean back and relax.”

Ken lifted his hips, allowing Brad to pull his swim trunks completely off. The sensation of being outside in the fresh air and hot sun, totally naked with Brad added to Ken’s increasing excitement. Even with the sex they had before lunch Ken was ready, and at Brad’s touch he reached his full length in a matter of seconds.

Firmly gripping Ken’s erection, Brad murmured, “Mmmm, chlorine dick, my fave!”

Steadying himself on Ken’s thighs, Brad took Ken into his mouth.  Intimately familiar with Ken’s pleasure buttons, Brad used his knowledge to full effect, knowing just where and how to touch him. 

Throwing his head back in pleasure, Ken moaned, “Oh, fuck yeah, B.”

Leaning back on an elbow, Ken’s other hand caressed Brad’s head, running his fingers through his short, wet hair.

It wasn’t long before Brad was breathing hard and sweating from his efforts and the hot sun on his shoulders. Leaning forward, Ken moved his hand down to rub Brad’s shoulders, kneading his muscles while continuing to moan, letting Brad know how good it felt.

Encouraged by Ken’s reactions, Brad finally decided to take them both over the edge. He had a plan for later that evening, and needed to get Ken off for the strength boost.

Not wanting to pull off to talk, Brad thought: Hey douche bag, are you forgetting something?

Ken grinned, and their eyes briefly turned white. Suddenly, Brad felt the effects of his efforts on himself as Ken’s excitement became his, taking him to the brink of an intense orgasm.

With their nervous systems joined, it was impossible to hold back any longer.  Placing his hands on Ken’s chest, Brad squeezed firmly, knowing it would trigger Ken’s orgasm.  He also wanted to feel the reaction in Ken’s body as he got off.

Brad had a hard time not squirming as his body attempted to mirror Ken’s reaction. The best part was it wasn’t like touching himself, it was like Ken touching him, and it amplified everything.

Throwing back his head, eyes shut tight, Ken’s breath came in short gasps of pleasure as he cried out, “Oh fuck B, fuck, AHHHHHH…!”

A fresh surge of strength filled Brad from taking Ken’s load, bringing an immediate awareness of his body and muscles to his conscious mind. The sensation was euphoric, almost like a drug, and he grinned inwardly, knowing he was now ready for Ken’s surprise later that night.

Brad kept Ken in his mouth until he went soft, riding out the last waves of his orgasm, and with a contented sigh, Ken said, “Fuck, B, no one can do that to me like you can.”

Reaching down, Ken put his hands under Brad’s armpits, effortlessly lifting him out of the pool and on top of him. He grinned knowingly at the warm spot on Brad’s trunks against his leg and hugged Brad tightly against him. The two big men kissed and cuddled in the hot sun until the hard concrete became too uncomfortable.

As they stood up, Ken reached for Brad’s trunks, but Brad stopped him.  

“Let’s wait a bit, Ken. I got off with you, and besides, I have a plan for a little later.”

Tapping his temple, Brad said, “Promise you won’t peek.”

Raking his eyes over Brad’s wet body, with a lewd grin, he said, “Fuck, B, I don’t need ‘ta look on the inside. Right now, the outside is plenty good enough ‘ta keep me occupied.”

Going into the house, they rinsed off in the shower and put on dry shorts. It was a warm day, so they stayed shirtless.

To appease Ken’s increased metabolism, Brad made him a second lunch, while Ken found a movie on Pay-Per-View and got on the couch to get it started. Snuggling against him, Brad rested his head on Ken’s chest with his lower half wrapped up in Ken’s legs.

By the end of the movie, they had both gotten up at least once to go to the bathroom and get drinks, so their positions ended up reversed with Ken’s head and shoulders on Brad’s lap. Typically Ken was too heavy, but amped up from their last bout of sex, Brad loved Ken resting on him. As they reclined together, finishing the movie, Brad gently ran one hand through Ken’s hair, with his other hand resting on Ken’s bare chest.

When the movie ended Ken wasn’t tired, but he was so relaxed from Brad’s ministrations he almost slurred his words.

“Fuck B, your hands feel nice. You’re too good ‘ta me.”

“Don’t get too relaxed; I still have a surprise for you!”

“B, I feel horrible. All you’ve done today is take care ‘a me, and I’ve been a big slug. I need ‘ta take care of you too.”

“We aren’t keeping score Ken; you know that. After all we’ve been through, I want you to know how much you mean to me. Now that we can merge, we never have to doubt each other again, and the only reason we aren’t deeper in each other’s heads is because I want to surprise you.”

Leaning over, Brad kissed Ken’s forehead, saying, “After that, I have a date inside this handsome head of yours.”

Ken looked up, making eye contact, and said, “B, I thought I was happy bein’ with you before, but now… I don’t know… I feel like we were stumblin’ around in the dark. I don’t know how normal people make it day in and day out bein’ closed off from each other.”

Brad continued brushing the hair off Ken’s forehead and rubbing his chest while they talked.

“Don’t think too much about it, Ken, at least not right now. I have a feeling the doc planned this from the beginning. It would be an entirely different world if there were no lies; if there couldn’t be any lies. It would still be harsh and sad, and people would still be assholes, just honest assholes, but I think if everyone felt what we do, it would bring humanity up to a new level and give us a real chance at a future.”

Grinning, Ken said, “Fuck me, you’re talkin’ smart again. Should I be worried?”

Pinching one of Ken’s nipples in response, Brad chuckled.

“You’re such a douche.”

Ken’s big cocky grin appeared as he looked up, melting Brad’s heart, asking, “But I’m a lovable douche, right?”

“God, I hate to admit it, but yeah, you are.”

They stayed on the couch, quiet and content to be together, and after a few minutes their breathing slowed as both men drifted off to sleep.

Brad woke first and noticed how late it was getting, so he woke Ken, and they went to the kitchen to make dinner. Brad cooked, and Ken cleaned; another part of their routine they were happy to get back into.

<><> 

Once the last of the pots and pans were dried and put away, Ken asked, “Okay, so what’s this about a surprise.”

Moving close, Brad put his arms around Ken’s shoulders, pulling him in for a long kiss. When he broke it off, he took Ken’s hand and said, “Come with me.”

Brad led him down the hall to the spare bedroom, which was mostly empty except for a bookshelf, some free weights on a rack, and an old floor-standing punching bag. Standing in the center of the room, with a solemn look on his face, Brad faced Ken, gripping his shoulders, kneading them, never tiring of the warmth and solidity of his body or the softness of his skin. Brad stared long enough to elicit a nervous smile from Ken, and his brow furrowed.

“B, what…?”

Brad put a finger to Ken’s lips.

“Shhhhhhh”

Another moment passed, and Ken, his voice serious, asked, “Should I be worried?”

Brad’s answer was slow to come, but he finally replied, “No. I think you’ll like this.”

Ken noticed a shift in Brad’s eyes and body language, suddenly finding him difficult to read.

“Ken, you trust me, right?”

“Of course I do, B. With my life, you know that.”

“And you know I would never do anything to hurt you, right?”

“B, what’re you gettin’ at? You’re scarin’ me.”

“When we merged that first time, it caught us both by surprise. It was painful and beautiful, and we fell in love with each other all over again. While I was in your mind… Well, I saw things. Private things. We both did. One, in particular, was tucked pretty far away, and I know why you put it there.

“Seeing that thought, and some others, hurt, because I realize I haven’t met some of your needs. You kept it hidden, even from yourself, because you never thought it a possibility, but things are different now, and I can take you to that place and be the person you need me to be.”

Removing his hands from Ken’s shoulders, Brad cupped his face firmly with both hands, running his thumbs across the stubble on Ken’s cheeks.

“If you don’t want me to do this, I’ll stop. If at any point you want me to quit, just think it, and I’ll know, but if you go with me on this, I will fulfill a need you never thought possible.

“You don’t have to say anything, just nod your head if you want to continue, yes or no, and know that I won’t be disappointed or hurt if you say ‘no.’ You know how much I love you, and nothing can or ever will change that.”

The intensity of Brad’s emotions bled through his touch, eliciting a nervous tightness in Ken’s stomach like a kid who knows he’s about to get laid for the first time and is so scared and excited he can hardly stand it.

Nodding his head ‘yes, ‘ Ken was rock hard.

Brad smiled.

“Alright, this is what’s going to happen. First, we’re going to wrestle. If you pin me, you can do whatever you want to me, but if I win, I get to do whatever I want to you, and you better not hold back, fucker, or I’ll know.”

The change in Brad’s demeanor became apparent right away. His back straightened, his broad shoulders squared back, and a confident, commanding look appeared on his face. Ken had no problem reading his body language now… Brad was focused and prepared to fight.

Stepping back, Brad planted his legs in a balanced stance, holding his hands up. Ken hesitated, not wanting to hurt him, but put his hands up so their fingers could intertwine.

Unexpectedly, Brad jerked him forward into a side headlock, plastering Ken’s face against his ribcage. Ken’s combat instincts took over, and he tried to sweep Brad’s leg to get him on the floor.

As a SEAL, Brad had the same training as Ken, and he was charged up from their earlier sex.  Brad blocked the sweep and spun around, lifting Ken and slamming him down onto the carpet. The house shook from the impact, and a loud “Oomph!” escaped Ken as he landed on his back.

“Come on, Ken! I’m going to kick your ass anyway, but don’t let me! Make me!”

Brad backed off to let Ken get up, and as he stood, he shrugged his heavy shoulders, cracking his neck and loosening himself up.

With a grin, he said, “Okay, B, you’re askin’ for it, fucker. No more mister nice guy.”

The match lasted nearly an hour. Ken quickly realized with Brad charged up so much more than he used to be, he was very likely Ken’s equal. Loving the feel of muscle on muscle, Ken became more and more turned on as they sweated from their exertions. He kept catching glimpses in the mirrors on the closet doors of them locked together, muscles straining, cords and veins showing, and their bodies shining with sweat.

Their hard bodies grappling, the impact of their blows, the smells and sweat as they pitted themselves against one another as men, aroused something in Ken. The fact it was Brad magnified everything, and he lost himself in what was happening.

The longer the match continued, the more Ken realized Brad was right about him wanting this. No, not wanting; he needed Brad to be his equal, perhaps even his superior. Brad was an excellent fighter, and at that moment, not only was he a match for Ken, but motivated to win.

Ever since they first met, Ken held a deep-rooted fear of hurting Brad.  With his strength he always had to keep himself in check, and the freedom to pit himself against Brad affected him down to his core.

Both men breathed hard, looking for an opening to pin the other. Evenly matched in skill, Ken decided to try and overpower Brad. As they circled each other, Ken raised his hands with his fingers spread in a classic test of strength, nodding for Brad to do the same. 

Without hesitation, Brad locked their hands together, and the two men began to flex and strain. At first, their hands were above their heads, but their arms quickly lowered as each man fought for leverage.

Ken wanted to force Brad down on his knees and was surprised when he stayed up. Shaking and straining, he held his ground, and as their hands lowered, their bodies moved closer together.

Inching his way forward, Brad lightly brushed his straining chest against Ken’s. As turned on as Ken was, especially with his heightened senses, Brad knew the effect his chest hair would have on Ken. They made eye contact, and Brad grinned.

Ken had been on the verge of an intense orgasm the entire match. On top of what Brad was doing to him, the emotional impact elicited with every touch of their bare skin, was something he never encountered before.

When their chests touched, the sensation of Brad’s chest hair against his skin sent Ken over the edge, triggering his orgasm. Brad took full advantage of the distraction as Ken was momentarily overcome by the intense pleasure, head-butting him in his solar plexus and knocking the wind out of him. On top of Ken in a flash, Brad pinned his shoulders to the carpet.

His hands on either side of Ken’s face, Brad leaned over him, and Ken felt every bead of Brad’s sweat dripping on him.  Their chests heaving, each man sucked in air, recovering while Ken’s Mind and emotions reeled over what was happening.

Smiling, Brad whispered hotly in Ken’s ear, “Got you, fucker. I know you needed that, but this is only the beginning. Now, the fun really starts. Get up and take off your shorts.”

Ken stood, doing as he was told. Pulling down his shorts, still hard, his erection slapped against his tight stomach, beet red and dripping.

Pulling a futon out of the closet, Brad tossed it on the floor and grabbed some silk rope he had put in earlier.

“Get on your knees in the middle.  Spread your legs, put your hands behind your back, and cross your ankles.”

Ken, still in a fog, did as instructed. His reaction to Brad’s plan was off the charts, and his excitement wasn’t centered only on his erection, his whole body was aroused and trembling in anticipation.

Moving behind him, Brad tied his hands, then his feet, and linked the knots between them and his ankles, forcing an arch in his back, pushing his chest out.

Moving back in front, Brad stared in Ken’s eyes while his hands roamed over Ken’s shoulders and chest, relishing his physical strength, and warm, sweaty body.

After a moment, he leaned forward, his hot breath blowing against Ken’s ear and neck as he whispered, “Now I get to do whatever I want. Your body is mine, and your pleasure is mine. If I want to get you off, I can, or I can tease you until you beg for release.”

 Heat radiated off Ken, a clear indication of how powerfully Brad’s efforts affected him. Brad had never seen Ken react like he was; his anticipation, need, and desire rippled through the link, telling Brad he was on the right track.

With Ken’s physical strength and density, there was no question of his day to day physical superiority, but they were partners and wanted equality in their relationship. Before they merged that first time, Brad never had a clue of Ken’s need for Brad to be his physical equal. As Brad surmised, it wasn’t possible, so Ken buried his desires.

They weren’t into bondage or S&M, but Brad pulled in the extra element this one time in hopes of fulfilling something he saw inside his lover. Standing up, Brad moved in front of Ken.

“Yeah, I know this turns you on. You can’t hide it.”

Reaching down, Brad gripped Ken’s erection, squeezing firmly. Throbbing in his hand, it matched the pounding of his heartbeat, so strong Brad saw the pulse in his neck.  Inhaling, Brad smelled the heat radiating off Ken, as well as his musky scent.

 Looking at his lover, Brad took in every detail, his skin slick with sweat and veins visible across his body. As excited as Ken, Brad maintained control; he had to for Ken, and his determination to be what Ken needed gave him the strength.

Ken didn’t make a sound, but he was more excited than he had ever been in his entire life. His body flushed, and his stomach held a cold ball of fire from the anticipation of what was coming next.

“You see, Ken, it’s not about getting you off. It’s about giving you what you need. You want to test your body. You have all this strength and power, all these big, beautiful muscles, yet you hardly ever get tested. You always have to hold back. There are only a few men on the planet who can stand against you, and right now, I’m one of them. The wrestling was fun, but that was just the beginning.”

As Brad spoke, he picked up a pair of padded leather boxing gloves from the floor, securing them around his wrists with the Velcro straps.

Rubbing the back of the gloves across Ken’s nipples, Ken sucked in his breath and arched his back, pushing his chest against the touch, hungry for it.

“I know you think you’re tough. Let’s see what you got.”

Unexpectedly, Brad stepped back and punched Ken as hard as he could on his chest with every bit of his enhanced strength. Ken jerked in surprise, but saw the next blow coming and instinctively tightened his body to absorb the shock. Ken’s chest felt like a steel plate, and if Brad wasn’t amped up, his hand might have broken from the impact. However, he was amped up, physically from their earlier lovemaking, and emotionally from fulfilling something special in his lover he could never have done before.

Using Ken as a punching bag, Brad rained down blows, pounding his chest and abs, even using his knees and forearms. Sweat flew off both men with each impact, and every strike increased Ken’s excitement.

Looking in Ken’s mind, Brad saw his state of unparalleled arousal, his thoughts nearly incoherent as emotions and sensations overpowered his conscious mind. Pushing his chest out and leaning into the blows, Ken pushed himself past any limits he thought he had.  

Brad kept it up until he was forced to stop and catch his breath. His hands ached from the continued impact against Ken’s dense body, and he was exhausting himself, even with his extra energy.

His head thrown back, eyes closed and mouth open, Ken’s short hair was plastered against his head from sweat. His chest and stomach red from the blows, his breath came in ragged gasps, and his body trembled from the effort of keeping his muscles tensed for so long.

With every exhale, his abs contracted so tightly all eight abdominal ridges became clearly and deeply defined. His sweat-soaked body shone under the overhead light, radiating masculinity and physical beauty, and the vision of him took Brad’s breath away.

Looking at Ken’s naked form, to Brad he had never seemed so virile or desirable. Both men were on an emotional and physical high, and neither realized the wetness in their eyes from the intense intimacy over what was occurring between them.

Cupping Ken’s head in between his gloved hands, Brad forced Ken to look at him. Ken’s eyes opened, glazed and unfocused, still overwrought and having a hard time coming back from the place Brad took him.

Brad, unbelievably turned on by Ken’s reaction to his efforts, wanted to make sure Ken knew how much he got out of it as well. Seeing Ken as he was, naked and tied up, was about to send Brad over the edge. The most exciting thing to Brad, above the physical reaction, was knowing he was able to be who and what Ken needed him to be.

Pulling Ken’s face against his chest, Brad hugged him tight, squeezing with all the strength left in him. The heat and excitement between them were almost unbearable, but Brad backed off, kissing the top of Ken’s sweaty head as he did.

“Now, for the last part. If you want your revenge, now’s the time.”

Stripping off his gloves, Brad untied Ken, and dropped his shorts to the floor, showing Ken how excited he was. Finally able to let himself go, Brad put his hands on Ken’s chest and shoulders, pushing his reaction over everything into his lover through his touch.  Their breath caught, and their eyes, already red from sweat dripping into them, watered even more as fresh tears leaked when their emotions touched.

“I know you always have to hold back when we make love. Well, no more, Ken. I want you to take me as hard and fast as you have ever wanted to. You won’t hurt me, Ken, not tonight, or ever again. Squeeze me as tight as you’ve ever wanted to. I want to feel how strong you are, and I’m not afraid.”

Brad moved closer, looking directly into Ken’s eyes, searching for a sign that everything was alright. Ken’s Mind still reeled from the overwhelming sensations Brad brought out in him.  Brad gazed at Ken, looking so manly and hot, more powerful yet more vulnerable than ever.

Moving his hands to hold Ken’s face, he quietly asked, “Are you okay, Ken? Is this okay?”

His throat so tight with emotion he could barely talk, Ken’s voice cracked as he whispered, “B, I’ve never been more okay in my entire life.”

Hearing his words and knowing how deeply his efforts affected Ken, Brad threw his arms around Ken’s shoulders and jumped, wrapping his legs around Ken’s waist. Ken caught him like a child, cupping his ass cheeks with his hands.

The move put Ken at his opening, and he thrust forward, sliding into his lover as he came. The heat and tightness were too much, and he tensed, squeezing Brad so hard it would have cracked his spine if he wasn’t charged up. Brad clenched himself around Ken repeatedly, milking every drop, and with Ken’s first contraction renewed strength filled Brad as their DNA reacted.

Ken held their embrace until his contractions stopped and then continued, lifting Brad with every stroke, still fully pumped, with every muscle flexed tight in pleasure.

Brad lost himself in pleasure too, as Ken did everything he ever wanted but was afraid to. The heat between them, the sweat flying with each impact of their bodies, all culminated in a primal physical and emotional rut that was hotter than either of them ever imagined.

It was hours before Ken exhausted himself, and through it all, he felt more alive and full of love for Brad than ever. Finally spent, he collapsed on his lover. Brad’s eyes shut tight, he nuzzled his face against Ken’s neck, inhaling his heat and musk. Ken, in turn, rubbed his stubble covered cheek against Brad’s, hugging his lover back.

The only sound their harsh breathing, they held one another until both of them moaned, “Ohhhhhhhh fuckkkkkkkk” at the same time, which made them laugh.

Shaking in exhaustion, for the first time since the program, Ken felt weak as a kitten.

Extricating himself from underneath Ken, Brad whispered, “Stay here.”

He quickly returned with two sports drinks, handing one to Ken before plopping down beside him on the futon.

Sitting in silence, Brad stroked Ken’s chest, giving him time to recover and come back to himself.

After a few minutes, he broke the silence, saying, “Fuck Ken, I don’t know about you, but for me THAT was EPIC. If I ever have any doubts about your virility ever again, just remind me of tonight.”

Ken lay on his back, his arms and legs sprawled out, eyes open, but looking at nothing, his mind still reeling and coming back from the place Brad took him. Brad got beside him, propping his head up on one hand while his other hand roamed soothingly over Ken’s chest and abs, continuing to caress him.

Ken looked at Brad and tried to talk, but his throat closed up, and fresh tears leaked from his eyes. Unable to form the words, he spoke in Brad’s mind.

I love you with all my heart and soul, Brad Wilson. I thank God every day for you bein’ in my life. I can’t believe what you just did for me. That was the most amazin’ thing EVER.

Opening his mind and emotions, Ken filled Brad with all of him. Brad opened himself as well, embracing Ken, merging them completely, and they stayed together for hours, in each other’s arms and minds, awake and content, before finally drifting off to sleep.

<><><> 

The doctor didn’t want Ken or Brad returning to work yet, preferring they take time off to relax and adjust to their new abilities. Barring any concerns or questions, he would wait to talk to them after they returned. His only specific request was not to try anything mental with the other guys yet.

Brad and Ken would still be at the lab nearly every day for Ken’s workout, and the doctor would be available if anything urgent came up they needed to talk about.

<><><> 

Over the next few weeks, Ken and Brad woke every morning, going for their daily run. Brad accompanied Ken on his workout routine at the lab, which housed specific equipment for Ken and the other bodies. Brad belonged to a gym closer to their house since he worked out with standard weights, but made do at the lab to stay close to Ken and save time.

After their run they showered, and while dressing Ken noticed the seams of his tennis shoes coming apart. Weighing over 400 lbs., Ken went through shoes quickly. Ordinary shoes weren’t designed for his kind of weight, so he and Brad decided to make a trip to the nearby Mall of Georgia. They hadn’t gone shopping in a while, and Brad thought it would be nice to pick out some new clothes for both of them.

Public schools were out for the summer, and the midday crowd consisted of teenagers and moms with baby strollers.  As handsome and well-built men, Ken and Brad received numerous looks from girls and moms, and many from guys too, as they walked around. At first, Ken didn’t notice Brad getting quieter as they moved through the mall, and he seemed distracted while looking at shoes in The Foot Locker. 

Abruptly, he said, “Hey Ken, I have to hit the head. I’ll meet you at the carousel in the food court.”

Without waiting for a reply, he walked out quickly.   

Ken reached out with his mind to see if something was wrong, but either Brad was already out of range, or he dampened their link for some reason. It was still active but turned down to a bare minimum.

Ken thought maybe Brad had to piss badly and didn’t want the urge to spill over to him. Early on, they learned each of them could broadcast sensations to the other without meaning to, regarding bodily functions. If either of them were hungry or had to go to the bathroom, the other could mirror the sensation. Their control improved daily, but it still happened occasionally. Ken’s instincts didn’t indicate any physical danger, so he didn’t think much about it.

As usual, it took longer to find a pair of shoes than expected. The first few he liked weren’t available in his size, so he continued looking until he found something comfortable and suitable for jogging and working out that was available. Finally settling on a pair, just as he finished paying, his link with Brad severed. Their connection had become second nature, and Brad’s abrupt absence left an uncomfortable hole in him.

He and Brad didn’t stay in each other’s minds or even communicate mentally all the time, but they had come to rely on a sense of ‘togetherness,’ and Ken felt like he got punched in the gut when Brad’s presence vanished.

Rushing out of the store, Ken nearly ran over a couple of teenagers. The bathrooms were at the food court on the lower level, close to a carousel for kids they used as a meeting place if they ever had to split up, and Brad said he would meet Ken there.

Scanning the area, bustling with people, Ken didn’t see Brad anywhere. The noise level was outrageous, so calling out wouldn’t do any good. Rushing down the escalator, he made his way towards the restrooms and turning the corner into the men’s room, he found Brad on the floor with his back against the wall.

His first thought was ‘thank God he’s here,’ and his second was that while something was apparently wrong, Brad appeared to be physically okay. Quickly moving over, he knelt, putting a hand on Brad’s shoulder. His body visibly taut and his shirt soaked through with sweat, Brad looked white as a sheet, and he flinched at the contact but didn’t look up.

Keeping his voice low and steady, Ken asked, “B, what’s goin on? Talk ‘ta me. What’s the matter?”

Raising his head with a confused, distant look on his face, Brad stared through Ken like he wasn’t there. Not knowing what else to do, Ken took Brad’s face between his hands, trying to force Brad to look directly at him.

“B, focus, man! You’re scarin’ me! It’s Ken!”

His voice filled with relief, Brad said, “Ken? Oh, fuck!”

Brad launched himself at Ken, grabbing and squeezing tightly, almost desperately.

“It’s okay, B. I got you, I got you.”

Pulling Brad close, Ken held him, rubbing a hand up and down his back and giving him time to snap out of whatever was happening. With the physical contact, Ken reached out with his mind but met resistance. He pushed through but was stunned as thousands of loud voices, jumbled and talking over one another, filled his mind. Shocked and surprised, he rebounded out of Brad’s mind from the blinding pain. The chaos of seeing through thousands of eyes at once, coupled with the emotions, deceit, and worst of all the brokenness, overwhelmed him.

Breathing hard and seeing spots from even the brief exposure, Ken knew Brad felt everything more acutely than he did, so what he was experiencing must be unbearable.

“Fuck, I gotta get you outta here!”

Ken knew what was going on but didn’t understand how it could have happened. Somehow, the thoughts and feelings of all the people in the mall were inundating Brad’s mind all at once. The problem was the number of people in the mall, and getting Brad through them to get him out. He wasn’t sure if Brad could walk and didn’t want to draw attention by carrying him.

“Ken, I can’t hold them off! There’s too many! They’re so loud! Fuck! The lies and hate, the cruelty and brokenness… it’s… really… painful! I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

“B, look at me! Look at me!”

Ken shook Brad, and slapped him, trying to get him to focus.

“Listen ‘ta me, B! Listen ‘ta my voice and focus on me. I got an idea. Look at me and concentrate. We’re gonna figure this shit out.”

The sound of Ken’s voice helped Brad focus, and his eyes lost some of their detachment.

“There’s so many, Ken, it’s hard to hear you…”

Brad was the source of their mental connection, just as Ken was responsible for the physical connection, and Ken remembered how Brad made the construct of the river, that small piece of reality in his mind he used to imprison the creature that almost killed them both. Ken didn’t have the power to do anything on that scale, but after being connected to Brad, his mind had grown. He could initiate their connection when they were close and touching like they were.

Ken heard some teenagers coming down the hallway to the bathroom, talking loudly and laughing.

Well, there’s nothin’ for it, if they see us, they see us.

Closing his eyes, Ken formed a picture in his mind of a small, soundproof room with solid walls no one could see in or out of, in the middle of the food court. The only two people allowed in that room were Ken and Brad. He imagined all the people, milling about, shopping, and talking, but inside that room, it was deathly quiet.

It was difficult to hold the image and push against Brad’s resistance, but desperation and adrenaline worked wonders, and he punched through.

<> 

 Opening his eyes, Ken found himself in the food court with Brad at his feet, bent over in pain and holding his head. In the construct, no one paid them any attention, so wrapped up in themselves they couldn’t see what was happening right in front of them.

Picking Brad up, Ken threw him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry rushing into the room, and as soon as the door closed the voices stopped. The pressure in Ken’s mind was immense, and the walls bulged but held. Setting Brad on the floor, he admonished himself for not thinking to include a couch or a bed.

Breathing heavily, Brad held his head, repeating, “Oh fuck, oh fuck…”

Sitting behind Brad, Ken pulled him close, wrapping his arms tightly around him, resting his chin on Brad’s shoulder and rocking him gently.

“Just be quiet, B, and relax. Relax and be still…”

Ken whispered encouragement, wanting Brad to hear his voice. Moving one hand up, he brushed the hair back from Brad’s forehead, continuing to rock him in a soothing motion. He was scared for his partner and couldn’t imagine what set the incident off. He knew Brad practiced to keep this type of thing from happening, so something must have triggered it.

After a few minutes, Brad’s breathing returned to normal, and he gripped Ken’s forearm wrapped around his middle.

He whispered a quiet, “Thanks, Ken,” and after a short pause said, “Fuck my head hurts. Where are we?”

“’Ta be honest B, I’m not sure if we’re in my head or yours. I didn’t have much time, so I put this together on the fly hopin’ it would work. You and I are still in the men’s room.”

“No shit?”

“So, what happened? I mean, I know what happened, but how and why?”

“I haven’t been around this many people yet and was getting a headache.  I went to the bathroom, and everything was mostly alright until out of the blue, this scream tore through my mind and broke the shield I had up. I’ve been practicing on shielding people’s thoughts, so much of what they think is seriously fucked-up, and physically hurts.

“That scream cut through me like a knife, and suddenly everyone in the mall was in my head with all their fucked-up shit. It’s hard to imagine that was us not too long ago. There’s good also, but it’s buried and gets lost in all the other crap. The brokenness is physically painful, but it also hurts like hell to see through thousands of pairs of eyes at the same time.

“Ken, some little kid is in trouble. It was his scream that broke through. He’s terrified and hurt.”

“Okay, B, first we need ‘ta get outta here. Are you alright now?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks, Ken, you pulled my ass out of the fire.”

Pulling Brad into a tight hug, Ken kissed the top of his head.

“Yeah, that’s what badass boyfriends are for.”

“I just wish you didn’t have to do it quite so often. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m ever going to get a grip on this stuff.”

“Whoa, B, stop right there.”

Pulling Brad to his feet, Ken gripped him firmly by his shoulders, holding him at arm’s length.

“First off, do you remember how long it took me and the guys ‘ta adjust to our bodies after the change? Yeah, that’s right, months, and we were in good shape before the program. The senses were even worse! This is no different. You’re dealin’ with this shit way better than I ever could, and you’re doin’ fuckin’ great. It’s new territory, and it sucks, but you’re learnin’ as you go. There isn’t a manual for this shit.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“No guessin’ about it, B. Look here, and I’ll prove it.”

Taking Brad’s hand, Ken placed it on his chest over his heart.

Brad merged them, immersing himself for a moment in the bond they shared. Their love and support for one another were like a healing balm and a shot of adrenaline at the same time, lifting them up. Brad drew strength from Ken’s physical presence, the heat and scent of his body, as much as from touching his mind.

B, use us as a shield. What we have is strong enough ‘ta get us through anythin’ as long as we’re together. If you feel yourself slippin’, come back ‘ta this, ‘ta what we have, and let it be a barrier nothin’ can get through.

Hey, Ken?

Yeah?

I’m supposed to be the smart one; you know that, right?

Hey, buddy, I’m just holdin’ you up ’til you get back on your feet. That’s what badass boyfriends do for one another. Remember that the next time I get knocked on my ass.

Alright, we’ve been here long enough. Let’s get back to our bodies.

 Neither of them noticed a well-dressed man sitting in the food court of Ken’s construct, observing them. To him, the walls of Ken’s room were nonexistent, and he listened to every word and thought between them with a contemptuous scowl on his face, vanishing just before Brad took them back to their bodies.

<> 

Opening his eyes, Brad still sat on the floor of the men’s bathroom, Ken kneeling beside him with a hand on his shoulder. Ken stood and held out a hand, pulling Brad to his feet.

Even with everything that transpired in the construct, only a few seconds passed in the real world, and as Brad stood up, the teenagers Ken heard rounded the corner, entering the bathroom.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Brad saw how pale and sweaty he was. Ken had their shopping bags, and Brad asked, “Hey Ken, would you hand me one of the new shirts? I don’t want to go back out there looking like this. And remind me to burn these clothes, I’m not sure I can wear them again knowing they were on the floor of a public bathroom.”

One of the kids, a young Hispanic guy, looked at Brad and asked, “Hey man, you okay? You need some help?”

The young man’s honest concern touched Brad and made him feel just a little bit better.

“Thanks for asking, but I’m okay. Something I ate didn’t agree with me.”

The kid nodded and went to a urinal to take a piss.

Stripping off his shirt, Brad washed his face and wet his hair, drying himself with some paper towels. He wiped his body with his dirty shirt and put on the new one Ken tossed to him. Taking a deep breath, he looked and felt better except for the pain in his head.

As the kids headed out, Ken heard one of them comment, “Shit, did you see that guy? He was built!”

Grinning at the comment, he couldn’t agree more!

Brad’s eyes were red and glassy, and Ken asked, “B, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, I have a splitting headache, but I’m good. I’m ready if it happens again. Ken, we need to find that kid.”

“Don’t you think we should at least call the doc ‘ta see if he has an opinion on what just happened?”

“We don’t have time. We can after, but I have a bad feeling about this. We can call him after, I promise.”

“Alright, so you heard this kid scream, but did you see him? Do we know who we’re lookin’ for?”

“He’s a little boy, maybe three or four, but I didn’t see his face. I got a brief glimpse through his eyes before he got jumbled into everyone else. He’s in the food court, and the kid’s meal he’s eating is from Dairy Queen. There’s a man and a woman with him. The man has some serious tats on his arms. He’s big, and the kid is scared shitless of him. He did something that triggered this. It had to be pretty bad for the boy to react like he did.”

“Okay, we’re goin’ out there and takin’ a look. If they’re still there, we need ‘ta identify ‘em and hold tight a few minutes. We can’t just barge in and tell ‘em you had a vision of their terrified son. If the kid’s in trouble, we’ll need proof ‘ta help him.”

Leaving the bathroom, Brad and Ken headed towards the Dairy Queen counter. A movie had just let out from the upstairs theater, and more people flooded into the food court from the escalators, making the noise level even louder.

In his initial training with the doctor, Ken and the bodies learned to separate noises in their minds. Closing his eyes, Ken focused, and through the chaotic jumble of voices and sounds, he heard a few kids crying. One cry, in particular, was higher pitched, nearly hysterical, and he immediately honed in on the little boy.

He wore an Iron Man t-shirt, shorts, and tennis shoes. His cheeks were bright red and wet from crying, and he was distraught and hiccupping from sobbing so hard; his nose ran, and spittle covered his chin, dripping onto his shirt. A messy kid’s meal sat on the table in front of him, and his little fingers held a soggy, half-eaten, ketchup covered french-fry, but he cried so hard he couldn’t finish it.

The boy’s mother tried calming him down, but the father, a big man, muscular and covered with tattoos, looked furious. Grabbing the little boy, each big fist around a tiny arm, the man jerked the boy into his lap. Ken winced when he saw the man’s knuckles turn white from the strength of his grip, knowing he could easily break the boy’s arms if he wasn’t careful.

Turning to Brad, Ken said, “Hey B, go get mall security pronto.”

Ken’s reaction hit Brad through their Link, and Brad’s voice turned steely.

“You call them Ken. He’s not touching that kid again. In fact, you better call an ambulance.”

Waves of intense anger exuded from Brad through their link, and Ken muttered, “Oh Shit,” under his breath.

“Don’t worry, I’m in control.”

Ken hoped he or Brad knew some of the mall cops on duty, so it would be easier to smooth over what was about to happen. When Brad got close enough, he heard the man screaming at the little boy, even over the din of the crowd.

“Why the fuck can’t you listen to me you little shit!? Do you know how much that food costs!?”

The mother, visibly frightened, was trying to diffuse the situation.

“Doug, you know he didn’t mean it! He’s just a baby! Here, let me take him…”

She reached over to take the boy, but Doug slammed him down onto the chair next to him, away from her. The boy was so hysterical all he could do was cry, but the pitch of his scream increased when his tailbone slammed down into the hard wooden chair, and his little legs kicked as he squirmed from the pain of the impact. His cries were mostly drowned out by the noise level of the mall, and only a few people nearby could see what was happening. Most of them, Brad noted, were trying to ignore the situation.

The mother cringed, and when Doug grabbed her wrist, Brad noticed discoloration from recent bruises on her arms.

Doug was a big man, broad-shouldered with massive arms, but he was redneck fat with a beer gut. He looked mean, but Brad was 6’ 2” and 245 lbs. of solid muscle and a trained Navy SEAL. People around Doug started to stare and point as Brad approached, but Doug was oblivious.

Brad’s anger snapped when he saw bruises on the mother’s arms and the little boy’s pain, and he grabbed Doug’s wrist with an iron grip, squeezing hard enough to break his hold on the mother’s arm.

In a calm voice, but loud enough to be heard, Brad said, “Let her go.”

Furious, Doug jerked his head up, yelling, “Let go of me right now, mother fucker, or I’ll rip your arm off!”

Doug stood so fast he knocked his chair over, and people sitting adjacent backed away, realizing a fight was about to break out.

Maintaining his grip, Brad twisted Doug’s arm behind his back, putting him in a very painful arm lock and shoving his face onto the table, aiming for the ketchup covered napkin. The mother, surprised at the intervention, stared at Brad, wide-eyed.

Brad calmly looked at her and said, “Ma’am, see that man over there in the blue shirt?”

Shaking and too upset to talk, she nodded her head.

“Take your little boy and go over to him. He’ll make sure you and your son are safe, while I have a talk with Doug here.”

Doug, livid, his face purple with rage, struggled to get up.

“You fuckin’ bastard! How the hell do you know my name? I’m gonna’ kill you! Liz, get your ass back over here bitch if you know what’s good for you!”

Liz picked up her son, hugging him tightly, and hurried over to Ken.

“Doug, I’m going to let you go so we can have a little chat. If you’re smart, which I doubt, you’ll pick up your chair and sit your ass down, but I hope you’re a dumb shit just like you look and try to take a swing at me.”

Releasing Doug, Brad quickly moved out of reach, thoroughly prepared and expecting Doug to rush him. Doug breathed hard, his nostrils flaring in anger as he looked around. The stares of people pointing and talking made him feel foolish and angry, and the flow of Doug’s shallow, base emotions were an open book to Brad.

Twenty feet away, Ken spoke with mall security while keeping an eye on the situation, and Doug telegraphed his move a mile away. 

Whispering to himself, Ken said, “Don’t do it, man.”

As Ken’s words left his mouth, Doug lunged, trying to catch Brad off guard, and five seconds later, he lay on the ground semi-conscious. Brad hit him no less than a dozen times, raining blows down on his chest, stomach, and neck, and Doug never had a clue what hit him.

Kneeling beside him, acting like he was checking on Doug, Brad touched his temple.

“Time for a little chat, you sorry piece of shit.”

<><> 

Doug had no idea what happened but suddenly found himself sitting on his couch at home, his hands and feet wrapped in duct tape. An intimidating Brad stood in front of him, with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Alright, Doug, I only have a few minutes, so I’m going to cut right to the chase. Don’t lie to me. In fact, you can’t lie here, and don’t hold anything back, because I can force you to talk if I have to. What is your son’s name?”

“I ain’t tellin’ you shit! What the fuck’s goin’ on? How’d I get here? Untie me, you bastard, or…”

“Or what? You’ll hit me like you do your wife and son? I’m asking one more time. What is your son’s name?”

“Fuck you, you son of a bitch!”

“Alright, Doug, let me explain this in terms your dumb ass can understand. We’re in your mind right now. Your body is unconscious on the floor of the food court at the Mall of Georgia, where I just kicked your redneck ass. While we’re here, think of me like Freddy Kruger. In this place, I’m your worst nightmare, and can pretty much do whatever I want to you. If I kill you here, you’ll die on the floor of the mall.”

Doug seemed oblivious as Brad spoke, ignoring him and trying to break free, and as he watched Doug struggle, Brad’s anger continued to build. The stupid, ignorant man, a wife-beater and child abuser, was too dumb to realize how much trouble he was in. Brad rarely lost his temper, but Doug pushed all his buttons, and he saw red.

“Okay, Doug, you asked for it.”

Brad opened Doug’s mind like peeling an onion. He did it brutally, intentionally, and Doug screamed as layer after layer stripped away. Brad wasn’t proud of his actions, but he was so furious he didn’t care. Sifting through Doug’s unintelligent and disorganized mind, Brad witnessed his life and the experiences that led him to be the man he was. He watched Doug and Liz marry and saw the birth of their son, Drew.

Doug’s internal rage and resentment at what he believed to be an unfair life, and his desire to feel powerful and in control, were clear. Brad watched, horrified, as Doug burned Drew with cigarettes and beat Liz. Once, when Drew was two years old, Doug broke his leg but managed to fool Child and Family Services and lie his way out of going to jail.

Doug screamed as Brad tore through his memories, aware of everything Brad saw, and he was so terrified he shit his pants.  Unfortunately, much to the dismay of the people in the food court, his body followed suit.

Seeing the beatings, the burns, Drew’s broken leg, and Doug’s thoughts and motivations as he performed the acts, Brad went ballistic. His face flushed dark red, his whole body tensed, and veins showed at his temples, neck, and arms.

Grabbing Doug by his throat, Brad screamed, “YOU SON OF A BITCH! HE’S JUST A LITTLE BOY! WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?! TELL ME! TELL ME RIGHT NOW WHY I SHOULDN’T RIP YOUR MIND TO SHREDS AND LEAVE YOU A VEGETABLE FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE?!”

The waves of anger coming off Brad were like a physical force in the construct, and Doug sniveled in fear and pain, begging, “Please, man, don’t kill me! I can change! I swear it! I promise! I’ll do whatever you want, but don’t hurt me!”

Sobbing, nearly incoherent with fear, Doug’s face was covered in tears and snot, looking just as terrified as Drew had been only moments before.

Doug was a horrible human being, and Brad’s immersion in his mind and memories, seeing how broken he was inside, wasn’t only painful, it made him sick. He already had a splitting headache from Drew breaking his shield, but he paled even more, wanting to throw up.

Assessing Doug’s life and memories, Brad was aware of every excuse Doug used before. His temper would get out of hand, and he would beat Liz or hurt Drew, and then promise to change. He would for a time until he was drunk or in a bad mood, and then Drew would make too much noise, or Liz would do something wrong. Brad realized Doug would never change his behavior. He could, but never would.

His voice dripping with contempt, Brad said, “You’re a fucking animal, Doug. You know, and I know, you’ll never change. You’re too weak and lazy.”

Leaning down, Brad put his face inches from Doug, who still blubbered like a baby, afraid Brad was going to kill him.

“So, should I get a blowtorch and burn you because you’re crying? Like you burned Drew with your cigarettes when he made too much noise? Like you burned Liz’s hand on the stovetop when she burned your dinner? How does it feel to be helpless and afraid, Doug? To feel like you make your wife and son feel? You’re scared shitless right now, but as soon as you get home, you’ll find a way to make this their fault and take it out on them. You know it’s the truth!”

Brad was having a difficult time keeping his anger in check. Once he dug deep and realized what kind of person Doug was, he was unsure how to proceed. He could erase the bad memories and experiences that made Doug the person he was, but that would change him too much and be too hard to explain, and there was no way to know what kind of man Doug might become; he could turn out worse. Brad could kill him, which would be the easiest choice and probably best for everyone involved, especially Drew, but that wasn’t an option or at least one he could consider at the moment. No, the only thing a man like Doug understands is fear and control.

“Okay, Doug, here is what’s going to happen. You’re going to jail, and will never see Drew or Liz again. EVER. You can communicate with Liz, but you will never go near her again. EVER. Your life’s work will be to make theirs better. As soon as you can, you’ll get a job and send them money. You will put Drew through college if he wants to go. You will pay their rent. I don’t care how miserable your life becomes; you’re going to make it up to them. You will never marry or have more children, and if you ever hit another woman or abuse another child, I will know about it, hunt you down, and flay your fucking brain inside out and leave you a mindless corpse. Do you understand me?”

As Brad spoke, he placed compulsions in Doug’s mind, enforcing his commands. Doug shook so hard from crying all he could do was nod his head ‘yes.’

“I’m glad we had this little chat, Doug. I’m going to knock you out now. Painfully.”

<><> 

There was no outward sign of what happened to Doug, other than he passed out with a grunt and defecated in his pants. Looking up, Brad saw Liz with Drew in her arms, standing next to Ken.

One of the mall cops keeping everyone away from Doug told Brad, “Gwinnett PD is on their way. You need to stay put until they get here for a statement.”

Brad nodded and went over to where Ken stood with Liz and Drew, who was still crying.

Looking at Liz, he asked her, “Are you okay?”

Her voice shaky, she started crying again as she replied, “Thank you, but you have no idea what you just did. He’s going to be so mad when he wakes up.”

“Liz, it’s going to be alright. Doug’s not going to hurt you or Drew ever again. You may not believe it now, but trust me, everything is going to be fine.”

Not wanting her to ask any questions right then, Brad gave her his most disarming smile and asked, “So how’s your little Iron Man doing?”

“He’s settled down some, but I can’t get him to stop crying.”

Hey Ken, could you do me a favor? The Disney Store is right around the corner on this level. When we walked by earlier, they had Iron Man hoodies for kids. Could you run and get one? Size 3 in Little Boys.

Are you gonna tell me what’s goin on? What the hell did you do ‘ta him? I saw you kick his ass, but that doesn’t make a guy shit his pants.

I’ll show you everything later. I was harsh, I won’t deny it, but hopefully, you’ll understand and agree with me once you see it all.

Alright, you know I trust you. One Iron Man hoodie comin’ up!

Ken motioned for one of the mall cops to come over and quietly told him where he was going, out of earshot of Liz and Drew.

“Liz, if you don’t mind, could I hold Drew for a minute? Maybe I can get him to stop crying. I know I’m a stranger, but I’d like to try.”

Looking at Drew, Liz asked him, “Drew, do you mind if this nice man holds you for a minute? You’re such a big boy, you’re getting heavy, and mommy needs a rest.”

Brad didn’t have much experience with kids Drew’s age, and after his abuse and horrible experiences, Brad was afraid of hurting him more.

Drew seemed ambivalent to the exchange and didn’t put up a fuss.  Brad put one arm under his butt and one around his shoulders, and gently rubbed Drew’s back, hoping to calm him down.

“Hi, Drew, my name’s Brad. That sure is a cool shirt you got there. Did your mommy get it for you?”

Resting his head on Brad’s shoulder, Drew put his arms up as far around Brad’s neck as he could, snuggling against him. His nod was barely discernible, but he didn’t say anything.

Closing his eyes, Brad sent soft, soothing thoughts of comfort and safety into Drew’s young mind, and in seconds he stopped crying. He wasn’t sleepy, just content to be held, and for the first time that day, and probably in far longer, he felt safe.

Liz sniffed, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, amazed Drew stopped crying.

“He must really like you. He’s not usually too warm to strangers.”

Brad grinned and said, “I think he knows I’m a friend. Don’t you, buddy?”

While Brad held Drew, the Gwinnett Police showed up and started taking statements. Brad and Ken were in luck, and one of the officers worked with them occasionally as extra security at a local bar. While the police took statements, Ken came back with a Disney Store bag in hand.

Brad said, “Hey, Drew! Look here, buddy, I got something for you. Check this out, little man!”

As soon as Ken pulled the hoodie out of the bag, it caught Drew’s attention. The screen printing made it look like Iron Man armor.

“Wow! You’ll look just like Iron Man wearing this! Do you want to put it on?”

Drew actually smiled, perking up and nodding his head ‘yes.’

Setting Drew on the floor, Brad knelt, so they were at eye level.

“It’s hot out today, so let’s take your shirt off before we put this on, alright?”

Drew raised his arms, and before Liz realized what he was doing, Brad lifted his shirt up and off. Ken went white with anger at the sight of the burn scars and bruises, inhaling deeply in reaction and rubbing a hand over his face. Brad quickly put the hoodie on Drew and picked him back up. Glancing at the cops, Brad knew they saw them too. Crossing her arms and slumping her shoulders, Liz’s distress was painful to see, and her fear that Drew would be taken from her was clear.

She started crying quietly again, but Brad reiterated, “Liz, don’t worry.”

The cop they knew told them, “You know we have to call a caseworker on this.”

Brad said, “I know Frank, but Liz here is a good mom. That Fu…guy over there is responsible. I’ll vouch for her.”

There was a County Government Building close to the mall, and it didn’t take long before someone from Child and Family Services showed up. While they interviewed Liz, Drew was getting fidgety.

“Hey, Drew, I want you to meet my friend, Ken.”

Ken held out his hand, and Drew tentatively took it.

“Pleased ‘ta meet ‘ya, little man.”

Motioning Ken closer, Brad whispered in Drew’s ear, “Can you keep a secret?”

Drew still wasn’t talking but nodded his head yes, his eyes big and solemn.

“Ken is really Iron Man, but we have to keep his secret. He’s here to keep you and your mom safe.”

Ken looked at Brad like he was crazy.

“B? What’re you doin’?”

Drew frowned and said, “uh-uh.”

“Yeah, Drew, he is, and I can prove it. He’s wearing his armor under his clothes, but he doesn’t want anyone to know who he is. Do you believe me?”

Drew shook his head ‘no.’

“Okay, buddy, here’s what I want you to do. Stick your finger out and poke him hard right on his chest, and you’ll feel the armor under his shirt. Here, watch this.”

Brad stuck out his finger and poked Ken hard on his upper chest, shaking his hand and exclaiming, “Ow! That hurt!”

Ken caught on and was ready. Drew had a look on his face like he knew they were lying, but he stuck his little finger out and poked hard. Ken’s muscle and bone density, along with the fascia and connective tissues to support the increase, made him firm to the touch, but when he tensed his chest, it did feel like steel to Drew.

Drew’s eyes went wide, and he looked at Brad, who whispered, “See, I told you! But we have to keep it a secret, okay?”

Drew whispered in Brad’s ear, “Okay.”

The rest of the time Drew couldn’t keep his eyes off Ken.

<><> 

After the police finished and hauled Doug off to jail, Brad pulled Liz aside. Ken held Drew, who kept poking him in the chest and giggling.

“Liz, I know all this is a shock, but I want you to know everything is going to be alright. I can’t explain right now, and I might never be able to, but Doug is out of your life as of today. You’ll hear from him at some point, but he will never see you in person again. When he can, he’ll start sending money. More importantly, I’m concerned about Drew and how he’s going to handle all this. You know he’ll have issues to deal with.”

Her eyes red from crying all afternoon, Liz sniffed and managed to say, “I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Wilson. I don’t understand any of this. I was so scared for Drew and me. I tried leaving Doug before, but it always ended with Drew getting hurt.”

“Well, Doug can’t hurt either of you anymore. When things settle down, I’d like you to get in touch with me. I know a great doctor who can help Drew. There won’t be any charge, so don’t worry about money. I’d hate for Drew to grow into someone like Doug, but after what he’s been through, you know it’s a possibility.”

“I know. I hope he’s young enough to get past this. I’ll call you about that doctor if you answer one question.”

“What’s that?”

“Why did you do this? I mean why did you get involved, and how did you know what was going on?”

“All I can tell you, Liz, is I heard Drew cry. I heard him through all these people and all the noise and knew he needed my help. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s the only answer I have.”

“Well, angels come in all shapes and sizes.”

Giving her his most handsome, charming smile, Brad said, “I think I’m more like a knight in shining armor than an angel. That’s a little manlier image.”

“Thanks again, Brad, for everything.”

Getting on her tiptoes, Liz kissed Brad on his cheek.

<><><> 

Finally, Brad and Ken were able to leave. Their favorite Asian restaurant was attached to the outside area of the mall, so they called in an order and picked it up on the way to the car.  Both of them were ready to get home, and after the day they had neither one felt like cooking.

Brad remained quiet and pensive on the drive home, and Ken left him alone except for holding his hand. Their link was active, but Ken didn’t pry, he just made Brad aware of his love and support.

Brad was still pale and suffering residual effects of looking so deeply into Doug, but the worst of his headache was gone. The warmth and touch of Ken’s hand helped settle him, but even more so, Ken’s solid presence in his mind.

Arriving home, Brad parked the car in the garage, and Ken activated the security protocols. As always, he relaxed at the sound of the system engaging. Brad remained pensive, and Ken knew something was bothering him but didn’t push or try to ‘peek,’ knowing Brad would share everything with him soon enough.

Being in Ken counteracted the last of Doug’s nastiness, and once his stomach settled, Brad was starving. Ken’s stomach rumbled in agreement while he unpacked the food and Brad set out plates and drinks. While they ate, Ken kept the conversation light and unobtrusive.

After dinner, Lane called to check in and see how they were doing. While Ken talked to him, Brad cleared the table and rinsed the dishes before stacking them in the dishwasher. To prevent any soapy water from getting on his new shirt, he took it off while he was at the sink. 

Pacing around the den, Ken talked with Lane, expertly dodging the seriousness of the day, promising he and Brad would get together with Lane and Bryan in the next few nights before he hung up. When Ken set the phone back on the charger he stopped, staring at Brad, watching the muscles of his back move and stretch under his skin as he rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.

Noticing the silence, Brad glanced over his shoulder to see Ken perched on the back of the couch, staring at him, his arms crossed over his chest and his legs spread out. Brad froze in mid-motion as he reached down to close the dishwasher, staring back.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Brad asked, “What?”

His voice low, Ken said, “I can’t tell you how hot I am for you right now, B. Come here.”

Brad moved over, and Ken spread his legs wider.  Once in arms reach, he pulled Brad close, pressing his face against Brad’s bare chest while hugging him. Brad’s arms wrapped around Ken’s head and shoulders, and he lowered his head, resting his cheek against the top of Ken’s head.

“It’s been a long day, B, and not an easy one for you. I want you ‘ta share what happened, but first I wanna take care of you. I wanna de-stress you. I want you ‘ta feel how much I love you; all of you.”

Brad chuckled, kissing Ken on the top of his head.

“Damn, Ken, when did you learn foreplay?”

<><> 

Leading Brad back to their bedroom, Ken took Brad’s hand and kissed the back of it. 

Grinning, he said, “Mmmmm, the fresh taste of Dawn dishwashing liquid. Take your shorts off and get on the bed.”

Dropping his shorts, Brad got on his back in the middle of the bed while Ken stripped off his shirt and shorts.  Once naked, Ken crawled on top, straddling Brad’s waist.

Looking down at his partner, Ken took in everything about him, everything he loved.  Placing Brad’s hands above his head, Ken said, “Don’t move. This is about you.”

Ken’s warm hands started working their magic, touching the special places that turned Brad on.  His touch sensual and erotic, he enjoyed seeing Brad relax and his body react.  Lowering himself, he used his body as well as his hands, rubbing them together, careful not to put too much of his weight on Brad yet. 

He said he wanted to de-stress his partner, and he did, drawing out Brad’s pleasure. Ken wasn’t trained in chiropractic massage, but he had been on the receiving end of Brad’s hands for twenty years and had learned a thing or two, putting his knowledge to good use. Both of them were hard the entire time, but Ken maintained control and continued his ministrations, using his mouth, hands, and body to bring Brad as much pleasure as he could.  Through their link, he used his emotions in the same manner, pushing his love and affection into his partner through his touch.

Brad surrendered himself to Ken’s care.  It was a strange dynamic, almost a fetish on Brad’s part, but the fact that Ken’s hands were strong enough to rip metal, but also gentle enough to bring him such pleasure, was a huge turn-on. 

Finally, Ken turned his attention to the defining appendage of Brad’s manhood, taking him into his hands.

“God, B, I love holdin’ you in my hand and feelin’ how hard you are. I can feel your heartbeat. It’s amazin’. You’re amazin’, and you deserve more than I can ever give you.”

Looking at Brad’s masculine form, sweaty, muscular, perfect and desirable in every way, Ken watched him writhe and work towards a mind-blowing orgasm.  The sight affected him deeply, as well as the touch of their minds and knowing he was responsible.

Lost in the sensations, Brad couldn’t talk as he hovered on the precipice of an intense orgasm, and Ken read the signs of his imminent eruption. After an hour, Ken activated their physical bond, wanting them both to go over the edge together.

Brad couldn’t stand not touching Ken any longer, and his hands began to roam, caressing Ken in all the places he liked.  Their emotions, coupled with the shared sensations, culminated quickly and in less than a few minutes, both men, drenched in sweat, their movements frenetic, shared an earth-shattering orgasm.

When they finished, Ken lowered himself, covering Brad and wanting to be held.  He always put so much of himself into their pleasure he loved Brad’s arms around him while he came back to himself.  Brad’s hands roaming over his sweaty back soothed him while they caught their breath.

They continued cuddling and enjoying each other for a few minutes when a devilish grin crossed Ken’s handsome face, and he whispered into Brad’s ear, “That was one.”

Raising his head enough to make eye contact, they stared at each other, their eyes roaming over each other’s faces.

After a minute, Ken broke the silence, “You know what, B?”

Brad let out a lazy and very relaxed, “What?”

“I love you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Huh?”

Smirking, Brad said, “You need to use more syllables. I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Dude, don’t you know what the proper response is when someone says ‘I love you?’”

“Yeah, but you’re a douche.”

Chuckling, Ken asked, “What the fuck does me bein’ a douche have ‘ta do with you not usin’ the proper designated response ‘ta ‘I love you.’”

Brad’s smirk turned into a full-fledged smile, and he replied, “Nothing. I just wanted to piss you off.”

“Are you ever gonna grow up?”

Reaching down, Ken fondled Brad’s semi-hard erection saying, “Speakin’ of growin’… how do you want the next one?”

“Hmm, you know what I want?”

“What?”

“I want you to get off inside me so I can get all charged up, and then I want a repeat of the other night. I want to see every muscle in your body pumped and dripping sweat all over me. I want to see veins popping. I want every ounce of your weight on top of me, and I want you to squeeze me so hard I can’t breathe.”

 “But I want this ‘ta be about you, not me.”

“Ken, the last time you did that, do you remember the word I used to describe it? Think hard because it has more than one syllable.”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

Laughing, Brad said, “Now you’re getting it! The word, Mr. Habersham, was EPIC. When you get that way, it drives me over the edge. Believe me; this is not just about you… I have a selfish interest in wanting it. I want you to know how much I get off on you when you get like that.”

“Alright, Mr. Wilson.”

As Brad made his wishes known, Ken got more and more turned on by the thought of what he wanted.  Their eyes flashed white, and the devilish grin on Ken’s face returned. For the next few hours, Ken became ‘that guy,’ driving them both to unparalleled heights of pleasure. Ken maintained their physical bond while Brad held their minds tight, and every touch, every thought, every bit of pleasure resonated between the two men, until finally, exhausted, they collapsed together in a pile of satisfied, sweaty muscle.

Ken’s orgasm was so intense all he could do was stay on top of Brad while Brad caressed his back and shoulders. Brad’s legs, still around Ken’s waist, kept them connected. The weight and touch of Ken’s body sent Brad into his own state of bliss as he comforted his lover.

It was almost twenty minutes before Ken rolled onto his back. Brad rolled with him, resting his head on Ken’s chest and listening to his heartbeat while he continued touching Ken wherever his hands could reach. Ken put one hand behind his head, and his other arm wrapped around Brad, hugging him tight, almost desperately, like he never wanted to let go.

After a few minutes, Brad raised himself on one elbow, and with his other hand, brushed Ken’s sweaty hair off his forehead. Ken sniffed and cleared his throat, and Brad noticed his eyes were bright and teary.

Finally breaking the silence, Ken said, “B, I’ve said it before, but it scares the shit out of me how much I love you… How much you mean ‘ta me, and how much better we are together after everythin’ that’s happened. I can so lose myself in you, and it baffles me how you can feel the same way about me. I don’t deserve you, but I’m so grateful ‘ta be with you.”

“You deserve me, Ken, never doubt that. I’m the one who feels like he got the better end of the deal. We deserve each other, and we both know it. We can’t stay merged all the time, and to be honest, I don’t think we should, but at times like this, it reminds our hearts how much we love each other when our minds start to forget while we’re apart. And just for the record big guy, I’m grateful to be with you, too. I can’t imagine life without your ugly mug in it.”

Ken, completely relaxed and enjoying Brad’s roaming hands, lazily said, “So am I ugly, or am I a douche, ’cause I can’t possibly be both.”

“You’re the most handsome, courageous, studly, ugly douche in the world… and you’re mine.”

“Speakin’ of ugly douches, why don’t you share what happened today? I wanna get the whole picture.”

Brad opened his mind and Ken slipped in, and for the next few minutes, they stayed together, silent and content with no barriers between them. It wasn’t long before Brad shared his memories of earlier in the day, leading Ken through everything. Ken’s anger flared again when he saw how Doug hurt Drew and Liz, terrifying his wife and son.  

When Brad took off Drew’s shirt and Ken saw the burn marks and scars on the boy it upset him, but seeing the memories fresh and reliving them brought his anger back full force. It only took a few seconds to share everything, and when they separated, Ken breathed heavily.

That son of a bitch!

Ken, it scared me how close I came to destroying his mind. I could have so easily, and the world would probably be a better place if I had.

I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did B, but I’m proud of you for not doin’ it. I know the doc didn’t make us this way ‘ta be killers. When we ran missions in the war, it was different; that was a part of bein’ in the military. The doc knew that was temporary, and even though we could kill piece of shit dirtbags like Doug, I don’t think we should.

I’m glad you think that, Ken.

After a slight pause, Ken grinned.

Hey B, if you’re Freddy Kruger, next time can I be Jason X?

Brad couldn’t help but laugh. Ken rolled on his side, pulling Brad close to spoon him. With one arm under his head and the other wrapped around the man he loved most in the world, Ken drifted off to sleep. Brad, in his favorite spot, naked and spooned by Ken, fell asleep to the sound of Ken’s steady heartbeat and warm breath on his neck, holding the arm Ken had draped over him.

<><><> 

The next few weeks were nice and peaceful. Ken and Brad returned to work, and the whole Team resumed their regular routines. The only rule still in place was none of them ever traveled alone, and preferably with their partner.

With their workout schedules so extreme and the mandate to stay together, the doctor modified the gym at the lab so Brad and the other mentalists, as they now liked to call themselves, had everything necessary to work out alongside Ken and the stronger guys. The new equipment saved them an enormous amount of time, and the guys liked it much better.

The doctor also started regular counseling sessions, individually and with each couple, in regards to their developing abilities. All of the guys successfully tried the physical connection Ken and Brad discovered, and Bryan and Lane even merged completely.

After Brad’s actions in saving Ken, and what Lane was able to do, the other couples started experimenting, and the doctor needed to set guidelines. As far as merging with anyone other than their partner, the doctor left it up to them as individuals, cautioning them to approach it in a mature manner to avoid issues between them.   

<><><> 

Over time, Brad noticed a change in his and Ken’s attitude towards ‘normals,’ as they now called ordinary people. It happened gradually, but when thinking about it consciously, he noted a pattern emerging. He and Ken went out less, and in general, disliked dealing with people other than the doc and the rest of the guys. Except for necessities like grocery shopping and work, they stopped going to movies or out drinking. Brad mentioned his concern to Ken, and they decided to bring it up to the doctor.

Their next session happened to be later that afternoon close to dinner time, so they picked up food for the doctor and themselves on the way to the lab. No one else was there, so the three of them ate in the kitchen area, starting their session. It still baffled Ken and Brad how the doctor stayed looking as good as he did when he ate such greasy, fried food.

Once seated and eating, the doctor, perceptive as always, said, “I believe you have something you wish to discuss this evening.”

Brad said, “Yeah, doc, Ken and I talked about this, and we’ve noticed a change over the last few months. It’s been so gradual we didn’t notice it at first, but it could become a serious problem if we don’t nip it in the bud.”

“And what is this problem?”

“Well, sir…. from the first time Ken and I merged, our lives together have been better than ever. Neither of us ever thought we could be closer than we were before all this started, but when we’re truly together, without the nastiness and brokenness… Well, we wonder how we ever made it. Looking back, it’s amazing how blind we were, all the while thinking we were blissfully happy. Now, we can hardly imagine not being together like we are, which leads me to our current conundrum.

“Neither of us wants to be around normals much anymore, and it’s getting worse. Ken picks up, for lack of a better word, an echo from me of what’s going on around us. When we’re apart, it’s not so bad for him, but when we’re touching or holding hands, it can get extreme. All the things we shed in our relationship are distasteful, even painful to be around, and it’s gotten to the point where we don’t want to be around anyone else. It’s not a problem with you and the guys, but we can’t live like hermits.

“We still haven’t taken the full plunge with anyone else yet, although we’d like to with Bryan and Lane since they’ve already taken that step together. Mental communication isn’t the same as merging, but you still can’t lie, and it’s already brought our friendships with all the guys to a much deeper level. I’ll be glad when we’re at that point with everyone. We’re confident it won’t be a problem long term, even if there are some bumps along the way.

“I want to be clear we aren’t approaching this problem with any sense of ego or superiority over normals, it’s just getting harder and harder to be around them and seeing how the world works; how fragile things really are between people, and how the world essentially runs on deception.”

So far, Brad had done all the talking, and the doctor glanced at Ken with a questioning look on his face.

With a grin, Ken replied, “What he said, doc. We talked all this over in our heads…”

He paused and chuckled, shaking his head before continuing, “I’m still gettin’ used ‘ta hours of conversation only takin’ a few seconds.  ‘Ta me, it all boils down ‘ta this.  I think we have a purpose in this world that still isn’t clear, and we’re concerned we won’t be able ‘ta accomplish whatever that purpose ends up bein’ if we can’t be out in the world.”

Leaning back in his chair, the doctor wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin while pondering their comments.

“As always, your perceptiveness exceeds my expectations. I intended to bring this matter up, but I am glad you recognize the severity on your own. I have always known your development would reach this level, but honestly, it was not planned for many years yet. It does present a problem for you.”

An unexpected thought popped into the back of Ken’s mind, and he asked, “Doc, how did you learn ‘ta deal with it?”

Brad almost spit out his drink at Ken’s question.

Not batting an eye, the doctor asked, “Whatever do you mean?”

Grinning, Ken retorted, “Oh come on, doc, I think you know exactly what I mean, but I’m guessin’ you aren’t ‘permitted’ ‘ta talk about it, so let me throw a few ideas out for you. We’ve often wondered how you know so much about, like, everythin.’ There isn’t a field of science, medicine, or philosophy you aren’t top man on the planet in. I don’t think you’re like us,” Ken pointed to Brad and himself, “but you are somethin’ different, and I don’t think I’d be surprised at anythin’ you might be able ‘ta do. If you’re supposed ‘ta be our guide, you gotta have some experience with all this stuff.

“I’m not gonna push you on this, doc. I think that would be a bad idea for everybody, and I don’t wanna cause you any grief or complications. We love you like a father, and I want you ‘ta know I feel we need you more than ever, but we need ‘ta know how ‘ta cope with ‘all this,’ and I think you figured out how ‘ta do that a long, long time ago.”

As Ken spoke, the doctor’s eyes unexpectedly watered, and a single tear dripped down his cheek.  His posture changed, and lowering his head he dabbed the corner of his eye with his napkin.

Shocked, Ken jumped out of his chair, kneeling beside the doctor and taking his hand. Brad mirrored Ken’s reaction, and he followed, distressed at the doctor’s response.

“Sir, I’m sorry. Forget what I said. It’s not important.”

The doctor sat quietly a moment, gripping Ken’s hand while he regained his composure.

His voice almost a whisper, he replied, “On the contrary, Kenneth, it is more important than you can imagine. There is so much I wish to tell you that I cannot. Not yet, anyway. It breaks my heart to keep anything from you, but I have no choice. I love you like my own sons, and I am so proud of you.”

Brad said, “Sir, I’m sorry too. We didn’t mean to upset you or cause you any pain.”

“Nonsense Bradford, neither you nor Kenneth causes me pain or any of your brothers.”

Glancing at Brad, Ken continued, “With all due respect, sir, I think I’m startin’ ‘ta understand. I know you aren’t like us, but you modeled us after you, at least in a way. You have, or had a partner, and us talkin’ about this reminds you of him. I know you have things you can’t show us, but would you find it a comfort ‘ta communicate with us in that way?”

More tears leaked from the doctor’s eyes, and he was unable to speak. Nodding, he squeezed Ken’s hand again and put his other hand on Brad’s shoulder. Brad felt the opening and gently took Ken and himself into the doctor’s mind.

I am not sure this is a good idea, Bradford, and I would never have presumed to ask. In truth, I am not allowed to, but since you offered, I admit to a moment of weakness. Thank you, both of you, for this. It will make things easier in so many ways.

Brad and Ken were overwhelmed by the doctor’s mind. His intellect astounded them, along with a sense of light, strength of character, and deep sadness.

You are correct, Kenneth; I do have a partner. He is still alive, but we have been apart for many years, paying the price for a transgression made years ago. We hope to be together again one day, but meanwhile, I am here with you, to guide and prepare you, and love you.

When the doctor spoke of his partner, his sorrow was evident. The loneliness he must feel every day! It humbled them, knowing that for all the years he’d been with them, the doctor had someone he cared about more than life itself and not been allowed to be with him.

Doc, how can you stand it?

At first, it was unbearable, but over time the pain lessens.  I have my memories of our time together, and there is proof, recently, he is alive and well, which gives me hope.  Do not think for one second being with you two, or any of your brothers, brings me pain. You and the others make my life bearable! Never think otherwise, my boys.

Ken: So, doc, what does make it bearable; your situation and ours? How do you cope with the world? How did you cope with us before all of this? I can’t imagine how difficult we must have been to deal with, especially this Bradford yahoo.

The doctor barely smirked, but his humor at Ken’s comment ran through the link.

The answer, Kenneth, is extremely simple, yet deeply profound, and very difficult to follow. The answer, my boy, is love; unconditional love. It sounds simple, perhaps even foolish, but you must remember you were once as they are and realize what they can be. We must never think of ourselves above them, or judge them.

Doc, what about Doug and what he did to Drew? How can I love someone like that?

I never said it would be easy, but you saw in Douglas’s memories the events that led him to that point. Douglas Hasting’s does not have to be that man and could still choose a different path. Sometimes life takes people to a point where they can no longer change, but it is rare. Think of the first time you merged, and how painful it was, even as it was joyous. With your minds laid bare, you had to forgive one another for transgressions neither of you realized you committed against the other, not understanding how much you hurt each other even when you felt totally and utterly in love. Always remember that is how mankind exists. One day, perhaps, the world will be for everyone as it is for us. I cannot tell you more yet, other than it will be our job to make sure they have that chance. 

<><><> 

Driving home in silence, Ken held Brad’s hand, playing with his fingers or rubbing his thumb across the back.

Once home, after Ken activated the security protocols in the kitchen, he sighed and let out a heavy, “Aye, Kurumba!”

Brad chuckled, saying, “You can say that again. I’d say we have our emotional work cut out for us. What the doc described is definitely easier said than done.”

From the den, Ken looked over at Brad in the kitchen.

“Hey B, come here a sec.”

As soon as Brad came within arm’s reach, Ken pulled him into a firm, full-body hug, kissing his neck before resting his chin on Brad’s shoulder. Brad instinctively reached around Ken, resting his chin in the same spot. Sighing in contentment, they both smiled, and Brad squeezed tighter, rubbing one hand up and down Ken’s back.

They stayed silent, enjoying the physical connection and the emotions it invoked. After a few minutes, Ken pulled back far enough to untuck Brad’s t-shirt and lift it off. Brad returned the favor, and they resumed their hug, eyes closed, relishing the closeness and comfort of their bare flesh and minds touching.

They remained that way, gently swaying like they were slow dancing, for nearly half an hour. Both of them were hard, but neither of them wanted the feeling to end. Eventually, Brad broke the embrace and took Ken by his hand, leading him down the hallway to their bedroom. Neither one said a word while they each finished undressing the other, and once naked, they got on the bed facing one another.

Leaning forward, Ken started a kiss, but instead of the frenzied love-making that usually took place, they slowly stoked the fires in their loins, building up the heat. They weren’t merged, but their awareness of one another was in full effect. Ken hadn’t started their physical bond yet, not wanting to push things along too quickly, and they both thought at the same time:

Ken, make love to me.

B, I want ‘ta make love ‘ta you.

As usual, they smiled, laughing from having the same thought at the same time. Their eyes flashed white as their minds became one, with no barriers, no secrets between them, only total honesty with no judgement. Their breath caught and their eyes watered from the exquisite, blissful sting of the intense emotional intimacy, knowing that even with their faults, they accepted one another unconditionally. The doctor told them their ultimate mission involved loving people that way, and they started the journey down that path with themselves.

Their love and respect for one another, their shared pride and joy, fueled the touches and kisses between them. It would have been easy to lose themselves in the depths of one another, but they managed to stay on the precipice, each wanting to bring the utmost pleasure to the other in an act of pure physical love.

In all the time they had been together, neither had ever felt the intensity of emotion in that moment. Their physical lovemaking was always great, but with the connection between their minds and bodies so deep, the pleasure was almost unbearable. Foreheads pressed together, their arms around one another, they kissed the entire time, only stopping to breathe, and after an hour, their bodies were slick with sweat.

Muttering the first words in over two hours, Ken, shaking and trembling, whispered in Brad’s ear, “Oh God, B, I can’t hold off.”

Brad didn’t say anything but squeezed them more tightly together.  With their nervous systems linked, the shared orgasm took over.  Brad’s body strengthened as Ken’s DNA entered him, and when he knew it was safe, Ken hugged Brad as tightly as he could with his arms and legs. It was the most intense, longest-lasting, emotional and physical release either man ever experienced, and other than moans and heavy breathing, they were unable to talk.

It was nearly half an hour before they shifted, with Ken rolling to his side and pulling Brad against him, holding him. Intertwining his fingers with Ken’s hand against his chest, Brad put his other arm under the pillow to support his head. Ken was still semi-hard, pressed against the small of Brad’s back, and continued kissing his shoulders and neck.

It didn’t take long before they fell asleep, their minds one, never more content or at peace with themselves and each other.  

The Rhett Between

That next day was Friday, and something had shifted in me that I couldn’t even begin to explain. Too much was going on in my mind and I didn’t want to address any of it.

“I legit Googled ‘am I gay?’ Like some clueless teen in denial. The results? A BuzzFeed quiz, a rainbow flag, and Google politely redirected me to Pornhub with a knowing wink.

Secondly, all I could think about was Rhett.

Anna, my wife was packed and ready for her girls’ extended weekend before I headed off to work, so I gave her a hug and wished her a great weekend.

“See you next Wednesday Miles!” she called out as I left the house.

Friday was casual day, so I was in jeans, a light polo top and sneakers along with my backpack. As I got close to work, of course I slowed down as I rounded the bend where the construction site was.

I did see Rhett’s van, well, at least I assumed it was his from the day before, but also a bunch of other vehicles. But I didn’t see Rhett himself.

That day blasted me off my feet. I’d practically evaded any meaningful work for 48 hours while obsessing over the construction worker, and my inbox was bursting at the seams.

With my head down, I focused with the intention of going to the mall at the usual time.

But things went awry, last minute meetings, calls from tech guys, calls from clients, impromptu meetings with colleagues meant that by the time I even got a chance to rear my head, it was nearly 5pm.

I sat back and sighed. Damn. That meant there would be no opportunity to see Rhett until next week.

That put a damper on my weekend, especially with the wife away.

So I stayed in the office and worked until I made sure Monday would be a breeze, and if I decided to get a lunch break, I’d have time. Future me would be very grateful.

That night, I went out with the lads I hadn’t caught up with in a couple of weeks. Mark’s wife was with mine and two others, while Rick was eternally single and always free for drinks.

“Gonna come watch the game with us on Sunday Rick?” Mark asked our shorter, fitter friend as we entered our third round.

“Yeah, yours or yours,” he pointed to Mark, then me.

“Mine,” I said.

“Cool. Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

The pub was warm and loud, the kind of place that smelled like old ale and fryer grease and made you nostalgic for a life you’d never actually lived. Mark had claimed our usual booth near the dartboard, already halfway through a pint when Rick and I arrived.

We were barely sitting before Rick launched into a rant.

“Dating apps are absolute trash now,” he announced. “It’s like going to a buffet and realizing every dish is just a different version of disappointment.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you keep going back for seconds.”

“I’m an optimist,” Rick said, slapping his chest. “And a man has needs.”

I smirked. “You swipe right on anything with a pulse, don’t you?”

Rick grinned. “Two legs, not a complete psycho, preferably some form of job, that’s the dream, boys. Bonus points if she doesn’t talk about crystals.”

Mark shook his head. “That eliminates half the women in the city.”

“Don’t I know it. One asked for my star sign before my name. I told her I was a Gemini, just to make her fuck off.”

I smirked. “You’re not a Gemini.”

“She doesn’t know that.”

Mark tilted his head. “What are you really looking for, Rick? A girlfriend or a babysitter with benefits?”

“I’m looking for a woman who’ll let me play FIFA in peace and occasionally sit on my face. Is that too much to ask?”

Mark took a long sip of his beer. “Absolutely.”

I leaned forward, joining the rhythm of the conversation now that I felt the buzz of the alcohol kicking in. “You realize you’ve just described an imaginary person. That woman exists only in your dreams and maybe in Norway.”

Rick pointed his glass at me. “Exactly. Which is why I’ve decided to stay single forever and die mysteriously in a hammock or move to Norway.”

Mark chuckled. “Probably with a half-eaten kebab in your lap.”

“Better than dying bored in suburbia,” Rick shot back.

That one landed. Mark rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

I sat back and watched them both. This was familiar and comforting. No one here was asking me why I’d taken the long way to work two days in a row. No one was questioning the slight shift in how I saw the world this week. And I wasn’t offering.

Mark changed the subject. “So, Rick, you bringing a plus-one to my birthday next month, or are you sticking with your reliable date, IPA?”

“If I’m still single, I’ll bring your sister.”

Mark didn’t even flinch. “Good. She needs a tax deduction.”

Rick barked out a laugh and nearly spilled his beer. “She’s gonna love that.”

Mark turned to me. “What about you, Miles? You still getting laid, or has married life finally broken your will?”

I shrugged. “Define laid.”

Rick clapped the table. “God, I love this man.” He leaned over and wrapped his arm around me and kissed the side of my face. Mark clapped me on the other shoulder, also laughing.

We were all grinning, leaning into the noise and pretending everything was easy. But underneath it, I felt the gap widening between what I said and what I felt.

And I wasn’t ready to close it yet.

“Anna and I… we’ve been a bit out of sync lately,” I said, twirling my glass. “She wanted the weekend to think. So I let her.” I couldn’t believe I said anything out loud, but realized it was probably the alcohol.

Mark snorted. “Think about what? Whether she still likes missionary in the dark?”

I smiled, but didn’t answer. Just sipped my drink and let that one settle. The boys moved on, but my thoughts didn’t.

When Rick went to the bar, Mark leaned over conspiratorially, “you okay buddy?”

I was so distracted I had to shake myself. “Oh? Oh yeah, sure!”

“You sure?” He clearly didn’t believe me.

“Yeah. Just… a lot going on right now. Too much to process. I’ll be fine.”

Mark was a good friend, he didn’t push me. But he watched me from the corner of his eye.

Needless to say, I woke up that next morning with a blasted hangover and a late night email asking me if I was ready for a presentation Monday morning.

Which I’d completely forgotten about. And to make things worse, those files were on my local machine and not on a network drive.

I made coffee, I watched some news, then showered and threw some clothes on and headed off for a long walk to the office.

As I rounded the bend, I was shocked to see a lot of activity on the construction site.

They worked Saturdays?

Rhett’s van was out the front, and so were about a dozen guys all rushing in and out.

I walked slowly, in the hopes I’d get a glimpse of Rhett, but he did not make an appearance, so I continued on to the office.

My office was deserted, as it should be on the weekend, so I quickly copied files I needed to my online drive, and headed out.

When I walked past the construction site again, slowly this time, I did see Rhett mid-conversation with a bunch of other guys. They were laughing about something. I had the sense they were wrapping up.

Rhett looked over, then did a double-take, then quickly waved as I walked past. I waved back, a little nervously and continued walking. I wasn’t sure what I’d hoped would happen, but a weekend to myself might be the best way to get through whatever was going on with me these past few days.

I wasn’t far from home, but it was a bit of a hill on the return journey so I took it slowly.

A few minutes later, I heard music alongside me, then a sharp ‘beep’ and then the music was turned down. I turned to see Rhett in his van driving alongside me.

“Hey, need a lift?”

I froze. This was unexpected and I really was stuck for words.

He stared, waiting.

I still said nothing, feeling the awkwardness build.

“It’s okay if you don’t, just thought I’d offer,” Rhett said, and started to put the van into gear. He looked over at me one more time.

“Yeah, okay,” I said before I changed my mind, feeling the adrenaline surge through my body.

We didn’t speak at first. Rhett adjusted the volume on the stereo, something classic playing low in the background, and I stared out the window, trying not to replay the moment he waved at me like we were something… familiar. I was still hungover, dehydrated, and now mildly terrified that I’d have to confront whatever it is that was simmering under the surface.

“So you work Saturdays too?” I asked, just to fill the silence.

“Only when the client’s a pain in the ass,” he said, glancing over at me with a grin. “And when I want the overtime. You been to the office?”

“Just had to grab some files. Forgot I had a Monday deadline,” I said. “It’s been one of those weeks.”

He nodded like he knew exactly what I meant. “Yeah, same here. These guys’ve been busting my balls since Wednesday. But today was smooth. Early start, early finish.”

I directed him to my house, and we pulled up in front quickly. I was already unclipping my seatbelt when I felt him look at me.

“You got time for a break?” he asked, casually, like he was offering a coffee. But there was a beat underneath the question, something heavier.

I froze again. My front door suddenly felt like a locked vault. I couldn’t have him in there. Not in the home I shared with Anna. I hadn’t even changed the sheets since she left.

“I was thinking I might… just decompress a bit,” I said, keeping it vague. “Catch up on work. Maybe go for another walk.”

“Oh.” Disappointment.

I paused. What did I want?

“I mean, maybe today we can, just not… here.”

“I live around the corner,” Rhett said. “No pressure. Just thought maybe you’d want to chill for a bit.”

He was already stepping out of the van. I hadn’t even said anything. He came around to the passenger side and leaned in, hands in his back pockets.

“If you need to grab anything or get changed, I don’t mind waiting,” he added. “Totally up to you.”

I looked at the house. I could feel my heart pounding. I could say no, or I could keep pretending this was some weird curiosity. Or I could stop lying to myself.

“Or,” I said, slowly, “you could come in for a coffee?”

His face lit up. Not in a smug way, just… warm. Honest.

“Coffee sounds good,” he said.

I unlocked the front door and we stepped inside. The house was quiet. Still smelled like Anna’s perfume faintly in the hallway. Rhett followed me through to the kitchen, taking it all in like he was trying to picture my life.

I started the machine. He leaned against the counter looking relaxed.

“So, you always work Saturdays?” he asked, keeping it light.

“Only when I screw up and forget I’ve got a major presentation,” I said, pouring the coffee. “Wife’s away for a few days so I was going to rest a bit.”

We stood across from each other at opposite ends of the kitchen, mugs in hand. His shirt was smudged from the day, collar askew, hair a little messy from the wind. He looked good like that. Real.

“You got kids?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. We talked about it, but… life, work. Timing’s never right. And you?”

He nodded. “Same. Never married, though. Thought about it once. Didn’t take.”

I looked at him, trying to read between the lines. “That recent?”

“A while ago. Before I moved here. Clean break. No drama really, just one of those that made me wanna be single for a time.”

We sipped in silence for a minute.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said. “And… for not making things weird.”

He smiled. “Who says I’m not about to?”

I giggled. God help me, I actually laughed.

He looked down at his coffee, then back up at me, eyes soft. “Look… ” he trailed off, like he was about to say something awkward.

I stared, feeling that constant adrenaline coursing through me.

“I like you. I realize I don’t know you. And the past couple days, I thought maybe, we could… you know… explore that in bed.”

I swallowed hard, because I didn’t have a response to that. But I didn’t look away.

Not this time.

He watched me, relieved to have got it out.

But I wanted to understand something first. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Shoot,” he said, with that accent that was pretty hard to dislike.

“This thing with guys… it’s really new for me… “

He laughed. A lot. “Yeah, I kind of could tell.”

I laughed too. “That obvious huh?”

His grin was infectious. “Let’s just say that I expected you to bolt any second, so I’m surprised you didn’t.”

We both chuckled.

“Sorry… “

He cut me off. “Nothing to be sorry about. So your question?”

“Yeah. So, you’ve had a bit more experience than I have?” that was as diplomatic as I got.

That cheeky grin that stirred a lot in me and those blue eyes that just penetrated.

“Actually, not that much. Maybe a couple different guys over the past couple years, but really infrequent. Usually I keep to myself, but with you… “

I nodded. He didn’t need to finish. Somehow, I felt the same way. Whatever that was.

He put his mug down, and walked over to me. I stiffened a little, but he took my mug and put it on the counter, and put his hands on my shoulders.

“Absolutely no pressure. I live by myself. I’ve been wanting to explore more with a guy. Like try out a few things maybe. Doesn’t have to be. I’ve wanted someone to explore this with. Thought it might be you. And then I met you this week and… “

The compulsion to kiss him again was strong, so I did. I just moved forward and took us both by surprise.

He tasted like coffee and sweet. His lips were warm, his tongue was hot and his body was hard.

We kissed like that for a few minutes, pressing into each other, hips shifting with need.

Eventually, he pulled away, arms still around my shoulders.

“Got plans later?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “I’ll be honest, I want to…  And no, I have no plans the rest of the weekend. But… I am afraid I’ll back out. Just being honest.”

He smiled. Then gave me another kiss, then touched my cock briefly, which was begging to be released.

“What is it you’re afraid of?” he asked me.

I shrugged. “I feel like, I’m crossing a line that once I cross it, there’s no return.”

He nodded, those eyes let me know they completely understood.

“We’ll take it slow. Sound good? So, if by 5pm you’re not at my house, I’ll be here at your door and I won’t leave until you do it.”

I grinned. “That’s taking it slow?”

He winked. “Give me your phone,” he said.

I stared.

He waited.

“You’re not taking my phone,” I said, shocked he’d even suggest it.

He laughed. “I was going to put my number in your phone Miles,” and roared with laughter.

I did too, a little embarrassed to have misinterpreted.

I pulled out my phone and unlocked it. He saved himself in my contacts, then sent himself a text.

He waved his phone as he backed out of my kitchen, “now I’ve got your number and your address. See you around 5.” And with that, he turned and left.

I stood in the doorway long after he’d gone, phone still in hand, heart hammering like I’d just made a deal with the devil.

---

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this. The next chapters are already up on my Patreon. Things get messier, rougher, and even more real.
patreon.com/FoxEmerson

I loved my pub job. I went from introvert, to enjoying the socialising, and bathing in the company of others. I’m a little camp, especially after a few drinks, so it’s not difficult to pick up on my mannerisms. A few of the regular customers openly flirted with me, and slapped or pinched my bottom when I went round collecting empties. A gay couple, probably in their 40s paid me special attention, buying me drinks, though we weren’t allowed to drink on duty. 

My days off were usually Monday or Tuesday, as they were quieter. One Sunday evening, Justin and Jules, the gay couple, invited me back to their place. I cleared it with Gary, who looked a little disappointed, and walked home with them.

They had a pleasant 3-bed semi about a five minute walk. Indoors, they opened a bottle of red. I sat on a sofa, next to Justin, with Jules opposite in an armchair. After a few minutes, Justin put his arm around me, and Jules took his top off. He was still fit AF, with a defined torso. Justin turned my head, and we kissed, tongues entwining. We took our tops off, Justin was as ripped as his boyfriend. Jules came over and knelt in front of us. He undid the top buttons and unzipped us. My cock was straining in my boxers. He pulled it through a leg hole and licked its length. Justin and I carried on kissing as Jules gave me head. I found Justin’s dick and stroked it. He then whispered in my ear that we would be more comfortable in bed. Luckily, they had a super-king size bed. I nestled between them and they set about cock worshipping my big member. Jules sat on it first, while Justin and I kissed. He bounced up and down, tossing himself. I wanted them both to last, so told him to give Justin a turn. Justin tops, so I willingly pulled my legs up. Jules rimmed me and licked his boyfriend, then guided him in. He got into a press-up position and began thrusting. Jules gave me his dick to suck. We’d been at it about ten minutes, when he warned me he was getting close. I told him to go for it, and he gave me his babies. He dropped out and Jules licked the last drops off. He rolled off. Jules laid on his side, and I fed myself back into him, holding onto his waist and pumping slowly, using my entire length. Justin kept taking it out, sucking it and guiding it back in, so I could last for ages. He was tossing himself, and erupted over his thigh and duvet, so I sped up and delivered my load. We had another glass of wine, I dressed, and went back to the pub.

I crept in as quietly as I could, and slipped in behind a sleeping Gary. He must have sensed my presence, turning to kiss me. He turned around, now fully awake, for a proper kiss. His finger found my, still moist, hole. He immediately had an erection. Climbing on top of him, I lowered myself enough to give him room to thrust. Amazingly, I was hard again. I bounced, meeting his thrusts. I was bred for a second time, managing to put a load over Gary’s tummy. We fell asleep, sticky and contented, with him saying I could fuck the guys any time I wanted, if I came back still horny.        

A New Assignment

The gym showers at the high school were a steamy, dimly lit sanctuary. Jason and I were locked in a passionate embrace, our bodies pressed tightly together, the heat of our desire matching the warmth of the water cascading over us. Our lips met in a fierce, hungry kiss, tongues exploring and tasting, hands roaming.

Jason would pause for breath every few moments, his eyes darting over my shoulder to ensure no one was watching. The thrill of potentially being caught only heightened our arousal, making every touch more electric.

I whispered in Jason’s ear, my voice low and urgent, “Please..I can do it quick.”

He nodded, his voice a husky murmur, “Okay, but real fucking quick.”

He guided my head down toward his cock, his hands trembling slightly with anticipation. The sight of his hard, throbbing shaft made my mouth water, and I eagerly took him in, my tongue swirling around the sensitive tip of his penis. The taste of him, the feel of him, it was intoxicating. I could feel his body tensing, his breaths coming in short gasps as he neared his release.

Sudden noises echoed into the room. We froze as we heard the squeak of the locker room door. Our hearts pounded in our chests as the sudden adrenaline surge made every sense heightened. We jumped apart, spreading out toward farther shower heads. We continued showering, pretending we hadn’t been doing anything at all, our breaths coming in short gasps, our bodies still throbbing with unspent desire.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Thompson said casually as he walked in, his torso bare and his bottom wrapped in a towel. He moved with a confident stride, his solid frame well built and presented openly for both of us to see. I had never really noticed just how nice Thompson’s body was. He could probably lift me over his head and toss me to the other end of the room if he wanted. He casually removed his towel, revealing a massive, hung cock and smooth hanging balls. I couldn’t help but notice his huge ass as well, his bubble cheeks slapping back and forth as he moved.

“Thank god for running water and generators,” he nodded. He turned on a shower head in the space between Jason and me that we had created and began to shower with us as he continued. “God, that warm water feels good.”

I did my best to focus on the water streaming down above me, despite how large and erect Thompson’s cock had become in the running water. He used his soapy hand to stroke it a few times every once in a while, letting out an audible moan. Jason and I said nothing. As Thompson continued to suds up, his bar of soap shot out of his hand and onto the wet tile between us. 

“Wanna get that for me, Matthew?”

“Um — I…” My nervous breath was cut short by Thompson’s firming tone.

“Did I fucking stutter?”

I carefully lowered myself to the ground and picked up his soap, which had only fallen mere inches from his feet. I could feel his cock firm in the air right next to my face. It took everything in me not to look closer. Back on my feet, I handed the bar back to Thompson. 

“Thanks. So tell me men, how have patrols been?” he probed.

I responded first, trying to keep my voice steady despite the pounding of my heart. “We’ve made good ground. Stocked a lot of supplies for the group.”

Jason agreed, his voice matching mine in its attempt at nonchalance. “Yeah, we’ve covered a lot of territory. Found some useful stuff.”

Thompson nodded, his eyes never leaving ours, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “That’s good to hear, boys. I have some new assignments especially picked for you that I’d like you both to take on. Jason –  I want you to meet with Officer Kole when you’re done showering. Matthew – meet me in my office at 10:00.”

We both nodded, our hearts still racing from the close call and the unexpected intrusion. Thompson continued to shower, his massive form casting a shadow over us as he moved. The water streamed down his body, highlighting every muscle, every line.

As we finished our showers in silence, the weight of Thompson’s presence and the new assignments heavy on our minds. I stole a quick nervous glance at Jason. The memory of our passionate encounter was still fresh, the taste of him still on my lips, the feel of his body still imprinted on mine. We knew we had to focus on the tasks at hand, but the tension between us was palpable, a constant reminder of the connection we shared, a connection that was both exhilarating and dangerous.

I stood nervously in Thompson’s office, the door shut firmly behind me. The room was dimly lit, the blinds drawn to keep out the prying eyes of the world outside. Thompson was dressed in a set of army pants and a tight white tank top, his dog tags glinting in the low light. He moved with a confident stride, his muscles rippling with each step as he circled around me, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Alright, Matthew, time to talk about new assignments,” he began, his voice steady and authoritative.

I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady despite the nervousness churning in my stomach. “Of course, I will be of service to the group anyway I can.”

Thompson’s lips curled into a slight smirk. “Well, you see, Matthew, that’s exactly what this is about. Service. We all provide services based on our strengths. I coordinate in line with my police and military training. Officer Kole trains us with weapons and keeps our armory maintained. Officer Hernandez repairs our vehicles. We all play a role. And you have some special skills of your own, Matthew.”

I felt a cold sweat trickle down my spine as he continued, my mind racing with thoughts of being kicked out for the things that Jason and I had been doing on patrols. Thompson’s voice was calm, almost casual, as he spoke.

“I’ve heard about some of your adventures with our friend Jason on your patrols. Some interesting tales of sounds coming from your room at night. Explorations in the shower.”

I sat nervously, facing away from Thompson. My heart raced as he continued to list the things we thought we had done so good at keeping private. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Thompson continued, his voice low and measured.

“You may have noticed, we don’t have any women here right now. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles, I suppose. We are grateful for the men we have. But my men have needs too. And they have reached a point of desperation, you could say.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. I could feel the blood draining from my face, the implications of his words sinking in like a heavy weight.

“That’s why we need you, Matthew. We need your enthusiasm to provide… service. Understand what I’m saying?”

The room seemed to spin around me, the words echoing in my mind. Thompson’s expectations were clear, and the weight of them pressed down on me like a physical force. I sat there, frozen, my mind racing with a mix of shock, fear, and a twisted sense of curiosity.

“Oh now? Why so quiet? Don’t act like you aren’t interested. Couldn’t keep your eyes off my dick an hour ago. I bet you’re thinking about it right now.” He paused for a moment to jostle his thick bulge loose in his pants.

“Or maybe you want to sniff these pits? I heard your kind like that.” He lifted up his bicep to expose a bushy patch of blonde hair. My cock twitched. He was right. I hated that he was right.

Thompson glanced at his watch, his expression serious. “Alright, Matthew, come with me,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

I followed him, my heart pounding in my chest, the weight of his earlier words heavy on my mind. We headed down the hall, the fluorescent lights casting an eerie glow on the worn-out lockers and peeling paint. The air was thick with the smell of sweat.

We entered the athletic suite, the weight machines coming into view as we walked toward the wrestling pit. The red and blue padded mats covering the floor and walls gave the room a surreal, almost theatrical feel. I could hear someone moaning in the pit, the sound muffled but unmistakable.

Thompson smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes, as he guided me into the pit. The sight that greeted me was both shocking and erotic. Jason was naked, his body glistening with sweat, his ass arched up in the air in a classic doggy style position. Officer Kole stood above him, his massive cock slick and throbbing. He greeted me with a devilish grin before sticking it back up Jason’s hole, pounding into him with fierce intensity. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air, a primal symphony of desire and dominance.

I stood frozen, my eyes wide with disbelief and arousal. Thompson’s hand rested on my shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. “Hernandez!” he shouted.

Officer Hernandez appeared from around the corner, his cock already out and ready, a stern look in his eyes. He had beautiful tanned skin and a thick bush of dark brown hair. He moved towards me, his steps deliberate and purposeful. Without a word, he roughly flipped me down onto the floor next to Jason. The impact with the mat was jarring, but the shock of what was happening kept me from reacting.

Hernandez positioned himself behind me, his hands gripping my hips with a firm, unyielding grip. I could feel the head of his cock pressing against my hole, slick with lube. Before I could process what was happening, he plunged his dick all the way against my prostate, a grunt of satisfaction escaping his lips.

The sudden, intense pressure made me gasp, a mix of pain and pleasure coursing through my body. I could feel every inch of him as he began to move, his thrusts deep and relentless. The room was filled with the sounds of our moans.

Thompson watched, his eyes never leaving us, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “This is your service, Matthew,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “We all have our roles to play.” Thompson had removed his pants and had begun stroking himself as he watched the scene unfold.

I took a deep breath, steading myself for what was to come. The sight of Jason, his body writhing in pleasure, his moans filling the air, was exhilarating. And knowing how horny Hernandez was, how deep he shoved his cock into me. The desperation. Thompson watching us with careful precision. That was turning me on too.

As Hernandez continued to pound into me, I could feel my body responding, my cock hardening despite the confusion swirling in my mind. The room was a haze of desire and dominance, and I knew that there was no turning back. This was my role, my service, and I had to see it through.

Officer Kole’s grunts grew louder, his movements more urgent. With a final, shuddering groan, he came, his body convulsing as he spilled his release into Jason’s hole. “Like my cum, big guy?” Kole said breathlessly, his voice hoarse with exertion. “Look at you, fucking riding this cock. Now clean me up like the good cocksucker you are.”

Jason, his breath coming in ragged gasps, crawled over to Kole’s cum-covered cock. He looked up at Kole, his eyes filled with a mix of submission and desire, before taking the shaft into his mouth. He cleaned it meticulously, his tongue swirling around the sensitive tip, his lips sucking gently. 

Thompson’s voice cut through the heavy air, his tone commanding and authoritative. “Alright, Jason, now your turn to help here.”

Jason, still on his knees, looked up at Thompson who stood over him, his tank top now on the ground too as he began to play with his firm nipples. Without a word, he grabbed Jason’s head and forced his mouth onto his shaft. Jason’s eyes widened in surprise, his lips wrapping around Thompson’s thick member.

I watched as Thompson began to fuck Jason’s mouth, his hips moving in a brutal, relentless rhythm. The sound of slurping and gagging filled the space. Jason’s body jerked with each thrust, his hands gripping Thompson’s thighs for support. I looked down for a moment, a gasp escaping my lips as Hernandez shoved even deeper into me.

Thompson’s grunts grew louder, his movements more urgent. He was using Jason’s mouth with a fierce intensity, his eyes never leaving the sight of his cock disappearing between Jason’s lips. His body began to tense, his grip on Jason’s head tightening. With a final, shuddering groan, he came, his release spilling down Jason’s throat and overflowing onto the mat. Jason coughed and sputtered, his body convulsing as he struggled to swallow every drop.

Thompson pulled out, a satisfied smirk on his lips. He looked down at Jason, his voice low and commanding. “Good boy. That’s the spirit of service we need.” Thompson gave Jason a firm slap across his face before caressing the same spot with a soft rub. “Get the fuck out of here. We’ll send your boyfriend back when he’s done.”

Hernandez was breathing heavily now and commanded me to get on my back as he slid his throbbing dick out of my ass. He told me he was going to cum on my face like the little slut I was. And he did. This load spewed all over my face in thick ropes. Once he was done, he kneeled down and rubbed some of the cum onto his fingers before sticking them down my throat until I gagged. “What a good little slut.” He grinned. Herndanez left the room, leaving my cum soaked body laying naked on the mat. Thompson leaned against the wall and stared at me. He was still breathless from the orgasm he just had.

“Sorry you couldn’t get your mouth on my cock this time. Jason just seemed ready. I know I teased you all morning for it.” Thompson spoke, a surprisingly endearing tone for such an egotistical remark.

“That’s alright sir.” I said quietly.

“Why don’t you come over here and help me get dressed.”

At this point, I knew that any demand he gave would not be voluntary. I stood and walked over to his clothes scattered on the floor. First, picking up his soiled jockstrap.

“Give it a sniff. “ He said.

I obliged, inhaling the musky scent of the sweat stained fabric. I then lowered myself to his legs and began to slide the underwear up and over his bulky thighs onto his flaccid cum soaked cock. Then his pants and tank top. When I finished tightening his belt, Thompson gently grabbed my hand and held it against his pecs, encouraging me to rub them softly.

“I’ve changed my mind. I think Jason has plenty of service to provide for the group. I think I want you to be my special treat. I bet you’d like that. Now why don’t you give me a kiss and get the hell out of here.”

I paused for a moment, and then leaned into Thompson as he stuck out his tongue and began sucking on my lips. He gave me a firm slap on the ass as I walked out and it was done.

Jason was sitting on the edge of our bed when I entered our room. I sat next to him in silence, resting a hand on his thigh.

“I don’t know what’s worse, Matt. That our safe space has now been invaded. Or that a part of me liked it.”

“I’m not judging you. There’s something about their energy, their need for it. Maybe it gives us power. More than we think.”

Jason paused. “Not sure how sustainable this is though. Being treated like little sex slaves. Not exactly the paradise we imagined for ourselves.”

“We can’t stay here.” I declared. “That much is obvious. But maybe we should ride it out for now. Figure out our next steps. See what else we can learn about what the hell is even going on. Seems like we are the only one’s that care about that.”

Jason nodded in agreement. “No shit. All these fuckers want to do is gather more supplies. And blow their loads apparently. We gotta play it smart.”

“Oh believe me, I’ve got plenty of ideas.”

TO BE CONTINUED

The Night He Took My Virginity

I sit there on the porch, journal in my lap, staring at the words like they might rearrange themselves into something easier. I can’t tell if I’m writing to remember him or to forget him.

My phone buzzes again.

This time, I don’t ignore it. I glance. It’s Cal, my best friend.

Pack, bitch. London waits for no one.

I smile. Barely. Then shove the journal into my backpack, push open the front door, and head back inside.

My room’s a mess. Suitcase open, nothing inside. Outfits scattered like a clothing bomb went off. I try to fold a hoodie, then stop. It’s his hoodie. The gray one. The one he was wearing the night he….

I drop it on the bed and sit down hard, palms against my knees, chest tight. I’ve been putting this off all day. Not the packing. Not the leaving.

The remembering.

Because some memories deserve to be left untouched. Like museum glass, you don’t press too hard. You just stand there and admire, and ache, and move on.

But I can’t move on until I go back. One more time.

---

My eighteenth birthday

Luke didn’t say it was a date. Not out loud.

He texted me the week before. Said his parents were flying to Hawaii for their anniversary. Said he’d have the whole place to himself. Then he added:

Don’t make plans Friday. I’ve got something in mind.

I told him I had work that night. He told me to call out. He never asked like a boyfriend would. Never begged. Just said it like it was obvious I’d come. And he was right.

I wanted to. God, I wanted to.

I’d never told anyone how badly I wanted that night to be something. Something more than just a hookup. More than sweaty palms and stolen kisses and unspoken rules. I wanted to be his, fully. I wanted it to mean something. Even if we never said the word love.

Even if we weren’t a thing.

When I got to his house, the lights were dim. One lamp in the living room, the big one by the fireplace. He opened the door in sweats and that gray hoodie, the sleeves pushed up. His hair was messy, like he’d showered and let it air dry.

“Happy birthday,” he said, soft smile on his face.

I don’t know what I was expecting. A dumb card? A wink and a blowjob?

Instead, he let me in and everything smelled like cinnamon. I figured it was a candle, but then I saw the plate on the coffee table. A slice of cake. From that café. The one I kept mentioning but never thought he actually remembered.He lit a single candle and said, “Make a wish.”

I looked at him. This beautiful, frustrating, impossible boy standing there with cake and my favorite movie already queued up. And I wished for him.

Then I blew out the candle.

He didn’t touch me at first. Not during the movie. Not even when our legs touched under the blanket. We just sat there by the couch, side by side, me trying not to freak out, him pretending this was just a chill hang.

Halfway through the movie, he turned and looked at me.“Been thinking about this for weeks,” he said.

I turned to him. “What?”

He reached out, brushed a thumb against my cheek.

“This.”

And he kissed me.
Not like he did in the locker room. Not like behind the shed or in his truck after practice. This kiss was different. Slower. Focused. Like he had nowhere else to be. Like I was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

His hand cupped my jaw. His tongue was warm and slow and soft. My body went weightless. When we pulled apart, I think I whispered, “Why are you being like this?”

He didn’t answer. Just took my hand and stood up.

He led me to his bedroom.

I’d been there before. We used to play Xbox on the floor, eat snacks, argue over game scores. But now everything looked different. The bed was made. The curtains drawn. The room quiet in a way that felt intentional.

He shut the door and turned to face me.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” he said.

“I know,” I replied. But I didn’t pull away. “I want to.”

My hands were shaking. My heart was racing. But I wanted this. Him. All of it.

He kissed me again. Harder this time. And I let him.

We moved slow. Carefully. His hands slid under my shirt, lifting it over my head. Then his. I could barely breathe. His chest was tan and broad, muscles flexing slightly every time he moved. I reached up to touch him, fingers trailing along the line down his abs, and he hissed in a breath.

“You sure?” he asked, again.

I nodded.

“Never done this before,” I admitted. “Like… all the way.”

He stepped closer, kissed my temple. “Me neither. With a guy.”

That made something loosen in my chest. I wasn’t alone.

He laid me down on the bed and climbed over me, straddling me gently, his weight heavy in the best way. We kissed for a long time. Tongues brushing, lips parting, hands learning each other’s skin.
He didn’t rush. He undressed me piece by piece, looking at me like I was something sacred. I tried not to hide my face. Tried not to flinch when I got exposed.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

I moaned when he kissed my chest. My stomach. The inside of my thighs. Every part of me felt like it was waking up for the first time.

When he pressed a lubed finger inside me, I gasped.

“Just relax,” he said, voice low, mouth against my neck. “I’ll go slow.”

And he did.

Every step of it, he was careful. Asking. Listening. Adjusting. Until the moment he finally slid in slowly and my whole body arched under him. It hurt, at first. But I wanted to take it. I wanted to feel him like that. Closer than anyone had ever been.

He leaned down, forehead pressed against mine. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Don’t stop.”

And he didn’t.

He rocked into me gently, then deeper, the bed creaking softly beneath us. My legs wrapped around his waist. Our hands tangled. Our breath synced. He kissed me through it. Held me through it. Made me feel more real than I ever had.

I came first. Messy. Silent. His name bitten into my lip.

He kept going, moaning quietly, sweat on his back, jaw tight. When he came, it was with a grunt and a kiss against my neck, his hands cradling my face like he never wanted to let go.

After, we lay there. in nothing but our underwear. Tangled. Silent.

The only sound was our breathing.

I thought he’d pull away. Make a joke. Say something to undo the softness. But he didn’t. He kissed my forehad. Tucked the blanket around us. Wrapped himself around me like I was home.

“You okay?” he asked again, quieter this time.

“Yeah,” I said. “Better than okay.”

He smiled into my hair. “Good.”

I fell asleep with his arm across my stomach and his breath warm against my neck.

It was the first time I felt completely held.

The next morning, he made pancakes. Burned them, of course. We ate shirtless at the counter, legs brushing, shoulders bumping. He acted like we were something. Like I was his.

Even if he never said it out loud.

And for a while, I believed that maybe we could be. That the world would bend for us. That maybe, if we just kept choosing each other, we could make it work.

I was wrong.

But that night…that night…I wasn’t.

That night, he was mine.

---

I blink out of the memory.

Back in my room, the clock ticks past 2AM. I’m sitting on the floor now, knees tucked to my chest, Luke’s hoodie beside me like it’s waiting to be worn.I pick it up. Bury my face in it. It still smells faintly like him. Like that night.

Like the version of me I don’t know how to let go of.

Tomorrow, I leave for College.

Late night flight. Three checked bags and a heart that still doesn’t know how to pack this away.

I zip the suitcase, hoodie carefully packed at the bottom.

One last thing of his.

And maybe, that’s all I’ll ever get.

---

The Last Time I Saw Him

I barely slept.

By the time my alarm buzzed, I had been lying in bed for hours, eyes fixed on the ceiling, sheets tangled around my legs. My suitcase sat zipped in the corner. Passport tucked in the front pocket. Hoodie packed at the bottom where I could not see it but still felt it somehow.

My flight was at night. One more day.

Cal texted me first.

You awake?

I walked over without replying. He lived two streets over. It was early morning , the sky a pale gray, the kind of light that slips in gently before the sun shows itself. The neighborhood was quiet, wrapped in that hush that makes everything feel suspended. His porch light was on. I didn’t bother knocking.

He opened the door and pulled me into a hug before I could say anything.“You good?” he asked against my shoulder.

I didn’t answer right away. I just stood there, breathing in the familiar smell of his house, the faint cologne he always over-sprayed, the cinnamon from the toaster in the kitchen.

He stepped back, narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re going to see him, aren’t you?”

I looked down.

 “Troy.” He sounded… not angry exactly, just disappointed in me.

“He asked me to meet him,” I said. “Said it would be quick. Said he just wanted to say goodbye.”Cal let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus, dude. What else is there to say?”

I shrugged. “I just… I want to see him one last time.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. “You think you do. But all he ever did was mess with your head. And now you’re leaving, finally getting out, and you’re letting him reel you back in for what? Closure? He doesn’t get to have that. He broke you.”

“He didn’t mean to,” I muttered.

Cal looked at me for a long time. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s the problem.”

He hugged me again. Tighter this time. “Just… be careful with your heart, okay?”

I nodded.

---

The football field looked smaller in the morning light. Dew clung to the grass. The goalposts stood still. Silent. Everything felt paused, like the world had not yet decided what it wanted to be today.

Luke stood near the sideline. Alone. Wearing his old varsity jacket, the one he wore the night he pulled me behind the shed after practice and kissed me so hard I forgot my name. I hated how much I loved seeing him in it. Him, here. Away from prying eyes. Like something out of a memory I hadn’t asked to relive.He turned when he heard my footsteps. No smile. Just those familiar eyes, watching me like they always did…like he wanted to say something but never could.

“Hey,” he said softly.

I said nothing.

“I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to see you. One more time.”

“So you texted me at five in the morning.”

He gave a weak laugh. “I couldn’t sleep.”

 I looked over at the shed, a small smile tugging at my lips. “That’s where we kissed.”

“Yeah,” he said, eyes flicking to the goalpost. “I remember.”

Silence settled between us. The kind that felt too loud.

“I wanted to tell you,” he said finally, “that I’m happy for you. I know you’ve been wanting this for a long time. Getting out. Starting over.”

“Is that what this is?” I asked. “A pep talk?”

He looked down. “I didn’t mean for it to end like this.”

“But it did.”

Luke looked up. “Troy….”“You’re wearing the jacket I said I liked on you,” I said.

He glanced down, then back up at me. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I wore it for you.”

I swallowed. My throat already felt tight.

We stood in that stupid charged silence. The one we’d mastered. The one that always made me wonder if this time would be different.

I looked at him. Really looked at him. There were bags under his eyes. His hair still messed from sleep. He hadn’t come to impress me. He’d come because he needed to.

“I’m scared,” he said suddenly. “You know how much I… uh… like you.”

The words tumbled out quiet and clumsy. Not quite a confession. Not quite a denial. Just enough to let the door stay cracked.

But only because no one was around to hear it.

Luke was never good with feelings. Not unless we were in the dark. Not unless his hand was under my shirt. He loved me in the ways he could manage…fingers through my hair, late-night drives, falling asleep mid-sentence. But never in daylight. Never where it counted.

“I know you are,” I said. “But you don’t get to be scared and still have me.”

He stepped closer, his voice lower now. “Troy, I think about you all the time.”

“Then why did you let me walk away?” I whispered.

“I didn’t know how to stop you.”

“You didn’t even try.”

He reached for me. Fingers brushing mine.

My body betrayed me. I leaned forward, just a little. Enough for him to know I still wanted to be wanted. Enough to hope maybe he finally meant it.

His hand cupped my face.

I let him.

His thumb traced along my cheekbone like it was muscle memory. My eyes fluttered shut for half a second.

He leaned in.

But right before his lips touched mine, he pulled back, glancing toward the edge of the field. “Dude. Someone might see. The gardener’s usually up around this time.”

I opened my eyes. The air between us shattered.
There it was. The line. Always drawn. Always there when it mattered.

“Right,” I said quietly. “God forbid someone sees.”

“Troy,” he said. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” I asked, my voice cracking. “What was I to you? Am I just some blurry memory now? Some secret you’re relieved to be rid of?”

He looked like he wanted to say something.

He didn’t.

“You can’t even say it,” I whispered. “You can’t even name what we were.”

He closed the distance again. “Troy. I wanted you. I still do.”

My breath caught.

His hand found my jaw again, gentler this time. His eyes on mine. That same look I fell for a hundred times.

And then, he leaned in again.

I almost let him.

But I pulled back. This time, for me.

“Do you want to kiss me because you miss me,” I asked, “or because you’re about to lose me?”

He blinked. Hesitated. “I don’t know what I want,” he said.

I stepped away. Numb. “That’s not good enough anymore.”

“Troy…”

“You always do this,” I said, barely holding it in. “You pull me in just enough to keep me hoping. Then push me away before it means anything.”

“Troy, please.”

I shook my head and turned, already walking. My chest burned. My throat closed.

“Troy, don’t…please don’t do this,” he called after me.

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.
The tears came fast, hot and silent, falling before I made it off the field. I wiped them with the sleeve of my hoodie, quick and frantic, like I could erase what just happened if I moved fast enough.

But it didn’t work.

I cried all the way to the sidewalk. Quiet. Shoulders shaking. Because the truth hurt more than the lie: he loved me. I knew that. But he would never fight for me. And I couldn’t keep loving someone who only loved me in secret.
_______I didn’t go back to Luke’s. I didn’t answer when he texted. I didn’t open the voice note he sent an hour later. I couldn’t.

I walked home slowly, like I was hoping the day would stretch out and let me stay suspended in it a little longer. Like maybe I wouldn’t have to leave if the clock just froze. But time doesn’t do that. Not when you need it to.

My room was already half-packed. Walls bare. Closet hollow. I stared at the empty shelves like they were a body after someone moves out of it. The ghost of who I was here.

My mom tried to stay strong, but her eyes kept glancing at me like she was memorizing me. My dad didn’t say much, just carried my suitcase to the trunk and gave my shoulder a squeeze. That was how he said goodbye. Through weight, not words.

My little sister slipped a folded piece of paper into my jacket pocket when no one was looking. I didn’t read it. Not yet. Just pressed it to my chest for a second. Just held it.

The drive to the airport was quiet.

I watched the town blur past through the car window. The coffee shop. The gas station. The stoplight near the school where we used to sneak kisses in the backseat. Every place looked smaller now. Like it already knew I was leaving.

At the terminal, my mom finally cried. Full tears this time, arms wrapped tight around me like she was afraid I might disappear. “You’re going to do amazing,” she said, voice thick. “Just… don’t forget to eat.”

“I won’t,” I whispered.

My dad hugged me second. Pulled me in hard. “Make us proud, alright?”

I nodded.

My sister was last. No words. Just her pinky hooking mine like we used to do when we were little. I nearly broke.

But I didn’t.

I made myself walk. Through security. Past the gate. Every step a kind of grief. Every footfall echoing what I was leaving behind.

On the plane, I sat by the window and pressed my forehead to the glass. The sky outside was soft and blue. The clouds looked like they didn’t care about any of this. Like none of it mattered.

The seatbelt light flicked on. The engine hummed louder. The ground began to drift away.

And I thought of Luke.

Of his hand on my jaw. Of his mouth inches from mine. Of the words he never said, the name he never called me, the life he never let us have.

I thought of all the almosts. All the maybes. All the ways he could’ve loved me better but didn’t.

And I closed my eyes.

Because maybe this heartbreak was the price of freedom.
Maybe losing him was the cost of finding myself.

I exhaled.

The runway shrank behind me. The town disappeared under a sheet of clouds. The only thing ahead now was air and sky and whatever comes next.

I wasn’t running anymore.

I was walking into something new.

A different chapter.

And this time, I was the one choosing how it begins.

---

Author’s Note: I hope you guys enjoyed the first three chapters of Summer After Him, the first arc of “Everything Meant Nothing”Now, the story moves forward. The next arc is called Halfway to Him. This chapter takes Troy across the ocean, into a new country, a new college, and a world full of unfamiliar faces; some of them a little too distracting. There’s homesickness, late-night chaos, and cereal eaten in nothing but a towel. But more than that, there’s a chance to start over.

This is a story about rebuilding. About shedding the past, and maybe…without meaning to falling into something new.I will be posting all future chapters of this story on GayDemon as well. Please stay tuned.
The next five chapters are already available on my Patreon . Check it out if you want to support what I do and wish for early access to my content.Thank you for reading <3