Deliver Us (29 page)

Drawing his knees up to his chest, he presses his forehead to his knees and says, “I was sixteen, Darrek.
Sixteen
years old
. He was... he was supposed to be my
dad
.”

Their relatively sedate afternoon is disturbed when a fist begins to pound heavily on the house’s front door. Gabriel walks to the front window and, through the sheer curtain, sees the large black truck parked outside.

“Gabriel Hunter, open the fuck up! I need to talk to you! Come on. Not leaving ’til you do, ya stubborn ass.”

Gabriel sighs, telling Darrek, who is behind him and lying on the couch, “Stay there. I’ve got this.”

“’Kay,” Darrek frowns.

He opens the front door and steps through, shutting it behind him, hands going deeply into his pockets.

“What?” he asks, squinting up at Trace.

“The fuck is going on with you, Gabriel? You cut back at Diadem, move more than half your shit out of the house and then avoid my calls. Benny won’t tell me anything... You living with this jerk now?”

“He’s not a jerk,” Gabriel protests, pulling his hands out and crossing his arms over his chest instead.

“No, he’s a
client
.”

“Not anymore.”

“Nice, Gabe. After what, thirteen goddamned years, this is all the explanation I get?” Trace scowls, throwing his arms wide, clearly very pissed off.

The words have a powerful effect on Gabriel. He is instantly taken aback, face softening, head bowed, and Trace looks highly satisfied at the reaction.

Gabriel explains quietly to him after clearing his throat, “Fine. You want an explanation? This is my decision. I’m happy with Darrek. He makes me
happy
. So yes. Yes, I’m living here. It just... kind of happened. I was going to talk to you.... I just hadn’t gotten around to it.”

Laughing a little maliciously, Trace asks, “What, you love him or something? ’Cause he lets you fuck him over? Real healthy, Gabe.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry. Christ. I’m sorry, I’m just... angry.”

“I can tell.”

“But do you? Love him?”

“Yeah, I love him.”

“He’s your
sub
,” Trace argues, almost pleading with him. “What kind of life are you gonna have with him? Is this like a power trip for you?”

“That’s not what this is about. I mean... yes... fine...he is still my sub. That’s just part of it though. That’s not why I...” he trails off, sighing, scratching and picking at his shirt sleeve.

“He treats you good?”

“Yeah,” Gabriel frowns, like it should be obvious. “Of
course
! Of course he does. I wouldn’t... I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.”

Trace’s voice gets quieter, glancing around, as he says, “I thought you didn’t like... you know... being with guys that were bigger than you. This Darrek guy is a
lot
bigger than you. He could....”

“No. No. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. He’s not like that.”

“You really know him that well? How long’s it been? A few
weeks?
If he tries anything... if he does
ANYTHING
to hurt you, I swear to fucking
god
, Gabriel, I will come over here and string him up from the nearest tree myself.”

“Which is why I never told you where to find Harry. You’re too goddamned impulsive. You’re even worse than Knox,” Gabriel accuses.

“I’m still waiting for that. One day... one of these days I’ll get you or Benny to tell me, and then there’s gonna be one more body rotting in the sewers.”

“Yeah, yeah, tough guy. So many tough guys around here.”

“I wanna talk to him. Let me talk to him.”

“Who? Darrek?”

“Yes, Darrek! Unless you’re gonna give me Harry’s phone number. I’d like to talk to him too.”

“I don’t want you talking to Darrek. He’s my responsibility. No one gets to threaten him or touch him or come near him.”

“Fuck you. Let me talk to him.”

“No.”

“Gabriel. I am not fucking kidding.”

“Neither am I.”

“I promise to be... nice.”

“No.”

Trace growls with frustration, pursing his lips, running a hand back through his hair.

“I don’t trust him with you! I don’t
trust him
!” he exclaims, jabbing a finger at the house.

“
I
do. I trust him, and believe me, I have pretty high standards.”

“Look, you can keep stuff at the house. That room will always be yours, you know that. So if you need to... whatever... change your mind, or have somewhere to crash....”

“I know. Thanks. I mean it. Thank you, Trace.”

Pacing in front of Gabriel like a riled-up dog, Trace tries one more time, “Please let me talk to him? Two minutes? Can I just look him in the eye once, so I’m able to sleep tonight?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, and sighs, “Fine. You can say hello and that’s it.”

“Thank you.”

Opening the door, Gabriel calls inside, “Dare? C’mere a second.”

A moment later, he appears in the doorway, blinking into the sunlight.

“Hey. You’re Trace, right?” Darrek says politely, extending a hand. He has a few brief flashes of memory as he looks Trace over, remembering his first experience at Diadem, and the many, many things Trace did to him under Gabriel’s instruction.

“Yeah. That’s me,” Trace says gruffly, and it’s there in
his
eyes as well—a dark amusement, an intense inspection, and the silent acknowledgment of all that came between them before.

Part of Darrek is still back there, bound and helpless, violated and stimulated. Remembered old screams and moans of ecstasy reverberate in both of their minds as Trace takes Darrek’s hand. He pumps it twice then keeps it gripped in his own, looking hard into Darrek’s eyes before releasing him.

“Nice to officially meet you, Darrek.”

“Likewise. And, um... I have a feeling I know why you’re here. I just want to assure you... I love Gabriel. I trust him with my life, and I promise that I will take good care of him, too.”

“Good. Glad to hear that,” Trace nods.

“Happy now? See? It’s fine. I’m
fine
,” Gabriel says to Trace. “And yes, he knows.”

“Seriously?” Trace asks, his doubt and surprise apparent.

“Yes. Of course! In fact, now he knows more than you do. So,
please
chill out.”

“Well, maybe if you
talked to me
sooner, I’d be less freaked.”

“He has a point,” Darrek admits, turning to Gabriel. “You do tend to shut people out.”

“Okay. We are not going to psychoanalyze me and you two are definitely not allowed to discuss me and, like, compare notes. Goodbye Trace. I’ll see you at work. If you can behave yourself, maybe we’ll have you over soon for dinner or something.”

After one more piercing, protective glare of warning at Darrek, Trace leans in and kisses the side of Gabriel’s face before turning and walking back to his truck.

They watch him leave then head back inside as Gabriel groans with weariness. He slumps down onto the couch and lets his head fall back. Darrek stands in the middle of the room watching through the window as Trace drives away.

“How much of that did you hear?” Gabriel asks.

“A good amount. Were you guys... was Trace someone that you... you know....”

“It’s complicated,” he sighs. “Look... you have to understand something. With our line of work... doing what we do... did... every fuckin’ day... for years upon
years
... you get kind of desensitized to some stuff. Not the important stuff, but... I’ve always had trouble finding people I trust to be with. I have needs, though. Everyone needs...
affection
... once in a while.”

“So, you were ‘affectionate’ with Trace?”

“In a way... it’s not like I love him or like he was my boyfriend. He’s... he’s Trace. He’s a good, loyal friend. But yeah... I mean... we’re just talking like a hand release here and there. A couple of blow jobs. And some kissing. That’s it.”

“Was it just Trace or....”

Running his hands over his face, Gabriel sighs and says, “No. Of course not.”

“Ben
too
?”

“Darrek, it’s just something we did to stay sane. It didn’t
mean
anything.”

“No, I understand. I do. I admit I don’t
like
it. At all. Especially the thought of them touching you like that. Kind of makes me really fucking nauseous, but... at least it’s obvious that they care about you. You deserve to have people care about you.”

“Come here,” Gabriel murmurs, waving him closer. He sits forward, elbows rested on knees, as Darrek kneels at his feet. Cupping his face, Gabriel brings him in for a kiss. It’s soft and slow, and then he says urgently, “I
love
you.”

Darrek places his hands over Gabriel’s arms, holding on to Gabriel holding on to him. Gabriel recedes back into his mind, getting farther away by the second. Images start playing there, rising from the murky depths of Gabriel’s memory, and he grips Darrek tightly as they come, unbidden.

It all boils down to one incident in particular, one that sums up all of his personal sexual encounters with Trace absolutely perfectly.

Gabriel is just getting home after a long day with three clients booked one after the other with hardly any breaks in between. Climbing out of his Land Rover Discovery, he slams the door hard enough to shake the SUV on its frame. He’s wired and dizzy with it all, every muscle strung tight and vibrating—angry, riled-up, mean and needy. Hands restless, his breath comes quick, blood beating in his temples, in his chest, in his hard and aching dick.

He sees Trace in the garage, sorting through wrenches; hands dirty, shirtless and sweaty.

“Trace! Need you! Inside. Fuckin’ now,” Gabriel pants, sounding hoarse and god, but it’s getting worse.

They lock eyes and Trace sees it in his face, in his posture and the darkness of his expression.

Gabriel doesn’t stop to see if he is coming or not. Stumbling through the front door, he flings aside his keys, which skitter noisily across the floor. Grimacing, teeth bared, eyes closing over, he leans back against the wall with hips canted forward as he fumbles with his buckle, getting it open, hitching his shirt up with annoyance, trying to get at the button-fly.

Trace appears in the doorway, wiping his hands carelessly on a rag. Stepping forward, as calm as could be; a stark contrast in control to Gabriel; he wraps a steady hand around Gabriel’s jaw, gently brushes a rough thumb over the place just under the pouting curl of his lower lip.

Grunting, Gabriel pushes him away with a hard slap to his left shoulder. Laughing, Trace grabs his arm when it winds back to deliver another blow. He smoothly pulls it up over Gabriel’s head, holding it to the wall even as the younger man continues to fumble with his fly, fingers unsteady and clumsy, just pushing, needing to get free of the constricting clothing. Taking that hand too, Trace brings it up and pins it with the other one.

There is a tense pause, then Gabriel bucks in the hold, tugging at his arms when Trace doesn’t move fast enough for his liking.

“Hush. I’ve gotcha,” he smirks, tugging the jeans down, one-handed, on Gabriel’s hips. As the younger man’s achingly full and reddened cock springs free, Trace chuckles darkly, just watching Gabriel fight.

“Hate you. Hate you when you pull this shit...” Gabriel spits at Trace’s patience and complacency.

Trace’s dirt-smeared hand closes tightly around Gabriel’s pulsating flesh, so fucking tight that Gabriel can’t stand it, but it’s perfect. He fights not to whimper, to show weakness, as Trace strokes quick and easily, squeezing out drop after drop of thin clear fluid from the slit. Pushing into the hand, helpless not to, Gabriel undulates in front of him. When Trace suddenly shifts his grip, circling around and rubbing under the crown, gathering pre-come to slick the way, Gabriel can’t hold it in anymore.

Glassy eyes stare up at the ceiling as he lets out a frail, plaintive whimper. Hanging from his wrists, he finally pulls hard enough to get them free. His fingers scratch, claw and dig at Trace’s shoulders, leaving red marks and welts on the skin.

His gravelly voice like thunder rolling in, Trace says low and quiet to him, “Come on, Gabey. Come on, baby boy. It’s okay.” Gabriel shakes his head once in answer.