Deliver Us (43 page)

“You enjoy having Darrek fuck you, maybe even more than you want to admit, don’t you?”

Gabriel tells himself that Micah is only trying to get in his head and exploit his perceived weaknesses, that his uncanny ability to pick out the very things that bother Gabriel the most is disturbing, but simply him doing his job as Dom. It’s the same thing Gabriel would be doing in his place, finding the triggers, the sub’s vulnerable spots to manipulate and take advantage of.

Eyes closed, Gabriel tries to detach from his body and go to another place, a safer, better place, like he used to as a teenager. As Micah extracts his finger from his body, Gabriel blocks it all out with resolute determination. He doesn’t see Micah slip on the glove or hear the snap of the latex against skin. He also doesn’t see Micah get a good dollop of lubricant on his fingers from the dispenser on the cart.

Gabriel
does
feel it when two fingers are inserted precisely into his rectum. Digging deep, they curl up with a sharp, corkscrewing twist of Micah’s wrist and pull a strangled gasp from Gabriel’s softly opened mouth. Unable to move,
trying
to move, being touched intimately by someone he does
not
want touching him—Gabriel’s mind snaps. He bucks harder against the ties, but the knots hold and his dick does not lose interest as Micah finger-fucks his asshole.

“Don’t hurt me,” Gabriel asks softly as the ropes strain against his tensed body, his eyes going dull and vacant.

“Does it hurt? What you feel right now?” Micah asks, frowning. He prods Gabriel’s prostate. It makes his cock jump. Micah’s left hand closes around his dick, and he pulls on it rhythmically. Gabriel’s body clenches up around the invading fingers working in and out. “Answer me, slave, or you get another finger.”

“
No
.”

“No, what?”

‘I’ve played this game,’
Gabriel muses silently to himself in a broken way. He falls farther back into his mind, moving through space and time until he is back in his childhood bedroom with his old posters covering the walls. Someone is holding him down, touching him.

“Daddy....”

The word slips out, and it’s curious, simple and questioning.

‘What’s the magic word? The word that makes it all stop?’
Gabriel wonders from far away.

“Please...
please
, Daddy.”

A third finger penetrates him, forcing him open even more, and the hand jacking his cock speeds up as his balls draw up, preparing to unload. Tears fall down the sides of Gabriel’s face, joining others he did not even know he’s been crying. He makes no more sounds, just a single grunt as his body empties itself, contracting and sending jets of semen splattering over the ties across his chest and belly.

The hemp ropes get untied from his torso and then his legs. Micah helps Gabriel straighten out, and he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t open his eyes.

Gabriel is lying there, prone, mostly untied, all except for his wrists, as Micah walks away, over to the cart, leaving him there for the moment.

“Discovery.”

Micah turns to Gabriel. He doesn’t ask him to repeat himself. He just picks up a knife and cuts the rope in one swift movement.

Gabriel struggles up to a seated position and then hops down. Unseeing and silent, he wrestles out of the rope and walks in the direction of the showers.

When Gabriel does not emerge from the showers, even after Micah waits a full forty-five minutes for him, Micah decides to go and check on him. He finds Gabriel under the spray of water from the farthest showerhead on the wall, and from the way he’s shivering Micah determines that the water must have gone cold.

“Gabriel?” he asks tentatively, walking up to him. “Hey. Gabriel?”

There is no response, Gabriel just closes his eyes tighter, and leans against the wall with his flat palms braced on the tile. When Micah gets closer, only two steps away and just out of range of the water, Gabriel flinches away.

“Gabriel? Are you all right? What can I do?”

He looks so on edge and mentally absent that Micah’s concern grows dramatically, and he moves to step even closer, intending to grab the knob that turns the water off.

The movement startles Gabriel terribly, and he goes right into attack-mode, trying to defend himself from whatever he thinks is going to happen, from whatever he believes Micah’s intentions to be. Gabriel can still feel the other man’s fingers invading him, and bruises are beginning to come out, coloring his body on his wrists, torso and all down his legs. The ropes had held, but Gabriel had fought them the whole time, whether he realized it or not. It has taken its toll.

Gabriel kicks Micah squarely in the shin with his right foot. Micah hisses with pain but lunges to grab hold of Gabriel’s arms as he draws them back to deliver more blows. They struggle but Micah’s determination and calm wins out over Gabriel’s weak-kneed panic. Holding him still against the tile, getting drenched by the water spraying both of them, Micah holds Gabriel’s stare and says, “Calm down! I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Get off of me! Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking touch me!” His voice cracks on some of the words. “Help! Somebody help!”

“Gabriel!” Micah snaps, “What’s going on with you? I’m not letting you go until you calm the hell down.”

“Don’t...” Gabriel gulps, eyes darting away. He looks paler than is healthy, dehydrated from being in the water so long. He tries to shake Micah off whilst also trying to keep their bodies from touching. Overly aware of his nakedness, Gabriel knows how easy it would be for Micah to shift their stances slightly and proceed to fuck him, especially with lubricant already in his well-stretched-open body. He becomes convinced that it’s about to happen. It’s happened to him so often before that it seems unavoidable, no matter what he does or says. He can’t help the desperate frailness of his voice as he begs, “
Please
don’t do this....”

“Do what? I’m trying to help you. You’ve been in here for almost an hour! You don’t look well.”

“Just get off! I need to... I need....”

“If you weren’t okay with what happened in there, why didn’t you use the safeword?” Micah asks, confused.

“I did! I said it...” Gabriel whines. Then he appears to realize
when
he said it, that he said it after the fact, and that what happened was not Micah’s fault at all. He realizes that he wasn’t forced into anything, and that Micah had no intention to molest him. Gabriel moans, “Oh
Christ
! What the fuck is wrong with me?!”

“Can I let you go? Get you a towel?” Micah offers.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

They hear muffled noises from the upper floor, a bang and heavy, running footsteps. The noise gets louder, a deep voice that Gabriel instantly recognizes. He hears someone pounding down the steps and shouting his name.

Gabriel sighs, and feels new tears stinging his eyes. His knees start to give out, and Micah feels him start to collapse, so he tries to hold him up.

Then Darrek appears in the doorway, seething like an angry bull. Teeth bared, nostrils flared and red-faced, he’s across the room in a flash, yanking soaking wet and half-dressed Micah off a naked and bruised Gabriel, sending Micah stumbling backward against the rack of folded linens stacked neatly behind them.

“Darrek...” Gabriel moans just before Darrek spits out at Micah, “
You son of a bitch!!”

His fist connects with Micah’s jaw, splitting his lip open, smearing bright blood over his chin and Darrek’s fist. Then Darrek’s knee comes up, connecting hard with Micah’s balls, doubling him over and sending him collapsing to the floor, curling up in a ball to avoid further assault.

“Darrek!” Gabriel rasps louder, pulling at his arm, tugging him back and away from Micah. “Stop! It’s not his fault. I forgot the safeword. I....”

Darrek gets an eyeful of Gabriel’s eyes, red, puffy from crying, his unhealthy pallor and his shivering beneath evident bruises. Grabbing one of the towels, he hastily wraps Gabriel in it and encircles him in a hug, letting out the breath he had been holding all the way over from his work site.

“Did he rape you?” Darrek manages, somehow, to ask in a fearful whisper. “I couldn’t see. Micah was blocking the camera angle. I just heard your voice, heard
him
, and....”

“No, he didn’t. Not really. It’s my fault. I should have used the safeword, but it felt like... like before, with Harry, and I forgot where I was, and I forgot....”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. Come on, I’m taking you out of here. Let’s get you dressed and in the truck, okay?
Are you okay??
I was
so fucking scared
, Gabe! I drove as fast as I could.”

“Wait. Is Micah all right? You shouldn’t have hit him. He was trying to help. He wasn’t....” The words trail off as Gabriel’s knees give out again. This time Darrek catches him.

Giving Micah, who is still crumpled on the floor, an unforgiving glare, Darrek notices that the other man is beginning to recover.

Darrek growls, “Should fucking call the cops on you, you sick fuck! But I won’t, for Gabriel’s sake. Where the fuck is everyone anyway? No one’s upstairs!”

“The other building. The barn. Sam’s not in today. Don’t call the cops. The company might get in trouble. Micah, are you okay, man?” Gabriel croaks, biting his lip and pulling the towel closer around himself.

“Don’t worry about him,” Darrek grunts, guiding Gabriel away.

“I’m good. Don’t worry about me. Let Darrek help you,” Micah nods. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth.”

He wipes blood off of his face with another towel, dabbing at the spot and wincing as he shifts his legs. That’s as much as Gabriel sees as Darrek gathers his clothes, gets Gabriel into his pants before he even realizes Darrek is dressing him, and then they are headed upstairs.

They do not encounter anyone as they walk over to Darrek’s truck. After helping Gabriel get seated on the passenger side, Darrek jumps in and guns the engine. He puts his hand on the stick shift and pauses.

“Gabe, look at me. I don’t know the whole story here. What do you need me to do?” Darrek asks worriedly. “Are you injured? You look like hell. Should I take you to the hospital?”

“Let’s just get home. I don’t wanna talk about it. Not here,” Gabriel mumbles, folding his arms across his chest, clutching his crumpled shirt and underwear. “I don’t need a hospital.”

“Are you
sure
?”

“Yeah.”

When Darrek still does not move to shift into reverse, because he is too busy staring at Gabriel’s many bruises, Gabriel pleads, “Dare, come
on
.”

“Sorry. Yeah. We’re gone.”

The truck peels off down the road, stirring up thick clouds of dust and dirt as it goes.

They get home. Once through the door, Gabriel goes right to the steps and climbs them, heading to the bedroom. On the way, he undoes his pants and peels them open. Darrek is right behind him, and frowns as Gabriel digs in a drawer for clean clothes. Then Gabriel heads to the bathroom with shaking limbs, his hand fumbling at the doorknob.

“What are you doing?” Darrek asks, worried.

“Taking a shower.”

Darrek stares at the pruned and wrinkled skin of Gabriel’s hands, and shakes his head, “You’re too dehydrated. Let me get you a drink. Come and sit first.”

Gabriel sets his jaw and clenches his fists at his sides after setting the clothes on the counter.

“No, I need a shower. Now. Right now.”

“Then let me help you. Just to make sure you don’t collapse or something,” Darrek offers, brow still furrowed as he pleads with his lover.

“I can’t...” Gabriel sputters. “I can’t have anyone
touching
me right now. I just... need to be alone.”

“Tough shit. I’m not leaving you alone.”

Gabriel looks pointedly away from him and turns on the hot water, jeans opened but he does not move to pull them down.

“Gabe, look at me. Please?”

“No. If I look at you I’m gonna lose it, and I can’t lose it. I need to think. I need to figure this out. But... I’d like you to stay and wait here while I get clean.”

“All right. I can do that,” Darrek nods, biting his thumbnail with anxiousness.

“Um... can you turn around while I...?”

Just for a second, Darrek’s face twists with pain at the stark contrast of the self-assured man that Gabriel had displayed just that morning, compared to the broken and terrified trembling man before him now, afraid to be naked in his presence.

Chewing at the inside of his cheek, Darrek does as requested and turns to give his Master privacy.

The next twenty minutes pass slowly as the room fills with steam, and Darrek listens to Gabriel scrub frantically at his skin with soap and a washcloth, breathing raggedly and roughly. When the water is shut off, Darrek hands Gabriel a towel and goes to the doorway, turning his back again while he gets dressed.

“Okay,” Gabriel says from behind him.

Darrek lets him pass. Gabriel goes to the closet, pulls out one of Darrek’s extra large hooded sweatshirts, and slips it on. Swimming in its bulkiness, he stuffs his hands in the pockets in front and goes downstairs. Sitting curled up on the couch, he pulls out his phone while Darrek goes to let Sierra in from the backyard and get Gabriel a glass of orange juice.