Deliver Us (48 page)

Groaning, Micah cups himself, feeling a small amount of wet, warm blood seeping through the fabric under his crotch. Twenty minutes, he tells himself. Twenty minutes to patch up his wound, get a change of clothes and he can set out to do what no one else will. For Gabriel’s sake most of all, Micah knows he has no choice.

Darrek calls Gabriel from work at every available chance he gets. Sneaking off to hidden alcoves and wandering off-site to seek out privacy, he calls again and again, finding each time that Gabriel is fine, and relaxing with Sierra in the house or backyard. And each time, Gabriel doesn’t want to talk. He cuts the conversation short whenever it drifts into serious territory, finding excuses to go, whether it is Sierra misbehaving or a call on the other line. Of course, this only worries Darrek more, and provokes further calls.

Somehow, he makes it through the workday, and is happy to be driving home for a face-to-face talk with Gabriel. Darrek firmly believes that avoiding help and conversation will only make things worse.

Pulling into the driveway, Darrek can hear a reverberating, constant noise coming from their house, even from inside his truck with the windows rolled up and the house shut-up tightly. He leaps from the vehicle and hurries up to the front door to find out what’s going on.

Unlocking the front door, it slams it open. Darrek calls Gabriel’s name. It gets lost in the din of music, though. The lights in the house are all out except for a dim glow from the upper floor. Darrek follows it, finding that the pounding, bass-heavy electronica is coming from the bedroom as well as the warm, orangey light.

Darrek becomes less worried when he sees the light is from candles lit and placed carefully around the room, and sees new, black silk sheets on the bed. Stupidly he calls out again, knowing he can’t be heard over the noise. But just as he’s ready to search every shadowy corner and closet for Gabriel, he gets distracted by a note on the bed, the white paper stark against the inky black.

Picking it up and glancing around, Darrek reads the looping script upon it:
“Get undressed. Put on the hood. Lay stomach down and spread-eagle on the bed. Wait for me.”

He can’t help it when he rolls his eyes and debates following the instructions. This isn’t the time for this. Gabriel should be healing, not thinking about sex and falling back into his role as Darrek’s Master. Darrek doesn’t move and waves the paper around as he makes up his mind. Then his eye catches what’s written on the back of the paper. One word, underlined.

Please.

It helps Darrek do it, seeing that it’s not an order, that it’s a
request
. He gets undressed, feeling the weight of Gabriel’s stare on him from wherever he may be hiding, wondering if Gabriel is seeing him with his own eyes or has rigged up a video camera to do it for him. There are only so many places he could be in the small space and he appears to be in none of them.

Once naked, Darrek marvels at the hood for a minute, feeling its thick, leather texture, fingering over the breathing holes for his nose and the zipper in the back. They have never used anything like it yet in their sessions and it fascinates Darrek. He can see that it’ll blindfold him as well as keep his mouth closed tight.

Fitting it over his face, his hair cascading out the back from inside, he slowly zips it up and lies down on the cool, buttery-smooth sheets. Once his hands and ankles are spread, it’s only a second later before he feels the bed dip, smells the scent of Gabriel’s cucumber soap as Gabriel climbs on. Darrek wants to ask what’s going on, if Gabriel is all right. He would say a million things, and even the hood wouldn’t stop him from trying if it wasn’t for the godforsaken music rattling his brain and drowning everything else out.

Darrek is unsurprised to feel cloth tied around his wrists and ankles, keeping them in position. What happens next also doesn’t surprise him. Fingers rubbing lubricant into and around his hole accompany the warmth of Gabriel’s mouth, kissing over the dip of his lower back. Once he’s well-slicked, the narrow end of something hard and cool is pushed gently through the outer ring of muscle. Gabriel keeps pressing it inside a few inches before tugging it to the side as the wet trickle of more lubricant is dripped into the cavity. Then the toy is inserted with easy, rocking movements, a little at a time, until all eight, tapered inches are seated deeply inside his ass. Aching from the plug’s size alone, Darrek’s body adjusts to the intrusion, but Gabriel was too thorough with the prep and pace for it to hurt.

And then, Darrek waits. He waits to see what Gabriel might torment him with — what sort of beautiful pain or anguish will be his fate this night.

That’s when Darrek is surprised. He hums with sudden delight and content as the solid warmth of Gabriel’s body settles on him, and hands begin to knead at his tired muscles, working the tension out with careful attention. Starting up at the back of his neck, Gabriel works steadily outwards, massaging across the wide span of his shoulders, down his arms, and then over his entire back before going to his lower body. And every touch is punctuated by gentle kisses, presses of Gabriel’s full lips to Darrek’s rapidly overheating skin, and trailing licks from the point of his tongue.

Darrek’s full-body massage isn’t completed until even the ends of his fingers and each toe on his feet have been touched, shown love and care.

Relaxed from head to toe, Darrek’s moans sharpen behind the leather hood when the toy embedded in his ass is slowly pulled out. Gabriel plays with it, watching Darrek’s wet, pink opening swallow it up on each push. He watches as the ring of muscle catches, clenching around it, and tugging against the plastic each time it’s gradually extracted.

Then it’s gone, and Darrek feels loose. His muscles are soothed but there’s a tight, burning pit of need as Gabriel positions himself atop Darrek. Fingers dip inside his now empty and stretched-out orifice, touching him on the inside, stroking over the velvety-soft inner walls in the same careful way for a few precious moments.

Gabriel’s mouth seals around the junction of his shoulder and neck. Biting and sucking hard, he enters Darrek in an easy push of his hips, sheathing the length of his fattened cock. Darrek moans at the too-full feeling of Gabriel inside him, and savors the soreness radiating from the spot on his neck that Gabriel continues to worry. Biting gently and licking over the indents from his teeth and the hot, reddened skin, Gabriel deepens the mark. Every feeling is intensified by Darrek’s blindness, deafness, muteness, and immobility, as Gabriel wordlessly makes love to him. Each pistoning thrust of Gabriel’s cock pounds against his prostate in the most perfect way as he drowns in pleasure.

That’s when Darrek figures it out.

Sometimes there are no words, no explanations needed. Sometimes the best thank you is done through actions, not spoken in promises or pleas. Gabriel needed to thank him for being there when he was most needed, and he needed to do it in his own way, with control and a display of power.

Each time a small drop falls onto his shoulders, Darrek feels it, knows them to be Gabriel’s tears. He wants to be able to assure his lover about so many things or maybe just touch Gabriel and tell him again how much he is loved. But that’s not what Gabriel needs. He needs Darrek to do nothing but let him do this. So, he makes love to Darrek, with the bed vibrating under them with bass, teardrops peppering Darrek’s flushed skin. Darrek climaxes even before Gabriel does, the steady, unrelenting rhythm of Gabriel fucking him is more than enough to get Darrek off against the bed.

When Gabriel gets close, Darrek feels fingers clutching the nape of his neck, scratching over the leather covering his scalp. A tingle shoots down Darrek’s spine as Gabriel cries out in a jagged scream near his ear. Hips slap and stutter against the swell of his ass as Gabriel unloads, filling him up.

They lay there until Gabriel recovers. Then, before he moves to release Darrek, the music gets turned down enough that Gabriel’s words can be heard.

“I want to go to sleep. I’m not talking about anything. Not tonight. I need to just be with you right now. There’ll be time for talk later. Okay?”

Darrek nods, grunting his assent and shifts his arms in the bonds.

“That means no talking. Not even a word. Perfect silence. Can you do that? Or do I need to keep the hood on you while I get us cleaned up, and prepare dinner?”

He reluctantly nods again.

“If you can’t do it, the hood goes back on. We’re doing this at
my
pace, okay? I get that you’re worried about me, and that you love me, but this is an order.”

With a third nod, the hood comes off. The bonds are untied. He’s released. Darrek sits up on the edge of the bed, with Gabriel kneeling between his feet.

There is sadness but deep love in Darrek when he sees Gabriel and his red, puffy eyes. He places a gentle kiss on Gabriel’s lips then bows his head, waiting.

But there are no more orders. Gabriel hugs him and says, “Thank you.”

It’s a difficult night for Darrek to endure, but when he sees how the silence comforts his Master, how Darrek’s compliance eases frayed nerves, he is merely happy to give Gabriel what little peace he can as the battle against his ghostly demons wages on.

Trace is exactly where Micah expects him to be—bent over the engine of the classic Chevy parked in his garage. Parking on the street, Micah crosses the lawn in a straight line. The whole way he feels Trace’s attention zero in on him, knowing that just because Trace isn’t looking at him doesn’t mean he isn’t calculating the distance between them and planning the best ways to forcefully incapacitate Micah should Trace deem it necessary to do so, or hell, should the mood strike. It’s not like Micah is Trace’s favorite person in the world at the moment.

Trace doesn’t move. Micah gets as close as he needs to, inwardly giving thanks that Trace doesn’t lay a finger on him or knock him down to the concrete in a fit of uncorked rage in the name of Gabriel’s honor. Staying a foot or two away, Micah holds out a slip of paper, folded once.

“This is for you. Call it an act of contrition if you want.”

Trace favors it with the barest of glances before going back to scanning the fan belt for signs of wear. “What the hell is it? Your resignation?”

“Nothing so trite as that. It’s a gift, unasked for, but given freely.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Trace sighs tiredly. “I’m busy.”

Unwilling to turn back, even though Trace might never forgive him for what he’s about to do, Micah says bravely, “He’s a defense lawyer, specializing in child advocacy cases. Did you know that? I’m guessing you didn’t. I’m guessing even Gabriel doesn’t know that.”

The change these words cause in Trace happens so quickly, but so subtly and profoundly, that Micah has to make a conscious effort not to void his bladder in sheer fright of the man and what Micah knows him to be capable of. Like a starving tiger catching the scent of fresh meat, Trace turns on his prey. Pulling up to his full height and holding Micah with an unwavering, unblinking, predatory stare, Trace whispers, “What did you just say to me?”

“Harry Branden. His address, telephone number, email address, the name of his secretary, it’s all here.” Trace doesn’t move a muscle. The folded paper remains held out between them, untouched. “I already told you the name. Even if you don’t take the paper, you could still find him using that alone. It’s not a betrayal of Gabriel, it’s just happenstance overhearing of pertinent information regarding the true identity of his stepfather.”

Fluidly and without hurry, Trace reaches out to his left and wraps his fingers around a heavy, dirty wrench, gripping it like a weapon. Micah starts to tremble visibly. His testicles draw up. He thinks of his wife’s smile, the way she appears to glow with inner light when she’s truly happy, and prays that these moments aren’t his last in the world.

His voice is much less steady than it had been when he says, “He works with
children
. He’s been utterly unpunished for his actions. There was one charge, years ago, but it was settled out of court.”

Trace surges toward him, and Micah shuts his eyes with dread, trying to breathe though his throat has closed up. A hand grips his wrist painfully and he moans.

“
Please
,” he begs. “We could stop this. We could
end
this, once and for all.”

“You had
no right
,” Trace sneers viciously. “You went in his files. You....”

“It was easy. And I’m good at this, you know that. You knew that when you told me how you would never do it yourself. Now it’s done and all you have to do is decide whether Gabriel’s rapist deserves to be out there destroying the lives of who knows how many other helpless children.”

The fear for his life begins to dissipate, but it’s still a huge relief when the wrench clatters loudly to the ground and Trace uses the freed hand to take the slip of paper from Micah.

“Oh thank god,” Micah groans, willing his racing heartbeat to a slower pace.

A few minutes later, after staring avidly at the information neatly printed out, given over by Micah with all the deadly potential of a live grenade, Trace tells him quietly, “You follow my lead on this from here on out, understand?”