Authors: Lynn Kelling
“I’ve got you,” Gabriel assures him. Turning Darrek around, Gabriel faces him toward the water, and loops an arm around Darrek’s waist, pinning their bodies together as Darrek’s knees
DO
give out. Quickly catching himself, though, Darrek presses his hands clumsily to the walls and opens his mouth, letting the clean, fresh water fill him. He swishes it around before spitting it back out in a jet against the far wall. He does it again and again, washing out the sour taste.
After moving to grab a washcloth so that he can use it to begin to wash himself off with soap, Darrek realizes the impossibility of the idea when as soon as he lets go of the wall, and takes his full weight onto his feet, his legs give out again immediately. Collapsing in Gabriel’s arms as his muscles turn to mush, he grabs the wall again while Gabriel guides him back upward.
“Let me help you,” Gabriel insists, a plaintive but unyielding edge to his voice. “You just stay on your feet and
I’ll
wash you off.”
“Yes, sir,” he responds automatically.
Gabriel does a thorough job, soaping him up, rinsing him down then repeating the process, even brushing Darrek’s teeth for him.
Each gentle touch, each caress of the washcloth over his skin, the particular way Gabriel keeps an arm slung protectively around him at all times, the feel of Gabriel’s fingers brushing the tangles out of his hair overwhelms Darrek. His grateful tears mix with the spray of water from above, trickling over his skin and washing the salty drops away.
When the water is shut off and the curtain tugged aside, Gabriel helps him step out and onto the carpet, Darrek’s muscles still weak, and his face pale and drawn with tiredness.
“Let’s get you in bed. Get you warm,” Gabriel tells him, wrapping him in towels and leading him out to the other room. Lowering Darrek down onto the bed, Gabriel dries his hair for him then gets two extra blankets from the hall closet.
Darrek falls back onto the bed at Gabriel’s urging. Gabriel climbs in as well, wrapping his arms and legs around him. Sharing his body heat, he covers them both in the blankets and rubs the warmth back into Darrek’s chilled flesh.
His eyes close almost immediately. Tucking himself further into Gabriel’s embrace, breathing him in, Darrek hears his Master say lovingly to him, “I forgive you, baby. It’s all over now. Sleep. Sleep and I’ll be right here with you.”
“Sierra...” Darrek mutters sleepily, frowning.
“I’ll let her in. Don’t worry. I’m taking care of you first, though.”
“Thanks, Gabe,” he whispers, hugging onto him tight.
Darrek is asleep as soon as the words leave his lips. Gabriel stays long after the shivering has stopped and Darrek’s breathing has become deep and regular, his snores a soft tickling rumble against his chest. He presses soft kisses to Darrek’s skin as he sleeps, and wants to never let go.
Eventually he does, and slips away to clean up the bathroom and take care of Sierra. He returns, though, and wraps himself right back into Darrek’s wonderfully smothering embrace.
Across town, ready to pick the front door’s lock in order to get inside, Ben wishes he knew where a spare key might be hiding. He soon discovers that it will not be necessary to go so far as to attempt breaking and entering. The door swings open with a push of his hand, without even touching the knob. Storming through the house like a furious force of nature, bursting into each room, one by one, it doesn’t take long before he finds who he’s looking for.
Kyle is in the bathroom off of the main bedroom upstairs, swaying as he stands over the sink, pressing the dulled edge of a steak knife’s blade into the flesh of his forearm.
“Hey!” Ben shouts, “Knock it off,” smacking the knife away.
It clatters to the floor.
Grabbing Kyle’s chin, Ben forces him to look at him. Pupils dilated and visibly dazed, it’s clear that he’s taken something, but what, exactly, that might be, Ben has no idea.
“What the fuck did you
take
, dumbass?!”
Kyle blinks and tries to push him away, slurring his words as he says, “Get off. I’m allowed. Get off me.”
“What the fuck did you
TAKE
?!” Ben bellows.
Kyle squints stubbornly at him, silent, so Ben slaps him hard across the face with the back of his hand.
“Fucking hell!” Kyle cries, his hand going to where his lip has now been split open and is starting to bleed, “Prick!”
Ben pulls his arm back, ready to hit him again, when Kyle throws his hands up in surrender and confesses, “Okay! I had a couple shots of somethin’, and I bought some tablets off of some dude at the bar down the road. I don’t know what it was. Don’t fucking care.”
“I care!” Ben spits at him.
He twists Kyle’s arm into a better position in order to get a closer look at the wound. Luckily Ben had gotten there before Kyle could do serious damage to himself. The cut is not deep and the blood merely trickles out, rather than gushing. He roughly tears away Kyle’s clothes, yanking his shirt up over his head, pulling his pants and underwear down.
“In the tub!” he shouts, putting all the force he can muster behind the words.
Kyle scowls but obeys without protest. He’s too well-trained not to, no matter how defiant he may be feeling.
Ben turns the knob and ice-cold water sprays onto Kyle’s naked body. Yelping, he tries to jump away, complaining, “It’s
cold
!”
“Fuck you! Get under the water, slave! We gotta sober you up.”
Pulling the nozzle free of its holder, Ben sprays Kyle down. When he sees his eyes start to clear, it’s a huge relief to Ben.
Shutting the water off, he pulls Kyle out of the tub. Pointing to the toilet seat, he barks, “Sit!”
Ben rummages in the linen closet and the drawers under the sink. When he finds what he’s looking for, he brings it over to Kyle. Wrapping his fingers in a vice-like grip around the wrist of Kyle’s injured arm, Ben holds him still as he quickly pours some hydrogen-peroxide over the cut.
Kyle shrieks as it burns into him, and tries to yank free.
“Hurts, don’t it? Man up, ya damn baby! Maybe you shouldn’t have cut open your fucking arm, huh?”
“Why do you
care
if I cut my arm?
You’ve
cut me before! Why can’t
I
do it? It’s
MY
body!” he spouts defiantly.
“When
I
do it, it’s with sterile equipment in a controlled environment and I’m not drugged up. You could have really hurt yourself! If you’d nicked a main artery, you could have died,” Ben growls at him.
He wraps the disinfected arm tightly with gauze then tapes the end down.
“Maybe I want to die.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Ben sighs, “You really that upset about your little boyfriend?”
“Stop calling him that!” Kyle licks over his lips, worrying at the cut with the point of his tongue and pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. Confused, the defiance temporarily gone from his voice, he asks Ben, “You know what happened with me and Darrek?”
“Yeah.
Duh
.”
“How?”
“You called me.”
“Oh. Oops.”
“Yeah. Oops,” Ben scowls, rolling his eyes. “Don’t remember that, huh? Such a fucking drunk-dialer.”
He yanks Kyle up and pushes him forward in front of him into the hallway, where Kyle trips over his own feet.
“Kitchen! You need coffee.
Lots
of coffee. Then we teach your ass a lesson.”
After three cups of black coffee and heaps of tense silence, Kyle finds himself beside his bed, on his knees at his Master’s feet, dressed in the first thing he could find—loose-fitting pajama pants and a shirt. Unlike Darrek, Kyle’s house is well stocked with a plentiful and wide variety of sex toys and gear. Ben has perused the collection and chosen a few items that have been laid out on the bed and are ready to go.
“You know what I think?” Ben tells him, finally breaking what seems like hours of unbroken and maddening quiet, Kyle’s eyes obediently locked to his. “I think you’re clinging so fucking hard to your ‘love’ for Darrek because it’s
SAFE
. It’s safe because you thought he would never feel the same way as you do. You could just love him in secret, and have the fantasy all worked out perfectly in your precious little head. Poor baby, aren’tcha? So fucking
tragic
, with your perfect unrequited love. You’re the ultimate victim. So damn
noble
. But you are so full of
shit
.
You
are just afraid of
reality
! You couldn’t handle it when Darrek wasn’t disgusted by you. Ruined your plans, didn’t he?”
Kyle juts out his jaw in stubbornness but doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink.
Ben crouches down and gets in his face.
“Do you love Darrek?” he demands.
“Yes, sir,” Kyle mumbles.
“Did you tell him you love him for purely selfish reasons?”
“...Yes, sir.”
“Is there anything you want to add in explanation of your behavior today?”
“Well... yeah... I’m also upset because Darrek was all ready to just fuck me, you know? Dare’s supposed to be the good guy. He’s not supposed to fuck around and be a cheater. He’s supposed to be better than that.”
“Better than you?”
“Yeah.”
“Spoiled your perfect little picture of him, did he?
Nobody’s
perfect. Not even lover boy
Darrek
.”
“I’m sorry,” Kyle sighs. “I’m really sorry. God. I’m such an ass. I want to be better for you, sir. Let’s do this. I’m ready.”
“What is this to you, Kyle?” Ben asks curiously. He almost smiles at the flinch Kyle makes at the sound of his name. “You think you’re playing me? Looking for me to hurt you so you can revel in the pain and feel better about yourself?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugs, looking away.
“Don’t play dumb with me. You are
not
dumb. You are the furthest thing from dumb.” Ben tilts Kyle’s chin up with his index finger, so that they’re eye-to-eye, “Did it freak you out that we were going to have a date? That we were going to move past the D/s shit? Is this you acting out so that you get a good, hard punishment from me? So that I’m good and angry at you instead?”
Kyle’s gaze slips away, eyes closing over.
“Look at me,” Ben hisses to him. Kyle complies after a pause. “I love you, Kyle.”
Flinching again, he breathes, “Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”
“No. Tough shit. I love you, Kyle, and I’m here only because I know that now. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have come. You
are
important to me and I want whatever this is between us. I’m going to do this, and punish you, because I know you need it, and because you deserve it. But I’m also doing it because I care about you. I’m sorry I couldn’t say it earlier. I’m a little...
resistant
... sometimes.”
Kyle doesn’t respond. He goes still as a statue and absolutely silent.
“Hmm...” Ben hums thoughtfully. “Fine then. Maybe I should leave. Maybe this isn’t gonna work. I think it’s time for us to take a nice, long break.”
He stands and walks to the door.
“What are you doing?” Kyle says with dread. “Stop!
Stop!
”
Ben doesn’t stop, though, so Kyle scrambles to his feet and chases after him.
“Ben, stop! Don’t leave! Don’t leave me!”
Running down the steps and catching him at the door, Kyle crumples at Ben’s feet and holds desperately to his ankles, begging, “Please, Master. I’ll be good for you. I’ll be the best slave you ever had—real loyal and obedient. I’ll be so damn good. I’ll stop... you know... trying to get things from you. I’ll just
obey
. No more fucking around. You were right, okay? I’m chicken shit! I’ve been trying to get you to care about me for so long. It was like a game, you know? But it’s
NOT
a game. It’s so fucking
NOT
a game, and
I know that
now. And I’m scared. I’ve never been so scared. I thought it’d be better this way. I thought it could go back to the way it was.”
Ben shakes him loose and grabs the door handle.
“
NO
! Oh god,
PLEASE
, master! Don’t do this!” Kyle cries, grasping pathetically at Ben’s feet.
Ignoring him, Ben pulls open the door even as Kyle tries to push it closed. He steps outside and begins walking down the path, out to the street where he’s parked. Kyle runs after him, still pleading shamelessly, trying to stand in his way. He falls to his knees in front of Ben again and wraps himself around Ben’s legs.
All Kyle gets is a cold scowl as Ben kicks him away like a stray dog. As Ben digs his keys from his pocket, Kyle is sobbing openly now, his wails surely waking his neighbors with their piercing volume.
Ben pulls the handle and opens the truck’s door, muttering tonelessly, “Maybe you’ll be able to find a new Dom somewhere that’s more compatible with you. You never know. Good luck with that.”
Crawling on the cracked asphalt, Kyle grips the hem of Ben’s pants, choking on tears, unable to get any more words out.
After one sharp, swift kick to Kyle’s chest that sends him sprawling back on his ass, Ben pulls the door closed and starts the engine.