Violated (19 page)

He finished his margarita, and Bobby automatically made him another one.

When Stephen groaned in climax, deeply embedded in his lover, and Ryan frantically stroked himself off, Brian wrapped his hand around Russ’s hardened cock. Russ started. “No!” he gasped.

“Not here,” Brian reassured him. “I’m just taking you upstairs.”

Pulling him gently along by his cock, Brian led Russ out of the room and up the stairs to Russ’s bedroom. There they fell onto the bed and frantically jerked each other off, moaning into each other’s mouths. It didn’t take long for them to make a huge mess all over their hands and stomachs.

“My God, that was hot!” Brian gasped.

“Yeah,” Russ admitted when he’d caught his breath, “but now I’m afraid to go back downstairs.”

Brian laughed. “You’re probably right. I don’t think I feel like walking in on our hosts going at it like rabbits.”

“No. Or Noah and Wyatt.” He was starting to feel uncharitable, so he added, “Not that they’re all that bad….”

“For guys their age.”

“Yeah.”

Brian snickered and kissed him. Then he said, “Usually, when I get off this fast, I can manage to get it up again after a few minutes.”

Russ figured he might be able to manage it himself. But the semen dripping down their bellies was starting to get cold. “How about if we shower first?”

D
EREK
SPENT
the weekend alone. Russ never came home—God knew where he was—and Tim didn’t call. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the latter. He was still angry about Tim’s refusal to listen to him, but he wasn’t prepared to end their engagement. Tim had been such a big part of his life for so long, it was hard to imagine being without him. Maybe a few days apart would help them both calm down so they could talk things out reasonably.

It was incredibly quiet in the cabin. Even when Derek went outside on the deck, he could hear little but the sound of wind in the trees, the gentle lapping of waves against the pier, and the distant cries of seagulls out over the lake. He’d never liked television, but he could understand why people who lived alone might need one. It would have made him feel less isolated. He had his laptop, of course, so he watched some movies on it and listened to music. He chatted on Facebook with “friends” he’d never met in person.

He slept with a lamp on in the bedroom—the one on Tim’s side of the bed—and he encouraged Gracie to sleep on the bed beside him. It might confuse her later, when Tim came back and they banished her once again to the floor, but he needed her near him right now. He still woke up around three or four in the morning, but the light and Gracie’s presence lessened the anxiety he felt. He couldn’t fall asleep again until the sky began to lighten, and then he’d sleep until almost noon. It was an established pattern now, and one he had no idea how to go about breaking.

By Saturday evening the isolation was wearing on him badly enough to make him pick up the phone. He was still mad at Tim, but somebody had to make the first move, and apparently Tim was too stubborn to do it. So, fine. Derek could be the bigger man. He dialed Tim’s cell phone and was frustrated when it went to voice mail. The bastard was probably ignoring him. But Derek decided to leave a message anyway.

“Hey. I think we should talk about this. I wasn’t able to tell you what happened because it was… humiliating. God, you have no idea! But it’s why I haven’t been able to sleep or… do anything. The fucker lied to HR because he was afraid I’d tell them what really happened. But I’m hoping… you can stand by me, you know. I really need—” He stopped talking when he realized the connection had dropped. There didn’t seem to be much point in calling again. Tim would listen to the message eventually and call him back.

But he didn’t. Derek kept the phone by his side all night, until well past Tim’s usual bedtime, but it stayed resolutely silent.

L
ATE
S
UNDAY
morning, after another hellish night, Derek woke with an erection. It had been a long time since he’d even thought about doing anything sexual, but he allowed his hand to wander down to his crotch and give his cock a few tentative caresses. This gradually evolved into stroking himself, causing Gracie to moan in irritation and move to the foot of the bed. But even this simple attempt at sexual gratification made him feel anxious, until his cock eventually deflated despite the stroking. He gave up in frustration, wondering if he’d ever be able to enjoy sex again.

“You need to pee?” he asked Gracie, and then got up to take her outside. The sky was slate gray and the air was cool for September. He stood at the edge of the lawn in his boxers, despite the chill in the morning air, and relieved himself. Then he led Gracie back inside for breakfast.

When his phone buzzed, he rushed over to where it was charging on the counter and picked it up. The name on the display chilled him, almost causing him to drop the phone. It wasn’t Tim. It was Victor.

Derek stared at the phone in horror while it continued to buzz. He couldn’t answer it, but at the same time, he was unable to put the phone down. Eventually it went silent and he was able to free himself from the paralysis that had gripped him. He set the phone down and tried to get back to fixing a bowl of instant oatmeal—tear open a couple of packets, pour the contents into a bowl, throw away the packets, take the teakettle off the propane burner….

The phone played a tone to tell him he had voice mail. Derek set the kettle down.

Fuck, fuck, fuck…. What the hell does he have to say to me? Is he calling to gloat?

He sat on the couch, staring blankly into space while his insides churned. The skin on his face and neck felt clammy, and he found it difficult to breathe. He remembered the night Russ had calmed him by having him count down from a hundred, so he did that, counting aloud. At some point, Gracie climbed up beside him and laid her head in his lap, so he stroked her fur absently.

Eventually he felt his breathing return to normal. His body was damp with cold sweat, but at least he felt in control again. Somewhat, anyway.

Gently easing himself up so Gracie’s head wouldn’t bonk down onto the couch, he stood and walked back into the kitchenette. His oatmeal still needed hot water, so he turned the burner under the kettle back on.

He glanced over at the phone sitting on the counter, but he ignored it for now. He didn’t have the strength to listen to Victor’s message, and he knew if he deleted it, it would drive him crazy. He needed to know what Victor had said, even though he suspected he’d regret it.

But not now.

He spent a long, miserable day sitting around, dwelling on his finances and feeling sorry for himself, interrupted only by calls to Tim’s voice mail. After the third call, he’d given up leaving messages. He tried twice more, hoping the bastard would finally deign to pick up. The last one had gone directly to voice mail, suggesting Tim had blocked him.

Fucker
.

He really wasn’t sure how he felt about Tim anymore. Things had been fucked up for so long. But he didn’t want to just end it without at least talking to each other.

T
HE
SEX
had been good. Russ couldn’t deny that. He wasn’t head over heels for Brian, but they’d just met. He liked the guy and found him attractive. He could see dating him, at least for a while. Maybe something would develop. It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?

These thoughts were running through his head as he packed up the car. He was dressed for the first time since he’d arrived, and the clothes were chafing. He’d never thought twice about clothing before this weekend, but now he could feel his underwear bunching up uncomfortably around his testicles and trying to ride up his butt crack and his dick being squished into his left pant leg. Even his shirt felt uncomfortable.

My God! What have these barbarians done to me?

It was too chilly at the car to hang out there naked—despite Ted’s insistence that the cold didn’t bother
him
a bit—and it was nearly time to leave, anyway. He couldn’t very well drive home in his birthday suit. He could just imagine the repercussions for his career if he got pulled over like that.

“Come on, Max!” He slammed the trunk. “Let’s go say good-bye.”

“Good-bye” was hard. Apart from the whole naked thing, Ted and Bobby were just like some of the older men at the group in Manchester—a bit out of his age range, sexually, but very sweet and entertaining. And Bobby knew how to mix a mean mai tai. He was going to miss them. The other guys there had been fun, and some had been pleasant to look at, but he hadn’t really bonded enough with them to stay in touch.

Though he’d never forget the night Ryan and Stephen fucked on the sofa in front of everyone. That wasn’t something he was likely to experience again. Not that he really wanted to. But it had been fun in a raunchy, I-can’t-believe-what-I-just-participated-in kind of way.

And he didn’t want to forget Brian. He hadn’t been the man of Russ’s dreams, but he was sweet and adorable. They’d had a good time together—a lot of sexy moments and a few tender ones. And it would be nice to have more of those in the future.

He wandered through the farmhouse, saying good-bye to people as he encountered them, and hugging Ted and Bobby. He finally found Brian upstairs in his own room, packing his suitcase.

“You’re heading home too?” Russ asked.

Brian smiled affectionately at him, his emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yep. Back to the magical fairy kingdom known as the Great Hut of Pizza—truly a land of wonders!”

“Maybe I should quit my job and run off with you.”

“Maybe you should.”

Russ came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Brian’s waist. Brian snuggled into him for a moment but then broke away.

“I’m sorry the weekend’s ending,” he said softly.

“Me too,” Russ said. “That’s why I was hoping to get your number, so we could stay in touch.”

“I’d rather not spoil it.”

Russ could practically hear the screeching of brakes in his head. “Spoil it?”

“We’ve had a wonderful time together, but we both know our lives are totally different. Besides,” Brian added, “I live way up in Burlington, and you live in Manchester, New Hampshire.”

“Rockford,” Russ corrected.

“You know what I mean. It’s, like, a three-hour drive.”

That didn’t seem all that far to Russ, especially if they were talking about getting together just a few times a year on vacations or holidays. But he knew when he was being shut down. He let his arms slip from Brian’s waist and stepped back.

Brian turned and gave him the same look Russ gave Max when he told him no, he couldn’t have another rawhide bone because it would make him sick. “Let’s just hold onto what we had this weekend. And maybe we’ll see each other again next summer. You’ll be coming back here, won’t you?”

After that, Russ couldn’t extricate himself fast enough. Once he was in the car with Max safely harnessed in the backseat, he pulled out of the circular drive and told his dog, “I don’t get it, Max. Is it me? Am I too needy? Do I have bad breath? You’d tell me if I did, right?”

Max wasn’t paying much attention. They’d just passed a squirrel.

D
URING
THE
day the mild drizzle became a full-on rainstorm. Derek considered the possibility of building a fire in the fireplace, but he was reluctant to do so. It seemed silly to do that at this time of year. On the other hand, it was fucking cold.

Not too long after dark, he heard a car drive in. He couldn’t tell if it was Russ coming home—
finally!
—or Tim coming to talk things out. That might have been good, though he wasn’t sure. At any rate, it had to be done. He was in his underwear, so he went into the bedroom to dress. To his surprise, just as he came out of the bedroom and went to put his sneakers on, he heard the car driving away again.

Fuck!

Derek stepped out onto the stoop, dismayed to see rain pouring down hard all around the small overhang. Up the path, in the small parking lot, he could see his car and something he couldn’t identify lying on the ground beside it. Was it a person? His heart leapt to his throat, and he ran up the short incline.

His feet ground to a halt in the mud, and he found himself staring down at a pile of debris. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing, at first. The street lamp didn’t cast much light on it, so it was hard to make things out clearly. Then he realized… it was
his stuff
! Everything he owned—his clothes, his iPad, his barbells, some of Gracie’s toys and her bowls, his Blu-Ray player and disks, the books he liked… his entire life for the past few years, all the time he’d spent with Tim, reduced to a pile of rubbish in the rain.

He stared at it for a long while, numb, while the rain soaked his hair and the clothes he was wearing. It was unbelievable. The books were most likely already ruined, along with the electronics and the more expensive clothing. The vindictive little…
snot
… had driven all the way out here just to dump his belongings on the ground like a pile of garbage. In the middle of a fucking rainstorm!

Derek’s hands clenched into fists.
It’s over
. They weren’t going to come back from this. Tim wasn’t going to stop blaming him for what Victor had done to him; he wasn’t going to call Derek in tears, begging him to come back. Even if he did, Derek couldn’t go back. Not after this.

I don’t love him anymore
.

The thought sent a chill up the back of his neck, as if it was something he wasn’t allowed to put into words, not even internally. He’d been avoiding it for months, afraid thinking it might make it true. He’d been telling himself over and over that he loved Tim. They were just going through a bad patch. But now that he’d admitted it to himself, he realized it wasn’t a surprise. It had been a long time coming. Even Victor, as obtuse as he was, had known they were heading for this. Probably Russ had seen it too. But Derek hadn’t wanted to end it. He hadn’t wanted to find himself alone again. He’d always hated being alone. That was why he’d clung to a failing relationship for so long. He’d probably be miserable without Tim, but it no longer mattered. There was no fixing it. There was no going back.