Violated (27 page)

It was a warm, balmy night. The air still smelled of rain after the shower that afternoon, and the scent mingled with the citronella candle Russ lit on the table. They were surrounded by the odd hissing of cicadas that always reminded him of flying saucers in 1950s sci-fi movies, though they were almost drowned out by the chorus of frog song in the nearby marshes.

He and Derek sat in metal and nylon lawn chairs. Russ saw Derek reach for his pocket, then stop himself. “Did you bring your cigarillos?”

“I wasn’t sure I should smoke here.”

“It’s okay,” Russ told him. It wasn’t
entirely
okay. His father didn’t like smoking. But they were outside, and he knew it would help Derek relax. “Unfortunately there’s no beer in the house.”

Derek lit one of the cigarillos and inhaled deeply. He slowly exhaled the clove-scented smoke and then said, “That’s cool. I can live without it. I really should quit these. I’ve been leaning on ’em too heavily the past few weeks.”

He had, and Russ didn’t like it. He didn’t mind the smoke so much—clovies were a lot more palatable than regular cigarettes, as far as he was concerned—but it wasn’t exactly a healthy habit. On the other hand, pressuring Derek to quit smoking while he was dealing with everything else didn’t seem like a great idea.

They sat in silence for several minutes, Derek smoking and Russ just enjoying the pleasant feeling of companionship. His T-shirt was clinging to him, though it was hard to tell if the moisture was sweat or water leeching out of the damp air. Plus mosquitoes seemed to be sneaking in through the screens somewhere. They were both swatting at the annoying things. But Russ would rather be there with Derek than hot-tubbing in Vermont any day.

“I’ve been thinking…,” Derek said hesitantly. “If you wouldn’t mind leaving the door open—just a little bit, so I could convince my fucked-up psyche I wasn’t trapped—we could try sharing the bed. If that’s what you want.”

Russ didn’t dare respond. He was afraid to move in case he might somehow spook Derek. At last he realized he had to say
something
. “That would be cool.”

Derek laughed and leaned forward to stamp out the butt of the cigarillo on the brick floor of the deck. Russ realized he’d forgotten to dig up something he could use as an ashtray. Derek sat back in his chair and said, “I know I sound like I’m granting you some huge-ass favor, like I’m the fuckin’ Duke of Dickchester and I think you should be honored just to be in my presence….”

Russ didn’t want to jinx it, but even though part of his mind was screaming at him to shut up before he screwed it up, he had to ask, “You’re not doing it because you feel you owe me something, are you? Because if that’s it—”

“No,” Derek said firmly. “You’ve been great, and I do owe you a lot for being there when I’ve been falling apart and helping me deal with all this… legal bullshit…. But I’m not gonna…
put out
for that.” He snorted and shook his head.

“Good. I don’t want that.”

“What I’m feeling,” Derek went on, “is frustrated. If I’d met you before… the trip and…. Well, I did, of course, but you know what I mean. If we’d met when I was
single
and all this shit hadn’t happened, you would’ve had to beat me off with a stick. You’re gorgeous and considerate and I love being around you. I want to be with you. I just… can’t. Not yet.”

“You don’t have to.”

Derek huffed out his breath and rubbed his hand down his face. “Let’s try this, if you’re okay with it. I have to start somewhere.”

Russ couldn’t resist putting out a hand and resting it gently on Derek’s forearm. Derek twitched almost imperceptibly, then relaxed under his touch.

“All right,” Russ said. “But if you do feel uncomfortable, tell me to go to the couch. It won’t upset me.”

D
EREK
WAS
definitely nervous. But he’d been thinking about this ever since he’d napped in that enormous bed by himself. Before all this shit, he wouldn’t have thought twice about sharing the bed with Russ. He would have been delighted. Chances were good he might have been the first one to make a move. He hated that he was so fearful now. But Russ’s mom was a strong, confident woman who didn’t take crap from her husband or son. With her sleeping just down the hall, he felt he could do this. To his rational mind, the idea that he needed Russ’s
mother
to protect him from her son was beyond ridiculous. He was bigger than Russ, and probably a bit stronger, and Russ wouldn’t ever dream of attacking him, anyway. But his visceral reactions weren’t rational, and he couldn’t force them to be.

Once they were in the bedroom, his stomach began fluttering and threatening to heave.

“I think I need a glass of water,” he told Russ.

“Sure. I’ll go get one for you.”

While Russ was out of the room, Derek stripped to his boxer briefs and slipped into bed. He hadn’t slept naked since he’d left the condo, even though he hated the confinement of the briefs in bed. Maybe it was time to go back to sleeping in the nude. But not tonight.

When Russ returned, he carefully positioned the door so it obscured the bed from the hall but was still open by about ten inches. “Good?”

Derek took a deep breath and exhaled. “I think so.”

Russ looked at him closely as he set the tumbler of water on the bedstand beside him, carefully positioning it on a coaster. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not sure.”

“I’m never going to be sure,” Derek stated flatly. “But this is me getting back on the horse.” There was a sexual innuendo in there somewhere, but he wasn’t in the mood to joke about it.

Russ didn’t seem inclined to make wisecracks either. He watched Derek closely, as if trying to gauge his level of comfort. “Do you want me to sleep in my clothes?”

“That would be pretty obnoxious.” It was a warm night. “But would you mind keeping your underwear on?”

“Not at all.” Russ hesitated a moment, then began to undress.

Derek couldn’t help but watch. It felt lecherous, but Russ quirked his mouth up in one corner and looked directly into his eyes, so he knew it was okay. Derek had already seen his bare torso many, many times by now, but that didn’t make it any less beautiful or any less erotic to watch Russ peel off his sweaty T-shirt with a close-up of a German shepherd printed on it. When he stepped out of his jeans, Derek’s heart hammered in his chest. At this point it wasn’t possible to tell if he was more anxious or aroused. His severely neglected cock was harder than it had been in months.

But that didn’t change anything. If Russ had climbed onto the bed and begged to be fucked, Derek knew he’d break the sound barrier leaping for the open door.

Baby steps
.

“Do you still need a light on to sleep?” Russ asked, looking like a Greek god in boxer briefs.

Derek shrugged, not wanting to admit he did. He already felt like a frightened child. Next thing he knew, Russ would be bringing him a glass of warm milk.

“Hold on.” Russ left the room for a moment. Derek heard him wrestling with something out in the hallway, and then he came back, holding something in his hand. He found an outlet near the door and reached down to plug something into it. “There we go.”

It was a night-light. Even better, it was a
Donald Duck
night-light.

“Oh Christ.”

“Hey, whatever works.”

I
T
WASN
’
T
easy to fall asleep. In some ways, having Russ lying beside him was comforting in a way sleeping with Tim had never been. Tim had always needed Derek to be strong for him, psychologically if not actually physically. He’d turned hyperventilating over perceived slights at the supermarket or squabbles on Facebook into an art form, and Derek had always been the one to calm him and reassure him. Now, for the first time in his life, Derek was the one being looked after.

But the fear was still there. One minute it would subside until he was barely aware of it; then Russ would shift in his sleep, and icy fingers would crawl up Derek’s spine. A voice in the back of his mind would tell him, “He’s waking up! Get out! Don’t just lie there waiting for him to grab you, idiot!” He got through these little slices of hell by clutching the bedsheets in his hands until the irrational terror subsided, and he was able to remember that Russ wasn’t Victor and he could
never
be Victor.

This cycle repeated itself for what seemed like hours, but eventually Derek fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. Mercifully, he was spared the nightmares he’d suffered the first night Russ slept on his couch.

He awoke to daylight seeping in through the gaps in the curtains. He was lying on his side, and he could feel something against his back—something soft and more like a blanket than a person. He rolled over and found a pillow wedged into the space between him and Russ, mostly just separating their bodies. He could see over it.

Russ was still there, sleeping on the other side of the makeshift barrier. When Derek moved, he opened his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “How’re you doing?”

“Okay.” Truthfully Derek still felt tired. It hadn’t been the most restful night. But he didn’t want to tell Russ how hard it had been to sleep with him. “Where’d this pillow come from?”

“I put it there after I woke up with my arm around you. I didn’t think you’d like that.”

The revelation filled Derek with an odd feeling of sadness… mixed with affection for the man who was beginning to know him so well. For the first time since Victor had assaulted him, he wanted to… kiss someone—to kiss
Russ
. Nothing passionate or sexual. Just… contact. A thank-you. The thought made his stomach jittery, but he might be able to manage it. He had to at least try before his courage failed him.

He lifted his head and leaned forward to brush his lips against Russ’s, softly… tentatively. “Thanks.”

Russ’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment and he sighed contentedly, as if he’d been waiting so, so long for that simple gesture. Then he smiled and opened his eyes again. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”
And
Hallelujah!

From out in the hallway, Mrs. Thomas’s voice reached them. “Who took Donald?”

T
HE
INTERVIEW
at the Tampa PD was even more unpleasant than the one in Manchester had been. Derek found himself talking to a male police officer, which theoretically might have been more comfortable. He’d always preferred male doctors to female doctors, especially when it came to examinations of his testicles or prostate.

But this man had clearly never been fucked up the ass, willingly or unwillingly, and he was having trouble disguising how disgusting he thought it was. At the same time, he seemed baffled by how someone Derek’s size could be pinned down long enough for it to happen. Derek could tell he was half convinced it had been voluntary—maybe a hookup Derek had regretted later.

By the time the interview was over, Derek was shaking.

“All right,” the officer said as he closed his notebook, “we’ll contact the hotel and see if they can corroborate your story.”

“How could they?” Derek asked. “It was months ago. And I didn’t exactly run screaming out into the hallway.” He wished now that he had. Naked. And dripping blood out of his ass. Right up to the motherfucking front desk. Then they could shove their “corroboration” right up this prick’s ass.

“You said you bled and urinated all over the sheets, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, one of the maids had to clean that up. And she would have reported the blood to her manager, most likely. It’s standard procedure in most of the big hotels now. They have to keep an eye out for anything that might be used in an insurance claim later.”

They did? “If she reported blood on the sheets, wouldn’t they have called the police?”

The officer shook his head. “All they care about is liability. But they would have checked the security cameras and searched the room to see if they could sort out what went on there. If you’d reported it to us immediately, we would have gotten that info from them then.” He sounded vaguely accusatory, as he had through most of the interview. “But they might still have something on file. We’ll just have to see.”

Russ hadn’t been allowed to sit in on the interview this time. Instead he’d waited outside the room, chatting with the other officers and probably having a fucking grand old time. Derek caught his eye as Officer Jackass was escorting him out. Russ caught up with him in the waiting room.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“I need to get the fuck out of here.”

R
USS
WAS
almost as pissed off as Derek obviously was once he’d been filled in. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Derek’s perception that the officer had been unsympathetic was subjective—though Russ had no doubt it was accurate. He wasn’t sure if reporting it would accomplish much, except to alienate the officer on the case. According to Derek, the guy hadn’t actually done anything inappropriate. He’d just looked as if he wasn’t convinced. And that wasn’t likely to earn him any kind of a reprimand.

“You could ask for another officer to be assigned to the case,” he suggested.

“Would that help?”

Russ put his hands out to the sides. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Terrific.”

“Look,” he told Derek as they crossed the street to the parking lot, “we needed to get the report filed with these guys. So, fine. That’s done. Now they legally have to investigate and put it before the Florida DA. The guy you talked to—Officer Barkley—said he was gonna contact the hotel, right?”

“Yeah.”

“As long as he does that much, you might be making progress. If the hotel can at least confirm the sheets had blood and urine on them, it would be
something
to hand to the DA as evidence.”