Violated (9 page)

He wandered off to the front gate and, at last, Derek was free of him. Derek felt a constriction ease up in his chest, something he hadn’t even been aware of until then, and he dialed his home number. Tim was less than pleased when he asked for a ride. “What the fuck, Derek? I’m chopping vegetables for dinner. I thought you’d take a cab.”

“Yeah, sure,” Derek said quickly. “No problem. I’ll call a cab. Love you.”

He hung up before Tim could say anything else. The last thing he needed right now was a fight.

Through the glass windows at the entrance to the airport, he could see Victor still waiting for the cab he’d called. Derek turned to his right and wandered off to search for the restroom. He didn’t really need to go. He ended up sitting in a stall for about a half hour until he finally made a show of wiping himself—he was relieved when the toilet paper came away bloodless—flushing, and walking out, in case anyone had noticed how long he’d been sitting there. Victor was gone, so he called for a cab and went outside to wait.

D
INNER
WAS
great, as usual. Tim was a fantastic cook. He was even feeling somewhat romantic that evening, kissing Derek often as they moved about the kitchen and nuzzling him a bit in front of the refrigerator when Derek retrieved a bottle of white wine Tim had chilling. Derek tried to act as if he enjoyed it, but every touch made his skin crawl. It wasn’t Tim. He knew that. But he couldn’t help it.

By the time they were undressing for bed, Tim had figured out something was wrong. “Why are you acting so weird?” he asked.

“I’m not acting weird.”

“Every time I touch you, you flinch.”

Derek was unable to look him in the eye as he responded, “No, of course not. You can touch me.” He braced himself for it, but Tim didn’t make the attempt.

He gave Derek a sour look. “Gee, thanks. I’m honored.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just… I’m sorry. I guess I’m kind of dragged out from the trip home.”

Tim gave him a coquettish look, dropped his corduroys and boxer briefs in one motion, and stepped out of them. His body, lean and sharply defined, was beautiful to look at, and Derek felt a stirring in his loins. But he also felt a coldness in the pit of his stomach. He glanced away, feeling sick. “I’m sure I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”

Tim pouted a little but smiled at him as he climbed onto the bed. “Well, come to bed, then.”

Derek stepped out of his blue jeans and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers. For a moment he felt a strong desire to keep them on, but he knew Tim would think that was incredibly odd. Derek hadn’t worn anything to bed since they’d moved in together three years ago. He shoved the briefs down and stepped out of them. Then he had a moment of panic, wondering if there was evidence of what Victor had done to him—redness or swelling—that might be visible. There
had
to be. Derek could still feel it burning. But there was no way to check right now without making Tim suspicious. Feeling nauseous, he turned off the light and climbed into bed.

In the darkness, Tim wrapped his arms around Derek’s chest and Derek willed himself not to flinch.

“I love you,” Tim said, nuzzling his ear. His cock was stiff and pressed into Derek’s thigh.

Derek made no move to touch it. “I love you,” he replied, giving Tim a quick peck on the mouth. Then he rolled away from him and pulled the covers close to his body.

T
HE
GAY
men’s group in Manchester went by the uninspired name Manchester Gay Men. Russ was fond of the group, but he hadn’t been there in ages. Despite being the largest city in New Hampshire, Manchester was just a bit over 110,000 people, and the pool of gay men was still somewhat small. It didn’t take long to become an old-timer—someone who knew everyone in the group. Sure, new people wandered in occasionally. Some disappeared just as quickly; some stayed and became familiar faces. But the core group changed slowly. Russ hadn’t been to a meeting in almost a year but recognized nearly everyone, and they greeted him enthusiastically as an old friend.

He was a little disappointed. They were great guys, and he was pleased to see them again, but frankly he’d been hoping to meet someone new. Most of the “regulars” were either paired up already or significantly older than Russ. The group wasn’t a hook-up club, of course, and he knew that. It was there so gay men in the area could touch base now and then and feel a little less isolated. If he wanted to get laid, he could try a dating website or one of the sites notorious for arranging gay pickups.

Still….

It was about halfway through the meeting, while an older couple was going into detail about the beautiful, elaborate wedding they’d finally been able to have after living together for twenty-three years, that Ian walked in. He was younger than Russ and cute—blond hair, blue eyes, the face of a cherub. Russ remembered him from a year or so ago. At the time he’d been dating someone, but tonight he seemed conspicuously alone. Not that showing up at a gathering alone meant he
had
to be single, but Russ recalled that he and his boyfriend—Jay—had more or less been glued together at the hip.

Everyone greeted the newcomer warmly, but he quickly bustled off to the snack table so Tom and Rich could finish talking about their wedding. Russ watched him out of the corner of his eye, trying not to be obvious about it. Ian wasn’t the kind of masculine guy Russ normally found hot, but he was definitely appealing. He was delighted when the young man plopped down in the empty chair next to him, holding a plate of strawberry-rhubarb pie.

“You’re the cop, right?”

Russ smirked at him. “Yeah. My name’s Russ.”

“Ian.” He balanced the pie on one knee and reached out to shake Russ’s hand. “Sorry I’m so late tonight. I really wasn’t gonna come, but….” He laughed. “I guess I got bored.”

Russ shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I left my citation book in the cruiser.”
Smooth, Thomas. What are you gonna do for an encore? Offer to frisk him?

The thought was tempting.

Fortunately Ian laughed at the joke, such as it was. “So… do you really drive a police cruiser, even when you’re off duty?”

“Um… no. That was just a lame joke. Sorry.”

“I’m disappointed,” Ian replied with a grin. “Please don’t tell me the handsome cop drives a tiny Japanese car.”

Handsome?
“Well, it’s a…
large
Japanese car. A Subaru Outback.”

“Cool.”

As they bantered back and forth, Russ gradually realized Ian was flirting with him. It was kind of nice. Especially since the guy was now single—he mentioned at one point that he and Jay had a rather ugly breakup a couple of weeks ago. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it. It was very dramatic. Jay ran out of the apartment stark naked—he was drunk again—and I told him if he didn’t get his idiot ass back inside in five minutes, I’d call the cops.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. I gave him ten minutes. But then I called.”

“I must not have been on duty that night.”

“You might have gotten a kick out of it. He’s an alcoholic, and he has anger management issues, but I won’t deny he’s pretty hot.”

The bit about anger management issues caught Russ’s attention. “Did he ever hit you?” He realized as soon as he’d said it that it wasn’t any of his business. He wasn’t on duty, and Ian wasn’t reporting anything. He was just talking casually to a guy he’d met at the group.

Ian didn’t seem to mind the question. “No. But he broke things. And we argued all the fucking time.” He sighed and shook his head as if to clear it. “Anyway, I’m not here to rehash all of that crap. I’m done with it. I’m done with
him
.”

Russ knew it was bad timing. Ian was on the rebound, clearly. Dating him would probably be a bad idea for both of them. But as he glanced up and saw the other guys clearing the leftover food away and straightening up the chairs, he had a moment of panic. The most interesting guy he’d met in years—well, who was single, at any rate—was about to walk away from him.

“Would you… like to get together sometime?” he asked.

Ian smiled and nodded. “Oh yeah. I was hoping you’d ask that.” Then to Russ’s surprise, he glanced around quickly before putting a hand on Russ’s knee. He slid it slowly up along the inside of Russ’s leg as he added, “In fact, I was kinda hoping we might get together
tonight
.”

D
EREK
WOKE
in darkness and silence, utterly terrified. He was lying in a puddle of sweat, freezing cold despite the blankets, and shivering. He couldn’t remember if he’d been dreaming. His mind was a blank—nothing but fear against a backdrop of black.

He lay in the bed for a long time, gradually coming back to himself, remembering where he was, sensing Tim asleep beside him and Gracie sleeping near the bed. But the terror persisted, until it forced Derek to slip out of the bed and quietly leave the bedroom. Gracie woke the moment he moved and insisted on following him out. It would have made more noise to get her to go back into her bed, so he allowed her to tag along.

He went into the kitchen and turned on the light. The clock on the stove said 4:15.
Jesus
. He made himself some hot cocoa, heating the milk on the stove in a pan to avoid the
ding
of the microwave. He didn’t want to deal with Tim right now. He just wanted to calm himself. He could handle warming milk on the stove, getting Gracie a treat from the cupboard. He couldn’t handle explaining why he was awake at this hour.

He was naked and his robe was in the bedroom closet, so as soon as he finished preparing the cocoa, he set the pan to soak in the sink, turned off the lights, and retreated to the living room. There, he curled up on the couch and wrapped his body in the afghan draped over the back of it. Gracie curled up on the carpet near him.

He tried to remember what he’d been dreaming, but there was nothing there. It might have been about… what happened in Florida. That would make sense, wouldn’t it? But it refused to be coaxed from his memory, and Derek eventually gave up trying. He didn’t want to remember it anyway. What good would it do him? It had happened. He needed to stop being a baby and deal with it. A real man would have beaten the shit out of Victor the moment the asshole climbed on top of him. Derek had always thought he was capable of defending himself.

But you didn’t, did you? Why? Did you
want
it?
Maybe he had. Part of him had always thought Victor was sexy, even if he was a pig. Was it the same part that had made him just fucking
lie there
while Victor fucked him and came inside him?

Did you want it, you fucking come slut?

Even though Derek knew it was impossible, he still felt as if it was leaking out of him, soiling the blanket and the couch.
He’s still in you. He’ll always be in you, sloshing around in there. You’ll never be able to get him out.

He set the mug of cocoa on the end table, carefully placing it on a coaster, then buried his face in his hands. He wasn’t aware of crying, but somehow there were tears trickling down his cheeks and the underside of one arm.
This isn’t a big deal, you fucking baby! You had a dick up your ass. So what? Tim lets you do that to him all the time. He doesn’t freak out. He loves it! Why can’t you handle it?

By the time he’d gotten himself under control, the cocoa was cold. He thought about heating it up again on the stove, but he couldn’t motivate himself to get off the couch. He knew he should go back to bed, but the thought of going back into the dark bedroom made his stomach clench. So he just sat there, staring at the coffee table with its neat rows of magazines—
The Advocate
,
Martha Stewart Living
,
Taste of Home
,
Better Homes and Gardens
, the perfect life Tim wanted them to live. It was all ruined now.

Because you were weak
.

Eventually, the cold gray light of predawn bled through the window blinds, and the fingers of fear that prickled his scalp withdrew. Derek was too exhausted to keep up the self-recrimination. He just wanted to lie down again. So he turned out the light in the living room and went back into the bedroom, Gracie following him. It was light enough now he felt he could fall back to sleep.

When he pulled back the sheets, Tim stirred and asked sleepily, “Where have you been?”

Derek was tempted to say he’d just gotten up to go to the bathroom, but Tim would see the pan in the kitchen sink and the cocoa he’d forgotten in the living room, so he told the truth. “I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“You’re going to be nodding off at work tomorrow.”

Derek didn’t respond to that. He just crawled back into the bed. The sheets were disgusting—cold and clammy from sweat—but he couldn’t do anything about that without disturbing Tim further, so he endured it. He pulled up the blanket and tried to warm himself.

Eventually he fell back to sleep.

P
OLICE
O
FFICER
Russ Thomas wasn’t so macho he couldn’t take it up the ass, if that’s what his partner wanted. Sexual partner, that is. It wasn’t his first choice, but he could be accommodating if the situation demanded.

Apparently Ian had some kind of police officer kink. He’d asked Russ to don his uniform, which Russ didn’t mind, as long as it didn’t get covered with spooge or lube. He’d been willing to handcuff Ian to the bed but flat-out refused to let Ian use the handcuffs on
him
—he wasn’t an idiot. It would take a lot more of Ian earning his trust before he allowed that.

“What about the Taser?” Ian had asked.

“Are you insane? People
die
from being tased.” Russ had been tased as part of his training. It hadn’t been fun. Not at all. Certainly not his idea of erotic. “Besides, I don’t have one. And we’re not gonna play with my gun.”