Wild Raspberries (6 page)

“What? Blow me to say thank you? No thanks.”

He flashed on what that would be like and almost wanted to kneel down just to feel Tyler’s hand stroke his hair with the kindness showing through as it did now and then. “No. Not that. We’re even; I don’t need to. You helped me, I’m helping you.”

“True enough.” Tyler yawned. “I’m dead on my feet here, boy, and so are you. Go and jerk off in the bathroom if you still feel the need —
not
on the couch — and get some sleep. And don’t worry; I won’t hear you; the walls are thick.”

It was amazing how relaxed he felt around Tyler; if his daddy had said something like that to him — not that he ever would have — Dan would’ve just about died on the spot. Relaxed enough that he could admit, “I tried that earlier and I couldn’t.”

Tyler’s gaze flicked down and back up to Dan’s face. “You don’t look like you’ve got a problem from here.”

“I do it solo and I — I keep thinking about — I can’t
stop
thinking about —” He stumbled to a dead halt, his eyes stinging. No. No tears. Not in front of a man who’d fallen off a freaking roof without yelling.

“How many have there been since you left home?” Tyler sounded mildly curious rather than sympathetic, which kept Dan’s tears in his eyes.

“Five.”

“They hurt you?”

“No. Not really. I wouldn’t do anything but blow them, and most of them were happy enough with that.” He grimaced, remembering the stink and heat of sweaty, none too clean flesh in his mouth. “Two wanted more. Told them, sure; I didn’t have AIDS and they could fuck me bare, and when I said it I just looked at them, like I was picturing them dying, and neither of ‘em believed I was clean.”

“Clever.” Tyler cocked his head. “Are you?”

“Clean? Yeah. Never done it bareback in my life; I’m not that dumb.” Never done it at all, apart from that one time, but he wasn’t telling Tyler that.

“So what would you have done if they’d taken you up on it?”

“Anything I had to that left them on the ground groaning and me running for the hills.”

Tyler smiled, a brief, cold twitch of his lips, nothing but approval evident. “Yeah.” He pursed his lips. “You need a weapon.”

Suspicion hit just as Dan was about to agree. “How do you know I
haven’t
got one?” His voice squeaked high. “You searched me, didn’t you? After I’d passed out.”

“You think I’d have let you in my home without doing that?” Tyler shook his head. “I might be way old —” There was a sarcastic inflection to his voice that stung Dan; he’d had teachers who spoke like that and he’d hated it. “— but I’m not dumb, either.”

Dan took a deep breath and then let it go. There didn’t seem to be much point in arguing over it; it wasn’t like Tyler had stolen anything, after all.

“I guess not.” Dan gave him a tentative smile. “Well, I’ll leave you alone then. Unless you want something? Maybe I could bring you a bowl of water and a cloth and you could cool off that way? Sort of a sponge bath?”

Tyler shook his head and then said idly, “You’re not hard now.”

Weirdest conversation
ever
. “No.” Dan wasn’t sure why he had been in the first place, no matter how impressive Tyler’s muscles were. He was so tired he could barely stand. “Problem solved, just not the fun way. Again.”

“What?”

Dan ran his hand over his cock in an unconscious attempt to reassure himself it was still there, the unwashed stiffness of the shorts catching at his fingers. “I told you; I think about them, and bang. No joy.” He shrugged, feeling too spaced-out to really care. He’d worry about it tomorrow, or the next time it happened, if it did. Maybe it wouldn’t when he’d had a few more meals and a decent night’s sleep. “If I could afford it, I’d get therapy. Since I can’t, guess I’ll deal. I got off lucky compared to some; I know that. I’m not complaining.”

There didn’t seem much point in just standing there going on about himself when Tyler wanted to sleep; Dan shut up before he was told to, nodded a good night, and headed for the door.

“Come here.”

“What?” Startled, Dan spun around.

Tyler crooked his finger. “Here.”

“Look, I don’t know what you had in mind, but —”

“Come here and you’ll find out.”

Unwillingly, a knot of fear and excitement in his gut, he went back to stand in front of an annoying calm Tyler. Didn’t the man ever get emotional? Well, other than angry, anyway.

Tyler put out his un-bandaged hand and drew a single fingertip slowly down Dan’s chest, starting at the hollow of his throat and ending at the waistband of his shorts. By the time it was level with his nipples, they were hard and the fear had been washed away by arousal, a bright, hot sting of it that made his balls ache from being so tight, his cock throb, wanting to be touched.

“I’m not in the mood, boy,” Tyler told him, his voice calm and soft. “Even if it’s been a while since anyone offered and I said yes. My hand hurts, my ankle’s fucking killing me, and my butt’s feeling on the tender side. But I figure it’ll take about thirty seconds to see to you and then we can both get some sleep, because once I have you’re going to get your ass back on the couch and you don’t come back in here again without being asked, you got that?”

“Yes, sir,” Dan blurted out. Okay, now where the fuck had
that
come from?

“Oh, you’re so polite,” Tyler said, mocking, but kind enough with it that Dan didn’t take offence. “Want my hand or my mouth?” He shook his head before Dan could reply. “No, let’s make it both…”

“Oh, God,” Dan said involuntarily, his hips arching forward. “Tyler —”

“Take off those damn shorts, boy,” Tyler said. “I’ve got some standards, and those bunnies hopping all over the place are making me go cross-eyed.”

Dan slipped them down with hands that didn’t seem to be working and was dimly aware of a soft, appreciative hum from Tyler that was gratifying, even if he knew he wasn’t all that much to look at down there. Just average; a soft curl of cock and a bounce of balls when he wasn’t hard and when he was, well, he was usually too busy to take notes.

Tyler’s hand closed around him in a loose grip and then tightened to the point where Dan knew he wouldn’t have been able to thrust up into that grip if he’d tried. It didn’t hurt; Tyler seemed to know just how much pressure he had to apply to get Dan held in place. He relaxed his grip and squeezed again, and Dan whimpered helplessly because there was nothing else to do. He didn’t think Tyler wanted anything in the way of a touch, so his hands were by his sides; Tyler sure as hell didn’t need any help, because he looked like he knew just what he was doing, and that left Dan standing there, legs on the shaky side, mouth dry.

He had one flash of the last man he’d done this for, just one, a memory of the spiky, ginger bristles he could see sprouting on the guy’s chin when he’d glanced up to make sure the man wasn’t looking mad after Dan had gagged and pulled back to catch his breath. Then Tyler leaned down and slipped his mouth over the head of Dan’s cock, smooth as silk, his tongue busy painting circles and swirls. Tyler peeled his fingers away one by one as he took Dan in deeper, timing it perfectly, a slow downward slide, until he held Dan with a circle of thumb and forefinger and the hollow, hot wetness of his mouth.

“Oh, God.” Dan closed his eyes and then forced them open again because he didn’t want to miss anything. Positioned like this, he couldn’t see much; Tyler’s head was blocking his view, but that had its own appeal. To see someone that close to him, their head at his groin, giving him their mouth to fuck — and he could move now, if he wanted to, but he was waiting for a signal first — well, it was a rush.
Tyler’s
head,
Tyler’s
mouth — and, yeah, Tyler had done this before.

Tyler pulled back, until nothing but the tip of Dan’s cock was in his mouth. He didn’t look up at Dan, but he was giving Dan plenty to see now. The clear, precise lines of his mouth weren’t set in stern, sad lines now; they were curved into an O and blurred and stretched by Dan’s cock. Dan held his breath, and then Tyler’s other hand, the bandage a soft scrape, cupped his ass and urged him to move with the smallest of pushes.

Dan knew what it was like to be choked by someone’s cock, how it felt to have your head clamped tightly so you couldn’t pull away, sickness rising in you, throat muscles working, nose running, chest tight from lack of air. He didn’t want to do that to Tyler, any of it, but Tyler was waiting, his mouth welcoming, his hand still there on Dan’s ass.

With a sound more desperate than aroused, he let that hand guide him deeper, and felt the difference it made to be moving. Tyler met his uncertain thrust calmly, his tongue busy again, his hand still locked around the base of Dan’s cock. Dan pushed in again and again, his confidence growing, because with Tyler’s hand there, he couldn’t really go bumping the back of Tyler’s throat even if he tried.

As if he’d heard that thought, the safety net of Tyler’s hand moved away so that both Tyler’s hands were on Dan’s hips now, urging him on with an impatience that fed Dan’s arousal. Tyler wanted this as much as he did, if the painful, perfect dig of his fingers into Dan’s ass could be believed, the frantic, greedy laps of his tongue be trusted.

Dan’s body was one strung out, thrumming string, plucked and quivering, singing out a single note. He was breathing, he was swallowing spit; his left calf was itching from a bite and his heel hurt from his boot rubbing it, and they were there, he could feel them happening, breathing, swallowing, itching — all of them, and they didn’t matter. Nothing did but this gloriously unimpeded slide in and the pull back, tolerable only because he knew a moment later he’d get that knee-buckling sensation as he went deep again.

The hands on his ass were like part of his skin, as if Tyler’s fingerprints would be visible when this was over, perfect whorls and patterns tattooed onto him, indelible marks. Dan’s hips were jerking, describing a repeated curve upwards, and his balls were a tight ache craving the soft cradle of Tyler’s palm.

Tyler’s teeth, careless or planned, grazed the sides of Dan’s cock and that was all it took to end it, that small, fleeting reminder of danger. Dan had been moaning, a continuous accompaniment to the softer sounds Tyler was making, but as he came he was silent, every muscle straining, his cock as far in as he could get it, uncaring in that moment, about Tyler, because Tyler’s hands were holding him there, not pushing him away.

One last small spurt of come came out of him in an exhausted, determined bid for freedom and he was done, drained, empty. Shit, ask him to add two and two and he’d have needed a paper and pencil.

Tyler didn’t pull away fast, leaving him hanging there, vulnerable and exposed, but he gentled down, giving Dan a place to be without any flickers of his tongue over skin that felt new and tender. After a few moments, Tyler’s hands fell away and Dan stepped back.

Tyler wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his face flushed, his gaze not meeting Dan’s.

Dan knew what he was supposed to do now; just turn and walk away, and he would, he’d promised, but he couldn’t —

He went to one knee and put his hand on Tyler’s face, then tipped it up so that he could kiss the mouth he’d fucked, nothing more than a touch of his lips, just that. Tyler let him, his eyes startled, and then Dan stood and went to the door, closing it behind him without looking back, because Tyler wouldn’t want to be stared at.

Left alone, Tyler gave the door one narrow-eyed look to make sure it was going to stay closed, and then reached into the drawer of the night table for the painkillers. He was going to need help sleeping after that. He washed them down with a swallow of water and ran his tongue over his lips to catch the last taste of come. He’d forgotten what it tasted like until that first acrid, alien flood of it had spilled into his mouth, and then his mind had obligingly supplied a label along with a bunch of memories, some good, some not, all vivid.

He was out of practice; either that or Dan hadn’t been as ready as he looked. It’d taken a lot longer than the thirty seconds he’d planned on; long enough for his jaw to still feel stretched, his lips chafed. He did his best to put the blame of that onto Dan’s shoulders, the boy’s nerves and inexperience making a perfect excuse, but part of him, the honest part that never shut up, was making cool, sarcastic comments about him spinning it out because he was desperate, because he’d missed the feel of a body close to his, all hot skin, sweat-salted and musky, missed the sounds a man made when he was close to coming, missed the slick, slippery feel of a hard cock against his tongue.

Doing Dan a favor. It had been no more than that. Helping the boy see he wasn’t damaged, just a little raw around the edges. Dan deserved that; he hadn’t whined about what had happened, and if he’d been all kinds of a fool for the way he’d been traveling, the risks he’d taken, well, he still had guts and a certain toughness under the vulnerability. Or maybe it was the other way around… Tyler just knew that Dan didn’t irritate him the way some people did. Well, mostly.

He propped his ankle on a pillow and lay down in the humid darkness, his eyes open. He could hear the creaks the couch made as Dan settled back down, the flat, dull thud of Dan’s fist punching the pillow into shape. Used to no human sounds but the ones he made, the interrupted quiet should have had him jumpy and on edge, but instead it took him back to training, when he’d slept in a barracks with men all around him on narrow, hard cots. The men had slept quietly, a trick you learned, but still, there’d been the occasional cough and rustle of bedding, the soft background of breath taken and released. And sometimes, when the room had settled, someone would jerk off, his face buried in a thin pillow or his mouth gagged by his own hand while the other moved in whip-quick strokes, the man’s attention focused on his goal. Tyler had listened and known, been aware of others listening, too. He’d never allowed his hand to drift down; it’d felt too intrusive, somehow; besides, there was something that appealed to him back then, when he was all about strength of body, mind, and will, about enduring the ache in his balls.

God, he’d been so fucking young and innocent. He’d killed by then, three targets at least, and he’d still had that certainty that he was fighting the good fight because the men he’d killed had been so far removed from humanity that it hadn’t felt like murder. He’d felt worse over killing a fish he’d caught after an exhilarating, splashy struggle lasting twenty minutes or more, his fishing rod jerking hard in his hand, and water flying off the line in miniature prisms, catching the early evening light and making it shine. He’d half wanted to toss that bass back, but the man with him — Jim? Andy? — started talking about ways to cook it, and he hadn’t wanted to dent his tough guy image by getting sentimental over a fish, the sheen already leaving its eyes as it flapped and flopped, exhausted, in his hands.

He could feel the painkillers start to work, slipping into his blood like a whisper in his ear. The sharply defined areas of pain in his ribs, palm, and ankle began to blur at the edges, allowing the pain to spread out, thin down to bearable levels.

Sleep came without him noticing it, and when he woke, it was daylight, and his body was one bruised, resentful ache.

Fuck. He’d forgotten how much the day after hurt. He got out of bed and scratched his belly, feeling grubby and sticky. Bath. Shower. Something. His stomach growled a reminder that he needed to fill it first, and he sniffed the air. Coffee and something frying, close to burning. With a sigh, he pulled on the T-shirt he’d worn the day before, his ribs sore but the discomfort bearable now, and hobble-hopped to the door, using his cane to balance him.

Dan was dressed in a pair of denim shorts, loose enough that Tyler could have slid his hand — both hands — inside them, the sharp points of Dan’s hipbones pressing into his palms, the swell and heat of Dan’s cock waiting for the touch of his fingertips as they explored the space between skin and denim. Over them, he wore a T-shirt, faded from its original navy, but hole-free and clean enough.

“Those eggs aren’t going to be fit to eat.”

Dan grinned and gave the contents of the frying pan a nonchalant prod with a spatula. “I like them well-done.”

“I like mine runny, unless you’re scrambling them.”

“I’m not. And I wasn’t planning on sharing mine.” Dan did everything but stick out his tongue impishly. The kid was in a good mood. Tyler had noticed that the bedding on the couch had been put away, and there was only a faint smell of curry; Dan had done a good job of cleaning up the night before. The window was open and the screen door, too, allowing a cool morning breeze to drift in.

“You’re up early.”

“Early?” Dan shook his head. “It’s nearly eight; if I’d stayed in bed this late at home, my daddy would’ve blistered my butt.”

Farm boy. Yeah, Dan would be used to seeing the sun rise, wouldn’t he? Tyler remembered Basic, when the country boys were the only ones bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning — until they’d been run through the hell of training and turned into blank faced zombies like everyone else, craving sleep more than food or sex. It didn’t last long; you got a second wind and adjusted — or got kicked out — but even now, years later, Tyler could remember being woken up from the deepest sleep imaginable by a scream in his ear followed by his ass hitting the cold, hard floor.

Good times.

Tyler sat down, his foot propped up on the chair he’d used the night before. Against the cushion, the bandage on the still swollen ankle looked large and clumsy and he sighed. Yesterday, he’d been too busy to waste time castigating himself, but he was going to have nothing but free time today. Of all the dumb things to do…

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Hmm? Oh, black.” He didn’t like it that way before he enlisted; cream and sugar had suited him better, but he’d gotten used to drinking it black and bitter after years of being in places where milk would sour in an hour, and somehow he’d never gone back to pale and sweet.

Coffee, toast, and two eggs that looked edible enough were set in front of him. Dan looked anxious now, as if this was a test he didn’t want to fail.

“Looks good,” Tyler said because he had to say something with the boy waiting for a pat or a kick.

Dan beamed at him, as sunny as the day. “Want some juice?”

“Sure, why not?”

Dan took out the OJ from the fridge and then hesitated, his hand hovering over the shelf of glasses. “Is it okay if — can I have some, too?”

Tyler swallowed a mouthful of toast. “Yes. And come and eat before your eggs get cold. You could’ve eaten yours and then cooked mine, you know.”

Daniel poured juice for them both and got settled at the table with his own plate of food. “I don’t mind. It’s food; I’d eat it if it was stone-cold.”

“You didn’t cook bacon?” Tyler asked. “There was plenty in the fridge.”

Dan looked stricken. “You want some? I can do it —” He stood, his fork clattering down on his plate.

“Sit down,” Tyler growled, reaching over and grabbing a handful of Dan’s T-shirt to use as a way of reinforcing the order. “I usually have cold cereal or just coffee; this is plenty for me. I just thought you’d want something filling, seeing as you’ve got a lot of missed meals to catch up on.”

Dan gave him a wary look and took a sip of his own coffee. “I didn’t want to impose.”

The old-fashioned phrasing made Tyler want to smile, but he held it back. “I think we need to get a few things straight. You’re still planning on staying here for a few days?”

“If that’s okay,” Dan said hesitantly.

“It works for me and for you, so let’s say it is. Fine. In that case, you’ve got to stop tiptoeing around like this. I’m not used to guests; this is the first place I’ve ever owned, and you’re the first person to spend the night here. I don’t plan on being hospitable and all that shit; you just act like you live here and help yourself to what you need in the way of food without asking. Anything in that fridge or those cupboards, you just go right ahead and use. You’ll be doing the cooking while you’re here anyway.” He let that sink in and went back to eating.

“You mean that, don’t you?”

“You won’t have time to get to know me and find out for yourself, but I’ll save you the trouble and tell you that I’ve never seen the point in saying something you don’t mean.” Tyler drank his coffee — too weak, but it’d do — and then met Dan’s eyes. “One thing. You can poke about the cabin as much as you like; won’t take you long because I don’t have much, but you stay out of my room, you got that?”

Dan swallowed, his throat working visibly. “I won’t — I understand. I know it was just a — you were just being kind. I didn’t expect —”

“What?” Tyler held up his hand because Dan’s stumbled, fumbled words were painful to listen to. “Boy, this isn’t about what we did in there last night; it’s just —” He shook his head. “I’ve lived here for two years and I can go weeks without talking to someone. You being here 24/7 is going to take some getting used to, even if it is only temporary. I need somewhere you don’t go. Somewhere that’s just mine.”

Which was true, but only part of it. His room held a lot Dan didn’t need to see, and if it was fairly well-hidden, that didn’t mean Dan wouldn’t find it.

“I won’t. I swear.”

“Good. Now go back to the way you were when I walked in, because you’re making me itchy being all jumpy and nervous.”

“’The way I was’?” Dan repeated. “How was I?”

“Happy,” Tyler said without thinking. “You looked happy, boy.”

“Oh.” Daniel stared down at his plate. “I guess I did feel that way.”

“Don’t worry,” Tyler said, chasing the last bite of egg with the corner of his toast. “Picking tomatoes will soon take care of that and you can go back to being miserable.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

“On being miserable, I hope; those tomatoes won’t pick themselves.”

Dan rolled his eyes, which was about all he deserved for a joke as weak as his coffee.

After breakfast, Tyler headed for the bathroom. He sat down to piss and stayed there while he brushed his teeth and shaved, the mirror twisted around so that he could see what he was doing. Two nicks later, his face was reasonably smooth and sweat was prickling down his spine. Shower or bath? He decided on a bath; he could prop his foot on the side of the bath, as the hot water he planned to soak in wouldn’t help the swelling. He started the bath running and put a folded towel where his foot would go.

Dan tapped on the door when he turned the taps off. “Uh, Tyler? If you’re getting in the bath, shouldn’t I be there? In case you slip or something?”

“Nope.” T-shirt off, he unwound the bandages from around his chest; he wouldn’t need them again. His shorts were pushed down, the hot water was calling him…

“I really think you should let me help.”

“And I really think you should —” The door opened. Shit. He just wasn’t in the habit of locking it, hell, of even closing it, most of the time. “You know I said my bedroom was the only place off-limits? I want to add the bathroom when I’m in it.”

Dan folded his arms over his chest and looked as stubborn as a goat. “I’ll remember that in the future, but I’m not moving until I see you safely in, and I want you to call me when you get out.”

Being naked in front of Dan didn’t bother him, but being babied and fussed over sure as hell did. “Boy —”

Dan nodded at the bath. “Like my eggs, it’s getting cold. It won’t do the stiffness any good that way, and judging by the way you’re moving like an old man, I’m guessing you’re suffering.”

Without sparing Dan another look, Tyler hopped the three steps needed to get him to the side of the bath and then stood with his hand on the tiles, trying not to think about how his foot had slipped at the end there. He’d caught himself, but it’d been close.

Dan’s arm went around him and gave him something to lean into, but he didn’t give in to the temptation.

“You are one stubborn man, you know that?” Dan sounded pissed off. “Look, I could care less about your fucking garden; let the deer have it and buy canned goods like the rest of the world. But I’m supposed to be helping you because you sprained your goddamned ankle, and if you won’t let me, then I’m out of here, and you don’t know me, either, but I don’t make threats I won’t keep.”

Tyler turned his head and looked into blue eyes lit up with annoyance and concern. “You want to go, boy?”

“No,” Dan said in a low, fierce whisper that was angrier than his raised voice had been. “I don’t. I just want you to use me while I’m here to make things easier on you. You’re feeding me and you’ve put clothes on my back and a roof over my head. I need to pay you back, and so far I’ve done nothing but a few dishes. It’s not enough.”

“I may be stubborn, but you need to learn how to take without needing to give back all the time,” Tyler snapped. “No one’s balancing the books here.”

“I don’t take charity.”

“Well, let me set you a good example, then.” Tyler put his arm around Dan’s shoulders. “Hold me steady and just — yeah, that’s it.”

Dan’s T-shirt was two shades darker in places by the time Tyler was in the bath, groaning happily at the heat of the water, enough to make his skin pop out in goose bumps, as if it’d been cold water not just this side of boiling. He watched Dan pluck the clinging fabric away and then shrug and strip it off. The shorts he was wearing looked even more indecent now, their downward slide halted by the curve of his ass.

“You’re not wearing anything under there, are you?”