Deliver Us (7 page)

Darrek’s body reacts before his brain can catch up. His gut churns. Bile chases up his throat. He flushes burning hot with a wave of self-consciousness one moment then, too fast, terror drains the blood right out of him, leaving him freezing. Jitters start to shake him, subtly at first but growing in strength as the panic blossoms and he realizes that, without being fully cognizant of the ramifications, he has gotten himself intimately involved with someone of his own gender. Heat bakes from his face, making the skin feel too tight. He rakes his fingers back through his hair and they’re like ice.

Scanning the empty house, needing an anchor, needing focus as his world threatens to upend itself, he sees his truck through the front window, parked in the driveway. His Tundra; it’s what brought him to Gabriel the one and only time they were together. It’s Darrek’s physical link to the experience. He stares at it as it reminds him of all the obscene ways his body ached and throbbed after meeting Gabriel.

Because it was the idea of having made a date that began his ‘aha’ moment, he comes back to that, fixating on it. Did he just make a date? Is he about to have a
date
with another
man?
Or did he simply invite a man over to have sex with him... again?

He had sex with a man.

In another universe far away, where things make sense and all is normal, Sierra barks. The sound manages to carry to him on the wind. The gust whistles through the house, transforming something as harmless as the voice of his beloved pet into human voices instead—those of his family and his friends—judging him.

All are disgusted. All are horrified.

Squeezing his eyes shut against their imagined scorn, Darrek pushes them away, telling himself they aren’t real, that it’s all in his mind. They don’t matter. And Darrek has had plenty of practice at tuning out other’s opinions, real or imagined.

Once more it is quiet. The wind ceases to blow and all he’s left with are his own ceaselessly revolving thoughts.

He has invited Gabriel to his home.

Gabriel.

Another cold shiver races under his skin, tightening his scalp, making his legs feel unsteady.

He has just invited this man to his home. For a date.

His train of thought abruptly derails, arguing from both sides—pro and con, shock and acceptance.

Why does it even matter if it’s a ‘date’ or not? Hell, he’s already had sex with Gabriel. He’s submitted to the man in every sense. Shouldn’t that make this easier, since they’ve already gotten that part over with?

He had
sex
with
Gabriel
.

Reflexively, at the memory of penetration, his sphincter clenches shut. And it all boils down to this: Darrek has just invited to his home a man that’s already fucked him into unconsciousness once. And there are just so many red flags in that sentence alone, that his head starts to spin.

“What am I doing?” he asks no one in particular, now that even his dog is no longer present to talk to. The sound of his voice echoing in the empty house, the undiluted fear in it makes him even more nauseous. “What the hell did I just do?”

As Darrek works, ears filled with the sound of scratching and scraping, with the static-laced hiss of the music blaring from the old radio nearby, his hands busy, his mind wandering, Darrek figures it out. The shock-induced queasiness has passed. It’s not about being straight or being gay. It’s not about the mechanics of getting off, or who is penetrating whom in the process. That’s all surface, and nothing more.

Disappointment
. That’s the key. That’s the reason. That’s the answer to his question regarding
why
he submitted to Gabriel, why he called Gabriel’s personal number rather than putting the whole experience behind him and moving on.

He’s sick of disappointing people. Darrek is sick to death of not being good enough, not giving enough, seeing that look hiding in someone else’s eyes because of something he’s done, or
not
done.

Not good enough
. That’s what he’s always been to the people that have really mattered. He’s tried to play the game, to play the part and do what he thought was the right thing to do. He tried so very hard. But then they changed the rules on him, and didn’t bother to tell him, and he was left with nothing. Nothing but that small sneer and mocking smile.

But with Gabriel, Darrek gives all he has. Gabriel pushes him to the edge, to the boundaries of tolerance and then
further
, but it’s okay. Because afterward, Gabriel is
proud
of him. His Master tells him he’s
good
. He’s
good enough
in that moment—the control, the decisions, taken right out of his hands. He is just left to feel and react and take it.

He can take it. He can take it all. That was never the problem.

What does it matter that Gabriel is a man, when he manages to give Darrek more than any woman ever has? The force between them, as well as the reward, is beyond that, beyond male or female. It’s about trust and power, reward and punishment. Simple. Primal.

Darrek wants to trust someone that much. He wants to trust Gabriel, his
Master
, to take care of him, to be proud of him. That’s all that matters.

Gabriel pulls up to the driveway, seeing the small, hand-carved sign beside it that reads ‘Grealey Carpentry’. He parks on the road in front of the house. It’s small, the house—incredibly small, considering the size of the man that lives there. The garage beside it is almost twice as big as the residence itself. There’s a fence running along the border of the property, and a golden-brown, medium-sized dog inside it, running around in the distance. If he strains his ears, as he gets out of his SUV, he can just about hear the sound of a radio playing in the garage. He follows the sound of the music, feeling the mid-day sun warm the exposed skin of his arms and neck. It’s fairly hot out, for March, and Gabriel muses that the confined space of the garage must be even hotter.

He had been surprised but relieved to get the call from Darrek that morning. It’s Sunday, and he was at home with Trace, not doing much of anything—sitting on the front porch with his coffee and listening to his housemate tinker with his beloved classic Chevy. It’s where Trace usually is, when he isn’t busy doing something else.

It must have taken a lot of guts for Darrek to pick up the phone and call him. But it was necessary for Gabriel to let Darrek be the one to make the call. He has to be sure that Darrek really wants this, and isn’t just obeying his orders blindly. Darrek could very easily have just not called, not scheduled any more sessions with him, and that would have been the end of things.

But he didn’t. He called. Darrek wants this too.

Smiling widely, he walks up the driveway, and around to the side door of Darrek’s garage.

He sees Darrek at a workbench, a tool in hand. Gabriel can’t see it clearly, but it looks like it might be an awl. Darrek is using it to dig carefully at the surface of the box in front of him. Skin shiny with sweat, his sleeveless shirt sticking to his back, his jeans dirty and ripped, worn thin from hard use and hanging low on his narrow hips, Darrek doesn’t see him standing there. The goggles protecting his eyes might be one reason, because of the way that they narrow his field of vision.

Gabriel watches, the corners of his lips turned up in an eager smile, as Darrek’s biceps flex and contract with the movements of his hands over the wood. He flips the hair out of his eyes and shifts his stance, his shirt pulling up a little and showing off the small dimples in his lower back, just above his ass. Darrek runs a thumb over the place on the box’s lid where he’s carving away thin slivers, and Gabriel notices just how incredibly
big
Darrek’s hands are. He thinks of how callused and rough they must be, how they would feel, touching his body, gripping his ass or stroking his cock.

Knowing that it would be bad if he startled Darrek while he has a sharp tool in his hands, Gabriel waits patiently. Licking over his lips, he imagines twisting his fingers in that sweaty, long hair, pulling it hard to expose the thick, long neck of his as he bends Darrek over the bench and fucks him until he’s screaming.

As the fantasy becomes more and more vivid in his mind, and he can almost taste the salty moisture on Darrek’s skin, can hear the deep thunderous groan in his chest as Gabriel violates his body deeper and deeper and deeper, he decides he can’t wait anymore.

Moving carefully and soundlessly across the space, he snakes a hand, unnoticed, around Darrek’s waist, and quickly and tightly grips the wrist of the hand holding the scratch awl, preventing Darrek from slipping with it and accidentally hurting himself.

Darrek cries out, beyond startled, and feels his heart leap up into his throat.

“
Oh Jesus Christ
,” he gasps, as his heart pounds against his ribcage. He pulls off the goggles and rubs the back of his left arm over his eyes.

“Nope, just me,” Gabriel grins, softening his firm hold on Darrek’s arm and running his hand up Darrek’s bulging forearm, up the sides of his biceps and triceps, through the light sheen of perspiration. Closing his lips over the tight, tan skin of Darrek’s shoulder in a kiss, Gabriel sucks lightly, tasting him with a small moan. His other hand winds around Darrek’s waist, his fingers dipping under the waistband, as he growls “You look so good like this—dirty and sweaty and good
god
your
hands
, Darrek. I was watching you from the doorway. I could watch you all day, but then I just wanted to bend your ass over and fuck the hell out of it. I wanted it so bad I could taste it. Would you let me? Would you let me fuck you like that?”

Darrek moans and presses back into Gabriel. “Mmm... Yeah.... Yes.”

Swallowing his own groan of desire, Gabriel next presses his lips to the side of Darrek’s neck. He pushes his hand into Darrek’s pants and grunts against his skin. Darrek’s words have gone straight to Gabriel’s cock, filling it, and all at once he’s as hard as the steel tool in Darrek’s hand.

“Okay... okay...” Gabriel whispers, breathing him in, his thumb and forefinger popping open Darrek’s fly and then closing around Darrek’s cock, easing it free of his pants. He tugs the jeans and boxers down as he circles and squeezes the thick, hot length of him.

Quickly spitting into his free hand, he rubs the moisture into Darrek’s hole, his fingers finding it instantly. Darrek trembles in his arms and shifts his feet wider. Just a second earlier, he was lost in concentration as he carved the lid to the hope chest, and now he’s got his pants down with Gabriel’s fingers rubbing spit into his ass.

“Good, good, yeah... spread your legs nice and wide. Yeah, like that. Now bend over. Wanna see that pretty ass.”

Releasing Darrek’s cock, now that it’s full and heavy, Gabriel watches it bob and twitch with need. He can see Darrek’s skin flush with excitement and nerves. But something’s wrong. Something is off here, and it gives him pause.

Gabriel’s hand stills, and he pulls it away from Darrek’s entrance then steps back, questioning himself.

Darrek looks back over his shoulder, ready and willing, eyes dark with lust. He sees Gabriel looking over at him, his face set and hard, but he’s too far away, he’s... oh god. He’s
changing his mind
.

“Please. Gabriel,
please
...” Darrek begs, because if this doesn’t happen, if he doesn’t feel Gabriel inside of him
right now
, ending all uncertainty, he’ll die. “What do you want me to do? I’ll do anything... I
need
this. I need you to do this.
Please
, Master.”

Then Gabriel is at his back, with one hand gripping his jaw hard enough to bruise, turning his head so that Gabriel can see him more clearly. Forcing two fingers into Darrek’s mouth, he commands him, “Suck. Get ’em wet, because in a minute they’re going to be up your tight little hole.”

Darrek sighs in relief and does as ordered. Then they’re gone from his mouth and all at once are being pushed inside his body.

He grunts and blinks, shifting his legs even wider but he can’t because his jeans are digging into his thighs. He feels too full and it hurts, but the hurt is good. This is what he wanted. Just this.

Gabriel watches him closely and says, “Keep your hands right in front of you, thumbs touching. If you move them at all, I will punish you and you will
not
like it.”

“Yes, sir,” Darrek says, moving his hands into position, bracing them against the bench. It’s
so much easier
this way. Why is it so much easier this way?

Gabriel works his fingers in Darrek’s ass, slow and twisting and pushing deep. The color burns bright on Darrek’s cheeks as the feeling of violation, of being
used
washes over him.

“You’re blushing,” Gabriel tells him. “Do you like the feeling of my fingers up your ass?”

Turning his face away, he says quietly, “Yes, sir.”

“No. Look at me.
Look at me
!” He punctuates the command with a hard slap of his open palm to the underside of Darrek’s dick. Darrek grunts in pain and tries to tuck his hips back.