Out of the Dungeon (20 page)

"Raise up on your toes," Thomas said.

Roman's heart was suddenly beating hard in
his chest and he whispered, "Please, no."

The whip nipped the corner of his mouth,
leaving a sharp sting.

"Twenty. Forty if you don't stay on your
toes. You don't have to count."

Roman rose up on his toes, but desperately
hoped Thomas wouldn't whip the bottoms of his feet. The wish was of
course both silly and futile. When the delicate tip of the whip did
snake across his arches, nausea rose up, and his stomach heaved,
and he feared his scream would be followed by sobs.

He no longer hung limp by the wrist cuffs,
but turned his hands and grabbed hold of the chains, gripping them
so hard his arms felt stiff. Hamstrings, too, from clenching the
plug and standing on his toes.

At some point he heard Thomas say, "Toes,
please," but the voice came from so far away that Roman wasn't even
sure the man was talking to him. Now and again Roman was aware,
peripherally, of the whip curling around his pelvis and tapping his
cock, stroking his balls, almost, almost... but subspace claimed
him, and with relief he let himself float away.

He was gone for what seemed like forever when
he realized he was cold. Not just cold, but trembling cold, and
then suddenly falling, so he flung his arms out, frightened. Then
felt warmth encircle him, and a soothing voice, "It's okay, you're
safe. You're safe."

He was content to rest for a while.

Sometime later he became aware that he'd been
taken down from the cross. Hands were spreading his ass cheeks,
fingers probing gently inside. Roman opened his eyes. Thomas was
hovering over him, eyes intense and full of hunger. Roman's legs
were propped against Thomas's shoulders, so Thomas could fuck him
face to face, and Thomas's condom-covered cock looked more than
ready to do the deed.

Thomas's fingers slid away, and were replaced
by the press of his greased cockhead, and there came a steady
pressure that didn't abate until the cock started its slow foray
into Roman's ass.

And Roman remembered this, too, the helpless
vulnerability that came when he let go all of his defenses and let
someone take him like this. He whimpered, then couldn't stop
himself from gasping out loud. Thomas's cock had a wide girth, and
his fingers dug into Roman's hips as he pushed in further. Roman
felt like his whole body hung suspended on the cock of all cocks,
and the painful stretch grew so intense that time stopped. And then
Thomas was pulling back, just as slow, and then carefully pushing
in again.

But Roman wanted the pain, and he grabbed at
Thomas's hands and said, "Oh, God, oh, God, fuck me," and Thomas
did, and somewhere in the riveting pain of it, Roman floated away
again.

When he woke up, he remembered that all of
his life was in shambles, and he finally cried.

He didn't know how long the crying went on,
but when he finally stopped he had a sore throat and a headache.
Thomas sat beside him, and didn't say a word, just offered Roman
water. Roman held the cool bottle against his cheek, then pressed
the bottom edge against one eye, then the other. He felt completely
wrung out. Finally he drank, downing half the bottle in one
swallow.

He looked at Thomas. Thomas looked back.

"I haven't made it to subspace in about a
hundred years. Honestly, I didn't think I'd ever feel that
again."

Thomas lifted one shoulder, as if he were
about to deflect Roman's comment with a dismissive shrug. But he
stopped mid-gesture, and his mouth curved into a smile. When he
spoke, his eyes held a glint of humor. "You doubted my skill? Like
you, there are those who say I am extremely good at what I do."

"And they are correct. Thank you, my
friend."

"Ah, don't be too grateful. I did have my
ulterior motives."

The more Roman came back to himself, the more
awkward it became between them, until it was past time for Thomas
to collect his sunglasses and go.

R
oman's phone rang.
He looked at the screen and recognized the area code, but not the
number. He debated the possibility of ignoring the call, because
the last thing he needed right now was trouble from his family. He
wondered which one it would be, and what they'd want from him.

He let it go to voicemail. Better to get an
idea beforehand and give himself time to formulate a strategy. The
ringing stopped and he waited for the message alert, but it didn't
come. Well, there you go, he told himself, if it's important,
they'll call back.

The phone rang again. Same area code. Same
number.

"Yeah?" he growled into the phone.

"Is that any way to greet your only remaining
grandparent?"

Hearing her voice made him smile. "Hi Gigi. I
didn't know it was you, figured it was dad."

"That explains the growl, then, scare him off
before the little puke starts whining."

"That was the plan," Dare agreed. "So what's
up? It's not every day a guy like me gets a call from his
Gigi."

"I heard you're having a rough time."

"Really? Where'd you hear that? I'm doing
okay."

"Oh, don't throw bullshit at me, young man. I
know stuff."

He cringed. "Okay, then. How are you?"

"I've been horseshit. Albert's getting very
insistent about stuffing me into a nursing home. And I'm not going.
He's a total pain in my ass. The little traitor's taking me to
court. He's trying to say I'm incompetent, wants to be my guardian.
There's a hearing in September. I need you to come."

"What? Why do you need me to come?"

"Because Albert will shit himself if you do.
You know that for a fact. I need back up. I need you."

Roman laughed at the absurdity of the idea.
And yet…

There was no reason he couldn't go. "What do
you want me to say, that I'll look out for you? I don't want to be
anybody's guardian. Especially yours. You'd kick my ass to hell and
back before you ever let me make a decision on your behalf."

"Do you think I need a guardian? I may be
old, but I'm not addled. Sharp as a tack, that's me."

"And just as subtle," Roman muttered, mostly
to himself.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Nothing, Gigi. I see your hearing's as sharp
as ever, too."

"Damn right it is. And don't you forget it.
Save my number when you hang up so you can let me know your flight
details."

"What makes you think I'm coming?" he
asked.

"Oh, you're coming. You wouldn't be so cruel
as to let Albert become the boss of me. You know he's not fit to be
in charge of a puppy."

Well, that was true. Everything Roman had
become, he had become because his father wasn't. It was precise.
And intentional.

His father was afraid, therefore Roman grew
to be fearless. His father was nervous, Roman was confident. His
father was a lousy provider, and therefore Roman had always worked
hard. They were opposites in so many ways. His father was
whip-thin, and Roman had pumped iron for years to build muscle
definition. He was not the man his father was. "So how long has
this been going on?" he asked.

"A few months."

"Why hasn't anybody called me?"

"I didn't call because I thought I could
handle it.
They
never called because they don't want you
involved. That's a no-brainer. But now Albert's losing his house,
and I think he has his sights set on mine. You know how he is. Mad
scramble to keep his shit from falling apart. And you're the only
one I'd say it to, but I'd torch this place before I'd let him have
it, at least while I'm still breathing. I'm fighting this, damn
it."

"Do you need nursing care, Gigi?

"Don't insult me. How old do you think I
am?"

"Ninety two?" Roman guessed.

"Eighty six, pecker-head."

Roman choked back his laugh, but she caught
him.

"Don't laugh. I don't soil myself, and I
don't fall down. I get Meals on Wheels, saves me the trouble of
cooking. What do you want from an old lady?"

"Just checking, Gigi. I mean, it's been how
many years since I've seen you? People change."

"No kidding. You with all your crazy tattoos
should be the one to talk. Why'd you tattoo your head, anyway?
Must've bled like a motherfucker."

"Gigi! Such language."

"Oh, did I offend you? Sorry."

Albert had a mouth like a truck driver, and
Roman had always hated how his dad used foul language in some lame
assed attempt to convince people he was tough. It was all just an
act. So again, because Albert often used vulgar language, Roman
didn't.

"How do you know about my tattoos,
anyway?"

"What, I'm too old for the internet? I know
what you've been up to."

Roman's stomach seized. He was going to have
to Google himself as soon as he got off the phone. He had no idea
what was out there.

"So, you're selling the club," she said.
"What's the rest of the story?"

Apparently that much was available online.
The indecency charge and its associated fine still galled him, so
he didn't mention it. Talking about it only reminded him that
Phillips had totally been out to get him, and it just pissed him
off. "Jeff got hurt," he said. "There are huge and astronomical
hospital bills that will wipe him out for life. What else could I
do?"

"You're a good man, Roman. Been a terrible
grandson lately, but come to my hearing and I'll forgive you."

Roman sighed. "Way to twist my arm."

He could feel her smiling through the phone.
"Big, strong man like you can survive a little arm twisting."

***

Roman found himself on an airplane in
September, flying to nowheresville in the heartland of the US of A.
Field trip.

He tried not to think during the flight, but
it was hard. He had an odd feeling that he was leaving New York
forever, and although he couldn't imagine anything that crazy, he
arrived at the airport nearest his grandmother's house with a heart
filled with holes.

Jeff's decision to go to his parents' house
for the duration of his rehabilitation had been stunning.

"I need to go, Roman. As much as I have loved
you for all this time, as much as I still love you, I can't stay
with you. Thank you for everything."

Bang. Over.

The accident changed Jeff, turned him off of
bondage and submission. He said he didn't know how to be with Roman
without those things, even though Roman was more than willing to
try an egalitarian relationship.

"You shouldn't have to give up so much," Jeff
said. "It's not fair."

"It's not like you chose to get hit by a
truck, Jeff."

"Are you sure of that?"

That was the worst thing of all. Jeff
insinuating that maybe he'd tried to commit suicide by delivery
truck.

"Say that to the wrong person and you'll end
up on a different unit of this hospital," Roman warned.

Jeff had sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. I wasn't
playing Don Quixote with the truck. But I was suffering from
depression."

"And you're not depressed anymore?"

"No. Now I'm just plain sad. And aggravated
about this Halo business."

"I wish Dare quitting could have fixed us,"
Roman said.

Jeff smiled. "Dare didn't break us. And he
didn't quit because of us, even if you pushed him into things
before he was ready."

"Maybe everything is my fault," Roman
suggested. "If I take full responsibility and promise to be
monogamous, can we salvage this?"

"Maybe someday," Jeff had said, and he was
dead calm. "But not right now. I need to get through this."

Healing, rehab, fear. Jeff was resolute. Jeff
was going to do this on his own, figure out the next step by
himself. And the step after that. And even after that.

And so was Dare.

And, by default, so was Roman.

Roman had no idea what to do with that. He
couldn't conceive of not having Jeff in his life. Jeff was his
constant. His perfect complement. Roman would never find another
person that fit him like Jeff did. Which left him feeling like he
couldn't breathe. There was pain beneath his breastbone, physical
pain, like a broken heart. It had been decades since he'd had a
broken heart, and he'd forgotten what it felt like. It felt bad.
Really bad. Like he was peeling apart on the inside, flesh
separating from skin. Soul separating from body.

It would be a pleasure to stand beside his
grandmother in court and tear someone to pieces. Roman was in the
mood for a good, angry brawl.

As for Dare, well, Dare had always more or
less walked his own road. He allowed Roman to lead him into an
alley now and then, but, overall, he was a bottom, not a
submissive, and their happy little threesome wasn't meant to
survive. Still, Roman liked just about everything about Dare,
including Dare's ability to insist on independence. And
particularly that Dare had the guts to cut ties with his whole life
and start over. Not many people were that brave.

It was right and it was just that Dare move
into his new life alone. It was what he had to do to find himself.
And who knew, he might even end up with that girl he almost
married, someday.

Ah. The someday reference again. Someday
seemed like something to hope for, something to look forward to,
but in truth, it was just another way to hang on a string. And
Roman wasn't good at that. So. Here he was to help his Gigi. And
that he would do. Not with money, not anymore, but with Presence.
Oh yeah, Roman could pull off presence.

He took a cab to Gigi's house. Laughing at
how impressed Dare had been that Roman always seemed to catch the
next available taxi. Any time, any city.

Gigi met him at the door and wrapped thin,
birdlike arms around him.

"Is it possible you look even stronger and
tougher these days?"