Authors: Kele Moon
unlikely you’re gonna break that pattern. I screwed plenty of cops
before you, and I’l probably screw several after you’re gone.
Fucking with you guys is sorta my thing.”
“Considering you’re naked and handcuffed to the headboard,
you might wanna start being a little nicer and a whole lot more
agreeable.” Gavin’s powerful body practicaly vibrated in fury. “I
gotta work in a few hours, and I’m more than happy to leave you
here and pick up the conversation when I get back.”
“Like hel!” Brad jerked at the headboard once more. “This
is some sorta cop mind fuck! I don’t fucking believe you!”
“Try me,” Gavin countered, his voice holding grim promise
that was more than a little unnerving. “You’ve never had a
boyfriend? Not once? There was never someone you thought might
be worth spending more than a few days with? I find that hard to
believe. You couldn’t have always been a cynical asshole. At some
point Brad Archer must have believed in something more than shitty
endings.”
Brad couldn’t help but look away, feeling exposed in a
different way.
“Tel me what happened,” Gavin pressed, a hand faling to
Brad’s shoulder and squeezing lightly.
Brad heard the compassion seep into Gavin’s steely
demeanor, teling him what he’d suspected al along; the bad-cop
act was just that—an act.
He didn’t want Gavin’s compassion, not about this, not about
anything. Accepting compassion meant he was weak, and Brad
more than anyone knew that weakness left him open to getting hurt.
“What?” Brad laughed bitterly, trying and failing to force the
pain out of his voice. “You want me to tel you that my first love
helped my brother and the other assholes I thought were my friends
beat the shit out of me the day after my father kicked me out of the
house? You want me to lay here and cry over that? Does that get
your dick hard?”
Rather than take the bait, Gavin just choked out, “Is that
true?”
“So what if it is?” Brad barked, turning back to see Gavin’s
eyes were wide and horrified. “It was twenty years ago. What the
fuck are you gonna do about it now?”
“I can listen,” Gavin said softly. “You can talk, and I can
listen to what you have to say.”
Brad snorted. “I don’t need someone to listen.”
“Have you ever told anyone what happened?”
“Why the fuck would I do that?” Brad gave Gavin an
incredulous look, trying to ignore the shining concern in his eyes.
“What the hel does that fix?”
“My mama says keeping hurts inside is like swalowing
poison,” Gavin offered, raising dark eyebrows. “And I care about
you too much to let you keep poisoning yourself. Tel me what
happened and I’l let you go.”
Brad considered him for one long moment, trying to decide if
he realy wanted to drag this al up. Gavin was sitting on his chest,
stil knocking half the air out of him because a six-two, al-muscle
cop made a heavy paperweight, but for some reason, despite
finding himself weak and handcuffed beneath this man, a part of
Brad realy wanted to tel him. He instinctively knew Gavin would
never realy hurt him. His wild panic at being handcuffed was a
knee-jerk reaction, but the reality was he trusted Gavin completely.
“My dad came home early from work,” Brad started, closing
his eyes and turning his head away. “Jake and I were, uh…you
know, doing stuff in my room.”
“Doing stuff?”
“We were fucking, genius,” Brad growled, stil refusing to
look at him. “And my dad walked in, and it was… Wel, it was
pretty fucking bad. As bad as you can imagine a situation like that
being, that’s how horrible it was. He must have been so fucking
pissed, he didn’t even catch a look at Jake.”
“What happened then?”
“I guess Jake got the fuck out of there. I didn’t realy notice. I
was too busy trying to get dressed while my father had the mother
lode of al mental breakdowns, ’cause I was like, you know, his
pride and joy until that moment.” Brad snorted, remembering a time
when his father thought Brad was God’s gift to ex-footbal-hero
fathers. “I did everything he wanted. I had the footbal scholarship in
the bag. I took out the garbage and cleaned my room without
having to be asked. I was the perfect son for him. My brother hated
me for it because he just wasn’t as good. I guess he didn’t have as
much to hide.”
“Is your brother older or younger?”
“Older, by about six minutes,” Brad said, unable to keep the
bitterness out of his voice. “We’re twins.”
“Jesus. Are you identical?”
“Yup,” Brad said with a sardonic smile. “There’s a straight
me walking around out there. How’s that for a shock?”
“And you didn’t get along?”
“Nah, not realy.” Brad sighed. “We looked alike, but we
were opposites in more than just sexual preference. My dad got off
on pitting us against each other. I usualy won, until I got busted
taking it up the ass from Jake. My dad kicked me out that night. I
only had a few minutes to grab a bag of shit before I was standing
on the curb.”
Gavin stroked Brad’s shoulder. “Where’d you go?”
“I tried to go to Jake’s, but he was panicked.” Brad
squeezed his eyes shut tighter. “And I got it. He couldn’t risk getting
caught because his dad was like my dad. Narrow-minded, al-
American assholes, both of ’em. I didn’t want to get him in trouble.
I loved the bastard. I would’ve done anything for him, so I left and
told him I’d be fine. I slept at the bus station and snuck in before
school to shower in the locker room. Then I went to class because I
wanted to see Jake. I thought he’d want to know I had it handled,
and I was worried about what Brian would do to him.”
“Brian?”
“My brother.”
“What did he do to him?” Gavin asked. “There had to be a
reason Jake turned against you.”
“Brian didn’t do shit to him.” Brad couldn’t resist roling his
eyes, his face stil turned away as he stared at the shadows on the
wal. “Brian assumed it was someone from another school because
my dad couldn’t remember what the guy on top of me looked like. I
mean, hel, you’d think my dad would have noticed Jake,
considering he’d been my best friend since seventh grade. I guess
al he saw was his son getting it up the ass from some jock. It didn’t
even matter which jock, because I was on the bottom. That made
me really queer. It was like the guy giving it to me didn’t even
count.”
“Is that why you don’t bottom now?”
“I’m not ashamed of being gay. I got a rainbow sticker on my
bumper for a reason. I just got a few trust issues that fuck up
bottoming for me,” Brad whispered, remembering sulenly. “I used
to enjoy it.”
“You said you’d bottom for me,” Gavin reminded him gently,
as if only now realizing how much trust just making the offer had
required. “I’d never hurt you, Brad. I hope you know that.”
Uncomfortable, Brad went on, “Anyway, Jake didn’t have
anything to say to me at school. He brushed me off al day. I figured
he was stil freaked, so I didn’t think much on it. I was just glad he
was in the clear. Then when I was walking back to the bus station,
my brother and eight other guys from the footbal team cornered
me, caling me al the typical nasty shit. The thing was—” Brad
swalowed hard because tears were threatening despite his best
effort to fight them—“Jake was one of ’em.”
Gavin cupped Brad’s chin, his thumb caressing his cheek; his
voice was quivering as if he was fighting tears right along with Brad.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I was stunned speechless,” Brad whispered as he lost the
battle against tears and jerked his face out of Gavin’s grasp, burying
his cheek in the pilow to hide. “I couldn’t say a damn word. Al I
could do was gawk at this guy I’d loved since middle school as he
hurled the most venomous shit I’d ever heard at me. Jake was
easily the worst of the group, even more vicious than my brother,
who’d been waiting his whole life for an excuse to get the better of
me. When I did finaly find my voice, I hadn’t said two words
before Jake nailed me, a total sucker punch because I wasn’t
expecting it. He must have been afraid I’d say something, but the
bitch of it is, I wouldn’t have. He could have said anything he
wanted, and I wouldn’t have outed him. He and the other guys
practicaly beat me to death, and I just took it rather than out him. I
loved him that fucking much, and what good did it do me?”
“Did someone cal the cops?” Gavin asked, his voice raspy,
making it obvious he was crying with Brad. “That’s a hate crime.
It’s assault. Hel, nine on one, they could’ve got ’em for attempted
murder. Did they get tried as adults?”
A broken laugh slipped out of Brad, because it figured that
was where Gavin’s mind went. “I was a fag in a smal town. The
hate crime was considered a given twenty years ago. In a lot of
places it’s still a given. They got a slap on the wrist, and I got a
four-day stay in the hospital.”
“How did you survive that?” Gavin asked, sounding heartsick
and mystified. “What did you do when you got out?”
“An EMT who showed up on the scene took one look at my
brother sitting handcuffed on the curb and said that was about the
most fucked-up thing he’d ever seen, my twin turning on me like
that just ’cause of who I chose to be with. He was the only one
who visited me in the hospital when my own mother couldn’t be
bothered to see if I lived or died. He was a good guy,” Brad said,
finaly finding some sort of strength from a terrible memory. “When I
got out, he let me stay with him for a few days until I was a little
stronger, gave me spending money and bus fare to get the fuck out
of town, and made me promise to keep in touch with him.”
“Didja?”
Brad smiled. “Yeah, his name’s Mike Hafner. I stil talk to
him. Sends me pictures of his kids and stuff on Christmas. I’d go
back and see him, but you know, my parents live five blocks up
from him, so that ain’t happening. Al I can do is pass on the favor,
help out other kids hurting for being born different.”
“That’s why you became a firefighter, isn’t it? Because of
your buddy helping you out?”
“Hel, yes,” Brad said in a voice stil choked with tears. “Fuck
footbal. I was determined to be an EMT. The second I got to
Tampa, I got my high school diploma going to night school and
didn’t look back. The firefighter gig was an accident. I was hiding
from my memories, and I joined up as a volunteer firefighter a few
days a week on the side to just totaly wear myself out and sleep
without the nightmares. I guess I’m an adrenaline junkie, because I
loved it enough to change career paths. Give me a burning building
any day. I live to wear my turnouts and feel the heat.”
“Adrenaline junkie, like hel.” Gavin laughed in disbelief. “Al
you firefighters have a hero complex. You live for the worship.”
“Screw you.” Brad forgot his heartache to turn and glare up
at Gavin. “I do it ’cause I love my fucking job.”
“Bulshit, you love the attention. Sit you guys on a street
corner looking hot in your tight black T-shirts and you make a smal
fortune. Everyone stuffs money in your boots, and you fucking love
it.”
Brad grabbed the metal he was cuffed to, shaking the
headboard once more. “That’s an important fund-raiser!”
“It’s an ego trip,” Gavin said in a singsong voice, his smile
bright in the darkness. “You don’t see cops out there showing their
pecs for charity. We got pride, man. We cold-cal people to raise
money and do shit like hand out bumper stickers that make people
think they’re safe from getting a ticket. That’s quality fund-raising.”
Brad ended up laughing beneath Gavin, which seemed insane
considering he just slit his wrists and bled out the bitterest parts of
his soul. He knew Gavin lightened the mood on purpose. Things
were too intense, too dark and malevolent. Before this moment,
Brad wouldn’t have believed he could tel that story and end up
laughing a few minutes later. Gavin was like a balm for his soul, and
Brad wanted to kiss him for it. His heart sweled with love for this
man, and he knew the desire was written al over his face.
“Wil you get these fucking things off me now?” Brad
wheezed, holding up his wrists as evidence. “I wanna fuck you. I’l
find the strength to push you away later.”
Gavin’s grin faded as he frowned down at Brad in disbelief.
“Did you just hear what left your mouth?”