0 comments/ 20778 views/ 1 favorites Gabriel By: ~justin The voice was but an echo, softer than a lover's whisper in his ear; but Gabriel instinctively knew to whom it belonged. Unable to resist the silent call, he turned to face its owner. He was careful to keep his slate eyes blank as he eyed her, though the corner of his mouth twitched slightly. The darkness at this hour was near absolute, but neither of them had any trouble seeing the other. There was not a breath of wind in the alley, Gabriel noted. Just another of the myriad effects she had on her surroundings. With some effort, he relaxed his slender frame and allowed his eyes to flick past her to the street. Also deserted, as far as he could tell - and then he felt it; that subtle pressure in his temples as she realigned his eyeballs so that he was looking where she wanted him to look. Their eyes locked. "Gabriel," she repeated. Slowly, he dropped to one knee and bowed from the neck, as both of them knew was his duty. The ghost of a smile flitted across her pale features, then she spoke again. "We hunt." Gabriel suppressed a start. That wasn't what he had expected to hear - he was her favoured assassin, not her favoured hunting partner. Unless... but he blotted out that thought before she could see it. He stood as she leapt the five metres to the nearest roof, her lithe form flying upwards almost effortlessly. Grabbing hold of the rusted fire escape, he launched himself up, past the dingy windows and crumbly brick wall, to land soundlessly beside her on the cement. He turned to look at her. They were of roughly the same height, just shy of six feet, and were of similar - slender - build. No human would know, to look at her, that she was hundreds of years older than he - her pale skin still had the same youthful sheen as his. She had ruled him for the better part of a century; she was the one who had initiated his unlife, and as such, he was bound inextricably to her. Not that she was a demanding mistress, as he knew some could be, but there was always tension between them. Glancing at her face, he was surprised to see her grin impishly at him. "Run with me," she said, and was off, leaping from roof to roof, dashing along gutters, her black mane flowing behind her. Gabriel paused a moment in thought, then followed, catching up to her within the span of two blocks. They ran together, soundlessly, for several kilometres. The city around them was dead - only the occasional streetlight betrayed the presence of any life at all; the buildings were abandoned and decrepit. The moon hid behind dark, rolling clouds, lending an eerie quality to the ethereal orange glow of the streetlights. As they approached one of the slum districts surrounding the downtown area, signs of habitation began to appear. Traffic lights; the occasional car, and even - Gabriel's ears picked up a faint sound, then, and he stopped. She heard it as well, and moved to stand beside him. A faint slurping noise, from down below in a nearby alley. As one, the pair leapt to the next building. The sound was definitely coming from the alley below them, and, by the car parked illegally just in front of it, Gabriel had a fair idea of what the sound was. An audible groan from below clinched it. Moving over to the edge of the roof, the pair peered down into the gloom. A young blonde woman was on her knees in front of a tall, well-built man. His hands were on the sides of her head, and Gabriel heard him moan again as he bucked his hips. The woman had her hands on his buttocks, and, as Gabriel watched, she slipped two fingers into the pocket of his jeans and extracted a plump wallet. Gabriel smirked, and glanced across to his mistress. "You can use my name, you know," she remarked quietly, without turning. "It's no disrespect." Her name. Alyssa. Gabriel had never had occasion to use it, and it wasn't in his thoughts when he thought of her. "Very well - Alyssa," he said softly. She stood, and, stepping over the edge, dropped down to land, without so much as a scuff of her boots, behind the man in the alley. Gabriel followed suit, making sure to jump while the man's eyes were closed, and landing behind the girl. The man was grunting rhythmically now, and the woman slurping on his shaft had begun to squeeze his balls as if to force an orgasm out of him so she could be on her way. Then his cock slid out of her mouth with a light pop, and she looked up in confusion in time to see Alyssa spin him around single-handedly and pull him to her by the shoulders. Gabriel felt the girl start when he grasped her shoulder firmly, and lifted her easily by the armpits, the delicious scent of her fear washing over him. Glancing at Alyssa, he saw her messily slurping at her victim's neck as gouts of blood spurted from it, the sound a grim parody of the one that had lured them here. Gabriel pinned the girl against the alley wall, and watched her eyes widen as she saw his fangs lengthening with hunger. Covering her mouth with one hand, he pierced her jugular and felt raw adrenaline course through him as the first drop of her blood passed his lips. He was caught up in the moment as he drank all he could of her, uncontrolled hunger coursing through him. Gabriel felt the girl's heart flutter, then stop. Letting the husk of her body drop as he wiped his mouth, he turned to see Alyssa watching him. Silhouetted by the alley's exit, he couldn't help but admire her slender form as she moved slowly toward him. "You were hungry," she said. It was a statement, not a question. "You're still hungry." Gabriel nodded slightly. His adrenaline rush was fading, but, had his heart still been beating, it would have been racing. "I'm still hungry," Alyssa continued, "and you're going to let me drink." Gabriel's mind reeled as he processed what she had just said. Her will bound him, though, and he obediently stepped away from the corpse at his feet and tilted his head back. He started as he felt her fingers' feathery caress on his neck, but found himself unable to move, not even when her tongue slipped between her lips and she gently licked and kissed the skin above his jugular. Gabriel was strangely aroused by the intimacy of the moment, and surprised that Alyssa wanted him to share himself in this way. No one had ever asked this of him. All thought stopped for him, though, when she bit into his neck and began to drink. It was as if his pleasure/pain receptors had short-circuited, or as if he had died a mortal and gone to both heaven and hell simultaneously. He felt a renewed surge of adrenaline as she drank from him, and, dimly, heard himself moaning aloud as she sucked the blood from his torn throat. Alyssa stepped into him and he moved back, feeling her press him against the wall, her hands gently holding his head back as she drank - not that Gabriel was struggling. On the contrary, his body was suffused with an unearthly warmth, numbing the pain but intensifying the pleasure; his thought process slowed to a crawl, then stopped entirely as he reveled in the moment. But entirely too soon, that moment passed. Alyssa released him, and his innate healing abilities took over: the gash in his throat closed, the scar tissue turning pink, then returning to its usual pale hue. Gabriel sagged back against the wall, sapped of his strength. Alyssa eyed him, and smiled. "You've never done that before." "No," panted Gabriel, as he fought to stand on his own. "But thank you." "You'll be hungrier now. Let's find a second course." The words came from above Gabriel's head, and he realized with some shock that Alyssa was already back on the roof. Feeling somewhat less enervated, he made it to the roof in two jumps, pausing midway on the fire escape to rest. "I know you're tired," said Alyssa, "but resting doesn't make it better. You have to feed. We probably won't have to go far to find another pair like the last one." With that, she was off across the rooftops again. Gabriel noticed that her pace was somewhat slower this time, to accommodate. She was right, though - barely two minutes passed before, over the steadily increasing drone of late-night traffic, their keen ears picked up the sounds of quiet conversation emanating from an alley below. He halted, panting. "I suppose we could have searched the buildings for bums rather than running," Alyssa remarked, pulling up beside him, "but I like to run." "Alyssa," Gabriel said between pants, "you're a bitch." She laughed in response, and he smiled. Down in the alley, a short Asian woman was handing a wad of bills to a thin black man in exchange for a small bag of white powder. Gabriel didn't care one way or the other what was going on down there; hunger gnawed at him like a cat tearing at his insides. Alyssa noticed his expression and gestured downward. Together, they dropped down to street level as before; one on each side of the human pair. Gabriel grabbed the man and tore his throat open without even noticing the fist he caught in the jaw. He drank hungrily, draining his victim faster than he would have believed possible, and, when the man's flailing stopped, he spun, as if expecting to find further prey. Rather than dulling the edge of his hunger, feeding had intensified it. Alyssa, however, was drinking more slowly; she seemed to almost enjoy her petite victim's aimless thrashing. Gabriel stalked toward them, barely keeping a handle on his hunger. As he approached, Alyssa looked up from her meal, and her bloodstained lips spread into a smile. She tossed the woman aside and wiped her mouth, paying no heed to her victim's hapless gurgling. "Drink," she said, and tilted her head back. With a feral grin, Gabriel grasped her neck in both hands and bit into it. The first drop of her blood passed his lips and she moaned, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing him to her. As their bodies meshed together, her breasts pushed against his chest and his growing erection hard against her crotch, both lost themselves completely. Gabriel grabbed the collar of her bodysuit and ripped it down and off her without missing a gulp from her bleeding throat. Alyssa instinctively ripped her hands apart, tearing his pants clean off, and they stepped apart momentarily to let the fabric fall away. Their eyes locked; there was no need for words between them now. She put her hands on his neck and lifted both of her legs off the ground as Gabriel held her by her thighs. She wrapped her legs around him as he bent his head down and lapped at the blood still flowing freely from her throat. As her legs clenched tight around him, Gabriel's throbbing shaft slid effortlessly into her, and they groaned in unison. He held her in place as she began to buck her hips, and drank greedily, piercing her throat again with his fangs when it started to heal. Gabriel felt as if nothing could slake his thirst; that this flow of crimson blood would continue well into forever. For them, the outside world ceased to exist; the blood pounding in Gabriel's skull drowned out the feeble noises of the city's nightlife. Neither one of them was even aware of anything besides the other - amidst the pair's frenzied coupling, everything dissolved in a sea of blood. There was a point, then, when time ceased altogether; they topped the crest of their orgasm as one and held onto it for as long as they could. Neither of them moved save for the lapping of Gabriel's tongue, claiming every drop of blood it could. Gabriel felt Alyssa shudder against him then, her torn neck moving against his mouth as he drank. But he was barely conscious of it - he only knew that, while he was physically satisfied, his hunger was far from sated. He felt revived; invigorated. A dim part of the remnants of Gabriel's conscious mind noted that Alyssa was pushing against him now, trying to extricate herself from his grip - but she was so weak from her gift to him that he didn't notice. Her blood pounded in his veins and head, preventing any coherence from returning. Gabriel drank, and drank, and drank - until there was no more. When her bleeding finally halted, it was not due to Alyssa's innate healing abilities. Sanity made an ignominious entrance into Gabriel's addled brain, and he became aware that the body he held so firmly in his grasp was far too still. Starting, he let go and Alyssa's corpse hit the alley floor with a dull thud. She was pale, paler than he had ever seen her, and, as he watched in horror, her body gradually turned a uniform shade of grey. Reaching out, Gabriel's hand brushed her shoulder... and she crumbled. Moments later, a pile of ash was all that remained. The sounds of the city began to creep into his consciousness. More cars, now; the clouds had lifted, and the moon was sinking. He heart faint scuffing sounds; small animals scavenging what they could from the nearest dumpster, probably. Gabriel bowed his head over the Alyssa's remains, closing his eyes. He lifted a hand, touched the ash with a finger - the beginnings of an apology - but then he felt a new sensation come over him, washing the beginnings of regret and remorse away. Something intangible, but incontrovertible; something beautiful and magical. Something he hadn't felt in over half a century. He paused momentarily, reveling in it; feeling the hot flush of joy it sent surging through him. Without so much as a second glance at the Alyssa's ashes, he leapt and was gone. Free. Gabriel * * * * * Click Here to listen. (25 min/RealMedia) You need Real Player to listen to this file. * * * * * The long lean frame twitched, flexed, jerked as a knock on his bedroom door pulled the young man from beneath the surface of sleep. The raven black head burrowed deeper into the pillows, defiantly ignoring the voice that broke rudely through the fragile pane of his morning. "Breakfast, Sir!" More knocking. He rolled slowly, reluctantly to the far side of the elegant four-poster bed and, draping long legs over the edge, wedged cold feet into warm slippers. He sat still for another moment, brown eyes adjusting to the flood of light from the windows, the drapes of which he had negligently left open the night before. Tanned tapered fingers spliced through the ebony silk of his hair before reaching for the deep red brocade robe that lay at the foot of the bed, drawing it smoothly onto his shoulders as, at last, he stood. Scratching his cheek absently, he shuffled lazily to the double doors from whence the pounding emanated, waited for another knock, and then, grinning mischievously, yanked open the doors in a great WHOOSH, startling the woman with the silver meal tray . . . her fist clenched in mid-air. "Oh!" She gasped, reaching to steady the tray. "That was rather childish, Sir." she grumbled, fighting to repress her laughter. "I rather thought so, myself, yes." The young man said, smiling as he reached for the tray. "I'll just take this Alexandra, thank you." "You are going to eat it, this morning, aren't you?" "Hmmm?" "Sir, I'm tired of seeing these sent back to the kitchen ice cold and barely touched. You have to eat." "Of course. In fact, I'm visiting the horses today. On second thought, I'll have my breakfast in the study, this morning. Have it brought down and see that the newspaper is ready and waiting on my desk." He handed the tray back to the cook and lifted the lid, eyeing the coffee. "How strong is that?" "Same as usual, Sir." "I have some business to attend to, today, Alexandra. Could you whip something up a bit stronger? Cuban, perhaps?" "Of course, Sir." Turning he made his way to the bathroom and splashed his face with a bit of cold water he had cupped in his hands. He shook his head, blinking rapidly and studied his reflection. Small drops of water clung to the tips of the long dark lashes that framed his eyes. His nose was slightly too large for his face but many found it endearing. He looked closer. The dark circles were still there, less pronounced, perhaps, but noticeable all the same. He tried to smile, but it appeared almost like a grimace, lips splitting broadly, revealing a mouth full of large white teeth. He pulled back and stood quite still for a moment before shaking himself from his stupor. It was time to get back out there. He had mourned Jodie long enough. He brushed his teeth and left the room, trotting briskly down the spiraling staircase to his study on the second floor. On his desk next to his computer were the newspaper and his breakfast tray, just as he had requested. Alexandra had replaced his usual coffee with a small cup of espresso. The corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked smirk. Atta girl! He thought as he sat down with a sigh in the leather wingback chair. He switched on the computer and started on his breakfast. Picking up a piece of bacon, he logged onto the Internet and checked his email. After deleting more than a dozen articles of spam, he clicked on his 'favorites' folder and brought up the message board he had recently begun posting on. As he signed in under his chosen screen name, The Bard, he refreshed his memory as to what he had chosen to reveal of himself to these people he barely knew. They knew his real name, of course, but he had decided to tell them a slightly fabricated version of the truth when it came down to the details. He chuckled under his breath as he read some of the posts addressed to him. He had told them he was a groom. He found that the truth was not as easy to believe. Gabriel was the 27-year-old heir to a thoroughbred racing dynasty. Some of the horses in his stable had blood that could be traced back to Seattle Slew, Native Dancer, War Admiral and even the great one, himself, Man 'O War. He found that he could still share his love of his horses with the faceless folks in cyberspace if he claimed he merely tended them, rather than actually owning them. One thread caught his eye, as it was addressed solely to him. Gabriel, please read this! the title read. He clicked on the link and smiled as he read the post. It was from his favorite poster, a woman calling herself 'Viola'. Hey there, Gabe. I just finished reading the little 'family history' you were kind enough to respond with, and I'll admit, I am fascinated. Did you really spend your entire life working on the same farm? I was impressed with your bravery and devotion, giving up on a college education to take care of your mother after your father passed away. There aren't many who would display the kind of loyalty that you have. Perhaps one day you will return to your schooling? I believe you have a genuine gift with words and it would be a pity not to refine it and use it to some degree in your day to day life. Perhaps you should consider writing a book about your life or the horses you love so much. By the way, Sun God sounds simply breath-taking! I would love to see a picture of him, should you have one handy. Also, below is my picture . . . He scrolled down further and froze in mid-chew. The picture was of a young woman, approximately 22 or 23 with long curly carrot-orange hair, green eyes and flawless alabaster skin. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The picture was still there and it had not changed. For a split second he considered the possibility that he had seen a ghost . . . she was the spitting image of Jodie; eyes a bit greener, a bit smaller, not nearly as cat-like, yet still the resemblance was remarkable. He made up his mind. He simply had to meet this woman. Previously, she had mentioned that they lived less than an hour apart, yet he had resisted her obvious invitation. The barrier, however, was now shattered. He posted a quick response: Stunning picture, Viola. There is more beauty in your glorious visage than a sea after the storm, lit by the setting sun, melting into its welcoming waves. He laughed, a short burst of sound, as he scanned what he had just written. On this particular board, he had chosen, for some reason, to let the flowery sap run rampant and unchecked. It had worked better than even he could have imagined. The female posters flocked to his threads, hanging on his every contrived word. Perhaps, he continued, if you are not otherwise occupied, you would permit me to take you out to lunch today and then perhaps you could join me here and I could show you the horses. Sun God, I'm sure, would be eager to make your acquaintance. In case you are interested, I shall email you with my phone number. He clicked the 'post message' button, sent the aforementioned email and waited. Not 10 minutes later, his phone rang. He let it ring a couple times before picking up the receiver, pausing a moment and then replying, "Hello, Gabriel speaking." There was nervous laughter on the other end of the line and then, "Hi, Gabriel? I can't believe I'm doing this! This is Sarah, but you know me as Viola. From the message board?" she continued when he did not immediately respond. "Of course. Sarah. Lovely name. So how does lunch sound?" "It sounds marvelous! Where should we meet and what time?" "How about noon, at the little Italian place on Lincoln and 7th? You know the one?" "Of course. I've never been, but that sounds lovely." "Great! It's a date, then. I'll see you at noon. Ciao, Bella!" He didn't wait for her response before returning the receiver to the cradle. He quickly logged off of the computer and buzzed one of the staff to retrieve his half-eaten breakfast. He stood and made his way back to his room, taking the stairs two at a time. No sooner had he showered and dressed but there was a knock on the door. "Yes, what is it?" "Sir, I thought you were going to eat this morning?" "Alexandra, kindly keep out of my affairs!" he said, but there was no sternness to his voice, which instead teetered on the edge of mirth. "If I choose to starve myself, it is well within my rights as a grown man, not a child. There is, however, a change of plans. I am going out for lunch, today." "Oh really, Sir? With whom, might I ask?" "You may not. Please have Arthur bring the car around." "Which one, Sir?" "The Bentley. No . . . the blue Jag. I'll be down momentarily." "As you wish, Sir." Her retreating footsteps let him know that she had gone to carry out his request. He pulled on a tailored black leather jacket and followed two flights of stairs down to the foyer, crossed the room and opened the front door, just as Arthur rolled to a stop at the top of the drive. He proceeded down the front steps and down the curving granite walkway to the waiting car. The middle-aged man inside promptly opened the door, stepped gingerly out and moved to the side, making way for Gabriel's tall frame. Gabriel slid into the driver's seat, thanked Arthur and shut the door, already beginning to roll forward as he did so. As he drove, he fiddled with the radio, but was dissatisfied with every station, finally deciding he was not in the mood for music and choosing to forgo it, altogether. In truth, he was uncommonly nervous. What would he say to her when finally they met face to face? Would there be long awkward pauses in the conversation where her only recourse would be to stare at his large ears (which stuck out obtrusively from his head). He had always hated his ears, even once considering surgery to correct them. He glanced down briefly at his hands on the steering wheel, his gaze settling on the ruby signet ring on his right pinky. Women, however, never seemed to notice his ears. They only saw the money and it irked him. Perhaps, he thought as a means of justification, that was why he had lied about who he really was. He was so tired of seeing the dollar signs dancing in their eyes. He pressed just a bit harder on the gas pedal, noting that time was quickly slipping away from him. It would be absolutely inexcusable for him to arrive late. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the scenery blur by as the miles vanished before him. Almost before he knew it, he was pulling into the parking lot of the quaint little restaurant. Scanning the row of parked cars, he wondered if she had already arrived and was waiting for him inside, and if she had, which car was hers. He remembered her wild mass of red curls and decided on the vintage red VW bug. So sure was he of this, that he parked the blue '68 Jaguar beside it and exited the car. He stood for a moment, drawing in a deep calming breath, and started toward the door, hoping that if she had already arrived he would not have to look long for her. He was not disappointed; as soon as he entered, he spotted her. She was seated in a corner booth, her eyes focused intently on the menu in front of her, urgently, almost; as if it held the secrets of the universe. He smiled and strode forward, closing the distance between them and cleared his throat just before he reached the table. She looked up with a start, green eyes widening and her face lighting up with her smile. She stood and greeted him with a handshake. He studied her as they both slid into the booth. She was shorter than he had thought she would be, topping out at just over 5 feet; shorter than Jodie. Her hair was also not as brilliant a red as Jodie's, though it had appeared so in her picture (a trick of lighting or PhotoShop, perhaps?). She did, however, have a lovely smattering of freckles that dusted her face, neck and arms. He wondered with the faintest shadow of a smirk just what else she had that was freckled. "So, Gabriel . . . " she started, yanking him from his train of thought. "It's great to finally meet you." "Likewise." He said with a grin. "You look amazing. Just like your picture." Only a small lie, he thought. She did look amazing. She blushed prettily and dropped her head for a moment (embarrassed, perhaps?) before angling back up and meeting his gaze once more at an upward slant. "You know," she said in an almost conspiratorial whisper, "I'm quite the envy of the other girls because of this. Did you stay online long enough to read some of the responses to your post?" He shook his head to let her know that he had not, but remained silent, waiting for her to continue. "There were several marriage proposals and one telling me to burn in hell." They both laughed at that. "I'm flattered . . . I think." "You should be, but tell me something." "What's that?" "Now that I see you here, those clothes, that fabulous ring . . . you don't look much like a groom." He sat back and regarded her silently for a moment before responding. "Ah. So the shoe drops." "The shoe?" "Yes, that. I am not a groom." "So I had gathered. Would you mind telling me, then, just what it is you do, in fact, do?" He cleared his throat. "I race horses. I own a racing stable about 45 minutes from here. It has been in my family for generations. I am the current 'heir to the throne', you might say." "Ah. So Sun God does exist?" "He does. He is my pride and joy. I was there for his foaling and oversaw his training myself. He is, however, just one of the beautiful creatures I have at Foxwood." "Foxwood." she repeated, rolling the name over her tongue like a note of music. "The family estate, I take it?" He nodded. "To the manor born, hmm?" He smiled, almost shyly. "I'm sorry for the deception. I did not think, given the nature of the beast you could say, that I would be believed, had I been up front." "Honestly, you may be correct. I don't think I, myself, would have believed you." She giggled and fiddled with the menu. "Shall we order?" He glanced quickly at his own menu as their waiter materialized beside the table. He listened absently as the young man rattled off the specials and then they both placed their orders, shooing him away with very little patience. They chatted animatedly until their food arrived, then continued in short spurts. By the time their plates were cleared, they had fallen into a contented silence. He studied her closely for another moment. "Would you like to see it?" "See what?" "Foxwood. Would you like to see the horses? My home?" Sarah hesitated for a brief instant and then said, "You know what? I'd love to." "Great!" He tossed some cash on the table and reached for her hand. She took it without hesitation and followed him out into the parking lot. He walked her to his car and she stopped for a moment. "This is your car?" "Yes. And that one . . . " he pointed to the bug, "is yours, I gather?" "How did you . . .?" "Trust me. I know cars and I know people." She shrugged and stepped away. "I'll follow you out." "Why don't you ride out with me? I have some business to attend to up here this evening, so it's no bother at all for me to bring you back. I'd appreciate the company." She agreed and he practically ran to the passenger's side to open the door for her. She smiled and slid neatly inside. A moment later, he had seated himself beside her and was quickly pulling away. The time flew by as they continued their conversation. How long had it been, he wondered, since it had been Jodie beside him like this . . . eagerly chatting away? A year, perhaps? He mentally tallied the days and months. Yes, it had been quite nearly a year. As they pulled up to the gate, which opened as they neared it, her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. "Oh, Gabriel, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed. "That it is. It's nice to see it through fresh eyes. I get so used to it. To me, it's just home." He honked briefly as he pulled to a stop at the top of the drive. An instant later, one of the front doors burst open and Arthur appeared . . . ever on his toes. Gabriel smiled and got out of the car, coming around and helping Sarah to her feet. She watched Arthur get into the car. "A redhead." she said. He chuckled. "Not as rare as you thought, huh? Come on. I'll give you the grand tour." He led her into the foyer, noting her expression of awe with a certain measure of pride. They walked, side by side, up the grand staircase and he took her from room to room. When they reached the third floor, Alexandra greeted them on the landing. Gabriel felt Sarah stiffen beside him. "Ah, you're back, Sir!" "Yes, Alexandra. I'd like you to meet Sarah." "Nice to meet you, Sarah." Then to Gabriel, "She looks rather like . . ." she stopped mid-sentence when she saw his expression. "I'll just go see about dinner." And then she was off. "Are Arthur and Alexandra related?" Sarah inquired. "No, why do you ask?" "Her hair. She's also a redhead." "So she is. Shall we see the horses, then?" She remained silent for a moment, but agreed. They left the main house and followed the path through a wooded area and then a short clearing before coming to the first of the sprawling paddocks. Sarah paused every few steps to admire the many brood mares grazing on either side. They finally reached the farthest paddock and there before them was Sun God. Gabriel watched her face as she took in the sight. "Oh," she breathed. "He's beautiful!" "Yes, he is. You'll find many beautiful things, here. I like having them around me. I'm somewhat of a collector, you might say." "Is that so?" "It is. Just a moment. He's due for his feeding. I've got to bring him inside." He left her at the gate and entered the paddock, whistling softly. The golden chestnut stallion turned eagerly and greeted him with a soft nicker. Gabriel strode toward him and took hold of his halter, leading him out and toward the first of five stables. Sarah followed at a short distance. Before they could reach the entrance, a groom dashed out with a lead shank and led Sun God the rest of the way inside. Gabriel turned to find Sarah standing stock still several paces behind him. Her eyes were wide and her feet were firmly planted. "What is it?" "That boy . . . he's . . . he's a redhead, too." "Yes. I only employ redheads." She looked at him as if he had suddenly sprouted a second head. "You find this odd?" "I find it very odd, frankly." "I told you, I was rather fond of red hair." "Don't you think that is a little . . . extreme?" "Nonsense. It's just eccentric. When one has the means, one can be as exceedingly eccentric as one pleases." She shrugged and looked to have dropped the subject. He seized the opportunity and went quickly to her side. "May I show you something, Sarah? Something very special?" "What is it?" "It's my most beautiful collection. Come. Let me show you." She regarded him cautiously, but soon relented; grinning as she took his hand. "Sure, Gabriel. I'd love to see. Won't you tell me what it is?" "Shhh. I don't want to ruin the surprise." He led her past the stables to a small building that looked as if it could be a guesthouse. There were several padlocks on the door and he produced a large ring of keys from his coat pocket. He made quick work of the locks and then ushered her inside. The smell of incense was so thick as to be almost unbearable and Sarah let forth several gagging coughs. "Sorry about the smell." he said. "I've found it's quite necessary." Gabriel All the curtains were drawn and the room was quite black. Gabriel reached behind Sarah for the light switch and she heard the faint click of a lock before light flooded the room. The sound made her freeze. And then she screamed. Gabriel appeared beside her, graceful as a cat, and clamped a hand over her mouth. "Sarah . . . I'd like you to meet Jodie." he whispered, ignoring her flailing arms and her attempts at biting his hand. Before them in one corner, seated on a throne-like chair, was a partially decayed corpse. Gabriel dragged Sarah forward and lovingly stroked the brittle red curls that still protruded from greenish flesh that still clung precariously from the gleaming white skull that peeked out at them from the large sections where the skin had already fallen away. "My beautiful Jodie. The finest of my little collection." He forced Sarah to turn with him toward the rest of the room. In each corner sat a similar corpse . . . each with the same red curls, only the other three were in far more advanced stages of decay. Gabriel trapped Sarah's desperately kicking legs between his own and held her still, his grip vice-like, biting into her flesh with his fingers. "There's even a spot for you, Sarah. Just for you!" Indeed, in the center of the room sat an empty chair, identical to the others. Sarah jerked with renewed horror and finally managed to sink her teeth into the fleshy part of his palm. He yelped in pain and released her mouth. Instantly she let loose a blood-curdling scream and fought desperately to get away from him. He grunted in his frustration and slammed his fist down on the crown of her head with all the strength he could muster. She instantly went limp in his arms. He scooped her up and carried her the rest of the way to the chair; placing her gently down into it and propping her up so she did not slump over to the side. Finally, he drew up the long length of chain which had been pooled around the legs of the chair and wrapped it several times around each ankle and wrist, then her midsection and throat. He padlocked the chain to the floor, just as he had the others and stood back to study his handiwork. Beautiful! He thought. So exquisitely beautiful. "You could be her twin!" he whispered, looking from Sarah to Jodie and back again. "Remarkable!" He thought about gagging her . . . she would regain consciousness shortly . . . but decided against it. He had not gagged the others and he rather liked listening to the screaming. The room was insulated so no sound would escape; her music would be for him and him alone. He started toward the door, turned for another long look at his lovely collection with it's newest freshest addition, then exited, locking up behind him. He strode out to the nearest paddock, leaned against the fence and took a deep cleansing breath of crisp air. The sun was beginning to set and he watched as it made it's slow descent. He smiled. It had been a lovely day. Gabriel Gabriel was a neighbor lady with two young sons that I babysat for starting when I was 17. Her two boys were nine and ten, they were well behaved little guys and I enjoyed teaching them about baseball and hitting balls for them to catch in the ball field near their house. Gabriel had a husband but he was an Air Force pilot and was almost never home. She was in her 40's but very trim and attractive--and her French accent knocked me out. She had short dark hair and flashing dark eyes, a bright smile and a cute little laugh that made me want to be funny just to hear it. It must have been obvious to her that I was smitten, I followed her around like a puppy whenever I could. She always worked late on Wednesday evenings and would arrive home after eleven—we always sat and talked for a while, the boys went to bed at nine and were fast asleep by the time she came home. It became a regular job for me and I looked forward to it. The Wednesday I'll never forget was the day before my eighteenth birthday. When she came home she had a package. It was a birthday present for me—a red V-neck sweater that I wore and cherished for years. When the clock struck midnight she went to the refrigerator, took out a bottle of champagne, reached out for my hand and led me to her bedroom. We made love all night and continued, whenever we could, over the next six months, until I went away to college. She was very sensuous and taught me how to please a woman like only the French can do. She loved it when I gently desensitized her by lightly and slowly rubbing the tip of my penis from her clit down her slit—so soft and slow until her juices poured out of her and her thighs glistened with her delicate moisture. I could feel the heat rising from her and inhaled her lovely scent. Her breathing came in short gasps and I kissed my way down from her tight erect nipples. She liked me to gently caress each nipple and later after she had two or three orgasms--suckle them harder. Toward the end of our time together she could orgasm this way. I would pause to run my tongue around her navel, a cute little outie that I loved to tease. I slowly worked my way lower. It always turned me on, and still does thinking about it, when my tongue touched her clit. It seemed to have a life of its own and I could feel it grow and harden in my lips. I couldn't get enough. With her as a tutor I learned to hold back, not an easy task for an eighteen year old. But I wanted it to last as long as possible. I was in heaven. After the first few times, she usually gave in before me and pulled me inside her. One night, when we were all alone she seemed to want it to last and last and I licked her from stem to stern for what seemed like hours. I forced my tongue as deep inside her as I could and settled into a position where I could massage her vagina with my tongue on the rough spot a couple of inches into her glorious love canal at the top. I kept forcing my tongue in deeper and deeper. She usually came three or four times before she reached for me to enter when we made love. This time she seemed to be holding back too. She was becoming so excited that I thought she might pass out—she was so loud I was glad that the boys weren't home—they were on a sleep-over. She pulled my head up to her clit and held it really tight. She held her knees and pulled her legs further apart She came so hard, her back arched and she flooded me and the bedding with almost a cup of sweet fluid. Of course it was all new to me—but it was new to her too. I was so turned on and so hard and so big that when I entered her from behind, with her propped up on pillows, she had trouble handling all of me. I continued to plunge her depths. It was the first time I had been into her so deep, the first time I felt that our lovemaking was out of control, had taken on a life of it's own. It was like the two of us ceased to be individuals and merged together to become one. I moved up higher on her back and my penis was hitting that same rough spot I was reaching with my tongue earlier. The roughness must have desensitized me because I held off until she was whimpering with pleasure. It was awesome. It happened again—this time she flooded me with her fluids, it felt like a warm, gentle geyser as it coated my balls and dripped down my legs. I had never been, or could have imagined being so turned on. I came deep inside her. I could feel her cervix contracting—it seemed to be pulling me even deeper into her. We were both drenched. We had to pull the covers and sheets off the bed it was so wet. We wrapped ourselves around each other and fell asleep in the only dry corner of the bed. We were both so spent that the next morning we woke up in the same position. After that it happened almost every time we made love and every time it was just as satisfying. This was something that was virtually unknown at the time. Gabriel From the moment she woke this morning, everything had gone wrong. She was beginning to feel as if she'd been cursed for some strange reason. There was a bruise blossoming on her forehead where she'd connected with the edge of the door when she'd gone to brush her teeth earlier this morning. She found it difficult to remember the last time that she'd felt this clumsy and inept. At least this was one of her days off. 'Perhaps', she thought to herself, 'It's for the best that I didn't end up driving anywhere today.' A Futurama theme song ringtone blared out of her phone, startling her. It displayed an unidentified number and she gave it an accusing glare as she grumbled, "If only there were a device that would shock the hell out of the person on the other side of the line..." Nobody but marketing and sales representatives seemed to call, anyway. She found herself frequently wanted to pitch the infernal device out the damned window, but it was too damned useful. With a heavy sigh she leaned back into the couch, eyes narrowing as she sipped at a can of soda. Some jagoff on television was talking about a revolutionary new product that could strip floors and clean clothes, as well as being utilized as a dessert topping, prompting her to make another strafing run through the woeful selection of channels at her command. In mid-surf the television gave out, releasing a small puff of magical blue smoke into the ether with a soft popping sound. An angry tic began jerking at the corner of her right eye as she white-knuckled the controller with a ferocity that almost had her shaking. The plastic groaned in protest under the pressure. Yep. Definitely one of those days. With a guttural growl she threw it across the room, watching it bounce off the now deceased appliance with a loud clinking sound. "OK! I GET IT! Something MUST be pissed off at me for this much to be going wrong at the same time." Working herself into a fine incoherent rage, she quickly stood and glared up at the ceiling, yelling, "What? Just WHAT THE HELL did I do, huh? I mean, for CHRISSAKE!" She jumped up and down several times, slamming her feet down hard on the floor in a flailing dance of frustration. Throwing a tantrum actually seemed to be making her feel better at this point and since nobody was around to witness it, she didn't have to feel utterly foolish. At the height of her frenzy, she heard a knock at the door that stopped her dead in her tracks. She crouched and peered around the corner towards the source of the noise. 'Who the hell could that be at this time of night?' she thought to herself as she wrapped the leopard print fleece robe she was wearing tighter around herself and moved through the kitchen to the front door. She padded up to it, leaning over and squinting as she looked through the peephole to see who dared to intrude on her moment of insane catharsis. The tall, broad shouldered individual standing on the front step of her apartment seemed to fill the entire hallway. Although his head was distorted in the curve of the glass, he looked fairly attractive. She frowned and took a step away from the door, her eyes narrowing as she asked, "Yes?" The voice on the other side of the door was a pleasant, rolling rumble. "You sounded like you might appreciate a little help." There was a brief pause, then he added, "Everything ok in there?" She leaned forward to peer through the hole in the door again. He'd stepped back from the door a little, his lips curling into an amused grin. Cute, yes. Serial Killer? Maybe. Her thoughts chased themselves as she replied, "Yep. Everything's just fine," her tone a little hard as she grumbled under her breath, "Git along, little doggie. Go bother somebody else in the building." She continued watching him, interested to see how he'd react. Hopefully he'd just end up leaving quietly. She'd be damned if she'd open her door for a stranger, no matter how gorgeous he happened to be. "You sure now? It sounded awful frenzied in there..." Her frown deepened as she noticed that his grin was broader now. Oh, so that's how he's gonna play it. She squared her shoulders, grating, "I'm so very thrilled that you're this concerned for the welfare of a person that you've never even met. Really." Her voice dropped into a low growl as she spat, "Now piss off." She watched as the man shook his head slowly, apparently in an attempt to keep from laughing. His voice echoed in the hallway as he asked, "Now, is that any way to treat a stranger with noble intentions?" If he didn't get off her goddamned steps, she'd take out his kneecaps with the baseball bat she kept by the door. "Fuck off, monkey boy. Run along and play with whatever it is you play with - just as long as you do it away from my door." The man crossed his arms now, the same look of amusement on his face. He showed no signs of moving. "I'll call the cops, jerkwad. They can always throw your tight white ass into a holding pen downtown, if you like. They're very accommodating that way." "Such vitriol for such a little girl...," She could hear him chuckling, and his expression actually softened as he added, "Does it make you feel better to keep people at a distance like this? Does it..." He paused and slowly slid his hands into the pockets of his black jeans, "satisfy you?" Why wasn't he leaving? More to the point, why wasn't she walking away from the damned door and calling the cops already? She brushed a lock of wavy blue hair back behind her ear and stepped away from the door. "Excuse me?" Her sea green eyes flashed with annoyance under a sharp fringe of Betty Page bangs as she let out a harsh laugh and sneered, "Aren't you the little Psychoanalyst? How entertaining. Kindly get the fuck off my steps." He was actually laughing now. It annoyed her to notice that he actually had a nice laugh. "Do you usually put up this much of a fight?" He asked. The phone was in the next room. All she had to do was walk down the hallway and collect it. Three little numbers and she could be free of this annoying person. And yet, it was the most intriguing thing that had happened all day. Well, for a long while, actually. His voice grew quiet as he said, "Are you so certain that you want me to leave?" It had been a damned long time since she'd been physically interested in anybody and she was startled to find that her body was definitely responding to his voice, no matter what arguments her mind happened to be making. He was obviously aware of how appealing he was and was enjoying taunting her. Both of these things should've made her want to clock him, but for some reason, she found herself curiously interested in the stranger on the other side of the door. She sighed and rolled her eyes, disgusted with her lack of willpower and common sense. "What is it, exactly, that you think you're going to get out of all this? A candy bar? A blow job? For chrissake, you could be a homicidal axe wielding maniac." She stepped towards the door, again peering out the peephole. His expression brightened and his lips curled into a wicked grin as he answered, "But isn't that part of the fun? Not knowing?" Good god, he was infuriating. She snapped, "I'm sure that it's more than a little thrilling when you easily outweigh your prey. I can't say that I share your sentiment at the moment." "Aren't you in the least bit interested? No sense of adventure?" His voice was still relaxed, casual, as he rocked back on a heel and grinned. She let out a sharp bark of laughter and said, "Perhaps you should try a less obvious tactic." He sighed and leaned forward, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his voice dropped an octave, "Perhaps you should have a little talk with your body. It seems to want the opposite of what you profess to." Her pulse jumped at his words, a light flush just beginning to color the surface of her cheeks. Her eyes narrowed as she growled, "What the fuck are you talking about?" His eyes seemed a little...different now as he looked back at her. In a voice full of promise and hunger he quietly said, "Open the door and I'll show you." A little zing of anticipation raced up her spine, bringing a hitching breath from her throat. Suddenly, she became aware of how very hot the hallway was becoming. As if a spectator in her own body, she now watched her hand slowly move towards the upper lock, her fingers wrapping around it. She shook her head to clear it, and pulled her hand away from the lock as if burned. What the hell was going on with her? She couldn't be THAT desperate, could she? Her voice quavered as she muttered, "Yeah, right." The man's voice was a maddening purr that set her body trembling slightly as he purred, "Little pigs, little pigs, let me in..." Ok, now this was getting downright creepy. Clearly, he was insane. "Please...," her voice cracked as she leaned against the door, shaking; her hair falling in a wavy blue curtain as she held a hand to the side of her head. "Please just...go away." What time was it now? It had to be at least eleven o clock at night. Her neighbors had to be wondering about this odd exchange at the top of the stairs. That is unless they were in the throes of deep sleep. His voice sounded a little huskier, more urgent as he answered, "You have my word that no harm that you do not desire will come to you. I only wish to...visit with you for a time." What a weird thing to say. She could feel her resolve flagging. She'd always had a weakness for certain voices and this man was firmly jamming his thumb on all of her buttons effortlessly with his. Something low in her gut clenched, tightening and shuddering as he added, "You can even have a weapon if it makes you feel any better." She remembered the military issue KaBar that her stepfather had given her that was silently resting under her pillow, and hurried to collect it. The feel of the heavy weapon in her hand grounded her, giving her something stable to hold onto as she padded back over to the door. What the hell am I doing? she asked herself as she held her arms stiff at her sides. Her breath was coming quickly now, her hands shaking she reached a hand up to the lock. It turned slowly – seeming almost to take forever. Finally, it clicked open. Now the lock on the door handle. She took a deep breath, steadying herself with the knife at her side. She turned the lock on the handle, then backed quickly into the bedroom where she'd have a good sight on him, her fingers curled around the handle of the knife in a deathgrip. Her heart hammered in her chest as the door began to open. The man with a secretive smile, his tone heated as he raised an eyebrow said, "Nice bathrobe." Without the distortion of the spyglass on the front door, he was actually more attractive, if that were even possible. Her hair spilled down the right side of her face, revealing a shorn scalp on the other side. He found himself wondering if she ever actually put the mohawk up. As he stepped inside, her heart leapt in her chest. He was so damned tall. And big. His black engineer boots made a distinctive sound on the hardwood floors as he took a step back and slowly closed the door, locking it behind him. His raven black hair was pulled back into a thick, wavy ponytail that hit him just below the shoulders. His eyes, a stunning hazel, glittered as he cocked his head to the side and sized her up with the bare vestiges of a smile. He wore a fairly weather-beaten black leather jacket and a white tank top that showed the swell of muscles under it to best advantage. He then looked around the room, taking everything in before his gaze flickered back over to her. He presented her with a sharptoothed grin and leaned back against the doorway, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. "At least you didn't have a shotgun." He chuckled softly. "Now...where were we?" The hungry look was back in his eyes again and he began shrugging out of his jacket as he took a step towards her. It slid down his arms, falling to the floor in a heap. Her eyes widened as she watched his muscles sliding beneath his skin. He had the tight build of a pretty large gymnast, and she found herself wondering exactly how limber he was. He looked to be in his mid thirties, but she'd been only marginally correct in being able to judge the ages of people around her in the past. Her mind was reeling, busily trying to process what was happening. For some reason, she was now having difficulty remembering exactly how he'd gotten inside. As he took a step towards her she took a step back, bringing the knife up, holding it out. "Not so fast, romeo..." She desperately wanted to remain in control of the situation, but it was obvious that she was losing it fast. Confusion addled her thoughts and she struggled to maintain slow, regular breathing. She drew a sharp intake of air as he darted towards her with an agility and speed that made her head spin. Within moments, he'd casually disarmed her, wrapping a strong arm around her as he nuzzled the nap of stubble behind her ear and purred, "You were saying?" She stood very still, eyes wide as he pressed up against her back. She could feel the hard length of him through the fabric of his jeans and she shuddered, whimpering softly. Without the damper of the door, the affect of his voice on her body easily tripled. Finally terrified now, she closed her eyes, resigning herself to whatever fate happened to bring to her in the next few moments. The dampness between her legs felt like a strange betrayal of sorts, and she found herself wondering if it would actually be rape if her body was willing. She didn't think that she'd ever been this sexually excited in her life. At once, she felt elated, and so very stupid. Tears began brimming at the edges of her eyes, spilling over her lashes and running down her cheeks in slick trails. Gentle hands slowly spun her around to face him. His presence was overwhelming. It threatened to consume her. He reached down, gingerly placing a finger under her chin and bringing her head up to look at him. "I told you that I meant you no harm and I meant it. Okay?" Her eyes shining with tears, she frowned at his words. She was now unsure of what to think. He smiled as he gazed down at her, his voice soft as he gently rubbed a thumb softly along the stubble on the side of her head. "It must be difficult to be so strong all the time. To never truly let go of anything for fear of falling and not being capable of getting back up." His words struck her soundly, ringing true in her soul. She'd never been able to just let go, to truly set any of her burdens down. Instead of making her bitter, the lack of emotional respite had made her distant over the years and incapable of letting anybody inside. Single most of her adult life, she supposed that she'd chosen to remain alone rather than face the prospect of putting her heart into the hands of somebody that could destroy her emotionally when they finally decided that they were tired of her and left. And they always left. Now that he'd pointed it out, she could feel her choice like suit of armor that had been grafted onto her spirit, weighing it down; however, she'd always seen it as necessary in order to keep on going. Her expression hardened, and she pulled away from him, her voice harsh as she growled, "It's too much to place on another person. I should be able to carry my own burdens without help. Everybody else seems more than capable of doing it on their own." His fingers curled under the collar of her robe and he slowly began sliding it over her shoulders as he quietly responded, "If that's what they're actually saying, then they're bullshitting you." He traced a finger tenderly along her forehead, brushing a wisp of hair out of her eyes as he continued, "Let me help you. Trust me." The fleece robe slid a little further down her arms, revealing intricate black inkwork on her shoulders and back. She frowned as she looked up at him, asking, "Who are you? Why are you doing this? Why the fuck should you care?" "Do you remember several years ago, when you called for me?" His eyes seemed to change color for a moment, becoming a little sharper before going back to normal. She blinked at the display and stammered, "Excuse me?" "Well...it took me a while to find you." A strange sadness filled his eyes as he quietly added, "I'm so very sorry that I wasn't able to be here sooner for you." Her expression became critical as she took a good, long look at him. She had to admit that there was something very familiar about him, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. He paused, as if trying to recall something before saying, "You named me back then. You called me Gabriel." Her eyes widened with disbelief and she took a step away from him as her jaw dropped. It had been a little under seven years, if she remembered correctly. That's when the visions had begun. It all flooded back into memory, the vividness of the entire experience. It had all felt so real; at least until she'd woken up. Then he'd started visiting her when she was still awake. She'd always found it odd that she'd never been able to clearly make out the face of the man that her mind had constructed for such intricate fantasies. Could this really be him? She'd been waiting for somebody that matched the man in her thoughts for so long that she found herself wanting badly to believe him. As if reading her mind, he nodded, his grin returning as he quietly answered, "I've wanted to be with you as much as you've wanted me to." His voice dropped an octave as he tenderly traced the lines of her collarbones under her skin. "I still do." Her eyes fluttered shut at the feel of his hands on her and she let out a shaking sigh. When she opened them again, his grin was gone, replaced by a look of such intensity that she swooned. His voice sounded different now, husky and commanding as he looked down at her. "Take the robe off." She was beyond rational thought at this point. The robe fell open, sliding down her arms to land in a soft pile at her feet. Her hair contrasted beautifully against her skin, spilling over her shoulders and down her back. She'd always been self conscious about her body, positive that it was hideous in its imperfection, and so she'd spent hours at the gym trying to shape it and mold it into something that she wasn't repulsed by. Contrary to her own opinion of herself, her curves were soft and round in all the right places, her pale skin seeming to glow in the low light of the room. Her body was decorated with intricate tribal patterns of black ink, and he gave a soft sigh as he drank her appearance in. His voice came out in a low rumble that sent a delicious ripple of sensation through her. "Stand up straight." She immediately responded, rolling her shoulders back. He smiled, nodding as he purred, "Much better. Your tits stand up so much nicer that way." She felt herself flushing at the compliment. He took a step towards her, placing firm hands on her hips and turning her to face the four post bed behind her. It was constructed out of black wrought iron with a canopy of black fabric draped over the sides in a thick curtain that blocked out most of the light so that she was able to sleep during the day if she needed to, due to her night job. She felt him lean into her, his cock thick and warm beneath the swell of his jeans as he pressed her ass back into him and nipped gently at the back of her neck. Her knees buckled and he held her steady, his voice sending her flying as he brushed his lips against her ear and breathed, "Put your hands over your head. Grab the post." She quickly complied, her breath coming in hitches and little moans as she wrapped her fingers around the metal of the black frame, her knuckles brushing against the fabric of the inner curtain. His hands burned where they touched her as they slowly slid up her torso to cup the round globes of her breasts. She cried out as he squeezed, roughly pinching her nipples and biting down on the sensitive tissue of the nape of her neck. A low growl echoed out of his throat, matched with a loud moan of her own as he began sliding a hand down her stomach to gently tug at the soft nap of fur at her groin. She rocked her head back, her mouth a perfect O as he let his fingers wander lower. Suddenly, he gripped the slick, curly hair, pulling sharply on it as a guttural moan fell from her lips. She was startled at how wet she'd become in such a short time, completely lost in the sensations he was forcing on her. Gabriel His fingers probed lower, sliding along her slick sex to find the nub of her clit; stroking it in slow, languorous circles. She jerked as if shocked, moaning loudly, an almost catlike mewling sound as she shook in his grip. He was touching her just enough to keep her right on the edge and it was all she could do to remain standing. He chuckled darkly behind her, his voice a rough growl as his fingers again gripped and pulled sharply on the patch of fur between her legs. "Would you like me to fuck you?" She trembled, unable to respond. She was certain that she'd entirely lost the capacity to speak. He jerked harder, causing her to cry out, her breath now coming in ragged gasps. "Answer me." He began to pull away from her, his tone becoming chiding as he continued, "Or would you rather I stop?" "NO!" She yelled, startled at the sound of her voice as it rang out loudly in the confines of the small room. She hadn't meant to yell. "P-please...d-don't..." He pulled away a little further, his tone firm as he asked, "Please what?" "Don't stop....don't stop...don't ever stop touching me...please..." Her voice quavered and cracked as she tried to lean back into him and she drew a sharp intake of air as he slapped her soundly on the ass, growling, "Stay where you are. I don't remember saying that you could move." She felt the heat under her skin where he'd spanked her and she found herself hoping that he'd slap her other cheek to balance the effect. As if in response to her desire, she felt the hot sting of another slap, this time on the other side as he growled, "Spread your legs." She obeyed, trembling with the effort of holding herself upright. She felt his hand gently stroke the soft skin of her buttocks and cried out when he slapped her again, this time harder. Another slap and she shuddered, a guttural lowing sound echoing out of her throat. He grinned with satisfaction as he slid his hand lower, dipping between her legs to find her sweet spot more than ready for him. He sighed as he began slowly circling her clit, enjoying the way she cried out, her body arching and shaking as his movements became more deliberate, faster. Her breath was now coming in short, ragged gasps, her moans high and frenzied as he brought her dancing along the edge. His tone was harsh as he grated, "You're not allowed to come yet." She wasn't entirely sure how she could stop the process, but wanted so badly to please him. She tried to control her breathing, and found it nigh impossible as he continued making slow, delicious circles with his fingers again. "Please...," she begged, her tone pleading as she tried desperately to keep herself from crashing over the edge. "Please?" he purred, wanting her to ask for it. To *beg* for it. She whimpered softly, her body filled with a white hot tide of fire that flared along her nerve endings in pulse after delicious pulse. She was rapidly reaching the point of no return. "God, please just let me...let me come...," she mewled. His voice was a low growl as he breathed, "Come for me." He quickened his pace and she shrieked as the tremors rolled through her, a wave of overpowering sensation nearly bringing her to her knees. He held her as she shook, his breath quick and fast as she struggled to remain standing. He nuzzled the spot just behind her ear, enjoying the nap of her shorn hair as it tickled his lips. "Good girl." he breathed, kissing her ear and pulling away from her to rid himself of his now entirely too constrictive clothing. He began pulling the tank top over his head, tossing it off to the side as he kicked off his boots and reached down to unzip his jeans. His cock sprung free, jerking in time with his heartbeat as he slid the pants the rest of the way down his legs and kicked them behind him. He looked over at her, delighted that she was still shaking from her orgasm, her hands white knuckling the post as her body trembled. The sounds of her whimpers as she waited for him to touch her again were music to his ears. "Turn around and face me." He commanded, pleased when she eagerly complied. Her eyes widened at the sight of his naked body, and that low clenching in her belly was back again as her gaze followed the trail of black hair down his torso to his attentive member. With a sigh, she dropped to her knees and looked up at him as he cupped her chin in his hand. Unbidden, she reached out and gently encircled his shaft with her fingers, slowly stroking it as she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around him. His breath came out in a loud hiss as she took him into her mouth, moaning as she slid her tongue against his glans. Cupping the rest of him in her hand, she placed her other hand on his hip and began slowly sliding back and forth, taking her time and thoroughly enjoying the taste of him. His hands trembled as he held her head gently between them, his head rocking back as he moaned loudly. She was bringing him to the edge too quickly and he stopped her, wanting instead to fuck her until she was no longer capable of rational speech. He could see the hurt expression enter her eyes as she slowly pulled away from him, and she asked, "Did I...?" He cut her off with a look, shaking his head and saying, "Don't speak unless I prompt you to." She nodded silently and he said. "Get to your feet." She quickly rose, looking up at him with an expectant expression. "I'll ask again. Would you like me to fuck you?", he asked, his gaze sharp as he looked into her eyes. Her voice rushed out in a breathy whisper as she stood across from him. "Yes...please..." He smiled, cocking an eyebrow, his tone impatient as he asked, "Yes? Yes what?" Her cheeks flushed and she raised her voice, answering, "Please fuck me..." She paused a moment, before adding, "Sir." His lips curled into a wicked grin as he walked over to a chair and purred, "Come to me." She gave a trembling sigh, then slowly padded over to him, wondering what he would have her do next. She was startled at how quickly she'd become so thoroughly submissive to him. It both frightened and excited the hell out of her. He was definitely a natural top and she thrilled silently at the thought as he sat down and settled back into an armless chair, taking her hand and pulling her towards him. Her breath caught in her throat as she moved to straddle him. He grabbed her hips, effortlessly raising her up and slowly sliding her down over his cock, sighing as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and slowly rocked back to take all of him in. A shaky moan shuddered through her as he pressed his hips up into her, growling, "Ride me." She leaned into him, slowly rocking her hips as her breasts gently grazed his chest. He watched her eyes slide shut as her movements became faster, her head lolling to one side as a series of soft moans began spilling from her lips. Her head dipped forward and her hair tickled as it swayed back and forth against his chest hair. He took a shaky breath as he watched her skin glow with a pink sheen as her movements became more eager. She rode him like a pro, drowning in the sensation of his cock inside her. She was magnificent; everything he'd hoped she'd be. As he felt himself being pushed closer to his limit, his hands closed around her breasts, squeezing gently at first until she growled, "HARDER." He gripped them firmly in each hand, digging his fingers into the tender flesh and she went wild, crying out as her skin became slick with sweat. His fingers moved down to her nipples, pinching them roughly and pulling them taut. Her head rocked back and she yowled, her body jerking as he pumped up into her. They clung to each other as they rode over together, his voice building to a howl as his orgasm tore through him in a hot rush. She collapsed against him, her breathing ragged in his ear as he fought to get air into his lungs as well. He wrapped strong arms around her, pulling her close and holding her tightly as her body twitched around his cock, milking him dry. After a few moments, she pulled away from him, her expression one of awe as he looked up at her. His breathing now a little more under control, he presented her with a wicked grin and rumbled, "And you were thinking about not letting me in..." Gabriel The horror I feel is indescribable. The words ooze from him like pestilent slugs; dripping from lips that are cracked and broken. Each one is more deadly than the last, telling a story of pain and depravation so deep and so painful that I can hardly bear to hear it. But I must. If it is so hard to hear how much more difficult must it have been to live? I grip more tightly, the hand that trembles in my own and, much as I want to run, I stay; much as I want to cover my ears, I listen; as much as I want to close my eyes I keep them steady, fixed on the ravaged beauty before me. As the words slowly degrade to incoherency I let go of the hand and take the heaving body into my arms. Tears soak into my shirt and sobs shake the frame that was once to strong and now feels frail, strangely empty. I want to cry too, because my heart is breaking. But now I must be the strong one. I must be the one who bears in silence, in respect, in honour. Suddenly he pulls away and stares into my eyes, gripping my arms with strength I didn't know he still had. "You do believe me Jake? You do, don't you? You do believe?" He is desperate and I don't blame him. He has lived with scorn and disbelief for so long. So many people have dismissed him, choosing to believe easy lies. We live in a small community and there is always someone ready to point the finger. In recent times all the fingers have been pointing in one direction. "Of course I believe you. I was there wasn't I? I was there. I saw." "You... were? You... did?" His eyes are wide, surprised, shocked even. "Don't you remember?" He shakes his head and winces. It hurt. I'm sure that everything must hurt; it looks as if it does. "I was there. I've always been there." And I have, almost. I was there when his dad beat him. It was my home he came to and my mother who rubbed salve on his wounds and eventually called Social Services. I was there when his foster father abused and then raped him. I was there when he and his brother ran away from foster care and it was me he came to; me who helped them find shelter at a local squat, me who babysat his brother while he went to work, wondering what kind of job paid so well for only a few hours work. But I hadn't been there when the other members of the squat thought it was funny to get him high and then take turns at him while his brother watched. I hadn't been there when he held his brother while he sobbed and shook with fear because they had told him he would be next. I wasn't there when he turned his first tricks in desperation to buy them off. I hadn't been there when his tricks abused him, drugged him, and hurt him. I hadn't been there when the police picked him up for hustling then forced him to 'please them' in return for not arresting him and leaving his brother alone and vulnerable. He'd looked like an angel then; with hair as golden as sunshine and beautiful cornflower blue eyes. He was the golden boy, the bright flame always burning, always blazing, blessing everything he touched. The angel Gabriel. He's not an angel now, except perhaps a fallen one. Now it is my turn to wince. Yes, I was there, at the last. Last night I was there, but it was too little, too late. At the time I thought I was a knight in shining armour rushing in to save my friend but all I did was almost get us both killed and it was Gabriel, again, who saved us – but at what cost? I barely recognise him. In the last few weeks he's gone downhill fast. Thinking back it has been coming for months. He has been losing weight and condition, his eyes getting bigger as his face got more and more sallow and sunken. I had no way of knowing it was because he was starving and desperate, because the corrupt police officers had been forcing him to work for them and, after giving them their cut and paying off the would be tormentors of his brother, he didn't have enough to feed them both and so he starved; barely managing to stay alive from what he could find in bins and scrounge from friends. Not that he had many friends left. The whole community knew what he was; what he did, but none of them cared why. He was dirty and unkempt because his clothes were hanging off him and he was too depressed and exhausted to take care of himself. He didn't go to school anymore. He'd been to my house for dinner fairly regularly. I think my mother saw what was happening even if I didn't. She always had a soft spot for him and always made sure that when he came to us he was well fed and had a long bath which always transformed him. Perhaps that's why I never saw it, because he was more his old self when he was with me. He never stayed over though because he had to be back at the squat to make sure Michael was safe. Very occasionally he brought Michael with him and he added to the image because when he was with his brother, Gabriel still lit up. He was very protective. He lived for Mikey. There is very little of his old self left now. His eyes are dull and his face is ravaged by starvation, exhaustion and abuse. He's lost so much weight he feels insubstantial in my arms. I can see every rib and hollow far too easily. He used to be so big and strong, always the protector. That was his one great fault... he had to protect everyone; everyone but himself. How Social Services have not got involved I really don't know. I will never understand. Okay, Gabe was seventeen when he ran away, and an adult now, but Mikey is still only fourteen. God knows how he did it but his experiences in foster care made him prepared to fight tooth and claw to keep Social Services away from Mikey. He would have died for Mikey, he almost did; maybe he will. I look into his eyes and he blinks slowly and heavily. I can't look away. They may be dull eyes but they are still beautiful; he is still beautiful. There is nothing in his dazed expression that suggests he's aware of it or that it would have mattered if he was. I feel strange. It's been a long time since I have been this close to him. He stopped coming to see me weeks ago. Gabriel frowns as if he is trying to remember something; his eyes darkening. "I don't remember... What happened? I don't..." "It's alright, Gabe. They said it was normal for you not to remember. You remember before that so it's okay. Probably just as well." The frown deepens and he blinks again, then sighs and closes his eye, slipping from my arms to sink back onto the pillows. "Gabe?" For a moment he doesn't answer than he opens his eyes and manages a weak smile. "I feel like I got hit by a train." "Huh. Not quite." He is giving me a very direct look and I feel very uncomfortable. "I remember... you. Did you save me?" For a moment the urge is almost irresistible but I have never been able to lie to him. "Nah. I tried to; I really did, but I messed up and you ended up saving me... again." "I did?" He looks startled, surprised and confused. "Fuck man, you were amazing. I was crapping myself and you were so cool, so controlled. I was scared of you myself." His eyes brightened, infected by my excitement. "What did I do?" "You only fucking shot him. He never thought you would. Fuck, we both thought you were dead. You wiped the smug look off his face right enough." "I did WHAT?" He is staring at me open mouthed and I can't help but grin. This time he grins back. "Don't you remember anything?" He shrugs. "Not much; kind of vague bits and pieces. I don't remember shooting Blackwell though; not at all. You'd think I'd remember that." "You were pretty banged up by then." Memories surface unbidden. Blackwell slamming Gabriel's head into the concrete floor again and again until he was lying in a pool of blood. Gabe, his hand shaking but strong, holding the guy, his face a terrifying mask of blood, dirt and pain. Gabe lying in my arms, bleeding and cold. At that moment I had truly believed he was dead and it was hours before I allowed myself to believe that he wasn't, in fact, either dead or dying. It was a long, lonely, scary night and even now I'm not wholly convinced. "But I really shot him? I shot the bastard? Is he dead?" "Unlikely. You shot him in the leg." "Oh. Shame." He sounds disappointed and, apart from everything, I have to laugh. "Who gives a fuck about him anyway? He's going down. It's over, Gabriel; it's over; you're safe." He gives me a long hard stare – very long; very hard. "Safe?" He sighs deeply and seems to relax. He eyelids flutter than snap open. "Mikey. Who's protecting Mikey?" "Easy dude, he's fine. He's with my mother. He's here, downstairs." Gabe relaxes again. "You won't... won't let him... let anything happen...?" "Not a chance." The exhaustion is overcoming him. I can see it rolling over him. His body is trembling and he is struggling to keep his eyes open. After what has happened I am frankly surprised he managed consciousness at all so soon... and all that emotion he spewed exhausted me, let alone him. "Maybe you should get some rest now. You're a complete wreck. You look awful." He smiles and there is a hint of the old sparkle in his eyes. He glances around then looks up, surprised. "Where am I?" "You took your time asking." "I had other things on my mind." "I guess so. You're at the Royal." "How long?" "Only last night. Not even one day." He looks even more surprised. "I feel like I've been here for a week." He raises his hand to his head and feels the stiff white bandage. "What happened to my head?" "Blackwell whacked it on the floor before he..." I can't say it. I just can't get the words out. I can't say it. Gabe can. I was so shocked by how calm he was when he said them. Not being believed, he gets upset about, Mikey he freaks out over; but being raped... that just doesn't seem to affect him anymore. Maybe it's happened too many times and he's numb to it. Maybe every time he was forced to sell his body for food and safety it had felt like being raped so that now it had taken on a twisted normality in his battered mind. "He hurt you, Gabe. He hurt you and made me watch. I thought... I was afraid... I think he thought you were dead. I did too. You were so still and there was so much blood." He looks a little queasy but manages a smile. "Nah, wasn't it you who was telling me just the other day how hard headed I am?" "I didn't realise at the time how glad I would be about that." "You will take care of Mikey, won't you? Just for a couple of days, until I'm out of here." "Of course we will. He's safe, Gabe. You're both safe." He looks unconvinced but nods and then... then he just seems to fade, his smile freezing and then slipping away as his eyes roll shut. For a moment I am thrown into a complete panic and I make a total fool of myself calling a nurse to be told firmly that he is just sleeping and I had better not wake him or I'd be thrown out. It's at this point my mother arrives with a surprise. "Mrs. Freeman?" "Hello, Jake." "What are you doing here?" Despite trying, I can't keep the bitterness out of my voice. Her face clouds and then her eyes snap. "He is my son, Jake." "Shame you didn't remember that when he really needed you; when his dad beat him, and worse; when he came to you for help and you wouldn't believe him. You never believed him. No one believed him. He..." I am cut off by 'Jake', coming from three throats; two which contain censure and one only pain. I focus on Mikey and mumble apologies. Mikey is almost as pale as Gabriel and has had a permanently shocked expression on his face since my mother picked him up on the way to the hospital. He is very like Gabriel in many ways. He is younger by four years but just as tall, and even broader than Gabe. He does sports. He plays football and rugby, an unheard of combination, and he's good at both. Gabe is more into things like kick boxing and ninjitsu. He is never going to be a master but it saved us both last night and I prefer his leaner, more athletic physique. Mikey likes to work out, to spend time at the gym and spends a lot of time at the sports centre. He still has no idea why he has been able to continue to do that; what it has taken to keep him safe and stable; what it has cost. Mikey's eyes are the exact same shade as Gabe's and they are filled with the same wondering innocence that used to shine from his brother's. It has taken a lot to kill that, a hell of a lot. I smile at Mikey but he doesn't smile back. Instead, he walks past me and stands at the side of the bed and looks down. His mother, looking nervous, goes to his side and puts her hand on his arm. He shakes it off, without taking his eyes from Gabe's face even for a moment. There is an unreadable expression on his face. Turning my eyes from him, I let them run over Gabriel's face. It's been a long time since I've seen him this relaxed. I want to touch him and maybe if there had been no one else there I would have. One side of his face is disfigured by an ugly bruise and his lip is split and sore looking. I want to kiss it better, but it's going to take a lot more than a kiss to do that. "It was for me wasn't it?" Mikey's words are soft but they practically make me jump out of my skin." "What?" "What he did... what everyone is saying about him; he did it for me didn't he? To keep me safe." "Mikey he... he... he did what he had to do... what he thought he had to do." "He thinks I don't know." His words are still soft and, as he speaks he reaches for his brother's hand, touching it only with the tips of his fingers. "God knows why but he thinks I don't remember what they did to him at the squat; what they said they were going to do to me. I haven't forgotten, they haven't let me forget." He swallows hard. "He doesn't know but... but they mocked us... both of us; not when Gabe was there but..." Even though his voice is perfectly level, tears run down his check and his fingers unconsciously stray to the place where the plastic tube goes into Gabe's arm, secured by a plaster that he picks with one nail. He's staring at it as if he's fascinated but I know he's not really seeing it. He's seeing something a long way away. "They come to our room when Gabe isn't there; only three of them. The others are okay, some of them quite nice; but those three." He shivers. "They are the top dogs, the ones who run the house. They call me princess and him worse. They told me what he was doing and why. They called him a whore, and said that it was no more than a dirty faggot like him deserves." His eyes flick up to me and are like daggers even though his expression is still mild. What does he know? "I'm sorry, Mikey. I didn't know. If I had known I would have..." "Would have what? Saved me? Saved us? But you did known, didn't you? You knew that Gabe was... was having sex with... with men for money." Hell, what can I say to that? There's nothing I can say to that. "Yes, I knew. Not at first, not for a long time, but in the end, yes, I knew." "You're his best friend. Why didn't you do something? Why didn't you stop him?" Good question. Why didn't I? I wanted to. I hated it, knowing what he was doing, what he was dealing with but the truth is... the truth is... "I was scared. I... I didn't know; not really know although, looking back I suppose that was only because I didn't want to. Whatever... I didn't actually 'know' until Blackwell got involved and then I was really scared; we both were. He would have killed him. Look what happened in the end... he almost did." "Gabriel's crazy, you know? He thinks he hid it from me, shielded me. For fuck sake... did he think I wouldn't hear it in school? Everyone knew. Everyone had something to say, and it was never anything good. They... they tried pushing me around but I got into a couple of fights and came off better so they left me alone after that... just comments and jokes and talking about... about him in loud voices. "If only they'd known. If only anyone had known. Did you know? Did you know that they didn't just... that they hurt him? They hurt him all the time. I took care of him. It was bad the last couple of months; every time; worse and worse. "Once... once I thought he was going to die but he wouldn't let me get help. He's so strong. He was bleeding and it wouldn't stop. I thought he was going to die. Then the fever came and I was sure he was going to die. But he didn't. And they wouldn't let him rest... they kept... they kept coming round and he made me leave. I don't... I don't think they did anything to him those times, but they were threatening him. I think they were... I think they were threatening that if he told anyone what was happening they would hurt me. I told him I could take care of myself but that's what Gabe's like. He has to be the protector, the one who takes care of me... and he did." Mikey looks up and glares at everyone. Tears spill down his cheek but the expression on his face is an angry one. "Gods, MIkey. I didn't know. He hasn't been around for weeks." "He couldn't; he's been too sick. I think that's why... that's why..." Finally his voice cracks and he crumbles. "That's why they took him." "They were going to kill him weren't they? Because he's not pretty anymore; because he's used up." "They were going to kill him, yes, but I don't think it was because of any of those things. I think Gabe was getting ready to quit. He called me on Friday afternoon. I was in school and then I went straight to the game. I didn't realise my phone was out of juice until I got home. When I put it on charge there were loads of missed calls from him and when I rang back it just went straight to answerphone. I think by the time I rang it was already too late; they had him. I think he was ringing for help because he wanted out and they knew it. If it wasn't for me he wouldn't have been in it in the first place. This is all my fault." "It wasn't your fault, Mikey. None of it was ever your fault." "Jake... was he...? I mean, I know why he did what he did. It was to survive, so that we could both survive but... but did he... I mean, did he...?" "No. He didn't. There was no part of him that enjoyed it, that wanted it. He hated every moment. When he... when he told me what Blackwell was doing he... he said that he hated himself, that every time was like being raped. He just... he did what he had to do... what he thought he had to do." Mrs. Freeman is sobbing quietly, hovering at Mikey's shoulder, her eyes flicking between her sons. My own mother puts her hand on my shoulder and when I look up I see that she has tears in her eyes too. "I wish you'd told me, Jake." I shrug. There's nothing more to say. "Does it mean...? Does it mean that he wasn't... that he isn't... gay?" Now there's the question. I haven't worked that one out for myself yet and it hasn't been for want of trying. "I don't know, Mikey. It isn't something that I've been able to ask him." "Why not? I mean, you've been best friends forever. You're closer than... as close as if... as if you were... you know... lovers. Why didn't you? I mean... I mean..." He looks at me, his eyes so much like Gabe's that my stomach turns over. My face is flaming and I turn away. "You're not are you? You and Gabe are not..." "Lovers?" I can't help but laugh and the bitterness in my voice will surely be misconstrued but I don't care. "No. It was never anything like that. Never. It was... it is... I am... nothing. I'm nothing but his friend." If only they knew how hard it was for me to say that. I have loved Gabriel for years, as long as I have known I'm gay. It's all been somewhat theoretical for me because there has never been anyone else. I have never kissed or... There was never room for anyone else; my heart was always too full of him. If he hadn't run away who knows what might have happened? But he did. Once the shit hit the fan so to speak, he needed a friend and that what I had to be. And then... when he came back he was too... damaged. Gabriel "I'm sorry, Jake. I didn't mean..." "It's okay, Mikey. That's the least of our worries." "So what happens now?" That's my mother, practical as ever. "What do you mean?" "You're not going back to that squat." "You can come home with me, Mikey. I would love to have you. Your father..." "My father?" He turned and practically spat in her face. "My father is the one who started all this. He was the one who drove us away in the first place." "Mikey, you don't understand Your father... he and Gabriel... They were always so... Gabriel provoked him, all the time. He..." "Don't you dare! Don't you dare defend him! He abused Gabe; he beat him, he hurt him. If I ever see him I'll..." "Mikey, that's enough! Your father loved Gabriel. He loves both of you. I've had enough of this nonsense." "Nonsense? What the fuck...?" My voice is rising and I am beyond caring what anyone else thinks or has to say. Mrs. Freeman has always stood up for her husband, always asserted that Gabriel made up most of the things; had lied and exaggerated. In my mind a good portion of what happened is down to her. What mother would let two of her sons walk away, to be cared for by other families, to entrust them to strangers... just because she believed the lies of the piece of filth who hurt them? Even if she didn't believe Gabe how could she possibly have chosen his father over the two of them in the end? As far as I am concerned the minute she did that she lost the right to call herself their mother. She has no right to be here. Fortunately, Gabriel must have heard or at least picked up the atmosphere because he moans and stirs and it's the only thing that could have got through to me. "Hush now, Jake. Leave it be." My mother's hand on my shoulder is meant to be comforting but it just makes me mad again. She knew. She saw. In a low voice, practically spitting, I said... "Why do you STILL keep up the pretence? Everyone knows... everyone here knows. Loved them? If he did he had a strange way of showing it... well to Gabriel at least." Without meaning to, my eyes flick to Mikey and he winces. "Don't pretend you didn't see." I hiss, glaring at her. "You must have. You MUST have." "See what?" Her voice drips ice. "What are you trying to imply?" "Imply? Imply?" I almost implode. "Mam... tell her, Mam. Tell her, you were THERE." "Calm down, Jake. Let's go downstairs and talk about this calmly. This really isn't the place." "Thank you, Mair, I know you're trying to help but these are my sons and I'll deal with it. As far as I'm concerned there is nothing to talk about. I've had enough of this nonsense; these vile allegations that have been bandied around for way too long. The truth is that Gabriel is out of control; he always was. His father tired to get some sense into him but he wouldn't take it. He's always been wayward and wilful and when his father tried to bring him into like he kicked back. "He was always in his face. Whatever John asked him to do, he'd refuse. He was arrogant and selfish and challenging. When John punished him he'd climb out of the window or just walk out the door. We were at our wits end." "And why was he like that? Where did he go when he walked out? He came to me. It was my mother who bathed the strap marks or put arnica on the bruises. She knows." "I don't know what you think you know, or anyone knows, but I do know that if Gabriel had been prepared to give him some slack, to have listened to him now and again..." "What? He wouldn't have been beaten quite so badly? He wouldn't have been... hurt?" "John never hurt him. Yes, he hit him, he had no choice, Gabriel wouldn't listen to anything else. But he didn't beat him. He didn't hurt him. Do you have any idea what those vicious lies have done to him? He's lost his job, his friends have turned on him. He's depressed and..." "Depressed? Forgive me if I don't weep for him." "That's enough, Jake. You have always been a bad influence. You backed him up in his stupid ideas and if it hadn't been for you he would never have gone off the rails in the first place." "So this is my fault now? God you're a piece of work. Do you ever accept responsibility for anything?" "Jake, that's enough," my mother says softly. "Think of Gabriel." I am about to open my mouth but I do think of Gabe and so I shut it again. "Whatever may have happened in the past this is now and I am not going to have my son going back to the terrible place. Mikey is coming home with me." "Mikey is coming home? What about Gabriel? He's your son too." "He may be my son but it is not something I am proud to admit. I'm not having him in my house and..." "I'm not coming home, Mam, not without Gabe; not while 'he's' there." "God, you're as bad as he is. You were my beautiful little boy; my angel. What changed?" "Everything changed. You let them take me away." "I didn't, Mikey; I swear I didn't. I tried everything to keep you but Gabriel was saying those terrible things and the police believed him. Your father was charged with assault, Mikey. He almost went to prison." "He should have rotted in jail for what he did." "Oh, God, Mikey, not you... not you too? He's infected you with his sickness. Your father never assaulted him, never. He wouldn't do that. He loved him. He loves you both. He would never have hurt Gabriel. Everything he did was for his own good." "Really?" The soft voice startles us all and everyone turns to look at Gabriel. His eyes are shining very brightly and the old spark that used to live there is kindled again. "For my own good? Was that what it was? When he came into my room at night and told me that the things he did were 'special' and 'just for the two of us' that was for my own good. I never knew. And when that wasn't enough for him anymore and he started raping me; that was for my own good? Good for what? Teaching me how to keep my mouth shut when some sweaty old man rams his cock up my arse? Well thanks Dad, you taught me that one well." "Gabriel! How... how dare you? How...?" "I think it's best if you leave." "I'm taking Mikey with me." "I'm not going anywhere with you." "Then where do you think you are going to go? Back to that squat? Not while I have breath in my body. Social Services are going to hear about this and they'll..." "They'll what? Drag me away kicking and screaming? Throw me in prison? Hunt me down? Because that is what they are going to have to do if they try and take me away from Gabriel or put me anywhere near you." "Do you think that ANYONE is going to let you be within a mile of your brother now? There is no way they are going to place a decent boy with that... whore." "Don't talk about Gabriel like that." I know it's bad timing but there is no way I can keep my mouth shut. "Keep out of this, Jake." "It's okay, Jake," Mikey says softly. "I don't care what she or anyone else says. If she really wants to push me then I can give up school and go on the run for the next four years. There will always be a squat waiting for me. If people wanted Gabe then they'll want me too. I can hold my own..." "No!" three voices echoed. Two of them stopped in surprise. The other continued. "I did not go through all this to protect you to have you throw it all away. You will NOT do that. You will stay at school, go to college, get a degree and make a life for yourself. I don't care how or where as long as you're okay." "I'm not leaving you, Gabe." "If that what it takes. I've done everything I can for you Mikey. I... I'm beat. I can't... I can't... I can't fight anymore." "You don't have to, Gabe. I'll take care of you now. I can..." "No. You can't. You're not old enough. You have to finish school." "I don't want to..." "I don't care what you want. You will do it." "As much as I don't want to admit it, Gabriel is completely right. You do need to finish school. Come home with me and..." "I think you misunderstand, Mother," Gabriel says, his voice dripping scorn. "Mikey will finish school but over my dead body will he do it while living with you and that man. Mrs. Candy, can Mikey stay with you until Social Services can fix him up with somewhere permanent?" "Mikey can stay with us for as long as he wants; both of you can." "Don't you dare try to take my children away from me!" A buzzer sounds and makes us all jump. Gabriel is stone faced. He looks tired but resolute. When a nurse appears he tries to smile. "Can you ask her to leave please? She's making my head hurt." "Don't you dare! I'm your mother. Don't you dare have me removed!" The nurse is very firm and despite her complaints she is quickly and efficiently bustled out. "I'll take Mikey down to the canteen," my mother says diplomatically. "I think you need some peace and quiet and this one," she ruffles his hair even though he's a foot taller than her, "needs food." "I don't want to..." "I know you don't but you're going to. Don't worry, Gabriel isn't going anywhere. He'll be here when you get back." The smile that Gabriel gives my mother is beautiful. When we are alone I sit down on the hard chair and stare at Gabe's hand, while he stares at the ceiling. "It's all fucked up," he says in a flat voice. "Yeah." "I thought it was doing the right thing. God was I a fool?" "You weren't a fool," I say fiercely. "You're the great protector. That's the way you're hardwired. You have to protect everyone. It's what you do. Don't think we're not grateful but could you please now start to protect yourself?" "I don't know how." "Tell you what... why don't you let me protect you for a while?" "You? You couldn't protect a cat." "I do my best." He looks up and gives me a piercing look. "Promise you'll take care of Mikey." "I don't need to. You can look after him yourself." "As if. No one is going to let a used up whore take care of a fourteen year old kid." "Don't you dare. Don't you dare talk about yourself like that." "Why not? It's true." "It's not true. Whatever you did, that's not who or what you are." He sneers. "What am I then? Seeing as you know me so well, you tell me who and what I am. I'm damned if I know." "Who are you? You're who you always were; my best friend. What are you? You're... you're..." I turn my eyes away. I came so close. I can't. Not now. I can't. Gabriel sighs. "You see? You can't say it; can't even look me in the eyes. I'm a whore, pure and simple. I used to be a normal person, full of hopes and dreams. Even when he was... even when I was at home I still had my dreams; I still had you. The crazy thing is that even when I was at the squat; even when all that was going on I still had hope. Crazy." "And now?" "Now? Now I'm too tired to hope anymore. I can't see anything in my future except a black hole." He sighs deeply. "I'm too tired, Jake. I'm too tired to go on any more. I just want to stop. I want to..." "No, you don't." I'm scared; terrified of what he's saying and what he's not saying. "You don't want to stop. You can't. It's been hell; I know it's been hell. I wish I'd been there. Oh god I wish I'd been there. I feel so guilty for letting you go through all that alone." "Guilty? You? What the hell do you have to be guilty about? You've given me more than anyone else in the world has ever given me. You've been a far better friend to me than I ever was to you." "Do you think? You were the golden boy, the angel and I was your shadow. I basked in your glory." I was only half teasing and he only half laughed. "Golden angel? Hardly. Maybe I was once; I was told that, but... the angel died a long time ago." "Died? Are you crazy? How can you possibly say that the angel's dead when he's sitting right in front of me?" "Don't Jake, please." He drops his head and started picking at the bed sheet. "Don't what?" "Don't lie to make me feel better. Nothing is going to make me feel better, trust me. I know the score. I used to be beautiful, once; I'm anything but now. I'm hollow, used up, just a shell." "No. You're not." I have no idea what I'm doing and it might be the worst thing I have ever done; or it might be the best thing I have ever done. I know he isn't going to spit in my face for it so what do I have to lose? I reach out and take his hand. He looks up at me, surprised. "You're beautiful, Gabe: you always were and you always will be. You've been through hell and I should have been there with you but I wasn't. I was there last night though. I found you and I thought I was saving you but I almost got us both killed. You saved me. You saved me, again. You've spent half our lives saving me. Okay, you were usually the one who got us into trouble in the first place but I was ready enough to follow and I was always saved. "You make me laugh; you make me cry; you scare me; you comfort me. I trust you more than I have ever trusted anyone. I rely on you more than I have ever relied on anyone. I need you more than I have ever needed anyone. I love you... I..." I stutter to a stop and Gabriel stares at me, his eyes wide, his lips forming and O of surprise. "I um... I... have to go." I try to get up but Gabriel holds on to my hand and won't let me go. He doesn't say a word. He just stares at me. "Gabe, please, I..." "Don't." His voice is... strange. Everything about him is strange. I stop trying to pull away. "I'm sorry." He ignores me. "Do you really think I'm beautiful? Even now?" "To me you are." "Really?" "Really. Even more than before." "Now you're being stupid." He lets go of my hand and turns away. "Don't mock me." "I'm not mocking you, Gabriel. You were always more to me than the golden angel everyone saw on the outside. That didn't really matter. The thing that really blew me away was the beautiful person you were on the inside... and you still are." Gabriel looks at me and frowns. "Are you serious?" "Do you have any idea how scared I am? Why the hell would I do this if I wasn't being serious." "Scared?" "You're beautiful, Gabriel, but sometimes you can be really stupid." He smiles, a strange smile. "No, not really. I know what you're saying; I just really need to hear you say it." "Say what?" I gulp and feel the colour draining from my face. He grabs my hand again and I know he can feel me shaking. "That I love you? That I've always loved you; always? That even when you weren't around; especially when you weren't around, you were always on my mind? That last night when that fucker was hurting you; when I thought he'd killed you I felt that my world ended and I was angry, so fucking angry... because it hadn't been me. What more can I say?" He is staring at me as if he doesn't really believe I'm here, let alone the things I'm saying. He shakes his head. "Nothing. Nothing more." "So...?" "So what?" "What now? Do you... Do you hate me?" Gabriel starts to laugh. He laughs so hard that he has to let go of my hand to hold himself. The nurse comes in but when she sees that he is laughing she pats my shoulder, smiles and leaves. After a while I get concerned, confused, and then a little offended. Is it really that funny that I should love him? "Is it really that funny?" "What?" he sputters. "Is it that funny... that I love you? I'm glad that you're laughing, that you find it funny but forgive me if I don't." "You don't?" "I've lived with this for ten years. I've watched you every day, saw you grow, turn into a golden angel and have everyone fall at your feet. I've been there, in your footsteps, worshipping you, torturing myself every night. Promising myself that the next day for better or worse I would end the agony by telling you. Every time you came to me when you were in trouble I imagined myself as your knight in shining armour and convinced myself that one day you'd see me like that too and then I could tell you. "When you weren't here I thought about you all the time, kicked myself because I wasn't there with you, that I hadn't told you and might never get the chance." "Why didn't you? When I came back and you knew... why didn't you tell me?" "I thought that you needed a friend and not more complications." He nods. "You're probably right." "So...?" "So what can I say? What could I possibly say to that? I remember you there... always. I remember thinking when things were bad that everything would be alright because you were there. I remember lying in bed after... after... and wanting to end it, to die right there and then... but I didn't because I knew that in the morning I'd get up and go to school and you'd be there. All my life... you were there. I didn't love you." Oh how four words can hurt so much? I try to pull away but he won't let me. "I didn't love you because... 'He' said he loved me when he... and I didn't think of you like that. I loved Mikie and I certainly didn't think of you like that. I didn't think of you at all; you were just... there. You were... are; part of me; the same. How can you love part of yourself? But..." He takes his hand away from mine and raises both of them to his head. I want to reach out to him but I'm frozen because I don't know what he's saying. "When... when I was... being... used... I got through it... The only way I got through it was by pretending it was you. When I was alone in the night I talked to you and when I cried I imagined your arms around me. You are the only person in my life I have ever completely trusted, felt completely safe with. "You were always there... always. Do I love you? I don't know. I don't know what love is anymore. Love. Sex. Love. Sex. I don't know the difference anymore." "There's a difference. Trust me, there's a HUGE difference. Give it a try and you'll see for yourself. Money back guarantee." Gabriel looks scared to death. "What if I hurt you? What if I let you in and then I hurt you?" "What if I hurt you? What if we both drop dead tomorrow? What if...? Who gives a fuck about what if? The fact is that we won't know unless we try." My heart is pounding so hard it hurts. This is more than I could ever have dreamed of and it's scaring the hell out of me. "Look, things are not going to be easy. There's a whole load of shit around the corner and you're going to need to fight... if only for Mikey. I don't want you to do it alone. I want to be there with you, holding your hand. I want to take you in my arms and protect you and make everything alright for you. "I want to take care of you, Gabriel. I want to take care of you until you're strong again. I want to shield you from the spite and pettiness and when things are sorted I want to take you away from it all and start again somewhere new where no one knows us. I want to spend the rest of my life with you." I lean forward taking his hand again and squeezing it. "I'm not asking for any declarations of true love, or commitment, or even sex. I'm happy to be with you and I don't want anything more." "I couldn't ask you to do that." "You didn't ask." "What if..." "Shut the fuck up about what if's. I couldn't give a shit about them. Just tell me... Do you want to be with me? Do you want to give us a try?" "Us?" "Yeah, us." He looks at me, biting his lip. Then he smiles, his beautiful golden smile. "Yeah. Us."