When All the World Sleeps

by J. A. Rock

  He wished there was some way he could keep this up with Daniel without having to explain himself to anybody.

  “Went by your place last night,” Uncle Joe had said when Bel had turned up to work. “Didn’t see your car.”

  “I was out.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Uncle Joe had left it there.

  It was more than complicated. Even disregarding the fact that Daniel was a killer and Bel was a cop, it was complicated. Bel wanted to give Daniel what he needed, wanted to fuck him until neither of them could walk straight too, but what did Daniel really want?

  He wanted to be controlled. He wanted to be contained. He wanted Bel to make the rules.

  Bel turned off his computer. Time he headed back to work anyway, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t find the rules that Daniel needed on any website.

  * * *

  Daniel usually hated Wednesdays, because on Wednesdays he started work at four instead of five, which meant the staff was still in the library when he arrived. Usually he’d avoid them, but not today. Today Daniel went to work all but whistling.

  “What’s up with you?” Trixie asked. She seemed put off by his good mood.

  “Nothing. Nice day, is all.”

  “Well, some kid puked in the ladies’ room and didn’t make it into the toilet. People been complaining for half an hour. So have fun.”

  Daniel barely noticed the stink of the vomit as he cleaned it up. He thought about his intro to chem class in college and the time the professor had taught them about the chemistry of vomit. Vomit contained a lot of hydronium, and when a person vomited too much, they risked potassium and chloride depletion. Useless facts, but hey. Daniel missed school. Wouldn’t have minded going into a pharmacy program. Had thought about it a couple of years ago, but it was expensive. And with his condition, better to clean up vomit than be in charge of counting people’s pills. Less risky.

  He finally got the stall clean. Hell, now he was whistling.

  Funny how much difference it made in his life, just having Bel.

  Bel, who hadn’t run, even when Daniel kept waking him in the night with sleep terrors. Even when Daniel had showed him what was in the bag. When Daniel had told him about the piss can.

  Bel, who got that he was supposed to make the rules.

  Bel would be good at giving orders. He had the right voice for it. It would be fine with Daniel if Bel bossed him around a little. Told him how to sit or stand. Told him what to do in bed. It’d been so long since Daniel had fucked while awake, he wouldn’t’ve minded someone telling him how to do it. So long as Bel hurt him when he needed it.

  Only problem might be if Bel wanted his dick sucked. And of course he would—who wouldn’t? Still, Daniel could manage. If Bel ordered him to, he could.

  Kenny Cooper’s words were a hollow memory. Seemed like they shouldn’t have any power left, like all that should have drained away over the years. “Here’s my dick, faggot.”

  The edge of the barrel sliding between Daniel’s lips. Clicking against his teeth.

  “Suck it, cunt. I want you sucking it when you die.”

  Well, Daniel had showed him, right? Fucking showed him.

  No. Not today.

  Today, Daniel was happy. He was thinking about the chemistry of vomit. He was thinking about Bel. Wishing he could have at least gotten a look at Bel’s cock last night.

  But there was always tonight.

  He wondered what they’d do when Bel arrived. If they’d go right to bed, or if it was only going to be sometimes that Bel joined Daniel there. Only when Daniel woke up screaming, maybe.

  No. Bel liked him. Wanted to fuck him. And Daniel wanted to do more with Bel, even if he was a little nervous.

  The rules would help.

  Halfway through his shift, he started getting exhausted. At one point he slipped into the men’s room and sat on the toilet and closed his eyes for a minute.

  What are you doing? Can’t fall asleep here.

  He forced himself up and out of the bathroom.

  Shit, he had to be careful. Couldn’t let this buoyancy, this hope—Bel—make him reckless.

  By the time he was done, he could barely drive himself home. It was almost time for Bel to arrive, and he briefly considered flopping on the bed and catching a nap, counting on Bel to arrive before the point where Daniel would normally start sleepwalking.

  Instead he got out the seat cover he’d made for himself and put it on the armchair. It was a series of bottle caps glued—edges up—to a sheet of plywood. Sitting on it was a hell of an uncomfortable experience. But it was good for staying awake.

  He stripped his pants and underwear off and sat, wincing. Every time he shifted, a new edge dug into his skin. Eventually he found himself moving on purpose, trying to get the bottle caps to cut a little deeper. As he did, he thought about Bel. Bel’s voice in his ear, Bel’s breath on his skin.

  Daniel shivered as a frisson of pleasure skittered up his spine on the tail of the pain. It had been a real long time since that had happened. Not since the early days with Marcus, before he’d pushed Marcus to go harder and further. Before the pain he needed was so absolute that it drowned out any pleasure he was capable of feeling.

  He’d never found his subspace, though he’d tried to fake it a few times so that Marcus kept going. In the end, he’d ruined it for both of them.

  Daniel squeezed his eyes shut and ground down on the seat cover.

  Yelped.

  Fuck, that hurt. Pushed him right back into the waking world, away from his memories and his fantasies and the sleep that was still calling him.

  He breathed heavily. That was good.

  That’s what the pain was for.

  9

  Bel was anxious when he got to Daniel’s that night. Like his heart was gonna tumble out of his chest and go clattering across the floor like a windup toy.

  And Daniel barely gave him a chance to settle in before he asked, “You thought any more about what we talked about? About rules?” He sounded just as nervous as Bel felt.

  “Yeah. I went online. And I saw a lot of pictures that kinda freaked me out.”

  Daniel stood there for a second with a stunned, horrified expression Bel saw sometimes when he delivered bad news to families of perps or victims. “Oh.”

  God, no. Don’t look at me like that. I gotta be honest, or this ain’t gonna work.

  “And a couple that made me hard.”

  Daniel met his gaze.

  “I don’t know how to be a—be a dom,” Bel said, trying to keep his voice steady. Fuck, maybe he should have practiced this. “I don’t know shit about the equipment, or what I’m supposed to make you do. So if there’s anything you want, you gotta speak up and tell me. But otherwise, here’s the rules I came up with.”

  Daniel straightened.

  “Except for Thursday and Saturday, I’m on day shift. So except those days, I’ll come here at 9 p.m. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll expect you to be ready for bed.”

  Daniel’s what the fuck? look almost made Bel falter. But he kept going. “Hey, now. You’re the one who wanted rules. So you’ll be ready for bed when I get here—showered, teeth brushed, and in your pj’s.”

  “You want me to say my prayers, too?” Daniel asked flatly.

  Bel’s lips quirked briefly. “Maybe lose the attitude,” he suggested.

  Daniel stilled. Nodded.

  “You can let me in, and then I’ll expect you to kneel. Beside the bed.” Bel thought again of the pictures. “Hands behind your neck. You know how to do that?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.” Daniel’s tone was completely respectful now. He spoke quietly, and the “sir” pulled Bel’s body tight, made him swallow.

  “Show me.”

  Daniel went to his knees with a grace that surprised Bel. Bowed his head. Clasped his hands behind his neck. “Nice,” Bel said, as though nice even began to cover it. The s
ight of Daniel in that position made Bel half-hard.

  “You’ll wait for me to tell you what to do next.” And I won’t know what the fuck to tell you to do. But I reckon I’ll think of something. Shit, the things he wanted to ask Daniel to do . . . “Any questions?”

  Daniel kept his head down. “Guess not.”

  “I expect you to be ready for bed. All right? Each and every night I come here.”

  “Yes, sir,” Daniel said.

  This wasn’t so tough. Bel’s mouth was still a little dry, but he felt less tense. He did shit like this every day, telling belligerent drivers he’d better not catch them speeding again. Telling the high schoolers fighting in Harnee’s parking lot to lose the attitude. Giving orders came naturally to Bel, just . . .

  Was this what you did with someone you were hot for?

  Made sense to boss criminals around. Didn’t make as much sense to boss someone you liked. Reminded Bel a little too much of the domestic disputes he handled out at the trailer park. Always, at the root of it, was some asshole who wanted to be in control, who wanted to make other people feel small.

  I ain’t like that. Don’t wanna make him feel small. Want to make him . . . happy. I want to make him happy.

  Didn’t know if he’d ever seen Daniel Whitlock look happy. Even when they were kids.

  “I’d rather you call me Bel. But if you like ‘sir’ . . .”

  “I can call you Bel.”

  “During the day, you’re gonna stay healthy. No caffeine, no junk.”

  “I already do that.”

  “Good. Then it won’t be a problem.”

  “Guess not.”

  “There’s another thing.”

  Daniel glanced up, then quickly looked down again. Breaking position—Bel had read about that. He wondered if this was supposed to be a test. Was he supposed to call Daniel on it? Fuck, this dom stuff was hard.

  Speaking of hard . . . he had to get through this. Because what he really wanted to do was strip Daniel and explore his whole body with his mouth.

  “Yes, Bel?”

  “You’re gonna text me. Every day at 2:30 p.m. No matter where you are or what you’re doing. You’re gonna start your text, ‘Hi, Bel. It’s Daniel.’”

  “Aren’t you gonna know it’s me already?”

  “That ain’t the point.”

  “So the point’s to make me jump through hoops?”

  Definitely a test. Bel might be a BDSM novice, but he wasn’t a novice when it came to people. He’d dealt with plenty of sass from guys in handcuffs. Daniel Whitlock was nothing new.

  “Stand up,” he said.

  Now Daniel looked uncertain. He rose slowly, keeping his eyes mostly on the floor, except once when he flicked his gaze to Bel’s. He kept his hands on his neck.

  “Look at me.”

  Daniel looked at him.

  “Now say that again.”

  “Say . . .?”

  “What you just said to me.”

  “I said, ‘So the point’s to make me jump through hoops?’”

  Bel stared at him. Daniel gazed back, his defiance overshadowed by a nervousness that increased with each passing second. “You didn’t even let me finish,” Bel said. “I had something to explain to you, and you interrupted.”

  Bel didn’t say anything else. Another few seconds, and then Daniel said, “I’m sorry, sir. Bel, I mean.”

  Bel nodded. “All right. As I was saying. You text me. ‘Hi, Bel. It’s Daniel.’ And then you tell me one thing. ’Bout how you’re feeling or what you’re doing or whatever.”

  “That’s it? So I should tell you if I’m taking a shit? Or that I feel happy?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “These are weird rules, Bel.”

  “These are weird circumstances, Daniel.”

  Bel watched Daniel stifle a laugh.

  “And what if I don’t do what you say?”

  “Then we deal with it,” Bel said simply.

  “How?”

  Bel hadn’t really thought that part through. He didn’t know enough about Daniel to know what might be appropriate consequences for breaking the rules. “For me to know and you to find out.”

  Bel had a sinking feeling from Daniel’s look that he was going to try to find out as soon as possible. Bel couldn’t imagine using one of those paddles on Daniel. Or even his hand. Jesus, spanking was just . . . weird. And all right, maybe some of the pictures he’d seen of guys getting whipped had made him hot, but to actually think about doing that to another human being . . . Bel wasn’t ready to go there yet.

  “One other rule.” Bel wasn’t sure how Daniel was gonna react to this one, so he braced himself.

  “Yeah, Bel?”

  “You’re gonna go see a counselor. Someone Dav knows in Ladson. Once a week.”

  “What?” Daniel curled like he’d been hit or was gonna be sick.

  “Weekly appointments with a psychologist.”

  “For what?” He dropped his hands from his neck and stared at Bel. “What the fuck did I do?”

  “To help you.” Suddenly it was hard for Bel to remember the perfect rationale he’d had earlier. Daniel looked agitated. More than agitated—pissed. “You sort through some of the stuff that’s going on when you’re awake, and maybe it’ll help you sleep.”

  “What stuff? What do I need help for? You’re helping me.” Daniel took a step back. “You want to get me committed, too?”

  “I never said that.” Bel wanted to reach out and touch him, to reassure him, but he didn’t know if they were there yet. Shit. The guy had offered himself on a platter, and Bel didn’t know if they were there yet? He had a right, didn’t he? Had the right to make Daniel do whatever the fuck he wanted, to put up with any touch Bel chose to give him, because of this thing they were doing.

  Was that what Daniel wanted?

  “You scared of being committed, Daniel?”

  Daniel barked out a laugh. “’Course I fuckin’ am! What do you think?”

  I think you’d get to wear a straitjacket as often as you wanted.

  “Thought you liked being locked up,” Bel said. He showed Daniel his palms. “I ain’t trying to fuck with you, just trying to figure some things out.”

  Trying to figure you out.

  “Was in the hospital ward in jail for a while,” Daniel said, his voice wavering. “They put me on drugs. Didn’t make it better, just made it harder to tell the difference between awake and asleep. I started to see shit even when I wasn’t sleeping. I think maybe some other stuff happened.” He looked at the wall. “Told them what this other inmate did to me in the night, and they said I dreamed it. I don’t know.”

  “Come here,” Bel said. He held his arms open, and Daniel stepped forward, stepped into them and rested his head on Bel’s shoulder. “You ain’t crazy. I know that. But there’s no shame in talking to someone. You’ll do it, won’t you?”

  Daniel didn’t answer. His muscles went hard under Bel’s arms.

  Bel firmed his voice. “It’s a rule, Daniel.”

  “Okay.” Daniel’s breath was hot on Bel’s throat. “I’ll do it, so long as they don’t put me away. I gotta be safe, Bel. Gotta know what’s going on.”

  “I get that,” Bel said. He gripped Daniel by the shoulders and pushed him back gently. Needed to see his face. “I won’t do that to you. I’m trying to understand here, and I’m gonna need you to be patient with me, okay? Because I’ll ask dumb questions and I’ll say the wrong things, because I ain’t never done anything like this. You okay putting someone like me in charge here?”

  Daniel bit his lip and nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

  Bel allowed himself a smile. “Good, ’cause I’ve got a couple of ideas already.”

  Daniel looked half-terrified, half-delighted. “You do?”

  “Yeah.” Bel let go of his shoulders. “Why don’t you show me again how you kneel? Only this time I wanna see some skin.”

  Daniel stared at him. Was Bel supposed to
say something else?

  What do you want to see?

  “Take your shirt off.”

  Daniel reached around and grabbed his T-shirt by the back, then pulled it over his head and tossed it aside.

  Bel took a minute to admire Daniel’s chest. No rush here. Most of Daniel’s muscle was in his legs, from running. But his chest was well-defined, his torso lean and smooth.

  Bel wanted to see those runner’s legs, though.

  “Now your pants.”

  Daniel’s chest moved in and out. He bent, and Bel watched his arms flex as he unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down. Stepped out of them. Kicked them over to join the shirt.

  “You hard?” Bel asked, keeping his tone casual.

  Daniel laughed uncertainly. “What?”

  “You hard?” Bel repeated. “C’mere and let me feel.”

  Daniel stepped forward.

  “Put your hands behind your head, like you were doing earlier.”

  Daniel obeyed.

  Bel reached out and stroked the bulge in his underwear. “Not all the way, huh? You’ll get there.”

  Daniel tipped his head back as Bel continued stroking him. Shifted his weight once, then forced himself still. Bel could see what an effort it was for him not to move.

  “Kneel down, now.”

  Daniel went down onto his knees, looking almost relieved to break their contact.

  Bel wondered at that. Did he want to be touched or didn’t he? He probably didn’t know himself.

  “That’s good,” Bel said.

  Bel walked around behind him. He looked at the muscles bunching in Daniel’s shoulders and reached out to touch him. Daniel jerked as Bel swept a hand down his back. Bel made a shushing noise, gentling him like he was a skittish animal or something.

  A part of him missed sleeping Daniel—smiling, sluttish, up for anything. But a part of him knew he was getting what none of those assholes at Greenducks ever had: the real thing. That was worth working for. However much he wanted to kneel behind Daniel, rip those briefs off, and shove his cock into his ass, Bel wasn’t going to fuck this up. He couldn’t imagine that this was ever going to happen again—that some hot guy would ask Bel to take charge like this. It seemed like the sort of thing that would only come along once in a lifetime, so Bel wanted to take his time with it. Wanted to draw it out, see where it went.