When All the World Sleeps

by J. A. Rock

  “Spent a long time on that website today,” he said, watching Daniel breathe.

  Daniel bowed his head. “Some of the stuff that freaked you out . . .”

  Bel tugged gently at a curl of hair on Daniel’s nape. He needed a haircut. “Yeah?”

  “I’ve probably done most of it,” Daniel whispered. “That matter to you?”

  “Wouldn’t be here if it did,” Bel said. “You really like it though? The stuff that hurt?”

  A beat. “Yeah.”

  Bel tugged harder on his hair. “You telling me the truth, or you telling me what you think I want to hear?”

  Daniel shifted slightly. “I like it when I’m too hurt to move, but I don’t get off on it if that’s what you mean.”

  Bel stared down at him. “There a middle ground with you, Daniel?”

  Daniel was silent for a while. “I don’t know.”

  That was okay. Bel cupped his hand over Daniel’s clasped fingers. “We’ll figure something out, I guess.”

  Daniel relaxed.

  Bel moved around in front of Daniel again and crossed the room to sit on the bed. Daniel darted an uneasy glance at him, and Bel smiled. “I want you to do something for me now, okay?”

  Daniel waited.

  “Want you to show me how you bring yourself off.”

  Daniel opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Been a while.”

  “It’s been a night,” Bel reminded him, watching the blush rise on Daniel’s face.

  “That was . . . that was you helping me,” Daniel whispered. “Telling me.”

  Bel glanced at Daniel’s briefs and saw the way his cock was still pushing against the fabric. “You’re hard enough. And I’m still telling you. C’mon now.”

  Jesus, it was excruciating to watch as Daniel slowly unhooked his hands from behind his neck. His left hand balled into a fist. His right hand slid under the elastic of his briefs, and cupped his cock. Bel wanted nothing more than to haul his ass onto the bed and touch every goddamn inch of him. But he also wanted to see this. To see Daniel do something that so obviously made him uncomfortable, just to see if he would.

  “Don’t hide it from me,” Bel said.

  Daniel nodded and shoved his briefs down. His cock rose, dark against the pale skin of his abdomen. He wrapped his fingers around it and started to stroke. Closed his eyes, frowning. Hating it maybe, but he didn’t stop.

  Fuck. If Bel knew nothing else about what they were doing here, he knew that one day he wanted to see Daniel do this with nothing on his face but pleasure.

  “That’s good, Daniel,” Bel said, shifting to ease the pressure on his own cock. “Real good.”

  Daniel sucked in a quick breath. He rubbed his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the moisture to the shaft. Kept working it, lifting his chin now.

  Bel wondered if he would open his eyes. Wondered if he ought to tell him to, or if that would break the spell.

  Something did.

  Bel heard it before Daniel did: the sound of an engine getting closer and the crunch of tires on dirt. Then the blare of a horn.

  “Stay there,” Bel said, as Daniel sprawled backward and tugged his briefs up. Bel headed for the window. He saw the glare of headlights around the edge of the canvas. Not just headlights, but spotlights too. The sort of array that Clayton McAllister had on his truck.

  And every second guy in town.

  The horn blared again, and Bel went to the door.

  “Don’t go out there!” Daniel said, his voice pitched high.

  Bel paused with his hand on the doorknob. “They ain’t gonna mess with me,” he said, and then realized he had no idea if that was true or not. If they saw him here like this, off duty, what would they see first? The cop or the fag? Didn’t matter. No way was he gonna hide inside the cabin.

  “Don’t! Let ’em have their fun and they’ll be on their way. Don’t make it worse.”

  Bel could hear whooping now, and laughing. They must’ve seen his car. Must’ve known Daniel wasn’t alone. He wondered if they knew the car was his, and if it would make any difference. Fuck it. He wasn’t a coward.

  “Bel!” Daniel was suddenly right beside him, holding his arm. “Don’t.”

  “Someone tried to burn this place down with you in it,” Bel reminded him.

  Daniel leaned against the door, flinching at the sound of smashing glass from outside. “Just a bottle, probably. Yeah, someone did, but they were quiet about it. This is probably just kids or something.”

  Bel thought about asking just how many people in Logan took the time to terrorize Daniel, then figured he really didn’t want to know.

  Please, Daniel mouthed. He reached out and caught Bel’s hands.

  It took everything Bel had not to push him out of the way.

  “I don’t want any more trouble,” Daniel whispered.

  Too bad. Trouble was already there. The floorboards underneath them vibrated as several sets of boots pounded up the steps onto the porch. Bel heard laughing and loud shushing noises. Daniel was probably right; probably just kids. Didn’t mean they had a right to do this sort of shit.

  When Bel was a kid, there’d been a man who lived on Gable. Creepy guy, lived all on his own. All the kids told stories about him and filled in the blanks with what was speculation one day and gospel truth the next. Made him a monster. They used to sneak by his house and watch the curtains twitch. The guy never came out through, which just proved it. Proved everything they ever made up about him. Bel wondered what it would be like to grow up and discover that you were that guy.

  There was a thunk. More stifled laughter. Somebody howled like a wolf.

  “That’s it.” Bel pushed Daniel gently to the side and threw open the door. Shoved the screen as hard as he could. It hit something. There was a shout, then footsteps pounding in the drive. Bel ran out of the cabin, stumbling on whatever the thing was. He glanced down. Eyes glinted. Ears like slabs of deli meat. A pink snout, a dark mouth half-open.

  A severed pig’s head.

  Fuck. Bel almost called to Daniel to stay back, not to come out. But he had to catch the culprits. He ran past the head and off the porch.

  “Outta here! Get the fuck out!” They were already in the truck, tires shooting gravel as they backed out. They nearly hit a clump of bushes, and Bel wished they had.

  The truck had to be Clayton’s. Looked like the one he’d seen on the highway that night he’d taken Daniel home from Greenducks. Bel ran after it as it pulled onto the road. He was trying for a glimpse of the license plate, a glimpse of the people inside.

  He couldn’t remember running this fast in a long time. He was no Daniel Whitlock, all long legs and easy grace. He could tackle a guy okay, but he wasn’t too quick. As the truck sped through an open patch of moonlight between the trees, Bel could see the driver had his arm out the window and was giving Bel the finger. Bel stopped, hands on his knees, and watched it disappear.

  * * *

  It was too dark to pick up all the broken glass, but Daniel dropped the biggest bits into a trash bag along with the pig’s head. He’d take it to the dump tomorrow morning, because he didn’t want it to stink the place up and there was no garbage collection this far out of town. He could hear Bel talking to someone on the phone, his voice low and tense, but didn’t know who he was talking to.

  Daniel dropped the trash bag on the ground. He glanced back at the cabin, but it was too dark to see what the graffiti said. He wouldn’t know until Bel came back with the flashlight. He figured it wouldn’t say anything too original anyway.

  Bel came striding back, pocketing his phone. “Don’t know if it was McAllister. I didn’t get a good look at them.” He glanced at the trash bag. “This sorta shit happen to you a lot?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” Daniel said.

  Bel flashed the light around, checking their cars. “Ain’t safe out here, Daniel.”

  “It’s safe enough.”

  Bel shone the light on t
he cabin. Yep. The words were about what Daniel expected. He was glad when Bel pulled the light away from them.

  “Get dressed and get in my car,” Bel said. “We ain’t sleeping here tonight.”

  Part of Daniel was relieved, didn’t want to argue. The other part of him panicked. “Where we going?”

  “My place.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Daniel.” Bel didn’t raise his voice, but his tone shut Daniel up. “Who’d you put in charge?”

  Daniel nodded. Went back into the cabin and put on his clothes. Grabbed Bel’s keys from the table beside the bed.

  He didn’t speak in the car. They passed downtown and headed east, finally pulling up to a small split-level.

  Bel’s house. Daniel had never given much thought to where Bel lived. He’d pictured Bel living in the house the Belmans had occupied when Daniel was growing up—half of a duplex near downtown. A birdbath on the front lawn.

  But Bel was an adult now, with his own lonely little house. Inside, decorations were spare—nothing on the walls but a calendar in the kitchen. The carpet was old and soft; the furniture all leather and wood in neutral tones. Bel gave Daniel a brief tour, then made coffee. Decaf.

  Bel took a long drink. “There’s some twisted fuckers in this town.”

  “Poor pig,” Daniel said.

  Bel didn’t answer. Daniel wondered what happened next. If they were gonna finish what they’d started back at the cabin. His cock had lost interest, but he bet he could get hard again for Bel.

  “How often does this happen?” Bel asked. “People coming to the cabin to bother you?”

  Daniel cupped his mug, feeling the warmth. “Not too much. Most people’d rather forget about me. Just once in a while . . . And maybe now because . . . because I saw Clayton that night . . .”

  “Saw the noose,” Bel said. “Night I tried to bring your keys back.”

  The night of the fire.

  Daniel felt a familiar rage starting in him.

  Fuck those animals.

  I want to fucking show them.

  Dangerous thoughts. Had to make himself quit.

  “Can I use your shower?” he asked. “I still smell like that pig.”

  “’Course.”

  By the time Daniel got out of the shower, smelling like Bel’s shampoo, Bel was in bed. Daniel’s mood had improved considerably. He was glad to be out of the cabin, in a new space. There were times these past few years he’d have given anything for the chance to sleep somewhere else, to be able to rent a motel room just for a night or two. But he’d never risked it. And now here he was, in an unfamiliar place that still felt safe.

  The bed had brown sheets and a dark-blue comforter. It was bigger than Daniel’s, queen-size, enough space for both of them. Bel had laid out sweatpants and a T-shirt for him. Daniel dressed self-consciously, keeping the towel around his waist. Bel didn’t say anything about it. Just patted the bed when Daniel was finished. Daniel climbed up next to him, and Bel held up the covers while Daniel eased himself under.

  Daniel leaned his head against Bel’s shoulder and waited for his breathing to match Bel’s.

  “What’s that?” he asked, nodding at a stack of papers on Bel’s nightstand.

  “A new addition to the manual at work. Policy about officers from other jurisdictions. We’re supposed to read it for the next meeting.”

  Daniel grinned. “Homework?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You read it in bed?”

  “Puts me to sleep faster’n anything.”

  Daniel’s grin broadened. “Well, that’s not right, Bel. You gotta take pride in your job.”

  Bel snagged the sheaf of papers, cleared his throat, and read: “When responding to an incident involving a police officer from another jurisdiction, the same procedures apply as those set out in Section V, paragraph B (1-3) of this policy. The on-site supervisor must notify the highest-ranking member of the department or the designee.” He glanced at Daniel. “You asleep yet?”

  “Almost.” Daniel nestled closer. “You got a nice voice.”

  “No I don’t. I sound like a hick.”

  “You still got a good voice.”

  Bel snorted. “We can’t all go to fancy colleges in the city. You talked just like me when you were in high school. Now you sound almost like a city boy.”

  “I tried to stop saying ‘ain’t’ in college. It comes out when I’m mad, though.” Daniel patted Bel’s shoulder. “Keep goin’. I like this.”

  “You’re crazy,” Bel said. Daniel didn’t even flinch. He knew Bel was teasing; knew Bel hadn’t even thought about his word choice. Bel looked back at the page and read some more.

  Daniel closed his eyes. He didn’t give a shit about the content, but he really did like Bel’s voice. He concentrated on the rhythm of it. Smiled whenever he heard Bel stumble over a word.

  Bel stopped.

  “Why’d you quit?” Daniel murmured.

  “’Cause it’s boring. And you can’t be enjoying it.”

  “Well, I am.”

  “If I’m gonna read, we can find something better than this.”

  “Maybe next time. This is good for now.”

  Daniel didn’t open his eyes, but he could feel Bel watching him. He sighed against Bel’s neck and felt the breath bounce back to his lips.

  “Didn’t know you were into bedtime stories, Whitlock.”

  Daniel laughed. “Didn’t know either.”

  Bel went back to reading. Daniel lost track of how long he read. Felt the hum of Bel’s voice through his body and Bel’s. Drifted, glad to be somewhere safe, unchained and unafraid. He was hazily aware of Bel putting the papers aside, turning off the light. Bel shifted down, pulled the covers over them and tucked the comforter tight around Daniel’s neck. He traced Daniel’s body until he located Daniel’s hand and twined their fingers.

  “Good night, Daniel,” Bel whispered.

  Daniel was too tired to answer with anything but a smile Bel probably couldn’t see in the dark.

  10

  Daniel should’ve known Ms. Davenport wouldn’t come right out and ask about therapy. She’d ask how things were going, and if he just said pretty good, she’d wait, busying herself with her notes, until he came up with something better.

  It still made him nervous that Ms. Davenport hadn’t just organized his therapy, but that she knew his therapist, John Frommer. They were friends, she’d said. Even though John assured Daniel everything about their sessions was confidential, Daniel sometimes imagined John gossiping to Ms. Davenport. That was why he was careful about what he told John. Especially if John asked about Kenny Cooper.

  So far he and John had mostly just talked about his job. And a little about his parents, of course. It was therapy.

  “John’s pretty nice,” he said to Ms. Davenport.

  She ticked something on the page she was working on. “I like the free tea in his waiting room, personally. You still mad you have to go?”

  Daniel flushed. “I wasn’t mad.”

  “Bel—Officer Belman—says I gotta see a therapist.” He’d told Ms. Davenport two weeks ago.

  Ms. Davenport had cocked her head. “He told me you were interested in seeing one.”

  “He’s a liar. I ain’t interested. But I’ll do it if it’s paid for.”

  He’d worried all last week that he’d somehow clued Ms. Davenport in to the kind of relationship he and Bel had by suggesting Bel was making him go to therapy. He didn’t want to tell her or John or anyone about the rules. Didn’t want to tell them Bel came over each night and made sure Daniel was safe. Read to him—not the police manual, but actual books—talked to him, played cards with him. Made him come. Drove him way out on 601 a couple of evenings last week, and they parked in the apple orchard and watched the moon rise.

  Now, on an impulse, he told Ms. Davenport, “It’s better than being locked up somewhere.”

  She set her papers down and met his gaze. “No one’s
going to lock you up if you don’t go. If seeing John’s not beneficial to you, you don’t have to do it.”

  “I know that.” He forced himself to continue. “But my parents, they want me to go off somewhere and get treated. They got together money and everything. And I’m just saying, I’d rather talk to John.”

  Ms. Davenport frowned. “Where do they want you to go?”

  “Don’t know. Away from here.”

  “I don’t think your parents realize how well you’re doing.”

  “’Course not. I never talk to them.” Then, to discourage any questioning in that direction, he said, “I painted the cabin this week. The outside.”

  “What color?” she asked him with a smile.

  “Just white. Took a few coats, but it looks good now. Got the windows fixed too.”

  “That’s good,” she said. “Keeping busy is good.”

  Daniel went for a run when he got home, then made dinner and watched some stupid movie on his computer. Tried not to be bummed that it was a night Bel worked.

  The nights Bel couldn’t stay over, they still had a routine. Bel had gotten Daniel a set of hospital restraints—big, soft cuffs that didn’t bruise his wrists or cut the skin. They had a long strap between them that threaded through the bedrails, so Daniel didn’t have to keep his hands above his head when he slept. He’d also brought Daniel a sleeping bag—lightweight and not too warm for the muggy fall nights, but still padded and comfortable. It was mummy style too, tapered at the legs and with a wide hood that extended from the top. The top of the bag had a drawstring. Once Daniel was inside, Bel would pull the string until the sleeping bag was snug around Daniel’s neck. Daniel liked being in the bag. The implications were less creepy than the straitjacket, and when he fell asleep he could almost believe it was Bel surrounding him. Almost.

  Bel usually arrived early on these nights, too, so that he and Daniel could play a little before he bound Daniel for the night and went to work.