by H M Wolfe
"In a bit, my king. I miss you, too," the blond sweetly purred, taking something from the nightstand and turning around to face his husband. "Here, time for your nightly tablets, round two. And before saying anything, no, you're not a burden, and I love you the same, tomorrow, always and forever."
"Well, am I not the luckiest man alive?" Daniel spoke in a low, smooth voice, as he shifted, laying on his back, not without effort. "You've taken care of me from the first moment the two of us met, my sweet, shy prince in shining armor. Your inner strength has left me in awe and made me ashamed of my weakness."
"Even before I met you, I dreamed of a tall, dark, and handsome stranger who would take care of my damaged, stained body and shattered soul. From the moment I saw you in Don Giuseppe's office, enraged and hurt, my heart no longer belonged to me." Tarquin climbed onto the bed and putting his head on his husband's chest.
"I love it when you do that." Daniel wrapped an arm around the blond's shoulders, bringing him closer. "It's such deep intimacy, feeling your hair on my skin, inhaling the scent of your favorite shampoo...I can't ever get enough of this."
"Same here," Tarquin's voice was dreamy, eyes half-closed. "Your body next to mine, your strong arms wrapped around me, the sense of safety when I'm with you, the sound of your heart beating only for our kids and me...I couldn't live without it, not even a single day...Gods of the Universe, I love you so much, Daniel Bloom-Ballard!"
"I love you to hell and back, Tarquin Bloom-Ballard." The raven-haired man rolled to one side, facing his husband. "I can't wait to recover fully, so I can prove it to you not only with my words but also by honoring you with my body. Just like I promised nine years ago," melancholy laced Daniel's voice when saying the last part.
"My king, we've already had this discussion with Maxine and Doctor Rayne." Tarquin gently ran his delicate hand up and down his husband's torso. "The only parts of your body you can't use are your legs; everything else works just fine. We could try it right now if you want." He smirked mischievously.
"Yeah, I think we could do that." Daniel winked, although the look in his sapphire-blue eyes was somewhat troubled. "Since all the kids are home, I suggest we keep our voices down, in the eventuality of..."
Tarquin silenced him with a kiss, a mere brush of his delicate, sinful lips over those of his husband. He then started to plant butterfly kisses all over the man's muscular torso, focusing on his chest and around his nipples. He swept the pink tip of his tongue over the sensitive, dusky buds, making them hard and perky, and turning Daniel into a moaning mess.
With the same mischievous smirk, Tarquin ignored his husband's pleading look and whimpers, as he trailed a path of wet kisses to the man's navel. Once there, the blond stopped for a moment, as if he was at a loss. Then started to nip at the tender skin, licking and kissing it over and over again, setting the whole area on fire.
Gradually, Daniel's cock started to react to his husband's skillful tongue and lips teasing at his navel, becoming harder and harder with each touch until it was almost fully erect. Tarquin's grin widened even more as he extended his hand and grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand, applying a liberal amount on his index finger, reaching behind himself and sliding it into his puckered entrance.
Under Daniel's hungry stare, the blond started to finger himself, adding another well-lubed digit after a while. Circling his hole, scissoring his fingers, his legs wide apart, exposing everything for his husband's viewing pleasure. Once he considered himself properly prepared, Tarquin lifted himself from the bed and straddled Daniel's waist.
Carefully, he lowered himself onto Daniel's cock, which stood proud and tall, begging for attention. Inch after inch, it disappeared inside the hot, tight, welcoming cavern, which started to pulsate around him. Eyes half-closed, and filled with lust and desire, the blond gave himself little time to adjust to the sensation of fullness. He then slowly started to move his hips, as slim as they were ten years ago.
Planting both hands on Daniel's well-sculpted chest, with his muscles dancing under the smooth, velvety skin, Tarquin moved slowly at first, but even he couldn't endure the sweet torture. Giving up to the urgency of becoming one with the person he loved, the blond picked up the pace, driving his partner to the edge of insanity.
As a well-deserved reward for the pleasure his husband was generously giving him, Daniel squirted a dollop of lube in his hand, spreading it on Tarquin's raging hard-on and started to stroke it in the same slow, torturous rhythm his husband had moved at first. As the blond's actions were taking him close to the edge, that he almost fell over, the raven-haired man increased the rhythm and frequency of the strokes. He was making his lover roll his eyes into the back of his head.
Daniel cried victoriously as his release flooded Tarquin's tight channel. Almost at the same time, the blond shot his hot load onto his husband's hard abdomen and torso, falling on top of him and then onto the bed, exhausted and happy, lost in the blissful state following his orgasm.
Tarquin rolled to one side, facing the love of his life, getting lost in those pools of deep blue, embracing him with his soul and mind. Everything was perfect, he thought, or it will be soon. Gaspard, the incubus with healing powers, had already started to work his magic on Daniel's injuries, strengthening not only his nerves but also his spirit.
Ever since he'd found out about his situation, the man had harbored a positive attitude. He was never complaining, doing everything the doctors and the healer told him to. Every time Tarquin looked in his husband's eyes, there was no bitterness there, only an immense love for him and sheer determination to regain the use of his legs. It will be alright, all of us will be just fine, the blond thought, draping the blankets around his and Daniel's forms.
The slight uneasiness Brennan felt when he climbed into the car that morning, with Lothier driving him to his new job, grew with each minute they got closer to their destination. He had a strange feeling that something important was going to happen, an event that was going to alter the course of his life.
For Brennan, changes were scary. The first one he experienced, the loss of his mother and stepfather, at the tender age of fourteen, threw him into the world, leaving him vulnerable and exposed to people's cruelty. Then, juvie and the lab of horror, which stripped the still-innocent kid of the last trace of humanity he had possessed, forcing him to turn into a predator, a beast ready to attack when provoked.
Last but not least, Mister B, or Fabian, as some of his associates called him, the man who'd ingrained in Brennan the belief that he was bad to the bone, a creature from that lab of hell, who only used and understood violence. Working for him as an assassin was the only thing he was good at, love and kindness were not only useless but also dangerous for those like him.
Lost in thought as he was, Brennan wasn't paying attention to where Lothier was taking him, until the familiar silhouette of the mansion appeared ahead of them, making him gasp in shock. He must have shown his surprise, because the driver smiled wickedly, turning to him.
"What's wrong, mister private investigator? You look as if you've seen a ghost. And I thought you were new to the city," Lothier's voice dripped with irony. "Or did you suddenly get cold feet?"
"No, it's just that you said I'm supposed to take care of someone with mobility problems, so I assumed this job would involve working in a nursing home or something along that line," Brennan improvised, hoping to sound credible.
"No, it's a private residence, and your patient is a man in his mid-thirties, strong enough to break your neck if you tried something funny," Lothier warned.
"What are you trying to insinuate? I would never take advantage of someone who can't defend himself, that's...that's revolting and disgusting. Who do you think I am?" Brennan's voice sounded somewhat pained, a hurt expression in his turquoise eyes.
"Good to know, there are a lot of teens and little kids in that house. If you only breathe in the wrong direction..." Lothier ended in a very suggestive manner, leaving the sentence unfi
nished.
But Brennan didn't answer, staring straight ahead, his usually red, sensual lips going pale, reduced to a thin line as he pressed them together. A monster, a creature of the devil, dead and rotten inside—all those things were thrown in Brennan's face, under different forms, but not even his tyrannical boss called him a child molester or, even worse, rapist. The young man didn't know if he should be angry or sad because of it.
The car passed through the gates, heading to the so familiar circular driveway. Two girls and a boy, of about the same age, were playing on a blanket. They were too absorbed in what they were doing to pay attention to the two men. The girls' eyes were shining with life and intelligence, but the boy was absently staring into space, manifesting little to no interest in what was happening around him.
"Hi, Lothier," one of the girls said, waving her little hand to the guard in a greeting gesture, "Will you come and play with us, pretty please? We need a third player because Elian doesn't feel well, and there's no one else around," she quietly asked.
"I'm sorry, honey, but I only came to drop off this young man here," The Base's chief of security answered, visibly disappointed. "With your uncle away, someone has to help Seymour, Landon, Luca, and the others to run things smoothly, so..."
"How about me playing with the two of you? Will that do?" An all too familiar voice made Brennan violently flinch and turn his head in its direction.
"Hi, Quinlan," he said in a thick voice, a radiant smile spreading all over his face. "How are you? I've missed you a great deal."
Chapter 11
"W ait a minute," Lothier exclaimed, puzzled. "Quinlan, do you know this guy? Have you seen him before?"
"Of course." The man's sapphire-blue eyes were shining with undisguised joy. "He's my muffin-loving friend. The one who lived in the abandoned shed on the outskirts of Daniel's property." He blinked innocently. "Brennan, right?"
"Yes, you're right." The one in question nodded, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around Quinlan's form and hug him tight to his chest. "How are you? Did Levy return from that mission? How does he get along with Bruno?"
"The two of us have to talk." Lothier grabbed Brennan by the arm, squeezing painfully. "How come you know so many things about this man when you claimed you were new in the city? And why did you hide from me that you lived in that shed? Is that why you were so surprised, shocked even?"
"Don't squeeze the poor boy like that. Otherwise, he won't be able to help Daniel around," a fragile blond spoke as he came out of the house. "Hello, nice to meet you. My name's Tarquin Ballard, your patient's husband. He waits for us in the grand salon, at his Zia Rosa's favorite spot. Please, excuse Lothier. He means well, but sometimes he doesn't know his own strength."
"Brennan McIntyre." The newcomer freed himself from the guard's grip, taking the blond's extended hand. "Nice to meet you, too, Mister Ballard, and don't worry, I'm not made of glass."
"He's my friend, the one I told you about," Quinlan intervened, "who was talking and listening to me for hours on end. You know, the guy who liked Auntie Willa's muffins."
"You're twice as welcome, then." Tarquin offered the newcomer another beautiful, bright smile. Come inside; Daniel will be happy to meet his cousin's best friend finally. Quinlan has a special place in everyone's hearts."
"Well, my job here is done. I better go on my way." Lothier turned to Tarquin. "Give my best regards to the boss, and tell him I'm sorry I can't stay longer. I'll be watching you, boy," the man hissed when he passed Brennan.
But the target of the guard's distrust decided to ignore him as he followed Tarquin into the house, with Quinlan and the quiet, little blond boy flanking him. While Quinlan barely contained his happiness and excitement, the child was examining Brennan from head to toe as carefully and detailed as he would have scanned him. From time to time, a frown creased his forehead, disappearing as suddenly as it appeared.
With Tarquin as a guide, the little group stepped in the grand salon, where Daniel was comfortably seated in a huge armchair, near a large window that offered a panoramic view over the back garden. His fathers and their partners were flanking him, two at each side, radiating love, kindness, and protectiveness. All of them greeted the men and the boy with benevolent smiles.
Daniel's features lightened at the sight of the small boy, and he opened his arms to welcome him, but for some unknown reason, the child scooted closer to Brennan, taking him by the hand.
"Hello, and, as my great-uncle used to say, welcome to my humble abode." Daniel extended a hand. "Until a few minutes ago, I wasn't so thrilled about your arrival here, but now my mind is radically changed."
"I understand the part about you, hating the idea of relying on someone else's help to move around, but what made you change your mind?" Brennan made no efforts to hide the curiosity in his voice.
"Elian likes you a lot," Daniel's answer came in a warm, tender voice. "Usually, he's very reserved in the presence of strangers, even runs and hides away for hours, but with you...Everybody loves him, but the only one he shows affection to is my cousin's husband. That being said, you are accepted into this house with open arms."
"Beautiful eyes," the little boy said in an emotionless voice, looking up to Brennan and raising his arms for the man to pick him up. "Turquoise. I like them," he sighed barely audibly, as the newcomer got the message, wrapping his arms around the tiny form.
"I've known Elian since the day he was born," Vincent spoke in a thick voice, "and, except for that one man, his hero, the little one has never manifested his affection so visibly for someone. You must have a pure and noble soul for him to react like that in your presence. I'm Vincent Grant, forever indebted to you."
"I'm delighted our son finally accepted he needs help, and chose you for this job," Sebastian also spoke tears of gratitude in his eyes. "I, my husband, and our partners will consider you part of our family from now on, and you'll have all the protection and privileges that come with it."
"You don't have to...I..." Brennan stuttered, but the little boy clung even more insistently to his shirt, then wrapped his tiny hands around his neck. "Okay, little one, I get the message." He started to rub the kid's back gently.
Meanwhile, Quinlan, who took a seat on the couch opposite Sebastian and Joraan's armchairs, he patted the spot next to him, beaming at his friend, who reluctantly sat on the couch's edge. The sound of tires on the driveway's gravel made all the men, except Brennan, turn their heads and smile, as three teens got out of a sports vehicle and stepped into the house.
For Fabian's employee, that day was one full of surprises, as the man recognized the two boys who'd nursed him when he got sick in the middle of the road. During his day and a half stay at The Base, he hadn't come across any of them and thought they were just passing by, although that sweet person Peyton seemed to know them very well.
However, the one who made Brennan gasp in surprise was the boy accompanying the twins. Petite, with a slender frame and a pair of incredibly beautiful, deep blue eyes, the teenager was harboring a sweet smile and everything about him speaking of innocence. But what shocked him the most was the boy's utterly white hair.
"Finally, you thought to pay a visit to your old Uncle Daniel," the master of the house joked, widely opening his arms to welcome the teens. "I missed you a lot, kids," he whispered into Cian's hair. "But where's Thorvald? Why didn't he come?"
"My boyfriend apologizes. He is busy mixing some herbs to create a tea blend for you." Lorcan blushed a little. "However, he'll come over later this afternoon, with Gaspard. Namir will also be here, and I know some kiddies who will jump with joy. We brought Jeroen instead, per your request." He gestured in the white-haired kid's direction.
"Nice to meet you, young fellow," Daniel spoke paternally, as he took the white-haired boy's hand and shook it lightly. "You have quite an interesting and uncommon name, who gave it to you? Was it your mother? Or your father? I'm asking because the founder of the Bloom family was also named Jeroen." He gave the kid
an encouraging, warm smile.
"I...I never knew the one who gave birth to me," the teen stuttered, staring ahead. "A man who says he's my guardian raised me but never told me anything about my family. I was eleven or twelve when I found out that I was the product of an experiment, and that a boy, who probably died, gave birth to me."
"What? A boy? Are you sure about this, son?" Daniel asked, shock and pain mixing in his voice. "Are you sure you heard that, right? Of course, you did," he corrected himself, smiling apologetically. "Did your guardian offer you any explanation?"
"No, he didn't, even if I kept asking," Jeroen offered the abridged version. There were too many men there; he didn't know who could be trusted and who couldn't. "However, last month, I had a fallout with him and decided to look for answers by myself. So I left the house where I was raised and lived on the streets for a while. Then, I heard about The Base, so here I am."
"You came to the right place, sweetie." Tarquin gently put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "We'll help you get to the bottom of this, as the beasts behind that lab are our sworn enemies. We thought the nightmare ended four years ago, but unfortunately, the experiments still go on somewhere. Anyway, this time, we'll wipe them away for good."
Four years before, Brennan thought, anger rising inside him like a raging wave of lava. So, good old Mr. B didn't save him; the bastard only took the then-teen from that horrible place to use him for his dirty work. Also, the fucker fed him a bunch of lies about the white-haired boy, and he couldn't stop wondering what else the bastard was hiding or distorting and why.
Brennan wasn't the only one affected by the kid's story. Listening to him, Daniel relived the horrible moments leading to him being impregnated with Gabriel. The pain, the shame, the helplessness, then the emptiness and devastation at the news that the baby didn't survive. And there were, of course, the most recent memories, the ones that were blurred, about him having a second baby.
