by T. A. Webb
Surprised u hvnt been out to tail me. Don’t <3 me anymore?
Grinning, his thumbs worked fast. Oh, are u gone somewhere? Wondered why it was so quiet.
Fuck u old man. I’ll give u quiet.
Only when I gag u.
Promises, promises. I owe u one. Tie U down big man.
Anytime.
Nothing yet. Found out one guy moved to FL. Confirmed. No one seen Gabe in weeks.
Stay safe. Text me in an hour.
Go back to work old man. Home soon. Expect u naked.
Already am.
Damn. Hands off until I get there.
Yes sir.
<3 U.
<3 U.
Marcus put his phone down, his heart calm. Now he was ready to read the results.
Opening the first entry, he was relieved to see that his brother was still living in the Metro Atlanta area, if his most recent driver’s license was correct. In fact, he was only a few miles away from where Marcus lived. He had to shut down his feelings about it and focus on the facts as he began to piece his brother’s life together.
No criminal convictions, no arrests, not even a traffic ticket. God, he didn’t remember Frankie being such a squeaky clean guy. If anything, Marcus was always cleaning up messes after his little brother. The six year age difference didn’t matter to either of them, ever. In fact, it seemed to spur Frankie on to try bigger and more dangerous things to fill his big brother’s shoes, or outshine him, or something. It was fine as long as it was about school and grades—if Marcus got an A, Frankie had to one up him and get an A+ from whatever teacher he figured they shared.
It was even cool when his little brother went after his records on the field at North Decatur High. Marcus led the football team to the state championship game, getting a school record with forty touchdowns his senior season. Frankie’s junior season, he threw for forty-five TDs and won the state title, and even repeated it his senior year. And no one was happier than Marcus, who sat front row and cheered louder than anyone in the stadium.
Frankie was his best man at his wedding to Vanessa, and when Marcus went to the academy, his little brother surprised the whole family by enlisting as a marine after his graduation from high school. When Marcus refused his mother’s plea to talk him out of joining the service, the first cracks in the once-sound Prater family foundation were exposed. How funny, he thought, that his mom and dad threw it back in his face when he divorced Vanessa and came out as gay to them, thanking God that his brother wasn’t there to see his shame. To be witness to his fall from grace. How they threatened to throw Frankie out of the family like they had Marcus if he didn’t let them tell his brother their version of the truth, and made him swear to never talk to his sibling again.
No amount of talking or begging would change their minds, and with Frankie stationed in the Middle East during Desert Storm, no way in hell was he going to cause any distraction that might distract the only person on the planet he loved unconditionally from doing his job. If Frankie ever got wounded or, God forbid, died because he was worried about something his parents or Marcus got him involved in, something that could wait until Frankie was on home soil and safe, Marcus would have walked into traffic and ended it.
No, instead, he let his parents send him a letter filled with hate and lies, and he ignored the frantic response back to him, begging for more information and for Marcus to deny everything he was told. Instead, he sent two sentences to his brother: I’m not worth it, kid. Forget about me.
He never heard back from Frankie again.
Now, searching through data and facts, he wondered how he could have ever been so cruel, so heartless. Frankie deserved the truth, even then. The kid was smart, and while Jeremy, and now Benjamin, filled his heart and soul with so much love and care, there was an ache, a hole in his chest that no one could ever fill.
Wick, Chance, Zack, and Archer. They were the brothers he chose, the men that made him proud to be part of a family again.
But the Frankie-sized part of his life would never be filled.
Marcus stared at the screen, not registering what was there for long moments. His phone dinged again, bringing his thoughts back to the present, and he was surprised to find almost-dry tears on his face. Sentimental fool, he chided himself. He checked his phone, and wasn’t surprised to see it was from Wick.
Going to the farm Sat to see Hellboy. Want to come with?
He waited a long moment, tapping his fingers against his temple. He was never an accomplished horseman, but the one time he and Benjamin joined Wick and his Mini-me, it was well worth it to see how much Benjamin loved the stables and horses. Maybe it would be the perfect ending to the week they had going—Benjamin searching for Nick, and Marcus tracking down Frankie, they would need to turn their brains off, he was sure.
Only if u 2 hold hands and sing kumbaya.
Fuck u, asshole. Better kumbaya than Endless Love. Which 1 of you grew the vagina?
Ned coming?
I hate u.
A long moment passed, then Marcus’s phone buzzed again. So u coming?
Yes. Wont even mention how cute u 2 are together.
Who, me n ned? Or Hellboy?
Yes.
Fuck. U. Be ready at 7. Wick out.
Chuckling, Marcus turned back to the screen. And froze.
No. Fucking. Way.
He clicked the link, and there it was. The legal wedding dissolution papers for Francis and Vanessa Prater. His ex-wife Vanessa. And his brother.
Oh, Frankie, what did you do?
*
Being away from the streets, just these few months, was…a revelation. Ben looked back on his life this year, before he met Marcus, and cringed at its paucity. He’d had school and turning tricks to make ends meet, and that was it. God, it was all black and white and gray. No color, no love, no Marcus. As he went down Ponce and North Avenues, talking to the guys who worked the corners and alleyways, he shuddered, then fought the urge to try to talk, persuade, beg these kids to find something else to do with their lives. To try to convince them that there was another way and yes, it got better.
How hollow it sounded to his own ears.
Not everyone got a miracle in their lives. A real life hero like Marcus.
So it was no surprise when his reappearance was met with indifference at first, then curiosity, then a cross between anger and fear and, in the boys’ eyes, whether they knew it or not, hope. Most would talk with him, and he was able to rule out another disappearance, which left him with just one on Jeremiah’s list of missing guys. And then there was Nick.
Ben had to keep reminding himself it was Gabe. Nick was his friend, Gabe was the street-wise rent boy that seemed to have helped every damn one of these boys out at one point or another. They might not trust him, but when he was asked if any of them had seen or heard from Gabe, to a one they showed concern and offered to ask their contacts for any news of the young man.
A new kid was working the alleyway Ben called home, so he took a chance and approached the boy. And boy this one was—couldn’t be a day over sixteen or seventeen. He had the lean, hungry look that would draw in all the predators, and Ben had no doubts some sleazy fucker would have him hooked on something and using him for something much worse than the streets. He closed his eyes for a moment, sighed, then walked up to the boy.
“Hey, man, what’s up tonight?”
The kid eyed him suspiciously, taking in the jeans, the wifebeater, and made a quick decision—Ben could see it in his eyes. Ben moved to box the kid in the alleyway, knowing the back of the opening was closed off with no escape except up. And the fire escapes were rusty and untrustworthy. He hated to see the fear on the boy’s face, but he just had to teach him at least a small lesson. When he had him where he wanted him, just inside the alley, he eased his stance.
“Easy, buddy. I just want to talk to you for a minute. Okay?”
The kid tensed, his eyes darting from side to side. “What the hell do you want to tal
k about? Get the hell out of my way, man. I…I’ve got a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.” The boy stuck a hand in his skin tight jeans, his voice cracking.
Ben had to smile. There was no room for a roll of Lifesavers, much less a gun, in the kid’s pants. “Yeah, you got me shakin’ in my boots here, kid. Now, let’s try this again. My name is Ben, and I worked this corner up until a couple of months ago. I’m looking for a friend of mine, name of Gabe. You know him? Or heard of him?”
“Dark hair? Kind of skinny, but hot? Old, like you?”
Ben gaped. “Old? Fuck, kid, I’m twenty-five, not fifty. But yeah, that’s him. You seen him?” Ben’s hopes flared, and he relaxed. Just in time to see the kid dart by him on the right and dance off into the street. Ben turned, but kept his distance. “Look, kid—what’s your name?”
Eyeing Ben warily, he kept his distance, but answered. “Travis.”
“Travis. Please, kid, have you seen Gabe? I’m worried about him…he’s a friend and he’s missing. Nobody’s seen him for weeks, and I just want to know he’s okay.”
Travis was thoughtful, then appeared to make a decision. “Yeah, okay. I met him right after I got off at the Greyhound station. He fed me and warned me off a lot of things. Took me to one of the shelters. But you know how those are. The streets are safer.” Ben nodded, knowing that some of the predators targeted young kids at the shelters, knowing they didn’t have family or friends, or money. “But I haven’t seen him in about, maybe, two months. He was watching out for me a little. Kinda reminded me of my brother, before…”
Ben waited a moment. “Before you came out?”
“Yeah. Then they all stopped caring.” Travis held his spine straight as a rod, trying not to allow any of the pain rolling off him like waves to show. It was all Ben could do to grab the kid in a hug, but he knew that would send him off into the night and he’d never find him again. He had to play this just right.
“So, Gabe. You haven’t seen him or heard from him since then.” When Travis nodded, Ben gave him a smile. “Good enough. Anything I can do for you? Gabe’s a friend, and if you are a pal of his, you’re one of mine too.”
Travis was shaking his head before the words were completely out of Ben’s mouth. “No, I’m good. I got a few bucks. The weather’s not bad, so I’m good to sleep in the park.”
Ben raised a hand, gave a quick wave and started walking back down Ponce. “You take care. If you need anything, ask around. I’m Ben. Word will get to me.” He glanced back once, seeing Travis still standing in the street.
When he reached the corner, he pulled out his phone and hit speed dial. “Wick? Ben here.”
“Hey, kid. Finally dumping the geezer and upgrading?”
Ben almost choked. “You two are the same age, and Marcus would kick your ass if he heard you. Now, shut up, you hyper-hormoned horndog and listen. There’s a kid working the alleyway I used to on Ponce. Name’s Travis. He’s maybe eighteen. In two years. Do me a favor and use your magic woo-woo powers and make sure this kid is safe. I’d take it as a personal favor.”
There was a pause. “Done. You owe me one.”
“Anything. Just make sure Travis is okay.”
“Now, Benjamin, Marcus would kill us both.”
“One of these days, Wick, I want to hear the story about how you two met. And what you did.”
“Babe, I value my balls too much to do that. Ask your man.”
“I will. And Wick?”
“Yeah?”
“My name is Ben, to you.”
He heard the surprised laughter before he cut the connection. Wick would deliver, he knew. He had a heart, and the way to it was through his ribcage most days. But give him a case with a kid in danger, and the man would stop the moon in its orbit to make sure he was safe.
Now, it was late. He was tired. And Marcus owed him.
Smiling, he headed back to his car, whistling a Lionel Ritchie tune all the way. Damn Marcus and his classic pop shit anyway.
Chapter 3
Marcus heard the door to the condo open, and couldn’t bring himself to look up. He knew it was Benjamin, but his mind was a million miles away and it wasn’t until he felt strong hands on his shoulders, massaging out the knots of tension that he began to relax. Without a word, he dropped his head back, and soft lips trailed kisses from his neck up to his ears. “You’re mine now. Stop thinking about whatever it is that’s got you so tied up, and let me take care of you. Trust me?”
Marcus smiled gently and closed his eyes. “With everything I have.”
“Excellent.” Those wonderful, strong hands moved from his neck down his arms, and Marcus found himself wrapped in a hug. He sighed, and it seemed like all the tension rolled out of his body with the breath. “Come with me.”
Standing, Marcus was led down the hall into the master bedroom. He stood, a little bemused and a lot amused, while Benjamin moved around the room lighting a couple of candles and a cone of incense. He was stripped of his clothes and pushed gently back on the bed. Enjoying the feeling of being cared for, Marcus watched as Benjamin climbed on top of him. The feel of his naked skin rubbing against Benjamin’s jeans and shirt was…naughty. Decadent. He closed his eyes again, ceding control to his lover.
Barely noticing, Marcus felt his arms raised and his wrists held in one of Benjamin’s strong hands. He took a deep breath, fighting against his natural instinct to resist. The smooth rasp of what he knew had to be one of his silk ties—the same ones he’d been using on Benjamin, the thought of their tentative play bringing a moan to his lips—slid around his wrists as he was methodically tied to the big wooden slats of his headboard. He opened his mouth to say something, but his lover took his mouth with his own, swallowing his questions.
Marcus’s mind went fuzzy and Benjamin invaded him with his tongue, slowly at first, then with building passion. Sure, capable hands moved across his chest, fingers circling and pinching his nipples. He tried to reach for his man, to pull him closer but he was bound. The moans he heard—could those be coming from him? He drifted, tilting his head sideways when that demanding mouth released his lips and began licking long, slow stripes down his throat.
The sudden lifting of weight from his chest made him open his eyes, trying to figure out what was wrong. What he saw was Benjamin on his haunches, stripping his shirt over his head. His mouth went dry when he saw the man who owned his heart unzipping his jeans, then rising and sliding them down. He was commando, and it always excited him to see that smooth skin come into view. Marcus opened his mouth to say something, anything, when Benjamin shushed him. When he was nude, Benjamin went back to his haunches, sitting back on his heels and looking down at Marcus. He shook his head, grinning, then launched himself forward, grabbing Marcus’s shaft and swallowing him down to his thick bush.
Could anything be this good? Would he ever breathe again?
The pleasure shot through his body, and he bucked, trying to force more of his length into that hot, wet throat. Benjamin grabbed his hips and held him down, dragging his mouth up and exposing Marcus’s cock to the cool air. “Please,” he begged. “Benjamin, God, I can’t…”
“I know, love. Just lay there”—he paused to lick a bead of pre-come from the head of Marcus’s cock—“and relax. I have you. I’ll take care of you. Always. I promise, Marcus, I’ll always catch you. Just let go.”
With a breath that sounded like a sob, even to himself, Marcus nodded. “Love…I love you. Please, touch me.”
With a smile that made Marcus’s heart loosen and his worries melt away, Benjamin laid himself on top of Marcus, reaching between them to line up their cocks. Stroking them with the lightest of touches, he rolled his hips gently and nuzzled his mouth against Marcus’s neck. Scraping his teeth against his carotid artery, he bit down and sucked up a mark on Marcus’s neck. Then he moved lower, continuing to leave a string of marks against the rough skin of Marcus’s neck.
Panting, Marcus spread his legs, wrapping them around Benjamin’s hi
ps and drawing him closer. The friction was sublime, but it was not what he wanted. The haze was still there—pleasure, lust, care—but this was his Benjamin, and he wanted. He wanted to be loved. Surrounded. Filled.
He wanted to surrender.
“Benjamin…I need you.”
“I need you too, love. So very much.” He kissed his way down Marcus’s chest and licked a broad swath across his chest, stopping to suckle on a nipple. The light suction, combined with ever-so-gentle bites, made Marcus’s eyes roll back in his head.
He felt his breathing go shallow and fast. “No,” he whispered. “I…please, fuck me. Benjamin, love, please, fuck me.”
Laying one more kiss on the scar where Marcus had been shot, Benjamin look up into his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. And Benjamin?”
“Yes, love?” Benjamin shifted to the right, sliding a hand under his pillow and grabbing the bottle of lube they kept under it. Marcus watched him pop the top open and squeeze out a line across his palm before closing the lid and reaching down to stroke himself.
Marcus closed his eyes, and the color rose in his cheeks. “Take me hard. Make me feel it.”
He felt Benjamin move between his legs and grab his thighs, pushing them up to Marcus’s chest. He gently gripped his calves and pulled Marcus’s ankles over his shoulders. There was a pressure against his opening, and he waited.
“Marcus, open your eyes, baby.”
After a long moment, he did. The love he saw there…he couldn’t refuse this man anything. “I love you.”
Benjamin smiled back, then thrust forward, taking Marcus in one sure, long stroke.
Marcus groaned and fought against the tie holding him in place. Benjamin held him here, his face mere inches from Marcus’s, their eyes never leaving each other. “I promise, Marcus, I have you.” His voice was tight with tension, and Marcus was vaguely aware Benjamin was holding back.
He pushed his hips up as much as he could. “Do it, Benjamin, fuck me.”
That seemed to snap something in him, Marcus saw, and he felt the hard snap and thrust of Benjamin’s hips, filling him. God, it’s been so long…how did I live without this so long?
