“I thought you wanted me to be able to see,” Jere teased. “Going to be dark soon.”
Wren smiled, walking to the nightstand and pulling out a few candles. He hadn’t so much as warmed a cup of tea since his return; a part of him wondered if he had killed the fire inside of him forever. He risked glancing at Jere for a moment, relieved to see a patient, intrigued smile. Whether Jere knew it or not, that patience was more attractive than anything else Wren could have imagined at the moment. He cleared his mind of everything but Jere and fire, focusing his attention on the candlewick. In just seconds, it ignited, a clear yellow flame glowing at the tip.
“That will never stop being amazing to watch,” Jere admitted.
Wren felt a part of him shift back into place. The candlelight flickered in the room, making shadows dance and creating an eerie, sensual look. He lit a few more, placing them strategically around the room to make light. Then he took a few more and placed them on the bed, unlit.
“Guess what’s even more amazing,” Wren challenged, stripping his clothes off and coming to straddle Jere’s hips, smiling down at him.
“You?” Jere tried.
If it had been anyone but Jere, Wren would have accused the person of being insincere. Jere meant it, though, and it was as apparent from the look on his face and tone of his voice as it was through the mind connection. Wren blushed, adding more heat to their already steamy situation.
“I was thinking more along the lines of this,” he said, holding up an unlit candle.
He held it directly above Jere’s chest, where Jere could see it from the position Wren had left him in. Wren could easily hold it there, not having to strain or stretch at all, and he had a good view of it, as well as a good view of Jere’s face. As they watched, Wren slowly focused his energy again, holding the candle and thinking not of a flame, as he did when he was lighting the candles with his gift, but of the wax, and how it would melt in a flame; not catching fire, but just warming up enough to turn it to liquid. He concentrated for a few moments, and finally, he was rewarded with the sensation of warm wax dripping down his fingers and onto Jere’s chest.
Jere was silent, his mouth partway open, the edges curling into a smile.
Wren took that as encouragement, and he used the opportunity to focus his energy even more, heating the wax to a higher temperature before letting it drip down.
Jere gasped as the hot wax hit him this time. Wren drew the dripping line from side to side, making little zigzag patterns. He heated it a little more and dripped some onto Jere’s nipples, making him squirm and moan.
“You’re enjoying yourself?” Wren checked. He knew Jere well enough that he trusted Jere to tell him to stop if he needed a break, but it still made him feel better to check.
“Yes, so much! Don’t stop!”
Wren felt quite proud. He had taken control of his gift once more, and he had reduced Jere to near-speechlessness in just minutes. He continued to heat and drip the wax, paying special attention to the sensitive areas around Jere’s neck, his nipples, and then working his way down. Jere squirmed, moaned, and cried out as Wren played with the temperature, seeing just how much his lover could tolerate. There was certainly pain with some of the drops of wax, but more than anything, Jere seemed to be enjoying himself. Then again, Jere enjoyed pain in ways Wren would never understand, but loved to exploit.
Wren moved lower, covering Jere’s stomach and upper thighs, laughing as Jere first squirmed, then held completely still as Wren brought the stream of hot wax closer and closer to his cock.
“Be careful?” Jere whispered, and Wren smiled, imagining that it was the embodied voice of Jere’s cock saying the words.
Wren gave him a wicked smile. His eyes caught Jere’s, and as they did, he brought the wax closer and closer. Jere didn’t know it, but Wren was subtly lowering the temperature, waiting for it to be just perfect, and letting a large pool of it collect. He centered it over Jere’s cock and let it pour, smiling at the nervous and excited squeal that came from Jere in response.
“Shit, Wren, fuck, that feels so good!”
Wren smiled. He was pleased to realize that he had gotten the temperature right, after all. He was more concerned with it being too cool than too warm, but judging from Jere’s reaction, it was plenty warm enough to excite him. Wren would never do anything to risk putting Jere in actual danger.
As Jere continued to moan in enjoyment, Wren went ahead and covered his body in multiple colors and patterns of candle wax. He was pleased to see Jere’s cock harden, twitching the tiniest bit along with the rest of his body each time a fresh part of his body was touched by the wax. Here and there, Wren dragged his thumb over the wax, peeling it off of Jere’s leg, off of his stomach, off of his cock. The oil Jere was covered in made it much easier, and where it hadn’t hardened yet, Wren took an ice cube and froze it before peeling it off, sometimes only to replace it immediately with newer, hotter wax.
Eventually, Jere’s whimpers and pleas devolved into desperate begging to be fucked, and Wren was absolutely thrilled with that idea. He played with Jere a little more as he used his other hand to alternate between stroking Jere’s cock and playing with his ass, slipping in and out, using the oil for lube. Jere was quickly rocking against him, trying to take him deeper, making Wren slip up a few times and get candle wax in places he wasn’t intending, like Jere’s cheek.
Jere stuck his tongue out, licking at it. “Still feels good,” he announced, giving Wren a salacious wink. He licked along his lips as well, staring into Wren’s eyes in a needy, sexy way.
Wren couldn’t wait any longer. He slammed the hand that was holding the candle against Jere’s shoulder, squishing the warm wax against his skin, and he slammed his cock into Jere’s ass, thrilled as Jere let out a whimper when he tried to accommodate Wren so quickly.
“Wren,” Jere breathed, pulling tight at the restraints. He let out a strained gasp that was somewhere between pain and pleasure. “It burns.”
Wren had buried himself deep, but he forced himself to still instead of pounding in and out like he wanted to. “Too fast?” he asked, trying not to sound too disappointed.
“Harder,” Jere demanded. “Fuck me harder. I like the burn.”
Wren needed no further encouragement. He clutched at Jere’s shoulders with both hands and pounded in and out of him repeatedly, making Jere gasp and cry out with each energetic thrust. Jere did his best to match Wren at first, bucking and twisting and thrusting up to meet Wren, but Wren would have none of it. He pinned Jere more forcefully by his shoulders and increased the pace, fucking him at a speed no natural human should ever be able to obtain, until Jere finally stopped struggling and just lay there, a blissful expression on his face as Wren took his pleasure.
It wasn’t long after that Jere came, sending warm spurts of come between them. Wren smiled at the feeling, pleased to know just how much he had made Jere come undone. Jere trembled for a few seconds before going rather limp, breathing heavily and moving in time with Wren’s thrusts. Wren kept at it for a few more minutes, enjoying the lack of resistance he had from Jere, as well as the very sated expression on his face. He flicked a few bits of wax from Jere’s shoulders, making him twitch involuntarily, and that tiny movement set Wren off, making him come at the very reminder of the effect that he had on Jere.
Wren kept slowly thrusting, working himself in and out of Jere as he came, soon settling inside of his lover. He loved how close this made him feel to Jere, the way their bodies seemed to become one big mass of pleasure. He lay on top of him for a while, tracing his hand along the patterns he had made in the wax, working his lips over Jere’s skin.
After a few moments, he pulled out and slid off of Jere, who was still lying there peacefully and quietly, a contented look on his face.
“Want to get the cuffs and the wax off?” Wren suggested gently.
“If you want,” Jere mumbled, turning his head into the pillow. He seemed perfectly content to sleep cuffed to the bed
, covered in wax, but Wren doubted it would be comfortable after a few hours.
Wren uncuffed Jere’s hands and legs, wiped the come away with a towel, and began to carefully peel and chip away at the wax. He had done this to prove something to himself, and he had succeeded. His gift wasn’t crushed inside of him, his mind wasn’t destroyed—he had come back to exactly the life he had left. All it took was a few candles and the deep, enduring love of the most amazing man in the world. He noticed how Jere’s breathing slowed and steadied with each touch, and realized that Jere had fallen fast asleep. Wren decided that the rest could wait until morning. He crawled up into bed next to Jere and turned him so that Jere’s back was to him, placing all the wax on the other side. He put his arms around Jere and held him tight, pleased when he felt one of Jere’s hands come around his and squeeze.
“Thank you,” Jere whispered.
It was all he managed before falling asleep again, but it was plenty for Wren. A part of him thought that he should be the one thanking Jere, not just for bringing him home, but for being a part of feeling comfortable with himself again.
Chapter 33
Attack
With Wren back and the clinic opened for full business, things were getting back to normal. After they had finished up work at the clinic for the day and gotten dinner out of the way, they sat together in the dining room, playing a card game and conversing and teasing one another when the conversation got in the way of paying attention to the card game. They stuck to games of chance and luck instead of skill; Isis’s memory gift and Wren’s speed gift prevented most games of skill from being fair in any way, so simple games were much more fun for everyone involved.
Jere was in the middle of playing a card when he heard the startling, unmistakable sound of glass breaking, followed by yelling and jeering from outside. Isis screamed, and Wren was on his feet in seconds to investigate. Jere trailed behind, wishing he could move as quickly. When he reached the living room, he wished he hadn’t.
Situated at the front of the house, the living room had a big window that faced the front of the property, toward the main road where people approached the house and the clinic. When Jere first looked, he was confused as to how the curtains were blowing outside. It took him a minute to process the fact that there was a gaping hole in the window, the night wind pulling the curtains out through the hole. The sight sent a chill through Jere’s body. Unrecognizable yells and curses came through the open window, and the outlines of four or five people running and throwing more things were enough to fill him with terror. He could make out the phrase “slave-lover” and “outlander,” but not much else. He glanced at Wren in horror.
“You guys, what’s—” Isis followed close behind, pale and terrified, but her words cut off with a scream as something else made its way through the hole in the window, catching the curtains, couch, and carpet on fire.
Jere felt the panic rising. “Go! Get down in the cellar,” he ordered, striding toward the front door.
“Jere!” Wren called after him, held back by Isis, who was clutching onto his arm and still screaming. She tried to pull him away, toward the cellar, and Wren tried just as hard to shake her off.
Jere ignored them both, intent on opening the door and destroying whoever dared to threaten his family. He had no clear plan, but suddenly, the possibility of a heart-stopping mind-bind seemed quite appealing. He had no concern for himself, only for protecting Wren and Isis.
By the time he opened the door, all he saw were the backs of the people as they fled away from his house and away from the town. Five figures, running away as quickly as possible. Jere didn’t yell or threaten; he didn’t need to. They had taken off at the first sign of resistance, like cowards, only willing to intimidate and threaten.
The fire inside of the house lit up the yard, and Jere cursed as he noticed that large chunks of the ground had been ripped up by some sort of mind gift, crudely spelling out the words “gift traitor” in the remaining dirt. The removed soil and grass was piled in front of the door; clearly, the attackers hadn’t realized that it swung inward. Not only had they tried to light the house on fire, they tried to make sure nobody could follow them.
With every bit of fury and panic he had, Jere threw out a psychic warning and request for help. He wasn’t a physically intimidating man, but his gift was strong, and the intensity of his psychic message was enough that he could feel unknown people recoiling, as if he had shouted too loudly in the middle of a quiet room.
Trained attendants at the police station picked up the message.
“Sir, is there a problem?” a voice asked.
“I’ve been... vandalized, attacked.” Jere tried to clear his thoughts enough to send them clearly. But there was smoke and fire, and what if there were more? Outside wasn’t safe. There was no good way of dealing with fires, so inside wasn’t safe, either. “Send help to 141 North Meadow Lane, and catch the five people running north from here!”
“Someone will be on the way soon, sir,” the voice promised him. “Stay in a safe place. Is anyone hurt?”
“I’m the fucking doctor!” Jere snapped. “Just catch the bastards!” He broke off the connection, needing his energy and attention to deal with what was happening to his home. Even as he looked at his living room, he could see the fire spreading quickly, consuming more and more. The smoke was worse, as the furniture was mostly smoldering, not quite caught on fire, yet.
Jere turned, looking at Wren and Isis. “I thought I told you guys to go to the cellar!” he snapped, panicked. “They won’t kill me, but you’re fair game! You need to be out of here, where it’s safe!”
Isis just clung to Wren, sobbing, and Wren shook his head. “Not without you.”
“Dammit, Wren—” Jere started, then stopped, looking at his lover’s face. Wren was as terrified as he was, and just as unlikely to leave. He had been jumpy around fire ever since he had returned from the evaluation, and Jere wasn’t sure just how well he had gotten over the torture they had subjected him to.
“Fine, we’ll all go.” Jere moved toward Wren and Isis, planning to push them into the cellar and lock them down there until they were safe. He wouldn’t risk the attackers coming back.
Wren glanced at him, clearly sensing that something was amiss. He looked over at the fire. “We have to deal with this.”
“Just get somewhere safe!” Jere wished that Wren would just do as he asked. He started to cough from the smoke. “Forget the house, just go!”
Wren gave him a determined look, detached Isis from his arm, and pushed her onto Jere. Dodging Jere’s attempt to grab his arm, he walked further into the living room, which was burning quickly now that the fire had taken hold.
“Wren, what are you doing?” Jere asked, his voice rising as he watched his lover step into the middle of the flames. He watched in horror as Wren calmly picked up a blanket and placed it over the fire, singeing it all over, then tossed it aside.
“Wren, stop, there’s too fucking much!” Isis pleaded. “Let’s just go!”
Jere realized exactly what Wren was doing. He watched as Wren made his way to the center of the fire, where it would burn the hottest, the flames parting for him as he did. He spread his hands out over the flames, not getting burned by them, but absorbing them, stopping them as quickly as they spread. He didn’t look out the window, or at Jere, he just stared straight ahead, taking the flames into himself as if it were nothing. Jere was terrified that someone from the police station would come, but it all happened so quickly, it was started and finished before he could even summon up a proper sentence in his head to try to convince Wren to stop. He had no sooner realized what Wren was doing and the fire was gone, smoldering here and there.
Wren followed up by speeding from place to place, crushing out the still-smoldering embers with the charred blanket he had used earlier. In seconds, he was finished, and he returned to where Jere and Isis were standing, shocked.
“Now, we hide,” he said quietly, grabbing Je
re’s hand and pulling him along.
The cellar had been cleaned up considerably since the first time Jere saw it, but he still didn’t like it. It was dark and creepy and full of bad memories, and despite the fact that Isis had taken to hiding down there when life became too much for her, it still had more crawly things than Jere was comfortable with. Regardless, it was a safe place without windows or doors, just the one entrance through the stairs. They would be safe there until the police arrived. Unlike the rest of the house, it was also free from smoke. They went down and sat at the old table and chair set that had been found while the cellar had been cleaned out. Jere still had yet to let go of Wren’s hand, and Isis was all but glued to his other arm, still shaking.
Jere realized that she wasn’t the only one shaking, and he took a few deep breaths to steady himself.
“They ran away,” he recounted, still terrified by the experience. “They took one look at me, and they ran away. I didn’t get a good look at any of their faces. The police are coming. I’ll get them to keep someone stationed here until this is over.”
Wren nodded. “That’s probably the best decision,” he admitted. “You think it’s because of your involvement in the SRA?”
Jere shrugged. “I can only imagine,” he admitted. “I had no idea this would happen. I never wanted any of this to happen. I should have stayed out of it!”
“But what you’re doing is right, Jere!” Isis protested, composing herself barely enough to make the words come out. “They’re wrong, not you.”
She sniffled a bit and then drew back, as if she had suddenly realized that she was touching another person. She settled herself just inches from Jere and Wren, the physical proximity indicating exactly how scared she was.
Jere shook his head. “They just fucking tried to burn us out!”
“It’s fine,” Wren said softly. “It’s out. They’re gone.”
It was silent for a moment while everyone caught their breath and processed the horror of what had really just happened. It was almost too much. If he had another choice, he’d back out of the SRA and everything else he’d threatened. If it wasn’t for Wren’s hand clutching his, he would probably be as panicked as Isis was. Wren was oddly calm, guarding his side of the connection. Jere let him take his space, just squeezing his hand and offering him a small smile.
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