A PLACE FOR CLIFF (The Dominion of Brothers)
Page 1
A Place For Cliff
Book Two of the Dominion of Brothers Series
Written by Talon p.s.
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, is entirely coincidental.
This book both in its entirety and in portions is the sole property of and published by
Talon p.s.
Copyright © August 13, 2012 by Talon p.s.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold
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please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did
not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to
Amazon.com Kindle Direct and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Edited by: Tom Webb, Karen M. Candido, Nick Hasse & Princess S Obriot
Cover Art: Princess Stephan Obriot
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A Place For Cliff
Book 2: the Dominion of Brothers series
GENRA: MM / Erotic Romance / some D/s
WORD COUNT: 61,119
BLURB:
Abandoned by his parents and left to tend to his sick sister since he was nineteen, Cliff has done little more than wonder thru his existence. That is until the Patronus Diesel Gentry sends him to meet Pyotr Laszkovi. A man nearly twice his age but his impeccable looks and debonair sexuality has Cliff falling like a love sick puppy for the man. Problem is Cliff is about two threads from coming completely undone as a human being. Despite this Pyotr sees in him an irresistible young man who satisfies his needs like no other and is willing to be there to catch Cliff when he unravels and stay at his side during the hardest goodbye of all.
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Discover other titles by Talon p.s. at Amazon.com:
Becoming His Slave: Dominion of Brothers series book 1
Quantum Mates: What Torin Wants
Dear Soldier, With Love
Connect with Me Online:
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/Talonps
Author’s Web Page: http://www.Talon-ps.com
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A Place For Cliff
Book 2: the Dominion of Brothers series
Talon p.s.
DEDICATION
To my Twin, my Bug and to my Babay Bear
(no I did not misspell that)
Special Thanks goes to:
Tom ‘Babay Bear’ Webb
Karen M. Candido
Nick Hasse
Princess Stephan Obriot
for making sure I got this one out Dyslexic-Disaster-Zone free.
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Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. And are intended for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
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This book contains explicit homoerotic M/M sexual content, graphic language, and situations that for readers who are not offended may still experience some symptoms such as heavy breath, increased body temperature, extreme arousal and the uncontrollable need to pounce your partner.
Should you feel yourself experiencing any of the afore mentioned, relax… its natural and very healthy. Just go with the flow. Your partner will thank me later.
(Contains: Adult language, sexual MM participation, some violence and of course men being men).
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Trademark Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the
followingwordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
PRINT BOOK Publications
P. L. Kerr, J. J. Muehlenkamp, and J. M. Turner
Nonsuicidal Self-Injury: A Review of Current Research for Family Medicine and Primary Care Physicians
P. A. Adler and P. Adler
TheDemedicalization of Self-Injury: From Psychopathology to Sociological Deviance
FILM MENTION:
Grumpy Old Men
VEHICLES:
Ford F-150 Raptor Pickup Truck
Berkly Ford Excursion
Audi Quattro
ALCOHOL BRANDS:
Tragos Silver Tequila
Gromoff Premium Vodka
COLOGNES:
Davidoff Fragrances For Men
L'eau De Tarocco By Diptyque
Aqva Pour Homme Marine Toniq
Nautica Oceans
Light Blue Living Stromboli by Dolce & Gabana
Light Blue pour Homme by Dolce&Gabbana
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
COVER
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BONUS
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A PLACE FOR CLIFF
CHAPTER ONE
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Cliff looked at the piece of paper in his hand for the twentieth time as he stood outside the VA boarding house, then back at the bronze plaque on the brick wall next to the door. He was at the right place, but damned if he knew why. Hell he was still floored that Diesel had taken it upon himself to becoming Kimmi’s Guardian Angel at the treatment center, not only paying off the outstanding medical bills, but also sponsoring the new biological therapy for her. For that Cliff was forever grateful, but it didn’t make any sense that Diesel wanted him to come here. He wasn’t a veteran. Never even got the chance to consider enlisting, when his parents vanished leaving him to care for Kimmi on his own. Hope they’re rotting away somewhere—the anguished surfaced in his head.
When he saw Diesel at the club again over the weekend, he chased him down to ask why…
… Did you go?— —it’s a boarding house for Veterans back from the Middle East. What was I suppose to do there?— —Did you meet with him? — —No, I never went inside— Diesel had just looked at him for a long moment then finally spoke again, Go, meet with him, I think he can help you find exactly what you need— and with that the man also known by the title as Patronus walked away before he could question him further…
Cliff glanced up the side of the building, at the several stories stacked over his head. What the hell was he supposed to be finding here?
Footsteps coming up the sidewalk stirred him from his thoughts and he turned just as a tall, heavy shouldered man with a casual gate walked passed him and into the building, with hardly a glance his way. Still, Cliff didn’t miss the clear blue eyes shaded by predominant brows of dark brown hair on the man. Cerulean blue.
He shook his head. It was unnatural that he should know the name for the pa
rticular shade. He owed that much to his sister. When Kimmi was feeling well enough, she used her talent for color to paint. Stained glass mostly, but she’d recently got into watercolors and he was forever making stops at the local art supply store to find the exact color she wanted. After several retries he learned to pay closer attention to the specific shade she was asking for and accepted the fact that there was a bigger difference between Mediterranean blue, turquoise and blue-green algae that he’d previously cared to know.
“Can I help you with something?”
Cliff blinked, looking up to find the man who just walked in, standing at the door holding it open. He popped his head back out to looked at him and it took his breath away. Some men you could say were sexy, some were handsome or even pretty. This man was all the above and he was beautiful. Cool blues on a warm European face topped with thick dark, wavy hair, the color of coffee—black, no sugar. A strong jawline fringed with a smoothly trimmed beard that hadn’t been trimmed in a few days. The man shifted, resting his forearm on the threshold, taking a notion that he might be there a while waiting for the answer. Oh yeah he asked something.
“Is this 1638 Old Country Road?”
The man turned his head slightly glancing at the bronze plate on the side of the building, then back at him, an amused smile to his face, “This is the place.”
Cliff scowled. Okay, so that was dumb question number one. It’s best to space them out a little. “Can you tell me where I can find a Pyotr Laszkovi?”
The smile that had been dancing in the man’s eyes arrived on his face and lined his lips as they stretched out across his face, “You found me. You must be my next session?”
Cliff thrust his hand out at him. Maybe too quickly, but since it was already out there nothing he could do, but actually shake the man’s hand, “I’m Cliff—Cliff Patterson.”
The man’s eyes dropped to his hand as if almost surprised by the gesture, then shifted his weight off his arm and brought it down to take Cliff’s offered hand, but he didn’t actually shake it—just held it. “You ready to come in?”
“I—uh—” Cliff glanced around once more reminding himself he had no idea why he was here. He felt his hand drop and turned back to the man still looking at him through the propped door.
His smile kinked up to one side like a friendly smirk. “When you are ready then. First hall on your right, second office on the right. I’ll leave the door open.” And just like that he disappeared inside, leaving Cliff standing out there like some lost dim-wit. It might have helped if he knew why he was here. Patronus wouldn’t even give him a hint. What would it hurt to go inside? At the very least maybe the man inside could explain to him why he was sent here, and if not then another chance to look at his eyes.
He followed the simple directions and just as the gentleman said, the door was open. Cliff bent across the doorway peeking in and there he was—sitting behind a cozy wooden desk, reclined back in his chair. Feet propped on the desk and hands clasped over his lap, sitting there patiently as if the man had known all along he would come in.
“Well that didn’t take long at all.” The man glanced at him, nothing more, but waited for Cliff to complete the journey.
Cliff stopped at the doorway just taking it all in. The room was too small for all the things he had tried to cram into it—a modest attempt to have all the comforts he wanted at his finger tips in a VA budget-sized room. A large bookcase behind him was stuffed to the gills with books, magazines, old newspapers and other sundries some neatly stacked, some not. Catty-corner, another bookcase mirrored the likes of the first with the addition of medical reference sets. The rest of the room was consumed with two comfy chairs and a small narrow lounger, the kind you expect to find in a psychologist’s office. They were positioned so close you could sit in one and prop your feet up on another. A fresh newspaper was laid out on the small table to one side of a chair. He stepped in and looked over the headlines, but it wasn’t English. It wasn’t even an English alphabet.
“What language is this?” Cliff used the question like you would comment on the weather to break the ice.
“Serbian.”
“One of the guys I work with is from Serbia, but I don’t think he speaks it.” Cliff continued to look around the room, looking for something else to comment on.
The man stayed quiet just watching and waiting patiently.
“Should I close the door?”
“If it makes you comfortable.” The answer mild, but didn’t hint of whether he should or not.
Cliff didn’t move, but glanced down at the rather worn brown tweed sofa lounger, pushed back against the wall. It took up the whole space from the door to the corner, “Should I be sitting on this?” He turned then to look at the man sitting behind his desk in the same relaxed position he was in when he first came in, but Cliff watched for any change in the man’s expression.
“Only if you’d like to lie down.”
Cliff twisted rather suddenly to look him full front on, “Why am I here?”
“I’m not sure yet.” There was a slight gesture of his hands like a shrug there.
“What?”
“I said I’m not sure yet.” This time he shook his head, but only once.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because you haven’t told me what you need from me yet. When you tell me then I will know.”
Cliff stilled. He had half a mind to tell him to piss off and just march right out of there, but nothing in the man’s tone indicated any form of mockery or suggested some game. Rather every time he spoke it sounded like an invitation to stay and talk awhile. Even if he wasn’t striking the conversation up himself.
“How did you know I was coming?”
“Patronus said you might need my help.”
Patronus. Pyotr Laszkovi called Diesel by title—not just any title, but one that clearly defined his status among the B&D community. Well at least that told him something—he just wasn’t sure what. “Did he say what kind of help I’m to get?”
“No one knows that but you.”
Cliff let out a heavy sigh and dropped into the chair closest to him and dropped his face in his hands. This was too frustrating. He didn’t know why Diesel would send him here. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave—because he did need help. He just didn’t know what kind or what part this man was suppose to play. “I don’t know what I need.”
“Yet you are here. So perhaps there is something I can do for you. We just need to figure that part out.”
Cliff peeked up through his fingers, “How?”
The man shrugged ever so gently, “We can talk. Sometimes it helps to just talk. Next thing you know it all comes out and then you’ll know.”
It sounded like the best damn plan he’d ever heard, though he had no idea why because he hated talking. “So what am I suppose to call you?”
That smile crept back to his face. “My name works. Pyotr it’s almost like Peter.”
“Peter—only with an accent.”
He chuckled then. “Yes, only with an accent—and not spelled the same.”
Cliff sat back in the chair letting his head fall back and he turned to look at Peter, only not spelled the same. “So what do we talk about?”
“Anything you like.” Pyotr dropped his feet to the floor, pushed up and walked around to the other chair across from him and sat down. Letting his arms rest easy like on the armrests. “As long as it is about you.” He added.
Cliff glanced at his hands in his lap; they still looked chaffed from wearing the dusted nitrile gloves all day. He didn’t even know where to start really. “My sister—”
“Like I said—” Pyotr interrupted gently, “as long as it’s about you.” It was only a reminder— or perhaps, strange as it seemed, permission. Permission to think about his own feelings or just his own thoughts and not about what he had to go through to take care of Kimmi.
“I don’t get a lot of time for myself—” he started off. How weird
was that? Getting to talk about just himself and he couldn’t help, but want to continue. “But when I do, I like to go to this club down town—”
Pyotr shifted in the chair and propped his elbow up on the arm, his fingers strumming across his chin. Back and forth they moved, like a violin bow drawn slowly across the instrument’s strings as he listened to the young man talk. First just surface stories, the shell we all tell others and ourselves of who or what we want others to see—all lies. Most harmless, but we never tell ourselves the truth really. One thing told, led to another and Pyotr remained quiet as the young man continued. While his words seemed inconsequential, the young man’s body started to say something completely different. He was barely holding himself together. Thread bare at nearly every seam. It wasn’t going to be long before the lad came apart and there was no preventing it. No stitching him back together until after he spilled. Then it would take some time to sift through the young lad’s innards, take what was good and what was necessary and toss the rest. Thread up a new length of good sturdy cord and put him back together. That’s why the young man was here in front of him, he evaluated, to catch him when he went crashing, insides and all to the floor.
Obviously something took place that the Patronus saw as a sign and with Cliff being active in the BDSM community it was always best to refer him to someone inside the realm. Because somewhere among all the talk, sex was going to come up, perhaps even an identity switch. Any Average Joe doctor would likely pull out some Freudian non sense and send him up river from where he naturally needed to be. There was also the fact that Diesel used his title when he called. That opened the notion that perhaps Cliff here was in need of some scene therapy as well.