by SJ Himes
Silas blinked, confused. What? Jim laughed, the deep rumble smooth and intimidating, and Silas stared at the captain, wide-eyed. His voice was typical Boston, but with a heavy Irish influence. Jim’s appraisal was so thorough Silas wouldn’t be surprised if Jim could read his thoughts.
“Yeah, this one’s been beaten too many times. By a big man, too. Makes sense. Warner is a tall guy, though not as meaty as myself. I’ll not hurt you, kid. Gael would take me apart at the seams if I so much as made you flinch. Not that I would, but all the same, I’ll be staying out of arm’s reach.”
“Oh-okay?” Silas said quietly, confused. Maybe he was still asleep. Though Gael’s heat along his side and the reassuring presence of his arm around his back said this was real.
Jim Riley gave him another small, patient smile, and turned his attention to Gael.
“Jim is one of my friends, I called him over to get some advice on what to do about your father,” Gael told him, nuzzling into his hair next to his ear and making Silas want to melt.
“One of your friends? Boy, you’ve got one friend, and that’s me. Everyone else you know, you fuck once and then never see them again—or you work with ‘em,” Jim snorted, and Silas lifted a brow, wondering how many people Gael slept with. The number had to be high to provoke that kind of statement from Jim. Not that it mattered, he was no one to judge. “And don’t get me started on the fool you fucked and work with.”
“Does that mean he fucked you, too?”
Silas slapped a hand over his mouth, ruing his smart-ass tongue and tendency to speak before he thought. He did not want to make this monster of a man angry.
Gael choked, and started coughing, but it soon morphed into laughter. Jim stared at Silas, mouth open, brows lifted, and his face went beet red. Silas smiled and dropped his hand, and Gael gently hugged him, still laughing.
“No, angel, I haven’t fucked Jim,” Gael chuckled, dark eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ve thought about it plenty of times, but Jim is too straight for me.”
“He’s very handsome,” Silas whispered back, and Jim’s eyes went wider, face redder. “He’s really big, kinda intimidating.”
Jim did a weird cross between a smirk and a frown, as if he was pleased he was big and scary, and trying not to scare Silas by preening. It was the awkward expression that made Silas relax all the way, and he moved himself so that he was still leaning on Gael, but no longer hiding.
Silas was about to ask what Gael and Jim had decided while he was sleeping, when his stomach rumbled. Gael chuckled at the sound, and Silas held back a sigh. Gael was delicious. If only he could eat him for supper.
“Sit, angel, I’ll get you a sandwich,” Silas sat as Gael left him and moved to the fridge. Silas sent Jim a wary glace, wondering how he would react to Gael making him something to eat. Jim just leaned on the bar, watching him, and Silas flushed.
“What?” Silas asked, perturbed.
“Just wondering what your plans are? You going to disappear on him?” Jim asked, tilting his head at Gael, who was studiously keeping himself busy slicing the leftover steaks. “He never lets anyone in, and he never calls anyone pet names. He likes you.”
“I…No,” Silas blurted out, and his flush deepened when Gael sent him a pleased glance, a small smile on his lips. He liked Gael, too. A lot. He cleared his throat, and thought about Jim’s question. “I’m not sure what I’m doing. I was planning on going back to the dorms after break, but I have a few more days until they’re reopened, and my father probably has men watching the dorms anyway.”
“If he’s really that determined to get you back, I’m wondering why he hasn’t declared you missing to the police,” Jim mused, rubbing his chin, and Silas heard the rasp of unshaven stubble. “Gael tells me he has friends on the force that tried to grab you?”
“Yeah. Lt Helms at the Back Bay precinct. Goes golfing with my dad a couple times a month. I stupidly went there right after I climbed out of my bedroom window, thinking to turn my father in for abuse and assault.”
“Didn’t work out, huh?” Jim asked him, keeping his tone conversational, and Silas was thankful for it. He didn’t think he could remain calm if Jim started to get aggressive with his questions. Gael kept looking over at him, as if checking on him, but he didn’t say anything and made the sandwiches without pausing.
“No. Helms was waiting for me. My dad called him, warned him. I wouldn’t have gotten away if this drunk guy hadn’t thrown up all over the foyer. ”
“Gross,” Jim said, making a face, and Silas chuckled.
“You go back to the dorms, he’ll get you for sure,” Jim stated, and Silas reluctantly nodded. “The media hasn’t picked up on the fact you were involved in the shooting. My guess is your father doesn’t want anyone to know, since he can’t produce you, and all those bruises can’t be explained by getting shot. It won’t last for long, since too many people know you were at the hospital.”
“I figured,” Silas replied, suddenly tired, and if he wasn’t so hungry he would want to go back to sleep. Asleep he didn’t have to think, to worry. “I think my college career is over, anyway. He won’t keep paying for my education if I don’t toe the line, and I’m done doing that. I held back all these years for my mom’s sake, but he’ll kill me if he ever gets his hands on me again. He almost killed me this last time. It’s why I ran.”
“You’re education isn’t over,” Gael suddenly said from the other side of the room where he was plating three sandwiches. “What school do you go to?”
“Boston College here in town,” Silas said, eyeing the huge sandwich Gael placed in front of him. He smiled his thanks and Gee gave his left shoulder a rub. The sandwich smelled divine, and he thought he caught a hint of horseradish spread. He picked it up and started nibbling on it, mindful of his stomach. He refused to get sick in front of either Gee or the captain.
“Thanks, Gee,” Jim told Gael, accepting his own sandwich. Gael took the stool on Silas’ side opposite Jim, and he felt oddly protected wedged between the two big men. He wasn’t a small man by any means, but he was no powerhouse like these two men.
“Boston College? So call them after the break, the Admittance Office, and explain the situation. Tell them you were injured, and see if you can’t re-enroll for the second semester.” Gael sounded so certain, calm and factual. “If you want, contact the hospital, and have them send confirmation to the college about getting shot. The hospital may freak out since you checked yourself out unofficially, but they can’t withhold your records. Don’t tell them where you are, but give them enough so that your education doesn’t suffer while you recover. Apply for some scholarships and student loans, and once your dad has been taken care of, you can get a part-time job.”
“That easy, huh?” Silas murmured, picking at his sandwich, head down. “Just have to take care of my dad.”
A hand went under his chin, and tilted his face up, and Gael gave him a stern look, mixed with a heavy dose of affection. “Sometimes the messiest situations are the easiest to fix.”
“I hope so,” Silas whispered, and Gael gently squeezed his chin before letting him go.
…
Jim left after a few hours, as if reluctant to leave Gael now that he’d opened up and invited him over. All it took was stealing a nineteen year old runaway college student from under the nose of his asshole father for Gael to need Jim for more than company at work, and Gael knew Jim wouldn’t let him slide back under his usual withdrawn façade. It was only for Jim, and now for Silas, that Gael showed any kind of affection, of happiness. For Jim, it was ten long years of constant interaction and comradery that let Gael welcome the captain into his heart, but for Silas—his angel was there, instantly, from the first moment he found him bleeding to death in that alley.
Jim’s parting words reinforced Gael’s determination to keep Silas safe, even from himself.
“That boy isn’t thinking about anything except how much he wants you. He’s repressing the trauma of the last w
eek, hell, the last several years. He should be crying or talking nonstop about what happened with his father and in that alley, and nothing. Silas answered our questions, but not a word on how he feels about it. He’s focusing on you so he doesn’t have to deal with anything.”
Jim’s cautionary words echoed in his mind as he watched Silas. Jim was right, to some degree. Silas wasn’t acting like he was the survivor of a horrific tragedy, nor was he acting like the typical victim of domestic abuse. Silas could be repressing, or he could be silently processing it, and would gradually come to terms with what happened to him. Though Gael had been at his job long enough to realize that everyone was different, and human beings never really toed the line when it came to emotions and expected reactions.
Silas was using Gael’s laptop and the TV was on the local station, which was covering nonstop the mass shooting. No mention yet of Silas in the list of the injured, but the police wouldn’t release all the names of those injured or dead until next of kin was notified.
“My name hasn’t been released,” Silas called over his shoulder, from his seat on the couch. Gael couldn’t recall the last time anyone sat in this room and watched TV. Gael walked over and gave him a can of soda, and Silas took it with a grateful smile. Gael forgot to let go when Silas’ fingers grazed his.
“Gee?” A small whisper, and Gael blinked, watching intently as one of Silas’ fingers slid up the back of his hand and went to his wrist, tracing the lowest edges of the tattoo there. Hairs all over his body stood on end, and he swallowed, trying to wet his dry throat. Silas’ touch was smooth and soft and inquisitive, and he wanted more.
“Yeah?”
“Can I have the soda, please?”
Gael snapped out of it, and let go, letting Silas have the can. Silas was blushing, face red, eyes twinkling, and Gael almost dropped to his knees when Silas wet his lower lip with his pink tongue. His wrist burned where Silas had touched it, and Gael wanted more.
“Oh, um, sorry,” Gael muttered, and all but ran from the temptation sitting on his couch. “Don’t overwork your shoulder!”
Gael headed for the stairs, intent on changing into his running gear and going for a very long, very exhausting jog around his neighborhood. Anything to keep himself from jumping on Silas and caressing every inch of his beautiful body. Silas’ fixation with him was powerful and it took more than Gael wanted to admit to resist the invitation in Silas’ eyes and his touch. His angel was hurt, repressing his emotions, and traumatized from his father’s abuse and the mass shooting. Getting involved with Silas now would only mess things up for the both of them.
Chapter Seven
“Silas?”
Gee’s voice came through the bathroom door, and Silas finished rinsing and shut off the water. Shaking his wet hair out of his eyes, he reached for his towel and stepped out of the shower.
“Yeah?” Silas wrapped the towel around his waist and went to the door, opening it wide. He was very proud of his self-control, and he contained the urge to grin at the gob-smacked expression Gee wore. Gee was freshly showered and dressed again after his daily run, and Silas wanted to explore every single inch of the man.
It was two days after Gee took him from the hospital, and Silas was doing better. Still in pain, and his shoulder and arm ached fiercely, but he could move it. He wasn’t as weak, and he could stand without fearing he would topple over. And sleeping in that guestroom, alone, was almost more than he could bear. Ever since Jim’s visit, Gael was reserved, and while he watched Silas like he was the only interesting thing in the world, he wasn’t as free with his touch as he had been before. Jim must have said something, done something, and Silas would have had time to be upset about the older man’s interference if he wasn’t so busy trying to catch Gael’s attention. He felt like a teenage girl stalking her crush.
“Gee? You wanted something?” And now Silas smiled, since Gee’s eyes were locked on his chest, eyeing the water droplets running down his torso, and Silas felt blood rush south when they landed on the towel around his waist. Usually he would be embarrassed for anyone to see him get an erection, but Gael was another matter. His cock plumped up enough to define its shape beneath the towel, and Gael’s eyes landed on it like it had a target painted on it. He leaned against the doorway, and he watched Gee watch him.
“Um…yeah,” Gee swallowed audibly. “Your shoulder okay? You didn’t get it wet, right?”
Silas gently tugged off the waterproof tape and the plastic wrap that covered the entry wound and the cuts from surgery, and dropped the dressing in the trash next to the toilet.
“Nope, all dry. Want to check?” Silas asked, stepping into Gee’s personal space and tipping back his head, close enough to feel body heat. Wonderful, heady, make-his-cock-hard-as-rock body heat. Gael was still, frozen in place, and his breathing was thready and rough.
“Looks…looks good.” Gee muttered, and his hand rose, seemingly of its own accord, and his fingers danced around the injury, gliding smooth and gentle over his battered flesh. Silas’ eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned forward, and the groan that slipped past his lips was entirely unintentional when Gael’s fingers followed the arch of his collarbone and up the side of his neck.
“Angel…”
He had no time to crow in success; Gael’s mouth was on his, hand wrapped at the base of his skull, fingers buried in his hair. Silas was held immobile, helpless to the bigger man as Gee’s tongue tasted his lips, questing between them. Silas slipped his left arm around Gael’s neck, and stood on his toes, kissing Gael back with everything he had, pouring out his desire, his fascination, the way he absolutely needed the man. Chest to chest, hips to hips, Silas let Gael take the kiss back, and the world tipped on its axis.
He’d been kissed before. Hell, his life imploded from the last one he experienced. Yet no kiss, no other man, nothing in his nineteen years would ever compare to the simple and effortless kiss Gael gave him.
…
When the towel fell and hit the floor, Gael had a brief moment of hesitation, but then Silas was whimpering in approval and he tasted so real, so wonderful, and so perfectly alive that Gael forgot all about Jim’s warning and dived in for more.
At some point, as Silas settled against him, trust and desire in every lean line of his body, Gael gave up resisting. Spending too much time running, when all he wanted was to touch and hold and cherish, and here his angel was, in his arms at last. They broke apart for air, and Gael held Silas to him, running his hands over the wet, smooth skin he found. Silas was naked, in his arms, and was looking at him like he would die if he didn’t get another kiss.
“Please, Gael…”
His name on Silas’ lips made him snap. Reserve gone. Obliterated by his own need to claim the angel in his hallway.
…
Silas was floating, the world spinning, and Gael seemed to be the common factor each time that happened to him. Strong, hard arms lifted him, and Silas nibbled on Gael’s neck and behind his ear as his personal hero carried him down the hall to the staircase. He clung and whispered naughty things in Gee’s ear, making the bigger man swear and almost stumble as they went upstairs.
Gee carried him down the hall, to his room, and Silas was gently lowered to his back on the bed, the messy covers and the strewn pillows telling him that Gee wasn’t sleeping well either. Silas pulled Gee over him, and the weight of him on top, pressing him firmly into the mattress, made him dizzy with need.
Gael stared down at him, dark eyes conflicted. Silas could almost hear the doubts in the other man’s mind, and he wanted to allay them, banish everything from between them but the want and lust and the growing emotion Silas was afraid was quickly becoming love.
“Whatever he said to you, whatever Jim told you, forget it. I wanted you before I even saw your face. Before I knew you were the one who found me bleeding out in that alley, I wanted you. The second I woke up and felt your hand on mine, heard your voice, I wanted you.”
They were so close, sharing ai
r, breathing in tandem that Silas saw the exact moment that Gael’s resolve fell away and desire took over. Silas met him halfway, and gave Gael every ounce of desire and raw emotion in his heart. They tumbled into a passion that burned away all of Silas’ fears and doubts, and he only dared to hope it did the same for Gael.
Silas let his head fall back as Gael kissed down his neck, hands kneading Gael’s shoulders, a part of him thrilled and terrified at the leashed power inherent in the man above him. Where other people put Silas off, and he kept his distance, when it came to Gael he wanted more, he needed more. More skin, more heat, more....Gael did something with his tongue, swirling and then nipping the spot between neck and shoulder, and Silas gasped, arching into Gael above him.
Suddenly Gael pushed up, kneeling above Silas. He watched while Gael grabbed his shirt, and pulled it up and over his head, revealing a landscape of smooth, bronzed skin and dark tattoos. A lion roared from a spot low on Gael’s ribs, and both of his biceps were covered in an intricate weave of designs and symbols. Washboard abs and a lean waist made Silas’ heart jump, erratic, his hands moving up and touching with eager need what he could reach.
Gael chuckled, a dark rich sound that Silas adored. His voice was a rumble that moved through Silas, leaving fire and need in its wake. Gee gently pushed Silas’ wandering hands down as he snapped open the button fly of his jeans, and Silas bit his tongue, eyes locked on Gee’s hands as the zipper lowered and grey cotton came into view.
Silas bit his lip, breathing hard. He’d seen other men naked before, but never put his hands on anything remotely close to what Gael was revealing. Gael leaned on his side, kicking off his shoes and peeling his boxerbriefs and jeans off his hips and down his legs, tossing them to the floor to join his shoes. Socks went flying, and then Silas was gifted to the unimpeded view of Gael’s hard-on, long and thick and uncut. Short, trimmed dark hair neatly framed Gee’s cock and balls, his sac drawn in tight to his body, cock leaking a small drop of shiny, clear fluid at the red tip. The foreskin receded even more as Silas stared, the shaft thickening, a gentle curve making it point upwards to Gee’s navel. It was a hefty piece of flesh, and Silas moaned, his whole body aching with the need to touch it, to take it in his hands and in his body.
