Give Yourself Away

by Barbara Elsborg

Caleb would show him his back, he just had to let him do it in his own time and not push. He nibbled along Caleb’s collarbone and bent to lave his nipple, loving the way it hardened in his mouth, loving the way Caleb’s dick twitched in his hand.

  March felt as if he’d die if he lost him again. I don’t want to be like Liam. There is a difference. I won’t make Caleb do anything he doesn’t want.

  The water beat at March’s back as they kissed. March couldn’t stop kissing him, pulling at Caleb’s lips with his teeth, soothing with his tongue until they broke apart to breathe.

  “All along it was you,” March said. “I just didn’t know it. All these years, confused about what I wanted, and it was because I was waiting for you.” March stroked Caleb’s face. “I think I might have waited forever. It didn’t feel right until now. You make it right. Your beautiful body, your mind, everything that makes you, you.”

  “Not beautiful.” Caleb took a deep breath, closed his eyes and turned to the wall.

  March’s throat closed and he clenched his fists. Caleb’s back was smothered in ugly writing, ugly words. Thick black letters ran into each other, crisscrossing his skin.

  Liam. Fuck my arse. Liam. Fuck me. Liam. MY slut. MY cocksucker. MY cunt. Liam. Fuck me harder. Liam. I love Liam’s cock. Liam. Mine. Mine. MINE.

  Caleb began to shake, and March covered the words as he pressed himself against Caleb, wrapped his arms around him and crossed them over his chest. Caleb shuddered as he cried and March struggled to find the right thing to say.

  That fucking bastard. March wished Liam weren’t dead so that he could kill him.

  “Sssh,” March whispered. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

  It seemed a long time before Caleb stopped shaking. Only when he had, did March let him go and that was just to reach for the shower gel to wash him. Caleb kept his head down, his face to the wall. March wished he could wash away the words on Caleb’s back, but he had to settle for covering them with suds.

  “Now do you understand why I wanted to keep my T-shirt on? You want to stare at what’s on my back when you fuck me? No one would.”

  “Did you ever go to see someone about removing these?” March asked.

  Caleb shook his head. “I looked it up online. It sounded like it would take years, but I’d be left with a faint image, and that means what Liam wrote would still be visible. But…even the thought of asking someone, showing them…”

  Not hard to guess why Caleb hadn’t wanted to expose his back to anyone, but at some point, March would go with him to a skin specialist and see if anything could be done.

  He’d finished washing Caleb before he realized how low the guy’s shoulders had sunk, how still he was, how he was doing all he could to avoid looking at March. March tugged him out of the shower and dried them both. He wanted to reassure Caleb, but he was afraid of not striking the right balance and sounding as if he didn’t care when he did. If he talked about taking Caleb to a laser treatment center, it could seem as if the tattoos bothered him—and they did, but— Oh fuck, say something.

  March turned Caleb so that he was facing him, though Caleb’s attention was fixed on the floor.

  “We’ll go to see a tattoo removal specialist together and see what they say. If it takes years, then it takes years. Maybe you’ll need another tattoo to cover what remains. My face or a vase of flowers or a clump of grass or something.”

  He caught sight of Caleb’s lips twitching.

  “You gave yourself away there,” March said. “That’s what you really want, isn’t it? The grass.”

  “Or a puppy.”

  March laughed, relief lightening his heart.

  “Not so perfect, am I?” Caleb lifted his head and stared straight at him.

  “You are to me.”

  Caleb’s Adam’s apple rose and fell. “I try not to think about it anymore. I imagine my life as a book and me ripping out those chapters. Except the rest doesn’t make sense without them because what happened will always be a part of me.”

  Oh, Caleb. “How did you cope?”

  “I did whatever I had to do. I even tried praying. I didn’t think my prayers had been answered, but now I’m not so sure.”

  The look in his eyes made March’s heart ache.

  “You saw my panic attack,” Caleb said. “That still happens sometimes. Like I’m being suffocated by fear. I’m not emotionally stable. I’m not sure I ever will be. I think everything is fine and then it’s not. I can never get those years back. That’s why I’m super cautious now. I’m scared of losing the time I have left. I can’t look back and wish I’d taken a different path because there was no different path. Now, I have to make every day count.”

  “Are you happy?” Christ, what a stupid question.

  “This minute? In general? This minute I’m happy. You make me happy. I took a risk and showed you my nightmare and you haven’t run away screaming. Am I happy with my life? How could I not be when I remember what came before? But I don’t want my future to be all about getting over my past. If we’re going to make something here, you have to let it go too.”

  There was no if about it. “There’s still the issue of the roses. The stalker. I want you to feel safe. I want to make you happy all the time.”

  Finally, he’d said the right thing. Caleb smiled and inspiration struck.

  “You still have your ballet stuff?”

  “Yes.”

  “Put it on.”

  March tugged on his clothes as Caleb hunted through his bag. When he turned, Caleb was in a black tank top and knee-length black leggings, shoes in his hand. It had to be March’s imagination, but Caleb seemed to hold himself differently, more upright and confident.

  “You better put on your ordinary shoes and a coat. We’re going out.”

  “Er…nowhere public. You can still see the top of my back in this, plus I don’t want to get beaten up.”

  “No public. I want you to dance just for me. What sort of music do you like? Do you dance to anything in particular?”

  “I haven’t danced in ages.”

  “If you don’t have anything on your phone, find a few tunes while I’m driving. I’ll take my speaker-dock system.”

  “Hey, I’m an artiste.” Caleb put his hands on his hips. “I can’t just prance around to any old tune.”

  March paused on his way to the door. “You can’t?”

  “Okay, I can. But it might not be beautiful.”

  Christ, anything you do will be beautiful. You are beautiful to me. Every bit of you.

  “I do happen to have some music I like.” Caleb grinned, excitement all over his face.

  March drove to Langbourne College and parked in the head of the Arts Department’s reserved spot close to the entrance.

  “Should you park here?” Caleb asked.

  “No, but what are they going to do?”

  “Suspend you?”

  “I like to live dangerously.”

  At this time of night, there was unlikely to be anyone around. But the security guard stepped out from behind his desk as March used his key to let them into the building.

  March knew him. “Evening, Stan.”

  “Evening, Dr. Durant. You’re here late.”

  “Something important cropped up.”

  March led Caleb up two flights of stairs to lecture hall B, the biggest, and flicked on the lights. He was relieved to see the retractable seats had been pulled back and left tiered at the sides.

  “Will this do as a stage?” March asked.

  Caleb looked at him and smiled. “Yeah, it’ll do. Maybe a bit less light.”

  March switched off a couple at the front, over the open space. “Okay. Give me your phone and I’ll deal with the music while you warm up.”

  Caleb handed it over. “Just three songs, okay. I’ll be exhausted.
Start with the James Morrison one, ‘Undiscovered’, then ‘Everything’ by Michael Bublé, and the last one is ‘Take Me to Church’ by Hozier.”

  “Haven’t you got that one from Frozen?” March asked.

  Caleb laughed and put on his shoes.

  March settled on a seat by the door and slotted the phone into the docking system. He watched as Caleb ran around the room, and then launched into a series of jumping jacks followed by calf raises and full-leg swings. He rotated his head, shoulders and ankles, did more stretches on the floor, and March began to realize not only how flexible he was, but how strong. Like a gymnast. His build was deceiving.

  How was it that Caleb seemed so different? He still looked sexy as fuck in that top and leggings, and particularly because March knew what lay under that padding over his groin.

  Finally Caleb stopped moving and stood motionless, his feet pointing in opposite directions, his heels touching and his hands on his stomach. His eyes were closed as he breathed in and out.

  Shit, even that’s sexy.

  “Okay,” Caleb called.

  The moment the first song began, Caleb seemed to change again. Every movement of every part of the guy’s body sent shivers running through March’s veins and made the hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms stand on end. Caleb became the music, interpreting it with his body, absorbing it, making it his own. With his arms stretched out imploringly, his extended fingers lengthening the elegant lines of his body, he showed joy, pain, fear…love. He died and was reborn. He rejoiced and he mourned.

  And, oh fuck, the jumps. March didn’t know the names of them, but it seemed as though Caleb could do everything—leaping with his legs outstretched at one hundred and eighty degrees, jumping with legs together behind him, kicking, twisting. He slid over the floor, pressed himself up on one hand, flipped, arched until March thought his spine would snap. He flew through the air at an impossible height and danced full out, full-on.

  Electricity poured through him and from him, surging into March. Even when the music slowed, there was no let-up in the intensity of the interpretation, as much passion in calm as there was in speed. March felt every fucking moment. This was pure, raw talent.

  But when Hozier’s song started, March’s jaw dropped and he almost expected to hear it clunk on the floor. Lightning zipped down his spine. He sat welded in place while Caleb flowed like water. Caleb was sexy, sad, full of desire and lust, and March struggled to breathe.

  When the last note died away and Caleb lay curled on the floor, March rose to his feet. Caleb had sprung to his by the time he reached him, anxiety in Caleb’s eyes.

  “How can you look worried I wasn’t impressed?” March gaped at him. “Why the fuck are you a carpenter?”

  Caleb’s lips curved in a smile. “Was it okay? I landed a bit—mmph.”

  March dragged him into his arms and kissed him, and kept kissing him in between telling him how great he was. “It was fantastic. Why don’t you join a dance company? What the hell are you doing hammering nails into bits of wood? Any dance company would be lucky to get you.”

  Caleb pulled away. “Let me cool down or I’ll be stiff.”

  March laughed. “Like that’s a problem.”

  “Ha-ha.” He leaned to stretch his hamstrings.

  “I thought… Fuck it, you’re stronger than me.”

  Caleb shook his head. “No I’m not. I’m more flexible.”

  “Can you pole dance too?”

  “I’ve never tried.”

  “I’m going to get a pole put right in the middle of the lounge.”

  Caleb stretched his arm. “Wreck your view of the TV?”

  “I’ve found something much better to watch than the TV.” March adjusted his cock, shifting it away from his zipper. “I can’t believe I’ve never been keen on ballet. You have to give up playing with wood.”

  Caleb sniggered.

  “I mean it. It’s not too late to dance. You’re not old.”

  “Yeah it is and I am too old. Apart from the fact that a back tattooed like mine wouldn’t be acceptable, I’m self-taught and no one really believes you can teach yourself ballet.”

  “You did.”

  “Maybe I’m the exception. I spent hours just doing this.” Caleb moved his arms and let his hands fall into different positions. “Looks accidental and it’s not. Each finger has to be in the correct place, but it has to appear effortless as you do it. I think I have it right, but no one has ever seen me who knows what ballet is all about.

  “Plus, a major part of a guy’s role is lifting the ballerina. I’ve never done any lifts. I’ve never danced with anyone outside a club. I’ve never danced like that in front of anyone before.” He gave a short laugh. “I made most of it up as I went along. Chances to dance in a room like this don’t come along very often. Thank you.”

  He changed his shoes and pushed to his feet. “Damn, I’m all sweaty again.”

  March put Caleb’s coat over his shoulders and fastened the buttons. He handed Caleb his phone, picked up his speaker and wrapped his other hand around Caleb’s fingers. He’d never wanted to mend anyone so much in his life. No matter what Caleb said, it was March’s fault that Liam had taken him and stolen those twelve years. He had to put things right. He owed it to both of them.

  Caleb felt as if he were floating as March drove them back. He’d wanted to do the best dancing of his life and he had. He’d practiced on the beach at dawn, but barefoot, wearing earphones and not in his ballet gear, and continually worrying about being seen or breaking his ankle.

  March was still going on about how fantastic he’d been as they drove back and Caleb flushed with pleasure. He wasn’t that good, but it was still nice to hear.

  “Tomorrow I’m going to look into finding someone to check out your back,” March said.

  A comment that immediately chilled Caleb.

  “And if that person says they can’t do anything, we’ll go to someone else.” March glanced at him. “It doesn’t make me feel any differently about you.”

  Caleb gave him a small smile.

  “I’ll still think you have a cute arse.”

  Caleb laughed.

  March sighed. “We’ll find someone who’ll remove them because I’d prefer not to change my name to Liam.”

  Caleb wouldn’t let him do that.

  “I quite like the ‘mine’, though once is enough and nothing else. But I don’t like that it was Liam who put that ink on you.” March squeezed Caleb’s knee. “I understand you don’t want anyone to see what he did, but let’s try and fix it, okay? I’ll come with you to the specialist, and then if anyone looks at you as if you’re an idiot, I’ll deal with them. Head-butt them or something.”

  March was still in protection mode after all this time and Caleb loved that about him. But he needed to tell March everything.

  “In a way, it was what Liam did to my back that saved me.”

  March gave a startled gasp. “How?”

  “Liam grew tired of me, bored. I was harder to control without being doped and I guess a grown man just lying there and accepting it didn’t turn him on the way a struggling kid had. I know he’d stopped wanting me. All those years I’d hoped it would happen and once it did, I was afraid not just that he’d kill me but that he’d snatch another child.”

  March turned onto the road that led up to his house. “Sure he’s dead?”

  “Yes.” Oh God, I hope so. Caleb let out a shuddering breath. “Liam didn’t only have me under constant video surveillance, he also took photos and filmed me and put them online. Me on my own, me and him. There’s one movie, a long one, where he shows how I changed as I grew older, how the look in my eyes changed too.

  “Sometimes he brought another guy in to film. I begged the man to help me but he just laughed. The cameraman wore a mask, never spoke while Liam fucked m
e. Even though Liam kept bleaching my hair, I thought it was a good thing that he was filming me because maybe someone would recognize me or him, even though he wore wigs, and it was obvious, he made sure his face was never in full view. So although I hated that he sold images of me, it gave me hope.

  “Which was stupid because the guys in that world are under the radar. None of them would have done a thing because they got turned on by watching. They weren’t going to give themselves away. But I was too innocent to realize that and sometimes I smiled at the camera because I was thinking ‘they’ll catch you’.

  “Liam made me watch the recordings on his laptop and he’d point out what I should have done differently. Those videos will still be on the Web. I’ve never looked for them. The ones from when I was underage will be well hidden, maybe on the Deep Web, but those when I was an adult, no need to hide those.” Caleb’s hands twisted in his lap. “The thing is, I didn’t fight all the time. Sometimes I just accepted it. Sometimes I pretended to like it. But I didn’t.”

  March pulled up outside his house and turned to him. “Nothing that happened to you was your fault. Nothing you did was wrong. You did what you had to in order to survive. To come back to me. Liam was a monster. He was what all parents fear, what we feared, and he caught us and kept you and I wish, wish, wish he hadn’t, but don’t ever apologize for anything that happened. If I hadn’t been greedy for fishing rods—”

  “No,” Caleb snapped. “What you say applies to you too. We can’t spend the rest of our lives thinking ‘what if’. I’ve told no one since I got away from him. Yes, I have panic attacks, but what happened isn’t eating me up inside because I won’t let it. You have to let it go too. If you can’t, we’d be better apart because we’d tear ourselves to pieces.”

  “No,” March said. “Please don’t tell me that. I can let it go.”

  Caleb wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know if he could cope with being with someone who knew. To have no secrets sounded good, but if every time March looked at him he was remembering what Liam did, it would drag Caleb back into what he’d escaped.

  “Give me a chance,” March said. “Live with me. There’s a spare key in the blue pot in the kitchen. Take it.”