by J P Sayle
Stuart had crept up behind him only last week while he’d been washing the dishes before spinning him around the room, making him giddy as a schoolgirl. Holding tight he’d laughed as the room spun. They had finally ended up swaying to the music that pulsed from the speakers. Tea lights he’d lit earlier had flickered, casting patterns around the room. Its ethereal glow encased them as the soulful sounds of Rebecca Ferguson filled the air. Stuart’s adoring smile had filled him right to the brim with happiness as did the gentle love making that finished the night in spectacular fashion. He could still feel those precious moments pulse inside him.
His mind yelled at him to break the tension that seemed to stretch as the silence lengthened. Unable to stop himself he cast a quick glance under his lashes, wondering if maybe Stuart had fallen asleep with the pain medication he’d given him before the bath. Okay, he hoped for a reprieve which the blackened, swollen slit of grey was so not going to allow as it focused on him, making him feel the weight of the intensity between them. He could almost feel Stuart willing him to look up, to look at him.
Exhaling, Joe squared his shoulders, bracing himself for whatever was coming, lastly meeting Stuart’s gaze.
“I love you.”
Joe jerked up off the bed, his tumbled rioting mind uncertain he’d heard correctly. His heart tried to convince his head that he had, but his mind was too frightened to hope it was the truth. Pacing back and forth, paying no attention to Stuart his hands raked through his messy hair. The smell of apples wafted, the scent normally calming did nothing.
How can he love me? He’d fucked up royally with Joel, bringing all his shit into Stuart’s life, his home. He’d been fucking kidnapped for shit sake! Stalking back to the bed questions died on his lips as Stuart lay against the navy sheets looking smugly satisfied, even though Joe hadn’t yet declared his own feelings.
Joe spoke, uncertain what he was going to say. “I love you too. I have never said those words to another, only you. You are my home, my life, my soul mate.” The simplicity of words caressed the air between them. His heart knowing exactly what needed to be said, joining them together. Joe all but felt the click inside his heart and mind. The joy of the moment filled him, eradicating the worry and pain.
Stuart opened his arms offering Joe the one place that really felt like home. Taking his time, he moved with caution not lying too heavily against him. The slight wince and indrawn breath had him attempting to pull back, but Stuart held him firmly.
“Keep still, then it won’t hurt as much. Just having you here with me helps. I promise you. Please I need this, I need to know this is real and I’m not dreaming it.”
His croaked words had Joe sniffing back his tears, laying his head on Stuart’s chest needing the contact too, affirming this was real. Stuart’s contented sigh filled the air, allowing Joe to rest listening to the sound of his heart beating, the last of his tension releasing. Accepting the truth of Stuart’s words, he wasn’t stupid enough not to know they had a long road to travel to get through the trauma of the last twenty four hours. Joe nuzzled into Stuart, breathing in his clean scent and letting sleep take him under, knowing if they had each other they could survive anything.
Stuart
One month later
Stuart came awake with a start pulse pounding in his ears, feeling disconcerted he listened intently, checking out the room for anything out of place. Seeing nothing wrong in the room he took in the light filtering through the curtains, he realised it was later than he expected. November mornings took a while to lighten, making him gauge it was probably around mid-morning.
Noticing the quiet of the house he had a flash of concern rise before he could quell it. He shrugged it off knowing he was getting better at being alone. He made a concerted effort relaxing back against the warm brushed cotton sheets. Warmth cocooned him, reminding him that they needed to buy another set of fleeced sheets. He could still see Joe’s horrified face when he’d said he didn’t own a pair of brushed cotton sheets. Chuckling at how Joe had battered his lashes at him, using his melted chocolate eyes to persuade him that he needed them in his life. Joe hadn’t been wrong he so did, stretching under their warmth now he took stock of his aches and pains. Cataloguing each pull and ache, he was pleased with his progress when he could move freely.
The past four weeks his body had healed and the surgeon at the hospital was no longer concerned about any permanent damage to his wrists. Rubbing them absently, he wondered if the same could be said for his mind. The counselling Joe and Brad had persuaded him to attend was helping or least he thought so. The urges to check on Joe had waned and he no longer jumped at the slightest noise, so he supposed that was something.
Sleeping and keeping the nightmares at bay, well, they had a way to go on that, but at least he could acknowledge openly the horrors he’d endured. Joe’s presence at that counselling session had been harrowing but the counsellor had felt it was important for both of them. He shook off the memory not wanting to live it again, rolling off the bed only groaning a little at the stiffness in his legs.
Stuart opened the curtains letting the light flood in, the crisp blue sky a welcome sight after the past few weeks of rain. Heading for the shower, stripping of his jersey shorts and top he stretched in front of the mirror. That first real look at himself in the bathroom after leaving the hospital could still make him shudder in horror. The torment he’d suffered had really hit home in that one moment making him worry about whether the damage to his genitals was going to be permanent.
He grinned to himself when his morning wood waved hello. Oh yeah, things were starting to return to normal there too, scratching his balls, he went to relieve himself. Recalling the first day he’d got morning wood the week before. The pain had him almost passing out, but by God if he could have done a happy dance he would have. Joe on the other hand, not sure what was wrong when he’d yelled, had all but had a fit as he had burst through the door. Well that was until Stuart could explain his relief over his concerns. The sympathy and guilt he’d seen in Joe’s eyes had taken the shine off the moment, making his erection flag.
He’d been careful after that, only sharing with the therapist and Aaden his concerns, not wanting to burden Joe. Aaden, though he continued to remain closed mouthed about what happened after they left him with Joel, was actually a great sounding board. Well, that was after he realised Aaden only wanted friendship from Joe, it had gone a long way to easing the tension between them. Stuart found himself venting his frustrations and worries to the stoic man, Joe’s guilt making for a daily discussion when it didn’t relinquish.
Since Joe’s first declaration of love he’d hoped he would settle, but for some reason that hadn’t happened because he was convinced he could still feel the uncertainty between them; no matter how many times he told Joe he loved him.
Over the past few weeks Joe’s fussing had driven Stuart to distraction only because Joe had never let him do more than hold him. The intimate side of their relationship a distant recollection, and okay, he’d known he wasn’t up for much, but he could have relieved Joe’s stress in that department.
Stuart rolled his shoulders as if preparing for battle as he got in the shower, thinking hard for ways to convince Joe he was fine or near as, damn it. He smirked at his eager bouncing cock, it fully on board with his other head’s thoughts on how to achieve that.
Washing quickly, Stuart took stock of his body. Joe needed to see past the images of that day. He had, now he just needed to find a way to get Joe to too. Stepping out of the shower he dried, dressing in sweats before he headed out of the bedroom. Stillness and silence had him padding down stairs wondering where Joe could be.
The warmth radiating from the lounge told him Joe had lit the fire already. Casting a quick eye into the room, the flicker of flames had him wanting to sit and watch them but his grumbling stomach kept him moving. The decidedly empty kitchen and lack of cooking smells ratcheted up his concern. Sweat beaded on his brow, clenching his hands whe
n his heart started to race. Using the therapist’s breathing techniques he let his mind calm, focusing on just breathing, repeating his own little mantra.
Seconds bled into minutes as he finally felt calm enough to unclench his hands. Opening eyes he hadn’t realised had shut, he searched, spotting the piece of paper on the table. Walking over he picked it up, chuckling when he read it. His smile spread across his cheeks in anticipation, eagerness had him heading straight out of the house.
His earlier disappointment at the lack of breakfast forgotten at thoughts of seeing Princess now she was at last home from the vet’s. There had been some complication with her surgery and subsequent healing. Unsure of the full story, but she had not been able to leave the vet’s when initially planned.
Martin and Brad had gotten home on the Friday after the Joel debacle. He still couldn’t call it a kidnapping, his mind not able to cope with that word. Both Joe and he had been distraught to find Princess was still not out of the woods. Brad and Martin had been camping out at the vet’s. After their initial visit to him to see how he was, he’d not seen them since.
He disregarded the winter chill penetrating his hoodie, feeling a sense of freedom after struggling to leave the house those first few weeks. He breathed in deeply, taking the time to appreciate the icy cold air as it filled his lungs, no longer feeling the anxiety at being seen. The reality that he could easily have auditioned for Frankenstein’s monster had finally dwindled with the swelling and discolouration.
It still shocked him that Greg hadn’t been able to recognise him when he’d found him. Well, he supposed in his own state of mind he hadn’t recognised Greg either. What had the therapist called it, temporary Agnosia—where the mind doesn’t recognise persons, sounds or shapes. Whatever it was, he was just happy that things were getting back to normal.
The fact the incident reported in the newspapers and regional television newscast had barely caused a stir, made him breathe a sigh of relief for Aaden. The reports of a John Doe being seen by several hikers before they’d witnessed him falling, rolling down the mountain side before coming to rest against a large rock. When they had gotten to him he was dead, his sustained injuries attributed to the fall. Though they had called for the emergency services, he had been declared dead at the scene. The local coroner had called it death by misadventure, putting his broken neck as the cause of death.
There had been no concern raised as to any other suspicious circumstances, the police had closed the case, though they were still attempting to identify him. There seemed to be no record of his fingerprints or dental records.
Greg and he had discussed that aspect at length, how can someone have no identity especially if they were in the army? Joe’s shrug when he’d asked about it more telling when he wouldn’t look at him. Stuart was suspicious, knowing full well what Joe’s capabilities were with computers. Though he kept those thoughts to himself, because as far as he was concerned good riddance to bad rubbish. Joel was better off dead than him, that was for sure. He chose not to feel guilty about that.
Pushing the thought away he wondered if Greg would turn up today, being as it was Monday and he had the excuse of work. Who would have thought it that Greg would be his saviour? Stuart chortled thinking about Greg’s avoidance of talking about what happened. He looked over to Aaden’s house, yeah it had nothing to do with Joel, and everything to do with a certain stoic neighbour, that was for damn sure.
Aaden would not discuss what happened, and as far as Stuart was concerned it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. However, the cold shoulder Aaden was giving Greg when he visited would have made crossing the Antarctic while wearing flip flops easier than Aaden having a conversation with Greg. He couldn’t understand what their problem was, and Greg wasn’t talking about it either, making his frustration grow with each visit Greg made.
That was also something that was very noticeable, Greg had insisted on spending an inordinate amount of time at his house over the last month when Stuart could remote into work and teleconference if needed. Stuart was absolutely convinced it had more to do with Aaden living across the road by the amount of time Greg spent mooning out the window.
Stuart put it aside for now bringing his attention to the door in front of him. Giving a perfunctory knock he headed in rushing through the house into the kitchen, knowing exactly where everyone would be. Eager to see Princess he burst through the door, happiness had him springing forward and lifting Princess off her velvet perch before he could think. Emotions had him blinking several times before he could speak.
“There is my brave little soldier.” His muffled words buried in her tiny neck. The silky fur tickling his nose, taking only seconds before the loud sneeze echoed through the room. The silence deafening before laughter erupted at the disgruntled look on Princess’s face, shaking her now wet fur she jumped out of his arms, stalking back to her pillow.
Looking down at her on her pillow Stuart gave her a sheepish smile. “You know I’m allergic.”
The howls of laughter had him wanting to join in, but the low rumbling growl emanating from the ground had him rethinking as his eyes clashed with Max’s bicoloured ones. Max’s hard stare had him stepping back from Princess.
The others clearly amused by the situation had his pinking cheeks puffing out as he sat down on the only vacant chair. The feeling that normal service had resumed between him and Princess had him grinning.
“Well, I was promised breakfast and a little cuddle from my brave little soldier, since I’ve had the second. Well sort of.” His disgruntled stare at Princess and Max causing more hilarity at the implied short length of the hug. He turned a beaming sultry smile on Brad. “Now, where is my breakfast?” Ramping up the huskiness, Stuart gave him a full watt sexy smile.
The implication behind his voice not lost on either Joe or Martin as they growled in unison. Stuart kept his satisfied smile in place as Brad went to grab a plate from the oven as he spoke.
“We had ours an hour ago, but I kept this warm for you, babe.”
Smiling brightly, Stuart noted how healthy Brad looked. Their initial visit to him had been difficult for everyone and he hadn’t really paid any attention to anyone. The feeling of guilt had made it hard, especially when you added in Brad’s obvious distress about Princess. Now, however, he could see that the holiday sun had deepened his skin to a beautiful bronze, making his sea green eyes glow with health. Though he had dark circles around his eyes, it didn’t detract from the radiating happiness that Princess’s return caused.
He ate in silence, happy to listen to the happy banter as Joe filled them in on how he would be helping Aaden finish his house. The work they’d started all those weeks ago had had to stop for obvious reasons.
Aaden had done some more work, but not much from what he gleaned from Joe. Aaden, it appeared, had been preoccupied with other things, but Stuart knew better than to ask what they were. With Stuart’s injuries healed he had encouraged Joe to help his friend to get things moving again. Joe’s hate for the state of the house only increasing with every visit, he was utterly convinced it was impossible to live with shit brown and flocked walls.
Ms Stevens, it would appear, had decided to sell and Aaden had chosen to purchase it for a steal. The offer by all accounts far too good to pass up, the question it raised for Stuart was why was he staying? Aaden had appeared even more broody and distant since the incident so it begged the question, why was he staying and what was his real problem?
Stuart looked at Joe raising his brow, swallowing his mouthful of bacon he tried to recall what he’d just been asked after zoning out.
Joe gave him a concerned look before speaking. “I think Greg has a little thing for Aaden, did you see the way his ass keeps making buttons to go over to the house to keep checking on Aaden? Or that he appears to have had a new fake tan done? Do you think he looks like he’s been tangoed? I think you need to have a word with him, Stuart. You know, tell him to scrub that shit off. Anyway, what do you think about him
and Aaden, you know, being a thing? There seems to be sparks, even if Aaden acts like he doesn’t exist.”
Head battered at the rush of words, Stuart considered how to respond. While he and Greg were friendly, he wasn’t sure how to interrupt the behaviour he’d witnessed since Greg’s return from Aaden’s last week.
It had taken Greg three weeks before he had finally mustered the courage to go and actually talk about what was going on between them. The ‘come to Jesus’ chat as he’d called it with Aaden didn’t seem to go all that well. The anger had been palpable when Greg returned and he hadn’t wanted to talk about it, so he let him be. But he couldn’t fail to notice the constant glances out the window and the subsequent lack of work, eventually he’d told him he could go home. Greg’s heavy sigh and slumped shoulders left Stuart feeling apprehensive for him, but unsure how he could help when Greg wouldn’t talk about what was troubling him.
“I’m not sure, but whatever it is, neither man seems happy about it. I think we should just leave them to it. As for the tangoed part, you’re a brave man, if you want to tell Greg he looks like an orange, he may be timid at times, but I bet under that quiet exterior is a little hellion.” His knowing look had Joe pouting, realising he had hit the nail on the head when Joe cheeks flushed under his stare.
“I mean it, Joe, leave them to sort it themselves. They do not need our help.” His stern tone had Joe poking out his tongue making them all laugh at his childish action. Looking down at his now empty plate, he gazed back at the sleeping Princess before turning to Joe. “Come on, I think Brad and Martin would like a little time alone with Princess.”
Rising he stopped mid step as Brad laid a small hand on his arm speaking in a hushed tone.
