After the Fire

by Felice Stevens

  “Lucas, fuck.” Jordan’s whole world spun to a pinpoint of color, whirling like a crazy kaleidoscope behind his tightly shut eyes. “Please, please,” he begged.

  And Lucas, who knew him better even than he knew himself, understood what he craved and demanded. For the first time since they’d become lovers, it was them alone in their bed. No drug running through Jordan’s bloodstream, whispering like a dark lover, sinking its fangs into his mind. His heart no longer rocketed about in his throat, and his skin didn’t drip with sweat and fear.

  And Lucas? He walked without pain, free of the self-loathing and humiliation that had taunted him like an evil clown from the recesses of his mind. He’d revealed his shame and was still loved.

  As Lucas entered Jordan, his heated breath whispering across Jordan’s face, they moved together, their bodies offering and accepting. The burn of the fullness and stretch completed Jordan, pleasure curling around his spine, building to a crescendo of want and need that sent him spinning off into a blinding golden haze. Lucas’s heavy hands pinned him to the bed, sinking Jordan into the softness of the mattress as Lucas drove himself deeper and deeper.

  They’d stopped using condoms after they’d both been tested and knew the commitment they had for one another was permanent. Nothing compared to the delicious drag of skin against skin, the slick, wet sounds of their bodies joining. There were sure to be marks on his body as Lucas slotted himself deeply inside Jordan, but Jordan welcomed them. They made him feel alive.

  And when Lucas hit the spot over and over again inside Jordan that sent him whimpering, his head thrashing back and forth on the pillow, Jordan lifted his hips, urging him on. Lucas slid his arms around him and held him close. Always in control at work and in public, in the bedroom Jordan became a shameless beggar for touches, kisses, and words of love. The vulnerability and softness he hid from everyone, friends and family included, belonged solely to Lucas, and Jordan gave of it freely and without limitations. Jordan did nothing by halves; he loved with his whole being.

  “Fuck me; come on, Lucas. God, I can’t take it anymore.” Jordan grabbed on to Lucas’s sweat-slicked shoulders, thrusting his pelvis upward, pressing his knees up to his shoulders. They rocked together, heaving their bodies toward that ultimate goal. Jordan grasped his cock hard as Lucas slammed into him.

  “Fuck, I’m coming.” Jordan moaned, and his cock pulsed, milky white jets streaming out, landing on his abdomen and chest.

  Lucas groaned. “Damn, that’s fucking hot.” He continued to thrust into Jordan, probing deep and hard. With each stroke, Lucas’s pace increased, and Jordan watched as Lucas’s face contorted into a silent scream of pleasure. Deep inside him, Lucas’s cock stiffened and swelled as he came. Jordan tightened his muscles, clamping down on Lucas, clutching his cock. Jordan loved the sensation of the liquid heat inside him as Lucas came. It was the best feeling in the world, to be filled up by the man you loved.

  “Shit, that was amazing.” Lucas collapsed on top of him, breathing hard. “If I have to get up, I might as well start my day off the best way possible.” He pressed his mouth to Jordan’s, and they shared a heated kiss that blazed through Jordan. They stayed that way, kissing and touching each other as they came down from the high of their lovemaking.

  Jordan toyed with Lucas’s sweaty curls as they lay together. “Too bad you have to work on a Saturday.” He rubbed his face against Lucas’s shoulder. “We could spend the whole day in bed like this.”

  Groaning, Lucas slid out of him and rolled over on his back. “What are your plans?” He scratched his chest and gave a huge yawn.

  “I have to call Tash to set up my therapy; then I’m going to the center. I need to spend some time there with the kids and the volunteers. I want to know about the gun collection project.” Jordan folded his arms behind his head and frowned, staring up at the ceiling. “I feel I’ve let the project down because of my own personal issues.”

  “Hey. Look at me.”

  Jordan complied, and Lucas stroked his cheek. “You were going through one of the worst periods of your life. A weaker man wouldn’t have been able to face his fears and addiction and come out of it stronger than before.” A grin flickered over Lucas’s lips. “Damn, I don’t know why I’m building up that massive ego of yours. That’s never been your issue.” He broke out into a full-fledged laugh as he got out of bed.

  Jordan lunged at him, but Lucas was too quick and sidestepped away. “Uh-uh. I can’t be late. I have a lot of catching up to do if I want to leave early and not be stuck there the whole day.” He walked toward the bathroom. “Of course, feel free to join me in the shower. I can always use you to wash my back.” Lucas grinned over his shoulder and gave Jordan a wink.

  “Massive ego? What’s the matter? You can’t handle the truth?” Throwing out the line from one of his favorite movies, Jordan nevertheless scrambled out of bed to join Lucas in the shower. He wasn’t crazy; a wet and naked Lucas was the best way to start his morning.

  Lucas left without breakfast, hurrying out the door with his ever-present coffee thermos in hand. Today was Oscar the Grouch tie day. Jordan loved that playful side of Lucas and vowed to call the detective Ash had hired to see if there was any news on Brandon. There was nothing he wanted more in the world than to reunite Lucas with his younger brother. Hell, he could even admit wanting to do it for Ash as well. Now that he knew Ash’s horrific story of abuse, he understood why the man had once behaved as he did. Sex without emotion was meaningless and heartbreaking.

  Thank God Ash had found Drew, for Jordan now knew without a doubt, having undergone therapy himself, that Ash would have eventually succeeded in taking his own life. With Drew by his side, loving him and standing strong, Ash would make it. There had to be decency in Asher Davis for him to recognize the pure and inherent goodness in Drew and love him as deeply as he did.

  Jordan dressed, then, after downing two cups of coffee and some oatmeal, took Sasha for her walk. He’d come back and closed the front door behind him when his phone rang. Seeing on the caller ID that it was Jerry, he smiled as he answered. “Hey, Jerry, how’s it going?”

  “Good.” Jerry sounded official and rushed. “Listen, we’ve had a break. That kid you used to buy from, Johnny, was picked up last night on a breaking and entering. He can’t make bail, so he’s being held until he can come before the judge. We’re gonna interview him now and ask him questions on your assault.”

  Strange as it might seem, Jordan felt sorry for the young kid. After all, he hadn’t forced Jordan to buy the drugs. “Take it easy on him. He wasn’t the one who beat me up.” Thinking back to how Lucas and Ash had to survive when they were that age, Jordan could only hope Johnny could get some help making better choices. “Why don’t you let me talk to him later on? Maybe I can help.”

  “I don’t know, Jordan. That’s kinda unorthodox.” There was reluctance in Jerry’s voice, but Jordan sensed he could be persuaded.

  “Look, think about it. I’ll be at the Center today. Call me either way.”

  “How’s everything going for you?”

  “About as well as can be expected. It hurts still, but the anxiety lessens every day. It’s a struggle, you know?” The craving didn’t magically disappear. Every now and then something triggered, and the desire to take a pill rushed through his blood. But those times were becoming less and less frequent, and now that he was clean, there was no fucking way he’d ever do this to himself again. He’d rather remain in therapy for twenty years than take drugs.

  Jerry grunted. “Well, I’m glad you got the help you needed, but you should know you could always come talk to me. You and Keith were like sons to me and Marie.” He hesitated for a moment. “So it’s permanent with you and Luke, huh? He seems like a nice guy.”

  Jerry had suffered too. He and Keith had been partnered for the five years after Keith had made detective. Jerry had confided in Jordan he was thinking of retiring this year. Too much death and tragedy. He wanted to enjoy his life.
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br />   “Yeah, it is. Lucas is a good man, Jerry. I hope you and Marie get to know him better.”

  “We want you to be happy. And I can see you are for the first time since Keith died. So for that, I’m grateful to Luke.” A bit of humor crept into his voice. “And if he does something bad to you, I can always arrest him and lose the key.”

  They shared a laugh and hung up after Jerry agreed to call Jordan later about Johnny.

  With a final pat and several treats, Jordan left Sasha and headed for the Center. It was only a few blocks from his house, and as it was a cool late fall day, he enjoyed the walk. With pride, he entered the space, noting it was already more than half full at only ten thirty on a Saturday morning. He found Wanda sitting in the back.

  “Hi.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “Busy this morning, huh?”

  “Hi, baby. Yeah, it’s packed.” Wanda smiled, then looked behind him. “Where’s your man?”

  Jordan laughed. “He had to work this morning. All the time he took off taking care of my problems cut into his own work. So he’s putting in some extra hours.”

  “Hmph. They work him too hard there.”

  Jordan knew how Wanda disliked the crazy hours and competitive world Lucas lived in, but the fact was Lucas loved it and was damn good at it. “It’s his life, Wanda, and he’s his own man. Besides”—he took her hand and sat with her at one of the empty tables in the back—“it won’t be like this forever. If he makes partner in a few years, he can slow down.”

  “And how are you doing? Okay now?” She searched his face. “No more secrets and problems, right?”

  Heat rose in Jordan’s face, but it was a fair question. “I’m getting there, and no. No more secrets. I’m done with that and so is Lucas.”

  “You’re ready then, to make a commitment with him. It’s not too soon for you? I know you think I’m a nosy lady, but that’s my baby, and I don’t want to see him hurt again.”

  Fair enough. And it wasn’t like Lucas hadn’t gone through the third degree with Drew’s grandmother. “I never expected it, to be honest. But sometimes it sneaks up on you and knocks you down.” Over the past year, he’d been flayed to the bone, his skin stripped and bloodied. The last thing he expected to find in the darkness was love. “Maybe all we’ve had to slog through, the tragedies and triumphs, will make us appreciate what we mean to each other. I’ll never let him down, Wanda.” Jordan handed her a tissue as he watched her eyes fill. “He gave me back my life.”

  Tears trickled down her cheeks as she sniffled into her tissue. “All I’ve ever wanted was for that boy to be happy and find someone to love who’ll love him back. He was so lost, even though he tried to pretend everything was under control.”

  “Making up with Ash helped the most.”

  She crumpled the wet tissue in her hand. “Thank God for that as well. He needed to do that. And I pray every day they find their youngest brother.”

  He patted her arm. “I hope so too. Now where’s Troy?” He looked around the room for the big man from the shelter who ran the gun collection program and acted as their liaison with the police department. He spotted him by the computer room, and when Troy caught his eye, Jordan beckoned him over.

  Jordan made Wanda promise to come by for dinner in the next week and said good-bye, then hastened over to meet Troy halfway. “How’s it going, man?” They exchanged the obligatory handclasp and back slap.

  “Good, good. We got lotsa my guys on the street sayin’ that they’re down with this, ’cause you’re helping the kids.” He shot Jordan an unreadable look. “It’s all about the kids.”

  “Always, Troy. The longer the kids stay out of trouble, the better chance they have of making it through school. And an education is the most important thing to help get people out of the shelter system. So what’re the numbers looking like?” They walked as they talked, heading to the office in the back. Jordan unlocked the door and flipped on the light switch. He took a seat behind the desk and logged on to the computer. Troy stood behind him.

  “Pull up a chair; make yourself comfortable.” After Troy got settled, Jordan opened the database they’d set up to track the gun-turn-in program. A few more clicks and he turned to face Troy with a wide smile.

  “This is fantastic. Troy, you didn’t tell me you brought in fifty guns in the past month. Way to go.” His good humor faltered when Troy failed to return his smile. “What’s wrong? Did I get the number wrong?”

  “Nah, man.” Troy shook his head. “It’s right, but it’s so useless, you know? Does it really matter if we bring in fifty when we know there’s hundreds more out there?” His dark eyes searched Jordan’s face. “Is this doing anything, really?”

  Jordan toyed with a rubber band for a moment before shooting it across the desk. “Do you vote, Troy?”

  “Yeah, sure. I couldn’t wait to turn eighteen for that.”

  “Well, a lot of people don’t. They think their vote doesn’t matter, so they stay home; then they wonder why things don’t ever change. They continue to complain, but they don’t participate in the process to make the change happen.” A wry smile broke over Troy’s face as Jordan spoke, and he knew the man understood the point he was trying to make. “A single vote, in and of itself, doesn’t matter, but when you partner it with everyone else’s vote, it gives you power. Strength in numbers. So one vote, one gun—it all adds up.”

  Troy sat a moment. “I never thought of it that way, Doc. You’re all right, you know?”

  “Yeah, I like to think so.” Jordan laughed.

  “I don’t know many gay guys.” Troy’s gaze focused anywhere but on Jordan’s face. “Um, but I think you and Luke are cool.”

  “Thanks.” His phone rang, and once again it was Jerry. He held up a finger to Troy. “Hang on a sec, I have to take this call.”

  “Jerry. What’s up?’

  In the background, Jordan heard the once-familiar sounds of the hustle of the police precinct as Jerry spoke. “Listen, Jordan. Johnny wants to talk to you. Like I said before, it’s a little unorthodox, but we’re anxious to find out who his supplier is, so we’re willing to go the extra mile, so to speak.”

  Jordan checked his watch. “I’m finishing up some stuff here at the Center, but I can be there in say, an hour or so? Does that work for you?”

  “Perfect.” The relief in Jerry’s voice was evident. “We really appreciate it.”

  “No problem. I want to catch the guys who did this too. Plus, I’d like a shot at helping Johnny, if I can.” Jordan studied the pictures on the wall of the smiling kids and came to rest on the one of Keith taken on the day he was awarded his detective shield. “It’s the least I can do.”

  Jordan spent another half hour going through the rest of the gun program numbers with Troy. Wanda had promised to look after a little girl until her mother returned, but the child looked so sad Jordan took her in his lap and read her a story and helped her draw a picture. When he said good-bye to everyone, she tugged at his jacket and gave him a hug around his leg for a moment before running to the back and hiding behind Wanda.

  His eyes burned, and he surreptitiously wiped a few errant tears away before they streaked down his face. Until then he hadn’t realized how much of an impact the Center made on his life and others.

  Jordan walked the few short blocks to the police station. When he pushed open the front door, the familiar scent and sounds of the precinct he’d once known as well as his own home assailed him. Several of the clerical staff jumped out of their seats to hug him and make a fuss over him.

  Jerry pulled him away from the well-wishers. “Okay, everyone. Let Jordan go. He’s here to help me. You can talk to him later.” They walked to the back of the precinct, and Jerry briefed him as they passed police officers waiting around for prisoners to be processed. He knew many, if not most of the officers and detectives, and exchanged greetings with them as he and Jerry passed by on their way to the interrogation room.

  “How did you guys pick him up?” Despi
te the fact that Johnny had supplied him with his Xanax, he couldn’t hold it against the young kid. Jordan’s own desperation had driven him to take the drug in the first place. What had Johnny seen or done to force him into the dark brutality of drugs, guns, and the street?

  Jerry snagged himself a cup of coffee from a machine and offered one to Jordan. “He’s not too bright and got stuck with trying to steal too many things at once. Funny enough, though, it’s the first time he’s ever been picked up.”

  Jordan sipped the hot coffee slowly. “So his record’s clean? That bodes well for a reduced sentence or even no time with probation and community service, right?”

  Jerry nodded. “If you can get him to talk and tell us who his supplier is, we can work out a deal with the DA and guarantee no prison time. We’ve already read him his Miranda rights, and he understands them. He doesn’t want to talk to the legal-aid attorney, at least not yet.” Jerry finished his coffee. “He only wants to talk to you.”

  They came to a stop before a gray steel door. “I’ll see what I can do,” said Jordan. He drained the coffee cup and tossed it in the trash. “We could always use more help at the center, and he might fit in perfectly at Drew’s clinic as well.”

  Jerry put his hand on the doorknob. “Do your best, but I don’t expect miracles. Kid’s a product of his environment, after all.” He opened the door. “Johnny, I brought someone to talk to you.”

  Jordan shot Jerry a look and sidled past him into the room. At a utilitarian steel table, Johnny sat slumped in his chair, trying hard to look cool and nonchalant, like he spent all his free time hanging out in police stations. In reality he looked exactly like what he was—a skinny, scared street kid with greasy, too-long hair and outgrown clothes that had started out as hand-me-downs from Goodwill or the trash bin.

  “Hey, Johnny.” Jordan stood by the door with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

  At the sound of Jordan’s voice, Johnny’s black, fiery eyes, normally sneering and challenging, stared back at him, fearful and dubious. The thin lips, usually twisted in a snide little grin, quivered like those of a brokenhearted child. “Doc. You-you came?” The disbelief showed on his face.