With the wind blowing toward him, he smelled his boy before hearing his familiar tread. Damien darted around the side of the shed and right into Will’s waiting arms. He couldn’t help himself. He pulled the boy in for a deep kiss, inhaling his sweet smell and tasting his equally delectable mouth. He went instantly hard and had to really fight the urge to take him down to the ground and push into his tight ass. He was actually shaking with the effort to keep himself in check. By the time he broke the kiss, he was panting, as well.
Damien was in much the same condition. “Wow,” was all he said as they stood with foreheads pressed together, catching their breath. “I guess that answers my question.”
“Which one?” Will huffed.
“The one where I wondered if you could possibly miss me as much as I was missing you.” He grinned, his white teeth gleaming in the moonlight.
Will chuckled softly then took one of Damien’s hands and placed it against the spot where his hard dick strained against his worn fly. “Every fucking minute.”
Now it was Damien’s turn to chuckle and kiss him, which led to more long seconds in which they fought to consume each other. It was up to Will to find the strength to shut off the reunion. He tugged Damien down so that they were both sitting on the ground behind the shed, out of view. And if, hey, that meant creating a smaller footprint by having Damien sit on his lap? That was the price they had to pay for their covertness.
It was a stupid temptation, but Will couldn’t help it. Holding the boy, touching him, even in a non-sexual way, eased his worry. “What have you found out?” he made himself ask, because that was the purpose of his visit.
Damien relaxed against Will’s shoulder, the trusting gesture of affection pleasing Will enormously. “Well, the food here sucks. I mean it’s like the kitchen staff isn’t even trying to put something decent on the plate. I know they’ll say it’s hard to fix good meals for a large crowd but come on. I do it all the time at the club and… Jesus, have some pride in your work, people.”
Will smiled as he kissed the top of Damien’s head. “I mean, outside of the food service part.”
Damien sighed. “I know. It’s just… Everything here is so depressing. It’s easier to fixate on the crappy quality of the food than how sadly unhappy everyone is. The ‘campers’, I mean. The staff are mostly relentlessly cheerful and so goddamn smug that you just want to smack them. Except most of them are female, as it happens, so I’d never give in to that temptation. And they’re really good-looking too. Pretty and ultra-feminine in appearance. And stacked, you know? I guess the idea is to expose us poor, deluded homos to the real deal, hot women that are there for the taking if we can only shed our pesky perverse natures.”
Will was surprised by that statement. “You don’t mean these church-goers actually employ women to ‘service’ you?”
“Not in any overt way. We’re mostly learning all about how our bodies are temples that we must save for our future wives. No self-polluting, as they call it, and no premarital sex of any kind. But I get the feeling if I approached one of those women and asked her to help me ‘get over’ my gayness by giving me a hand job, she’d have me in the broom closet in record time.”
“Good lord, what a fucked-up place this is.”
“You got that right.”
“How are you holding up?” Will’s worry for his lover increased. He’d expected possible physical restraint or cold showers or the like to be employed in this awful place. Psychological torture could be far worse. Risking Damien had never been his first choice—or, any choice he’d make, for that matter. He’d been overruled, however, including by Damien himself.
“I’m fine, really. I know who and what I am, and I love myself as I am way too much to buy into any of their bullshit. Please don’t worry about me. We’ve had this conversation before,” he added with a pointed look.
Will barked out a soft laugh. “I know, and it’s impossible for me to stop fretting over your welfare, especially after everything you’ve told me about your past.” Revealing that was the verbal equivalent of his initial assault. He wore his feelings for Damien on his sleeve, no doubt about it. He found he couldn’t care much about that. It wasn’t as if he wanted to hide them from the boy. It was more that he couldn’t quite forgive himself for falling for another human, despite his internal vows not to do so.
Damien twisted his head enough to place a quick kiss on Will’s lips. “You’re very sweet. I promise you that I’m not at risk of buying into their nonsense. Now, do you want to hear what I’ve discovered? It’s not much.”
“Please.”
“Okay, so this place is just as advertised. Their focus is on converting those who want it, although I’m not convinced everyone here really wants to be ‘saved’. Sure, legally they’re adults and signed themselves in, but I get the sense that a lot of these boys were dragged here by their families and basically given an ultimatum—get ‘cured’ or get out. You know?”
Yes, Will did know.
“Anyway, as far as Congressman Asshat, excuse me, Congressman Warren is concerned, he and his wife—please call me Cathy—do keep an extensive suite of rooms on campus and have been here both days since I arrived. This is definitely their home base and a few office rooms in the main building are designated for their campaign, too.
“Both Mr. and Mrs. also do personal counselling for some of the boys. I’m not sure if either of them have any kind of degree, not that there is one that would be sanctioned for this conversion crap. Anyway, my roommate and personal guard, for lack of a better word, still sees Warren for his personal therapy.”
He wiggled his butt, trying to look at Will more closely, and didn’t that movement drive Will’s dick crazy? “The thing is, when he comes back from his nightly sessions, he’s kind of subdued and obviously unhappy. I know it’s only been twice since I’ve arrived, but I swear that kid is so beaten down afterward. And yet he keeps pretending that this is a great place…” He sniffed. “I’m worried about him. This isn’t good for him…or anyone.”
Will petted the boy’s head, much as he did with Annika when she needed soothing. “I promise you, baby, if there’s any way we can shut this whole shitty thing down, we will. All it takes is finding the right leverage.”
“Yeah, I know.” Damien swiped at his face to clear the moisture that had been gathering in his beautiful green eyes. “So, your, um, cousin? He’s also here, tags along with Warren like the way Babette sticks to Annika’s side. And no offense, but he creeps me the fuck out. Inside, he occasionally takes off his sunglasses, I think to scare the crap out of all the boys. Anyway, his eyes are nothing like yours. I mean, you have gorgeous Liz Taylor eyes and I could stare at them forever. On him, they just look dead.”
Damien shuddered with that pronouncement and Will hugged him closer. He was ridiculously pleased at the human’s praise of his eyes. “No offense taken,” he said in the silence, understanding that some response was necessary. “His nature is perverted, as we warned before sending you in. He has the temperament to do a great deal of harm. We must stop him before he does. Family honor and all that.” That was the official line for their checking up on Bran’s movements, and Damien did seem to buy it. Tremendous guilt ate at Will, nevertheless.
Damien shook his head. “I don’t understand how such a nice family could produce that evil-looking spawn. I guess that’s how it works sometimes. And he’s different than the rest of you in another way.”
“How so?” Will had a feeling he knew the answer already.
“Let’s just say he’s the perfect guy to be working security here, in that he has zero interest in the boys. There’s no gay gene there. The way he leers at the girls, staring at their racks and asses… Yikes!” He shuddered again. “If I had a daughter, I wouldn’t want that letch anywhere near her.”
Yes, as Petru had warned, Bran was different. Not pursuing human females had been the one point Dracul and Alex had agreed on. They were too hard-wired to view them in a certa
in way. Preying on them hadn’t been a real option. Of course, Dracul hadn’t cared about millions of females being hurt and killed through his machinations over the years. That kind of remote violence toward females was okay, apparently. It was the upfront and personal type that none of their crewmates could stomach, at least up until now. However Dracul had raised his son, Bran had decided to take a different path. The likelihood of their being able to contain the guy using Annika’s influence was diminishing, the more they learned.
“Okay,” he finally said, “this is good intel, useful. We should probably think in terms of getting you out of there tomorrow. I’ll come in the front door this time, pretending to be your boyfriend, and…”
Damien looked at him, a flash of hurt crossed his face. “Pretending?” He turned away in the next instant and tried to wiggle out of Will’s embrace. “Sorry, that was bitchy of me. I can be a needy little fuck sometimes. I’ve been working on it.”
Will silenced whatever else Damien might have said by pulling him hard against his chest, taking his chin in a firm, grip and putting the kid’s mouth right where he wanted it. This time when he kissed the human, he waited until they both convulsed, desperate for air, before releasing him.
Damien rested his forehead against Will’s chest and gasped like a landed fish. “Jesus, I guess I’m forgiven.”
Will squeezed him hard enough to make him squeak a little. “There is nothing to forgive. I expressed myself badly. What I meant to say is that I’ll pretend to be your outraged boyfriend, coming to collect you before they put stupid ideas in your head. Although frankly, I prefer the words ‘lover’ or ‘partner,’ as they typically say in Europe. I’m a bit old to be called a boyfriend.”
“Um, okay.” Damien smiled broadly. “Whatever works for you, I’m onboard with.” He dropped his gaze. “I’ve never been in a relationship before, not really. I don’t know the rules. I thought maybe I’d jumped the gun.”
Will shook his head slowly. “Not in the least. I haven’t been with anyone since Luuk, Annika’s father, died. I didn’t think I wanted another relationship. Being with you has changed my outlook.” He kissed the boy again, this time keeping it light and reverent. “You make me feel again, and that scares me.”
This was hardly the time and setting for such a heartfelt conversation, and he was acutely aware that he had no right to draw Damien any further into a relationship without revealing his true nature. But, like Damien, apparently Will was also ‘a needy little fuck’ because God, he couldn’t help himself.
Damien cupped Will’s cheek. “We’ll take it slow. I can appreciate how hard this is for you, and your being Annika’s father adds an extra layer of difficulty. I adore her, by the way. It’s hard not to. And you’re not so old.”
Now they were really treading on dangerous territory. You have no idea, he started to say, although he had no plan on how to end it.
“It doesn’t matter.” Damien gave him another quick kiss. “And I’m not going anywhere tomorrow. It’s only been two days. I need more time to learn anything that might be useful.”
Will knew that was what Alex wanted. He couldn’t shake the feeling that leaving Damien in this hideous place for much longer was dangerous. In fact, it was all he could do not to pick up the boy and race out of there.
“Okay,” he forced himself to say instead. “As long as you’re sure and take no chances. Don’t try to rifle through their offices or anything. We’re only looking for weaknesses and obvious information to use against Bran.” Clasping Will’s face with both hands, he stared hard at him. “When we said that Bran was dangerous, we meant it. Deadly so. Everything you think you see in his eyes is real. It is not your imagination. He has no moral compass. You are like a bug to him, and you can’t assume you’re safe simply because there are so many people around.”
“I understand.” A spark of fear showed in Damien’s eyes. Good, let him be afraid. Hopefully it would make him more careful.
Will nodded and expressed the sentiment. “Good.” Then he kissed him again and, damn, this time he didn’t stop. They ended up sprawled flat on the ground, Will grinding his pelvis against the human’s.
Until Damien pushed on Will’s chest hard enough to make him stop. “I-I can’t afford to climax in my pants,” the boy gasped. “If my roommate smells cum on me, I’m in trouble.”
Will grinned. “Then I’ll makes sure not to spill a single drop.”
He didn’t wait for Damien to react. He merely slid down and undid his lover’s fly. The hard cock sprang free the moment he had the zipper lowered. He wasted no time sucking it into his mouth and swallowing it all the way down.
He kept his eyes open as he lavished attention on the shaft, using his tongue to stimulate the underside. He cupped the balls with one hand while sliding his forefinger underneath to tickle the puckered flesh that his cock so hopelessly wanted to breach. To his delight, Damien slapped his hand over his mouth to muffle the moans he wasn’t successful in stifling. Will pressed the tip of his finger inside, crooked it and rubbed the bundle of hard flesh he found. Damien bucked up, giving Will the perfect leverage to swallow over and over again, his throat working that dick. When Damien let go, Will made good on his promise.
Chapter Seven
Val had started his nightly walkabout early that evening. Mackie was happily hanging with Annika—and Merlin, surprisingly—in the living area as part of their new nightly routine since Will spent nearly every hour surveilling the camp and meeting with Damien. They were watching that movie that made Val’s ears bleed, so he felt free to make his escape. He tried not to dwell on the hurt look on Mackie’s face each time he shut down his boy’s questions. He couldn’t tell his husband about what he was up to. This was his private time.
The calm that came from his DC Comics-like excursions was working wonders for all concerned. At least it had the potential for doing so. It made Val more relaxed, which Mackie should pick up on eventually, making him happier. He didn’t want to be a burden on Val and no amount of reassuring words was helping. Actually being in a good frame of mind should do the trick. But letting Mackie in on what he did at night definitely could make matters worse. Mackie would worry, even though there was no reason to. Val knew what he was doing. There was no risk to him, only to those he preyed upon.
He had to be careful for a while yet this night. There were still revelers milling about the streets, closing time for a lot of the bars having just occurred. It wouldn’t be that hard for someone to glance up and see him doing his Nightwing imitation. He’d been both careful and lucky so far. Those who had seen him up close had been drunk and-or homeless, so there were no cell phone recordings and no reliable witnesses. He knew he was taking a risk that would have Alex shitting screeching monkeys if he found out, but his activities had taken on an addictive quality, as well as being therapeutic to his husband’s condition.
There was a rhythm to it all now, even after just a few nights. He knew to rein in his journey, to stop and listen for sounds of someone in distress. It was actually a horrible indictment of the human race in general—and the city of Boston in particular—how many people needed help. There weren’t enough cops, obviously. Part of him wanted to seek out Duncan and apprise him of the situation but that was just his little bloody do-gooder lurking surprisingly within. The saner, logical part of him knew that not only did Duncan already know the state of his city but he was also unable to do anything about it.
Enter Val.
He found his fight quickly. As he crouched on a roof top somewhere in Chinatown, he caught the sound of a female whimpering pitifully. Another voice, a masculine one, followed. “Shut up. Don’t move, do as you’re told and maybe I won’t slit your throat when I’m done.”
Val didn’t wait to hear any more. He leaped over the edge and down in his now-familiar method of entrance. This time, he didn’t bother to scope out exactly what was happening and making sure, as he’d always done after the first time, that there was no one to see h
im do this inhuman feat. The woman who was in distress couldn’t wait for even a second more for him to come to her rescue. That it was a female in particular being attacked in an obvious way had his fury rising unchecked.
He found them seconds after he’d landed. The man had his victim pressed into the back corner of the alley. She was dressed for clubbing and so was he, except his attire came accessorized with a switchblade that he held up to her throat as he fumbled with his fly with his other hand. This was how the fucker had intended to end his evening the moment he’d left his home, do doubt. A consensual hook-up wasn’t his thing, apparently.
It didn’t really matter how he’d maneuvered her into this hellish, stinky alley. All Val cared about was that the fucker wasn’t going to get his way—and he wasn’t going to be able to ever do this again. Val had already decided the outcome without fully realizing it, probably because he’d simply had enough of human shit. Plus, given that the man wasn’t even trying to hide his face, Val was willing to bet the woman was supposed to leave this alley feet first and straight into the morgue.
He was on the guy in an instant, using his natural speed to reach him then grab him by both the back of the neck and the arm that held the knife. He brought it up and back to an unnatural angle, so that it snapped the bone. His quarry howled with shock and pain, and that was music to Val’s ears. As he pulled the man away, he told the woman, “Run!” She looked at him with wide eyes that were streaming with tears. She appeared to also be momentarily shocked and frozen in place.
He repeated his command a second time as he continued to drag the rapist to the other back corner of the alley. The woman finally reacted, sprinting as fast as her high heels allowed. Val waited until she’d cleared the mouth of the alley before slamming his opponent against the wall. He held him up off the ground, enjoying the way the guy’s legs flailed. Val’s gaze focused on the wild pulse at the base of the man’s throat. Thirst overtook him and he let his fangs descend, then grinned.
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