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Knives and Feathers
ISBN #978-1-78184-051-1
©Copyright Sage Marlowe 2012
Cover Art by Lyn Taylor ©Copyright July 2012
Edited by Sue Meadows
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination
and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or
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Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL,
United Kingdom.
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This
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This story contains 169 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book
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KNIVES AND FEATHERS
Sage Marlowe
They say that love can heal all wounds—even the ones that are self-inflicted?
When bestselling author Chester Banning requires inside information on the life of a forensic
pathologist, he comes across an enticing yet rather unwilling study subject in the shape of
sinfully attractive Dr Nicolas Sheridan.
After a hot and slightly unsettling one-night stand, Sheridan turns out to be as
inapproachable as he is intriguing but clearly not interested in intensifying the liaison.
Chester, however, finds himself falling head over heels in love and doesn’t rest until he’s
succeeded in cracking Sheridan’s icy shell. What he discovers underneath is a man who is
well capable of love and affection but who is caught up in a web of lies spun by his abusive
and possessive partner, Jake Simmons.
Led to believe that he is responsible for the death of his past lover, Sheridan’s sense of guilt
makes him tolerate the mistreatment he receives from Jake and seek punishment in self-
harm.
Will the love and support Chester can give be enough to help Sheridan free himself from the
demons that haunt him or is it all Chester can do to watch him go farther down the road to
self-destruction?
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Dedication
To inadvertent inspirations and, as such, the talented H—and K…
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following
wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Spider sense: Spider Man, Marvel Worldwide, Inc.
Wikipedia: Wikipedia Foundation, Inc.
Ladies and Gentlemen (Roll the Dice): Kasabian
Styrofoam: Dow Chemical Company
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Chapter One
Chester Banning was in a good mood. He loved it when things went according to plan
and, so far, everything had gone exactly as planned. Travelling had, as usual, left him with
lots of new impressions and a few ideas and the hotel he’d booked himself into was just the
way he liked it. Now all he needed to make the day perfect was a decent drink or two and
some less decent company.
He dressed in his favourite jeans and shirt, left the hotel and the day started going
downhill. It took him half an eternity to find a promising location and, when he finally did,
the place was far from his usual venue. It was dodgy and run-down, with a clientele to
match. Chester went to the bar anyway, ignoring the curious glances that checked him out,
and ordered a vodka martini. He met the bartender’s smirk with a smile and a shrug.
Awfully cliché, but still his favourite. Leaning on the bar, he took some time to scan the
crowd. He wasn’t too impressed with what he saw and was already halfway through his
drink and two-thirds on the way to just calling it a night and leaving when he spotted exactly
what he was looking for. Tall, dark-haired and dressed in clothes that had probably cost
more than the average weekly income of any of the other guys present, the man was as much
out of place as Chester himself. A perfect match. His most charming smile fixed to his face,
Chester leisurely walked to the quiet corner of the bar where the man sat, broodily nursing
his drink. He took a moment to study the profile in close-up and found he still liked what he
saw.
“Hi, there,” he said when he had waited long enough to be sure that the other man was
aware of his presence and must be expecting him to say something. “You had me wondering,
you know.”
A sharp inhalation of air was the only sign he got that the man had even heard him. Not
the reaction he’d hoped for but he decided not to let that stop him.
“I couldn’t help but notice you. Seems we’re both in the wrong place.”
At last the man turned his head and glared at him, making Chester flinch with the
indignant annoyance he displayed. Chester was pretty sure his gaydar had picked up the
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signals correctly, so maybe the guy was just a bit weary of being hit on. The way he looked
he could have had men queuing for a chance to chat him up if he made a little more of an
effort. His hair was a bit past the right time for a cut and he hadn’t bothered shaving but he
was undeniably handsome. A delicate bone structure with high, well-defined cheekbones set
the perfect frame for a pair of the most striking, silver-grey eyes Chester had ever seen. The
man rested those amazing eyes on Chester with an expression of stony amusement and a
hint of curiosity before he finally said, “You are definitely in the wrong place. A couple of
hundred miles considering your accent.”
Chester smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’m here because of my job. I’m a writer,
you see, and I’m doing some research for my new book.” Chester didn’t usually brag and
found it a bit cheap to rely on that line, but it had got him laid more than once before.
“Must be a brilliant book if it’s anything to do with this place,” the man grumbled
under his breath, his words dripping with sarcasm.
“Well, I hope it will be.” Chester held out his hand. “I’m Chester, by the way, and you
are…?”
“Not interested.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. My mistake. I didn’t realise you were bored. Maybe I can help you
change that,” he said smoothly.
Surprised, the man blinked and then, to Chester’s relief, his mouth curved into a
reluctant smile. He gave a tight, appreciative nod. “Nice one.”
“I really hope you’re talking about me.”
The man’s smile widened just a fraction as he gave Chester a quick once-over. He was
clearly trying not to let on what he thought but there was a giveaway glitter in his eyes. Just a
moment later, he shook his head. “You’re wasting your time.” He picked up his drink again,
a signal to Chester that he was dismissed.
“Too bad. I could’ve made it worth your while.” About to turn away, Chester hesitated.
He just couldn’t resist.
“By the way, considering your accent, you got misplaced by about four hundred miles
yourself. What is it? London, right? Somewhere in Norf London unless I’m very much
mistaken.” Probably followed by a rather expensive university.
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Something flared up in those grey eyes. It might have been regret or even hurt but it
was gone too fast for a definite identification. “Not bad.”
“Oh, come on, I deserve more than that. You didn’t exactly say much.”
“Finchley.” There was a trace of gloom in the sigh that made up these two syllables.
“Nice place,” Chester smiled. “I used to have a boyfriend up there.” No squirming at
the word. So I did have you right. Maybe we’re getting somewhere, after all. “Sure you don’t want
to change your mind, Mr Finchley?” Chester asked eventually.
The man took a sip of his drink before he focused on Chester again. “You still wanna
know if I’m interested in you.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“Well, it might brighten my prospects for the rest of the evening considerably if you
were.” Chester shrugged.
After a long, thoughtful pause, the man admitted defeat with a long, weary sigh.
“Depends on what you’ve got planned, I suppose,” he said.
Trying to figure out his tastes, Chester wondered which answer would score highest
with this handsome, fickle stranger. His assumption wasn’t really what he himself was in the
mood for, but he was happy to settle for second best if it meant a few hours of fun. He
decided on an answer that might give him another clue and yet leave options open.
“Planned? Nothing so far, to be honest. I prefer to…” Chester paused briefly for emphasis,
“…take it as it comes.”
One black eyebrow went up and Chester knew he had misjudged the guy’s preferences.
He grinned. “That is, take it as in I’m the one who gets to take what he wants,” he clarified.
A spark of amusement glittered in the grey eyes as the other man drained his glass and
set it down decisively. He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and took out a packet
of cigarettes and a lighter. “Cigarette?”
“No, thanks.” Chester was confused. Had he misunderstood after all?
The man shrugged and stood up, turning out to be even taller than Chester had
estimated. “I’m going outside for a cigarette now. When you’ve decided what you want you
can follow me and we’ll see if we want the same things.”
Not waiting for an answer he left, ignoring the heads that turned in his wake. Chester
went after him. Outside, the man lit a cigarette and looked at Chester. “Does that mean
you’ve made up your mind?”
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“There isn’t much to make up,” Chester said honestly. “Frankly, I think any guy would
be stupid not to take a chance at getting you into his bed.”
The man smirked. “That’s what you think?”
Chester nodded. “Sure. Besides, I like it either way. I just didn’t think you’re a bottom,
that’s all.”
“See, that’s why it’s usually best to just call things by their name rather than tiptoeing
around, trying to read people’s minds.”
“Speaking of which, what’s your name?” Chester asked.
Sighing, the other man shook his head. “You don’t need to know my name to fuck me,
do you?”
“No, I guess I don’t exactly need to know it. It would be nice, though.”
“Why don’t you just take me to this bed of yours and I might tell you afterwards?”
Chester wasn’t pleased but decided to let it rest for now. If the guy wanted to remain
anonymous, so be it. They were just in it for one night, anyway. “I’m staying at the Westside.
Do you know it?”
He got a frown and a nod for an answer.
“Anything wrong with it?”
“No, just… I know where it is. Let’s go. Got a car with you?”
“Uh-huh,” Chester nodded and pointed at the glossy black convertible parked on the
other side of the road.
Seemingly unimpressed, the other man dropped his cigarette and crushed it with the
heel of his boot. “Good. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”
“Don’t you want a lift?”
“Nope. Got my own ride.” He turned around and left Chester standing there without so
much as another glance. Chester watched him walk away and disappear around the entrance
to the car park and sighed. He was tempted to simply turn around, go back inside and find
someone else. Someone who showed a little more appreciation, preferably. If only that guy
wasn’t by far the most intriguing and desirable he had seen in a long time.
By the time he arrived at the hotel, he was seriously hoping that he wasn’t going to be
stood up. There hadn’t been any other car going in the same direction and it had taken him
well over ten minutes to get there. To his relief, he saw the tall, dark figure he was hoping for
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as soon as he pulled into the hotel’s car park. Smoking another cigarette, the man was
leaning on a huge black and chrome motorbike as he waited, long legs stretched out. Chester
felt his spine tingle. The scene oozed testosterone and could have been an advert, for all its
perfection.
“Beautiful,” Chester observed as he approached, leaving it open whether he was
referring to the machine or the man. The bike looked big and dangerous, the man even more
attractive yet unobtainable than before. Chester felt increasingly insecure.
“Thanks.”
“You got here fast.”
“One of the advantages of a motorbike.”
“I see. Are there any other significant ones?”
“Apart from the speed?” The man shrugged. “It just makes you feel good.”
Another cigarette died under the heel of his heavy biker boot as he reached out,
grabbed Chester by his jacket and pulled him closer with surprising strength. There was a
sexy rasp in his voice that hadn’t been there before when he added suggestively, “All that
power between your legs.”
Chester’s heart hurried to send more blood to that place between his own legs. “Like
that, do you?” Cupping one side of the man’s face with his hand to make him lower his head,
he stroked his fingertips over the light scrape of stubble. He noticed that those beautiful eyes
had turned into liquid silver in the moonlight, then their lips met and suddenly all that
mattered was satisfying the need that rapidly built inside him. Within seconds, their bodies
were pressed together, grinding and writhing in the hungry search for friction. The scent of
leather and cigarettes, mixed with that sexy smell of man, went straight to Chester’s head. No
matter how arrogant and difficult the guy was, his kiss more than made up for his attitude.
“Wanna get inside?” Chester invited.
“I thought we’d agreed that that’s your part, remember?” The other man grinned
lasciviously.
They went to Chester’s room, only just managing to wait until they were in its
confinement before they tore each other’s clothes off and tumbled onto the bed. Chester
would have been happy to take his time exploring and playing, but his lover had other plans.
After a few moments of kissing he shifted to his hands and knees, offering himself to Chester.
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“Are you going to fuck me at some point tonight?” he asked impatiently as Chester nibbled a
line down his spine, trying to remember where he’d put the lube.
“Why, getting desperate?” Chester teased and finally recalled leaving the tube on the
floor right under the bed in hopeful preparation. “I just think we should warm you up a bit.”
He spread some lube on his fingers and gently started approaching his goal.
“No need to. Just stick it in.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Chester warned.
“You won’t. Just do it.”
“Hold the thought for a second. I need to, uh, find a condom first. You don’t happen to
have one with you, do you?”
The man shook his head with an impatient sigh. “No. You?”
“I thought I did. I just can’t seem to find them.” He had packed them, right? Oh God,
please…
“Don’t bother on my account.”
Chester froze. That was something he didn’t like to hear and probably the only thing
that could stop him at this point.
“Not gonna happen, mate,” he grumbled, wondering if he should just kick this
beautiful, irresponsible idiot out.
“You won’t catch anything from me. I’m as clean as they come.”
“You could be the bloody Pope and I still wouldn’t fuck you bare,” Chester snarled.
“Honestly now, is that really the way you do it?”
The man sounded resigned as he said, “Relax, Mr Proper. I don’t usually do it without
and I am clean. I’m a… My job requires me to get tested so often the ink on my last result
hasn’t time to dry before the next one’s due. If you want to call it a night, okay. If you still
wanna do it, you’d better get started while you still can.” He indicated Chester’s wilting
erection with a quick, downwards flick of his eyes.
“Oh, what the fuck,” Chester sighed, relieved when he fished the desired foil packet
from the pocket of his discarded jeans. He still felt like he was throwing caution overboard.
“I just hope I won’t regret it.”
His cock didn’t need more persuasion than it took to get the condom on. Chester
positioned himself, still careful not to go too fast and give his lover’s body time to adjust. The
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other man was less considerate. As soon as Chester’s cock was inside him, he pushed back
impatiently, impaling himself on the hard length.
“Fuck, you are tight,” Chester groaned as he slid in. It was almost too much to bear for
him and he knew it must be near painful for the other man, who started moving after just a
few seconds’ hesitation, nonetheless. Chester met his movements reluctantly at first, but soon
his lover made clear what he wanted and Chester was pounding into him with all his
strength. Within minutes they were both covered in sweat and the room was filled with the
sounds of their passion, skin slapping against skin, husky grunts and groans as they raced
towards climax at a reckless speed. They crashed on the bed, spent, in a breathless, exhausted
tangle of limbs.
Chester pulled out carefully and got rid of the condom, wincing as he took it off. The
experience had left him oversensitive and aching and he knew his lover must feel it far more.
“Now I finally understand what topping from the bottom means,” Chester said, feeling
boneless.
“Regret your choice?” the other man drawled, sounding deliciously husky. He wriggled
out from underneath Chester and got up. Definitely not the cuddly type, Chester mused idly
as he watched him get dressed. Still, he was sexy as sin and Chester found him increasingly
fascinating.
He looked up and smiled. “No, definitely not, but, my, you’re pushy.”
His lover shrugged. “Nothing wrong with getting what you want, is there?”
“No, although you got me a bit worried. You’re probably going to feel this for a bit.
Sure I didn’t hurt you?”
“It’s okay. Nothing to lose sleep about.”
“You know, I’m going to be in town for a while,” Chester started cautiously. “We could
meet again.”
Already in his boots, the man picked up his jacket, looking at Chester as he shrugged
into it. “Right, we probably could meet again. I’m not interested in it happening on purpose,
though.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I guess I should wish you a goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight,” the man replied and left without a look back.
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Chapter Two
A few hours later, Chester’s good mood had returned. The episode with the sexy
stranger had left him a little puzzled for a while but, in the end, casual sex was still sex and at
least the night hadn’t been wasted. Although he wouldn’t have minded seeing more of the
hot guy, he was well aware that he was in town for a reason. The day ahead would certainly
be enough to get last night’s events out of his head.
He found the way to the hospital easily and tried to brace himself for what was about to
come.
“Good morning. Chester Banning. I’m here to see Dr Templar,” he told the cute blonde
receptionist.
“Oh, of course. She’s waiting for you.” She blushed prettily. “Um, Mr Banning, I was
wondering… Would you mind awfully signing this for me?” Reaching under her desk, she
pulled out a book and held it out to him. He instantly recognised the familiar cover and the
name printed across it in bold letters.
“Not at all.” Switching on his charm, he flashed a smile at her. “What’s your name,
gorgeous?”
By the time Dr Templar arrived to pick him up, the receptionist had turned almost
crimson and was giggling with delight. He treated her to another sunny smile then shifted
his attention to Dr Templar.
“Mr Banning,” she greeted, holding out a slim hand.
“Dr Templar. Thank you for seeing me.” Chester shook her hand, surprised when she
held on for the fraction of a moment longer than strictly appropriate. Somewhere in her early
forties, she was his senior by about a decade but still an undeniably attractive woman who
carried her beauty in the sort of manner that showed that she was well aware of it, and
expected to be treated accordingly.
“No problem. We’re proud that you’re interested in our hospital. I just hope you will
mention us in your book.”
“Oh, I certainly will,” Chester assured her.
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They briefly went over a few details of his stay as she walked him to his destination.
“Here we are,” she announced as they stopped in front of a large, uninviting steel door.
“Thanks again for this wonderful opportunity, Dr Templar. I really appreciate it,”
Chester said. “Are you sure your coroner won’t mind having someone constantly looking
over his shoulder?”
She grinned. “Oh, to be honest, he doesn’t even know you’re coming yet.”
“He doesn’t?”
“No.” She shook her head cheerfully. “He’s not going to be happy about it, so there’s no
need to make the others suffer his bad mood for longer than necessary.”
Holding the large steel door open for him, she waved her arm in an inviting gesture.
“Welcome to our department of forensic pathology, Mr Banning. This is Dr Sheridan. He’ll
be pleased to show you around and answer all of your questions.” Raising her eyebrows
meaningfully, she looked at the tall, dark-haired man who turned around after a moment,
unwillingly acknowledging their presence. The expression on his face as he shifted his
striking silver-grey eyes to Chester was priceless.
“What the fuck is this about?” he hissed and moved his furious stare on to Dr Templar.
She flinched but held her ground with a brave smile on her face.
“Dr Sheridan, this is Mr Chester Banning, the bestselling author. I’m sure you have
heard of him. Mr Banning’s next book features a coroner and he has asked for our help with
some of the finer details…”
“Spare me the crap, Molly.” Sheridan interrupted her irritably. “What’s this about?”
“As I said, he’s researching…”
“Not in my department.”
“But in my hospital. Maybe we shouldn’t discuss this in front of Mr Banning,” she said
stonily.
“Sod it, if you wanted to discuss it in private you should have bloody come to me
before!”
“Would you have agreed to it?” she asked pointedly.
Huffing, he rolled his eyes. “Of course not! I’m not a fucking babysitter and I’ve got
better things to do than…”
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“Oh, come on, Sheridan, it’s not as though any of your guests are going to complain if it
takes a bit longer,” she snapped. “Anyway, since your department is part of my hospital,
you’re doing as you’re told. He’s going to be here for the next two weeks as your shadow so
he can get a thorough insight into forensic medicine. End of discussion.”
Sheridan glared at her but apparently realised that she wasn’t going to back down.
“I’m going to give him a thorough insight all right,” he growled ominously. “We can
get started right away. I only just started on my latest guest.” Shooting her another angry
glare, he spun around and strode off down an adjacent aisle.
“That didn’t go down well,” Chester observed with a smirk.
She smiled up at him. “No need to worry. His bark is worse than his bite.”
“He doesn’t seem fond of the idea, though.”
“He’ll just have to live with it. Really, it would do the guy a lot of good to deal with a
living person once in a while,” she sighed. “Might teach him some manners.”
“Is he always like that?”
“No, usually his mood is a lot darker.”
“Must be fun working with him,” Chester said dryly, grinning when she sighed and
rolled her eyes.
“Why do you put up with him?”
She shrugged. “Because we’re lucky to have him. He may be a pain in the butt for living
people but he’s excellent when it comes to the dead. He’s one of the best forensic experts in
the country.” A faint smile appeared on her lips. “I’m surprised you don’t know that, seeing
as you asked to work with him.”
“It was my agent who arranged everything,” Chester admitted. “I’m only supposed to
be here, observe and be inspired—find my muse, so to speak.”
Templar grinned. “The thought is definitely appealing, although I’m not sure if Dr
Sheridan is up to being anyone’s muse.”
“Well, he certainly is inspired,” Chester joked just as he became aware of someone’s
presence behind him. Turning around, he found himself staring straight into Sheridan’s steel-
grey eyes. He swallowed nervously as he took in the cold, set expression on the other man’s
face and the ugly-looking saw in his hand.
“I’ll leave you to Dr Sheridan’s hospitality, then.” Templar shot him a wink and left.
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Chester held the cold grey stare for a few silent moments. “Doctor Sheridan, huh?” he
teased. “Gonna tell me your first name now?”
“Doctor,” Sheridan snapped and thrust a white lab coat at him. “Put this on. You can
look, but if you touch anything your hand’s going to get acquainted with this.” Raising his
hand, he waggled the saw.
“Does that include you?” Chester asked, curious to find out where he stood with his
lover of the night before.
Sheridan shot him an indignant stare. “I don’t think I’ll need this to protect myself from
you.”
“I didn’t realise you think you need to protect yourself from me at all.”
“Just keep your hands to yourself, will you?” Sheridan grumbled with an irritable sigh.
“Sure. Anything else I need to keep in mind?” Chester asked lightly.
“Yes. Leave the room when you need to be sick.”
“When? Not if? You seem to have very little faith in my digestive system.”
Sheridan took a breath as if to say something, but stopped himself. Then he turned
around and left, disappearing behind another stainless steel door. Several moments later, he
poked his head through the door, looking even more annoyed than before. “You coming or
what?”
Chester startled. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise…”
“You didn’t think I’d perform an autopsy out there, did you?”
“Um, honestly…?” Chester refrained from finishing the sentence. Slipping the coat on,
he hurried to make it to the door and beyond before Sheridan let it fall shut. As soon as he
had passed it, he became aware of an unpleasant smell. Faint and almost, but not quite,
overpowered by the biting chemical stench of disinfectant, it filled the room with its
sickening sweetness. The room Sheridan had led him into looked and felt clinically sterile
and Chester shuddered involuntarily as his eyes fell on the three tables that were lined up in
its middle. The nearest was occupied by a shapeless heap under a white sheet. Chester
swallowed, realising that he hadn’t really thought this part of the plan through.
Ignoring him, Sheridan attached a tray to the top of the table. It held some of the
meanest-looking medical instruments Chester had ever seen. He watched Sheridan put on
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gloves, thinking that maybe attending a real autopsy wasn’t such a good idea, after all. When
Sheridan finally pulled the sheet back, he knew it wasn’t.
The smell hit him with full, nauseating force, but far worse was the sight. He squeezed
his eyes shut but it was too late. His guts cramped, his stomach heaved and he knew there
was no way his suddenly rubbery legs could get him out of the room in time. The room
started spinning and he reached out blindly, grasping for something to hold on to as he
started retching. His flailing arms connected with something squidgy but unyielding and, for
one shocking second, he thought he had touched…it. Then he felt the warmth of a solid, very
much alive body and strong arms holding him upright as he desperately fought the waves of
sickness in his stomach.
“It’s okay,” a low voice whispered into his ear. “Just let it out.”
Unable to hold back any longer, Chester gave in to the overwhelming urge. Humiliated
beyond belief, he was grateful for the comfort the touch of a living, breathing human offered.
When it was over, he became faintly aware of Sheridan’s arms around him, his own head
resting on his chest. He listened to the regular thud of his heartbeat, silently enjoying the
warm, soothing contact with Sheridan’s body while he soaked up its strength, struggling to
recompose himself. Sheridan shifted, still supporting him but making him stand on his own
legs again. Realising how much of his weight he’d let Sheridan take, Chester felt even more
embarrassed.
“I… I’m okay,” he stammered. “I think.”
“So I see.” Sheridan sounded amused as he released Chester from his hold.
Chester swayed, but at least the room had stopped spinning. “I just wasn’t… I didn’t
expect… Well, you know,” he tried to explain.
“No, I don’t know.” The trace of concern had completely vanished from Sheridan’s
voice. He sounded even colder and more annoyed than before. “What the fuck did you
expect? We’re dealing with dead people here, not fluffy little guinea pigs.”
“Yeah, I know, I just…” Chester finally understood. Sheridan so obviously didn’t want
him around but couldn’t do much about it, apart from getting Chester to leave of his own
accord. He made an effort to sound unruffled.
“Well, fine, so you’ve proved your point. This,” he indicated the mangled mess of flesh
and bones on the table, “is a lot worse than your average dead guy, which I’m sure you
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know. So, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate if we could get this over with so the poor sod gets
to rest in peace soon.”
Sheridan looked at him stonily. “Sure. You might wanna clean this out first, though,
and put it in the bin over there.” He thrust a metal bowl into Chester’s hands.
“What…? Oh.” Cursing himself, Chester took the bowl. He hadn’t even noticed him
holding it but, of course, Sheridan wouldn’t risk having his meticulously clean floors
compromised.
“I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly and went to a nearby sink.
“Don’t worry, I’ve seen worse.”
“I’m sure you have.” Chester finished washing the bowl, put it in the wheelie bin
Sheridan had pointed at, then returned to Sheridan’s side. He arrived just in time to watch
Sheridan slice a huge cut through the corpse’s torso, or rather what was left of it. Predictably,
Chester’s stomach contracted again, painfully, but he did his best to ignore it. He had to go
through with this.
“What happened to him?” he asked quietly.
“Accident,” Sheridan answered curtly as he picked up the small electric saw and
switched it on. Chester quickly turned away and trained his eyes firmly on the wall. When
the gruesome sound of metal cutting through bone had stopped, he risked a cautious glance
at Sheridan and his guest.
“Oh. Yeah, I think that’s rather obvious. Poor sod. Was it…fast?”
“Was what?” Sheridan asked, sounding annoyed.
“Well…death. Only, with injuries like these, you’d hope that at least it’s all over fast,
wouldn’t you?” Chester realised that he was babbling. It was a desperate attempt to keep his
mind from really taking in the scene.
The glance Sheridan shot him this time didn’t need further interpretation. “If you want
to continue watching then do it with your eyes, not your mouth, okay?”
“I thought you were going to answer my questions, weren’t you?” Chester objected.
“How am I supposed to understand what’s going on if I’m not allowed to ask?”
Sheridan heaved a sigh. “Look, you’re going to get your bloody questions answered,
okay? Just not while I’m doing the autopsy.”
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“But…” Chester started but fell silent when Sheridan wordlessly pointed at a small
black voice recorder pinned to the breast pocket of his lab coat.
“Oh. I see. I’m sorry.” Realising at last that Sheridan hadn’t been stating the facts for his
benefit, Chester blushed.
“Use this so you don’t forget what you want to ask.” Sheridan indicated a clipboard
with his head and turned his attention back to the corpse without even looking at Chester,
making him feel like a silly little schoolboy who was hanging on to his big brother’s shirt
tails. He knew how to take notes, thank you very much.
Ignoring him, Sheridan was busily dissecting the body on the table. Reaching into the
dead man’s torso he took out one internal organ after another without batting an eyelid. He
placed each of them on a scale, stating their weight in his low but clear voice, then put them
into individual glass containers.
Chester forced himself to watch in silence. After a while it got easier. He managed to
see beyond the mass of human body and whatever solid obstacles fate had thrown into its
way and appreciate the cool, clinical precision of Sheridan’s motions. There was something
eerily soothing in the way his elegant, long-fingered hands brought order to the chaos.
Chester remained a silent observer until Sheridan had not only returned the dead man’s
body to its temporary steel grave but had rinsed and wiped the table and even put away all
his instruments. When he slid out of his lab coat, Chester was done being ignored. “Is that
it?”
“That’s it,” Sheridan confirmed.
“Good. Does that mean you’re going to talk to me now?”
Heaving a breath, Sheridan looked as if he was going to give another of his snappish
answers but changed his mind. “Go on then,” he said.
“Can I take you somewhere for lunch?”
“No.”
“Easy. No need to bite my head off. I was just thinking that maybe you’d like to grab a
bite while I run my catalogue of questions past you.”
“You can do that here. Or you can leave your questions here and I’ll write down the
answers for you. Besides, I’m not sure if it’s wise for you to eat now if you’re going to come
back here afterwards.”
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Chester sighed. “Okay, fine. I’d like a chat. Get to know you a bit better.”
“The answer is still no.”
“Why are you mad at me? Is it because you don’t want me here, or because of what we
did last night?”
“Keep it down, will you?” Sheridan snapped and cast a suspicious glance towards the
door. “Frankly, I don’t want anyone here. Why do you think I work with dead people? They.
Don’t. Talk. And, about last night, that should never have happened. Do us both a favour
and forget it ever did.”
“Why should I?” Chester challenged him. “I enjoyed it and don’t want to forget it. It’s
okay if you feel differently but there’s no need to be uncivil.”
“Am I interrupting?” A cheerful voice sounded from the door.
Sheridan started as if bitten. He spun around, looking like he was expecting to see a
particularly ugly specimen of insect. “Yes, you are,” he growled, not even bothering to
conceal his anger. “How many times do I have to remind you to ring the fucking bell before
you come in?”
“Oh, come on, Sheridan,” Dr Templar laughed. “It’s by far too good a way to get a rise
out of you. You look about to jump out of your skin every time I do it. Really cute.” Grinning,
she came closer. “Anyway, I’m not here because of you. I came by to ask Chester if he’d like
some lunch. What do you think?” She turned to Chester, ignoring Sheridan who still stared
at her frostily. “There’s a wonderful Italian restaurant just around the corner, unless Sheridan
has spoilt your appetite in his chambers of horror.”
“Actually…” Chester started but Sheridan cut across him.
“I think that’s an excellent idea, Molly. He could do with a change of scenery and some
food. Poor thing lost his breakfast within the first five minutes,” he added with a mocking
sideways glance at Chester.
“Oh, really?” She beamed a warm, compassionate smile at Chester. “Well, in that case, I
insist. Let me save you with the help of some of the most delicious pasta you’ve ever tasted.”
“Oh, uh, that’s really kind of you,” Chester accepted, knowing a lost cause when it
tapped him on the shoulder. He walked Dr Templar out and held the door open like the
gentleman he was, catching Sheridan’s amused glance as he did.
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“Bastard!” he mouthed across her well-cut blonde hair. Sheridan just grinned and
shrugged in a not-my-fault gesture.
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Chapter Three
“You’re right, the pasta is really delicious,” Chester praised forty minutes later, sitting
at a small, intimate table in a secluded corner opposite Dr Templar—Molly, as she insisted he
call her. He groaned inwardly. There was only one doctor he wanted to be on first-name
terms with and that wasn’t the one who was currently flirting her long eyelashes off. He
returned her smile, knowing he’d have to tell her the truth sooner or later.
“Oh, yes, it is, isn’t it?” Leaning in closer, she flicked her hair back to reveal her long,
smooth neck and trailed her fingers along the curve to the slopes of her cleavage. Chester
understood very well that this was meant to be an erotic gesture, but he preferred the angles
and stubbly roughness of a man’s throat.
“This isn’t the only nice place we have in this town, you know,” Molly said in a low
voice. “I could show you some more. Maybe tonight? Take your mind off all the horrible
things you have to see today.”
Oh, fuck, she’s seriously hitting on me, Chester thought. “Oh, um, that sounds tempting,”
he lied smoothly. “But we’d have to make that some other time. I’m afraid I’ll be busy going
through my notes tonight.” He smiled. “I don’t want to disappoint Dr Sheridan by not doing
my homework.”
“Oh, ha ha. Yes, of course, I understand. You’re here for work, after all.”
“Speaking of which, what’s the matter with the man?”
“Dr Sheridan, you mean?” She shot him a questioning glance. “As I told you this
morning, he’s a pain in the butt to work with but he’s excellent in his job.”
“I’m sure he is. Has he always been this…” he searched for the right word.
“Arrogant?” Molly filled in.
“Uncompromising,” Chester corrected and divided the last of the bottle of red wine
between them.
She shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. He only moved here two years ago but that
was before my time. Apparently he came highly recommended, though.” She took a sip of
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her wine. “I think that’s why my predecessor took him on. From what I’ve heard, Sheridan
quit his old job rather…abruptly.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
Chester looked at her for a moment, thinking. “Do you know where he worked before?”
“I’m not sure.” A frown appeared on her forehead as she tried to remember. “One of
the big, posh pathology labs in London, I think. As far as I remember, he’d only worked there
for a couple of weeks after he finished his degree. Top of the class apparently,” she added,
not sounding as if that was something that endeared him to her.
“Why did he leave?”
Her expression turned playfully guarded. “You’re really quite interested in him, aren’t
you?”
“Just trying to get a feeling for who I’m working with, Molly,” Chester said levelly and
raised his glass. He held her eyes for exactly that fragment of a moment longer than
necessary that he knew would make her feel flattered.
She smiled. “I don’t know why he quit, exactly. I heard a few rumours but the official
version is that he simply accepted a better offer. Head of the Department of Forensic
Pathology is a title he wouldn’t have achieved so early on in his career if he’d stayed in
London.”
“Forensic Pathology,” Chester repeated thoughtfully. “That means doing autopsies and
stuff to find out how someone got killed, right?”
“Essentially, yes.”
“And you need an entire department for that? I wouldn’t have thought that so many
people get killed up here.”
Still smiling, she gave a shrug. “Ah, well. I guess it sounds worse than it actually is. You
see, up here we really don’t have enough work to justify employing a forensic pathologist, so
he has to double as a clinical pathologist. That’s why his department is included in the
hospital. And calling him head of the department is a bit of a euphemism. He is the
department. Still, being offered such a position at only twenty-seven is quite extraordinary,
and with the degree he’s holding we’re lucky to have him.”
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“Twenty-seven?” Chester let out a low whistle. “That makes him… What, twenty-nine
now? He’s really quite young, isn’t he?”
She smiled and nodded. “Yep. Although, he’s hitting the big three-oh on Friday. A
couple of the nurses plan to throw him a surprise party. I don’t think it will go down well,
but who knows? It could be worth it just to piss him off. Are you coming?” There it was
again. That expression in her eyes that told him far too clearly what she had in mind.
“I’ll try.” He returned her smile and signalled for rescue in the shape of the waiter with
their bill. As much as he would have liked to milk her for more information about Sheridan,
Molly’s increasingly straightforward advances were beginning to creep him out.
* * * *
“Hey, honey, I’m back!” Chester called cheerfully as he returned to Sheridan’s
chambers of horror. He liked the title Molly had used during their chat and had already
decided to use it somewhere in his book. In spite of all the unwanted flirting, lunch had
turned out to be fun. Half a bottle of delicious red wine too early in the day and on an almost
empty stomach had left him in a recklessly good mood and, admittedly, horny. Maybe he
could just try hitting on Sheridan again.
He walked past the tall screen that served to shield the tables, or rather what was on
them, from the eyes of an unsuspecting visitor. The first thing he took in when he passed it
was Sheridan staring at him with wide, shocked eyes. The next was the big guy who stood
next to him. The expression on the latter’s face was almost comical in the way it tried to
display surprise, annoyance and humour all at once. He, too, was staring at Chester but
turned back to Sheridan who cast him a quick, apologetic glance. The two of them looked for
all the world like they’d been caught red-handed. Without the wine, Chester might have paid
more attention to the crackling undercurrents but, as it was, he was quite happy to focus on
what seemed like an ideal opportunity to pay Sheridan back for the thing with the dead guy
in the morning.
Slowly walking up to Sheridan’s side, he kept his eyes trained on the other man and
sized him up. A few inches taller even than Sheridan, he also outweighed him by about fifty
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pounds. His clothes stated him as one of the hospital’s paramedics, so he had probably taken
an extended break after delivering a new arrival.
Chester slipped an arm around an astounded Sheridan’s waist. “So that’s the reason
you wouldn’t go to lunch with me, huh?” he asked casually, still looking at the paramedic
but talking to Sheridan who had gone rigid in his hold. That served the bastard right. “I
totally understand, you know. I just wish you’d told me.”
The paramedic’s expression turned thunderous but Chester ploughed on, watching
Sheridan from the corners of his eyes. He was faintly aware that something was a little off,
but he was feeling nicely tipsy and quite mellow and just couldn’t be bothered to try to get a
grip on himself. “What a hunk. Wanted to keep him all to yourself, didn’t you? Is he the
reason you left so soon last night?”
That did it. Sheridan changed colours and sucked in an audible breath. “Jake, it’s not…”
he started but the big guy cut across him harshly.
“We’re going to talk about this tonight. I finish at seven and you’d better be home by
then.” He left with a brief, murderous glance at Chester.
Chester removed his arm from Sheridan’s slender waist and stared at the door, puzzled.
“What was that?” he asked after a few moments.
“That,” Sheridan said quietly, “was my partner.”
“No shit.” Chester gasped in surprise. “Really?” He laughed and raised his eyebrows.
“Partner as in…?”
Sheridan answered the question with a tight nod.
“Sorry, man. I thought he was just a paramedic staying for a chat. I only wanted to
wind the two of you up a bit.” Taking in Sheridan’s pale face, he felt sympathy rising inside
him, hand in hand with guilt. He’d been curious to find out how short Sheridan’s fuse was,
he hadn’t meant to blow up his domestic bliss. “You’re not gonna be in trouble, are you? Do
you want me to talk to him and explain?”
“No!” Sheridan snapped. “No,” he repeated, less passionately. “I’ll deal with him
tonight.”
“Look, I’m sorry. Really,” Chester said earnestly. He was sobering up and quickly
coming to realise that maybe his joke hadn’t been such a good one. “We had some wine with
the pasta and, uh, it seemed like a funny idea at the time.”
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“Just forget about it.” Inhaling deeply, Sheridan squared his shoulders and drew
himself up to his full height. He looked as if he was preparing for a fight. “I’m out for a
cigarette break. Don’t…”
“Touch anything. Yeah, I know.”
When Sheridan returned several minutes later, he was his usual self again but smelt like
a whole packet of cigarettes.
“Everything okay?” Chester asked softly.
“Sure. Did you have a nice lunch?”
Chester pulled a face. “Nice isn’t really the word for it. Molly seems to, well, let’s say
she showed a certain interest in me.”
“You ought to be nice to her. You stand a chance of becoming her next boy toy.”
“Funny,” Chester shot back, finding it anything but.
The ghost of a smile crossed Sheridan’s beautiful face. “True, though.”
“Why’s that?”
“She likes her men young. Chased me around for months when I started here.”
“Really? Can’t blame her, I must admit. Did she succeed?” Chester teased.
Sheridan rolled his eyes. “No. I’m gay as you might have noticed.”
“I have, but so am I, as you probably noticed seeing as, well, what we did. What makes
you think I’d be interested in her?”
“I just… Oh, forget it.” Sheridan looked as if he wanted to add something but instead
he just put on a fresh lab coat and continued working on the corpse, leaving Chester in
bewildered silence. For the rest of the afternoon, Sheridan remained stubbornly
monosyllabic. He let Chester watch but didn’t volunteer any information other than his own
notes, which he dictated to the small recorder in a flat voice. Even Chester, a complete
outsider, could tell that he was merely going through a routine without really thinking about
what he did. Each of Chester’s attempts to start a conversation fell on stony ground.
“That’s it for today,” Sheridan said quietly as he pulled the sheet over the body he’d
sewn back together.
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“Want a hand cleaning up?” Chester offered. After the rather disastrous morning he
had learnt quickly. The smell, although still disgusting, had stopped getting to him quite so
much and he had become almost used to the sight of dead people’s leftovers being examined.
Sheridan shook his head. “I got it.” He grabbed the table with its deceased occupant
and wheeled it to the storage area.
“Think you’re going to be in trouble?” he asked softly when Sheridan led him outside,
carefully locking the door behind them.
“Don’t lose your beauty sleep about it,” Sheridan said lightly but didn’t meet Chester’s
eyes.
“I won’t, just… Are you going to be all right?”
“Sure.” Sheridan ushered him out impatiently then turned away and left.
Chester stared after him until he had disappeared around a corner. Something was off,
his spider sense shouted at him, but there was nothing he could do. Sheridan was a big boy,
he could handle himself.
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Chapter Four
The next day found Chester waiting in front of a locked door. He was almost half an
hour late anyway but Sheridan was nowhere to be seen. He paced for another ten minutes
then gave up and went to see Molly in her office. She looked disturbingly delighted to see
him.
“Sheridan’s not here,” Chester said.
“And a wonderful good morning to you, too,” Molly answered sarcastically. “I know,
he called in earlier. Said he’d taken some reports home with him because he needs to prepare
himself for a testimony in court. Didn’t he tell you yesterday?”
“No, he didn’t,” Chester replied with a feeling of apprehension rising inside him. And
Sheridan hadn’t taken any reports with him, either.
“I’m sorry. I thought he told you. He really should have. You could have gone through
your notes today then instead of last night.” She twisted a strand of her hair around her
finger playfully. “But, then again, this means that you’re definitely free tonight, so I can take
you out to this beautiful restaurant I discovered only last week.” Batting her eyelids, she
looked up at him hopefully.
“Molly, I’d love to but I can’t. I’ve got a conference call with my agent scheduled for
tonight, which is going to take a while. She’s currently in the States, you see,” he explained.
“Oh. Too bad.” She shrugged it off. “Maybe another time, then.”
“Definitely,” Chester smiled and left, wondering what was going on with Sheridan.
* * * *
An annoying sound finished Chester’s dream for him. He tried to ignore it, but it was
persistent. When he was awake enough to realise it was his mobile phone, he opened his eyes
and answered unwillingly.
“Banning,” he grunted sleepily.
“Wanna go see a crime scene?” a husky voice asked him.
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“Huh? What?” Chester jerked fully awake in an instant.
“Wanna go see a crime scene?” the voice repeated.
“Sheridan, is that you?”
“Who else would ask you that? The killer?”
“Uh, okay. Where?”
Sheridan gave him the address along with a brief description of how he could get there
and hung up abruptly.
When Chester left his room a few minutes later he was mostly awake but still confused.
* * * *
The crime scene wasn’t easy to identify. Chester didn’t know what he’d expected,
exactly, but somehow it shouldn’t have been so…normal. Just two police officers in uniform
guarding the entrance to a narrow, sparsely lit alley.
They looked at him levelly, probably thinking he was just an innocent passer-by.
“Good morning, officers. Chester Banning, I’m here to meet Dr Sheridan.”
“Go on, he’s expecting you,” one of the officers said and stepped aside to let him pass.
“Thanks.” He walked down the alley, wondering what was waiting for him. Someone
had been killed and he was going to see the victim in a few minutes, but that concerned him
far less than seeing Sheridan again so unexpectedly.
Another uniformed police officer watched his approach suspiciously. He said
something to the man who was kneeling a few feet away from him. The man barely
interrupted his work and nodded briefly.
“Good morning,” Chester greeted the two of them. The policeman replied with a smile.
Sheridan didn’t even turn his head. In other circumstances, Sheridan on his knees in a quiet
alley would have inspired uncouth thoughts in Chester. Dressed in washed-out jeans and the
boots Chester remembered from their first meeting, the only thing that looked professional
about him was the dark blue jacket with the word ‘Forensics’ printed on the back in big
white letters.
“You wanted to see me?” Chester went to stand by his side.
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“No, but the Templar Knightmare told me to ask you to come,” Sheridan snapped. The
policeman quickly turned his laugh into a cough when Sheridan glared at him.
“Oh, I see. You okay?” Chester asked quietly, hoping Sheridan would understand the
concern behind the question correctly. He looked him over discreetly. Sheridan hadn’t
shaved again and his hair was a mess but Chester realised he probably looked the same. It
was only five in the morning, after all, and Sheridan would have had even less time to get
ready than he had. Other than that, Sheridan looked his usual, irritable self. He sounded it
too.
“Sure,” he said curtly. Chester sighed. The man remained unapproachable. He tried to
focus on his reason for being there, the young woman lying on her back in front of Sheridan.
One look at the tangled, dirty mess that was her hair was enough to make Chester glad that
Sheridan was shielding most of her head with his own body.
“Do you know what led to her death?”
Sheridan turned his head and stared at him, silver eyes mocking him, but he didn’t
smile. “In my experience life leads to death. No, seriously, this isn’t some fucking TV series.
In reality, we don’t just look at the dead guy to know what happened. It takes a bit more than
that. And, just so you know, I don’t investigate or hunt down suspects, either. If you want
that kind of fun you’re gonna have to look elsewhere.”
“Easy, sunshine, don’t bite my head off. Not my fault I only just arrived.”
“Yeah, and not my fucking wish that you did, either.” Sheridan scowled at the police
officer who promptly turned his head, pretending not to hear, and went several steps back
into the direction of his colleagues to give them privacy.
Chester swallowed. Maybe he’d been lucky that Sheridan hadn’t stayed the other night
if that was his usual mood in the morning.
“I have something that might change that,” he said lightly. “Coffee?” Glad that he had
found the all-night coffee shop in passing, Chester held out the styrofoam cup to Sheridan in
a silent peace offering. Sheridan looked up, surprised.
“I didn’t know what you like so I brought you plain filtered coffee rather than any of
the fancy stuff,” Chester said softly.
“That’s… Fine.” Blinking, Sheridan took the cup. “Thank you,” he added politely after a
moment.
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“It’s okay.”
Sheridan stared at the cup in his hands as if he didn’t really know what to do with it
then took a cautious sip. He closed his eyes in silent appreciation and inhaled deeply. “Gosh,
that’s good,” he sighed and cast an unwilling glance at the dead woman. “I guess she won’t
mind if I drink this first.”
Getting up, he winced mid-motion. He tried to cover it up but Chester, who was
watching him closely, noticed it anyway.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just… Being on my knees first thing in the morning does get to me a bit,”
Sheridan explained smoothly and took out his cigarettes. Chester didn’t point out that
Sheridan was obviously favouring his right side, keeping his arm close to his ribcage as if
moving it hurt. He waited until Sheridan had sucked in some apparently much-needed
nicotine before quietly asking, “What happened?”
Sheridan looked at him and, for a brief moment, his eyes were unguarded. The
exhaustion and pain in them knocked Chester back but the moment passed before he knew
how to react. Closing up again, Sheridan looked back at the dead woman. “She died.”
“Oh, well, I thought so.”
A faint smile curled Sheridan’s mouth. “Hooker. Looks like her last trick didn’t want to
pay for her services. Either that or they played a game that went seriously wrong.” He
dropped his cigarette and instantly lit another, inhaling deeply. “She was strangled. Mid-
service, from the looks of it.”
“You mean he…did it while…?”
“He did her,” Sheridan finished for him and shrugged. “Happens.”
“And what game do you think they played?”
“Oxygen deprivation.” Catching Chester’s glance he smirked and added, “Suffocation.”
“Oh. Urgh. Are you serious?”
Sheridan shrugged. “Some guys get off on it.”
“Yes, but I thought it was them who… You know.”
“It works both ways, I guess,” Sheridan said levelly and finished his coffee. “Thanks
again for that.”
“You’re welcome. Seems like you needed it.”
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“You’ve no idea.”
Sheridan remained uncharacteristically docile for the rest of the time they spent at the
crime scene.
“Want me to answer your questions today?” he offered unexpectedly when Chester
finally arrived at the morgue. Having taken his motorbike as usual, Sheridan had probably
arrived quite some time ahead of Chester, who had once again cursed the web of narrow
one-way streets the town seemed to be made of. Holding a pile of folders and files, he leafed
unenthusiastically through some of the documents they contained.
“Yes, absolutely, that would be great. Then I’ll have something to work on tonight,”
Chester said, delighted.
Sheridan sighed with relief. “Good. That gives me the excuse to postpone filing these.
There’s nothing as annoying and tedious as paperwork. Do you mind if we go outside so I
can smoke while we talk?”
“Not at all.” He followed Sheridan to a small area right next to the fire escape. Sheridan
lit a cigarette and looked at Chester. “Okay, then. Fire away.”
“What made you want to become a coroner?”
“Forensic pathologist.”
“Huh?”
“I’m not a coroner. Forensic pathologist is the correct title.”
“Oh. What’s the difference?”
“Basically that a coroner deals with the official stuff while a pathologist gets to do the
fun part.”
“Fun part? Autopsies, you mean?”
Sheridan nodded with a cute, lopsided grin.
“I see. So why did you want to be a, uh, pathologist and not a coroner?”
“I prefer working with dead people.” He didn’t bat an eyelid and Chester had the
disturbing feeling that he was serious. Dead serious, so to speak. “You know, some people
say we deal with the physically dead while the coroners have to put up with the brain-dead.”
“Who says that?”
“Not the coroners.”
“I see. How do you become a pathologist?”
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“Study hard, train harder and eventually you get a diploma and can start working.”
“Can you tell me a bit more about that?”
Sheridan let out a soft chuckle. “Are you serious?”
“About what?” Chester frowned.
“Is that what you want to ask me about? Job training?”
“Why not? You’ve done it, so you must be able to tell me, or is it a problem for you?”
Sheridan smiled. “Not at all. I’m just trying to imagine what Molly would say if she
knew that you’re making me the best-paid career counsellor in the country. If that’s the kind
of information you want for your story you could’ve just looked it up.”
“Where?”
Sheridan shrugged. “Wikipedia. They can probably tell you better than I ever could.”
“Ha ha.”
“Seriously, you’re not going to write about job training anyway, are you?”
“Probably not,” Chester admitted. “And I don’t actually need to know anything about
it, either. I just thought you might prefer it if we started with simple questions.”
“Whoa. Now you’re making me curious. Go on, what do you really want to ask me?”
Why the hell you’re going out with that dickhead might be a start. Chester sent that train of
thought back to the station and hopped on to another, more professional one.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Why did you choose that line of profession at all? Why not
become a, say, ordinary physician? Again, because of the dead people?”
Sheridan considered the question for a moment. “Not initially, no.” He grinned
boyishly. “It was a bet.”
“A bet? It’s a bit drastic to base your career on a bet, isn’t it?”
Sheridan shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m a man of honour, so I went through with it.”
“Please tell me you lost,” Chester groaned.
“I did.”
“Who comes up with such a bet?”
“That was…a friend.” Unexpectedly, a tender, somewhat melancholic smile softened
Sheridan’s features.
“How drunk were you?”
“Quite,” Sheridan admitted with a grin.
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“What did you bet on?”
Sheridan held up his hands. “I’m afraid that’s a bit too personal to tell. Besides, I don’t
want to risk this story ending up in your book.”
“Oh. Too bad.” Chester grinned, trying not to let his imagination run wild. “Most
people say the opposite, you know.”
“About what?”
“A surprising amount of people ask me to write something about them or even base a
character on them.”
Sheridan looked bewildered. “Why would they want that?”
“I guess it makes them feel special.” Chester shrugged.
“Do you do that? Base your fictional characters on real people?”
“Sometimes. When I meet someone who inspires me, I’ll use them in a story.”
“So what about the ‘all characters are fictional’ line?”
“Well, that is every author’s first and last line,” Chester said dryly.
“I see.” Sheridan’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “I hope you’re not planning on
basing anyone on me.”
“I don’t think so. I just want to pick your brains a bit.”
Sheridan kept a perfectly straight face. “I do hope you mean that figuratively.”
Chester shuddered. “Oh, gosh, that really was a gross thing to say given our
surroundings.” He pulled a face, pleasantly surprised when Sheridan actually laughed.
“Go on, then. Pick away.” Stifling his laughter, Sheridan lit another cigarette.
“Now that I’ve come up with the image I think I’ll just stick with the topic,” Chester
said. “Autopsies. Are there any interesting or curious anecdotes you can tell me?”
“Anything worth writing about, you mean?” Sheridan wrinkled his forehead
thoughtfully. “There certainly are, but I’ll have to think about it, I’m afraid. Maybe you could
give me a clue what you’re looking for.”
“Hmm. How about, what was your worst autopsy?”
“A six-month-old victim of severe sexual abuse.”
“Oh. Phew. That’s just…horrible.” Chester needed a moment to digest this. “Incredible
what some people are capable of doing. I’m sorry to have brought it up, that autopsy must
have been really awful, I assume.”
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“Yes.” Sheridan sighed. “Yes, absolutely. Makes you wanna go after the sick fuck who
did it with a knife and see how he takes to that.”
“Did they get him?”
“Yep.”
“I bet that is a good feeling.”
Sheridan shrugged. “Nothing I deserve any credit for, though. I just attended when I
was still in training.”
“Didn’t it, uh, put you off the job?”
“It did,” Sheridan admitted gravely. “It was the first and probably only time I seriously
considered not going through with it, but in the end I decided that these things happen,
regardless of me seeing them or not. If one day I can be the one who contributes to getting
one of these bastards behind bars, then that’s worth it.”
“Good point. What was the worst autopsy you did yourself?”
Sheridan thought about it for a moment. “I suppose that would be the guy who topped
himself and wasn’t found for three weeks.”
“Ugh.”
Smirking, Sheridan nodded wordlessly.
“What… How did he do it?”
“Put a bullet through his brain.”
“Eow.” Chester frowned, thinking. “Why the autopsy? Isn’t the cause of death clear in
such a case?”
“Not necessarily. He might have been under the influence of drugs or it could even
have been arranged to look like a suicide. Anyway, if it’s a violent death, the coroner wants it
investigated and I perform an autopsy.”
“So was it? Suicide, I mean?”
“Yep.”
“And no one missed him for three weeks? Sounds like he didn’t have a lot of friends if
no one missed him any earlier.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t missed. He just wasn’t found. The part of the basement where he
did it was apparently not too popular with the tenants.”
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“He shot himself in the basement? Pretty inconsiderate to leave others to clean up your
mess just because you don’t get your life sorted out, isn’t it?”
Sheridan looked at him thoughtfully. “Takes guts to do it, though.” There was a strange
expression in his eyes. It was almost admiring. “Just pulling the trigger, fast and clean.
Putting an end to all your troubles once and for all.” He shrugged. “Must be bloody hard to
make that decision.”
Chester held his gaze levelly. “No, I don’t think so. I think if, for whatever reasons, your
life is so bad that ending it seems the best solution, then carrying on is the harder decision.”
“You really think so?”
“Sure. It takes more guts to face your demons than to give in and just let them drag you
down.”
Sheridan raised his eyebrows. “You know, I’ve never really thought about it that way.”
He dropped his last cigarette butt, the third in about ten minutes, and crushed it with his
heel. “Let’s go back inside, shall we? We can talk some more but I don’t want to keep Miss
Hooker waiting much longer.”
Sheridan remained pleasant and chatty throughout the day and even the next. He still
refused to go out for lunch with Chester, though, claiming that Dr Molly Templar was much
better company and grinning mockingly when Chester rolled his eyes at him upon his
return.
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Chapter Five
Friday morning, Chester woke feeling like a child on his first school day. He had
tracked down the group of nurses who were planning Sheridan’s surprise party. They had
turned out to be a charming bunch who had welcomed him instantly and confided their plan
to him. Not very originally, they were going to turn the staff room into a party zone and
simply make Sheridan stay, ready to employ drastic measures if necessary, as Sally, a cute
young nurse with dimples and a freckled nose, had told him. A vital part of the plan
apparently was to get him drunk to find out if that would cheer him up.
Hoping that Sheridan would actually appreciate the effort they were making, Chester
tried hard not to give away anything during the morning, so he was relieved when it was
time for his lunch appointment with Molly. She seemed almost as excited by the prospect of
the party, although Chester strongly suspected that she had set her guns on him. He still
didn’t know why she had stopped chasing Sheridan or if she knew that he was gay, but he
didn’t intend to betray that piece of information to her.
Returning from lunch, he was still in a good mood when he entered Sheridan’s
chambers of horror. He walked past the shielding wall and stopped dead. Nothing could
have prepared him for the sight. Sheridan was bent over the nearest examination table,
naked from the waist down. Behind him stood Jake and the powerful jerks of his hips were
an exact indication of what he was doing.
He held Sheridan’s right arm by the wrist, twisting it upright at a painful angle in a
very efficient restraining hold while pressing his head down on the table with the other
hand.
“Fuck!” The curse was out before Chester could stop himself. Jake stopped moving
mid-motion and turned his head to stare at him, tightening his deadlock grip on Sheridan’s
wrist.
“Oh, we’ve got a spectator.” He grinned coldly.
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Chester swallowed and desperately fought the instinct to just run across the room and
punch the grin right out of his beefy face. Instead he forced himself to ask a far more
important question. “Sheridan? Are you okay?”
“He’s fine,” Jake answered levelly. “Having a real good time, as you can probably see.”
Flexing his hips, he pulled out almost all the way, giving Chester an eyeful of his impressive
size, then slammed back all the way into Sheridan’s body. Sheridan acknowledged the stab
with a pained yelp and took each of the following deep thrusts with a grunt. Ignoring his
obvious discomfort, Jake didn’t even give him time to catch his breath.
“Sheridan! Talk to me,” Chester growled. “Please tell me you want that or I swear I’ll
get that bastard off of you!”
Jake’s grin widened. “Yeah, bet you’d like that. Be the hero that comes rushing to the
rescue. Nice speech but it’s wasted on him. It doesn’t matter to him. You don’t matter to him.
He doesn’t even know you’re here.”
“Why?”
“Because I am all that matters to him. I’m all that has ever mattered to him. He belongs
to me, and only me.”
Chester was horrified. “What have you done? God, what are you doing to him?”
“I’m sure you, ah, know the answer to that,” Jake growled. His voice had gone tight
and Chester had been with enough men to know that he was close. Very close. A few hard
thrusts later, Jake shuddered and let out a satisfied groan, cock buried deep inside Sheridan’s
body. He took a few breaths to steady himself then turned to Chester again. “The question is,
what did you do to him?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know you fucked him, he told me. But did he give it up to you? Could you make him
come?” Leaning forwards, he pushed Sheridan’s arm up further while driving his groin
harder into the steel table, a motion that would certainly increase the pressure on Sheridan’s
trapped cock painfully. “Come,” he growled into Sheridan’s ear. Chester heard Sheridan’s
gasp as his body obediently leapt into climax. He shuddered through it, then went limp in
Jake’s merciless grip. Grinning, Jake released him and pulled out. “This, Chester, is how you
fuck Doctor Sheridan right into oblivion. Just remember that I’m the one who does it.”
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He pulled his trousers up, ignoring Sheridan, who was still bent across the table, held
by an invisible bond. A small trickle of sticky white liquid was running down his leg and
dripping to the floor, where it pooled by his foot. Jake watched Chester staring at Sheridan
for a moment. “Get up, Nicky. We’re done for now.”
Sheridan moved slowly, as if he had to force his muscles to respond. He looked at
Chester and blinked, utterly confused. He really didn’t know I was here, Chester realised.
“Chester? What…?” Sheridan started but Jake cut across him gruffly.
“He came to admire what he can’t have. You are mine, Nicky, and you’re not going to
forget that again, do you understand?”
“Yes,” Sheridan answered meekly and Chester wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d
added a ‘Sir’.
“Now clean yourself up and go back to work. I’m on shift tonight but that’s no excuse
for you to do anything stupid, got it?”
Sheridan nodded, shakily doing up his jeans. He looked flushed, confused and utterly
mortified.
Neither of them spoke for a long while after Jake had left. Chester simply didn’t find
any words, a first for him, and Sheridan was understandably not keen on starting a
conversation, either. Taking the first step, Chester gave him the chance to let the matter come
to rest. “Do you want me to invite your next guest in?” He had joined Sheridan in his
humorous but never disrespectful handling of the guests, not corpses.
Sheridan had flinched at the first words but now, taking in what Chester had said, he
nodded, visibly relieved. It was a sure sign of his state of mind that he actually let Chester go
and get the corpse. Usually he wouldn’t let him anywhere near them, sticking firmly to his
don’t-touch-anything policy.
When Chester returned Sheridan stared at him with troubled eyes. “I’m not sure what
to say about…what happened,” he whispered.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Chester answered softly. “In fact, I think I’ll just
leave you to it. I think by now I’ve got a pretty good idea what you’re going to do, so I’d like
to use the chance to catch up with my writing before I tackle the drive back to London
tomorrow.” It was a very obvious excuse but Sheridan nodded gratefully and turned his
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attention to the elderly lady under the sheet. Chester watched him for a moment, then left
him to deal with the dead woman on the table and the very undead demons in his head.
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Chapter Six
“Chester, dear, there you are at last!” Chester was only halfway through the door when
he found himself holding an armful of scented, half-naked woman. Molly had clearly been
waiting for his arrival, desperate to claim him as soon as he arrived so that none of the other
women present had a chance to make a pass at him. Chester grinned. Poor thing. The male-
to-female ratio was one to four as it was, with at least two of the former not even interested
in the latter.
“Hello, Molly. Sorry I’m a bit late,” he smiled. “I was working on my script and lost
track of time.” In truth he had already been halfway back to London when he’d decided to
double back and go to the party after all. He didn’t want to mull over his reasons for that too
much. Part of him was still nursing a forbidden, but persistent interest in Sheridan’s body—
part of him just wanted to be there to protect him in case Jake turned up and kicked up a
fuss.
He jumped when a glass was impatiently shoved into his hand. Molly. Of course. She
was obviously well aware that this evening would be her last chance to try taking her
acquaintance with Chester to a horizontal level. Ignoring her flirtatious smile and the fingers
lingering on his arm, he asked, “Is the birthday boy here yet?”
“Sally and Nina just went to get him,” Molly informed him while discreetly trying to
steer him into a quiet corner of the room.
“Oh, dear. Are you sure they’re up to the task?” Chester laughed at the idea of five-foot
tiny Sally dragging an unwilling Sheridan across two floors.
“Looks like it,” she grinned and pointed at the door. Nina was just rushing in, mad
curls bouncing merrily, and gave them a signal to remain silent.
Sally entered, a thunderous-looking Sheridan towering behind her. “Where the fuck
is…?” Taking in the small crowd, he stopped dead, for the second time that day stunned into
silence.
“Surprise!” Sally and Nina chorused merrily and spun around to be the first who
offered their congratulations. Sheridan accepted their hugs and kisses with an embarrassed
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expression on his face, visibly uncomfortable with being the focus of attention. For someone
who spent his days working mostly alone and snapping at the few people who dared enter
his lair, Sheridan was very popular, Chester noticed. That was probably mostly down to his
handsome exterior, which would also be the explanation for all the female staff members
currently crowding him.
Waiting patiently for his turn, Chester watched the others congratulate Sheridan. Quite
a few of the female staff seized the chance to feel him up a bit, which Sheridan tolerated with
the same stoic expression he’d displayed when answering Chester’s questions.
“Happy birthday,” Chester said when Sheridan noticed him at last.
“Thank you.” Sheridan beamed a smile at him before his expression turned sombre. “I
thought you’d left for good,” he said quietly.
“Oh, no. I didn’t want to miss this raging event.” He gave Sheridan a quick,
uncompromising hug. If he wasn’t out at work, Chester certainly didn’t want to be the one to
change that.
“You knew about this?”
“Yep.” Chester grinned.
“You could have warned me, you know.”
“And miss that expression on your face? No way!”
Sheridan glared at him, not quite succeeding in hiding a grin, and sipped at the drink
someone had put into his hand. He does enjoy it, Chester realised. Someone behind him
impatiently nudged him in the ribs so Chester moved on. Having successfully bypassed
Molly, he ended up chatting to the cute little receptionist for a while. Unfortunately the
dullness of her conversational topics was in direct proportion to the size of her cleavage and,
when Molly eventually turned up with an excuse to lure him away, he found himself
unexpectedly grateful to see her. However, the sense of relief only lasted for as long as it took
Molly to steer him into a corner after they had helped themselves to some nibbles and more
drinks. It didn’t take a scientist to guess what she had in mind and Chester was just racking
his brains for the best route of escape when rescue came in the shape of a cheerful Sally
waving him over, grinning from ear to ear.
Fully aware that he was spoiling Molly’s night, he excused himself and crossed the
room to where Sally was standing.
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“Hey, Chess! You okay?”
“I am now,” Chester muttered under his breath.
She cast him a knowing glance. “You certainly looked like you needed rescuing,” she
grinned.
“Thank you for that. I think I owe you.”
Returning her grin, Chester clinked glasses with her.
“Never mind. That old nymphomaniac can never resist chatting up a hot guy.”
Catching Chester’s eye, she smirked and added, “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me. I don’t
think I’d stand a chance, anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chester frowned.
Sally chuckled. “Aw, come on. It’s plain to see that you’ve only got eyes for one person
in this room.”
“Is it?” Chester was surprised. He’d spent less than two minutes talking to Sheridan
and kept an appropriate distance, so she must be referring to the receptionist. Just as well.
She nodded, again with that unsettlingly knowing look on her face. “Don’t worry, your
secret’s safe with me. That is, I won’t tell anyone who doesn’t see for themselves.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I think you’re a bit mistaken. I’m not—”
She cut him off with an impatient wave of her hand. “No need to explain, Chester.
Really. I’m just glad you’re here.”
“So am I. It’s a nice party and it seems Sheridan is really enjoying it. He’s lucky to have
such nice colleagues.”
Sally shrugged and tilted her head coquettishly. “I told you it was a good plan, didn’t
I?”
“Yes, you did. Just how on earth did you make him come up here?”
“Quite simple.” She smirked and took a sip from her glass. “We told him someone had
knocked over his motorbike and was waiting up here for him. That did the trick.”
“You little gremlin! That explains why he looked so pissed off when he came in.”
“He so was!” She giggled. “He was just out of the shower and barely stopped to get
dressed. Oh, you should have seen him,” she sighed dreamily. “Too bad he’s unavailable.”
“Is he?” Chester tried to sound only mildly interested.
She nodded and sipped at her drink. “He’s with one of the paramedics, Jake Simmons.”
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“Oh.” So Sheridan was officially out.
Sally’s freckles danced merrily as she wrinkled her nose. “Although I really can’t see
why. They’re so obviously… Well, they just don’t fit.”
“Well, they must fit somehow if they’re a couple,” Chester said vaguely.
She shrugged. “Perhaps. But when you see them together, they just don’t…spark. Not
the way you do with him, anyway.”
“What?” Chester had been watching the crowd but now his entire attention was on the
petite redhead at his side.
“Oh, come on,” she grinned. “Stop pussyfooting around. The two of you together? If
the heat level got any higher you’d combust. I’m amazed Sheridan’s fridges haven’t packed
in yet. We have bets running on how long it’s going to take until you’re official.”
“But there’s nothing between us,” Chester protested.
Sally shot him a wink. “I’d say the only thing that’s between you and him is that jerk of
a boyfriend he’s got.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Oh, come on, Chess. The way he looks at you when he thinks no one notices, even
now. He can’t take his eyes off you. Trust me, the man is falling in love with you.”
“But he’s only known me for a week.”
“When has that ever stopped anyone?”
“I think you’re seeing things,” Chester mumbled. “Besides, if he’s with someone, I’m
keeping my hands off him.”
She sighed unhappily. “Why can’t straight men ever have that attitude? No, seriously.
You wouldn’t cause any harm if you got between them. Simmons is just…not right for him.”
“At least you base your opinion on good reasons,” Chester teased.
“Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes. “You know, Simmons is all big and butch and totally
protective, but I think Sheridan needs someone who’s a bit more sensitive and caring. And
maybe someone who…” She broke off, coughing nervously.
“Who what?”
“Who makes him happy. Makes him smile. Like that.” Following her gaze across the
room, Chester saw Sheridan chatting to one of the doctors. He looked untypically at ease
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and, when their eyes met, he sent a smile across the room that went straight into Chester’s
heart where it settled down and curled up comfortably.
“See what I mean?” Sally said softly. “I’ve never seen him smile like that with
Simmons.”
Chester sighed. “It’s his choice, though. If he wants to be with the guy then there isn’t
much that anyone else can do about it, is there?” He hadn’t meant to sound quite so bitter,
but the third—or maybe fourth?—glass of wine was beginning to lure the truth out of him.
The memory of Jake Simmons brutally fucking Sheridan across a steel table didn’t do
anything to improve his mood, either.
“No, probably not.” She looked at him sadly. “I just really don’t know why he puts up
with that. When they first moved here, it was obvious that… Something bad had happened
to him. I would’ve expected him to get better, move on, but it just seems to be getting worse.”
“What do you mean with ‘Something bad had happened’?”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “He quit his first job after just a few months and left
London to work here. I know it was officially supposed to be a great career move, but,
seriously, work here? He could do much better than that. No, it’s obvious that there was
more to it. I think he was terribly homesick and he wasn’t only not happy, he was so…sad.
Like he was mourning someone. He was trying not to show it, but it was right there in his
eyes. I thought he would get over it, and for a while he actually seemed to be getting better,
but then Simmons turned all possessive and Sheridan became more and more distant.”
You are mine, Nicky, and you’re not going to forget that again. Chester shifted
uncomfortably. “Possessive?” he repeated.
“Yes. He won’t let anyone near him. I’m amazed he hasn’t done anything to warn you
off yet.”
Oh, but he has. “He probably doesn’t consider me a threat,” Chester said lightly, hiding
his real emotions behind his wine glass.
“Trust me, he considers everyone a threat. Even us girls and Sheridan’s never shown
the least interest in anything wearing a uniform skirt. Drove poor Molly Templar nuts with
frustration when he kept brushing her off. I bet she’s just experiencing déjà vu with you.”
She flashed a crooked grin but quickly turned serious again. “Really, Simmons is a bit of a
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weirdo anyway, but, when it comes to Sheridan, he’s completely out of it. I think if he could,
he’d simply lock him up somewhere and throw away the key.”
“He doesn’t…hurt him, though, does he?”
Absent-mindedly twisting her necklace around her finger, she shrugged. “All I know is
that Sheridan turns up looking…a bit roughed-up every now and then. I’ve no idea what the
two of them are up to from dusk till dawn and I’m not sure I wanna know. Sherry’s never
late or absent, just, well, looking like he’s had a rough night, if you know what I mean.”
Chester knew. And he suspected that there was more to Sheridan’s rough nights than
what she assumed. An ugly feeling raised its head inside him. And then there are the times
when he stays at home to go through reports he never mentioned before.
“You seem to have been watching him closely,” he said uncomfortably.
She nodded. “We went to the pub a few times when he first got here. That was before
he started becoming all reclusive. He used to be great company and for a while I was hoping
to set him up with my big bro—”
A surprised look on Sally’s face was the only warning Chester got before two strong
arms slid around his waist and he felt the pressure of a warm body against his back. Almost
jumping out of his skin, he very nearly dropped his glass.
“Sal’s been monopolising you for long enough now,” Sheridan purred into his ear.
“Oh, has she?”
“Uh-huh.” The low growl travelled on a fast track from Chester’s neck to his groin,
leaving a delicious tingle along his spine. “It’s my birthday, after all, so I should get to
unwrap a present.”
Sally sputtered into her drink and flushed beetroot red. “I think I need to be, erm,
somewhere which isn’t here,” she mumbled and rushed off.
“Poor Sally, I think you frightened her,” Chester chuckled and turned around to face
Sheridan, trying to overcome his surprise.
“She’ll get over it.” Silver sparks danced in Sheridan’s eyes. Having let go of Chester
only enough to allow him to turn around, he was still resting his hands on Chester’s hips and
standing close. So temptingly close.
Chester swallowed nervously. “You seem to be having a good time.”
“I am,” Sheridan smiled slowly. “It could be better, though.”
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“How’s that?”
“We could leave.”
“But it’s your party,” Chester protested, “And we’ve only been here for–” He checked
his watch. “Oh my, two and a half hours already?” He’d barely noticed the time passing by.
“So what? They’re all pissed anyway. By now they’ve probably forgotten why they
came here in the first place.”
“But…”
“Chester, take me outside. Now.” Sheridan’s voice was still soft but there was an
unmistakable edge of urgency in it.
“Okay.”
They were out in the sparsely lit corridor in less than two minutes but it still seemed
like an eternity. Grabbing Chester’s hand, Sheridan led him around a corner and stopped
abruptly. He turned around to face Chester.
“Sheridan, what…?”
“Kiss me.”
Chester did. The taste of Sheridan’s mouth, red wine and a trace of cigarettes along
with the scent of just him triggered memories that Chester thought he’d buried. Groaning
into the kiss, he hungrily pulled Sheridan closer. They kissed without reserve, tongues
dancing and playing with each other, greedily exploring the details of each other’s mouth,
but it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t nearly be enough. They were soon doing motions standing
upright that were meant to be done horizontally, grinding their bodies together with a need
bordering on despair.
Somewhere a door was opened and the noise of the party interrupted them. Chester
swore under his breath and took half a step back to bring at least a little distance between
them in case somebody came around the corner. It was more than he could stand and the
look on Sheridan’s face told him that the feeling was mutual. Breathless and with kiss-
swollen lips, he was visibly turned on and when exactly had he ended up pressed against the
wall?
“I want you,” Sheridan whispered urgently when the footsteps retreated in the other
direction. He grabbed Chester by the lapels of his shirt and pulled him back in.
“But not here,” Chester warned, stealing another quick kiss.
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“No, not here. Any ideas?”
“Well, the obvious solution would be the morgue,” Chester suggested.
Sheridan tensed in his arms. “Not a good choice.”
“No?” Chester was already cursing himself. Of course Sheridan wouldn’t want to go to
the morgue after what had happened there only a few hours earlier this afternoon, but
maybe that wasn’t his reason, after all.
“You’ve never been behind the scenes in a hospital, have you?” Sheridan asked,
grinning into Chester’s neck. “The morgue is where most of the staff meet for a quick shag.”
“Why’s that?”
“Few people around and those who are won’t tell anything.”
“Yuck. That’s gross,” Chester groaned.
“Maybe, but true.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Your place?”
Chester sighed. Although within easy walking distance, his hotel room suddenly
seemed miles away. “Okay.”
They left quietly, jumping each time the ping of the elevator was indecently loud in the
silence of the hospital floors. Night shift must have started already. Somehow they managed
to make their way to the hotel, stopping every few steps to snatch another delicious kiss. The
video surveillance in the hotel lobby forced them apart for a few moments, which made the
reunion in the safe haven of Chester’s room even sweeter. Clothes were ripped off and
dropped carelessly to the floor as hungry fingers greedily searched out all the places they
needed to touch. They barely made it to the bed, both groaning when they fell onto it,
Chester landing on top of Sheridan.
“Fuck me, Chess, please,” Sheridan begged in a voice so rough it was hardly
recognisable.
“Okay, just… Oh, here it is.” This time Chester found the lube instantly and poured
some onto his hand, carefully slicking his fingers. With all the desperate need bubbling
inside both of them he knew he had to take the time to prepare Sheridan well so he could
handle what was doubtlessly going to be a passionate ride.
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He searched out that sweet opening to Sheridan’s body with gentle fingers, ready to
caress and spoil, when Sheridan winced. It was only a vague, instinctive reaction but Chester
had been paying close attention to him, learning the language of an unfamiliar lover’s body.
A cautious second touch confirmed his suspicion. He knew the signs from a time when he’d
been young, desperate and hadn’t known any better.
“God, Sheridan!” he groaned. “He fucked you dry, didn’t he? Couldn’t even use lube
for you, the bastard. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m okay, Chess. Go on,” Sheridan urged.
“Are you insane? You’re hurt and there’s no way I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve
healed.”
“It’s nothing, just… Just use plenty of lube, okay?”
“No.” So far, Chester had been in a pleasant state of half-drunkenness but sobriety
caught up fast as concern clawed its way into him with icy fingers. Sheridan didn’t sound as
if he didn’t know how painful it would be for him even if he was slicked up properly.
“Then what… What do you want?” Sheridan asked in a small voice. Chester knew it
would probably be best to stop altogether but sensed that Sheridan would consider it as a
rejection of his person and, admittedly, he was far too horny himself to just let the man go.
“You do the honours,” he said.
“What?”
“You top.” Chester handed him a condom and the lube. “Slick yourself up, I’ll get
myself ready.”
“But… You want me to…?” Sheridan sounded genuinely surprised.
“Sure, why not?” Rolling on to his back, Chester breached himself as quickly as he
could. Sheridan watched him with a doubtful expression on his face.
“I… Uh, don’t usually… Are you sure?”
“You don’t get to top often, do you?”
“Not really,” Sheridan admitted evasively. Chester groaned, half in arousal, half in
annoyance. Of course, Jake’s pristine arse would be sacred.
“Ready?” he gasped. God, he was close already in spite of everything. Sheridan didn’t
need to worry. There was nothing he could do wrong now. “Please tell me you are!”
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Sheridan was ready. Smoothly climbing on top of Chester, he hesitated briefly before
entering, his cock impatiently begging Chester’s loosened muscle for admittance.
“It’s okay,” Chester said softly and, cupping the back of Sheridan’s head with one hand,
pulled him down into another kiss. Sheridan followed the invitation and finally pushed in,
drawing a moan from Chester as he filled him so completely, so… “Oh, fuck, you’re big!”
Chester moaned.
“Want me to…?”
“No! No, just move slowly for… Oh yes, just like that.”
Sheridan didn’t need any more directions. He gave Chester a moment to adjust then
changed the angle a few experimental times until he hit home with every other thrust,
efficiently clearing Chester’s mind of every thought. Sheridan’s cock stroked him on the
inside and his own trapped shaft was getting rubbed so deliciously between their bodies.
Chester didn’t stand a chance. He tried to hold back, to wait at least long enough not to
embarrass himself but he couldn’t. His spine tingled, his balls drew tight and an orgasm
slammed through him with the force of a freight train. Coming down slowly, he realised that
Sheridan was still on the wrong side of his own climax. Sweat-covered and flushed, he had
taken some of the strength out of his thrusts but the unrepentant hardness inside Chester
was a clear sign of how desperate he must be for release. Ignoring his own sated state,
Chester pushed his hips up to meet Sheridan’s strokes.
“It’s okay, I can take it until you’re done,” he whispered softly.
Sheridan looked down at him, silver eyes tormented. “I’m not sure I… Ohh.” Flexing
his muscles, Chester treated him to a trick that had driven former lovers wild. This time, it
miraculously sparked off his own arousal once more as Sheridan drove himself deep into
Chester’s body over and over again, frantically chasing his release.
“I don’t think I can… Not like this,” he gasped.
Chester barely heard him as he was getting close again much too soon. He was faintly
aware of screaming and clawing his fingers into Sheridan’s back.
“Yes, harder,” Sheridan growled.
Confused and aroused to the point of near-unconsciousness, Chester looked up at him.
“I… Huh, what?”
“Your fingers… Hurts…” Sheridan choked out between thrusts.
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Somewhere in his blood-deprived brain Chester realised that he was digging his nails
deep into Sheridan’s flesh, helplessly clinging on for a ride that had become far fiercer than
he had expected. “Sorry, I…” On the verge of an impossible second orgasm, Chester tried to
force his fingers to unclench.
“Don’t stop… Please… Oh, yes, that’s it…”
Chester saw it in his eyes. The moment pleasure and pain met, melted and boiled up to
finally be what Sheridan needed to find his release. He heard the strangled grunts, felt the
lean muscles under his fingers contract, instinctively trying to fight off the assault. But
Sheridan didn’t fight. He took the pain, soaked it up until he could let go and came at last.
His husky, ecstatic scream and the pulsing of his cock sent Chester over the edge again.
Boneless and out of breath, he melted into the mattress, observing Sheridan passively. He felt
the brush of fingers between his legs as Sheridan reached for the condom then the soft tug at
his insides as he pulled out carefully, still half-hard. Sheridan crashed on top of him and
Chester listened to his breathing slow down, felt the strong, excited heartbeat pound against
his own ribcage. When Sheridan brushed his lips in a gentle kiss, he could barely muster the
energy to respond.
“You okay?” Sheridan whispered after an indefinite time had passed, sounding mildly
concerned.
Chester forced his eyes open. He hadn’t fallen asleep, had he? “Yes, just… Utterly
fucked out,” he sighed contentedly. “You?”
Sheridan answered with a low, affirmative sound. Blinking in the semi-darkness,
Chester looked into his eyes. Wide open, they were brimming with emotions.
“You had me a bit concerned, you know,” Sheridan whispered.
“Concerned? Why?”
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Hurt? There had been something… Chester’s tired brain wouldn’t come up with the
answer straight away, but memories were beginning to find their way to the surface. Your
fingers. Hurts. Smooth skin yielding under the unintended attack of fingernails.
“No. No, you didn’t, but I… God, I scratched your back, didn’t I?”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
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“Chester, it’s okay. Really.”
Yes, harder. Don’t stop. So good. An urgent plea to go on.
“You… You wanted me to do it,” Chester choked out. “You wanted me to hurt you,
didn’t you?”
“Shit.” Sheridan closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he looked
mortified. “You don’t understand. I… I couldn’t…”
Hard to the point of aching. Desperate thrusts that wouldn’t bring the release they
should.
“You couldn’t come without being hurt?”
Sheridan dragged himself up to sit and leaned on the headboard. “I’m sorry. I just… I
get like that sometimes and… Oh, fuck, that’s sick, isn’t it?”
“It’s, well, not what I…uh, expected,” Chester said warily. “Now let me have a look.”
Sheridan opened his mouth to say something but Chester silenced him with a stern
look. He got out of bed and flicked on the light. A cautious look at his fingers made him
squirm as he detected blood under his nails. The room was so cold all of a sudden. He
shuddered. “Lie on your stomach.”
“Chester, please.”
“You could let me do it, now you can let me bloody look at it, too,” Chester grumbled.
Sheridan flinched. “Don’t be mad at me, please,” he whispered.
“I’m not mad at you, sunshine,” Chester said softly. “I’m just… Oh, I don’t know.
Confused. Out of my comfort zone. By about a hundred miles. Now let me see.”
Sheridan obediently, if reluctantly, rolled on to his stomach.
Chester hissed. Two sets of four parallel bright red stripes showed exactly where he had
dug his nails in. The skin was torn in places, oozing tiny droplets of blood.
“I’m so sorry, love. Does it hurt much?” He didn’t even notice which endearment he
used.
“Stings a bit,” Sheridan admitted sheepishly.
“You should probably put something on it to help it heal.”
Turning around, Sheridan sat up. “Don’t worry about that. I’m the doctor, remember?
I’ll pick something up from the hospital on the way home, okay?”
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Home. The word hung between them like a dark cloud and the threadbare remains of
the bubble Chester had spent the evening in dissolved into thin air.
“You can’t go home looking like that,” he said.
“I can’t not go home,” Sheridan objected with resigned sternness and stood up, pulling
a face. “You’re probably right, though. I should take a shower. I guess the smell would be a
giveaway. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not. Go ahead.”
Sheridan went into the bathroom, leaving Chester alone with his dark thoughts, the
firmly closed door a clear indication that he was not invited in.
When Sheridan returned several minutes later, Chester looked at him imploringly.
“Don’t go back. You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.” Sheridan sighed. “It’s where I live.”
“You could stay here for a while,” Chester suggested hopefully.
“And then what?”
“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “But we’ll figure something out. You could come back
to London with me. Or I could move up here. I’m a writer, it doesn’t really matter where I
am, I can work anywhere.”
“You’d move house because of me?” Sheridan’s eyes were wide with surprise.
“Why not?”
“You don’t even know me.”
“That can be changed,” Chester said stubbornly.
“I can’t, Chester. I just…can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Fuck, Chester. I have a life here. I’m with someone.”
“Yes, I know. I was there when he gave his little demonstration of how you belong to
him, remember?” Chester snapped angrily.
Sorting through the pile of clothes on the floor, Sheridan picked out his own and started
getting dressed. He didn’t meet Chester’s eyes when he quietly said, “I know Jake comes on
a bit strong but he only wants to protect me. He just…doesn’t want me to get hurt.”
“So he’d rather do it himself?”
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Anger blazed in Sheridan’s eyes. “You just saw what I’m like, didn’t you?” he snarled.
“I’m a freak. I need the pain to bring me off. Jake… He understands it. He knows me and
takes care of me.”
“Maybe he does,” Chester admitted bitterly. “Maybe he understands that kind of desire
better than I do. But does he make you happy?”
Sheridan took a deep breath and let it out in a sad sigh. “Happiness is something I’ve
given up every right to have. Jake loves me, in spite of what I’ve done.” He broke off
abruptly having clearly said more than he’d intended to.
“What you did? What did you do?”
“I… Look, Chester, I’m not fit to be with someone like you. I don’t deserve it. Not
after…what happened. I can’t take what you’re offering. I can’t just quit and leave everything
behind.” He was fully dressed and stepped into his boots, ready to leave.
“Sheridan, wait. Don’t go while you’re all upset please,” Chester said softly and held
him back with a hand on his arm, knowing that he would have to let him go, after all. “I
didn’t even get to give you your birthday present yet.” He held out the slim envelope he’d
fished from his pocket earlier. “Don’t open it until you’re home and alone. You’ll probably
not want it right now but please keep it and use it if you ever change your mind.”
Sheridan looked bewildered but nodded. “Okay, I will,” he promised.
“One more thing,” Chester said slowly. “Are you going to tell me your first name this
time?”
Sheridan’s suspicious expression dissolved into a tender smile. “Nicolas.”
“Nicolas,” Chester repeated, exploring the taste of the syllables on his tongue. “It’s a
nice name.”
Sheridan grinned. “You sound surprised. What did you expect?”
“Honestly? The way no one ever uses your first name I thought it was something really
gruesome.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Chester, maybe.”
Sheridan lowered his head for a gentle kiss. “I like Chester,” he whispered earnestly
when he pulled back. “And the reason no one uses my first name is a habit, mostly. It started
at school because there were three boys called Nicolas in my class. I got so used to it that I
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just don’t encourage people to call me Nicolas. It’s for special people and special occasions
only.”
“Would you mind if I do?”
“Not at all.” Sheridan was still smiling but he sighed regretfully. “Look, I’d love to stay
but I really need to go. I’ll see you on Monday, right?”
“Yes.” Chester nodded unhappily. He’d planned to spend two more days at the morgue
after the weekend. Two more days in Sheridan’s company. Two days and he didn’t have a
clue what to do afterwards.
“Want me to call you a taxi?” he offered, realising he didn’t even know where Sheridan
lived.
“No, I’ll walk back to the hospital and take the bike.”
“You had about as much to drink as I had, maybe even more. You’re not fit to drive,”
Chester pointed out.
“I could ride that bike with my eyes closed. Trust me.” Sheridan smiled.
Chester shook his head, aware that there was still way too much alcohol in Sheridan’s
system for him to be safely let loose on a huge motorbike.
“Please don’t. Let me call you a taxi.”
“I can’t leave the bike. Jake knows I’d never do that unless something’s been up.”
“Then stay at least until you’ve sobered up a bit more,” Chester begged.
Sheridan glanced at his watch. “I can’t. Really. I’m cutting it close as it is.”
“Don’t you think Jake will know anyway when he sees your back?”
“I’ll make something up.”
“Yeah, like what?” Chester said bitterly.
“I’ll think of something.”
“Please don’t go. Not with the bike and not back to Jake. I couldn’t stand it if you got
hurt,” Chester implored.
Sheridan shook his head. It was only a weak movement but full of regret. “He won’t
hurt me, Chess,” he insisted softly. “We’ve had a good time. Please don’t spoil it.”
“But I’ve got this feeling… Like something terrible is going to happen.”
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Sheridan smiled at him, grey eyes full of affection. “Let me tell you something, Chester.
These few stolen hours with you were the best I’ve had in a long time. If I died now, with the
memory of that on my mind, I’d die a very happy man.”
“God, please don’t talk about death!” Chester groaned.
Sheridan brushed a kiss on his mouth then went to the door and opened it. “I’m a
forensic pathologist, remember? Death is my life.” He winked and left Chester in the
company of a terrible sense of foreboding.
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Chapter Seven
Chester spent a nerve-wrecking weekend in London. Nothing he did could give him the
distraction he was looking for. The hurt he had seen in Sheridan’s eyes, all that unspoken
torment, kept haunting him. As a last resort, he called his sister and invited himself for
Sunday lunch. The comfort and cheerful chaos of her family home kept him occupied for a
while, but, when he returned to his own flat, fear and worry reached out to him again. More
than anything, he wanted to ascertain that Sheridan was okay. He hadn’t seemed too
concerned about returning to his home and his boyfriend, but Chester strongly suspected he
had every reason to be concerned if Jake’s demonstration in the morgue was an indication of
how he was going to treat Sheridan after another secret tête-à-tête with Chester. Chester
forced himself to go to bed and spent another sleepless night trying to keep the worst
nightmares at bay.
Monday morning didn’t do anything to relieve his tension. He’d barely got out of
London when an ominous light on the dashboard asked him to stop. Two hours later, he was
back at home and his car at the garage.
He had no choice but to delay his drive to Halifax by another day and call Molly to
inform her. She seemed far less enthusiastic talking to him than he had got used to.
“Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter if you don’t turn up,” she said after he had told
her about his damaged car. “There wouldn’t be much point anyway, since your doctor hasn’t
come in for work yet, either.” She sounded mildly reproachful.
“Sheridan?” Chester asked sharply, dread welling up inside him.
“The one.”
“He’s not there?”
“No.” There was definitely a note of bitterness in her voice now. She inhaled deeply.
“In fact I thought he might still be with you, seeing as the two of you left together on Friday
night.”
Oh. So that hadn’t gone unnoticed, after all.
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“No, he… He’s not with me. He just…wasn’t well and went home after we left.” And
had some of the best but most disturbing sex I’ve ever had.
“Well, I don’t know what he’s up to. He hasn’t called in sick and it’s not as though he
didn’t have any work waiting for him,” she said crossly.
“Look, Molly, I’m sure he’s got a good reason. He’s probably just… Oh, I don’t know,
but there must be an explanation.”
She chuckled sarcastically and said, “Then it would be nice if he chose to pass on that
information to me.”
“Have you tried calling him at home?”
“I have and there was no answer.”
“What about his, um, partner? Jake Simmons? Is he at work? Maybe he knows…”
She interrupted him brusquely. “Chester, it’s really not my duty to run after a renegade
employee. If he can’t be bothered to call, well, that’s his problem. Or, rather, it will be his
problem if he hasn’t got a very good explanation for his absence.”
“Were there any accidents?” Chester asked, getting desperate. “He took his bike, maybe
he had a crash.”
Molly laughed humourlessly. “You think we’d have one of our own doctors in our
hospital and wouldn’t notice? This may be only a small-town hospital but we’re not
completely incapable.”
“I wasn’t saying you were,” Chester said, pushing images of Sheridan and his bike
lying on the side of some godforsaken country road away.
“Well, thank you,” she answered. “Anyway, I have an appointment, so if you’ll…”
“Wait, Molly. Would you give me his phone number, please? I’d like to, uh, call him.
See if he’s okay.”
“I’m sorry, Chester. It’s not in our policy to hand out private information about our staff
members. If he hasn’t given you his number then I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.” Oh,
sour grapes.
“I see. Well…”
“Goodbye, Chester.”
“Bye.”
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Chester listened to the beeping of the cut line for a moment before he hung up.
Apprehension was gnawing at his insides. Why, oh why, had he let Sheridan go? He knew
something bad had happened, had known it would all along but hadn’t wanted to admit it.
He slammed the phone on the table and went to switch on his laptop. There were other
ways of acquiring information.
He opened a directory site, typed Sheridan into the search field and clicked go.
The screen informed him that there were too many entries and asked him to narrow
down his search. Muttering a curse, Chester typed in N. Sheridan. Three entries appeared.
One was Nelly Sheridan—the other two read N. Sheridan and J. Simmons. Chester frowned.
The exact same entry twice?
He took a closer look and realised that he had forgotten to enter the area he was
searching in. He clicked the first entry, relieved when he was shown a number and address
that had to be the right one. He picked up the phone and dialled, writing down the number
and address as he listened to the regular electronic beep that seemed to mock him. After the
third try, he gave up. Either Sheridan really wasn’t at home or he wasn’t picking up. Whether
that was because he didn’t want to or because he couldn’t was a question Chester preferred
not to mull over.
Sighing, he got up and made himself a cup of coffee, wondering what to do. There were
only two options. Stay where he was and try calling again later or hire a car and drive up to
check on Sheridan in person. The latter would take hours and definitely provoke the wrath of
Jake Simmons, even if Sheridan turned out to be fine. He decided to try the phone again and
took the coffee back to his desk. Again, his call remained unanswered. He rubbed his
forehead, put the phone down and stared at the screen of his laptop, ready to look up the
number of a car-hire company when the second directory entry caught his eye. Curious, he
clicked it. A phone number came up, complete with a London address. Looking at the names
more closely, Chester blinked in surprise. N. Sheridan and J. Simmons Sheridan. J. Simmons
Sheridan? It was too much of a coincidence, wasn’t it?
On the spur of the moment, he picked up the phone again and dialled the London
number. This time, his call was promptly answered. A friendly computer voice told him that
the number he had dialled was not available anymore.
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He added the details to the ones already on his list for future reference then entered car
hire into the search field.
* * * *
An hour and another four unanswered calls later, he was on his way to Yorkshire,
congratulating himself on his choice of car. The sleek, showy Jaguar convertible made the
drive as pleasant as he could hope for and as fast as he dared go.
By the time he pulled up in front of the house he had found under Sheridan’s address,
he was trembling with nerves but still absolutely clueless as to what to do. He supposed
doing the obvious thing and simply ringing the doorbell would be a good start. He parked
the car and, walking up the three stone steps to the front door, took a closer look at the
house. Dark and silent, it looked deserted and uninviting. Just like its inhabitants, Chester
mused. He noticed Sheridan’s flashy motorbike parked on the side. So at least he knew now
that Sheridan hadn’t crashed it on the way home.
A little relieved, he pushed the button. He could hear the bell chime somewhere inside
the house but, unsurprisingly, it went unanswered. He tried again and got the same result.
Defeated, he turned around to walk back to the car when something caught his eye. A
small airing window inside the old wooden door that wasn’t closed properly.
Telling himself that he couldn’t possibly risk it, Chester already knew that he was going
to do it anyway. If Sheridan had decided to just skip work and was at home, perhaps
enjoying some passionate makeup sex with Jake, or, worse, if Jake was home alone, sleeping
in after a night shift… Chester knew he would be absolutely, utterly fucked. He sighed. He
couldn’t bear the thought of not having tried everything in his power to find out if Sheridan
was really all right.
A quick glance over his shoulder told him that the quiet side road was still as peaceful
and undisturbed as it had been upon his arrival. He reached out and pushed against the
window. It didn’t budge. He tried again, harder, and the small window shifted in its
confinement of age-old oak with an ominous creak. Reaching in, Chester’s fingers brushed
along the polished wood, searching for… He stopped. The keyhole. No key. That could be a
good sign if it meant that no one was at home. Or a bad sign if the door was locked and he
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would never find out what… He found the handle and gently tried it. It moved easily and
the door clicked open. Chester took a deep breath. It was now or never. He stepped inside
and shut the door behind himself. His heart was pounding a frantic tapdance inside his
ribcage and his eyes needed a moment to adjust to the sparse light in the narrow hallway.
A look into the living room told him it was empty and he went on down the hall and
through to the kitchen. Again, no one there. He noticed another door and opened it carefully.
The small study behind it was just as void of life as the rest of the ground floor so far. Chester
was about to shut the door when his eyes fell on to a framed photograph on the desk. It was
the first personal item he had found, so naturally it raised his curiosity.
He crossed the room to look at it. Two men leaning on a huge motorbike, both dressed
in black leather from head to toe. Chester easily recognised one of them as Sheridan’s
younger self. The man at his side was a striking beauty. Even taller than Sheridan and
broader across the shoulders, his fair skin and blond hair set off Sheridan’s darker tones
perfectly. With their arms wrapped around each other and smiling for all they were worth,
they looked as carelessly happy as only young people madly in love could look.
Chester stared at the blond man closely. No. Although a similar type, he was not Jake.
Jake wouldn’t be able to look as devotedly in love to save his life, either.
The motorbike, though, was definitely the one currently parked outside the house. The
striking chrome parts and the custom-painted petrol tank made it easy to identify.
Chester left the study and looked around. There were no more rooms on the ground
floor so he sneaked upstairs. The two doors on the left opened to a master and guest
bedroom, which were both empty, the door on the right to the bathroom, which wasn’t.
Sheridan lay curled up on his side, his back pressed against the wall behind him. He
was naked on the cold white tiles of the bathroom floor, his skin that horrible bluish shade of
pale that Chester had come to know so well in recent days. For a few heartbreaking moments
Chester knew, just knew, that Sheridan was dead. Then he noticed the shallow heaving of the
bruised ribs, faint like a summer breeze in a cornfield, but it was there. Chester sucked in a
much-needed breath and took a step closer, slowly taking in the gruesome details of the
scene.
Bruises in varying degrees of fading covered almost Sheridan’s entire body. Dried
blood had left streaks of crusty dark red among the colourful patches. It had collected in
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small pools on the tiles, one of them right under Sheridan’s head where it had clotted his hair
into thick, sticky strands. He had probably never even noticed. Chester followed the trail of
blood up all the way to Sheridan’s wrist. He winced. Sheridan must have been desperate and
half-crazed, hurting himself all the more in a frantic struggle to get free. The skin at the base
of his right hand was ripped apart, revealing bloody shreds of flesh still cruelly encircled by
the unyielding hold of a cable binder that tied him to a solid metal rail right next to the toilet.
Dropping to his knees beside him, Chester reached out his hand and ran his fingers
across Sheridan’s cheek then lower to his neck. The skin below his fingertips was clammy
and, God, so cold. The pulse was there, but as faint and fluttering as a butterfly’s fragile
wings.
“Sheridan. Sheridan, come on sunshine, wake up!” Chester whispered, hearing the
tremors of terror in his own voice. There was no reaction. He transferred his grip to
Sheridan’s shoulder, carefully seeking out a spot that had not been bruised, and shook him
gently. “Sheridan, sweetheart, wake up!” he repeated, louder. “Come on, we have to get you
warm.”
Sheridan stirred weakly. He let out a heartbreaking moan and opened one eye. The
other remained shut, hidden behind a violent purple swelling.
Chester swallowed. He swallowed again when the bile wouldn’t stop rising. “Hello,
sunshine,” he greeted softly, trying to hide his terror.
“Chess? What…?” Even those two syllables were too much for Sheridan’s cracked
voice.
“Shush, I’ll get you free. Then we’ll clean you up and get you warm, okay?”
“No, don’t,” Sheridan protested weakly. He struggled into a somewhat upright
position, back against the wall for support. “You mustn’t… Jake… He’ll know…”
“I don’t care what he knows. You have to warm up or…” He couldn’t finish the
sentence.
“But he’ll be angry… So angry…” Sheridan whispered, terrified. A few drops of fresh
blood appeared in the crack across his bottom lip.
“Then I’ll deal with him. Listen now, I need a knife or something to get you free. Where
can I find one?”
“Don’t. Please. I just…need to wait. He’ll release me when… He promised.”
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“For fuck’s sake, Sheridan!” Chester hissed. “You’re the expert here, but even I
recognise hypothermia when I see it. And these wounds… God, what has that sad fuck done
to you?”
“He…got angry. Punished me.”
“Please tell me he hasn’t kept you tied up the whole weekend,” Chester groaned.
“Weekend?”
“It’s Monday. Five o’clock in the afternoon, to be precise.” Chester explained, then
added with a desolate feeling, “He has kept you tied up the whole weekend, hasn’t he?”
One look into Sheridan’s tormented eyes gave him the answer. “Stay here,” he
whispered, unnecessarily. Sheridan wouldn’t go anywhere, not even if he was free.
Chester went downstairs to the kitchen where he searched the drawers until he found
what he needed. Sharp knife gripped tightly, he returned to the bathroom where he winced
once again at the sight. Sheridan was a mess, covered in blood, huddled against the wall. His
body shivered violently as it made another attempt at fighting the cold. Watching Chester’s
approach he drew his free hand up to shield his bound and slashed wrist. “Don’t,” he
pleaded again, pitifully.
Chester shook his head. “You know I have to, love,” he said softly. It tore at his heart
when he had to break what weak resistance Sheridan could offer to cut through the restraint.
Its plastic had become firmly embedded in the flesh it bound and Chester had no choice but
to rip the wound open again to get it out and free Sheridan.
Sheridan winced but didn’t make a sound. He stopped struggling, quietly accepting
what he so obviously didn’t want to happen. When the restraint was gone, he sagged back
against the wall, head hanging low.
“Come on, let’s move you over here,” Chester said but Sheridan didn’t respond, just
stared at some undefined spot only he could see.
“Fuck,” Chester grumbled. He got up, switched on the shower and turned it as hot as
he could stand then returned to Sheridan.
“Can you get up?” The grey eyes remained locked on the far bathroom wall. Sheridan
didn’t even try to move. He looked like a man who was way past finding it in him to care for
anything and just accepted what was done to him. Chester slung Sheridan’s arm across his
shoulders and hoisted him up, literally dragging him to the shower, cursing when he realised
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that there was no way to get him in but to get under the hot jet himself. He carefully set
Sheridan on the floor and shed his own clothes, then hauled the dead-weight body into the
cubicle and dropped to his knees, cradling Sheridan in his arms. The water poured down on
them, a scalding torrent of redemption that quickly dissolved the dark streaks on Sheridan’s
body and disappeared down the drain, tinted an ominous shade of pink.
Sheridan moaned. He started shaking uncontrollably as the heat restored his body
functions and his muscles tried desperately to warm him from the inside. Chester picked up
the shampoo and washed the blood out of Sheridan’s hair, rinsing it until the black strands
were silky and squeaky clean in his fingers.
Time passed by. He didn’t know how long it took until Sheridan had finally stopped
shivering and the blue tinge of his skin had been turned into a healthy flush by the heat but
Chester would have stayed indefinitely.
“Let’s get you out of here,” he said softly, giving Sheridan an encouraging smile. Not
waiting for a reaction, he switched off the shower, pulled Sheridan to his feet and grabbed
the fluffiest towel he could find then hesitated, staring at the kaleidoscope of colours the
bruises had left on Sheridan’s body. He settled for gently dabbing his skin dry instead of
simply rubbing him down the way he’d intended to, then wrapped him up in a second, dry
towel before he quickly dried himself off and scrambled back into his clothes.
Chester went to the bedroom to find something to wear for Sheridan, trying to ignore
the big bed that seemed to taunt him. When he saw the bloodstains in the tangled sheets he
quickly averted his gaze, refusing to think about what horrors Sheridan must have endured
in it. It felt so wrong to be there, this intrusion into somebody else’s privacy. Shaking off the
feeling, he picked underwear, a pair of soft cotton jogging trousers and a thick jersey and
returned to the bathroom. He dressed Sheridan, who allowed himself to be handled meekly,
then led him down the stairs and to the kitchen where he made him sit on a chair.
Going through the unfamiliar cupboards again, he produced some tinned chicken soup.
He put it on the stove and watched it heat up while he tried not to admit to himself how
much he needed to go through these simple, homely motions just to calm his own nerves. He
stirred the soup carefully until he had himself back under control enough to face Sheridan
again.
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“Eat this,” he ordered, placing the soup and a spoon on the table in front of the huddled
heap of misery. Sheridan looked at him sceptically but took a cautious spoonful. Within
seconds, he was wolfing down the soup, barely setting the spoon aside long enough for
Chester to give him a second helping.
When he was finished, Chester took the bowl away and handed him a bar of chocolate
he had found on his cupboard raid. Sheridan tucked in appreciatively and Chester waited
patiently until he’d polished off half of the bar.
“Okay. We’ve got you warm and fed, that’s good. Now let me see to those wounds.”
“Don’t…”
“Shush. Got any first-aid equipment?”
Sheridan indicated a cabinet with an exhausted jerk of his head. Chester found what he
needed. A first-aid kit that wasn’t only well stocked but also contained a lot more equipment
than necessary in a private household. Probably an indication of how often it was needed. He
went to work. The hot water had drawn fresh blood from some of the cuts but at least
Sheridan’s skin felt warm now and had assumed a nice rosy flush in the places that weren’t
bruised.
On close inspection, the whole extent of Sheridan’s injuries became apparent. There
wasn’t much Chester could do about the large swelling on the side of his face other than
finding an icepack and ordering Sheridan to hold it.
He cleaned out the cut across Sheridan’s swollen bottom lip then, wincing, turned to the
cuts on his arms. They were shallow, not really harmful, and must have been applied with a
sharp blade. Like paper cuts, they probably caused more pain than damage. Several of them
ran right across the scars of the ones before them. Refusing to let unwelcome memories
surface, Chester gently dabbed lotion onto them.
Sheridan didn’t even flinch when the antiseptic bit into his raw flesh—it seemed that he
was used to that and accepted it with stoic calm.
“Right.” Chester drew a breath. “I think I’m done. Now let me see your wrist.”
Sheridan unwillingly held out his hand for inspection. Chester couldn’t stop the curse
that needed out. “Okay, this is too much. I’m taking you to see a doctor.”
“No.” Sheridan’s voice was barely audible and hoarse, but Chester knew that this time,
he would put up a fight.
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“Sheridan, really, this looks bad. The skin’s cut and… I’m not sure how bad the damage
is exactly. This needs a more professional treatment than I can give it.”
“No.” Pulling back his hand, Sheridan inspected it himself. His expression was cold and
detached—the same professional mask of indifference he wore when he examined a corpse.
He cleaned the wound with well-practiced efficiency then reached into the first-aid kit, took
out a small brown box and set it on the table.
“What’s that?” Chester asked. Sheridan opened the box and took its contents out,
arranging everything neatly on an antiseptic cloth.
“Stitches,” he answered Chester’s questioning look curtly.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to do them yourself,” Chester gasped.
Sheridan cast him a cool glance then turned his attention back to his wrist. Picking
gingerly at the severed tissue he carefully put the torn ends back together. He looked up at
Chester. “Okay, I need you to… Can you hold it like this?”
“You’re really going to stitch yourself up?” Chester asked, shocked.
“Sure. You said this needed professional treatment.”
“Can you do that?”
There was the ghost of a smile on Sheridan’s lips. “I’ve learnt more in med classes than
cutting up corpses, you know.”
“Yes, but… Oh. I see. Is this why Jake tied up your right hand? So you can fix the
damage yourself and no one needs to know about it? This isn’t the first time something like
this has happened, is it?”
Sheridan shook his head and indicated the wound. “Press here, please.”
Reluctantly, Chester did as asked, watching in disgusted fascination as Sheridan
pushed the needle through his skin again and again, leaving a neat line of tiny, perfect
stitches. Chester had come to know him well enough to see that he was running on autopilot,
going through motions although he was still in shock. He didn’t even notice what was
missing until Sheridan was almost done.
“Fuck, Sheridan, you didn’t even anaesthetise it. It must hurt like a bitch!”
“‘S’okay,” Sheridan shrugged. “Just stings a bit.”
“Yeah, compared to the rest of it, it’s probably a piece of cake,” Chester grumbled
bitterly then took a breath. “What happened?”
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Ignoring the question, Sheridan finished the last stitch and calmly put away all the
equipment.
“What happened?” Chester repeated sternly and reached across the table to take
Sheridan’s hand in his. “Was it because of Friday night?”
Sheridan sighed but didn’t pull his hand away. His voice was still brittle when he
explained, “He was here when I got home. I don’t know why. He… He’d said he had a
double shift but… He must have switched it or something. He was here and…” He fell silent.
“Knew something had been up, didn’t he?”
Sheridan nodded unhappily. “Yeah, I wasn’t prepared. I thought I had more time…”
“What did he do?”
“Asked me where I’d been. He’d heard about the party and he knew, Chester, he knew.
Someone must have told him we left together and… God, he was so mad. I’ve never seen
him like this.”
Molly. The grapes hadn’t just been sour, they must have been very bitter indeed.
“It wasn’t the first time…uh, something like this has happened, though, was it?”
Chester asked softly.
“It’s never been so bad,” Sheridan admitted quietly.
“Why? Why does he do that to you?”
Still not meeting his eyes, Sheridan became defensive. “It doesn’t matter, Chester. Just
forget about it, okay?”
“Are you nuts? You look like you’ve had a fight with a bunch of football hooligans and
you’re telling me it doesn’t matter? We should have called the police by now and pressed
charges against that sick bastard.”
That outburst at last made Sheridan raise his head and look at Chester with wide,
frightened eyes. “No! You mustn’t tell anyone about this!”
“Why not? This has got to stop. Whatever it is that made you put up with it so far, it has
to stop now.”
“You don’t understand… You’ve made it so much worse already. When he comes
back… He’ll be so angry with me.”
Chester shook his head irritably. “No, you don’t understand. I’m not going to leave you
alone with him. He won’t touch you ever again, is that clear?”
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“He’ll be so angry…” Sheridan repeated faintly.
“I don’t give a fuck about what he is or will be or whatever, Sheridan! As far as I’m
concerned he’s a sadistic bastard who doesn’t know when to stop.”
“But… He did it just because he was upset. It was my fault, I disappointed him. I
shouldn’t have… He just did it because he loves me so much.”
Oh, the same old excuses. He’d heard them before and it was more than Chester could
take. He slammed his fist on the table, sending Sheridan cringing back in his chair.
“Seriously, Sheridan, what the fuck is wrong with you? He tied you up, naked, for God
knows how long and you just had to stitch yourself up! Is that what you call love?”
“It’s what I deserve. I have to… He takes care of me,” Sheridan stammered
incoherently.
“But he’s hurting you and I fail to see…”
A harsh voice cut across him gruffly. “What I fail to see, Mr Banning, is what you are
doing in my home.”
Sheridan flinched at the voice, retreating into himself like a dog who’d been kicked
once too often. The sense of inappropriateness that had sparked up in him during those
sweet shared moments after the party flickered and died. “Jake.” It was no more than a gasp
but the terror in it sent a shudder down Chester’s spine.
He got to his feet so fast that his chair went tumbling backwards and crashed on the
floor. “You want to know what I’m doing here? Fine, I’ll tell you. I released your partner,” he
spat the word out with as much disgust as he could muster. “And then I took care of him and
all the wounds you left on him.”
“Wounds?” Jake frowned, his face a mask of innocence.
“Yes, wounds.”
“What wounds are you talking about?”
Chester heaved an irritable sigh. “I think you’ll know which ones if you look at his face.
Oh, and, of course, the cuts on his arms.”
“Oh, that.” Jake smiled easily. “What makes you think I did any of that?”
“Well, it’s…” Chester fell silent, watching Jake cross the room to stand behind Sheridan
and wrap his arms around him in a gesture that was equally protective and possessive.
Closing his eyes, Sheridan let himself be pulled into the embrace.
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“Why would I do any of that?” Jake asked in a soft murmur. “Why would I hurt the
man I love? Has it occurred to you that maybe he just got into a bar fight? It happens, you
know, especially if you hang out in the places Nicky likes to go to these days.”
“But that’s not really what happened, is it?” Chester asked with a sneer.
“That is what really happened as far as Nicky and I are concerned.”
Nonplussed, Chester stared at him for a moment, then looked at Sheridan, who kept his
unseeing gaze trained on the table. Cleaned and patched up, he didn’t look quite so bad
anymore. He would easily get away with claiming he had got into a bar fight if anyone
should bother to ask.
Chester recalled Sally’s words. All I know is that he turns up looking rough about once a
month. Sheridan definitely looked like he’d had a rough night. Or rather, several of them.
Chester let out an angry, disbelieving snort. “Yeah, sure. Is that how he got tied up to
that rail in your bathroom, too? And what about those cuts? It doesn’t take a medical expert
to see that they weren’t caused by a beer bottle, you know.”
Jake considered the question thoughtfully, looking at Sheridan’s bowed head in front of
him. “No, they weren’t,” he admitted. “Although I’d honestly prefer that.” Catching
Chester’s sceptical glance, he looked at Sheridan again with convincingly sincere compassion
and sighed.
“As to tying him up… Yes, I did that. But only because I had to.” He ran his fingers
through Sheridan’s hair that had dried in tangled strands after his shower, gently combing it
out. “You know I had to, don’t you, Nicky?” he whispered into Sheridan’s ear. “You made
me. You know I hate it, but for you I do it anyway. Just like everything I do is just for you.
You’ve been a naughty boy, Nicky, but that’s just what’s to be expected from you, isn’t it? It’s
the way you are—so bad. Rotten to the core.”
He shifted his attention back to Chester who was watching, shocked into silence.
“I only tied him up to protect him.”
“Protect him?” Chester yelled, hearing the shrill note in his voice but unable to stop it.
“He was naked and freezing, for God’s sake! What would he need to be protected from?”
Jake’s thin mouth twisted into a sad half-smile. “Himself. The cuts,” he explained. “Has
it occurred to you that maybe he does that to himself?”
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Chester stared at him for several moments, collecting himself. “Maybe he does it or he
does it?” he asked bitterly.
A cold grin on his lips, Jake shrugged. “That’s irrelevant, you know. You see, the thing
is… It’s what he wants. What he needs.” He brushed a kiss on the unharmed side of
Sheridan’s forehead.
Apprehension crawled up Chester’s spine as he couldn’t deny the obvious any longer.
“Are you saying he…cuts himself?”
Smiling sadly, Jake nodded. “Didn’t expect that, huh? Yes, my beautiful Nicky is hiding
a dark side, but you know that, don’t you? Found out when you fucked him again, even
though you know he’s mine.” His fingers tightened in Sheridan’s hair, making him wince.
“Yes, Nicky… He craves the pain, embraces it. It’s like an absolution for him. He needs it,
takes it and then comes back for more, don’t you, Nicky?”
Pulling at Sheridan’s hair, he forced his head back. Sheridan let out a half-strangled
groan but didn’t try to fight him off.
Jake smiled. “If I don’t give him what he needs to satisfy that, he’ll only do it himself.
And we know how ugly that can get, don’t we, Nicky?”
“Why? What happened?”
“Tell him, Nicky. Tell him what you did,” Jake ordered in his deceptively gentle voice
but Sheridan shook his head in silent mortification.
“Sliced his wrists and almost killed himself,” Jake said, still cradling Sheridan’s head in
his hands as he spoke to Chester. “I’d finished early that day. When I came home, I found
him in the bathroom. He’d been cutting himself for a while and I couldn’t make him stop, but
it was always just shallow scrapings. That day, though… He’d gone too far. Cut his wrists
open almost to the bone. Right through the main artery, like the pro he is. He’d lost quite a
lot of blood. Had I arrived only five minutes later or not been able to help him myself he
would’ve been dead. He stopped cutting for a while after that and only needs it occasionally
now, but when I do it for him then at least I can make sure that he stays safe.” He planted
another kiss on the top of Sheridan’s head. “This weekend… Things got out of control a bit.
Nicky was in a, let’s say, particularly dark mood when he came home.”
“He was in a good enough mood when he left me.”
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“Oh, but that was part of the problem, you see. Fucking you… He knows he shouldn’t
have done that, knows it was wrong. It got to him and he wanted more than I could safely let
him have so he started fighting me. I didn’t enjoy having to tie him down but I’m sure you
understand now that I had good reasons for doing it.”
“Oh, God. Is that true, Sheridan?”
Sheridan gave a tiny, tight nod but didn’t look at him.
“You might have had good reasons but what you did was still wrong,” Chester
grumbled. He had to admit that Jake was incredibly good at being the picture of gentle
concern with Sheridan. It would have been so easy to believe his words, so much easier to
believe that Sheridan simply had an extreme kink that had got out of control rather than to
accept that he believed the lies his lover fed him.
“If what you’re saying was true, and I’m not saying I believe you,” Chester said slowly,
“then don’t you think it would be better to seek professional help?”
“And risk him getting locked up and stuffed with pills that keep him numbed down?
No, frankly, I don’t think that’s an option. I can take care of him and give him what he
wants.”
“Still, I’d feel much better if he told me that himself,” Chester insisted, stubbornly
hoping to break the spell Jake seemed to have cast over Sheridan.
Jake smiled gently. “You’re free to ask him, Mr Banning. I’m not keeping him from
giving you an answer.”
“Sheridan? Talk to me please. I need to know if all that is true.”
At last Sheridan looked up, still resting his head tiredly against Jake’s body behind him.
“It is.” His voice was still rough and Chester could hear the resignation in it.
“Nicolas, please. There are other ways if you… If you want to stop this. Pack some
clothes and come with me. You don’t have to stay here.”
Sheridan shook his head. “No. Jake takes care of me. He loves me. I’m okay.”
“Nicolas…” Chester pleaded but Jake cut him off.
“You heard what he said. He’s fine. He knows he is with someone who genuinely cares
for him and understands him and doesn’t just use him for a quick fuck. I appreciate that you
were trying to look after him but you really should go now. I’ll take care of him,” he finished
softly. Bending down, he claimed Sheridan’s bruised mouth in a possessive kiss, then he
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straightened up again, grinning. “I’ll make sure he gets what he needs,” he said ominously.
He left Sheridan and walked Chester to the door, his enormous physical presence enough to
make clear that he wouldn’t be messed with.
When Chester opened the door, Jake placed one big hand on it and held it shut. He
smiled down at Chester pleasantly. “Just give it up, Banning. Nick may have a weak spot for
you but he belongs with me. You couldn’t handle him if you had him. A guy like you could
never give him what he needs.”
“Oh, and you can?” Chester snapped.
“I can.” Jake’s grin turned cold. “He’s a mess. If it weren’t for me he’d have killed
himself more than just that one time I told you about. Is that really what you want to deal
with?”
“No, but I would if I could help him,” Chester said firmly.
“Well, you can’t. You had your moment of fun with him. There’s only me for him now
and you’d better make sure you don’t get in the way.”
Chester forced himself to hold his gaze levelly. “I won’t. If you really are what he
wants, I’ll stand aside. But, if he ever wants out, I’ll be there for him.”
“Nice words, Romeo. Just don’t get your hopes up.” Jake opened the door and Chester
left, his heart aching at the thought of what might happen after he left Sheridan alone with
Jake. And yet, if Sheridan didn’t want out, there wasn’t much Chester could do about it. His
only hope was that, against the odds, Sheridan would come to realise that what Jake was
doing to him was wrong.
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Chapter Eight
After a few days, Chester somehow managed to get a grip on himself. Channelling all
his frustration and anger into writing, he set a new personal record. Three weeks of almost
non-stop writing and his latest novel was almost finished. All that was missing was the end
chapter, then he could start proofreading. It had turned out darker than his previous work,
but his agent was delighted, saying his hero had an edge that she never thought he had in
him. At the time he had merely smiled and refrained from commenting on her assessment.
She didn’t need to know how much he had based that character on the man who kept
turning up in his dreams on the rare occasions Chester allowed himself to sleep these days.
He knew he couldn’t go on like this much longer, knew he had to stop feeding his overtired
body so much caffeine it couldn’t come to rest just so he could keep his overworked mind
occupied.
Yawning widely, he got up and stretched his stiff limbs. He would lie down for a few
hours of much-needed sleep later. Now the call of nature needed following first, then he
could make more coffee to get him through another four thousand words or so.
Just as he poured himself a mug of steaming, too-strong coffee, the doorbell rang. He
ignored it, just as he usually did when writing. Whoever it was would go away. They could
come back if they had a reason to see him. He added milk to make the brew more easily
bearable for his digestive system, stirred and took an appreciative gulp.
When he passed the door on his way back to his laptop, the bell was rung again, its
chime loud and reproachful in the silence of the house. He sighed. It was probably a delivery,
something that could be dealt with quickly. He opened the door and almost dropped his cup.
“Huh? What the…?”
“Hi,” Sheridan said quietly. “So you are home after all.”
“Yeah, yes, I am, I just… Wow, that’s a surprise. What are you doing here?”
“I left Jake.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
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“That,” Chester said with emphasis, “is the best news I’ve heard in a very long time.”
Sheridan smiled weakly. “I thought you’d say that.”
“What about the house?”
“Nothing to do with me. It’s in Jake’s name—he got it when his granny died.”
“Your job?”
“I quit.”
Chester whistled. “You are serious.”
“Yep.”
“How did Molly react?”
“Oh, she redefined the term pissed off.” Sheridan shrugged. “It’s her own fault, though,
basically. I asked for a few weeks’ unpaid leave but she wouldn’t let me go so I told her to
find someone else. Well, I used some other words, but I guess you get the gist.”
“Think she’s gonna give you a hard time about the reference?”
“No, I don’t think so. I know Molly. She’s all right essentially, but the job is more than
she can handle.” He grinned crookedly. “So, I’m homeless and unemployed. Wanna take me
in?”
“Oh, yes, of course. Gosh, where are my manners? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you
standing outside, I’m just a bit, uh, stunned.”
Chester took a step back to let Sheridan pass and closed the door behind him. They
stood in the hall, silently staring at each other, neither knowing what to say.
“You look…good. Better,” Chester said finally, flinching at the memory behind his
words.
“Thank you,” Sheridan said, not pointing out the obvious. He did indeed look better
than the last time Chester had seen him—the bruises and cuts on his face were gone—but he
was far from looking good. His striking silver-grey eyes shone brightly in the dark circles
around them and those high cheekbones stood out sharply over hollowed cheeks. Chester
didn’t realise he was staring until Sheridan took a hasty step closer. “Mind your coffee!”
It was too late. Chester felt the first drops of wet heat on his thigh, overreacted and
tilted the cup upside down, pouring its entire content over his own leg and Sheridan’s
helpfully outstretched arm.
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“Oh, crap, I’m so sorry!” he mumbled, mortified. Looking up, he found Sheridan
grinning.
“Thanks. Very courteous of you,” he said dryly. “I’d prefer my coffee in the cup,
though, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
Chester laughed and the spell was broken.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said again, smiling. “Let’s go through, there’s more where that came
from.”
He led Sheridan into the kitchen where he poured both of them a fresh cup. Sheridan
accepted his gratefully and took a sip.
“My, this is strong!” He blinked.
“Not good?”
“Quite the opposite. It’s just the way I like it, I’m just surprised somebody else actually
drinks it like this.”
“Writer’s fuel,” Chester explained. “I don’t usually make it quite so strong. Plus, I put
milk in it, that softens it a bit.”
“Oh, you’re working? Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No, I mean yes, I am working but you’re not interrupting. I need a break anyway and
now you’re here at least I have a reason. Oh fuck, I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
Sheridan nodded mirthfully.
“I just really wasn’t expecting…you to come here.”
“I bet you weren’t,” Sheridan answered, turning serious. “Not after…” He didn’t finish
the sentence, didn’t have to. They both remembered only too well.
“How are you?”
“I’m okay. Had a bit of a rough time, but…” he took a breath, “…that’s over now.”
Chester was still struggling with this turn of events. He had convinced himself that he
was never going to see Sheridan again and now the man was standing in his kitchen,
drinking coffee. “How come you’re here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“Oh. That’s nice.”
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“In your letter… You said I could come to see you if I wanted to.” His gaze wandered
through the kitchen, searching for something to cling to, something stable. “I don’t know if
you still mean it after… After what happened the last time.”
Ah, the letter. Sheridan’s birthday present. Chester had taken a bit of a risk with that. At
the time he had come up with it, he’d had no more than a notion, a gut feeling that Sheridan
might need it one day. The address of a good hotel in London and Chester’s own contact
details, complete with a letter that he would be there for Sheridan any time he needed
someone.
“Of course I still mean it. More than before, if anything. You’re always welcome and
you can stay for as long as you like. Really, I’m glad you’re here, just a little overwhelmed.”
“I seem to do that to you a lot.”
“It’s okay. Seize the moment. You know how rarely I shut up.”
“I know.” Sheridan winked, a teasing, strangely intimate gesture that made Chester’s
heart leap with joy as the full meaning of Sheridan’s visit was beginning to sink in.
“When did you arrive? Are you staying at the hotel?”
“I got down here last night and, yes, I am staying at the hotel. It’s a nice place, thank
you.” Sheridan frowned. “Why the hotel room?”
“I wanted you to know that you had somewhere to go to if you wanted to get away.
Somewhere that didn’t require you to put up with me, in case you didn’t want that.”
“Oh. I see. It was already paid for. You must have been sure I’d take it.”
“I was hoping.”
“Well, it appears you were right.” Sheridan looked sad and confused, clearly still
struggling to come to terms with his decision.
“Wanna sit down and give me an update?” Chester suggested softly. He led the way to
his living room and they settled on the sofa. Seeing the way Sheridan discreetly scanned his
surroundings, Chester got up again. He returned with an ashtray and placed it in front of
Sheridan. “It comes with a rule. Same for everyone. Free use on the first visit. After that it’s
the balcony.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you but I’ll go outside if you’d rather I didn’t.”
“No, it’s fine. Now tell me what happened.”
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Taking a deep breath, Sheridan looked at him uncertainly, steeling himself. He bought
himself a little more time by lighting a cigarette and taking a few long drags.
“We had a fight,” he started quietly. “After… After you left, Jake became pretty
unbearable. I never realised how much he was, well, I guess obsessing about me would be
the right way to describe it. But then he got worse than ever. He’d rearrange his shifts so that
he was off when I finished. He’d pick me up at work and take me home. He even called me
at work to make sure that I was still there. It got so bad I just couldn’t stand it anymore, so
Tuesday night I told him I didn’t want that anymore. I told him I was going to be home
whenever I wanted to, not when he’d make me.”
“Bet that didn’t go down well,” Chester said compassionately, watching the dark
clouds of memories in Sheridan’s eyes.
“It didn’t,” Sheridan confirmed. “In fact he…tied me up again that night while he was
on shift. I was late for work yesterday because he wasn’t back to release me on time and that
did it for me. I told him I wanted out, gave him all that stuff about how we didn’t work
anymore and that I needed a break. He freaked out completely, started yelling that I was an
ungrateful bastard after everything he’d done for me and that he’d never let me go.” His
voice broke and there was a giveaway shimmer in his eyes.
“Then he took an axe and destroyed my bike.” He looked up, anger replacing the
sadness. “I’ve put up with so much from him but that… He shouldn’t have done that. I
locked myself in and packed a bag, then I called a cab and left. He didn’t dare make too
much of a scene with the cabbie there but he was begging, threatening and… It was just so
bloody awful. It made me want to leave him more than ever.”
“He destroyed your bike?” Chester asked incredulously. “Why did he do that? He must
have known he couldn’t stop you that way, anyway.”
“He knew how much it means to me. That it’s the only thing I have left of…” He broke
off, tetchily blinking a tear away.
“Maybe it can be fixed.”
“Maybe. But I don’t think so. Anyway, that’s not the point.”
“I know, sunshine. I know. It was yet another way to hurt you. At least with that he
didn’t leave marks on you. Did he hit you again?”
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Sheridan drew a shuddery breath. “Let’s just say he made sure I had something to
remember him by during working hours.”
“I’m sorry, Sheridan. Really. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. I made it a lot
worse with my stupid joke, didn’t I?”
Shaking his head, Sheridan let out a sarcastic snort. “He didn’t like that. Not at all. It
wasn’t the first time he…was mad at me, though. Besides, it wasn’t really what you said, it
was what I had done. After all, I’m the one who cheated on him.”
“That doesn’t make it right for him to take it out on you physically.”
“It wasn’t right of me to fuck another guy, either,” Sheridan whispered, full of shame.
“He had every right to be angry.”
“That’s rubbish!” Chester answered hotly. “Nothing you did justifies what he did to
you. He could’ve talked to you or, I don’t know, kicked you out or something but not…that.”
“You don’t understand,” Sheridan insisted quietly.
“No, you’re right. I don’t understand. I don’t understand why he’s got such a hold over
you, why you let him get away with that. But I do know that it’s wrong and I just hope that
you’ve come to understand that, too.”
Sheridan swallowed. “Don’t judge me, please.”
“I don’t. I don’t,” he repeated softly and braced himself to address the matter. “I’m just
trying to understand, you know. It hurts me to see what he’s done to you physically and
probably still does mentally.”
Sheridan didn’t meet his eyes and Chester sighed. “I’m a bit out of my depth. I don’t
really know how to handle this but I’m willing to try, okay?”
“Okay.” Sheridan nodded slowly. “Look, I don’t understand a lot of it myself. It’s hard
to explain. Right now, I feel like I’m waking up from a very long, very bad dream. All the
time I was with him what he said seemed to make sense but now… I’m not so sure anymore.
My head’s a mess right now, there’s a lot I need to reconsider, to think about. I just don’t
know how long it’s going to take.” He sounded apologetic and Chester nodded,
understanding.
“Take your time. You don’t have to tell me anything yet. I just want you to know that,
whenever you need me, I’ll be there for you.”
“Thank you. It means a lot to me.”
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“No problem. Refill?” Chester indicated Sheridan’s empty mug.
“Yes, please.”
Chester smiled. “You know, with your level of caffeine consumption, you could easily
qualify as a writer.” He got up and went back to the kitchen.
“Speaking of which, how are you getting on with your book?”
“Very well, actually. I’m almost finished and my agent loves it so far.”
“And here I was thinking writers needed years to come up with a good book,” Sheridan
teased. He had followed Chester and leaned on the doorframe, watching him prepare more
coffee.
“Not necessarily. Sometimes it’s like… The story is there, all you have to do is write it
down.”
“Sounds interesting. Do you still want me to look at it and check the facts?”
“Yes, of course, although I didn’t get into the details as much as I thought I would.”
“Didn’t you? Why not?”
“It turned out to be a romance rather than the thriller I had in mind originally.” He
swallowed nervously, realising that Sheridan would certainly make the connection if he read
the script.
“Oh. Why’s that?”
“Because…” Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Because I wanted to make you happy
and the only way I could do that was to write you an alternate universe. “Well, as I said. Sometimes
the story is just there,” he said lamely.
“Can I still read it?”
“Sure. Here’s your coffee.”
“Thank you.” The unintended brush of fingertips sparked a reaction in Chester’s body.
He hadn’t even realised how close he was standing to Sheridan. Hadn’t realised how he had
started breathing in just a little bit more deeply to inhale the delicious, familiar scent of
leather and cigarettes that clung to Sheridan. Looking up, he met Sheridan’s eyes. Their
expression didn’t do anything to calm him down. He racked his brain for something
innocuous to say but all he could think about was how Sheridan’s shirt would feel under his
fingers if he undid the buttons, one by one and… Something about the shirt registered.
Coffee stains.
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“Oh, gosh. I just realised your sleeve’s still drenched in coffee. Maybe, uh, maybe I
should go find us something else to wear. Take the coffee back with you and make yourself
comfortable, I’ll be back in a few.”
Having changed into a fresh pair of trousers, and taking a detour via the bathroom to
splash his face with cold water, Chester brought one of his jumpers back for Sheridan. “Here.
Try this. It’s probably a bit short for you but it should do. If you give me your shirt I’ll stick it
in the machine and you can have it back in a bit.”
Sheridan stared at him sceptically. “It’s okay, I don’t need it. My shirt’s dry now
anyway.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ll never get the stain out if you don’t wash it soon.”
“It’s okay, really.”
“Oh, come on, don’t fuss and lose the shirt. It’s not as though I’ve never seen you naked
before.” He’d said it lightly but the look in Sheridan’s eyes told him that he’d unintentionally
stumbled over the truth.
“Sheridan,” he said slowly, “what is it? Come on, you can show me.”
“It’s just that… You never have seen me naked before.”
“Oh, I have,” Chester reminded him. “In the bathroom, remember?”
“Yes, but… Oh, so what. You’ll probably see eventually, anyway.” Sheridan undid the
buttons and took off his shirt, revealing his lean-muscled but well-defined upper body. He
was in good shape and would have been beautiful if it weren’t for the scars. Now Chester
understood what Sheridan had meant before about not having seen him naked. Fading
bruises mixed with new ones and the web of old scars on his right arm was clearly visible
under the pattern of fresh cuts. There was an angry pink circle of healing scar tissue around
Sheridan’s wrist. The sight was enough to make Chester’s libido shrink back and coil up
somewhere quiet.
“Shit, that really wasn’t the first time, was it?” he groaned.
“No,” Sheridan admitted, looking mortified.
“What’s this?” Chester asked. Reaching out, he gingerly touched a large, uneven scar
just below Sheridan’s ribcage. There was a matching one half an inch above his left hipbone.
They looked different from the rest. Deep, serious wounds instead of the relatively shallow
ones on his arm.
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“Please don’t tell me Jake did that, too.”
Following his gaze, Sheridan shook his head. “No. No, that was…something else.”
“What was it?”
“Nothing I…” Sheridan snapped but checked himself and continued in a calmer tone.
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”
“Maybe some other time.”
“Whenever you’re ready, sunshine,” Chester said softly. He held out the jumper once
more. “Now put that on, you tease, before the nosy octogenarian from across the road gets a
heart attack.”
Sheridan obediently slipped into the garment and grinned, striking a pose.
“Looks like you’ve grown out of this a few years ago,” Chester smirked.
“Yeah, right about the time I reached adolescence.” Sheridan deadpanned and picked at
the hem of one sleeve. It failed to reach down to his wrist. “Gosh, I never realised you were
that short.”
“Oi, careful,” Chester warned good-humouredly. “I might be a bit shorter than you are
but at least I’ve got some meat on me.”
“So I noticed.”
“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing. I’m just confirming what you said,” Sheridan said smoothly and started
doing up the buttons.
“Are you saying I’m fat?”
“I told you…just confirming.” There was a glitter in Sheridan’s eyes. Amusement. And
something else. Chester swallowed. He remembered that particular expression. He shouldn’t
even think about it, but, God, the man was hot. And probably damaged beyond repair. His
libido ignored that as it came pouncing back and settled down in his groin, purring.
“And what’s your opinion?”
“My opinion? On what? Your height-weight ratio?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well.” Sheridan tilted his head to the side and wrinkled his forehead thoughtfully.
“That’s not such an easy question, really.”
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“Bastard!”
“Especially not with your clothes on. Clothes can conceal a lot, you know.”
Chester only just stopped short of sticking his tongue out. “There isn’t a lot to conceal,”
he grumbled then noticed the flicker in Sheridan’s eyes. “Hang on… You just want to get me
out of my clothes, don’t you?”
“So what? You already got an eyeful.”
“Are you serious?”
Sheridan nodded slowly. The amusement in his eyes had been replaced by a deeper,
more primal emotion. “I want you, Chester. I’ve wanted you right from the start. And now,
with everything that’s happened… More than anything I want you to take me to bed.”
“Shh, come here. Are you sure it’s what you want? We don’t have to, you know. We
can just, I don’t know, talk, cuddle, whatever you want.”
“Chester.” The husky tinge in his voice sent a pleasant shudder to Chester’s groin. “I
want you. I need you. It was so good between us. I want that again. Take me to bed and
make me forget. Just for a while. Please don’t make me beg.” His soft, pleading tone made
Chester throw away his doubts. Lifting his head, he offered his mouth for a kiss. The
gentleness in Sheridan’s touch came as a surprise. He had sounded so urgent that Chester
had expected him to be just as desperately hungry as the last time. Instead, Sheridan took his
time caressing, exploring him with a wonderfully talented tongue and skilful fingers until he
was melting with desire.
“Bedroom,” Chester gasped. Grabbing a surprised Sheridan by the hand, he dragged
him up the stairs and straight through to the bed, barely stopping long enough for them to
get rid of their clothes.
“What do you want?” Chester mumbled in between dropping a line of kisses down
Sheridan’s stomach, drawing a long, sensual moan from him.
“I, uh, I’d love you to fuck me but I suppose you won’t want that.”
“Why…? Oh. I see. Anything you want, sweetheart, but nothing that would hurt you.”
“Can we…? Can I fuck you again?” Sheridan sounded so heartbreakingly shy, as if he
thought his wish was way out of line.
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“Mmh, I thought we were doing this for you,” Chester teased. “And now you’re
offering me the best position. Go on then.” He grappled for the lube and a condom, surprised
when Sheridan took the lube out of his hand first. “Let me?”
“Yes, sure.” Chester settled on his back and spread his legs, giving Sheridan access to
his core. Regardless of how much or how little experience Sheridan had had topping, he was
good at what he did. The touch of his tender, skilful fingers was exquisite. He stroked
Chester, loosened his muscle carefully and invaded him so gently he barely realised that he
was ready until Sheridan rolled the condom on. Again, Sheridan hesitated, asking for
permission with eyes full of dark desire before he pushed in. Chester gasped. He was so well
prepared that not even the first stretch stung but it was as if he could feel every inch of
Sheridan’s cock inside him. The first careful, shallow thrusts left him tingling all over.
“Fuck, Nicolas, what are you doing?”
“Not good?”
“Fucking fantastic. Keep going,” he panted as his brain rapidly shut down to enjoy the
ride. Smiling, Sheridan smoothly picked up the speed. Combined with his hand on Chester’s
cock, it didn’t take him long to make Chester climax. Chester didn’t allow himself much time
for recovery. Sheridan hadn’t come yet but, this time, Chester was ready to deal with that
little problem. The plan was there and it should work.
“Get on your back,” he ordered, catching his breath.
Sheridan looked surprised but pulled out and rolled on his back. He was close, that was
obvious. Chester swiftly removed the condom and took him into his mouth, caressing the
smooth skin with his tongue. Sheridan moaned and pushed up, searching for friction.
Chester gave it to him. Ignoring his need of oxygen, he feasted on Sheridan’s straining cock.
He swallowed the entire length a few times, letting him feel the contractions of his throat, in
between licking and sucking for all he was worth. His efforts weren’t in vain. Sheridan came
with a muffled cry, shooting his load deep down Chester’s throat. Chester did his best not to
choke and swallowed everything down, hoping that Sheridan would finish before oxygen
became a serious matter.
“That was…uh, good,” Sheridan purred after a while.
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“I should hope so,” Chester grinned, snuggling up against Sheridan’s warm body,
using his shoulder as a pillow. “You aren’t bad either, though. You certainly know how to
get a guy off.”
“I’m glad it was good for you.”
“How did you do that? It was like, well, so easy. I didn’t think I could be ready so fast.”
“Oh, that.” The corners of Sheridan’s mouth curled in amusement. “There’s a trick to
getting past the muscle pretty easily.”
“Really? Fuck, I’ve been having anal sex for more than a decade and no one ever told
me.”
“It’s not exactly common knowledge, you know.”
“How come you know it?”
“Don’t ask.”
“Don’t tell me it’s…”
“You don’t want to know, trust me.”
Chester decided to take his word for it.
“Gosh, I must have sounded pretty desperate, pouncing on you like that,” Sheridan
suddenly groaned, embarrassed.
“Never mind. It was…flattering. It’s nice to be wanted.”
Sheridan smiled and turned his head for a kiss. “Wanna hear something flattering?”
“Uh-huh.”
“All that time… Ever since we met in that bar and then after that… I’ve been thinking
about you. A lot. All five-foot-eight and a hundred and seventy-five pounds of you.”
“You… You know my measurements? How?”
“Comes with the job,” Sheridan said dryly.
Chester shuddered. “That is pretty disgusting.”
Grinning, Sheridan gave an apologetic shrug. “Can’t help it.”
“Fine. So you know my darkest secrets. Now I want to know yours.”
The grin disappeared from Sheridan’s face.
“Your measurements,” Chester clarified, sensing which directions his thoughts were
taking.
“Oh, right. Uh, same weight, six-two.”
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“Really? Damn, I ought to lose weight.”
“No. No, don’t. You’re fine.”
“Yeah, just a little too fat.”
“You’re not fat, Chess. You’ve got a bit of meat on you, which is…nice. Inviting to the
touch.” He ran his hand across Chester’s chest and stomach, a gentle caress to prove his
point.
“Too short?”
“Nope.” Sheridan smiled and shook his head. “What makes you think that?”
The blond demi-god in the photograph back at Jake’s place. The one you were so madly in
love with the sparks should have burnt up the paper it was printed on. And then, of course…
“I just thought maybe you liked your men a bit taller,” he said a little awkwardly.
“Why…? Oh, I see.” Sheridan tensed, obviously reading Chester’s thoughts. At least,
some of them. “It’s not a preference, Chess. Jake just happens to be taller, but I don’t mind
having to bend my head for a kiss, you know. Especially not if I get to kiss you.”
Tilting his head, he took Chester’s mouth in a soft, almost shy caress. “No, I don’t mind
at all,” he whispered huskily and kissed Chester again, more intently.
“Mmh,” he hummed contentedly when they surfaced several minutes later. Not that
anyone was keeping track of time. “I seem to have developed an oral fixation.”
“Have you?”
“Well, maybe it’s more of a Chester fixation, but I can’t seem to stop kissing you.” He
kissed the tip of Chester’s nose. “And you are perfect just the way you are.”
Chester smiled up at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a shameless flatterer,
Doctor Sheridan?”
“Not recently, no.”
“Well, you are.”
“I’m doing my best.”
“Oh, you are. And you’re surprisingly good at it, too. You know, I never would have
expected you to be the cuddly type. It’s nice, though.”
“No?” Sheridan sighed, relaxing again. “Well, I like this. Just lying here in the
afterglow, enjoying each other… It is nice.”
“You certainly look happier.”
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“Do I?”
“Yes. See, you don’t have to hurt to be happy.”
Sheridan shifted uncomfortably and Chester cursed his big mouth. Of course Sheridan
wouldn’t want his little problem to be the topic for pillow talk. Zero points for sensitivity.
But, anyway, he had woken the beast, so he might as well drag it out into the open and deal
with it. “Well, you said you needed pain to get you off. You didn’t have a problem coming
just now. Without being hurt,” he explained.
“Chester…” The tone in Sheridan’s voice made Chester look up. Sheridan didn’t meet
his eyes, but he didn’t have to.
“What?” Chester asked, full of apprehension. “What did you do?”
“Don’t freak out. It’s nothing serious, okay? I just…”
“Show me. Just show me.”
Reluctantly, Sheridan raised his free arm. A clear set of teeth marks marred the skin on
his forearm. He’d bitten down hard enough to break the skin and draw blood.
“For fuck’s sake, Nicolas! What were you thinking?”
Snatching his arm away, Sheridan sat up and looked at him miserably. “I knew you
wouldn’t…hurt me, so I had to do it myself.”
He craves the pain, embraces it. If I don’t give him what he needs, he’ll only do it himself. Is that
really what you want to deal with?
“God, Nic, I’m sorry. You should have told me. If you really need this… We could have
found something else. Something that at least doesn’t leave marks.” Chester was desolate.
For a few precious moments he’d let himself believe it could really be that easy. He should
have known better.
“You’d do that?” Sheridan asked, sounding both surprised and ashamed.
“I’d help you get what you need,” Chester said unhappily. “Although I’d rather find
another solution altogether.” He inhaled deeply. “Look, I’m way out of my comfort zone
here but we’ll find a way, okay? You’re not alone in this.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Shush. Don’t be. You’ll be fine.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
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Chapter Nine
“Add the spices and some wine and then just leave it to simmer for, uh, let’s say twenty
minutes, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Have you been paying attention?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You could at least try to pretend you were taking this seriously, you know,” Chester
scolded softly, hiding his grin behind his wine glass.
“But I am.”
“Aha. Do you really expect me to believe you?”
“Nope.” Sheridan smiled disarmingly. “But I have been paying very close attention.”
Chester raised his eyebrows. “To what, one might wonder?”
“To the cook’s cute arse. And I’m finding myself seriously attracted to the cook in
question.”
“Flatterer.”
“Mm-hmm. And you like it.” Leaving his watch post by the table, Sheridan bypassed
the cooking island to stand behind Chester.
He slid his arms around Chester’s waist and bent his head to nuzzle the nape of his
neck. “Very attracted, you know,” he repeated in a husky growl.
“Easy, sunshine.” Chester fought him off, laughing. “You won’t get any more wine if
you don’t behave yourself.”
“Maybe I just don’t want to behave myself.” The low grumble was part frustration, part
resignation with just a twist of hope.
“I know.” Turning around, Chester tilted his head up to accept a kiss. Short and chaste,
it wasn’t what either of them wanted but it was all they allowed themselves these days.
“Neither do I, but…”
“It’s better that way, I know,” Sheridan finished unhappily and stared at the glass still
in his hand, watching the wine swirl in it. Lacing his fingers with Sheridan’s, Chester rubbed
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the back of his hand with his thumb in a wordless gesture of understanding. After the initial
rush of being together, they had decided that it would be best if they took things at a slower
pace to give Sheridan time and space to adjust to the changes in his life and come to terms
with the end of his disastrous relationship.
Part of that was that they kept their physical relationship to the level of innocent
teenagers—a kiss, a brush of fingers, a hug. The most intense was a cuddle on the sofa while
watching TV. It was frustrating for both of them but Chester hoped it would give Sheridan
the time he needed to work through the distorted idea of intimacy being with Jake had left
him with.
Another part of Sheridan’s newfound independence was having his own place to live.
After a week at the hotel he had found an affordable, if tiny, flat within walking distance of
his new place of work. A long, explanatory phone call had had Molly unexpectedly apologise
and bury her grudges. She made a phone call herself, securing Sheridan a job at one of
London’s most renowned forensic institutes. It wasn’t a leading position like the one he’d
had before, a fact that Sheridan had just shrugged off, saying that it only meant less overtime,
and adding that it paid better as well, with a grin.
Separate homes, however, didn’t mean that Sheridan and Chester didn’t spend a lot of
their free time together. Chester arranged his writing time around Sheridan’s work schedule,
which gave them the chance to roam the streets of London together, allowing Sheridan to
reacquaint himself with the city. The first time out he had, very much out of character,
behaved like a little boy in a playground, looking this way and that, pointing out buildings
and places to a rather bewildered Chester. It had taken a while for Chester to understand that
Sheridan was simply bursting with happiness to be back in the city he’d grown up in.
During a candlelit dinner at a cosy, discreet restaurant he had quietly admitted that he
had never liked the North and had been homesick ‘about an hour before we got past Luton’.
He hadn’t specified the ‘we’ and Chester hadn’t felt the need to ask. Another fact Sheridan
had admitted to during that dinner, this time laughing, was that he couldn’t cook a decent
meal to save his life. Chester, a self-declared chef de home-cuisine, couldn’t possibly accept
that and made it his goal to teach him how to prepare a few simple but nutritious dishes. The
goal turned out to be a rather ambitious one.
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During the evenings dedicated to the art of cooking, Sheridan usually just stood in his
accustomed spot, leaning on the doorframe, a glass of wine in his hand, and watched Chester
chop away at vegetables, fry meat and stir creamy sauces. Whenever Chester asked him to
take over, a sweet, irresistible smile would appear on his face when he said he’d rather not
risk spoiling the delicious food Chester had started preparing.
It wasn’t until a week had passed that Chester realised that, far from wanting to
improve his own rudimentary skills, Sheridan simply took it as his opportunity to have his
personal chef. He contributed his share with the generous provision of wonderful
ingredients, usually turning up with at least a bottle of tongue-pleasuring wine and insisting
on paying whenever they went food shopping together.
“Is it nice?” Sheridan’s voice interrupted Chester’s thoughts.
“Huh?”
“Is it nice?”
“What?”
“Not what. Where.” Grinning, Sheridan sipped some more of his pick of the day, a
delightful, smooth rich red wine that would be a perfect match for the lamb stew Chester
was cooking. Really, for someone who allegedly couldn’t even boil potatoes, Sheridan had an
amazing ability to pick the best wines.
“There, you’re doing it again. Drifting off. Care to tell me where to?”
“Oh, sorry.” Chester smiled apologetically. “Nothing in particular. I was
just…wondering if you’re going to at least lay the table seeing as you got me to do the
cooking yet again.”
Sheridan’s grin widened and, for a brief moment, a flirtatious note swung in it, sending
a spark of silver into his grey eyes. They wouldn’t be able to continue this near-platonic
relationship much longer, Chester realised. Three weeks were a long time to ignore the
immense attraction between them. Admittedly it wasn’t all on Sheridan’s side but watching
him move between table and cupboard, narrow hips swinging in time to the music on the
radio, his T-shirt ridden up to reveal half an inch of silky skin just where his spine curved
into that delicate little dip made it easy to blame it entirely on him.
This time it was the doorbell that brought Chester back to attention.
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“I’ll get it!” Sheridan called cheerfully and headed for the door. “Be a darling and finish
laying the table, would you?”
“Lazy bastard!” Chester called after him, grinning.
“I love you t- fuck!”
The sound of shattering glass and the silence that followed had Chester drop the plates
where he was standing and run for the door.
One hand on the doorknob, the fingers of the other still curled, as if clinging on to the
glass that lay smashed on the floor, Sheridan stood in a mess of red wine and shards, bare
feet splashed with purple stains. A trickle of blood seeped from a cut on the side of his foot,
mixing with the spilled wine.
“Fuck, Nicolas, don’t move!” Chester warned but there was no need to. Like a rabbit
staring into the headlights of the car that was going to crush it, Sheridan stood frozen to the
spot, eyes fixed unblinking on the visitor.
“Jake.” It was barely even a gasp, a thought turned to sound by sheer horror.
“Hello, Nicky. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Jake said pleasantly.
“You are,” Chester snarled, ignoring the glittering, sharp fragments on his lunge
forwards. This time he was ready to shield Sheridan physically if he had to. Not that he’d
stand a chance against Jake, but it was the thought that counted. Maybe this would be a case
of determination rendering him supernatural powers.
Jake watched him with a smile. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to stay long.”
“You’re wrong,” Chester informed him coldly. “You’re not staying at all.”
Sheridan was still motionless, staring at Jake. He could have been made of wax if it
weren’t for his heaving chest and the sound of his laboured breathing.
“No need to be hostile, Mr Banning. I’m just here to pick up what’s mine.”
“There’s nothing here that belongs to you, Mister Simmons.” Chester thought he made a
fairly good job of letting his voice transmit his contempt.
“Oh, but there is.” Sickeningly sweet smile still firmly in place, Jake turned to Sheridan.
“Time to come home, Nicky.”
“Leave him alone,” Chester snarled.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“But I am talking to you. Leave. Him. Alone.”
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“How sweet. Do you really think he’s come to stay with you?”
“That’s entirely his decision but, fuck, you got me doing it, too.” Chester sighed
irritably and glanced at Sheridan, who was still looking at Jake blankly. “It’s up to him.”
“If he’s so keen on staying then why doesn’t he say so?” Jake asked nastily, finally
dropping the pretence of friendliness.
“I think he made his point clear when he left you. Anyway, this is my house and I’m
telling you to leave.”
“Think you can make me?” Jake flexed his fingers in an almost careless, but nonetheless
threatening gesture.
“Don’t fight over me. Please.” Although barely audible, Sheridan’s words easily caught
the attention of both men, interrupting the argument.
“Nicky?”
Sheridan seemed to at last overcome his shock. He drew his hand back and his voice
sounded more like himself when he said, “Just leave, Jake.”
“I will,” Jake answered, sounding like a loving, patient uncle indulging a child’s
temper. “As soon as you stop your little tantrum and come with me.”
“No.”
“Nicky.” A hint of impatience. “You’ve had your run. I’ve been very tolerant, but now
it’s time you remembered who you belong to.”
“It’s not you, that’s for sure,” Sheridan whispered.
“Ah, Nicky, but you’ll always belong to me, don’t you know that? After what you did,
after everything we’ve been through, you’ll always be mine.”
His words were unsettlingly familiar. The echo of what he had told Sheridan that
horrible day in the tiny, dark Yorkshire house. And, like on that day, the words had an eerie
effect on Sheridan. Shoulders sinking, he lowered his head in submissive resignation.
Jake didn’t miss the change in his posture. “Good boy,” he praised softly. “I knew
you’d come to your senses.” Turning to Chester he added with a sneer, “Doesn’t look like
he’s so keen on staying with you after all now, does it?”
Chester frowned. “Why do you do this to him? Just let him go, you know he’s miserable
as hell with you.”
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Jake shrugged, a cruel smile on his lips. “Because I can. Face it, Banning. He doesn’t
want to be happy. You know what he wants, what he needs, and so does he. And he knows
that I’m the one who gives it to him. Let’s go, Nicky. I’ll take you home.”
He held out his hand and, to Chester’s horror, Sheridan made a reluctant step in his
direction, swaying slightly as he moved. A puppet on his strings, Chester thought with a
sinking feeling in his heart.
“I don’t know what kind of hold you have over him but apparently it’s still working,”
he said desolately.
Jake gave him a smug grin. “Yes, it is. And you’re just jealous because you can’t have
him.”
Chester nodded. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. I’m jealous.” He turned to Sheridan who
lingered on the doorstep, looking confused and lost. “Nicolas, listen. I want to be with you
more than anything but I will never force you into staying with me. It’s your decision. If you
want me, I’ll always be there for you but, if you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you. The
choice is yours. You’re free to do as you please.”
Sheridan shook his head, slowly, as if waking from a dream. A full-body shiver ran
through him and he grabbed the door for support. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, grey eyes
brimming with tears. “I can’t. Just… Leave me alone. I don’t ever want to see you again so
don’t try to find me, don’t call. I’m serious. Next time you do, I’m going to call the police.”
“Nicky, don’t…” The door slammed into Jake’s face before he got a chance to finish his
sentence. Turning around, Sheridan leaned on it as if trying to block it with his body. His
cheeks were streaked with tears but no sound other than his strained breathing escaped him.
Chester watched him, needing a moment to understand what had happened. Sheridan
shivered but it was the blood on the floor that startled Chester into action.
“Fuck, Nic, don’t move! All that glass… You already cut yourself. Don’t make it worse.
Just… Just stay where you are, okay?”
“Huh?” Sheridan looked up, blinking tears from his eyes. “Oh. Sorry, I…”
“Don’t move!”
Ignoring the shards, Chester crunched them under his shoes as he went to hold
Sheridan upright.
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“Oh, God, did I really just do that?” Sheridan groaned after a few moments of quietly
breathing into Chester’s neck.
“Slam the door in Jake’s face?” Chester nodded and grinned. “Yes, you did. And that
scene is high up on my list of all-time favourites.” He ran his fingers through Sheridan’s silky
hair, a gentle, comforting caress. “Think you can manage for a moment? I’ll just clean up the
glass so you can move then I’ll sort you out, okay?”
Sheridan nodded wordlessly. By the time Chester had swept up the mess of glass, wine
and blood, he had calmed down a bit.
“Can you walk?” Chester asked concerned.
“Yeah, sure, it’s just a scratch. Ouch, fuck!” Sheridan hissed as he tried to shift his
weight on his left foot. “I think there’s a bit stuck. Oh, sod it!” Hobbling, he made it to the
kitchen where he sank down on a chair.
Chester put a first-aid kit on the table in front of him. “Just the average household
edition, I’m afraid.”
“It’ll do.” Sheridan inspected his foot a little gingerly then treated it with his usual cool
professionalism while Chester went to fetch and open another bottle of wine. He put a fresh
glass and the ashtray in front of Sheridan, shrugging as he caught his surprised glance. They
deserved to break some rules on an evening like this.
Cleaned up, Sheridan’s wounds didn’t look so bad, after all. Mostly they were just a few
shallow grazes. Just like…
“What?” Sheridan frowned, following Chester’s stare.
“It’s just…” Chester sighed. “How come every time that bastard Jake is near you you’re
bleeding?”
Sheridan’s eyes softened. “It’s the last time. I promise.”
“Good. I’m proud of you, sunshine. I know it must be bloody hard for you, but you’re
holding on really well. I’m not sure if you’re still hungry but I think we should eat
something.” Getting up, he breathed a kiss on the frown on Sheridan’s forehead then went to
fetch their dinner.
They ate in pensive, gloomy silence, seemingly each lost in his own thoughts.
“Thank you,” Sheridan said quietly when they had finished. “It was delicious. As
always,” he added with a faint smile.
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“You’re welcome, sunshine. You do realise, though, that one of these days you will
actually have to do the cooking yourself, don’t you?”
“Oh, dear, will I really?” Sheridan sighed in mock horror.
Chester nodded gravely.
“But, I told you, I’m a hopeless case,” Sheridan protested.
“So you keep saying. Just how on earth did you manage to reach your biblical age
without being able to feed yourself?”
“Biblical age? Hey, you’ve got four years on me, mister,” Sheridan reminded playfully,
his mood lightening. “Besides, it’s not that difficult to find a decent place to eat out and there
is a surprising variety of decent microwave dinners available these days.”
Chester shuddered and groaned. “Have you even tried cooking yourself yet?”
“I did when I started college,” Sheridan shrugged. “It was pretty disgusting. Honestly,
the only food I can prepare which isn’t a health code violation would be pancakes.”
“Pancakes? Why pancakes?”
Sheridan shrugged. “I loved them as a child. Then at uni I used to make them quite
often for…” His smile dimmed. “Um, back then.” Chester watched him stare into his glass
for a moment. One day he’d find out what it was that Sheridan wasn’t telling him but they’d
had enough trouble from the past for one night.
“Hmm, admittedly pancakes doesn’t sound all bad,” Chester mused. “American style?
Maybe you could make them for us next time.”
Sheridan shook his head. “Not American, I’m afraid. They’re more like French crêpes,
but thicker. I haven’t made them in ages, though, and I don’t really remember how to do
them anyway, so I don’t think you’ll want to take the risk.”
“Oh, I don’t mind being a guinea pig for your cooking experiments,” Chester said
cheerfully.
“You’d be surprised.”
“I trust that I’m in capable hands with you. You’re a doctor, after all.”
“You seem to forget that I did my doctorate in forensics.”
“Well, then, at least you’ll be able to find out why exactly your cooking killed me,”
Chester said dryly.
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Sheridan looked at him with an expression of disbelief then started laughing. “You
really are quite something, do you know that? You find a joke in every situation, don’t you?”
Grinning, Chester shrugged. “In my experience humour does help in almost every
situation, so, yes, I’m trying to see the bright side.”
“Maybe that’s why I like you so much,” Sheridan said softly. “You bring the light into
my life.” For a moment it seemed as if he wanted to say more but he just took a deep breath
instead and got up to clear the table, visibly grateful when Chester dismissed him for a
cigarette al fresco.
They settled on the sofa to watch a film afterwards. By the time the credits were
running, Chester realised he didn’t have a clue about what he’d just seen. Sheridan had
watched most of the film from the balcony, burning up half a packet of cigarettes. They’d
worked their way through the second bottle of wine and Chester was feeling quite mellow.
Looking up, he found Sheridan staring at him uncertainly. “Chess?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I…? Can I stay with you tonight?”
“Of course.” Chester brushed the back of Sheridan’s hand with his fingertips. “Are you
sure it’s what you want?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”
“Please don’t misunderstand me. I’d love you to stay here but I just don’t want you to
rush anything. Or to feel like you owe me something. After all, it’s been only three weeks
since you ended your last relationship and you’re quite obviously not completely over Jake
yet.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sheridan sighed unhappily. “The truth is, I don’t really trust myself
right now.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that I think I might do something stupid if no one’s there to stop me.”
“Oh. Stupid as in…?”
Raising his right arm, Sheridan revealed the soft, scarred skin on the inside. “Not all of
that was Jake’s doing, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” Chester nodded.
“You do?”
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“Yes.”
“How?”
“Jake told me. That day at his place.”
“Yeah, right,” Sheridan said absently, as if he really hadn’t remembered the
conversation until this moment. Traumatised as he had been, chances were he really had
trouble recalling the details. “You knew it before, though, didn’t you? That something was
up.”
“Yes. Yes, I did.”
“How?”
“I guess I just recognised the signs.” Chester shrugged. “You’re not keeping your
tendency towards self-destruction as well hidden as you might think you do.”
“Not?” Sheridan toyed with his empty wine glass, visibly embarrassed.
“No. The cuts are the most obvious, of course. Then there are way too many cigarettes.”
Chester pointedly looked from the already more than half-full ashtray to the lighter Sheridan
was playing with restlessly.
Rolling his eyes, Sheridan shrugged. “So I smoke. I know it’s not fashionable anymore
but I happen to like it.”
“You’re a pathologist, Sheridan. I’m sure you’ve had someone on your table who’s died
of lung cancer.”
“Well, of course, but that doesn’t mean I’m doing it because I hope it will kill me.”
“No, maybe not. But you know what it does to your body and you do it anyway.”
“That’s because it’s a bloody addiction.”
“When did you start?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Just answer my question.”
Sheridan sighed. “At eighteen. Before I became a pathologist, before I even studied
medicine. Happy?”
“Did you ever quit?”
Sheridan gave a brief, unwilling nod.
“When did you start again?”
“About two years ago.”
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Right around the time you and Jake moved to Halifax. Chester didn’t say it out loud. “Why
did you quit?”
“Because… Just because.” One look into Sheridan’s haunted eyes confirmed Chester’s
assumption. He didn’t even need Sheridan to give an answer. Handsome hadn’t liked it.
“So there’s cigarettes. Then there’s the bike.”
“That hardly counts,” Sheridan protested.
“It does if you’re riding it after a couple of drinks.”
“But I…”
“After your birthday party. After the first time we met. You had more than one drink at
the bar and you were definitely not fit to drive after your birthday party.”
“Fine. Anything else?”
“Picking up strangers in dubious places.”
“Shit,” Sheridan groaned. “You’re really making everything count, aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t count it if you hadn’t offered me to do you bare.”
“It was an exception. I told you I’m clean and I am. I get tested on almost everything
about once a month because of my job.”
Chester nodded gravely. “But you couldn’t know if I was and that’s an awful risk to
take. Do I really have to tell you about STDs?”
“No. No, you don’t.” Sheridan stubbed out his cigarette irritably. “Fine. So I’m
irresponsible and don’t take care of myself.”
“I don’t think it’s that. You’re doing things which you very well know aren’t good for
you but you just do them anyway. Even more, it’s like you’re seeking the danger, accepting
that you might get hurt. And Jake… What is it about him? Why did you let him treat you that
way?”
Sheridan ran his fingers through his hair in a distressed motion. He sighed. “Not now,
okay? Maybe I’ll… I’ll tell you but I’m just not ready yet.”
“It’s okay. We’re taking it at your pace, sunshine, remember?”
Sheridan nodded. He looked at Chester curiously. “You said you recognised the signs.
How?”
Chester heaved a sigh. His very own ghost of traumas past was finally catching up to
haunt him, it seemed.
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“My father died when I was ten. Mum was alone for a few years after that but
eventually she found someone new. At first he seemed like a really nice guy but then, once
he’d moved in, he showed his true colours.”
Sheridan raised his eyebrows and Chester nodded. “Yes. Started bossing her around,
drank too much, beat her up when things didn’t go the way he wanted, the whole deal. She
took it, made up excuses for him, said he loved her and was only doing it for her own good.”
He gave Sheridan a meaningful look and this time Sheridan nodded his understanding.
“What about you?” he asked quietly. “Did he…hurt you, too?”
“He didn’t beat me up, as such, not the way he did her, anyway, but he’d slap me in the
face or make me stay in my room when he wanted me out of the way. It was the same with
my little sister. As I grew older and began to understand what was going on I talked back to
him, tried to make him stop, tried to make my mother see that what he did was wrong, but it
wasn’t until my sis started cutting herself that she finally accepted the truth and booted him
out.”
“I’m sorry,” Sheridan said softly. “That must have been horrible for you.”
“It was.”
“How long was he around for?”
“Three years.”
Reaching out, Sheridan took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I never would have
thought… You always seem to take everything so lightly, as if you didn’t have a care in the
world.”
“Yeah, I know. The shrink I used to see said it was a defence mechanism. Apparently,
humour helps me to cope with an unpleasant reality.”
Sheridan was drawing random little circles on the back of Chester’s hand with his
thumb, slowly digesting the information, it seemed.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said after a while. “It’s still hard for you, isn’t it?”
Chester swallowed around the lump in his throat. “It is. It does get easier after a while,
though. You forget a lot of it eventually and only remember the most…crucial bits at times.”
“I see.”
Following the wordless invitation of the tug at his hand, Chester snuggled up in
Sheridan’s arms, head resting against his chest. Sheridan’s heart beat a strong, soothing
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rhythm into his ears and competent fingers sought and found the right pressure points as
they massaged his scalp.
It felt good to simply be held like this, the feel of Sheridan’s solid strength giving him
the comfort words couldn’t have expressed.
“Did you mean what you said earlier?” Sheridan asked softly after a while.
“I usually do but which part are you talking about?”
“The one where you said that you want to be with me more than anything.”
“Oh. That.” Chester smiled. “Yes, I meant that.”
“Then why… Why don’t we just go upstairs and forget all this crap?”
“Oh, Nicolas,” Chester sighed. Reaching out, he curled his fingers around Sheridan’s
hand in a reassuring gesture. “It’s not that I don’t want to, sunshine, but I don’t think it’s
what you need. Remember, we agreed to take it slowly?”
Disappointment darkened Sheridan’s features. “Maybe it’s what we both need,
though,” he objected huskily. “And what if I don’t want to?”
“Take it slowly, you mean? I don’t know. What do you want?”
Sheridan looked at him. “Generally? You. Right now? More than anything I want you
to take me upstairs and fuck the feel of that bastard out of me forever.”
“Fuck, Sheridan,” Chester groaned. “It’s hard enough not to jump you as it is but you’re
making it damn near impossible if you’re saying things like that.” Holding Sheridan’s gaze,
he trailed a finger down his cheek. “I’d love to, I think you know that, but we talked about it
and agreed that it would be better to give you some time. It’s too soon for you. Besides, there
are still some answers I would like to get before we take this any further.”
“Such as?”
“I think you know what it all comes down to.”
Chewing his lip with a thoughtful expression on his face Sheridan nodded. “I probably
do.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “I know and you will get your answers.
Just not yet. Forget that I brought it up, okay?”
“It’s okay, sunshine. Don’t worry. Let’s call it a night and go to bed.”
There was an awkward moment when they met in the hall as Sheridan returned from
the bathroom, showered and smelling of toothpaste, a towel wrapped around his hips.
Chester felt his resolution waver. Sheridan was undeniably attractive, even more so almost
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naked and flushed from the shower, and it would be so easy. Too easy, maybe, to just grab
him, wrap him up in a tight hug and kiss him breathless. Sheridan wouldn’t say no, would
probably just respond willingly to whatever Chester suggested.
The sparkle in those silver-grey eyes told him that Sheridan’s thoughts were trailing
along the same lines.
“Chester…” There was a nice giveaway tightness in Sheridan’s voice and Chester didn’t
stand a chance. They kissed, hungrily savouring each other and letting their tongues dance in
a greedy, passionate tangle.
“I need you,” Sheridan panted in a precious second snatched from their kiss. Chester
had him against the wall and silenced him with another deep kiss, twisting his fingers in
Sheridan’s hair as he gave in to the unavoidable. He had known it would happen, was
surprised even that the situation hadn’t arisen earlier. Now he would just have to see if his
plan was working.
Leaning back, he looked up into Sheridan’s eyes. Darkened with arousal, they didn’t do
much to hide his desire. Neither did the pleading tone in his voice. “Please don’t tell me to
stop again.”
“I won’t.” Chester smiled reassuringly. “Let’s go to bed. You’re too tall for me to fuck
you against a wall.”
They lost what was left of Chester’s clothes on the way to the bed. Sheridan lay down in
a fluid movement and stretched out on the mattress, his pale skin a beautiful contrast to the
charcoal sheets. Straddling him, Chester settled his knees on either side of Sheridan’s hips
and admired the view.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, disappointed when Sheridan looked
away, embarrassed. “You are,” he confirmed earnestly.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“You don’t have to sweet-talk me. Just fuck me.” There it was again, Sheridan’s shrewd
idea of sex. It was just the act, stripped of emotions and tenderness.
“Look at me, Nicolas.” Chester waited until Sheridan had obliged before he continued.
“I know I don’t have to. It’s true, though. You are stunning.” Lowering his head he kissed
Sheridan’s protest away. “And I’m going to tell you that until you believe it.”
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“Chess…”
“Shush.” The next series of kisses left Sheridan panting and arching up, his hard cock
bumping Chester’s own erection. Time for the next step.
“I think this time we should set the rules first.”
“Huh?” Confusion battled with arousal on Sheridan’s face.
“Rules,” Chester repeated. “I don’t want any surprises like the last time.”
“Oh.” Mortified, Sheridan closed his eyes and quietly added, “You know what it’s like
with me.”
“And you know the deal, sweetheart. I’ll do anything you want, give you anything you
need, but I’m not going to hurt you when you’re in bed with me.”
“But you said we could find something.”
“I know. And I think I have.”
Sheridan looked sceptical and not really enthusiastic. “So what’s the plan?”
Smiling, Chester shook his head. “Let me surprise you. I just want you to understand
that this is not going to be about pain.”
“I haven’t got much choice, have I?”
“You’ll always have a choice with me and I’ll always respect a no. I’d never force you
into anything you don’t want.”
The battle Sheridan fought with himself showed on his face but it was mercifully brief.
“Okay. Surprise me.”
Chester held his breath. This was the part most likely to go wrong. “Let me tie you up?”
Sheridan looked up at him sceptically. “Tie me up?” He frowned. “I said surprise me,
but that is unexpected. I’m not sure…”
“I can understand if you don’t want it after…what happened. But you don’t need to
worry. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“That,” Sheridan said slowly, “is what I’m concerned about.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. You will ache. Just not hurt.” Gripping Sheridan’s softening
cock, he gave it a few inspiring strokes that quickly restored its enthusiasm. “I’ll make this
good for you, I promise. Trust me.”
“Okay.” Sheridan took a deep breath. “I trust you.”
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“Put your arms to the headboard. Yes, just like that.” Chester reached under the bed
and pulled out the box he’d put there a few days earlier, making sure it stayed out of
Sheridan’s line of vision as he took out the restraints he’d bought. Made of leather so smooth
it felt almost like silk and cushioned with velvet, they were too soft to cause damage but still
an efficient means of restriction. Having tested them thoroughly, Chester knew that Sheridan
wouldn’t be able to free himself, meaning he wouldn’t be able to hurt himself, either.
Leaning up, he fastened the first restraint around Sheridan’s wrist and tied it to the solid
wooden rail. A quick glance into Sheridan’s face assured him. Sheridan didn’t look too
concerned and Chester did the same with his other arm.
“Okay? Are you sure you can hold the position for a while? I don’t want you getting
pins and needles.”
“It’s okay.” Sheridan seemed surprised by the question. Bet Jake never bothered to ask you
that when he tied you up.
“If you want out, just say the word, okay?” Chester said softly.
“Uh, okay.” Bet he never told you that, either.
“What a view.” Chester purred appreciatively. “I could get used to having you in my
bed.”
Really, with his long, slender body bound and stretched out like that, Sheridan looked
positively decadent. Chester gave him a thorough once-over, first with his eyes, then he ran
his hands over every inch of skin he could reach. Arching into the touch, Sheridan offered his
body to Chester’s caresses. When he was done stroking Sheridan from fingertips to toes, he
moved back up, ready to start all over again, this time with his lips and tongue.
“Chess, what are you doing?”
“Isn’t that obvious?” Chester whispered between kisses.
“Uh, not really. I thought you were gonna fuck me.” Sheridan sounded puzzled but
nicely throaty.
“I am, sunshine, I am. Just not yet.”
“Well, what are you doing?”
“Making love to you.”
“Huh?”
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“Making love. So far, whenever we did it, it was mostly just a quick shag. Taking the
edge off. Tonight I want to take my time with you. I want to make you feel good.”
“Can’t you just fuck me, please?”
“Oh, I will.” Chester nodded. “When I’m done caressing and kissing every inch of you.
Then, and only then, I am going to do what you asked me to and fuck the feel of him right
out of you. I’m going to fuck you until me inside you is all you can think about. Now shut up
and kiss me.”
Sheridan didn’t complain anymore when Chester ended the kiss after a while and
started nibbling his way from Sheridan’s mouth along his jaw to his ear. He licked the lobe
and ran his tongue along the rim then wandered down Sheridan’s neck, lingering on the soft
spot of skin where he could feel the blood pulse under his lips. Strong, fast and so very much
alive.
A series of butterfly kisses followed, brushed along both collarbones and back, then all
the way down south to the twin ridges of Sheridan’s hip bones, always paying attention to
what drew the most sensual moans from Sheridan’s mouth. His body was wonderfully
responsive and Chester had no trouble learning the map of Sheridan’s pleasure zones. The
little hollow just below the left hip bone was a definite hot spot, two inches higher and he
tensed, but not in a good way. Remembering the scars, Chester avoided the area and licked a
line up to Sheridan’s nipple. Alternately lapping with the tip of his tongue and grazing it
with his teeth, he teased the little nub of flesh into a tight, swollen bud before turning his
attention to the right one.
“Oh, God, Chess… You’re killing me.” For the first time, Sheridan tugged at his
restraints but it wasn’t the wish to be freed that made him frown when what little slack he
got was used up.
“I don’t think so,” Chester smiled. “You’re a healthy young male, I think you can
handle this. You can probably handle quite a bit more, I should think.” Nipping just the tip
of the left nipple with his teeth, he had Sheridan hissing and squirming. The headboard
creaked as he pulled on his ties in earnest, but it was still just an instinctive response. There
was no concern in his dark silver eyes, only the pure fire of arousal.
“Like that, do you?” Chester teased and closed his teeth around the right nipple.
“Fuck, yes!” Sheridan growled. “I think I could come just from that.”
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“Could you?” Mentally patting his own shoulder, Chester looked up.
“Don’t know. Probably not, but, ah, fuck, getting close.” Eyes half closed, stammering
and flushed, he was indeed close to where Chester wanted him. Reaching into his box, he
took out another of his new acquisitions, still watching Sheridan. “What do you think about
toys?”
“T-toys?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Depends on what you got.”
Chester showed him and Sheridan’s eyebrows promptly went up. “My, you are kinky,
aren’t you?”
Smiling, Chester shrugged. “I got it for you, sunshine, but I won’t use it if you don’t like
it. It’s your call.”
Sheridan looked at the dildo thoughtfully. Medium-sized, it was impressive without
being scary, and Chester suspected that Sheridan could handle it easily. He had picked it for
feel rather than looks, knowing that the appeal lay in its ribbed shape. It would provide just
enough friction for stimulation, each bump adding to the sensation.
“Not sure. We… It’s been a while,” Sheridan said uncertainly.
“Let me try and I’ll stop if you don’t like it?”
“Why don’t you just fuck me?”
“Because this little bugger is going to feel pretty sensational inside you. Besides, it lasts
longer than I do.” And I can focus on spoiling you so much better if my own dick doesn’t get in the
way.
“Go on, then. But I do want you in me at some point tonight, okay?”
“Okay, promise. There’s something else I’d like to use on you, though.”
“What’s that?” Sheridan was beginning to sound mildly impatient but his eyes widened
at the sight of the cock ring Chester dangled in front of him. “Fuck, you are kinky. Not sure I
want to know what else you’ve got in your little box down there.”
“Just rubbers and plenty of lube. Can I put it on you?”
Sheridan looked unconvinced. “This isn’t going to turn into some weird control thing, is
it? Just ‘cause, I’d really like to get off at some point. And soon would be good.”
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“Oh, you will, I’ll see to that. Now push your hips up a bit so I can put a cushion under
your bum.”
Chester moved down the bed and settled between Sheridan’s legs, stroking each firm
thigh. Sheridan’s cock bobbed right in front of him, begging for his attention. Almost in
passing he caught it with his mouth and sucked in the first inch. Sheridan shuddered and
groaned, instinctively trying to thrust in deeper.
“Not yet, sunshine.” Fastening the ring around it, Chester abandoned his cock and gave
Sheridan’s right butt cheek a light pat then gripped both globes firmly and spread them. A
muscle in Sheridan’s leg flexed but he remained still, exposed and ready for Chester to take
him. The headboard creaked tellingly when the first moist kiss met the puckered skin.
Smiling, Chester employed just a little bit of teeth on the delicate skin before instantly
soothing it with his tongue. He repeated the action a few times before gently dipping in. The
effect wasn’t lost on Sheridan. He gasped and this time both of his legs twitched. “Oh, fuck,
Chester!”
Deciding to literally let him cool down a bit Chester pulled back and blew on the moist
skin.
“Don’t like it?” he asked innocently and pushed one finger in to the knuckle.
“Unghh!”
“Sorry, what was that?” He wriggled his finger playfully, loosening the muscle.
“I… Oh, what… Oh, yes,” Sheridan panted incoherently. A second finger joined the
first and his body opened up easily. Chester let him enjoy the sensation for a bit then lined
up the dildo. Technically Sheridan was probably still too tight for a quick intrusion but lots of
lube would do the trick. The first inch went in almost unnoticed but the bump that followed
made Sheridan snatch a sharp breath. Chester eased off a bit to let him adjust then swiftly
pushed in past the bulge. Sheridan yelled, but as expected there was no pain in the sound,
just excitement.
The rest of the toy slid in easily and Chester took his time fucking Sheridan with it, all
the time carefully watching his reactions. A litany of needy, whimpering noises streamed
from Sheridan’s lips as he flexed his hips to meet each stroke. His bound cock was leaking a
glistening, sticky puddle of pre-cum on his stomach and looked hard enough to be aching to
the point of painful, just the way Chester wanted him. He leant down and took it into his
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mouth, no more than just the head but closing his lips tightly. Sheridan let out a pitiful groan
and promptly tried to push in.
“Nn-nn,” Chester warned and put his free hand on Sheridan’s hip to hold him back.
“Chester, please!”
“Please, what?” Chester murmured, slowly jerking Sheridan off.
“Let me come, you’re killing me!”
“Think you’re ready?”
“Fuck, yes! I’m so ready I’ll burst in a second!”
“Can you come like this?”
A tiny frown wrinkled Sheridan’s forehead as he tried to consider both meanings of the
question. “Not sure… I… Fuck, no, not with the bloody ring,” he panted, desperately
thrusting into Chester’s hand.
“Good.” Chester lowered his head and took Sheridan’s cock in until he almost choked
on it. Synchronising his motions, he swallowed him down in turn with shoving the dildo in.
Gasping and twitching uncontrollably, Sheridan clearly didn’t know whether to push
up or back. Chester kept going until he felt him melt into a shivering heap of arousal.
Changing the angle of the toy, he made sure the next thrust would hit the right spot then he
snapped the cock ring open. His timing was flawless. He swallowed around Sheridan’s cock
at the exact moment the first wave hit. Jerking uncontrollably, Sheridan pumped what felt
like gallons of cum down Chester’s throat. Somehow Chester managed not to choke and
didn’t let up until he had sucked every last drop out. Stroking Sheridan’s hips, he gently
eased him back down.
“How do you feel?” he asked when Sheridan opened his eyes after a while.
“Fucked,” Sheridan deadpanned. “Still gonna fuck me properly?”
Chester smiled. “Are you saying this was improper?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Can you take it?”
“I do want you in me, you know. And you promised.”
“True. I promised.”
“Just maybe… Don’t touch my dick too much, will you? I think it might just fall off if
you do. I’m seriously over-sensitised.”
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“I told you you would ache.”
“I can’t remember ever having been that hard. Now fuck me, love, before you get there
too. Oh, and…” Looking up meaningfully, he gave his restraints a light tug.
Having ignored his own arousal for far too long, Chester felt it flare up and run through
his veins like fire. He quickly undid Sheridan’s ties, grateful when Sheridan snatched the
condom out of his trembling hands and swiftly rolled it on to Chester’s straining erection.
Following Sheridan’s hands, he let himself be guided into the sweet, welcoming heat of his
body, feeling strong arms hold him tightly as he gave in to his own need at last. Sheridan
was wonderfully supple underneath him and met each deep, hard thrust, took everything
Chester gave him until, at last, Chester crashed in his arms, gasping, spent and deliriously
happy.
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Chapter Ten
“Wakey-wakey, rise and shine.” Though surprisingly tuneful, Sheridan’s husky baritone
was not what Chester wanted to hear first thing in the morning.
“Go away,” he grumbled indignantly. “It’s too early.”
“It’s quarter past seven already.”
“That is too early.”
“Is not. I’ve brought you coffee.”
“Hmph.”
“You can thank me later, sweetheart.”
A sinking of the mattress, then the delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee tickled
Chester’s nose. Without a doubt it was scalding hot and indecently strong, just the way
Sheridan loved it.
“Let me sleep.”
“Nope.”
“Then go switch the radio back to my station, will you?”
“Nn-nn.”
Chester sighed. “How come you’re up?”
“I’m an early riser,” Sheridan said cheerfully, then, a little sheepish, added, “I needed a
cigarette.”
“Can’t you just go and have another?”
“No, Mr Grumpy-in-the-morning, I won’t. At least, not yet. I’ve got plans for today and
you’re a vital part of them.”
“I’m sure they can be delayed. Or cancelled. And don’t you dare take the duvet away.”
“Oh, I don’t think you’ll want the plans cancelled.”
“Why? I’m sure I… Oh. Ohh. Unghh, maybe you’re right.”
Sheridan’s velvety mouth felt rather sensational around Chester’s suddenly very
enthusiastic cock and it didn’t take Sheridan long to make him groan and writhe in orgasmic
pleasure.
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“Good morning, sweetheart,” Sheridan whispered innocently when Chester’s breathing
had slowed down to normal.
“Yes, indeed,” Chester sighed contentedly as he surfaced. “I think I like your plan.”
“Do you?” Sheridan stroked his side with soft fingertips.
“Uh-huh.”
“I hope you’ll like the rest as much.”
“Why, what do you want?” Chester groaned. He could feel the scrape of Sheridan’s
stubble on his hip as Sheridan rested his head on his stomach.
There was a smile in his voice as he said, “I wanna go out. Camden Market, maybe,
then food shopping. Back home, a fuck, cooking, dinner and a bottle of wine, then more sex.
What do you think?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Chester grinned and pulled him up to kiss him. “That was pretty
sensational, by the way,” he added a little while later.
“Glad you liked it. I thought you deserved a treat after last night.”
“Hmm, you shouldn’t spoil me too much. I might get used to it.”
“And why would that be a problem?”
“I don’t know. Is it one?”
“Not for me,” Sheridan whispered. “I would happily spoil you every single day if you
let me.”
“Really?”
“Really.” His voice had gone tight. “Let me?”
Chester looked up into Sheridan’s eyes. “Only if I get to spoil you in return.” He
watched a slow smile spread across Sheridan’s face, lighting up his features. It didn’t quite
reach his eyes, though. Chester reached up and cupped the side of Sheridan’s face. “What’s
up?”
Sheridan sighed. “Nothing.”
“You don’t look like nothing.”
“I was wondering about last night. What you did to me.”
“What about it? Didn’t you like it?”
“I did. Just… Why did you want to tie me up?”
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Chester pushed up and kissed the frown from Sheridan’s forehead. “I didn’t tie you up
so I could do what I want, Nicolas. I did it so you couldn’t do something you shouldn’t. I
wanted to take my time and make it good for you but I needed you to be safe so I could
concentrate on finding out what you like.”
Sheridan thought about it for a moment then nodded. “Okay. But why didn’t you just
fuck me? I told you that was okay. You didn’t have to put the cream and cherries on top.”
Chester grinned. “I happen to like cream.” He turned serious. “I know the time with
Jake was hell for you. He abused you and messed with your head and whatever he did to
you made you crave pain. I want to make you crave tenderness instead. He got you believing
that sex is just fucking and pain. It’s not and I want to show you what it can be like. For every
bruise he left on you I’m going to leave a caress and for every cut a kiss. For every time he
made you cry with pain I’m going to make you moan with pleasure.”
“That…uh, might take some time.”
“Got any other plans?”
“Um, no.” Sheridan sighed. “Why do you do all that?”
“Because I can,” Chester said simply.
Sheridan looked at him for a long time until he quietly said, “Thank you. For
everything.”
“Any time, sunshine. For you, anything, any time.”
They kissed again and got up to take a shower. Somehow they managed to keep it to an
almost decent amount of snogging and groping, although Chester couldn’t resist returning
the favour, then they got dressed and went out for breakfast.
It was a beautiful day. Even the sun seemed to be laughing with them as it gathered all
its strength to chase away the clouds that had dulled the city’s splendour to shades of grey.
They had more coffee and delicious pastries at a tiny, but charming place before they went
on to Camden Market, Sheridan being as excited as a little boy on Christmas when they left
the Tube station. They walked past the stands, pointing out curiosities to each other,
laughing and joking. It was a wonderfully carefree, homey thing to do and it felt only natural
to do it holding hands. The few people who stared at them quickly remembered to mind
their own business after the looks Sheridan shot them. For probably the first time since they
had met, he seemed completely at ease. Silver-grey eyes sparkling mischievously, he pulled
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Chester into a quiet, secluded corner for a long, indecent kiss. When they surfaced to catch
their breath, Chester grinned.
“What?” Sheridan frowned.
“I was just thinking, not even you have the balls to do that out in the open, have you?”
Sheridan pulled a face. “It’s nothing to do with having the balls to do it or not. This is
private and I don’t like to share that with strangers.” He smiled. “I don’t want to share you,
you know.”
“Ooh, jealous, are you?”
“Ah, no, not exactly.” He tilted his head playfully but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“You haven’t given me reason to be yet.”
“So you’re just, what? Not taking any risks?” Chester teased, curling his fingers back
into Sheridan’s hand.
“Well, you could put it that way, I guess.”
“I see. Wanna stake your claim?”
“What if I did?” A shadow crossed Sheridan’s face and suddenly he looked serious and
uncertain. “Chester, I… Oh, crap, I didn’t want it to be like this but… Maybe it’s time we
talked about where we are going,” he said self-consciously.
Deliberately misunderstanding, Chester answered lightly, “I thought we were going to
stroll around here a bit longer, then grab some nosh and go home for dinner and a nice slow
shag.”
Sheridan’s mouth curved into a feeble smile but he remained serious. “That’s not what I
meant. I’m talking about us.”
“You don’t have to worry about that, sunshine,” Chester said but the carefree, light
mood was already dissolving like the memory of a pleasant dream at waking. “We can just
take it as it comes.”
“Oh, I think we’re doing a pretty good job with that.” Sheridan grinned and winked but
quickly turned serious again. “Besides, I’m not worrying so much as…thinking, or, well…
Oh, I don’t know.” He looked around, trying to find the right words, then sighed and took
Chester’s hand. “I know you think we should take it slowly but after last night… I was
hoping maybe you’d reconsider. I know I can be a real pain in the arse sometimes. I can’t
offer you much and I’m still…far from over all the shit that happened, you know that better
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than anyone. The thing is, I’m not sure what it means for you but I want you to know that,
for me, this is special. Serious.”
“Okay,” Chester said slowly. “I hope you mean that in a good way.”
“That depends on how you see it, I suppose. You know what I’m like. The question is if
you want to put up with all the baggage I’m carrying.”
“Do you really think it’s a wise idea?”
“I don’t know,” Sheridan admitted quietly. “But I do want to give staking that claim a
try.”
“That is a mutual thing, though, you know.”
Sheridan looked up, bewildered. “Of course it’s… Oh. Oh, I see. Fuck.” He sighed and
laughed mirthlessly. “That first time, in that awful bar… I know what it must have looked
like to you.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“Yes, I do. I… I don’t usually…” He sighed irritably. “Anything I want to say now
sounds like a horrible cliché and I’m not sure you’d believe me, anyway.”
“Why don’t you just say it anyway and I’ll tell you?”
“Fine. I will.” Sheridan lit a cigarette, nervously fumbling with the lighter. “I’m not
proud of cheating on Jake. I’m not saying I’m a saint, either. I’ve had my share of casual
encounters, but that was when I was younger and not in a relationship. That night at the
bar… I don’t know why I did it. Jake fucked around quite a lot but he made it clear that that’s
his prerogative and I’m just not like that, anyway, you know. I used to be a one-man-only
guy, but those last months with Jake…” He shook his head sadly.
“He was always so… It was just too much. He was choking me and I couldn’t stand it
any longer but I’ve never cheated on him before in spite of everything. That night all I
wanted was to get out, away from him for a bit. I didn’t even think about picking someone
up.” A dim smile softened his features.
“Or, rather, letting myself get picked up. Then you showed up, all cute and cheeky, and
just so…tempting, I thought well, what the heck? Jake does it all the time so why shouldn’t I?
Just the one time.”
“It really was the first time?”
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Sheridan shrugged. “Sure. Why should I lie to you? The sad thing is, I really thought I
could get away with it, and I probably would have, but apparently Jake saw me taking the
bike into the hotel’s parking area. I knew he was on duty and I made sure to steer clear of
any ambulances but he’d switched shifts so he went home right around the time I was there.
He just put two and two together and made me tell him the rest. He was bound to be pissed
off but I never would have expected him to freak out the way he did.”
“The…little show in your lab, you mean?”
Mortified, Sheridan nodded. “God, you can’t imagine how awful I feel about that.”
“Why did you let him do it?”
“I don’t know. I never should have let it get that far, but I…” His voice quivered and he
bit his lip, stifling a groan. “What he said, what he did… I’m still not sure if he isn’t perhaps
right. Maybe I really don’t deserve to be happy but being with you is so good and I just can’t
resist, not even after…”
“After what?” Chester pressed softly but Sheridan shook his head.
“Not here. Not yet. It’s going to make you despise me and I couldn’t stand that.”
Chester’s heart thudded uneasily in his chest as he tried to keep his voice calm and
consoling. “Gosh, Nicolas, what could you possibly have done to make you think that?
Nothing could make me despise you. You’re one of the nicest guys I met in a long time and
to be honest, I think I’m about to…” He quickly swallowed what he was about to say when
he realised that Sheridan wasn’t listening to him anymore.
Frozen to the spot, he stood staring at a point on the other side of the road, looking like
someone who had just come to understand that what he’d believed to be a nightmare was
reality. Following his eyes, Chester couldn’t see anything unusual or scary. Just a small stall
selling odds and sods and a few people looking at the items on offer.
“Sheridan?” Chester asked quietly. No reaction. “Sheridan, what’s wrong? Nicolas!”
Sheridan jerked back to reality. His voice was eerily hollow and yet unmistakably
urgent when he said, “I want to go home. Now!”
“Why, what…?”
Still, Sheridan wasn’t paying attention to him, just grabbed his arm tightly as if
prepared to simply drag him away while his eyes were fixed on a woman who stood near the
stall, an old-fashioned teapot in her hands.
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“Who is she?” Chester enquired.
“No one. Let’s go.”
Watching the woman, Chester saw how their eyes met across the road, saw recognition
flutter across her face as she held Sheridan’s gaze for the fragment of a second until he
looked away, visibly shaken. She seemed to have forgotten about everything around her as
she was staring at him. The expression on her face was both surprise and disbelief but there
was something else in it, too.
Chester didn’t have time to figure it out. Turning away, Sheridan yanked his arm,
urging him to follow. Chester had to hurry to keep up with him as he wove his way through
a group of German tourists that surrounded them. “Sheridan, what…?” he started.
“Nicolas?” Somehow the woman had managed to turn up just a little behind them.
“Nicolas Sheridan?” she called. Chester looked at her. She wasn’t as young as he’d thought at
first. Tall and naturally elegant, she could have passed for no more than forty if it weren’t for
the lines on her face.
“Fuck!” Sheridan grumbled. “Hurry up, will you?”
“What is this about?” Chester inquired.
“Let’s just go, okay?”
“I’d like to know what’s going on.”
Sheridan cast a glance at the woman, who was still following them and catching up
slowly. He flinched. “I’ll tell you but, please, let’s just go. Now.” Not waiting for an answer,
he bolted down the street. Chester had no choice but to rush after him. A taxi conveniently
stopped right in front of them and Sheridan hopped in, telling the driver to “Just go, will
you?” in a strained voice.
“What the fuck was that about?” Chester asked, annoyed. This really wasn’t how he
had planned the day.
“I’ll tell you at home,” Sheridan said curtly. His tone made it clear that there was no
room for discussion.
“I’m still very curious, you know,” Chester said when they were home. They had spent
the rest of the drive in silence, Sheridan staring out of the taxi’s window, watching the
streets, Chester watching him stare and, from the looks of it, see nothing.
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Sheridan had gone through to the living room and started pacing nervously, a
beautiful, frightened animal, wound up and ready to bolt at any moment. Chester let him
burn off some steam and watched him for a while before cornering him.
“Sit down and talk to me, will you?” he ordered softly, placing a large whisky and an
ashtray on the table. Sheridan took the former gratefully and acknowledged the latter with a
raised eyebrow.
“There isn’t much to say, really,” he said evasively, unsteady hands fumbling with his
cigarettes and lighter.
Chester didn’t reply. He just looked at Sheridan, having learnt to read him well enough
to know that he wasn’t going to get an answer easily. When Sheridan was halfway through
his whisky and all the way through the first cigarette, Chester pushed further. “How about
you start with who that woman is?”
“She’s… She’s no one special, just someone I, uh, knew once.”
“Mm-hmm. And that’s why you had to run away the moment you saw her?” Chester’s
voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“I didn’t, I just…wanted to leave. Too many people,” Sheridan said evasively.
“Just how stupid do you think I am?”
“I don’t…” Sheridan sighed. “Do you really want to know?”
“Of course I want to know.”
“Even if what I’m about to tell you is going to make you detest me?”
Chester shuddered. Sheridan sounded so hollow, so serious. “I said so earlier. Nothing
you tell me could make me detest you, Nicolas,” he said softly. “Now go on, talk.”
Sheridan took a deep breath. He was pale and didn’t meet Chester’s eyes, staring at
something invisible on the wall behind him. “That woman—Margaret… She… I killed her
son.”
The words hung between them, their echo loud in the silence that followed.
“Wanna tell me what happened?” Chester asked after a while.
Sighing, Sheridan shook his head. “Not really, no.” He looked at Chester unhappily.
“But I guess I have to, haven’t I?”
“I’m not going to force you,” Chester shrugged. “But, admittedly, I’d like to hear the
explanation that comes with your…statement.”
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“Okay.” Sheridan lit another cigarette and inhaled deeply. He squared his shoulders,
preparing to shift what must feel like a mountain off his chest.
“I was with someone before Jake. She’s his mum and he was…” he swallowed,
“…stabbed to death.”
“Oh, God, Nicolas.” Chester instinctively reached for his hand. “That’s awful. I’m sorry,
love, deeply sorry. Just… I don’t understand why you said you…killed him.”
“Because I did,” Sheridan whispered. “It was my fault. I made him go out that night.
He’d been sick and didn’t even want to go out but I didn’t stop nagging until he gave in.”
“What happened?”
“We went to some dodgy place in Soho that night. Again, my idea. That was the first
mistake. The second was walking down that bloody alley. He didn’t want to, said it would
be safer to take the long way, but I was too pissed and too horny to listen. I just wanted a
quiet place to suck him off.” He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and instantly lit the next.
“They must have followed us, or, I don’t know, maybe they’d just been waiting for
someone stupid enough to go there. It was like a bad film really, a dark, deserted alley and
two guys with big, nasty knives. They cornered us, told us to give them our money and
anything of value. We did. Handed over everything we had and it was okay, they were about
to leave us alone. We could have just gone home and it would’ve been okay. Then one of
them twigged why we were in that alley and he started calling us names and…” He broke off
and groaned.
“I was drunk. Drunk and really pissed off. I’d had a bitch of a day, I knew I’d be getting
flak for getting us mugged and the insults were just too much, so I gave them a piece of my
mind. One thing led to another and suddenly they attacked us. They didn’t really know what
they were doing, but they meant it. They got me first, stabbed me twice. I went down and
cracked my skull on the ground. I don’t know what happened after that, it’s all just a big
blur. When I woke up from a coma in hospital two weeks later, some fucking nurse told me
he’d died.” He closed his eyes.
“I wish I knew what to say,” Chester whispered. “But there are no words that could
make it better for you now, are there?”
“No.”
“Would you tell me about him?”
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Sheridan looked up in surprise. “Why do you want to know about him?”
“Because he’s important for you and whatever, or rather whoever, is important for you
is important for me.”
He refilled Sheridan’s empty whisky glass, but pointedly put the bottle away, sensing
that Sheridan needed to drown some ghosts of the past but not wanting him to drown
himself along with them.
Sheridan took a grateful sip and lit yet another cigarette. Chester decided to stop
counting.
“We met at university. We took a couple of classes together and we just, well, I guess if
you believe in love at first sight then that’s what it was.” Sheridan sighed, a sound full of
regret and sadness. “God, we were so young, so happy and we didn’t even know how lucky
we were and how damn fast it could all be taken away. We moved in together after just a
week. Our friends said we were nuts, but we worked. He wanted to become a surgeon, I’d
picked emergency medicine, which I didn’t like but I hadn’t decided what else to specialise
in yet.” He smiled melancholically.
“I couldn’t seem to make up my mind. You know, I think that’s why he came up with
the silly bet I told you about. To make me decide. Only he probably didn’t expect me to
actually stick with it. Anyway, we were madly in love. University wasn’t quite a walk in the
park but we were both doing really well and we basically didn’t have a care in the world.
We’d just taken our final exams when… It happened. We knew we’d passed, knew exactly
what we wanted to do and where we wanted to live after graduation. We’d even started
looking for a house. It had to have a garage for the bike, of course.” Answering Chester’s
wordless question, he nodded.
“It was his. That’s why it means…meant…so much to me.” He chuckled sadly. “All of
the time we were together, he wouldn’t let me ride it, but it turned out he’d wanted me to
have it, after all.”
“You loved him very much, didn’t you?” Chester asked softly.
“I did,” Sheridan nodded. “And I think a part of me still does. Sorry.” He cast Chester a
guilty glance.
“Don’t be. No one can expect you to stop having feelings for a love you lost. What?” he
asked when Sheridan let out a disbelieving snort.
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“But he’s dead, Chess. Dead and buried. Because of me. How could I possibly claim to
still love him?”
Chester felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “Those are Jake’s words, not
yours. He said that, didn’t he?”
Sheridan nodded unhappily. “He’s right, though, isn’t he? It’s all my fault and I have to
make up for what I did. I should find a way but I can’t. I just don’t know how.”
“And that’s why you think you don’t deserve to be happy,” Chester concluded,
appalled at Jake’s cruelty of using Sheridan’s pain and fuelling his guilt to make him
compliant. “That’s the reason Jake gave for hurting you, isn’t it? To punish you.” He felt like
screaming when Sheridan nodded meekly.
“My God, you really believe he was justified in what he did, don’t you?”
“Well, he does have a point, doesn’t he?” Sheridan said but he didn’t sound convinced.
It seemed the spell he was under was finally beginning to wear off.
“No, he bloody well doesn’t,” Chester snapped. “The man you loved was killed before
your eyes. Yes, you dragged him there, but you’re no more to blame for what happened
afterwards than whoever told you about that place you were so desperate to go to.”
“Ironically, it was Jake’s recommendation.”
“Jake’s? You knew him already?”
Sheridan nodded. “Sure. Oh.” He pulled a face. “Maybe I should mention that they’re
brothers.”
“Brothers? Oh, dear.” Chester groaned. Could this get any more absurd? And, yet, it
explained a lot. Jake’s motive for making Sheridan feel guilty and, ultimately, making him
suffer. “You were going out with Jake’s brother and ended up with Jake afterwards?”
“Uh-huh. We’d been friends and he was there for me and then somehow things just
developed a dynamic of their own.”
That was one way of putting it.
“Didn’t you ever think that maybe… Uh, you’d be better off not dating the brother of
someone who died while he was with you?”
“I know it might seem a bit weird but he said it didn’t matter to him. That, if anything,
it would only make the bond between us stronger. He claimed that we had a special
connection and that, after all, he had met me first.”
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“So Jake had been your friend before? A close one?”
Sheridan grimaced and looked a little mortified. “Not exactly. We…went out and, um,
shagged a few times.”
“I see,” Chester said slowly. He did, indeed. At least he was fairly sure he did. “So you
dated Jake and when his brother turned up you moved in with him after just one week?
Then, after your lover’s death, you’re back with Jake?”
Truly embarrassed now, Sheridan bit his lip. “Put like this it’s really quite a bit weird,
isn’t it?”
Chester shrugged. “Frankly, it’s the kind of stuff soap operas are made of.” He got up
and refilled their glasses in spite of his better judgement. So what if it was too early in the
day. They could both do with something to warm them from the inside. He sat down again.
“Has Jake always been this, um, possessive or just when you started over again?”
Sheridan frowned, trying to remember. “Well, no, not really. I mean, he was the one
who initiated things. I’m not even sure I would’ve gone out with him in the first place if he
hadn’t been so persistent, but, no, he didn’t mind me hanging out with other people. At least,
not quite so much. It wasn’t until the second time we were going out that he started keeping
me away from my friends.”
“Hmm. He lost you once. To his own brother. That must have hurt a lot. He probably
wanted to make sure you wouldn’t run off with someone else again.”
Sheridan nodded tiredly. “It was his idea to move to Yorkshire. I never really wanted
to, but I just didn’t find it in me to fight him over it at the time, so I let him get on with it until
it was too late.”
“And whose idea was it to get married?”
“That was mine but…” Sheridan blinked, confused. “How do you know we got
married?”
“When I searched for your address I came across a directory entry in London. The
number wasn’t available anymore but it linked your name quite unmistakably with a certain
J. Simmons.”
“Jay,” Sheridan repeated in a hollow gasp and closed his eyes for a moment.
“It’s not a coincidence, is it?”
“No. No, it’s not.”
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Chester sighed. “I suppose that will make it a bit harder for you to put an end to it,
won’t it?”
“Put an end to what?”
“The relationship. You’ll have to file for divorce, right? You probably won’t have to
wait for a year, given your history, but you’ll still have to make it official.”
Sheridan stared at him blankly. “Huh? Why should I file for divorce?”
“To get away from Jake for good, obviously.”
“But I’m not married to Jake.”
“Then what about that directory entry?” Chester reminded him.
“What exactly did it read?”
“N. Sheridan and J. Simmons Sheridan.”
“Right. Jay. Not Jake.”
“Doesn’t J stand for Jake?”
Sheridan frowned, slowly comprehending. He smirked. “Oh, I see. You only got the
initials, didn’t you? J is for Jay—J-A-Y. Short for Jason. Jake’s full name is Jacob.”
“Oops. Bugger,” Chester sighed sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I think I got that a bit wrong,
didn’t I?”
Sheridan smiled. “It’s okay.” His smile vanished. “Gosh, did you really believe I was
married to him all that time?”
“Well, I wasn’t sure. I meant to ask you but somehow the right moment just never
cropped up and I kind of forgot about it for a while. I do feel a bit silly right now.”
“It’s okay.”
“So you were married? To Jay, I mean?” Chester asked cautiously.
“Well, not married married, obviously,” Sheridan explained. “Civil partnership would
be the correct term but that sounds so…clinical.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s annoying really,” Chester said heatedly. “If an official same-sex
relationship is possible and the concept is the same, then why don’t you get to use the same
term? Why still make it a difference in words?”
Sheridan stared at him for a moment. “That’s exactly what Jay said. He hated it. He said
he’d only get along with it if I promised never to call it that unless strictly necessary for
official purposes.” He tilted his head to the side, assessing Chester with a tender expression
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on his face. “Jay was a lot like you, you know.” Taking in Chester’s raised eyebrows he
grinned.
“Maybe not in looks, but that’s never been important for me, anyway. It’s the way you
are. Just like for you, no was never an option for him. He’d always find a way and he always
saw the funny side of everything. And, just like you, he could make me feel cherished when I
was with him. I never felt that way with Jake.” Suddenly his expression darkened and he
looked at his watch. “It’s late. I think I should go now.”
“What?” Chester asked, taken by surprise. He checked his own watch. “It’s two in the
afternoon and we haven’t even eaten yet. Hmm, we never got to buy food but I’m sure I still
have something decent. Want me to go have a look?”
Looking distressed and shifty, Sheridan shook his head.
“How about I take you out for lunch?” Chester offered with a sinking feeling as he took
in the expression on Sheridan’s face. Another shake of his head, just as Chester expected.
“Thank you, Chess,” Sheridan said in a low voice and got up. “Maybe tomorrow,
okay?”
Chester followed him to the door, still too much taken by surprise to know how to
handle the situation. “Nicolas, sunshine, you don’t have to leave.”
“I know I don’t have to. But I want to,” Sheridan said curtly, hand on the doorknob.
“Please stay,” Chester pleaded. “You’re upset and…”
“I’m okay,” Sheridan cut across him brusquely. He must have seen the hurt in Chester’s
eyes for his own expression softened.
“Thank you. For listening and for…just about everything. For trying to take care of
me.” Leaning in, he reached for Chester’s hand and looked at him earnestly. “I love you,
Chess.”
“Don’t,” Chester protested feebly. Why? Why of any given moment in time did
Sheridan have to choose this one to tell him the three words he wanted to hear the most?
“Please don’t say it. Not if it’s just to get me off your back.”
“It’s not,” Sheridan answered softly. “I mean it. I started falling for you the moment I
first saw you and there’s nothing I want more than to be with you, but, right now, I need to
be alone for a bit. I’ll call you tomorrow. I promise. Okay?”
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It wasn’t, but Chester knew there was nothing he could do to keep Sheridan from
leaving, so he nodded and obediently tilted his head up for a quick goodbye kiss.
“I love you, too,” Chester whispered into the emptiness of his house.
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Chapter Eleven
The door was jerked open just as Chester contemplated leaning on the doorbell.
“What the sodding f—” Sheridan interrupted himself as he recognised Chester.
“Hello, darling,” Chester greeted cheerfully, ignoring the fact that Sheridan didn’t look
particularly pleased to see him.
“Chess? What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t really think I’d leave you alone on a day like this, did you?” Not waiting
for an invitation, Chester waltzed right past Sheridan and went into the kitchen where he
dumped his bags on the table.
“Okay. I brought food. No need to ask, it is beef vindaloo, your favourite. Straight from
the Taj Mahal, the best Indian restaurant this side of the Thames. And yes, it is extra hot. I’ve
no idea what your stomach lining consists of and I don’t think I want to know, but I hope
you’ll enjoy it. Oh, I didn’t bother with the wine, seeing as you’re the expert on that.”
Turning around, he trapped Sheridan’s evasive glance with his own. “Now tell me, do I have
to ask you to roll up your sleeves?”
Sheridan looked predictably embarrassed. He shook his head. “I’m okay.”
“Mm-hmm. Sure. That’s why you hang around in your flat on a Saturday night with the
shutters closed and the lights off.”
“No, really.” Catching Chester’s glance, Sheridan sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’m okay.
See?” He jerked up his right sleeve, revealing his scarred, but otherwise unharmed, arm. “I
told you I just needed to be alone for a bit.”
Catching and ignoring the emphasis, Chester smiled up at him and shrugged. “Well,
you’ve had time to indulge that need all afternoon. Now I’m here, sunshine, and you’ll just
have to put up with me. Dishes?”
With a resigned sigh Sheridan indicated one of the cupboards.
“Good. Go get some wine.”
Sheridan reluctantly participated in the conversation Chester struggled to keep going.
He clearly lacked enthusiasm but seemed to cheer up throughout their meal.
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“So what now?” Chester asked when they had cleared the table. “Watch a film?” he
suggested.
“Nn-nn.” Grinning, Sheridan stubbed out his cigarette and slid his arms around
Chester. “I think it’s time you put your money where your mouth is. Or rather…” He
lowered his head and took Chester’s mouth in a kiss that tasted deliciously of cigarettes,
spicy food and red wine.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chester asked, breathless.
“Do you think I didn’t notice you flirting your pretty eyes out, you fucking tease?”
Sheridan growled and claimed another kiss. “And, by the way, you really shouldn’t eat with
your fingers in public or you’ll get arrested for lewd behaviour one day. You got me hard
throughout the entire fucking dinner.”
Chester grinned and, seeing as his hands happened to be placed conveniently, firmly
grabbed Sheridan’s buttocks. He pushed their groins together, drawing a gasp from Sheridan
who quite obviously hadn’t lied. The hard ridge of his erection pushed into Chester’s belly
and his hips rolled as he accepted the wordless invitation.
“Bedroom?” Chester gasped into Sheridan’s neck.
“Nn-Nn.” Sheridan’s hands were everywhere at once, stroking, feeling, burning up his
skin. “I want you right here.”
“Uh, here?” Chester grunted unconvinced. There was only one place apart from the
floor…
“On the table,” Sheridan half dragged and half pushed him to it, somehow managing to
undo both their flies on the way. No, it wasn’t gentle. Chester’s cock was trapped
uncomfortably against the hard wood of the table and Sheridan barely gave him the time to
get ready, but it wasn’t painful. Much. There was something undeniably erotic about
Sheridan’s roughness, all his lean-muscled, male strength unleashed for once.
His thrusts were hard enough to make Chester expect to hear his teeth rattle and yet,
deep inside, he knew that a part of Sheridan was still looking out for him, ready to stop at the
first sign that it became too much for him to handle. They finished almost simultaneously,
Chester with a soft moan, Sheridan with a harsh cry. Chester moaned again seconds later
when Sheridan pulled out, still half hard.
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“That was…intense,” he sighed as he watched Sheridan take care of the condom. He
hadn’t noticed him putting one on and, admittedly, he hadn’t even thought about it. No
matter whose sake he had used it for, at least Sheridan was playing it safe. Sheridan turned
his head, looking sheepish. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Honest concern darkened his voice.
“No. Unghh.” Chester stood straight. “No. Just a bit sore I think. Feel better now?”
Sheridan nodded and ran his hand through his hair in an embarrassed gesture. “Yeah.
At least I think so. I don’t know what got into me just now.”
“Well, at least I know what got into me.” Chester grinned, stretching up for a kiss.
“Don’t frown, sunshine. Let’s go watch a film, then I’ll take you to bed and, maybe, if you
like, I can get something a bit less…passionate into you.”
Sheridan chuckled softly. “You really are gorgeous, do you know that?” He kissed the
tip of Chester’s nose affectionately then picked up their glasses and led the way to the living
room. Though small, it was arranged and decorated tastefully, a room to feel comfortable in
and a very big difference to the unwelcoming Yorkshire house.
They needed some time to arrange themselves on the rather small sofa but, once they
had, the evening turned unexpectedly cosy. There was an old mutual favourite on the TV
and, by the time they went to bed, whatever had possessed Sheridan had vanished. They
made love once more in the dark, slowly, wrapped up tightly into each other. As usual
Sheridan got up again for a quick post-coital cigarette but returned soon afterwards, bringing
with him the smell of fresh night air. Spooning up behind Chester, he offered his arm for a
pillow, just the way Chester liked it. There was nothing left to say and Chester snuggled
deeper into Sheridan’s embrace, head tucked in under his chin. He liked the sandpaper
scrape of stubble on his forehead. It meant that he’d probably wake up with a rash, but lying
close like this was well worth it. He fell asleep listening to Sheridan’s deep breath and the
regular, strong thudding of his heart.
* * * *
As soon as he woke up, Chester knew something was wrong. It took him a moment to
remember where he was and another to know what was missing. Sheridan. He was alone in
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the big, comfortable bed and quite possibly in the entire flat. He looked for an alarm clock on
the nightstand but found none, then remembered his watch. Twenty past three in the
morning.
Maybe Sheridan couldn’t sleep and had just popped out for another cigarette, Chester
tried to tell himself, but he didn’t succeed in believing it. He waited for a minute or two,
listening attentively to the silence. It was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that meant
something bad was happening somewhere.
Chester crawled out of bed, searching the dark room for something to wear. His fingers
brushed a piece of clothing. A shirt. Most of his own clothes had been discarded in the living
room so it would be one of Sheridan’s, both too long and a bit tight-fitting, but it would have
to do. Better than his jeans anyway, which would be way too tight. Slipping into it, he once
again promised himself to lose a few pounds so he didn’t look like a meatball next to
Sheridan’s long-limbed litheness. He managed to find the door, miraculously without
stubbing his toes on anything, and went into the tiny hall. It was lit by the sparse light of the
city’s never-darkening night sky that fell through a window.
Not much, but it allowed him to see enough to navigate the unfamiliar flat. He decided
to check the balcony first, not surprised when he found the door locked. So not just a quick
ciggie in the first light of morning. Maybe he should just make some coffee and wait for
Sheridan to turn up. On the way to the kitchen he noticed that the hall wasn’t just lit from
outside. The bathroom light was on, casting its faint white shine through the gaps where the
door was left ajar. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought to check the bathroom first?
“Sheridan? Are you in there? Everything okay?” When there was no answer he lightly
tapped on the door. It opened with a faint squeak of its hinges. “Sheridan?” he asked again
but there was still no answer. Pushing the images from another bathroom scenario several
weeks earlier to the back of his mind, he opened the door.
“Fuck, Sheridan, what’ve you done this time?” he groaned when his eyes had adjusted
to the light. Sitting on the side of the bathtub, dressed in nothing but his boxer briefs,
Sheridan was staring at his right arm.
Careful not to startle him, Chester took a step closer. “Nicolas,” he said softly but
Sheridan didn’t seem to hear him. Chester helplessly watched the scalpel’s blade slice into
Sheridan’s flesh. It was so sharp the cut sealed itself almost the instant the soft, pale skin had
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been disturbed. The fine line slowly turned red, reluctant as if it wasn’t sure it should appear
at all. Chester watched, frozen to the point by sheer horror.
“Nic, please stop it,” he begged, appalled. “You have to stop this.” Horrible though the
sight of the red line woven into the web of silver-white scars on Sheridan’s arm was, the
expression in his eyes was worse. Or, rather, the complete absence of any expression. His
silver eyes were dead, two emotionless, hollow circles of cold steel as he stared at the thin
line in morbid fascination. The blade came down again and a fresh stripe appeared—a
perfect parallel to the other five.
Chester suppressed a shudder. “Nicolas, look at me,” he ordered, his voice squeaky in
his own ears. Squeaky and undeniably scared. “You’ve got to stop. Give me the knife.”
Sheridan didn’t obey, just as Chester knew he wouldn’t, and there wasn’t much he
could do to make him. It was either taking the blade from him and risking a fight or
watching him continue on his path of self-destruction. The latter wasn’t an option but
Chester doubted if he could take on Sheridan. The man was strong, far more so than his
slender frame led to believe. Chester had seen him hoist the dead weight of corpses that were
much heavier than he was without so much as a groan and the earlier episode on the kitchen
table had given him a taste of what Sheridan was capable of physically.
“Nic, please,” he begged, getting desperate. “Please, stop this. Just stop,” he repeated,
holding out his hand. “Please.” He didn’t really think about it, didn’t know why he thought
it could work but he sensed that Sheridan’s reasons for hurting himself wouldn’t make him
turn on somebody else. Slowly, carefully, Chester reached out further and gently covered
Sheridan’s mutilated wrist with his own hand. The shiny tip of the scalpel inched its way
down on Chester’s skin and, for a horrifying moment, he thought Sheridan wasn’t going to
stop. He almost felt the cold steel cut into his flesh then the blade quivered and came to a
halt.
Raising his eyes, Chester looked into Sheridan’s face. The emotionless void had been
replaced by an expression of surprise and bewilderment. Sheridan looked confused and
utterly lost. Like a child who had gone astray in a shopping centre, so deeply wrapped up in
his doings that he didn’t realise how far he had gone until it was too late. A child gone
astray, confused, lost and holding a dangerous tool in his hand.
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“Nicolas, it’s me, Chester. Look at me, sunshine. Please. You don’t have to do this. Give
me the knife, please,” Chester begged again. Sheridan blinked as if awakening from a dream
and shook his head.
“It’s a scalpel,” he clarified in a scratchy voice. He got up as if nothing had happened
and placed the scalpel into a slim plastic box.
Chester needed several deep breaths before he trusted his voice enough to speak. “Let
me have a look at your wrist.”
“Why?” Sheridan sounded genuinely surprised.
“Because those wounds need taking care of,” Chester said sternly.
“Oh.” Looking at his arm, Sheridan inspected the cuts briefly and shrugged. “No, they
don’t. They’ll just heal.”
“They’ll leave scars,” Chester pointed out.
“They won’t.”
“Just like the ones before, huh?” Chester reminded him with bitter sarcasm.
“Those were deeper.”
Chester stared at him. “How long have you been doing this?”
Sheridan didn’t meet his eyes. “A while,” he said quietly.
If I don’t give him what he needs he’ll only do it himself. Sliced his wrists and almost killed
himself.
“So at least Jake didn’t lie about that, did he? God, Sheridan, this has got to stop,”
Chester whispered, feeling dreadful. Letting out a sharp sigh, he pulled himself together then
firmly steered Sheridan into the living room where he made him sit on the sofa.
“Stay here. I’ll make us coffee and we’ll talk.”
When he returned several minutes later with two mugs of steaming coffee, Sheridan
looked up at him defiantly. “I don’t want to talk,” he protested.
“Tough. You’re gonna have to,” Chester said firmly. “And, if you don’t, then you’ll still
have to listen.” He handed Sheridan his mug, looking at him sternly. “Why do you do this to
yourself?”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Sheridan snapped.
“And I don’t give a toss about what you want,” Chester answered calmly. “Not when it
comes to cutting yourself. So let’s try again, shall we? Why?” He was fairly certain he knew
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the answers but Sheridan had to find them for himself, even if it meant that Chester would
have to force each single one out of him.
For a long moment it seemed as if Sheridan wasn’t going to answer. When he did, his
voice was as void of emotion as his eyes had been before. “Because it helps me focus.”
“Focus on what?”
Sheridan shook his head. “It’s complicated.”
“Try me. Tell me why you think hurting yourself helps you focus.”
“I… It just… Oh, I don’t know.”
“Not good enough, sunshine. What do you think about when you do it?”
“I don’t think. I just…feel.”
“Good,” Chester praised softly. “We’re getting there. What do you feel? Pain?”
Closing his eyes, Sheridan nodded. “Yes, but…in a good way.”
“Why is it good?”
“Because it all becomes too much sometimes and then my head’s a mess and… Pain is
so pure. Clear. Brighter than all the other stuff.”
“Why like this, Sheridan? Why don’t you try to find something else that helps you
focus? Something that doesn’t hurt you?”
Sheridan shook his head again, sadly. “I can’t. It doesn’t work. Not when I get like this.”
“Nicolas, there’s always another option,” Chester said softly, but firmly. “You don’t
have to do this. You can stop it if you want to.”
“But maybe I don’t,” Sheridan answered stubbornly. “Maybe I just really need it.”
“Yes, but why?” Chester insisted.
“Because I… Because… I just…” Sheridan looked away, too mortified to continue.
“Because you think you deserve it?” Chester offered.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because… I’m still alive.”
Chester frowned, not understanding. “But that’s good, Sheridan. Being alive is good.”
“Maybe. But I shouldn’t be.”
“What? What do you mean you shouldn’t be?”
“Alive. I shouldn’t be.”
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“What makes you say that?”
“It’s the truth.” This time, Sheridan met his eyes and for one horrifying second Chester
found himself staring into the abyss that was Sheridan’s soul.
“The night Jay died,” Sheridan explained hollowly. “We both died that night. I lost so
much blood and I was clinically dead for several minutes. Sometimes I think I should have
stayed that way but they brought me back. Sometimes I really wish they hadn’t.”
“I’m glad they did, though.” Chester took his hand, stroking each long, fine-boned
finger as he added, “And so should you be.”
“No.” Blinking tears from his eyes as his emotions found the way to the surface at last,
Sheridan said, “I wish I knew what happened that night. If they could save one of us, why
not him?”
“Don’t you think that maybe he’d feel the same if he was in your place?” Chester
suggested gently.
“I don’t know. Maybe. But it’s just not fair. It was my fault we were there and I should
have been in his place. I would have happily taken it. He shouldn’t have died, Chester. He
should still be here, live his life.”
“I know, love, I know. But you’re not to blame for what happened and hurting yourself
doesn’t bring him back, sunshine. It only destroys you and that’s sad, because you’re the one
who remembers him best. You should cherish his memory, not torture yourself over it.”
Puzzled, Sheridan looked at him and rubbed his eyes. He took a breath, trying to say
something but stopped. There was a lot going on behind his tormented grey eyes. He tried
again. “Aren’t you mad at me?”
“What for?”
“Clinging on to the past like that when I should just forget him,” Sheridan said in a low
voice, full of shame.
Chester leaned in close, still holding his hand and looked into his eyes. “You shouldn’t
forget him, Nicolas. Ideally, life would be full of sweet, perfect moments. It’s not. There are
good moments and not so good ones and then there are the really bad ones. But just like
every rose has its thorns that’s all a part of this big scary thing called life. You shouldn’t
forget him. Your memories are a part of who you are and we all live in the memories of those
who have loved us. If you really want to do something to make up for Jay’s death, then
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remember all the good things about him, all the good times the two of you had. Keep him in
your heart. If you do that, a part of him will always be alive.”
Sheridan leaned on him, a heavy but sweet weight against his chest. The silent tears that
fell from his eyes tore at Chester’s heart but he understood that they were good. Cleansing.
They washed away the lies Sheridan had been told, helped him cope and, for maybe the first
time, grieve. The pent-up pain of the past two years, the shame and guilt he had held back
for too long and turned against himself were released at last. Chester knew that Sheridan had
to go through this. There was nothing he could do except be there and hold him, gently
caressing him until the tears finally stopped and Sheridan was heavy with exhaustion in his
arms.
“Let’s get you back into bed, okay?” Chester suggested softly. He dragged an utterly
exhausted Sheridan up and together they stumbled through the faint light the rising morning
sun cast through the gaps in the shutters. Sheridan fell asleep almost the second his head hit
the pillow, wrapped up tightly in Chester’s arms. Chester watched him sleep, listening to his
soft breathing until he, too, fell asleep at last.
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Chapter Twelve
“Doctor Sheridan? There’s someone here to see you.”
“Can’t it wait? I was just about to start working with Mrs O’Neill.” Sheridan sounded
impatient and mildly irritated, his usual working mode.
“I don’t know, uh, I can ask him if it’s urgent,” the young man said timidly.
Chester suppressed a grin. It seemed Sheridan was quickly and successfully
conditioning the staff. Rescuing the poor boy, Chester took a step forward and said, “It won’t
take long, sunshine. I’m sure the lovely Mrs O’Neill won’t mind waiting just a little bit
longer.”
Sheridan turned his head, visibly surprised but smiling.
“Chess? What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I just wanted to drop something by,” Chester said lightly.
“What is it?”
“Um, I haven’t got it on me right now but you might want to check your inbox, it
should have arrived half an hour or so ago.”
“Sweetheart, you know I’m working.” Sheridan sighed and turned to the young man
who’d let Chester in. “Frank, would you please get everything ready for the next autopsy? I
won’t be long. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”
“Of course, Dr Sheridan,” came the prompt reply.
Gesturing for Chester to follow, Sheridan led the way to a small area behind the
morgue that contained several offices.
“He’s quite dedicated,” Chester commented idly.
“Who is?”
“The little redhead.”
Sheridan gave a dismissive shrug. “I guess he’s all right. He’s a trainee, still has a lot to
learn.”
Chester chuckled. “I bet if you ask him nicely he’ll roll over and bark for you.”
Sheridan turned to him and, understanding, smiled crookedly. “You reckon?”
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“Oh, come on,” Chester laughed. “The way he looks at you? And Doctor Sheridan. He’s
totally smitten.”
“Hmm,” Sheridan hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe I should ask him out on a date. What
do you think?”
“I think you better make sure to check his personnel file first. Is he even legal?” Chester
shot back, unruffled.
Closing the door behind them, Sheridan took his hand and looked at him earnestly.
“You know you’re the only one for me, don’t you?”
“I do,” Chester smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “Now go see what Santa brought.” He
stifled a cough.
Sheridan cast him a scolding glance. “Didn’t I tell you to take something for that cold
and stay in bed?”
“Yes, you did, but if I’d done that then I couldn’t be here now and I really needed to see
you.”
“You do realise that you’re acting against doctor’s orders, don’t you?” Sheridan said
sternly.
“I’ll go back home when we’re done here, okay? Then you can be my very own doctor
when you come home tonight.” Chester smiled suggestively. “I think I’ll probably need a
very thorough examination.”
“You need a very thorough spanking, that’s what you need,” Sheridan grumbled and
went to his desk where he took a small pile of assorted folders and documents from his in-
tray. “Care to tell me what I’m looking for?” he asked, scanning the pile with a frown.
“An autopsy report.”
Looking at Chester, Sheridan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like I only get one of those a day.”
“Sorry, my mistake. It should have a note on it, urgent.”
“Uh-huh. That would be half of this,” Sheridan said dryly. “A name might be helpful.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Sheridan!” Chester grumbled impatiently. “Why don’t you try
Jason Simmons Sheridan?”
Sheridan nearly dropped the entire pile. “There’s a report on Jay’s death?” He quickly
flicked through the documents, bewildered. “I didn’t even know there was an investigation.”
“Didn’t you? Wouldn’t there normally be one after a violent death?”
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A frown appeared on Sheridan’s forehead. “Well, yes, but… Jake said there hadn’t been
one. He took care of all the official stuff so I didn’t have to deal with it after… When I was
still in hospital.”
“I think you should read it. Maybe you’ll find some answers in there.”
“Oh, I think…” Sheridan held up a slim, dark blue folder, quickly checking the name on
the cover page. He swallowed and his expression darkened. “Yes, this is it.” He sighed.
“Who sent it to me, anyway?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Sheridan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Who?”
Chester sighed. “I took the Templar Knightmare out for lunch on Tuesday. After
copious amounts of red wine and sweet-talking, she kindly agreed to request to see it under
whatever pretence she came up with and then had it sent to you. She can be quite nice
actually.”
“Oh, dear. Molly. On Tuesday? I thought you’d gone on an author’s reading or signing
or whatever.”
“Reading,” Chester clarified. “And I did, actually. It wasn’t too far from Halifax, well,
only about two hours or so, so I thought I’d pay her a quick visit and ask her to do us a
favour for old times’ sake.” He grinned when Sheridan pulled a face.
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth,” Chester shrugged. “Parts of it, anyway. She asked me to tell you she was
sorry, by the way. She said she would have made it easier on you if she’d known what
you’ve been through.”
“Great,” Sheridan groaned. “Did you read it?”
“She scanned it in for me and I had a look at it, but it’s mostly medical stuff I don’t have
a clue about. I’m sure you can make more sense of it. Maybe you can fill me in when you’re
through.”
“I will.”
“Want me to make us some coffee?” Chester offered, eyeing the machine on a small
table in the corner.
“Yes, please. Thank you, sweetheart.” Sheridan opened the file and began to read. He
didn’t even notice when Chester placed a steaming mug next to him. That must be a first,
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Chester mused. Normally Sheridan wouldn’t leave a cup of coffee untouched for longer than
it took him to grab it, especially now that he had cut down on his nicotine consumption
drastically and was desperate for anything that helped him keep his mind off cigarettes.
Sheridan’s frown deepened as he turned to the last page. Chester’s curiosity got the
better of him. “What?”
“Nothing, just… This doesn’t really make sense, you know.”
“Why not?”
“Well, according to this report, Jay’s injuries weren’t fatal. He basically died owing to
complications with the medical treatment he received in the ambulance. The drug he was
given interacted with the alcohol and the benzodiazepine in his blood.” He looked up. “Jay
didn’t have a drink that night and, as far as I remember, he hadn’t had one in well over a
week. He’d had the flu and had taken antibiotics. He would never have mixed them with
booze.”
“Well, is there any other explanation for it?”
“No. No, unless… But that… That can’t be it. No.”
“What?”
Sheridan shook his head. “Let me just make a phone call to verify something.”
He had a short and apparently little enlightening conversation. When he put the phone
down, he looked even more bewildered than before.
“Care to share?” Chester asked. “And please remember to speak laymanese with me
this time because the only words I understood from that conversation were the articles.”
Sheridan’s mouth curved into a reluctant smile. “There is a drug in emergency
medicine which could in theory be used in a case like his. It’s controversial, but ambulances
are still stocked with it. It isn’t used, though, unless the paramedics can be absolutely sure
that it can be safely applied and, with Jay, they must have known it wasn’t. Jake was with
them, he knew it wasn’t safe.”
“Jake was there?” Chester asked sharply. Yet another peculiar coincidence in an already
twisted story. One that made his spider sense shake its head at the improbability.
“Yes.” Sheridan nodded. “He was on the second ambulance. The team that took care of
Jay.”
“He treated his own brother? Is that, uh, even acceptable?”
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Sheridan shrugged and finally remembered his coffee. “Not if it can be helped. But, in
emergency medicine, rules are bent sometimes. When it’s a matter of seconds whether
someone lives or dies, excuses are being made a bit more readily than normally.”
“Shouldn’t they have, uh, swapped?”
“In theory, yes. But apparently my injuries were more severe so it makes sense that the
first team to arrive took care of me. From what Jake told me they were just about to leave by
the time his unit arrived.”
“I see. That drug you mentioned. What’s so special about it?”
“Pethidine. It’s an opioid.” Interpreting what felt like a very blank expression on
Chester’s face correctly, he explained, “Related to opium. A painkiller. Its main advantage in
emergency treatment is that the effect kicks in faster than that of most other drugs. There are
a few other specific indications for when it’s used, but those are rare. Unfortunately, there are
several contraindications, which is why it’s hardly used anymore. It can have some serious
side effects if it interacts with certain other substances. Alcohol is one of them. The other is a
certain type of benzodiazepine, which is used for treating insomnia.” He had gone pale. “Jay
was on it. He suffered from insomnia and anxiety occasionally.”
Chester frowned. Something was seriously off about this incident. “So, just to make
sure I understand this correctly, Jay didn’t die of his injuries but because of complications
with his medical treatment?”
Sheridan gave a tight nod. “According to this report, yes.” He swallowed and cleared
his throat. His voice was perfectly controlled when he explained, textbook-style, “The cause
of death was hypotension, which then led to multiple organ failure, likely to be caused by an
interaction of the medication he was given with another substance already in his system.” He
pulled a face.
“And the explanation for that is either that he was drunk, which you say he wasn’t, or
that he was given a drug which isn’t normally used because it’s too risky?”
“Yes.”
“And Jake was on board the ambulance and knew they couldn’t use that drug?”
“He’d picked up the prescription for Jay, so he must’ve known Jay was taking his meds
again.” Sheridan had gone even paler than before.
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“One more question,” Chester said slowly. “That drug he was given—would it be
found in an autopsy?”
“Not as such.” Sheridan’s voice was shaky. “At least, not unless you look for it
specifically. And, even if you do, it’s quite often confused with another, more commonly
applied opioid. After more than two hours it’s almost impossible to tell which one’s been
used.”
“Okay,” Chester said, interrupted by another cough. “Can you come up with any
logical explanation for that?”
“Not really, no. I’m sure there is one, though. Maybe… Oh, I don’t know, I’ll just have
to think about it.” He took a breath and let it out in a long sigh. “Anyway, for you this is the
end of meddling with medical reports unless they’re your own, mister. You go home now
and straight to bed.” He picked up a pen and a piece of paper and scribbled something on it.
“If you happen to come by a pharmacy, ask for this. It should keep you from getting much
worse.”
Chester rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you, I’m okay. It’s just a bit of a sore throat.”
“Uh-huh. Along with a cough and a raised temperature.”
“Fine. I’ll take something. Are we still on for tonight?”
Sheridan sighed. “That god-awful musical? You really wanna drag me there?”
“Sure.” Chester nodded enthusiastically. “You’ll like it. Lots of sparsely dressed hunky
guys. And the music is good.”
Rolling his eyes, Sheridan said, “I’ve seen the film, Chess. The music isn’t bad, but the
guys are wearing stockings and suspenders—I’m not sure I need that. Besides, you really
ought to stay in bed.”
“It’s just a few hours. You can tuck me in afterwards if you want and I’ll express my
gratitude.”
The glitter in Sheridan’s eyes gave him away. Chester knew he had won even before
Sheridan sighed and nodded.
“Okay, we’ll go. But only if you’re better by the time I get home, so go to bed now,
sweetheart. I really don’t want you to get ill.”
“But I…”
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“Go. To. Bed,” Sheridan ordered. “And don’t bother with dinner, I’ll get us something
on the way home, okay? Now off you go.”
Chester knew Sheridan was serious this time and obediently left him in his office after a
quick kiss goodbye. It took him a while to get home, though.
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Chapter Thirteen
“Mr Laurie Stark?” Chester asked in his best you’re-just-the-right-one voice.
“Yes?” The man frowned at him suspiciously.
“My name is Chester Banning. I’m writing a book and I wonder if maybe you were
willing to help me out on a few questions that have popped up.”
“Me?” Surprise crept across the man’s face. “I really don’t know how I can help you
with a book.”
“Perhaps I could just explain my, uh, project a bit further. Can I come in?”
“Um, yes. I suppose.” He opened the door and Chester entered, beaming a smile at the
man. Amazing how people opened doors and started talking when they thought they might
be material for a book.
“So, what leads you to me?” Stark asked, still a bit sceptical when they had settled on
his small wooden kitchen table.
“Mr Stark—”
“Laurie.”
“Laurie,” Chester repeated with a smile. He decided to cut straight to the chase.
“A little over two years ago you worked with a Jake Simmons, didn’t you?”
“Jake?” Laurie nodded. “Yes, sure. Did he send you?”
“Um, not as such but he gave me the, uh, inspiration for the project I’m working on.”
Chester smirked. All fictional, every author’s first and last line.
“Really?” Laurie grinned. “My, old Jacky’s dating a writer now? Ah, well, he’s always
had a thing about guys with brains, I suppose. Last I heard was that he moved to Yorkshire
with that pretty boy, Doctor what’s-his-name?”
“Yeah, well that’s over,” Chester said vaguely. “By the way, you don’t mind me
recording our conversation, do you? I just want to make sure to get all the, um, medical
details right.”
“Yeah, go on,” Laurie nodded, much to Chester’s relief. It didn’t hurt to have evidence,
did it?
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“There are a few questions I’d like to ask you about the death of Jay—Jake’s brother. I
understand you were on shift with Jake when it, um, happened?”
“Yep, that’s right.”
“Could you just briefly tell me what happened that night?”
“That’s all in the report,” Laurie said.
“This isn’t an official investigation,” Chester reminded him softly.
“Oh, right, of course. Well, we were ordered to a place somewhere in Soho. We went
with two units, but ours got stuck because of some stupid drunks fighting over a girl or
whatever. Anyway, the others were well ahead of us. By the time we arrived they had
already taken care of Jay and that other guy—hang on,” he said as realisation dawned. “That
other guy… He was the pretty doctor, wasn’t he?”
“Doctor Sheridan, yes,” Chester confirmed.
Laurie grinned. “Yeah, that’s the one. Jake’s wet dream for months. Anyway, they’d
messed him up quite badly. Got stabbed twice, lost a shitload of blood. He wasunconscious
when Jake and I arrived. We were all sure he wouldn’t make it, to be honest. Chris and
Donnie, the other paramedics, expected to lose him before they could even get him to
surgery so they left as soon as we were there to take over the second victim. We didn’t have a
clue that it was Jay until we checked him over.” He frowned. “I had a bad feeling about it,
but there wasn’t much we could do. The others had left and it would have been a waste of
capacities to call in yet another unit, especially since Jay’s injuries weren’t that bad. If I’d
known we’d lose him because of a bloody heart failure, I would’ve insisted on another team
taking over. Poor Jake. He must’ve been devastated. He tried not to show it, but, fuck, I
mean, Jay was his little brother…” He sighed and rubbed his forehead.
“Was there anything unusual about the medication he got?”
Laurie seemed a little uncomfortable at the question. “Well, no, not really. That is… I
gave him pethidine instead of the usual morphine for pain treatment.”
Chester held up his hand. “Easy with the names. You’re dealing with someone who can
just about pronounce aspirin. Why did you give him something other than the usual drug?”
“Because the onset of pethidine is faster and we didn’t want to let the poor bastard
suffer any longer.”
“If it works faster then why isn’t it normally used?”
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“Because it’s less efficient and it can have severe side-effects if it interacts with alcohol.”
“And since you never know what a patient has taken you don’t want to risk using it,
right?” Chester finished for him.
“Right. But Jake said we could use it. Apparently Jay had been sick and taken
antibiotics, so there wouldn’t have been any alcohol in his system.”
“What about, uh, benzodizzy… Benzodazi…um, sleeping pills? Someone told me that
an interaction of the two can be worse than with alcohol, potentially toxic even,” Chester
said.
Laurie looked at him, smirking. “I suppose you’re talking about benzodiazepines. You
did your homework, it seems. Yes, that’s true. It’s one of the main reasons pethidine isn’t
normally used anymore. But we could use it for Jay because Jake knew he wasn’t taking
any.”
“So it would have been absolutely okay for you to apply that drug?” Chester asked
carefully.
Laurie shrugged. “Sure.”
“Then why does your report state that he was given morphine?”
“What?” He bolted upright. “That’s bollocks. He got pethidine.”
“Are you sure? Aren’t you perhaps confusing him with another patient?”
Laurie looked at him furiously. “Of course I’m sure. Jay received pethidine. He was my
partner’s brother. Don’t you think I remember him better than any of the others?”
“Well, yes. That’s what I was counting on when I wanted to talk to you. Was it your
decision to use the pethidine or Jake’s?”
“Either.”Laurie frowned. “Well, to be precise I was going to give him the usual
morphine injection but Jake suggested using pethidine, because he knew it was okay.”
“Maybe there was a mix-up with the substances?”
“There was no mix-up!” Laurie snapped irritably. “I was the one who gave him the
injection. I recall very well what I gave him for exactly the reason that we rarely ever use the
stuff.”
“No offence, Laurie,” Chester said in a peaceful tone. “I’m merely trying to get the facts
right. One more question, then I think we’re done, okay?”
Laurie didn’t look too enthusiastic but nodded.
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“You said you gave him the injection. I imagine that you and Jake had probably
developed a routine and worked it out between the two of you who was responsible for
what. Was what you did that night the way you normally worked?”
“Not quite. Usually the medication was mainly Jake’s part. But he wasn’t allowed to
treat Jay owing to the next of kin policy, so I took over.”
Chester smiled at him. “Well, Laurie, thank you for your time. I really appreciate it.” He
got up to leave and Laurie followed him to the door.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I couldn’t tell you anything which wasn’t in the report, though.”
“Oh, that’s all right. Trust me, you helped a lot. Bye.”
“Bye.”
On the way back to the car, Chester patted the smartphone in his pocket gratefully.
You’ll never know just how much you helped.
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Chapter Fourteen
“So? What do you think?”
“Honestly?”
Chester sighed. “With that expression on your face, I think maybe I’d rather you made
something up.”
Sheridan beamed an exaggerated, fake smile then smirked. “The music wasn’t bad,” he
offered.
“You didn’t like it,” Chester concluded.
They dodged another couple before Sheridan could answer. “Well, the storyline is,
um…interesting. A bit far-fetched and I think the end is just completely over the top, but,
you know me, I’m not a big fan of sci-fi anyway. As to the costumes… Well, that’s a matter of
taste, I suppose, although admittedly the Frank-guy was hot. Care for another drink before
we head back home?”
Chester shrugged. “Yeah, why not.”
He watched Sheridan make his way through the crowd and have a quick chat with the
bartender while he waited for their drinks. It looked a lot like he was politely declining an
offer just before he picked up the glasses and turned away.
“What?” he frowned, placing Chester’s glass in front of him.
“Seems you have found an admirer,” Chester teased.
“Huh?” Following his eyes, Sheridan shrugged and smiled a little self-consciously.
“Yeah, well, a bit daft, really.” He shook his head. “I order two drinks and he tries to chat me
up anyway. What’s he thinking?”
“Maybe he was desperate,” Chester suggested and then, on the spur of the moment and
just to test Sheridan’s reaction, he added, “Or hoping for a threesome.”
“Oh, ha ha.” Turning his head, Sheridan eyed the bartender sceptically. “You reckon?”
Chester shrugged and picked up his beer. “Could be. Why not?”
Sheridan looked at him. “Have you ever had one?”
“What? Bartender?”
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Sheridan rolled his eyes. “Threesome.”
“Oh.” Chester chuckled, sensing what the question really was. “Yes. You?”
Sheridan looked at him curiously. “No.”
“No? Why not? Because you didn’t want to or never had the chance?”
“Chess, I got married when I was twenty-four. After that I was with Jake and now you.
What do you think?”
“Well, assuming you didn’t tie the holy bond of gay matrimony as a virgin, you would
have had a few years’ time for sexual experiments before that. That’s the age when most guys
try stuff like that, isn’t it?”
“Maybe. But I…didn’t. Not that.”
“Not that,” Chester repeated playfully. “So what did you try? Come on, give me some
juicy details.”
An unexpected, cute blush crept into Sheridan’s cheeks and he looked away shyly. “I
haven’t actually tried that much, you know. At least not what you’d consider juicy and
definitely nothing like a threesome.”
“No? Think you missed out on something? Wanna give it a try?”
Sheridan’s eyes widened almost comically. “No! No, I just…” he groaned and rubbed
his forehead. “Oh, fuck. I was looking for an inconspicuous way to ask you something and
now you’re asking me if I want a threesome.” He looked up, at last registering the vital point.
“Would… Do you want to?”
Chester covered Sheridan’s hand with his own. “No, sunshine. I wouldn’t and I don’t
want to. What is it you wanted to ask me?”
“I just, um, I realised we never really talked about what we expected from…us.”
“That’s not a question,” Chester pointed out.
Sheridan took a breath. “No, it’s not. The thing I’m trying to tell you, and apparently
not very successfully, is that I want to be with you but if it’s supposed to work then I want us
to be, uh, exclusive.”
“Nicolas?”
“Huh?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly cute when you’re trying to say
something without actually saying it?”
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“But I…”
Chester caught and swallowed his protest in a long, gentle kiss, ignoring the pub full of
people around them. It was the twenty-first century in London, after all. “I’m serious about
you, too. I have been pretty much right from the start and, as far as I’m concerned, exclusive
is just fine.” He smiled, finding it endearing that someone as attractive as Sheridan could be
so insecure. “There’s no need to be jealous, Sheridan.”
“Okay,” Sheridan nodded, then suddenly met Chester’s eyes with a troubled
expression. “You wouldn’t lie to me, though, would you? I mean, if something, um,
happened, you would at least tell me, wouldn’t you? ‘Cause I’d really rather know than…”
He left the sentence unfinished and Chester confused.
“What exactly are you talking about, Sheridan?”
Sheridan took a deep, tormented breath. “I was home this afternoon. You weren’t. I
know that doesn’t mean anything, but it just got me wondering, you know? You said you’d
go to bed.”
“Oh, crap,” Chester sighed. “Why on earth did you come home?”
“Forgot my mobile this morning and, since you weren’t feeling well, I thought I’d use
the chance to check on you and drop off some of the chocolates you like so much.”
“You… Oh, God, Sheridan, I’m sorry. That’s incredibly sweet of you and I’m sorry that
you got the wrong impression.”
“I know I can trust you. I do, really. You’ve never given me any reason not to, it’s just…
It reminded me of how things used to be, I guess.”
“I know what it must have looked like to you, Sheridan. I know I said I’d go straight
back home but something…uh, came up.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Sheridan said quietly.
“Yes, in fact, I do. Both because I can’t stand to see that look in your eyes and because it
concerns you. I meant to wait until tomorrow but I suppose now is as good a time as any to
tell you.”
Chester chose his next words carefully. “Okay, you might not like to hear this. When I
left your office today, I asked a few people a few questions and found out who Jake’s partner
on the ambulance was the night you were attacked. It turned out he lives nearby, so I paid
him a little visit.”
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He took the phone from his pocket and accessed its voice recorder. “Listen.” He handed
it to Sheridan who took it with an expression of utter bewilderment.
“What…?”
“Just listen.”
For the next minutes Chester watched a multitude of emotions cross Sheridan’s face.
A few moments into the recording, Sheridan took out his recently neglected cigarettes
and absent-mindedly started toying with the packet. He looked like he could barely resist the
urge to light one while he was listening.
Eventually he shoved the phone back at Chester.
“Well, this is certainly enlightening,” he said through clenched teeth. He took a
cigarette from the packet and twisted it in his fingers for a moment, as if trying to decide
whether or not he needed it, then put it down and pushed it away.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” he said quietly.
“Well, I think I do. I’m not an expert, but I’ve got a pretty good idea of what
happened.”
“Oh, God,” Sheridan whispered, half choked. “Jay… And to think that I… Two fucking
years!” he yelled suddenly and slammed his hand on the table. A few heads turned but he
already had himself under control again. “I knew Jake was hurt when I chose Jay over him.
Who wouldn’t be, but…” He shook his head. “I never would’ve thought he’d… Oh, God, I’m
so fucking sorry.”
“Do you think he did it just because of you?” Chester asked.
Sheridan shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“I don’t think so, to be honest. He can’t have known that you’d come back to him.”
“Well, he made pretty sure he was available,” Sheridan grumbled. “And, like the fool I
am, I happily sank right into his fucking arms.” Muttering a few surprisingly colourful
swearwords, he lost his internal battle and picked up his cigarettes again. “Amazing how
they could be brothers and yet so different.”
“Were they close?”
Sheridan shook his head. “Not particularly. I think Jake was always envious of Jay. You
see, he was the older one, but Jay outdid him in pretty much everything. Jay was the
beautiful one, the one who sailed through school and even university. He was going to have
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a brilliant career as a surgeon while Jake struggled to make it as a paramedic. Their parents
are both renowned surgeons, so it was clear that their sons simply had to take the medical
path, too.”
“And then his little brother snatches the guy he fucks away from right under his nose.
Boy, that must have hit him where it hurts,” Chester mused.
“I guess it did,” Sheridan sighed unhappily. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t want to spoil your
evening, but can we go home, please?”
“Of course.”
* * * *
Sheridan made an effort at being reasonably good company throughout the trip home.
Although he tried not to let it show too much it was obvious that he was still chewing over
what he had learnt.
“Let’s just hope dear old Mrs Snyder is in bed by now,” he whispered when they
walked through the overgrown front garden of the big terrace house that contained his flat.
The faint scent of roses hung in the warm night air.
“Why? Think she’s gonna lecture you again?”
Sheridan rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me. Did I tell you that she actually asked me
why I was still wasting money on the flat here? She said I should just move in with you
instead.”
“Well, you did spend a lot of time at my place recently,” Chester pointed out, grinning.
“Not that I’d mind.”
“I just don’t know whether she’s set her mind on adopting me or on marrying me off.
She’s actually quite nice but I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who thinks it’s, oh, bloody
hell.” He chuckled and bent down to pick up the keys he’d dropped. “Maybe I shouldn’t
have had that last beer. I’m all shaky.” Still down on one knee, he looked up at Chester
through his eyelashes. “Or maybe that’s just what your presence does to me.”
“Hmm. Possible,” Chester smiled. “Maybe it’s something in the air, though, ‘cause I
think I’m beginning to feel the same.”
“Are you? Could be the roses. Maybe they bring out your romantic side.”
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“Uh-huh. Maybe. Although it could just be the sight of you on your knees.”
“You’ve got a fucking dirty mind, haven’t you?”
“So what? You’ve got a dirty mouth. I think the two make a very nice match.”
Sheridan cast a cautious glance over his shoulder to the dark, quiet house.
“Wanna stay outside a bit longer?” he asked huskily. “We could have a look at Mrs
Snyder’s roses.”
The promise in his voice sent a shiver down Chester’s spine. He grinned. “I really hope
she is in bed.”
Smirking, Sheridan raised his hand to Chester’s fly but froze mid-motion, his face
distorting into a grimace of anger.
Chester spun around. Behind him, just a few feet away and mostly hidden by the wild
growing bushes, stood Jake.
“Oh, Nicky. Need it that badly, do you?” he said coldly.
Sheridan was on his feet in an instant. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to come home.”
“How did you find me?”
“Made a couple of calls. It wasn’t easy but I found you.”
“I’m sure I told you that I don’t ever want to see you again,” Sheridan snapped.
“You’re confused, Nicky. You spent too much time on your own. That’s just not good
for you. But it’s over now. I’m here to take you back home with me. Everything will be all
right again.”
Chester held his breath. For a moment, Sheridan tilted his head to the side, and it
seemed as if Jake’s words didn’t fail to have their usual effect on him. But Sheridan just
glared at him and muttered in a low voice, “Nothing concerning you has ever been all right.”
Jake regarded him, looking as if he was trying to figure out where the weakness in his
defence was. “You don’t understand,” he said softly. “I want you to come home, Nicky. Your
little escapade is forgiven.”
“You are fucking insane to think I’d ever come back to you! Forgive me?” Sheridan let
out an incredulous laugh. “You forgive me? What have I done that needs forgiving? Fall in
love with someone else again or still not fall in love with you?”
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Jake’s eyes darted from Sheridan to Chester and back. “Love? You’re not seriously
telling me that you love this guy, are you?” he grumbled.
“I am and I do,” Sheridan said firmly. “Chess is the best that has happened to me in a
fucking long time. I’m happy with him, something I never was with you.”
“I see.” Jake took a few steps closer. “I thought you’d say that. But we both know it’s
not going to last, don’t we? Happiness is a fickle friend, darling. You can’t trust it. Not the
way you can trust me. I’m going to take care of you. You know that, don’t you?”
“I don’t fucking need you to take care of me! I can do that myself. And trust you? How
dare you speak of trust when all you’ve ever told me is a pack of lies?”
For the first time, Jake looked a little less sure of himself. He frowned. “What are you
talking about?”
Sheridan stared at him with narrowed eyes. A muscle twitched nervously in his cheek.
“What do you think I’m talking about?”
“I honestly haven’t got a clue,” Jake said, sounding as if he really had no idea.
“Jay,” Sheridan choked out.
“What about him?” Jake still seemed puzzled.
Sheridan snatched a breath and opened his mouth but no sound came out. Instead, he
ran his fingers through his hair and turned away.
“He knows the truth, Jake,” Chester said softly. “He might not want to accept it yet, but
he knows it.”
Jake’s expression as he turned on him strongly reminded Chester of a Doberman. One
that was seriously pissed off. “What the fuck did you tell him?” he hissed.
“I didn’t tell him anything,” Chester said truthfully. “Didn’t have to. It was enough for
him to hear what your former partner Laurie had to say about the night Jay died.”
“Laurie? What business did you have talking to Laurie?”
“Quite simply that there were a few inconsistencies in the medical report on Jay’s death
that needed clarification,” Chester answered calmly.
For a moment, something like fear flashed up in Jake’s eyes but he quickly regained
control. “What did that jerk Laurie tell you? Did he tell you he liked hitting the bottle quite a
bit back then? Probably still does, he could never cope with the pressure.”
“I know about the pethidine,” Sheridan said, his voice brittle with pain.
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“Pethidine?”
“Yes, pethidine,” Sheridan repeated, more firmly this time. “The pethidine you made
Laurie give Jay although you knew that he was taking his meds again. How could you do
that, Jake?”
Jake reacted surprisingly fast. His features rearranged into a mask of pity. “I think
you’re misunderstanding something, Nicky. Yes, it’s true that Jay received pethidine that
night. But only because he was in pain and we didn’t want him to suffer any longer.”
Sheridan’s eyes narrowed and his voice shook with barely controlled rage. “So you
gave him a drug that could kill him? Did kill him, in fact!”
Jake let out a sigh. “I thought it was okay. Really, I did. I didn’t know Jay was on meds
again.”
“You picked up the fucking prescription for him!” Sheridan yelled.
“So? He said he wasn’t going to take them yet, wanted to see if he could get back on
track without them. You know what he was like when it came to taking pills.”
“Yeah, I know. Responsible. But you knew that he had them, you must have at least
taken into consideration that he might have taken them. And, anyway, why didn’t you just
ask him?”
“Ask him?” Jake sounded surprised. “We couldn’t ask him. He was unconscious.”
“He wasn’t when you arrived.”
“Oh, Nicky.” A gentle but annoyingly patronising smile appeared on Jake’s face. “Is
this you thinking you remember something again?”
Sheridan shook his head tetchily. “I don’t just think I remember, I do. At least some of
it. Someone screamed to call an ambulance. Jay was there. Next to me. He held my hand,
talked to me. He…told me he loved me and that everything would be okay. He was
conscious when you arrived. I’ve seen the report. His wounds were far from fatal. They were
not even severe enough for him to lose consciousness. He shouldn’t have died, Jake. What
happened after the attack is what killed him.”
Jake let out another long-suffering sigh. “We’ve been through this before, Nicky. You
were hallucinating. You suffered from a serious trauma. You had emergency surgery and
were in a coma for two weeks. With the medication you were given you can’t remember
what did or did not happen.”
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“Jay was okay. He talked to me,” Sheridan repeated stubbornly. “Anyway, if he was
unconscious, then why give him pethidine? Its only advantage is that its onset is faster,
which is pointless if the patient is unconscious. And, if the use of pethidine was justified,
then why does your report state that he was given morphine?”
Gotcha. It was clearly written across Jake’s face as he held Sheridan’s steely gaze
unwillingly.
“He never should’ve taken you away from me, Nicky,” he said in a strangely tight
voice. “You belong with me and you did so right from the start. Jay never understood that
and I’m sorry for what happened, but I had to teach him a lesson.”
“Sorry? Oh, you should be,” Sheridan snarled. “And you will be, I’m going to see to
that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What do you think it means? You killed Jay, for heaven’s sake! Your brother, my
husband. You don’t believe we’ll let you get away with it, do you?”
“Oh, and what is it that you’re planning to do?” Jake asked unpleasantly.
“Go to the police, of course. Have you arrested and locked up, you pathetic freak!”
“You know I can’t let that happen.”
Focused on Sheridan’s reactions, Chester paid little attention to Jake. It was only when
Sheridan suddenly tensed that he realised something had changed about the atmosphere.
Following Sheridan’s eyes, he took in the expression on Jake’s beefy face. He looked at the
same time spitting mad and cold and emotionless. The next thing Chester noticed was the
knife in Jake’s hand. Its blade wasn’t particularly long, but the serrations along it gave it a
vicious look. Chester stared at it. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. Apparently
Sheridan didn’t fail to notice it, either.
“What the fuck is your problem?” he snarled.
“My problem, Nicky, is that you keep getting on your knees for the wrong guy.” He
looked at Chester, his face a distorted mask of hatred. “I knew you were trouble when I first
saw you, you little piece of shit. I could’ve just about forgiven you that you fucked him but
that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You had to take him away from me for good. This is all
your fault.”
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“Leave him alone, Jake,” Sheridan snarled through clenched teeth. “None of this is
Chester’s fault. It’s yours, entirely. Chess only opened my eyes to the truth.”
“The truth? You never needed that while you were with me. It was good between us,
we had something.”
“For fuck’s sake, Jake! You really are insane, aren’t you?” Sheridan groaned. “What we
had was a fucking freak show. You hurt me, Jake. In more than one way. You made me
believe it was my fault that Jay died just so I’d let you get on with it. Face it, I never was
yours. I never loved you and I should’ve never let you touch me in the first place. Now put
that fucking knife down and go away unless you want me to call the cops right now.”
“I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“Fine.”
If asked, Chester couldn’t have said what happened first. He was fairly sure he saw
Sheridan reach inside his pocket, then, illogically, heard him scream. It sounded strange, so
full of fear, but he never got round to figuring it out. Sharp pain sliced through him, tearing
at his insides. Another scream, more blind fury than fear this time. Something warm spilled
over his legs, a tug somewhere in his stomach, then more of the excruciating agony. He heard
a nasty thud as his head hit the ground. Looking up through the fog that had suddenly
appeared from nowhere, he saw Sheridan tackle the much larger Jake. The knife. There had
been a knife in Jake’s hand, hadn’t there? He tried to warn Sheridan, to tell him to back off,
but he couldn’t find his voice. He couldn’t move his legs, either, and breathing, oh, God, it
was so hard to breathe. Helplessly writhing on the ground, he watched Jake lunge forward,
the nasty knife aimed at Sheridan’s chest. Again, Chester wanted to scream but couldn’t. All
he could do was watch the blurry scene in front of him. Dodging the knife in a quick,
graceful movement, Sheridan brought his leg up and kicked Jake firmly in the groin.
Doubling over, Jake made another, desperate attempt at attacking Sheridan but was stopped
by the impact of Sheridan’s boot that caught him square in the chest. He went down like a
sack of potatoes. Sheridan took a second to check his pulse then, in an instant, was kneeling
at Chester’s side.
“Don’t move, sweetheart. Don’t move,” he said imploringly. Strong hands pressed
somewhere on Chester’s stomach and the pain eased off a bit. It became easier to breathe,
too. Chester gratefully sucked in a breath and promptly started coughing.
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“Easy, sweetheart. Try to take shallow breaths, okay?” Sheridan still knelt at his side,
his face pale with concern. Something was shoved under Chester’s head, rough and smelling
of leather and cigarettes. Sheridan’s jacket. The pressure on his stomach changed and moved
to his chest. He snatched another tentative breath, relieved when it smoothly went in and out
of his lungs.
“Nice moves,” he wheezed. “Class in self-defence?”
“No. Human anatomy. If anyone knows what brings a big guy down it’s me.”
“Just remind me never to get into a fight with you.”
“Chess, love, please don’t…” He heard Sheridan beg but never found out the rest of the
sentence as his world disappeared into shadows.
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Chapter Fifteen
Sometimes there was a voice. Too low to make out the words, it kept tugging at the
fragile rim of his consciousness. It sounded nice. Soothing. Somehow familiar, but the tone
was different. It hadn’t always been this soft, this…concerned. Had it? What was it trying to
tell him? Whatever it was, it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that it kept him
company in the lonely confinement of his own mind. It was nice to have company on this
nebular drift through time. Not that time mattered anymore. Nothing mattered except
listening to that soft, beautiful voice.
Today something was different. The voice wasn’t there and the warm, caressing touch
to his hand that usually came with it was missing, too. Instead he became increasingly aware
of an uncomfortable tightness in his throat, an unyielding pressure in his chest. He coughed
and tried to swallow but found he couldn’t. Whatever had caused this tightness was blocking
his airway and… He choked, coughed, gagged when something moved in his windpipe and
coughed again.
“It’s okay, Chester. You can breathe now,” a voice informed him.
“Well, hello there,” a second voice said cheerfully. “It’s about time for you to wake up.”
Chester reluctantly opened his eyes to the voices. They were kind but neither of them
was the soothing one he remembered. Maybe he could ask them to bring the other voice
back. That soft, husky drawl that never tired of telling him stories… Bright light stung his
eyes and he squeezed them shut again.
“Sorry,” someone said apologetically. “The light’s off. You can open your eyes now.”
Chester tried again. This time the room he was in was dimly lit and it didn’t hurt to
look around. A man and a woman, both dressed in white, observed him with professional
concern.
“How are you feeling?” the woman asked.
“Uh, okay, I think,” a third voice said. Chester was confused. That voice was faintly
familiar but he had wanted to say those words, so why…? He closed his eyes again,
overwhelmed by the complexity of it all.
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“No, no, Chester, stay with us,” a voice, male, scolded. “Come on, you managed to
wake up, now staying awake is much easier.”
Yes, but where was the point in being awake if it meant that the nice voice was no
longer there?
“Doctor Evil’s gonna be mighty pissed off when he comes in,” the female voice said,
sounding amused.
“Not sure he’s coming in today at all,” the man answered. “As far as I remember he’s in
court today.”
“Oh, right. Reckon they’re gonna let him off?”
“I should hope so. From what I gather it was self-defence.”
“Yeah, but apparently that other guy—”
“Shush,” the man interrupted her. “I think he can still hear us. Chester? Are you
awake? Come on, mate, open your eyes.”
No, I can’t. Don’t want to. Please, just get that sweet voice here, then maybe I’ll try.
“Maybe I could text him,” the woman suggested.
“Whom?”
“Who do you think? Doctor Evil himself, Sheridan, of course. He’s bound to want to
know that he’s awake.”
Something tugged at the back of Chester’s mind. That name… Sheridan. An ugly knife.
Jake, so angry… His eyes opened of their own accord. “Sheridan?” he croaked. “Where is he?
Is he okay?” The words hurt his dried-out throat only marginally more than his mind.
“Shh, easy. Stay down,” the male voice warned. “Sheridan’s fine. Hardly a scratch on
him, if that’s what you mean. Unlike you.”
Something brushed Chester’s lips. “Here, drink some water, it’ll help.”
Chester sucked some cool liquid through the straw. It felt, indeed, good in his dry
mouth and down his sore throat.
“Where is Sheridan?” he repeated in a voice that sounded much more like his own.
The two nurses exchanged a glance.
“He, uh, should be here later today,” the woman said. A plate pinned to her chest
identified her as Carol.
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“Until then you should take it easy, okay? After all, you do want him to find you
awake, don’t you?”
“Uh-huh,” Chester hummed and took a look around the room. Sickeningly yellow
walls, anonymous floral paintings, grey linoleum floors. No doubt, he was in a hospital.
“What happened?”
“You and Doctor Sheridan were attacked. You got stabbed and were brought here. You
lost a lot of blood and needed emergency surgery, but we’re confident that you’re going to
make a full recovery,” the male nurse, Tony, explained. “You’ll be as good as new within just
a few weeks, you’ll see.”
“Is he okay?” Chester asked. He was fairly certain that question had cropped up before
but he couldn’t seem to remember the answer.
“Doctor Sheridan is, uh, fine,” Tony said hesitantly.
“Where is he?” Another question that had been asked before.
Tony sighed. “Oh, what the hell. Someone’s gonna tell you eventually, anyway. He’s in
court, on trial.”
“Oh. Yeah, he does that a lot. They just love him as an expert witness.” Chester smiled
fondly.
“Not as a witness, Chester,” Carol said softly. “He is on trial. For, um, aggravated
battery.”
“Aggravated battery?” Chester croaked and tried to frown. “Sheridan? But he
wouldn’t… How?”
“Well, the guy who attacked you ended up with a couple of broken ribs when Doctor
Sheridan took him out.”
“Broke his ribs? Oh, God, now that’s a bit extreme, isn’t it? Although he definitely
deserved it, the bastard.”
“I believe you’re safe to say that,” Tony said. “He very nearly killed you.”
“Did he?”
Tony and Carol nodded in unison. “You were clinically dead by the time the ambulance
arrived,” Carol explained. “If Doctor Sheridan hadn’t taken such good care of you, you
wouldn’t have survived.”
Chester didn’t fail to see the irony. “Well, he is at his best with dead people.”
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She grinned but there was a lot of admiration in her voice as she said, “No, seriously.
That man has resuscitation down to an art. Mouth-to-mouth, cardiac massage, the full
programme. Kept it up for a quarter of an hour, which must have been pretty hard given the
circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” Chester asked uncomfortably. That didn’t sound good.
“He had a cut in his hand. Nothing severe, but it must have hurt like a real bitch during
cardiac massage. And, yet, he wouldn’t let anyone look at it until you were safely out of
surgery.” Her eyes turned soft. “He’s barely left your side since, you know. Spent almost day
and night here. It makes you wonder how he can survive on what little sleep he allows
himself.”
Chester frowned. “How long have I been in a coma?”
“Ten days.”
“Ten days? Oh, fuck.”
“Ah well, at least now you know that man of yours is seriously dedicated.” Carol
grinned. “Make sure to keep him. The likes of him are hard to find.”
Chester had to endure a disturbingly thorough examination from a doctor during the
hours that followed but that wasn’t as gruelling as having to wait for news from Sheridan.
Carol had indeed sent him a text message using her private phone but had yet to receive an
answer.
She’d been trying to pop in every ten minutes or so, disappointing him anew every time
she shook her head with an increasingly concerned expression. They both knew that, if
Sheridan’s plea of self-defence wasn’t accepted, he could end up with a prison sentence.
When his door was opened quietly yet again, Chester fully expected to see Carol’s tired,
compassionate face. Instead, an even more tired-looking Sheridan entered.
“Oh. My. God.”
Sheridan looked rather sensational in a pale grey, tailored suit that emphasised his tall
frame and broad shoulders. His black hair was for once tamed by a neat cut and slicked back,
showing off his high cheekbones and delicate features.
“You look good enough to eat,” Chester sighed appreciatively.
“Thank you,” Sheridan answered, perplexed, then his eyes lit up. “You’re awake! You
bastard! I knew you were gonna do it the minute I turned my back!” He rushed to Chester’s
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side, stopping only just short from gathering him up in his arms. Looking down at him with
eyes full of concern, he asked, “How do you feel?”
“Honestly? A bit like I’ve been run over by a car. I ache in places that I didn’t even
know existed.”
Sheridan smiled. “Yeah, I remember that. It’s normal. Your muscles ache because you
haven’t been using them. It’ll stop in two or maybe three days.”
“Good to know. How did the trial go?”
Sheridan looked surprised. “How do you know there was a trial?”
“Carol told me.”
“Oh, the old blabbermouth.” Sheridan sighed. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Looks like it. I take it that’s a good sign?”
“It is. Whatever doubts remained after I gave them my version of events were wiped
out efficiently by dear old Mrs Snyder.” He smirked. “Apparently she watched most of what
happened and even recorded most of our conversation. She confirmed that Jake attacked us
both and I merely acted in self-defence.”
“So you’re totally cleared?”
“Yep.” Sheridan gave a lopsided grin. “Although the judge strongly suggested I see a
psychiatrist. Apparently I’ve got relationship issues and self-destructive tendencies.”
“Are you going to do it?”
Pulling a face, Sheridan answered, “Well, I’m already seeing someone because of the
post-traumatic stress disorder that I’ve got and it basically all comes down to that. Besides, I
think my relationship issues have efficiently been solved once and for all.”
“What happened to Jake?” Chester asked, at last forcing himself to address the matter
that had been tugging at the back of his mind for quite a while now.
Sheridan took a breath. “As soon as he’s out of hospital they’re going to put him on trial
for Jay’s death.”
“He’s going to be on trial for that?”
“Yes. From what I’ve been told he’ll be charged with murder and with the evidence that
a very cunning person gathered he’ll probably end up with a life sentence.”
“I don’t really know what to say right now,” Chester said slowly. “Would it be awfully
crude of me to jump up and shout yes?”
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Sheridan suppressed a smile. “Above all, it would be extremely painful, so I suggest
you find a different way of expressing that sentiment.”
Sobering up, Chester gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, Sheridan. It really
shouldn’t have got that far.”
“It’s not your fault, sweetheart. Jake just couldn’t let go. I never realised how
pathetically obsessive he really was and I guess I was just too numb after Jay’s death to stop
him.”
“Well, you certainly stopped him this time. Broke his ribs, tsk.”
Sheridan took a shuddery breath and let it out slowly. “He’s lucky to still be alive. I
swear, the second he got at you with that knife, I would’ve done anything to stop him. I’m
only sorry that I couldn’t stop him before…” He broke off, choked by the tears that suddenly
welled up in his eyes.
Reaching out, Chester took Sheridan’s hand in his. “Shh, it’s okay, sunshine. It’s all
over. He will never hurt you again.”
Sheridan nodded and impatiently wiped a stray tear away. “I know,” he sighed. “But to
think that I almost lost you, too… It’s haunting my dreams. I keep remembering that moment
when I checked your pulse and there was nothing there.” He squeezed Chester’s hand.
“Don’t ever do that to me again, okay? I couldn’t stand losing you.”
“You didn’t lose me, sunshine. I’m still here, thanks to you, from what Carol told me.
She was quite impressed with your work.”
Sheridan gave a shrug. “After all, I trained as an emergency doctor, initially. There are
some things you just don’t forget.”
“Thank you, Nicolas,” Chester said earnestly.
“Any time, sweetheart.” Bending over, Sheridan kissed him gently.
“Well, you do realise that I was officially dead for a few moments and it’s only because
of you that I didn’t get to rest in peace. I think that means I get to haunt you not as a ghost
but in the flesh and, trust me, if I ever get out of here that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“For fuck’s sake, Chess, that’s nothing to joke about!” Sheridan sounded sincerely
appalled.
“Why not? You joke about stuff like that all the time and I joke about everything all the
time.”
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“Yes, but I spend my time around dead people, so—”
“Sheridan?”
“Huh?”
“Shut up. You saved my life so I should be sinking into your strong arms with a
grateful little sigh and kissing you. I’m afraid I’m having some trouble with the sinking so
we’re going to have to settle for the sighing and kissing.”
“Sounds good enough to me,” Sheridan smiled.
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Chapter Sixteen
“This was delicious,” Chester said and pushed his plate away. “Thank you, sunshine.”
“Any time, love.”
“You do realise that you’re going to have to do the actual cooking yourself soon,
though, right? You can’t keep buying your way out of it by taking me to restaurants forever.”
“Yeah, I know. How could I forget if you keep reminding me almost every day?”
Chester grinned. “Well, that’s the point of reminding, isn’t it? So you don’t forget.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll cook something for you, I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
“You do that. But you do understand that I didn’t want you to end up with food
poisoning in hospital today, don’t you?”
“How very considerate of you.”
“Yeah, well, that’s me,” Sheridan smirked.
“Anyway, ready to go?”
“Yep.”
Smiling, Chester watched Sheridan as he paid the bill. He was still skittish, but he was
bound to be after the day he’d had. If he knew what was waiting for him at home he
probably wouldn’t have made it through dinner.
“Ready?” he asked softly. Sheridan nodded and pushed up from his chair. He
automatically reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, but pulled back his hand and
sighed. Apparently he still hadn’t got used to no longer having any cigarettes with him.
“Miss it?” Chester asked compassionately when they had left the restaurant.
Sheridan rolled his eyes. “You bet! Today I really wish I hadn’t quit.”
“You don’t need them, sunshine,” Chester said. “Remember, they’re just emotional
crutches and you’re stronger than that.”
“For fuck’s sake, Chess! Don’t you start this psychobabble on me, too! It’s bad enough
that I have to listen to it in therapy once a week.”
“She’s right, though. Cigarettes are just a means of escapism,” he quoted cheerfully.
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Sheridan groaned. “I never should have told you any of that.”
“Oh, come on, be honest. You couldn’t resist taking the piss out of her yourself.”
“Doesn’t mean you get to wind me up with it all the time now. After all, I’m a sensitive,
hurt soul. I need to be treated with care and respect.”
Chester wasn’t deceived by his serious expression. “Just wait until tonight then I’m
gonna give you all the care you deserve,” he teased.
“Ooh, is that a promise?”
“If you want it to be.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” Sheridan grinned then suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.
“Chester? What the fuck is that?”
“What does it look like?” Chester said smoothly.
“It looks like… But it can’t be… How…?”
Sheridan’s grey eyes darted to and fro between Chester and the huge black motorbike
that was parked in front of Chester’s house. Chester knew he must have recognised it
instantly.
“I thought you deserved a little treat after the day you had,” he said softly.
“Is this…?” Sheridan asked in an awestruck voice as he cautiously approached the
machine.
“Yes, it is. Your bike. Or Jay’s, depending on how you see it. It’s repaired and as good
as new, as I’ve been told.”
“Oh, my God,” Sheridan whispered, trailing his fingers admiringly along the shiny
chrome handles. “That’s just… I really don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay, sunshine. The look in your eyes tells me everything I need to know.” It did,
indeed.
“It must have cost a fortune,” Sheridan said guiltily after several minutes of thoroughly
inspecting the bike.
Chester shrugged. “It’s worth it. Besides, I basically spent your money on it, anyway.”
“My money? How’s that?”
“I paid for it with the advance I got for the new book.”
“But that’s your book, so it’s your money, too,” Sheridan objected.
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“It never would’ve turned out the way it did without you,” Chester said and, standing
behind Sheridan, slipped his arms around his waist. “I think my muse deserves a little
gratification, don’t you?”
“You get that kind of money as an advance for a book?” Sheridan asked incredulously.
“Ah well, um…yes. That and a little more.” Chester grinned. “Only if it’s good,
though.”
“And this one is?”
“It’s brilliant, but that’s just my opinion, and, since I’m the author, I’m bound to be
biased. But enough about books. Go get changed and take the beast out for a ride. After all, I
never got round to having it tested.”
Sheridan was still beaming from ear to ear by the time he returned five minutes later,
dressed in his leather clothes.
“My, this sight alone is worth it,” Chester sighed dreamily. “You look adorable,
sunshine. Too bad you’re taking this cute arse away now.” He patted Sheridan’s leather-clad
butt.
“I fully intend to return it for further servicing, though,” Sheridan said levelly. He
turned to his bike and straddled it but hesitated. “I do love you, Chess. And you really are
the best that has happened to me in a long time.” Taking a deep breath he looked at Chester
with eyes full of love. His voice shook as he said, “You know, when I’m with you, when you
look at me the way you do sometimes, then I think that maybe there is a reason I didn’t die
that night. Maybe I really wasn’t supposed to go yet.”
Chester swallowed. He took Sheridan’s hand in his, gripping those strong, gloved
fingers with his own. “I love you too, sunshine. And no, you weren’t supposed to go. You’re
supposed to be here, with me and enjoying life at my side. But, right now, you’re supposed
to enjoy the ride.” Grinning, he stepped back and added, “Oh, and have her back by
midnight, will you?”
“Aye, sir,” Sheridan chuckled and started the engine, roaring off seconds later with a
delighted laugh. Chester looked after him until the bike’s backlights had disappeared around
a corner then went inside. He opened a bottle of wine and went to watch TV in the bedroom,
knowing there was little point in waiting for Sheridan’s return. Knowing him, he was
probably already halfway to Scotland.
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A few hours later, Chester barely noticed Sheridan slip under the duvet but there he
was, hard muscles shifting under cool skin that brushed against his own. He shuddered
delicately then quivered as a hot, wet mouth closed firmly around his half-hard, but rapidly
filling, cock. Taken by surprise, he couldn’t resist thrusting deep into the sweet warmth. Not
that he tried or even wanted to resist. Sheridan let him do it, curling his tongue along
Chester’s shaft when he pushed in, lapping at the head when he pulled back. Chester
groaned. He wouldn’t last long. The sensations seemed bizarrely magnified in his state of
drowsiness. Supple, slick fingers gripped his balls, playing, caressing and, oh, wandering
further to…
Disappointingly, Sheridan’s mouth left him but the same strong fingers curled around
his cock, stroking him up and down and back up with that perfect little twist around the
head, just the right way, just as he loved it. Sheridan suddenly behind him, spooning up, his
body so solid and strong. Hot skin warming his back, a firm hand nudging his legs apart and
wandering up to that sweet hidden spot, stroking, teasing, dipping in just past the tight seal.
Cool, slick wetness inside him. Chester groaned and quivered with anticipation. He pushed
back, hungry for more.
Sheridan’s chuckle just above his ear, a deep, sexy sound that stirred the tiny hairs on
his neck and sent a delicious shiver down his spine. Sheridan’s cock impatiently bumping his
thigh. A blunt pressure against his hole and a light sting as, at last, he was breached. Oh,
God, yes… Velvety steel inside him, making room, filling him. A nice, snug fit. A moan,
needy and desperate. He couldn’t tell whose it was and it didn’t matter. Just please, move…
Retreat, the threat of frustrating emptiness, almost, but not quite. Sheridan shoved in and
started over again, a tormenting dance of bittersweet withdrawal and satisfying fulfilment.
Chester’s world dissolved in the noise of their combined groans and grunts, the feel of
their bodies writhing in perfect unison, their shared breaths and smells. His excitement built,
rapidly, feverishly, until it culminated in an explosion that started in his groin, sent sparks
up his spine and set his brain on fire. Leaning back into Sheridan’s embrace, he gratefully
sank into the cocoon his lover’s body created for him.
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Chapter Seventeen
Chester woke to a dark, quiet room. He hadn’t even realised that he’d dozed off again.
Poor Sheridan. Poor Sheridan, indeed. Only he wasn’t there. His side of the bed was deserted
and cold. Chester checked his watch. Half past five in the morning. He remembered that
Sheridan had returned home from wherever he had taken that monster of a machine for a
test ride. The delicious soreness inside him was proof enough of that. But why wasn’t he in
bed?
Chester listened into the darkness but it was quiet. Too quiet. Images he’d hoped
belonged to the past started surfacing as a cold fist gripped his heart. He got out of bed and
slipped into his dressing gown. When he left the bedroom, he found the house as silent and
dark as he’d expected it. He shuffled down the hall, bare feet noiseless on the cool tiles. Then
he noticed the light that fell through the gap under the kitchen door. The kitchen, not the
bathroom.
Maybe he’s just making coffee, he tried to convince himself. The moment he thought it, he
knew he didn’t believe it. Oh, God, Sheridan, please don’t have started cutting yourself again, he
thought but, at the back of his mind, right there, where reality and nightmares met, his tired
brain presented him with the pictures he knew he was going to have to face soon. He should
have known. Really, he should have, but Sheridan had been holding on so well since the
attack two months ago. He’d started therapy, had quit smoking and hadn’t cut himself since
that night at his flat when Chester had made him face his demons. But a day like the one he’d
just had was bound to have been too much and set him back.
Chester had been both surprised and a little flattered when Sheridan had asked him for
his moral support. After mulling it over in silence for what must have been quite a while,
Sheridan had decided to pay Jay’s parents a visit. They were Jake’s parents, too, Chester had to
remind himself once again. Sheridan was right. It really was astonishing how the two
brothers could have turned out so differently. During the days prior to the visit, Sheridan
had told him a bit more about his family background and the strong bond he’d built with
Jay’s parents after the untimely death of his own parents.
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When the initial surprise had worn off, Jay’s parents had welcomed Sheridan with open
arms. Margret had displayed an astonishing degree of kindness when she’d looked at
Sheridan and said, “Nicolas, dear. We never blamed you for what happened with Jay. None
of that was your fault. And Jacob… Well, to be honest, I feel like I should be the one
apologising. What he did to you was simply unforgivable. But, with Jay gone and Jacob in
prison for God knows how long, we’ve lost two of our sons already, Nicolas. Please don’t let
us lose our last one, too.”
Afterwards she’d simply hugged him and asked him to fill her in on the last few years
of his life. They had talked for a long time and, when Margret had eventually suggested they
visit Jay’s grave, Sheridan had agreed reluctantly. Chester had stayed behind, sensing that
this was a step Sheridan had to take on his own. It was the first time he had been there and,
when he returned, he was predictably discomposed. It had taken him the rest of the
afternoon and the first part of the evening to become his usual self again.
Chester sighed. He had reached the kitchen, took a deep breath to brace himself and
went inside.
“Put the knife down, Sheridan.”
Sheridan jumped in fright. “Fuck, Chess! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
His indignant tone was laced with guilt.
“No, just stopping you from doing something stupid.”
“I thought you were asleep. I’m sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up,” Sheridan said
sheepishly.
“Do you really believe I didn’t notice how you’re awake at night?”
“I couldn’t sleep, so what? I just needed to move around a bit.”
“Uh-huh. With the knife?”
“Scalpel,” Sheridan corrected automatically.
“Whatever it is, put it down.”
“But I’m just…”
“Nicolas,” Chester said softly. “Do you really want to lie to me now? I know today was
extremely stressful for you. We talked about it, though. We agreed that you come to me and
tell me if you have these feelings again.”
Sheridan stared at him blankly. “Huh?”
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“You know this doesn’t help you. If you want to focus, talk to me. Concentrate on me.
I’m here for you. Pain can’t help you get better, but I can.” Chester hated saying these words
and he could only hope that they had the desired effect on Sheridan.
Sheridan turned around to him, a frown on his face and the scalpel in his hand.
“I’m only making you breakfast,” he said, bewildered.
“You… What?”
Sheridan pointed at the worktop, making Chester feel extremely stupid as he took in
the chaos of kitchen utensils and food.
Picking up a bowl that contained a rich, creamy, pale substance, Sheridan explained
almost apologetically, “I wanted to make pancakes for you. I haven’t made them in a while,
you see, so I thought I’d make a test run. I just wanted to get them right.”
“Pancakes?” Chester asked, nonplussed.
Sheridan nodded. “Yes, pancakes. I asked Mags for the recipe today. I wasn’t quite sure
if I remembered correctly and she was the one who taught me how to make them in the first
place because Jay loved them so much.” He nudged the bowl absent-mindedly. “I’m sorry,
Chess, I meant it to be a surprise because you always want me to cook for you and I keep
putting it off and this is the only thing I know I can make which is actually edible. I didn’t
mean to frighten you. I’m sorry,” he repeated gloomily.
“It’s okay, sunshine,” Chester groaned, feeling a complete idiot. “Just what do you need
that for?” He indicated the scalpel with his head.
“Oh, that.” Sheridan grinned self-consciously. “I wanted to put these roses on your tray
but they’re full of thorns. I thought I’d cut them off so you don’t get pricked.” He held up
two beautiful, dark red roses.
“I see, but… With a scalpel?”
Sheridan shrugged. “It’s what I’m best with. All those kitchen knives are just so chunky
and impractical. I didn’t want to end up cutting my finger so I used a scalpel instead. I work
with one every day, after all.”
“Oh, Sheridan,” Chester laughed at last, relieved. “You’re really unbelievable and I
think it’s incredibly sweet of you to make pancakes for me in the middle of the night. Shall
we eat? I’m actually feeling a bit peckish right now.”
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Playfully tilting his head to the side, Sheridan grinned. “Didn’t you say you wanted to
lose weight? I’m not sure eating pancakes at six in the morning is the right way to do that.”
“Oh, that’s okay.” Leaning up, Chester slipped his arm around Sheridan’s neck. “We’ll
just have to find a way to burn off the calories afterwards.”
“Hmm. What could we possibly do to do that?” Sheridan lowered his head for a kiss.
“I think this is a pretty good start,” Chester sighed contentedly when they surfaced
some time later.
“Oh, it definitely is. Chess?”
“Yes, sunshine?”
“How about we delay breakfast for a bit?”
“Delay breakfast?” Chester feigned disappointment. “Why, what do you want to do
instead?”
A slow, lascivious smile spread across Sheridan’s face. He picked up one of the roses
and trailed its dark red head along Chester’s cheek. “I’ve always wanted to find out what
you can do with one of those.”
“That’s, uh, easy.” Chester gasped when Sheridan untied the belt of his dressing gown,
pushed it open and caressed his bare skin with the velvety petals. “You can look at it, you
can, oh…smell it and…”
“I’m sure I can come up with a few more things,” Sheridan whispered.
A moan escaped Chester’s lips. “I do hope you’ve removed all the thorns.”
The corners of Sheridan’s mouth lifted in a loving half-smile. “Of course I have,
sweetheart.”
“That’s good, then. Uh, what’s this?” Chester asked when he noticed the other item on
the breakfast tray. Turning his head, Sheridan followed the direction of his gaze.
“Oh, that.” He dropped the rose and picked up the long, elegantly curved, snow-white
feather instead. Twisting it in his fingers, he regarded it thoughtfully. “I found it among the
roses. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one like it, so big and…perfect.” Looking a little self-
conscious, he added, “You know, it reminds me of you, actually.”
“Why? Because it’s big, fluffy and pale?”
Sheridan chuckled softly but shook his head. “No. It’s a feather. You’re a writer.”
“Uh… I know there is a deeper meaning to that, but I’m not sure I get it.”
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“People used to write with feathers,” Sheridan explained pensively. “But I think what I
really mean is… Feathers are nice to look at, soft and pleasant on the surface, but they’re also
incredibly tough. Just think of everything they have to withstand. And, to me, that’s you.
You’re pleasant and lighthearted on the outside, but underneath you’re incredibly tough and
supportive and ready to defy any hardship life throws at you, or at me, for that matter.”
“Hmm. So I’m a feather, huh? What about you?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Lowering his gaze, Sheridan came to rest his eyes on the scalpel
he’d dropped on the worktop. He prodded it lightly with his fingertip. “That, if anything, I
suppose.”
Chester raised his eyebrows. “You think you’re a knife? Why?”
“Always on edge and ready to hurt,” Sheridan answered without hesitation. He looked
up again and met Chester’s gaze. The memory of pain still lingered in his eyes, but there was
hope, too. And love, lots of love, as he quietly added, “At least, that was what I used to be
until you found me and saved me. From him, but, above all, from myself.”
“Talk about the feather being mightier than the sword,” Chester mused. “Or, rather,
knife.”
“Yes.” Sheridan nodded slowly. “Although this is a scalpel, really.”
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
Sub-Mission
Sage Marlowe
Excerpt
Chapter One
“He’s a pretty thing, isn’t he?” Robert observed, following Pierce’s gaze, which kept
lingering on the handsome man at the bar.
“Yeah, he’s all right.” Pierce shrugged.
“More like fucking hot, don’t you think?” Robert enthused, and for once, Pierce agreed
with him entirely. He let his gaze wander up those long, slender legs, the tight, leather-clad
bottom and further up the hard line of the man’s body to where his dark hair curled
enticingly over the collar of his leather jacket. Although the stranger’s back was currently
turned towards him, Pierce had got a long enough glimpse of his face to know that it
matched the attractive body. He was wondering if he should try to make a pass when the
unwelcome feeling of being watched made him focus on Robert again. Apparently he was
still waiting for an answer. “I already said he’s all right, didn’t I?”
“You fancy him.” It wasn’t a question.
“Well, I guess I wouldn’t deny him, although the good-looking ones aren’t necessarily
good lays. Besides, he might be covered in spots or have a hairy back.” Pierce aimed to sound
far more indifferent than he felt. He took another sip of his drink, knowing that he should
slow down, but he was enjoying the sizzling, fizzy feeling it created in the pit of his stomach
too much.
“I can assure you, what’s underneath his clothes is just as pretty as his face. And he’s a
great lay.”
“Is he?”
“Absolutely.”
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Pierce was about to dismiss it and just change the topic, but something in Robert’s face
as he eyed the beautiful stranger made him change his mind. He sighed and took the bait.
“How would you know?”
Robert’s expression turned smug. “I’ve had him. Repeatedly. He’s all mine.”
Pierce quickly raised his glass to hide the smirk on his face. Robert could be fun to talk
to, and some of the guys at the club liked him as a Dom, but he also had a reputation for
being a shameless show-off who’d make up stories to draw attention to himself.
“Yours?” Pierce didn’t bother to keep the disbelief out of his voice this time. No way
was someone who looked like the guy at the bar with someone like Robert. Especially not
since everything about the man’s body language, from the straight back and proudly raised
head to the easy way he was talking to the bartender, stated that he was self-assured and
strong—a confident, independent alpha male. Robert invariably wanted his men tame and
submissive.
“Yes.” Robert’s tone and the expression on his face sent a shiver down Pierce’s spine.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
Pierce drew a hesitant breath. “Well, admittedly he doesn’t look like your usual type,”
he answered warily.
“No? What does he look like, then?” There was definitely a nasty tone in Robert’s voice
but it wasn’t angry, it was…challenging. Competitive. Pierce shrugged and thanked the
waiter who had brought their refills. He didn’t want to argue, but apparently Robert was
determined to irritate him. And he was beginning to succeed.
“He just doesn’t look like the submissive type to me.”
“Looks can be deceptive,” Robert replied idly.
“Yeah, well, you asked. If you ask me, that guy’s a complete top. I don’t think he’d so
much as bottom for anyone, let alone submit. A pity really.” Pierce took no small pride in the
fact that he had an uncanny ability to not only instantly recognise whether a man was gay or
not but to also figure out what they were like in bed within minutes. Before even trying to
get them there. So far, he hadn’t been wrong once. He drained half of his drink in one large
gulp, preparing to end the conversation, when Robert gave him a malicious grin.
“Wanna do him?”
Pierce made an effort not to choke. “What?”
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Robert’s grin widened. “I’ll let you fuck him if you want.” Leaning in, he added, “And
trust me, he is going to bottom.”
Pierce’s breath hitched as electricity jolted through his insides to explode in his groin. It
had been ages since the mere thought of fucking someone had got him this turned on this
quick. He’d had his fair share of experience and was used to being in control, and yet here he
was, his trousers suddenly far too tight for comfort and he felt like a teenager hoping to get
laid for the very first time. He stole a quick glance at the bar. Even though he knew he
shouldn’t be, he was interested. Very interested. The idea of exploring the slender, handsome
body that lay underneath all that leather was enticing. He swallowed, grappling with his
self-control, and stared at Robert. “Sure he’s up to that? Shouldn’t you maybe ask him if he’s
okay with it before you offer him to other people?”
Grinning triumphantly, Robert shrugged. “He’s okay with whatever I tell him. I’ll take
that as a yes, then, shall I?”
His cock throbbing painfully in the confinement of his own leather trousers, Pierce took
a deep breath. “Maybe you could introduce us first.”
“My pleasure,” Robert replied with an easy, slightly sharkish smirk and went to the bar.
Pierce’s heartbeat sped up. He watched Robert walk up to the attractive stranger and
slip a hand around his narrow waist. The guy stiffened but didn’t move, apart from lowering
his head so Robert could make himself heard over the background noise of the club.
Whatever Robert told him made his head dart up and he took a step back. Following him
easily, Robert invaded his space and pressed him against the solid wood of the bar. A small
group of people passed Pierce, and he lost sight of the two men. When the others were gone,
he saw Robert walking in his direction, the stranger following him like a docile puppy. He’s
got him on a fucking leash, Pierce realised with a jolt. The sight of a black, studded leather
collar against the man’s pale skin made his groin ache even more.
“Here we are, pet.” Robert stopped in front of Pierce.
“Pierce, this is Noah. My new sub,” he announced pompously and emphasised his
point by giving the leash a little, sharp, unnecessary tug.
Noah flinched almost imperceptibly, but stood in perfect display posture. Back straight
and shoulders squared, he held his head high and with pride. Only his eyes were downcast,
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trained firmly on the floor. All in all, he looked stunningly beautiful and as tame as over six
feet of very well-proportioned man could look.
Pierce wondered how long he’d been in training. Although he himself had chosen to
remain an outsider to the lifestyle, he knew enough about it to recognise and appreciate a
well-trained sub. Noah certainly looked well trained so far, but, then again, looks could be
deceptive.
“Hello, Noah,” Pierce greeted softly. “Nice to meet you.” He knew better than to expect
an answer from Noah. It was Robert’s call whether to order his sub to silence or allow him to
speak. Surprisingly, Noah slipped up. He took a breath to answer and looked up, almost
meeting Pierce’s eyes before Robert reminded him of his position with another sharp tug on
the leash. Noah winced, gasping audibly as the leather bit into the soft flesh of his neck. He
instantly lowered his gaze back to the floor.
“I think that means you’re going to remain silent for the rest of the evening now, pet, so
you won’t forget what you’re supposed to do next time. Consider it training. You’ll get your
punishment for this later. After Pierce and I are done with you.” Robert trailed a finger down
Noah’s cheek as he spoke, his voice a low and intimate whisper. The stern, almost malicious
tinge in it sent another shiver down Pierce’s spine.
He remembered that Robert had a reputation as an extremely strict and
uncompromising Dom who believed that the liberal infliction of pain was the best teaching
method. Noah seemed to have been taught a lot already. Once again, Pierce reminded
himself that subs were in this because they wanted to be. Why grown men allowed
themselves to be treated like that was still beyond him and he couldn’t help wondering why
Noah was in it. He didn’t seem to be in need of someone who took care of his life for him so
he was probably in it for the pain.
Noah had assumed his former perfect posture again and seemed entirely composed,
but the heaving of his chest as he forced himself to breathe slowly and the flexing of the
muscles in his jaw gave him away. He’s majorly pissed off. Pierce wondered if Noah was angry
about his own slip or Robert’s disciplining of him. Maybe a bit of both. Most subs in training
were very ambitious and hated making mistakes—although mostly not from fear of
punishment but rather because they didn’t want to disappoint their Master.
“So what do you think?” Robert glanced at Pierce invitingly. “Still wanna fuck him?”
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Pierce swallowed nervously and looked at Noah, trying to read the expression on his
face, which was nearly impossible without seeing the eyes. As far as he himself was
concerned, the case was clear. Close up, Noah was even more handsome with his
symmetrical features and the perfect angles of his face. The need to have him had become
almost overwhelming. Still, Pierce would have liked a chance to ask Noah if he was really
okay with it. Knowing he was not going to get that answer, he decided to rely on the basic
fact of any Dom-sub relationship. It was the Dom who led the way, but the sub who decided
how far they went. If Noah really didn’t want to do this, he could always use his safe word
and end it.
“You know damn well I do,” Pierce growled and ran his tongue across his bottom lip,
anticipating the taste of Noah’s luscious mouth.
Grinning appreciatively, Robert tightened his grip on Noah’s leash. “Oh, there’s one
condition—I’ll be watching. You okay with that?”
Pierce’s stomach tightened. That was unexpected, although, if he was honest, he should
have known there’d be a hook to the offer.
“I don’t mind. Will he be okay with that?” He frowned, indicating Noah with his head.
The thought of Robert watching him fuck Noah wasn’t exactly a welcome one, but it could be
worse—Robert wanting to get involved, for instance. It wasn’t unusual that a Dom wanted to
keep an eye on his sub if he let him play with someone else and it wouldn’t be the first time
that Pierce would’ve had an audience either.
“I told you, he’s okay with anything I tell him to do.” Robert’s voice had assumed the
authoritative tone Pierce had come to associate with a Dom in working mode. Pierce stole a
glance at Noah, who still stood completely motionless. He hadn’t failed to notice him
shivering slightly at Robert’s words. From anticipation or unease, Pierce couldn’t tell. He can
stop this if it goes too far for him, he reminded himself again.
“Fine. Rules?”
“Nothing that would put him out of service for more than a couple of hours. I know
he’s clean, but you’ll use a condom and all the necessary precautions anyway. Apart from
that, you can do anything you want with him. He’s not allowed to speak as you’ve heard and
I’m sure he’s going to remember his basic rules better now. Won’t you, pet?”
Noah gave a tiny, tight nod, eyes locked resolutely on the floor.
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“Good boy.” Robert grinned and slid a hand around the back of Noah’s head, pulling
him down to plant a domineering kiss on his mouth while giving the bulge in Noah’s
trousers a squeeze with his other hand. “Let’s go. I can’t wait to see you two together. It’s
gonna be so fucking hot.” He turned, tugged on Noah’s leash and led him to the stairs. If
possible, the grin on his face had become even more disturbing in its smugness. He was well
aware of being watched closely and enviously by most of the people nearby and Pierce
finally understood. That was what this was all about. Robert was showing Noah off like a
trophy, using his handsome toy to render himself more noteworthy and interesting. Noah
should be well above letting himself be used like this, but apparently he was getting
something out of it too. Pierce suppressed a sigh and watched Noah’s buttocks move in front
of him, still amazed that Robert had basically given him an all-clear with Noah. Not the
wisest thing to do in the scene they were in. A lot of guys would gladly take him up on it,
which might easily cause a scenario in which Noah’s boundaries were pushed too far.
Fortunately Pierce was far from doing anything extreme. All he wanted was to have some
fun exploring Noah’s beautiful body, then fuck him senseless. He didn’t like hurting his
lovers. Hopefully this wouldn’t turn out to be a disappointment for Noah.
They reached the top floor, which contained the playrooms and the bedrooms. Pierce
was relieved when Robert turned left, towards the aisle with the bedrooms. Tonight, he
wanted it to be comfortable and preferred a decent, king-size bed to any of the fancy
equipment the playrooms offered.
Robert unlocked the door to one of the rooms and led Noah inside. Pierce trailed
behind, anticipation bubbling inside him as he thought about what he wanted to do to Noah.
“Here we are,” Robert announced. He made Noah stand a few feet away from the huge
bed in the middle of the room. A big, comfy chair stood in one corner, allowing a perfect
view of the bed. Idly running Noah’s leash through his fingers, Robert looked at Pierce
expectantly.
“You know your way around, don’t you? Toys and…stuff are in the top drawer.”
“I know.” Pierce focused on Noah, who stood in front of him in the middle of the room
in his flawless posture, eyes locked on the floor.
“What are his safe words?”
“Huh?”
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“What are his safe words?” Pierce repeated, mentally slapping himself for almost
having forgotten the most important question when playing with a sub. He had to keep in
mind that Noah was going to let him do anything, and he was trusting that Pierce would
stop as soon as he said the word.
“Oh, um, butterfly.” Robert choked out. Pierce shot him a look and grinned. Robert was
already stroking himself through his trousers, his face flushed with excitement.
“Warning or stop?”
“Warning. He won’t need the stop with you, because as soon as he’s safe worded, that
part’s over.”
“I’d prefer to know it anyway,” Pierce insisted.
Robert sighed resignedly. “You are a control freak, aren’t you? Pumpkin.”
“I just stick to the protocol.” Pierce smiled. “Okay. I’ll just check with him.” He turned
to Noah. “Noah, are you clear on the rules? Your safe words are butterfly for a warning and
pumpkin to stop altogether, right?”
Noah nodded.
“You’ll use it as soon as you need me to stop whatever it is I’m doing and I’ll back off
instantly, I promise, okay?” Another weak nod.
“The sex between us will be over then. Do you agree with these rules?”
Noah let out his breath in a little gust and nodded his head.
“Okay. I suppose you’re not allowed to meet my eyes but I want you to know that, as
far as I’m concerned, I’m happy for you to look at me. You can even talk to me, but that’s not
my decision either.” He was still trying to figure Noah out. Could that confident, proud
exterior really be hiding a submissive personality? Well, there was just one way to find out.
A pleasant way, hopefully.
“Clothes off, pet,” Robert ordered softly. Noah obliged without hesitation, slipped out
of the tight leather as smoothly as possible and stood up straight when he was done. The
leather collar and leash were still on him, the sight and implication hugely erotic. Pierce had
already decided to leave them on throughout.
“You’ve got him clamped?” he asked Robert, indicating the two vicious-looking pieces
of metal attached to Noah’s nipples. They were joined by a short, Y-shaped chain, the long
end of which was attached to the collar. Pierce winced. This was a downright sadistic device.
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Every tug on the collar would cause the clamps to bite sharply into the sensitive flesh of
Noah’s nipples. And hurt like hell.
“Oh yes,” Robert groaned.
“Maybe I should take them off.” Pierce frowned.
“Leave them on.”
“Are you sure? Looks pretty agonising.”
“It is. But he likes it. Don’t you, pet?” A tug on the chain had Noah hissing and
twitching.
“Oh yeah,” Robert purred into Noah’s ear. “You’re such a sweet little pain slut, aren’t
you?” He yanked the chain again and this time Noah couldn’t suppress a pain-filled yelp.
“Yeah, he likes it,” Robert stated with a satisfied grin and turned to Pierce. “Your turn, big
boy. I’m expecting a nice show.” He winked and handed Noah’s leash to Pierce. “Know what
you’ll do to him yet?” he asked impatiently. The prospect of watching Pierce with Noah
seemed to be a huge turn on for him.
“Hm.” Pierce fought his inner struggle silently for a moment. “To be honest, Robert, I’m
not sure if I should do this,” he admitted.
Robert gasped in surprise. “Why ever not? He’s a fucking hot piece of arse and he’s
basically begging for it.” His eyes glittered maliciously. “Would you like him to beg? I’d let
him, you know.”
Pierce shook his head and sighed. “No. I don’t want him to beg. I’d love to fuck him,
but I just can’t give him what he wants. You know I’m just not into causing pain.”
Robert shrugged. “Just warm him up a bit with a nice hard fuck and I’ll take care of the
rest when you’re done with him.”
Tuning Robert’s presence out, Pierce ran his eyes down the length of Noah’s torso and
felt his reluctance vanish as his arousal kicked in with increased intensity. He clicked his
tongue in approval as he started walking a slow circle around Noah. Robert hadn’t promised
too much. Noah’s naked body certainly was a sight for sore eyes. Although his build was
slender rather than bulky, his muscles were clearly defined underneath the smooth, pale
skin. Pierce frowned as he spotted the thin, dark red welts that marred the flawless skin on
Noah’s back, from his shoulders down to his waist. They were in different stages of healing,
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some brand new, others almost faded. Probably at least one a day. There would be more,
Pierce was sure.
He took a deep breath. More than anything else, the need to inflict pain or to have it
inflicted was what kept him from joining the scene. He simply couldn’t stand the thought of
hurting a lover intentionally, no matter how much they wanted it. And those blows had
definitely hurt. Pierce’s guess was a bull-whip, reportedly one of Robert’s favourite tools.
Shuddering at the thought, he concentrated on mapping Noah’s body with his eyes again.
There was definitely no hair on Noah’s back. There wasn’t any on other decisive parts of his
anatomy either. It just kept getting better. Pierce licked his lips. He hadn’t failed to notice that
Noah wasn’t hard, but he intended to change that soon. A small step brought him right in
front of Noah and he extended his hands, gently touching him for the first time. Noah
quivered a little but stood perfectly still as Pierce ran his hands over his body. Yes, his skin
was just as smooth to the touch as it looked.
Pierce trailed his fingers down Noah’s chest to just below his belly button, then along
his hips to that firm, well-shaped bottom and up again over his shoulders and to his neck. He
curled the fingers of one hand around the back of Noah’s head and pulled him closer. Noah
resisted for a fragment of a second, then met Pierce’s mouth. A groan escaped Pierce at that
first contact. Noah’s lips yielded under his and a wave of lust rushed through him. He
pushed eagerly, opening Noah’s reluctant mouth with his tongue and darted it inside.
Warm, moist velvet welcomed him. Noah tasted very nice; of man with just a little minty
something lingering on his breath. Moving his other hand to the small of Noah’s back, Pierce
pulled him closer and pressed their bodies together in a hard line. He rubbed his by now
achingly hard cock against Noah’s groin as he fucked Noah’s sweet mouth with his tongue.
When he felt lightheaded from lack of air, he pulled back and looked at Noah again. Flushed
and a little breathless, Noah looked sexier than ever and his body was beginning to show
some interest at last.
“On your knees.” Pierce barely recognised his own gruff voice. Noah obeyed smoothly,
still keeping his eyes on the floor.
“Open your mouth.” Noah didn’t need to be told what to do next.
Pierce groaned as Noah took him in surprisingly deeply and instantly built up a nice,
firm suction combined with a slow but steady rhythm.
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“Oh fuck,” Pierce panted, thrusting his hips. No way was he going to last if Noah kept
working him like this. “Easy, baby. I’ve got a bit more planned for you.”
Either Noah didn’t listen or chose not to obey, because he increased speed and suction a
little, effectively drawing all coherent thoughts from Pierce’s brain.
“Noah, oh fuck, yes, that’s good… Stop it, baby, stop…it,” Pierce stammered,
wondering if Noah would do as he was told and if he really wanted him to. The sweet, wet
heat of that mouth engulfing him felt just too good.
“Stop it!” Just before Pierce reached the point of no return, Noah stopped and let go.
Pierce looked down at him, feeling dazed and shaky. He was yearning to see Noah looking
up at him, but knew he wasn’t going to get that so he cleared his voice to give the next order.
“Get your sweet arse into bed so I can fuck it.”
Noah got up in a fluent, cat-like movement and stalked to the bed. He didn’t wait for
further instructions, just settled on his hands and knees with slightly parted legs, offering
himself to Pierce. The sight of him was so sexy that Pierce almost came right that minute.
Clinging on to his self-control, he took the few steps to the bed. Then he opened the drawer
and sorted through the variety of dildos, restraints, cock rings—and the more exotic toys he
wouldn’t ever dare trying out with a stranger—until he found the lube and condom he
wanted.
“Anything you need from here, baby? Do you want a ring?” Pierce asked softly. The
idea of putting a ring on Noah’s reluctant cock held a certain appeal. Before Noah had a
chance to answer, Robert’s husky voice broke the stillness of the room. “Don’t ask—just put a
fucking ring on him. Why do you think I keep him shaved?”
“Shut up. You said you wanted to watch. Watching doesn’t involve talking,” Pierce
grumbled and promptly decided against using a cock ring. He moved down the bed to kneel
behind Noah, feasting on the sight in front of him. The man was just too beautiful. Pierce ran
his hand over the perfect swell of Noah’s buttocks, caressing him with the gentleness of his
touch. It would get rough soon enough. He briefly contemplated stretching his own
boundaries a bit to give Noah a little spanking, but decided against it. The rules were his and
if Noah wanted that kind of treatment he’d have to wait for Robert to give it to him. He
clipped the end of Noah’s leash to the rail on the headrest, adjusting the length so that it
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wasn’t stretched but short enough to allow Noah to pull against its hold. That way, it was up
to Noah to decide how much he wanted to torture himself with the clamps.
Pierce squirted some lube on his fingers and went to prepare Noah. Excited as he was,
he really didn’t want to spend much time getting his lover ready but he didn’t know how
much Noah could handle and didn’t want to take any chances. He gently pushed a tentative
finger into Noah’s body.
“Is he tight? Tell me, how does it feel?” Robert’s hoarse, urgent voice interrupted.
“He’s fucking tight. He’d probably rip off my cock if I fucked him now,” Pierce snarled
back, trying to get Noah’s unwilling muscles to relax.
Robert moaned, his breath coming in time with the slow strokes on his own cock. “You
lucky bastard, I know exactly what you mean. I haven’t had him today yet. Amazing how
he’s still as tight as a virgin, like it’s his first time, isn’t it?”
Pierce huffed but didn’t answer, refusing to let Robert invade any further. Yes, Noah
was tight. Very tight. It would take a lot longer to get him ready than Pierce had anticipated,
but he was determined to give Noah’s body all the time it needed to open up for him,
regardless of how much control it took.
By the time he had managed to get a second finger in, Robert’s patience seemed to have
expired. “Just fuck him, Pierce, will you?” he grumbled harshly.
“He’s not ready and I don’t want to hurt him,” Pierce shot back, twisting his fingers this
way and that, trying to overcome Noah’s tenseness.
Robert chuckled sarcastically. “Remember he’s a pain slut. He likes it fast and hard,
don’t you, Noah? Don’t you want Pierce to give it to you just the way you like it?”
Noah jerked his shoulders in an indistinct motion.
“See?” Robert said smugly. “He wants you to take him now.”
“For fuck’s sake, Robert. Stop interfering or I’m out of this. I’m not gonna play rough
with him if he doesn’t tell me how far I can go himself, understood?”
Apparently Robert understood exactly how serious Pierce was. “Fine. Noah, tell him
you’re ready for a rough ride. Or would you rather I took over?”
Noah took a deep breath and swallowed. “Fuck me.”
“You’re gonna ache, you’re not ready for my cock,” Pierce warned.
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“I can take it,” Noah insisted quietly. Pierce wasn’t entirely convinced, but decided to
take Noah’s word for it. The concept of pain was a difficult one. He unwrapped the condom
and rolled it on, quickly slicking it up with a generous amount of lube. Angling himself, he
slowly pushed in. He stilled for a moment, soaking up the heat while giving Noah’s body
some more time to accommodate him. The vice-like grip of Noah’s muscles around his cock
was almost unbearable and he knew there was no way he could hold back for long. He gave
a first, probing thrust, watching the muscles in Noah’s back ripple as Noah pushed back,
allowing him in deeper. Soon Pierce let go and pounded into the tight, hot channel, grunting
and groaning and far too aroused to hold back any more.
Noah remained eerily quiet. The only sounds from him were gasps and an occasional,
half-suppressed grunt. Pierce would have preferred to watch Noah’s face. Most of all he
wanted to see his eyes when he came, but he wasn’t going to complain as he slammed into
Noah’s body again and again. The firm grip of the satiny insides drove Pierce ever closer to
the edge.
Sweating and breathless, Pierce knew he hadn’t much time left. He wanted to watch
Noah come even if he couldn’t see his face. Changing his angle, he aimed for Noah’s sweet
spot and snaked an arm around Noah’s waist, ready to make him fly. Noah gasped and
bucked underneath him, twisting to shift his weight to one arm. The movement pulled at his
leash and Noah screamed in pain, almost losing balance. He caught himself and shoved at
Pierce’s hand that had just found his cock and closed around it. It was barely semi-hard and
Pierce felt a sting of disappointment.
About the Author
Sage has been passionate about books from a very early age on and dreamt of writing
one for years while working on the day job instead. It took a very persistent character
in the company of a treasured Muse to finally get the first novel going. The fact that he
was gay came as a bit of a surprise, but it explained a lot.
Ever since, Sage has been the willing slave to all the fascinating guys who just keep
queuing up and want their stories told. This has resulted in several manuscripts at
various stages of completion, so there's always something to work on - preferably at
night when the rest of the house is asleep.
Sage's characters often have a dramatic and sometimes traumatic past and need to
battle some demons to be with the one they love. It doesn't hurt that they usually get
quite a lot of naughty action along the way!
Email:
Sage loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and
author biography at
.
Also by Sage Marlowe
Total-E-Bound Publishing
www.total-e-bound.com
Take a look at our exciting range of literagasmic™
erotic romance titles and discover pure quality
at Total-E-Bound.
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