H J Raine, Kelly Wyre Hearts Under Fire (New Amsterdam #1)

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

Torquere Press

www.torquerepress.com

Kelly Wyre

First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2011

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Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

CONTENTS

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Part II
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14

* * * *

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

Hearts Under Fire
By H. J. Raine and Kelly Wyre
For L. and D. Because they never do it the easy way.

* * * *

Part I
April 14
4:30 p.m.

* * * *

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

Chapter 1

Maxwell you-can-just-call-me-Clark squinted down at the

empty shelf behind the dark oak bar and sighed.

The towels were missing. Again.
"Heather!" Clark bellowed in a beleaguered baritone and

waited for the other participant in this long-standing game to
appear. The girl knew Clark was obsessive about the
placement of the towels he used to wipe the bar, and he
swore Heather moved them sometimes so she could tell him
yet again of the joys of anti-anxiety medication.

"I've got 'em, I've got 'em!" came the reply, and Heather

burst through the swinging door that led into Glow's kitchen.
Tonight was a modest night for Heather. She wore leather
leggings and a mod-tuxedo top, and her midnight blue nails
matched her short, spiky hair.

Clark eyed the ensemble and the new dye job as Heather

approached with an armful of terrycloth towels. "Are we going
for winter fairy or midnight mistress?" he asked mildly.
Heather put the towels on their shelf.

"Gothic Smurfette, actually," she retorted. "There. You

have your damned towels, O Compulsive One."

Clark grunted. "Why do I employ you again?"
Heather stood up and grinned at him. In her heels, she

was nearly eye-level with Clark's even six feet. Her lip rings
glinted at Clark as her mouth moved. "Because secretly you
adore me and hope to father my alien lovechild."

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

Eyes rolling to consider, Clark hummed. "Me? Father a

child upon my Gothic Smurfette? Not likely. Alien, however, I
could be."

"I'm thinking you're from Pluto," Heather said solemnly.
"I don't even get a real planet for a home?" Clark shook

his head and leaned on the bar, mouth twitching as he
suppressed mirth. "You're so cruel to me, O Mistress of the
Deep Blue."

Heather winked. "You say the sweetest things, Admiral."
Now Clark smiled. "Still just Sergeant. And still most

definitely retired."

"Well, you'll always be Admiral-Able to me."
Clark finally laughed, and Heather grinned in triumph. "Do

you plan these bad puns somehow? Or are you just naturally
talented?" Clark asked as he watched Heather fill one of the
sinks behind the bar with soap and water.

"I'm all sorts of talented. Jeffrey, however, is not. He

forgot to do the order last night."

Groaning, Clark squeezed by Heather to head toward the

kitchen. "I have got to fire that kid."

"You say that every week," Heather reminded Clark

sweetly.

"I mean it every week. It's my damned bar. Why do I have

to do all the work?"

Heather made some suitably sarcastic comment, but Clark

was already in the kitchen. He nodded at the cook, Ken, who
stood at the back door of Glow smoking like an inmate on
death row.

"You see the new blue?" Ken asked.

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

"She makes it look good," Clark replied.
Ken snorted and dragged on his cigarette.
Clark walked into his office to sit at his desk. The chair

creaked as he pulled up the inventory system and put in the
standard weekly order. It took ten minutes, and the system
sent the request to various supply houses automatically.

God bless technology.
Clark had just pulled up e-mail when a lithe, panting figure

appeared in the doorway. The boy had stylishly shaggy black
hair, was dressed in a t-shirt and skinny jeans, and leaned
dramatically against the metal frame, one hand fluttering at
his neck.

"Oh God. I did it again."
"Yep," Clark replied.
"I'm so sorry."
"Yep." Clark said again.
"Am I fired?"
"Uh-huh."
"For real fired or just, like, the 'You're kinda pissed but

forgive me 'cause I have a really good excuse, and I'll share
the details if you let me work' fired?" Jeffrey bit his lip, and he
braced his shoulder on the doorframe.

"Is this excuse tall?" Clark asked.
"Oh yeah," Jeffrey replied, hips rolling forward.
"Dark hair?"
"Mm-hmm. Blue eyes, barely legal, barely dressed—hell,

barely spoke English."

Clark sighed and swiveled a level gaze to Jeffrey, who was,

Clark knew, a good kid in need of a steady environment and

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

steadier income to support himself and his mother. Jeffrey
hesitantly smiled.

"You stay 'til close every night you work this week, obey

Heather without whining, and I expect a drawing of Mr. Tall,
Dark, and Non-Multi-Lingual on my desk before close."

"Done deal, boss," Jeffrey said, fidgeting. The boy never

stayed still, which was amazing, considering he could paint
and draw like no one Clark'd ever seen, and that required
quite a bit of focus, Clark knew.

"And thanks," Jeffrey added softly.
"Everything okay?" Clark asked.
Jeffrey shrugged and crossed his arms, head down.

"Mom's out of the seventy-two-hour observation and back
home. Taking her meds again like she should, and she tells
me she's not going to see Nate The Drunk-Ass Boyfriend
Number 431 ever again, but we've all heard that before." He
wiped his nose on his sleeve, and Clark's heart ached for the
innocence in the gesture. "What can I say? Schizophrenic
parents for the loss, man."

Clark nodded, familiar with Jeffrey's dance of denial,

belittlement, and escape. "Do what you need to do. Don't
worry about the order."

Jeffrey's entire body relaxed with those words, and he was

about to say something when Clark heard the swinging door
into the bar hit the kitchen wall with a bang.

"Jeffrey!" Heather caterwauled. "Get out here and get the

soda machines ready or I'll fire you!"

"Goddamn, woman," Jeffrey called back. "Calm down and

get the leather out of your blue-haired ass!"

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

"Jeffrey!"
"Children!" Clark bellowed, several decibel levels louder

than both of them and roughly six times more commanding.

Jeffrey scampered out front, Clark heard more playful

banter between the two kids, and Ken remained stoically
silent while removing fresh rolls from the kitchen ovens. The
bar would open to the Wednesday evening crowd in fifteen
minutes, and Clark knew he could rely on Heather to manage
that. At the moment, Heather seemed to be making a career
out of Glow, which was fantastic in that it eliminated a lot of
the busy work for Clark, but worrying in that Clark thought
she deserved better in life.

Stretching out long, denim-clad legs, Clark reached up and

heard his back pop. He sighed, thinking that he was tired and
cranky and had no right to be. The bar was doing great, the
kids were coping with their lives, and Ken's bread smelled
amazing as usual. Clark had weekend plans over at a good
friend's house, and he had even remembered to pay his
damned cell phone bill on time.

Nothing was wrong, but nothing was particularly right,

either. Clark rubbed at one arm beneath the short sleeve of
his sky blue t-shirt.

Huh, need to get laid.
Clark thought that was an easy goal. At thirty-two, Clark

remained in special-forces-standard condition. Actually, he
was probably healthier overall now; he cared more about
what he ate these days. His thick shock of gray hair stuck out
in odd directions, but at least it looked like Clark did that on
purpose now that he shelled out obscene amounts of money

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

for some critical man to cut his hair. The same man looked
appalled at the thought of dyeing it, telling Clark it was a
nice, even color and made him look distinguished.

Which was another way of saying the hair made him look

less boyish, but Clark didn't really mind the boyish or the
distinguished; neither seemed to slow down the parade
through his bedroom.

A parade that came complete with a random contortionist

or two, Clark mused to himself.

Top the appearance off with a set of scars and a pair of

mismatched eyes—one blue, one brown—and he got more
than a few intrigued looks from men and women alike. Clark
didn't really think getting laid tonight or any other night (or
afternoon, or morning) would be a problem.

It was good to have constants in one's life.
Grinning and feeling better now that the night seemed

more of a hunt and less of a drudgery, Clark got up and made
his way out front. Jeffrey was helping Ken in the kitchen, and
Heather waited on customers. People were already sitting at
the tall tables near the front entrance. Outside it was a clear,
spring night, and Clark watched Heather nod to a group of
college kids and lead them out to the patio. There was no live
music or DJ tonight, but Jeffrey would come out in a moment
and start up the sound system to provide bass-beat
background noise.

As yet, no one was sitting in Clark's realm of control, so he

took a moment to be thankful that this was his place, these
were his employees, and this was his crazy life turned
somehow stable. Serving drinks and interacting with patrons

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

always soothed Clark. He liked most people in the short term,
and he definitely liked hearing them talk when they thought
he wasn't listening. Clark enjoyed telling dirty jokes, flirting,
and dispensing wisdom as part and parcel to his life's second
career.

Whistling, Clark grabbed a towel from the designated shelf

and began to idly wipe at the wooden surface. In a matter of
moments, a couple approached the bar, holding hands.

"Linda, Frank," Clark greeted them and stopped polishing.

"What can I do you for?"

"The usual, Clark," Linda said, "but make Frank's a double.

We're leaving for our second honeymoon tomorrow!"

Clark laughed his rehearsed, happy laugh because such

mirth was expected. "Coming right up," he said with a wink
and the practiced, casual toss of a glass. Clark glanced
around the bar and set to work.

Two hours later, Clark shook his head when Frank raised

bushy brows and tilted his empty toward the bartender.
"Sorry, Frank, I'm cutting you off," Clark said. "Planes and
hangovers? Never fun."

"He's right, Frank. As usual," Linda said, with a smile at

Clark.

"Okay... fine... can we get some more of that bread and —

" Frank stopped speaking when Clark put a tall glass of water
in front of him.

"Coming right up," Clark said with a nod to Heather, who

waved to show she heard the order and disappeared into the
kitchen. Clark sighed, stepped away, and paused as

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

movement caught his eye. His considerable focus narrowed to
the newcomer making himself at home at the end of the bar.

Dark hair, (curly, on the long side, terrific mental images

of wrapping it around fingers), dusky skin tone, (some sort of
mixed heritage going on there), tall, nicely dressed, with an
armload of packages sporting the James insignia (gay, good
taste, not hurting for cash), and a slight crease of brow that
made Clark think the man was tired. Probably from shopping,
from the looks of things.

Clark quickly walked over and offered his most soothing,

in-charge-and-happy-you're-here smile. "Hi there," he said.
"You look like a man who needs a beer."

The brunet finished settling on the stool, looked up, and

gave Clark the once-over. Clark left his towel on the bar and
reached to shove his hands in his back pockets, letting his
chest expand, the snug t-shirt stretching. He saw the
newcomer lift an eyebrow and smile in return.

Oh yeah, Clark thought. This could go quite well, indeed.
"Do all bartenders read minds?" the brunet asked, and

Clark liked the timbre of his voice. "Yes," the man continued.
"I am. I do want a beer. Guinness if it's on nitrogen, anything
local, fresh and as hoppy as you can find, if not. And a menu,
too, please. Forgot to eat lunch, so I'm starving."

Clark didn't bat an eye, though something low in his gut

reacted to the smooth voice enumerating such specific wants
and needs.

And that smile might be lethal.

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

Clark nodded. "A natural inclination toward the psychic is

required in all bartenders, but I'm also just that good." He
chuckled to show he was teasing. Mostly.

"You need a Happy Daze. Bad name, but it's rich enough

that you feel like you're licking the inside of a barrel. In that
good way." Clark manifested a menu and slid it toward the
man. "And I recommend the Philly cheesesteak. Unless you
don't like meat." Clark smirked.

The man rolled his eyes. "I'll go with the recommendations

and see just how good you are."

Clark clucked his tongue and thought about how he'd

dearly love to demonstrate some things to this guy as a crash
course in good, better, and best.

"How long has this place been here?" the stranger asked,

leaning forward. "It's the first time I've been in, and now I'm
wondering why."

"It's been here for..." Clark paused, thinking as he put

away the menu. "Seven years. And obviously you've been
missing out. It's the best bar in the city." Clark grinned and
winked. "It would have to be. It's mine, after all. One sec."

Clark let that thought stew as he moved away to scribble a

note for the sandwich and slid it through the window into the
kitchen. Then Clark went to pour the Daze in a tall glass
without bothering to ask if that was the size the guy wanted.

Clark whistled a merry tune as he brought the beer over

and tossed down a coaster. He slid the glass to the man,
making sure he invaded personal space in the process.
"There. One Daze. One sandwich on the way. We'll get you
taken care of in no time at all."

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

Despite the furrow between dark brows, the newcomer

didn't lean back from Clark as he picked up the beer and took
a long swallow, seeming to savor it. "Good. I appreciate it."

"I'm Clark, by the way," the bartender said, offering his

hand. "Always good to see a new face in here." Clark studied
the man intently.

"I'm Daniel," said the brunet, firmly shaking the offered

hand. "I've heard a bit about you, Mr. Clark. Good to know
that your Glow is as comfortable as they say."

Clark's mind raced and sorted information at the speed of

intuition. "You can just call me 'Clark,' Daniel. All my friends
do, and I see my reputation precedes me. That's probably a
little unfortunate." Clark grinned, trying to cover the
unexpected bout of butterflies that filled his gut as he
pondered what the man might know of him. There was an
interesting list of possibilities, given all Clark managed and
did in life.

Heather appeared, and Clark knew without looking that the

girl moved to manage the other patrons. Yet another reason
he loved Heather; she got it when Clark needed to focus on a
particular customer. There were many reasons he did that:
lend an ear, offer some easy companionship, make somebody
feel at home.

Not to mention flirt, feel-out, and learn about intriguing

people. Like Daniel, for instance, who continued to return
Clark's look with a calm expression.

Daniel nodded. "Perhaps it is unfortunate."
Shit, thought Clark, keeping his expression friendly and

neutral.

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

"But you were right about the beer. Exactly what I needed

to get my mind off something else. Wedding this weekend.
I'm not looking forward to it at all. So talk to me and tell me
why a bar of all things?"

Clark gave Daniel an understanding look and turned to

twirl a finger at Heather. She nodded at the "check on the
order" signal, and Clark returned his focus to the man on the
other side of the counter.

"Why not a bar?" Clark asked with a soft laugh, as he

leaned down to bring their faces level. "Lets me use all my
psychic powers for the greater good."

"Better than using them for evil." Daniel gave a lazy smile.

"Hm... why not a bar? Drunks? Long hours? Constant social
interaction? Frantic schedules and low margins? Or are those
things you enjoy?"

Oh yeah. Clark liked this guy. Hot and smart was always a

rather lethal combination for Clark.

"Touche," Clark said, with a nod and a quick calculation

that he'd need to give some in order to ask for more. "In
truth, I think all those things are small irritations compared to
other things life can deal you. I like that it's mine, that it's a
place people enjoy going and staying awhile. I find that
standing on this side of the bar offers me insulation when I
need it and is a conduit to fascinating people when I don't."

"You're right; there are worse things life can deal you."
Clark hummed in agreement, making mental notes on the

way the man closed his eyes on old pain. "So, why the
wedding dread?"

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

"It's just family. A big, conservative family going all-out on

a traditional ceremony and me being... well... me. I'll do fine,
and it'll be fun, but I can't help the nerves beforehand."

Clark remembered his earlier funk and wondered if Daniel

was a reward for good behavior. There was a quiet,
understated depth in this man that made Clark want to dive
in without bothering to check the water's temperature.

"Nothing wrong with feeling what you need to feel," Clark

said lightly, though he strongly believed it. "And I hate
thinking about a world where someone like you isn't accepted
for who you are."

Daniel's eyes went wide, and Clark got lost in watching

Daniel's throat move, wondered how Daniel'd sound if Clark
kissed over the pulse he could barely see beneath the dusky
skin.

Heather came up to the pair and put a steaming plate of

sandwich and kettle chips on the bar near Clark. She didn't
say a word and didn't wait for a response. Daniel pulled the
plate near, picked up the sandwich, and took a bite. Clark
watched the man chew and swallow, and felt his cock twitch
at the happy, contented sigh that followed.

"Oh, that is good," Daniel said.
"I'll say," Clark said. "Ken—the cook—is great at what he

does. I like encouraging talent." He chuckled. "And enjoy
partaking, I have to admit."

Daniel made a low noise of agreement around his next

mouthful.

Not wanting to let the conversation lull, Clark leaned

toward Daniel, the smell of food in his nose. Clark opened his

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

mouth to speak, looking into a pair of eyes that were—wait.
Not brown. Clark stared hard before he could check himself.

Daniel's eyes were a deep, deep blue.
Clark's mouth watered, and he arched an eyebrow in

appreciation.

Daniel flashed a grin, but then narrowed his gaze. "How

did your eye..." His fingertips reached forward, brushing the
air above Clark's cheek. "What happened?"

Clark felt a pull at his navel at the almost-touch; a

delicious sensation that forced him to focus on breathing
while his brain and body did a hormonal surge in premature,
triumphant glee. But he put that nonsense into a box and
focused on the question. Clark had a range of answers to
explain his eyes, everything from the mythic to the bare-
bones truth. He didn't need to think about what he should say
to Daniel; the answer was on his tongue fast and easy.

"People used to call me Sergeant Clark, and while I

answered to that name, I was too close to an explosion. I still
wanted to serve, and the military thought that was a good
idea at the time. So I volunteered to be a test subject in a
new transplant procedure."

"Transplant?" Daniel asked, interest obviously piqued.

"That's not a glass eye, then?"

Clark shook his head. "Nope. It's a combination of biology

and bionic from what they told me."

"Really? And did you regain full sight function?" Daniel

traced a circular pattern around the eye without touching
Clark's skin.

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by H.J. Raine

"Not entirely," Clark answered, thinking Daniel adorable in

his fascination. "Too many glitches to be perfect, though my
superiors were happy enough with it. Ultimately, though, they
thought it was better for me to rejoin the civilians."

Daniel sat back and took another bite of his sandwich,

nodding. "Wounded in the line of duty. Thank you for your
service. That can't have been easy, speaking of acceptance of
oneself. Unless all the rumors are wrong."

Clark laughed, though it was slightly forced. No, learning

to live with parts of another human's eyeball was not the
easiest thing in the world. It was a constant reminder in every
mirror of what had happened and all the consequences.

Clark pushed back to stand by the bar instead of leaning

against it, and a thread of old anxiety swirled through him. He
blamed it on memories best left cold in the back corners of
his mind.

"Rumors, hm?" Clark said absently, trying to disengage

from his own thoughts. "Well, you can't always believe what
you hear."

"What, you're not
" Daniel asked, voice sharp. "Because I admit I do like

meat."

Clark blinked. Of course Clark was gay. The bartender

went still for a moment—a leftover from training that taught
him that moving when confused or startled could get one
killed. He replayed the conversation, forced the bullshit bits
about his eye and the past away from his thoughts, and
finally caught up to the rumor business.

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by H.J. Raine

Under normal circumstances, Clark thought he might be

more upset that somebody got him off his game—even for a
split second or two. But some weird additional heat was
mixing in with the desire to get this man alone in a dark room
and learn what his skin tasted like.

"Oh? Do you?" Clark said, as he leaned back in and

brushed his thumb over the back Daniel's right hand. "I've
acquired a taste for it myself."

"Have you, now?" Daniel asked. He caught the wandering

hand with his left and tried to turn it over. The lightness of
Clark's skin against the darkness of Daniel's hand fascinated
Clark, and want stirred in Clark's bloodstream and groin like
some grinning cat poised over a cornered mouse. Clark
hummed and pressed his thumb into Daniel's palm for a light
squeeze with a hint of very short nail. Clark relented and let
the other man move his hand.

"I guess I've had a taste for it ever since I remember,"

Daniel said. He spread Clark's fingers on the bar and traced
the life and health lines, as if divining things from Clark's
skin. "That is part of my trepidation over the wedding.
They've never physically beaten me up about it, just tried to
get me to date more girls."

Clark found it was harder than it had any right to be for

him to follow Daniel's words instead of the trails of fire
igniting on his skin. Mentally, he chastised himself for getting
so worked up. Then he chastised himself for chastising
himself over feeling something good.

Truly, it was one long game of punch-for-punch in Clark's

head sometimes.

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by H.J. Raine

"'More girls?'" Clark repeated, refusing to look away from

Daniel's face. He relaxed his arm and hand with effort.
"Implying there were girls to season your taste early on?"

"Mmhm," Daniel hummed, brushing his thumbnail against

the Mound of Mars under Clark's thumb. "Beauty is still
beauty, as are intelligence and courage. Though I admit that
my aunt was just beside herself when I was dating a girl who
was graduating summa cum laude."

"I'm sure," Clark agreed, grateful for the new information

to distract him from the urge to full-body flinch from the
casual touches. Calculating, he rolled his fingers and stroked
the underside of Daniel's wrist. "I'm sure they'll all be glad to
see you. Sounds like the kind of family that wants you to be
happy above all else." Touch, drag, press of fingertip, and
Clark's heart beat faster.

Daniel squeezed Clark's hand and released him. "I don't

know about happy, but they're always there when I need
them. That's a good thing."

Clark watched Daniel grab the beer and empty it with one

last, long pull. He shifted his weight from foot to foot,
struggling with an internal wrestling match that started when
Daniel let go of him. He instantly regretted the loss of contact
and chided himself for it. It wasn't sudden, so Clark didn't
think he'd offended. But something was off.

"Having that kind of support is rarely a bad thing," Clark

commented, trying to sort through the Daniel-flavored
consternation.

"Indeed," Daniel said, finishing the sandwich. The furrow

was back between Daniel's brows, and Clark shook his head,

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by H.J. Raine

bemused, before reaching to cover Daniel's entire hand with
his own.

Giving an affectionate squeeze, Clark leaned closer, playful

again. "You're thinking hard enough to make my head hurt."

Daniel blinked and then laughed, the smile reaching the

corners of his eyes. The effect took Clark's breath away.
ENDEXCERPT

"What an accurate way of putting it," Daniel said, as he

turned the hand under Clark's to clasp it and then let go.
"And I'm afraid that those thoughts lead me home. May I
please have my bill?"

"Of course," Clark said immediately, not so enamored of

the man that he forgot Daniel was a paying customer. "Be
right back."

Clark turned, and his face darkened into a frown. The guy

surely had a boyfriend or partner or some such. For crying
out loud, the man was smart, witty, and nothing short of
beautiful, though Clark would hesitate to tell Daniel that last.
Being involved was probably the reason for the gentle refusal.
Had to be. And despite the fact that Clark's bedpost had
enough notches to appear attacked by rabid beavers, he
didn't condone cheating.

But, damnit, something really bothered Clark about this

guy.

"Shit," Heather said, as she came out of the door just as

Clark tried to go in. "Sorry, Clark."

"S'okay," Clark said.
Heather looked hard at Clark and then glanced at Daniel.

"Don't tell me he turned you down?"

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"He needs his check, Heather." Clark's tone wasn't

unpleasant, but it was far from playful.

"Right away." Heather turned and went back into the

kitchen. Clark let his face relax into a neutral expression and
busied himself with clearing empty glasses, waiting for
Heather, and trying to decide if he was going to say anything
else to the confusing man. He didn't have long to mull it over
before Heather returned. "Check, sir," she said, handing him
a black folder.

Clark put on his best smile as he sauntered back to the

end of the bar. But when he looked at Daniel again, Clark's
attempts at rationalizing the rejection went out the window.

No, not a partner. Definitely not it. This wasn't a man who

did anything lightly. If there was someone permanent or even
semi-permanent, then the bit with the hand tracing would not
have happened.

Clark didn't always understand how his intuition worked.

He didn't get exactly what it was about someone that allowed
him to form an accurate set of insights with only a few
exchanged words or some body language. But Clark did
understand that the "how" didn't really matter. It worked, he
relied on it, and there was something strange about this guy.
Not "strange" as in closet serial killer, but Clark couldn't get a
steady read on Daniel. The second he thought he had it,
Daniel seemed to retreat away from Clark's senses.

It was maddening. Absolutely maddening.
Well then. Only one thing for it. If you don't know? Ask.

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"Here you go," Clark said, putting down the folder and

resting his hand on top of it. "It was nice to get to know you a
little, Daniel."

Daniel looked at the folder and then at Clark. "It was nice

to talk with you as well, Clark."

The bartender cocked a brow and snorted. "You... are

quite the enigma. And since I can't figure out what's going on
here, I'll just speak my piece and then leave you be." He
smiled the kind smile that showed off the dimple in his right
cheek. "I like you. I think you like me, and I think you're
tired. Wedding, work, shopping, I don't know, but..." Clark
shrugged.

"I have a nice cure for tired: wine, talking, and other

things if you want them. Nothing else if you don't. I'd be
happy if it was tonight, but you seem to have somewhere to
be. If that sounds at all appealing, I'd love your number. I
can promise you I will absolutely call." Clark's smile widened
as he waited for a reply, wondering why his heart was beating
so damned hard. Granted, this speech was a little more
honest than some he'd given, but still.

Daniel studied Clark's face, and Clark swallowed hard. For

some crazy reason, he wanted to apologize, though for what,
he wasn't entirely sure.

Daniel shook his head, and Clark's heart skipped a beat.

"I'm sure you would call, and I am flattered by your desire.
However, I'm not going to give you my number. I'm not one
to be wooed in that manner."

Reaching over and brushing his fingers against Clark's

hand, Daniel pulled the black folder from under the weight of

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by H.J. Raine

it. Clark let Daniel do it, feeling numb and confused. Daniel
glanced at the bill, pulled out his wallet, and put in plenty of
cash to cover with a good tip. "Thank you for the much-
needed meal."

Clark was familiar with the phenomenon of wanting things

he couldn't have, and here it was again: suitably painful,
sharp, tart, and—in this case—surprising. This man did want
Clark. He would put money on that.

The hell does he mean "wooed?" Yes, that's sort of the

point, but he makes it sound like a bad thing.

The shock lasted for a split second, and then the smile was

back. Clark nodded his head and grabbed for the discarded
towel. "Of course. Best bar food in the city." Clark winked and
played hard on the no harm, no foul line.

Daniel nodded, got off his stool, gathered his things, and

walked toward the door. Clark didn't watch Daniel leave;
instead, he kept his gaze down on his hand rubbing slow
circles with the towel. He went utterly still for three solid
breaths, and then he grabbed Daniel's dirty dishware and put
it in the sink beneath the bar. Clearing his mind was more
difficult than usual, but he helped himself by cheerfully
pouring another beer for a regular.

Heather came to help Clark manage the influx of patrons,

but she said nothing. Jeffrey worked the floor and refrained
from even making eye contact with Clark for the rest of the
night. Clark was grateful for understanding coworkers, and he
felt a prickle of pride in his ability to hire such people.
Unusual and occasionally troublesome, yes, they were, but
they also gave Clark space when they knew he needed it.

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by H.J. Raine

Clark didn't think they understood why he needed distance;
they probably thought it was something basic and simple.
Daniel had rejected him, Clark didn't get that often, and so he
was moody.

In reality, however, Clark's brain was sequencing the

entire evening like a computer mapping DNA. The rejection
was part of the puzzle, but not its point. Something about the
man gave Clark pause, and not many people did that. Daniel
was a mystery that Clark needed to solve, and he went
through the actions of the Good Bartender That Could while
he mulled everything over.

Glow shut down at one, and by half past the hour, Clark

was sitting in his office, legs on the desk and a pen in his
hand. Slowly he twirled the ballpoint over his fingers, clicking
it at the end of every rotation. He gazed at nothing as he
tried to figure out why he found Daniel so intriguing, why he
reacted so strongly to the man's rejection—

The words: he implied that this wasn't how he played. Not

the way to approach him. What the hell did I do wrong? Why
is it bothering me so much that I did, apparently, do
something wrong? This is not my first rodeo; better men have
turned me down. So why does this one make me —

"Boss?" Jeffrey's tentative voice said from the doorway,

pulling Clark out of his reverie.

"Mm?" Clark replied, and he made himself look away from

the wall. "You out of here, kid?"

"Yeah... but..." Jeffrey stepped over and put a piece of

plain white paper with frayed edges on Clark's desk. Smiling,
Clark studied the drawing. The man was truly beautiful.

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

Jeffrey had managed to capture the come-hither in his gaze
and the tilt of his pelvis along with the large eyes and
hesitant smile. It was a simple sketch—pencil and ink—and
Clark wanted to frame the thing.

"It's amazing," Clark said.
"You think so?" Jeffrey asked, barely containing the eager

need for praise in his voice.

"Absolutely." To prove the point, Clark rolled his chair to

the corkboard on his wall and tacked up the drawing.
"Something I wouldn't mind staring at after a hard day."

"A hard day with blue balls thanks to Professor Germain,

huh?"

Clark forced himself to turn at a normal speed to face

Jeffrey. "Professor Germain?" he asked mildly.

Jeffrey chuckled and rolled his eyes and hips. "Jesus... he

didn't even give you his name? Guy is seriously a hardass."

"I got 'Daniel,'" Clark supplied.
"And that means you got more than most." Jeffrey's

eyebrows went up and down in sympathy.

"You know him?" Clark picked up the pen and rubbed the

shaft with his thumb.

"Yup," Jeffrey said with a knowing nod. "He teaches

computer stuff at NAU. I had him a couple semesters ago for
a graphic design course." Jeffrey snorted. "It, like, had
nothing to do with design. Digital mapping of data and...
bleh." Jeffrey shuddered. "I barely made it out alive. Final
project was a bitch, man.

"But anyway, everybody wanted to take the class 'cause

Germain is this genius-type and hot as hell. I swear to God,

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by H.J. Raine

Germain's ass brings all the boys to the damned yard. Girls,
too. And nobody could peg him for anything: gay, straight,
bi... whatever, you know?" Jeffrey threw his arms up, and
Clark watched and listened, analyzing.

Jeffrey grinned. "Though after tonight, I think I know what

team he likes to do." He laughed. "But seriously, you were
totally the victim of the classic Germain Rejection. And he
was, like, kinda nice about it. He does this fantastic glacier
impression. And the going theory is he's some sort of spawn-
of-Satan sadist. The man is scary, boss, just... scary. I was
too chicken-shit even to talk to the guy when I needed help in
his class, so power to you." Jeffrey pointed both index fingers
at Clark and then gave him a mock salute.

"I see," Clark said.
"So, it's nothing against you is what I'm saying," Jeffrey

said. "We all know you're mad hot with skills, boss." The boy
grinned, and Clark smiled back, genuinely appreciative of the
attempt to make him feel better.

"Thanks, Jeffrey. And thanks for the drawing, too. Now get

out of here and get some sleep."

The younger man made a scoffing sound. "I think you

mean, 'get some real work done.' Still doing that oversized
canvas thing, and it's kicking my ass."

"Kick it back, Jeffrey, and I'll see you tomorrow."
"Sure thing." Jeffrey vanished, and Clark settled back in

his chair and laced his fingers behind his head.

Professor Daniel Germain. Does a great impression of an

iceberg and has something against being seduced. Or hit on.

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by H.J. Raine

Both? He seemed to like it just fine when he was tracing my
hand.

That thought nagged at Clark's brain, and just as he felt

close to figuring something out, Heather appeared with the
deposit for the night. She laid it on Clark's desk without a
word. Eying the drawing on the corkboard, she hummed, and
her lower lip and jaw jutted out in appreciation.

Clark sat still with his eyes half-closed and waited for it.
"You're doing that thing."
Smiling despite himself, Clark played along. "Thing?"
"You know the thing." Heather moved to stand in front of

the desk with her arms crossed and hip cocked.

"Enlighten me."
The girl snorted and tongued the silver bar through her

lower lip. "You get this look on your face right before you feed
me some line about needing time off and pull the, 'But
Heather you're so good at running the place by yourself'
bullshit."

"But Heather... you are so good at it." Clark looked at her

earnestly. The returned stare would make lions nervous.

"Fine," Heather said with a put-upon sigh. "Run off to your

other glamorous job and leave me all alone with Jeffrey." She
spoke the name like it was a rare and extremely offensive
type of fungus.

"You like the kid," Clark told her. "And the only glamour to

any of my jobs is you, my love."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Heather waved one hand and headed

for the door. Then paused. "And don't you mean that the only
glamour to your job is Lucian?"

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by H.J. Raine

"Heather," Clark said in warning.
"Sorry," the girl apologized, ducking her head with her

back to Clark. "I just wish you'd, like... really trust me. Not
just pretend-trust me."

"Heather," Clark said, sitting up in the creaking chair. "I do

trust you. You know more than most people not directly
involved about what I do. But you don't need to know any
more."

Heather turned around. "Yeah?" she said. "You're not just

saying that so I get out of here and you do... whatever it is
you do here after hours by yourself?" A bit of playful banter
crept back into her voice, and her eyes sparkled. Clark caught
himself wondering if she was Daniel's type.

"I mean it," Clark replied. "I trust you with my bar—my

livelihood—while I go do my business with Lucian. That's a
lot, Heather." Clark studied her, forearms on his thighs.

"...'Kay." Heather blew out a breath. "Still doesn't make it

easier to manage Jeffrey."

"Make Ken do it." Clark grinned.
Heather laughed. "You just enjoy torturing that poor man."
"More than you know." Clark winked.
"Fine, fine. 'Night, boss. Let me know the deal on hours,

okay?"

"Of course. Much appreciated as always."
Heather nodded and backed away before turning to leave.

Clark breathed a sigh of relief that she was gone without
pressing any harder. He was grateful that she was smart
enough to press in the first place. Heather didn't enjoy being

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by H.J. Raine

out of the loop on anything, but she was also cautious. The
caution kept her working for Clark.

Well. That and the quick wit and efficient work ethic.
Standing up, Clark grabbed the deposit bag and clicked off

the light in the office. He created a mental list of phone calls
to make tomorrow, and he felt guilty that Heather was only
partially right. Clark was getting ready to do work involving
his side career—just not for Lucian. No. This bit of fun and
games was all personal.

Mr. Germain? I want to know what makes you tick. And I

meant it when I said I'm just that good. At a lot of things.

Whistling, Clark locked up the bar and headed to his car.

Deposit, home, nightcap, and sleep, perchance to dream of
one blue-eyed mystery.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

Chapter 2

A spring breeze whirled old leaves in the office park

courtyards facing the street. The moon waxed gibbous in the
night sky. Tired businessmen made their way home, and
couples and tourists wandered the city for a quiet evening.
Daniel Germain strode the few blocks to the subway station,
down the tunnels, through the tolls, and onto an empty
platform. Minutes later, he caught the train out to the
university.

Daniel slid into the well-lit car and found a seat. He piled

his bags next to him and slumped, putting his aching head in
his hands.

Thoughts of solid muscle under tight blue cotton,

mismatched eyes, and quicksilver humor filled his head more
than he liked. He ran through the conversation and couldn't
forget Clark's last look of shock and disappointment. Still,
given what Daniel knew about Clark, the entire encounter
must have been nothing more than a come-on to warm a
lonely night.

Daniel didn't need a one-night stand. His family and

friends thought that the "computer job" explained his
finances. He'd never corrected them or told them about his
professional domination services, but he wasn't able to hide
it, either. Back in his post-doc days, he'd needed to advertise,
and word of mouth worked for finding people he could trust.
He avoided public venues and built his own dungeon, since
most of his clientele wanted their privacy, but a few went on

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

to Club Break. They were the ones who'd told Daniel about
Maxwell Clark, one of the four owners.

Clark was someone everyone liked. He dabbled in the toys,

rooms, and delights of the Scene; however, "dabbled" was
the key word. Now Daniel understood why Clark was so well
liked. He was intensely personable, funny, and got under
people's defenses. Daniel could imagine that playful force of
will crumbling most resistances. But something Daniel's
sources had added now made sense: Clark always kept his
distance, and he never, ever played the sub.

Daniel knew himself well enough to know that he couldn't

submit. He'd tried it, in order to learn how it felt, how it
worked, what was needed to overwhelm another human
being. As a traditional method for learning how to master
others, it worked.

However, his master, at the end of their summer contract,

shook his head and said, "You're always thinking. You're not
deliberately scheming on how to get out of it; you're just two
feet behind glass, watching, weighing everything. You can't
let go, can you?"

Daniel shook his head, feeling like he'd failed.
"When you were racked, clamped, filled, gagged, and

hooded, what were you thinking about?"

Looking into his master's eyes, Daniel said honestly, "How

I could do it better."

His master's laughter made Daniel blush, but the next

words stuck in his memory. "That's what I used to think
about, boy. You'll do fine."

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by H.J. Raine

Playing on his strengths, Daniel did well. His schedule was

full, and he managed to pay off his graduate school loans. He
could now send three of his adopted siblings' kids through
college. He enjoyed shopping at James, his little blue Tesla,
and dressing the part when he entertained his clients.

Lights flickered by as the train sped through the city, and

Daniel watched them as he worked over what he knew. There
were reasons why he'd walked away from Clark's advances.
He had no desire for someone who couldn't meet his long-
term needs. He'd scheduled a client for Sunday night, who
would meet his immediate needs without the uncomfortable
feeling of being treated like a beautiful woman seduced by a
big strong man.

Grinning sardonically to himself, Daniel shook his head.

That direct invitation at the end felt so typical of the love-
them-and-leave-them type, so why did it still nag at him? He
should write it all off as Clark just wanting to get laid, but
something bothered him. That look after Daniel explained his
discomfort with the wedding stuck in his head, when Clark's
tone rang true. What did he say?

"I hate thinking about a world where someone like you

isn't accepted for who you are."

Daniel bit his lower lip. That was no line, or else it wouldn't

have been said so lightly. No play, as it would have bought
Clark nothing.

For someone who saw into the depths of others so readily,

it felt odd to be seen.

Daniel sighed and heard the call for his station. Forgetting

Clark was going to be harder than he'd hoped. As the train

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by H.J. Raine

pulled in, he resolved to finish the last of the paperwork for
the grant application. The facts and figures would crowd
everything else out, and a sea of data might rock him to
sleep.

* * * *

The room smelled of leather, steel, and sweat. The naked

man strapped to the bondage table groaned in
accompaniment to the creak of leather cuffs on ankles and
wrists as he pulled with all his might against the steel anchors
at the corners.

It all held, and when Peter stopped fighting, Daniel could

see muscles trembling. For an instant, he saw Clark's broad
shoulders gleaming with sweat and shivering for him. Daniel
shuddered and forced his mind to focus on his paying client.

Peter's hard on leaked enough pre-come to leave a puddle

on his stomach, and it bobbed, swollen over the cock ring
wrapped about balls and cock. Daniel had put the ring on
during the second dildo fuck, and he didn't want to keep it on
Peter much longer. Fitted or not, Daniel worried about blood
flow.

Peter was close to where he needed to be.
Daniel chuckled and saw the hooded head turn toward his

voice. He reached out, spread his palm, and stroked along
Peter's jaw to tug at the thick collar around Peter's neck. His
long-time friend and client sighed and leaned into the touch.
When Daniel flicked at the nipple weights, Peter flinched and
cried out through the open gag, gripping a ball in a white-
knuckled fist.

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by H.J. Raine

Moving to the end of the table, Daniel slid one hand under

Peter's head, supporting it as he dropped the neck rest. Then
he slowly let Peter's head down to dangle. He couldn't do this
long without risking injury, but he would be quick.

Most professional dominants did not do sex, something

Daniel had found out years into his "practice." He'd needed
money when he started, and knew that he could get better
prices if he offered sexual release along with bondage and
dominance. Daniel found it easier to continue meeting his
clients' expectations, but recently he only wanted to fulfill that
portion of his work with certain clients. Peter made it easy.

Daniel freed his own stiffening cock from his leather pants,

covered himself in a plain, dry condom, and fed the tip
through the open gag. Peter's tongue stroked Daniel, and he
whispered, "Good boy, take it..." nudging and pushing at
Peter's tongue until it moved out of the way. That was when
Daniel flipped the on switch of the vibrator in the butt plug
stuffed up Peter's ass.

Peter bucked, and Daniel shoved his cock down Peter's

throat. Daniel felt him gag once and then twice, so Daniel
pulled out, to a whine and a babble of unintelligible noises.

"You want it again, Peter?" Daniel asked, eying the ball still

in Peter's grasp. The dangling head nodded, even as Peter's
hips rolled. Daniel fed his cock back into Peter's forced-open
mouth. Daniel sighed at the wet warmth and stroked slowly
and shallowly. When Peter's throat opened, he was able to
push all the way in, and he held himself within Peter's throat.

Daniel's legs shuddered as Peter writhed around the

invasion that stopped his breathing, and Daniel undid the

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by H.J. Raine

cock ring. Peter's tongue lashed against Daniel's cock, and his
balls drew up. He silently counted to ten as the sounds Peter
was making and the bobbing of Peter's head brought him
closer and closer to his own climax. On ten, he withdrew to a
whooping gasp from the bound man.

When Daniel forced his stiff cock back into Peter's mouth,

Peter came, bucking against tight restraints. The combination
of breath control and vibrating butt plug against prostate
never failed.

Tufts of Peter's blond hair escaping from the hood looked

gray for an instant, the same paleness as a disk of plain
silver. The fantasy image made Daniel lose control, and he
came before he collapsed, shuddering against the bound
body. Peter suckled at Daniel while he panted, cheek pressed
against Peter's chest.

Turning off the vibrator even before he could stand up

again, Daniel chuckled when Peter's ball bounced on the floor.
He stood on shaky legs so that he could lift Peter's head and
replace the support. Unbuckling the gag and hood, Daniel
tossed them into the To Be Cleaned box. The condom went
into the incinerator trash.

Peter's powder-blue eyes blinked at him, and he smiled up

at Daniel. Daniel leaned to kiss Peter's chapped lip. The man's
mouth was dry, but he moaned softly into the kiss. "Good?"

Peter nodded, eyes still hazy. "Very good, Sir."
"Then we're done for now, boy. I'm off duty," Daniel said,

and saw Peter sigh. The words marked the end of their play
and the end of their relationship as dom and sub for the
night.

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by H.J. Raine

Daniel zipped up and went through the rest of the work,

unbuckling and unlocking Peter's bonds. The butt plug drew a
wince from Peter when he pulled it out and threw it into the
cleanup box. Daniel got warm, wet cloths and washed them
both down.

Peter whimpered when he sat up on the table. "I'm gonna

be sore for a week."

"So it's going to last you until our next session?" Daniel

asked with a grin, as he grabbed a bottle of water, twisting
off the cap.

Peter hit him on the shoulder. "Right. That's it. Well,

actually, I have a date next weekend at Break, so it should
last just fine."

"You like those public stages, hm?" Daniel asked, curious,

as he handed the bottle over. Peter took a drink with a
grateful sigh, and Daniel considered his client. Peter was an
engineer, so the BDSM lifestyle didn't inhibit his career. If
anything, technical companies paid more for people who lived
outside the box.

Peter nodded and then shivered. So Daniel climbed onto

the table to pull Peter into his lap and felt the man melt
against him. Daniel gathered him close, and Peter nuzzled
against Daniel's throat. This was part of Peter's coming down,
and Daniel didn't begrudge him the contact or the time.

When Peter's fingertips started tracing the koi tattooed

along Daniel's left side, Daniel kissed blond hair, squeezed,
and gently started to free himself. Peter sighed, but he let go
so Daniel could dress him. He stood up slowly while Daniel
hovered to make sure he wouldn't fall.

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"I'm... I'm good, Daniel. Here's your check." Peter pulled a

folded piece of paper from his wallet and finished the last of
his water.

"Thanks, Peter." Daniel took it and didn't even look at it

before tucking it away. "I appreciate the business."

"I appreciate your skills," Peter said with a sigh and a

groan, as he shrugged on his jacket. "Same time next
month?"

"Sure. After next month I'm out for summer break, just so

you remember."

"You lucky dog," Peter said without rancor. "Three months

off every year."

"Three months without a paycheck every year," Daniel said

wryly. "But I do like the time off."

"Who wouldn't? So you're traveling this year?"
Daniel shook his head. "I haven't got any plans, yet. We'll

have to see how it goes."

"Well, if you're around, tell me. I can line up people for

you. There's a new couple that wants to learn a few basics."

"Sure. If things open up for the summer, I'll see what I

can do."

Peter grinned. "Always busy, aren't you?"
Stepping in close to Daniel, Peter hugged him. Daniel

caressed Peter's chin, tipped it, and kissed Peter
languorously. When he felt Peter sigh, Daniel smiled in
delight.

Peter chuckled. "Someday you're going to fall in love, and

then what will we do? He'd have to share you with everyone."

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by H.J. Raine

"That won't be soon, and I'm already a little in love with all

of you," Daniel said with a shake of his head, trying to
dislodge the sudden image of Clark's smile. "Nothing to worry
about."

Peter hugged Daniel again and got out his keys. "Okay, I'll

stop worrying, then."

Daniel saw Peter off, picked up, and locked down his

dungeon. He hefted the box of equipment that needed
cleaning and left, content in a job well done.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

Chapter 3

Clark flipped a page in his book without bothering to read

any of the words and reached for the cup of tea that sat next
to him on the bench. It was some sort of fruity concoction put
together by a helpful barista at a coffee shop Clark had
visited on his way to New Amsterdam University. He thought
it would go with his "of course I belong on campus" image.
Clark didn't mind trying new vehicles to get his caffeine, but
the tea left an aftertaste that made Clark warily eye the cup.

Above Clark, the sky was clear, and the sun was warm on

his skin. He wore his favorite pair of cargo khakis,
Birkenstocks, and a t-shirt. Clark was aiming for the
"graduate assistant" look, and rather liked that the ensemble
emphasized his youth despite the gray hair, which was calmer
today thanks to Clark's efforts with hair gel. Appearing
harmless might mean that Germain wouldn't actually attempt
to run or throw a punch when he saw Clark and heard what
the bartender and information expert had to say.

Clark wasn't foolish enough to think that, in the week since

they last saw one another, Daniel would still be as fixated on
Clark as the bartender was on Daniel. It was sheer ego to
even hope for such a thing, and though it'd be nice to get a
smile of recognition, Clark assumed he would get confusion
and then possibly discomfort, once he made his proposal.

Right. More of the bad tea, then, Clark thought, as he

continued to wait outside the computer sciences building.

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by H.J. Raine

The day after Daniel's appearance in Clark's life, Clark

woke up with a large dose of determination. After texting
Heather to let her know he would be in at the usual time,
Clark climbed into the shower, whistling. Two hours later,
Clark used a disposable cell phone to make the calls that
would begin his search into Daniel Germain's background. It
had gone almost too well.

On the campus bench, Clark watched a group of girls walk

by and nodded when one of them smiled at him. Giggling
ensued, and Clark's lips turned in amusement at both the
girls and the thought that it was a bunch of kids that had led
him to this place in life: the place where Clark could own his
bar and was paid to indulge his curiosity.

It all started at Green Dojo, where Clark had taken martial

arts for most of his life. The owner let Clark teach, and two
kids came through the doors who would forever change
Clark's life: Lucian Gray and Chance Baar.

Lucian was scarily brilliant and the mayor's son. Chance

was likeable and the heir to his family's empire. Clark trained
them both for a short period of time, and he was surprised
that when he left for the military, Lucian and Chance seemed
genuinely sad to see him go.

After the bombing, Clark returned to New Amsterdam.

Both his parents were dead, and he sat on an inheritance that
burned a hole in his pocket for a year while he drank too
much whiskey in a cheap apartment on the bad side of town.
Staring down the neck of an empty bottle of Jack, Clark
decided to open Glow. He paid a small fortune for a piece of

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by H.J. Raine

property in the fashion district, thinking that if he was going
to gamble, he might as well go all in.

When Lucian and Chance heard the news that Clark was

back, they became regulars at the bar. They invited all their
friends, and soon Glow was the place to find city royalty and
tourists sharing a safe space. Lucian encouraged any rumor
that cast Clark as the deadly ex-special forces sergeant,
which Clark found hilarious and endearing. Tim Akkard, a
friend of Clark's who was also ex-military, became a
customer, too, and got along very well with New Amsterdam's
rising political stars.

About two years after Clark opened Glow, Lucian

approached Clark to ask for a favor. Lucian ran a piece of his
father's company, and Mayor Hendrick Gray was no fool. The
mayor recognized Lucian's talents and employed Lucian on
staff.

Lucian knew Clark's background, and so it was Clark to

whom he turned when Lucian needed information about a
certain politician. Intrigued, Clark said he'd try.

Trying led to a relationship with the gray-eyed mayor's

son, and Clark helped Lucian develop a network of spies,
informants, paid officials, and loyal attack dogs over the next
two years. Anything Lucian needed to know, Clark provided,
and he was well compensated for it.

About a year later, Clark got invited to dinner at Chance's

house. In attendance that night were Chance, Lucian, and
Tim, who now owned his own architectural firm much
encouraged to success by Lucian. That was the night Clark
learned of Lucian's tastes and interest in BDSM. And it

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by H.J. Raine

seemed that when his father discovered said tastes, he
brokered a deal: Lucian could do what and whom he wanted
so long as he managed a network that kept it all out of the
public's eye. Lucian accepted those terms, and Clark gained a
better understanding of what, exactly, working for Lucian
really entailed.

Upon surveying the city and finding no club or place to

play that suited Lucian's standards, he gathered up his most
trusted—and financially viable—friends and proposed one be
created. Tim was the architect Lucian tapped to build the
place. Chance was monetary backing to join Lucian's, and
Clark was to help with background checks and manage the
players.

Clark agreed to Lucian's new offer and learned that the

project was not one but two clubs: Bliss—a dance club that
would exist above ground—and Break, which was to be below
ground and members only. Clark ended up with a quarter
share in both endeavors, and the clubs were successful.

Clark also found a slice of the BDSM lifestyle for himself in

Break's underground hallways and rooms. It fed needs in
Clark that he carefully managed, and even though sometimes
those needs trod on other, darker things, he enjoyed his time
at Break. If nothing else, it let him see Lucian and Chance in
a whole lot of leather, and that was always a visual treat.

It was the simple things in life that made it worth living,

Clark often thought.

Around Clark, the wind picked up, and he closed his eyes,

book long discarded. With one arm resting on the bench's
back, legs crossed, and mind mulling over his life, he found

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by H.J. Raine

he could wait on Daniel all day if that's what it took. Sooner
or later, Daniel had to come out of the door that was in direct
line of sight from Clark's bench. The only other exits were out
a stairwell—also in Clark's view—and an emergency exit off
the back.

Clark knew Daniel would come out the front doors, just like

he knew Daniel had an office on the second floor and often
took lunch around this time on Thursdays. The process of
learning such things had initially caused him a pang of guilt
over using his—and Lucian's—resources for such personal
ends.

But it turned out that Clark's intuition had nudged him

toward a man who might prove an asset to Lucian. Clark felt
a flicker of nerves about telling Daniel about his side job and
what he knew of Daniel. But he'd tackled more difficult tasks
for both the military and for Lucian, and had managed to
come out on top. Besides, doing this meant Clark got to see
Daniel again, which was a nice bonus.

Fifteen minutes later, Clark shoved his book under one

arm when he saw Professor Germain walk out the front door.
Clark couldn't help but grin as he watched Daniel give Clark
the once over, turn to go, pause, and whip his head back
around in a vicious double-take. Clark grinned.

So he definitely remembers me.
Daniel's apparent shock inspired a wave of butterflies, and

Clark had to remind himself of all he knew about this man.
The least of it was that Daniel had already turned him down.
So there was no point in making this about anything but
business.

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

Picking up the half-empty container of tea, Clark ambled

toward Daniel, easy smile on his face. He tossed the cup into
a trash can and paused a few feet away from Daniel, one
hand slipping into his pocket.

"Hey there," Clark said.
"Hello," Daniel said, and chuckled. "I thought you were one

of the students there for a minute."

Clark grinned. "Oh, good. I was going for, 'Why yes, I'm a

professional student contemplating deep thoughts of
interpersonal biology while waiting on a bench.'" Clark
winked.

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Deep, hm?"
"Oh, very, sir. I assure you." Clark spluttered a laugh,

thankful that the playful flirting felt like familiar territory and
encouraged the butterflies into cocoons.

"Hm..." Daniel blew out a breath. "Are you taking classes

here, now?"

Clark shook his head. "No, actually. Was hoping to run into

you. You heading to lunch?"

"Yes, I am. You want to come along?" Daniel said, with

only a note or two of hesitation. "There's a whole row of
restaurants just off campus."

Clark felt a knot of tension relax between his shoulder

blades. First objective accomplished: Daniel hadn't turned
Clark away. "I'd be delighted. Thanks." He waved a hand,
indicating that Daniel should lead the way.

"Anything in particular you have a taste for? Ramen, pizza,

sushi, Greek?" Daniel started walking.

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by H.J. Raine

"Oh, I'm a fairly simple guy. Pizza sounds perfect." Clark

matched Daniel's stride, and he noted the tightening of
Daniel's mouth.

Thinking too much again.
"So, I see you survived the wedding," Clark said amiably.
"Mmhm. It was a close thing, though. Garter bounced off

me into cousin Sid's hands. For that I'm thankful, and he is,
too. He asked Marta out and was the hit of the party. I
shudder to think what would have happened if I'd caught it."

"No doubt," Clark said cheerfully. "Things aren't so exciting

on my end. Heather's been keeping me on my toes as usual.
She's the blue-haired girl at the bar?" Clark looked at Daniel,
but didn't give him time to respond.

"And I found out that my other employee—Jeffrey O'Dell?

He's one of your old students, Professor Germain." Clark
grinned. What he didn't say, however, was that he thanked
several gods that Jeffrey knew Daniel. Otherwise, Clark
wouldn't have such a smooth excuse to be here.

Clark knew he was too happy for the opportunity, and his

jaw flexed as he reminded himself he was here in an official
capacity. Because, in the end, it didn't matter that Daniel
smelled amazing—

What in the hell was that scent? Other than utterly

distracting?

—or that the memory of Daniel did poor justice to the

reality.

It would never work between us. You now know this to be

true. Stop it with the damned wishful thinking.

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

"Jeffrey O'Dell..." Daniel's shoulders relaxed. "Oh! Lots of

brains under that Irish charm. I wish he didn't keep expecting
his... assets to get him out of trouble when he messed up.
How is he doing?"

Clark breathed an inward sigh of relief. The second

objective had gone just as well as the first: Clark had
provided Daniel with an obvious methodology for how he'd
found Daniel. "He's doing well. Good kid, paints like a fiend. I
threaten to fire him at least once a week, but so far he's still
with me."

"An artist? Oh right, he took the graphics class," Daniel

said. "Good to know he's landed on his feet."

The two men came up to Orsino's. The sign read

"Neapolitan pizza" and showed a wood fire surrounded by
bricks. Daniel opened the door. "It's my favorite pizza joint.
The crust is amazing with the wood and brick oven."

Clark's mouth watered at the smell. "And suddenly I'm

starving." Clark grinned and walked inside, stomach rumbling.
He spied the massive slices behind the glass counter, saw the
ovens hard at work for the lunch crowd.

Thinking of his scheduled eight-mile run in the morning,

Clark ordered three slices of pizza that seemed to have most
of the contents of a standard refrigerator on top of them. He
accepted his plate, got a root beer to go with it, and fell into
the line to pay. Scanning the restaurant, he spotted a back
corner booth that would be perfect for conversations not
meant for the general public. Marking its location, Clark
handed over cash to a pretty brunette who had a very tired
smile.

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by H.J. Raine

Behind Clark in line, a kid tossed Daniel a cream soda,

which Daniel caught in one hand. "Usual, Prof?"

"Yes, please."
Clark held his tray, watched Daniel pay for the food, and

nodded to himself in satisfaction. As he made his way toward
the booth, a girl with her ear attached to a cell phone and her
brain on mute nearly ran into Clark. Reacting quickly, Clark
gracefully raised his tray of food above her head, spun to one
side, and continued toward the table. Muttering about
damned technology killing brain cells, Clark settled so he
faced the main entrance. He never sat with his back to the
primary door of a building.

"Here good?" Clark said, as Daniel approached.
Daniel eyed Clark and said, "Well, if you're as good at

watching my back as you are at dodging coeds, sure." He
settled into his chair and opened his cream soda before taking
a sip.

"Oh, it's a fair bet that you're safe with me," Clark said

absently, lifting his shirt perhaps a little higher than
necessary to provide a barrier between his hand and the
metal cap of the root beer. He missed his towels, and he
could hear Heather laughing at him.

Clark pulled at his drink and set the bottle down before

picking up a slice of pizza. He took a careful bite and moaned
with gusto. Daniel was right, the stuff was damned good. He
looked up to see Daniel enjoying the food, and Clark took
another swig of root beer after a few bites settled into the
gaping chasm his stomach claimed to be. It was time to
broach the next hurdle: somehow tell Daniel that Clark knew

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by H.J. Raine

about the side career in such a way that didn't creep Daniel
out or offend. And, Clark thought, he needed to be especially
cautious since Daniel obviously went to some lengths to keep
said side venture private. Clark swallowed and calculated.

"So, I have a couple of confessions to make," Clark said.
"You do?" Daniel raised one eyebrow.
"Yeah, 'fraid so." Clark managed to look shamefaced. "This

isn't entirely a social visit, though I am very happy to see you
again." He smiled, and even to him it felt entirely too hopeful.

Keep it together, Clark. Focus on the task, not on the way

his mouth moves when he eats.

Daniel took another bite of his pizza and watched Clark,

apparently content to listen. The nerves suddenly flooded
back, which surprised Clark. This wasn't life or death; hell, he
was here to help the guy. Clark kept his face and body
neutral as he mentally kicked himself for being so ridiculous.
Centered somewhat, Clark tilted his head to one side,
considering.

"Been thinking about you a lot. It's not very often I get

turned down." Clark laughed good-naturedly. "Though it does
happen. And you..." Clark paused, and he knew his face
probably betrayed more than it should. "You explained
yourself fairly well."

"And here," Daniel said lightly, "I thought I had been

suitably vague and indecipherable. Please do continue."

Clark chuckled. "Well, I'm told I'm more perceptive than

most." He winked, locked onto Daniel's deep blue eyes, and
thought of oceans and tides. Clark went very, very still as the

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

reason for his anxiety landed a sucker punch to his gut that
made him forget oxygen wasn't optional.

Oh. My. God.
When Clark had begun his research into Daniel, it had

been a lark, a way to kill the desire he had for a man who had
turned him down with such finality.

But as the research progressed and he discovered Daniel

might be interested in something Clark could offer, he grew
worried that what he'd done would make Daniel angry. The
professor kept to himself, so it was only logical that he might
have a problem with a bartender prying into his life.

When Clark decided to track Daniel down anyway, it felt

like a reasonable risk. He had faith in his ability to present the
information in a way that would hopefully make Daniel merely
uncomfortable at the worst.

But sitting here facing the object of his latest obsession,

Clark was stunned to realize the nerves ran deeper. Because
if Daniel got upset, then he would definitely not be interested
in Clark's offer. Which meant the chances of Clark seeing
Daniel again were much, much slimmer. Daniel didn't really
seem to have many friends, and he'd already rejected getting
to know Clark beyond the bar, sexual innuendo
notwithstanding.

I care if I make him mad because I want to see him again.

Badly.

Huh. Well. Holy fuck.
How had he missed this? How could he be so taken by this

guy and so utterly blind to his own motives? One didn't
usually get turned down for a date and then go seek that

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by H.J. Raine

person out to offer him a goddamned job without a good
reason. And Clark wanted to laugh at how he'd somehow
managed to rationalize that he did all this for Lucian.

Right. Pretty fucking flimsy, Clark.
And the crush made no sense. It would never work, and

Clark felt like an exposed teenager with a bad case of fucking
puppy love.

Get it together, damnit. Emotions cannot interfere with a

job, and you're neck-deep in your own trap. Push on, man.
Push on.

Quickly calculating that he'd only been lost in this

particular thought for a split second, Clark compartmentalized
and organized. He'd already talked to Lucian, and involving
others made escape a non-option. He found center, took a
deep breath through his nose, and the sound of the
restaurant came back to his ears.

"Mindreading again?" Daniel asked with an attentive gaze.

"All right... show me how good you are."

Clark reached for his drink, focusing on keeping the motion

smooth. He took a long sip and thought about the color blue.
It was a focal point, a way to still himself, given that part of
him was in utter shock and the other part was screaming like
a drill sergeant.

Wanting a man who only dominated his partners was not

allowed, but that wasn't as big an offense as getting
blindsided and emotional while on duty.

Not. Fucking. Allowed. Soldier.
Clark set the bottle down, and the eye that was not truly

Clark's began to ache. He ignored it.

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

"Sorry. I think I left the oven on." Clark shook his head.

"Anyway, as I was saying. You told me your reasoning, but
some of the things you said just wouldn't leave me alone.
So... I did one of the things I do best: research." Clark
shrugged.

You've made this a job. Do it and get out.
Clark leaned forward, remembering the hundreds of other

times he'd done errands for Lucian. And while this particular
assignment might be for the mayor's son only in name, Clark
would do it well.

"I didn't do it to hurt you or upset you. Believe me." Clark

refrained from wincing at the slight change in tone on those
last two words. That wasn't what he'd intended to say. At all,
actually.

He resisted the urge to gulp as Daniel's eyes narrowed a

fraction. Clark counted heartbeats until Daniel spoke, voice
surprisingly gentle. "What did you do?"

Clark's fingers flexed on the table, but that was the only

outward sign of his relief. He forced a megawatt smile, and
even though his eye pulsed painfully at the movement, he
didn't let himself show discomfort. "Well, I think I found a
way to possibly help you out. If you're interested, that is."

"Help me out?" Daniel repeated. "With what? My grants?"
"Not quite," Clark said softly. "Are you familiar with Bliss?

Cathedral club up on the ridge?"

"Yes. I am. It's a beautiful setting," Daniel said.
"It is," Clark agreed with a nod. "I own a piece of it. And

since you're somewhat familiar with me and Bliss, then
maybe you know something about Club Break?" Clark kept his

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by H.J. Raine

voice easygoing. His heart thudded, and he told himself he
needed to calm the hell down or else Daniel would get a very
wrong impression of this situation.

Daniel sat back, breathed in deeply, and blew it out in a

harsh blast. "You're not trying to blackmail me about my dom
business, are you? That doesn't fit." He paused, frowning.
"Because that's peanuts compared to what you make. So
what in the world are you hinting at?"

Shit, that's what he thinks?
"No," Clark said quickly. "Nothing like that, Daniel. God,

no." Clark reached into his pocket and withdrew a black card
with Clark's full name embossed on one side. A silver rose
was on the other. He slid the card across the table to Daniel
with one finger and let it go.

Daniel glanced down at the card and then back up at

Clark, who continued, "I'm sorry; I was concerned you'd be
angry when you found out I'd been digging around in your
life. It was accidental, but when I learned about your side
business, I went ahead and did my usual check. I do all the
background history for anyone who comes to Break."

Clark hesitated as images of old newspaper clippings with

headlines of death flashed in his mind's eye. He could hear
one of the private investigators he kept on retainer telling him
that Daniel was very good at what he did. None of his
clients—all subs, Clark recalled with a bitter taste in his
mouth—ever complained. No issues, no ripples, barely a
trace. Daniel dove into his job with a perfect ten dive.

"You check out," Clark finished mildly.

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

Daniel stared and then closed his eyes. Again, Clark waited

in limbo.

"You are good. I have to admit it," Daniel murmured. "I

know enough to understand what this represents, and to
know that such a free pass is rare, especially given the
membership fees. So, thank you for the opportunity." Daniel
opened his eyes, and Clark studied the professor as he
gathered his thoughts.

"I'm also glad you now know why I turned you down."

Daniel looked sharply at Clark. "This is unusual, you know?
Most men, when they're rejected, wouldn't hunt that person
down to offer them a sweet business deal. Why are you giving
me this, when all I gave you was a cold shoulder?"

Oh, it confuses the fuck out of me, too, believe me.
Pushing aside panic and the reflexive anger that came with

that emotion, Clark tried to find the words that would put
Daniel at ease so Clark wouldn't feel like an utter failure later.
Just mostly a failure, because his emotional bullshit had
nearly managed to ruin this entire damned conversation.

Clark shrugged and slid aside his mostly-uneaten food to

fix Daniel with a steady gaze. "I'm the kind of person who
needs to understand why things are the way they are. I
wanted to know more about you, and was going to leave it at
your class schedule or where you went to high school. But..."
Clark worried at the inside of his lower lip before he smiled, a
slight tilt of his mouth and nothing more.

"You're a good man, Daniel. A man who's overcome bad

things to carve out a place for yourself. I... know something
about that." Clark let himself rub at the temple next to the

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by H.J. Raine

brown eye that was working up into a full-on headache. Or
eye ache, however one wanted to look at that.

"I like encouraging talent. I think I may have told you that

before. And I think you could do well for yourself at Break. I
imagine you could drum up a few regulars. Between my good
word and Lucian's, you'd be set." Clark sat back and crossed
his arms. "It doesn't matter to me that you turned me down.
It doesn't negate who you are or how I perceive you."

Daniel seemed to absorb that, and Clark wanted to reach

over and touch Daniel to reassure him. The professor looked
shocked, sad, and hopeful in less than a breath. Clark kept
his hands to himself, however, and caged the longing behind
iron bars.

Reaching out with a fingertip, Daniel pulled the card so

that it was right in front of him. "I am honored. My schedule
is full now, but that always changes, and I would be lying if I
said I didn't want to see how Break works."

Clark was infinitely relieved that Daniel was okay with

this—and that relief twisted in Clark into something he hated
himself for feeling. He couldn't tolerate anything he saw as a
failure of self, and he thought that one of his weekend
whiskey binges might be in order. The need to punish and
escape pulled at him, a noose around his neck.

"You are very welcome," Clark said, and when he spoke

again, it was all business.

"Summer's coming up. If I were you, I'd make an

appearance at Break sooner rather than later. I've already
spoken to Lucian about you, and he looks forward to a
meeting. That card is an all-access pass into the club. Means

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by H.J. Raine

everything lines up: background, medical, you know the drill.
You'll need to show it to the guards at all points." Clark
paused to think. "You could get in on your own with it, but it
might go smoother if I escorted you the first time. Just
through the doors; after that, I won't interfere."

Daniel's expression looked fixed. "Sergeant Clark fits you

well. How soon can we go? I'm free this Friday night."

Clark's smile didn't reach his eyes. No one called him

Sergeant; it was usually met with a command to address him
as "Sir", if they must, or just "Clark", as he preferred. But
Clark didn't correct Daniel. The guy didn't know all that
bullshit and didn't need to. What did it matter? They probably
wouldn't be much more than casual acquaintances after this.

At least I'll get to see him at Break.
Clark made a mental note not to dig into interesting blue-

eyed men's pasts from now on. Apparently it only got him
aggravation and brought him that much closer to becoming
an alcoholic.

"I can do Friday," Clark said, grateful for the training that

allowed him to appear calm in any situation. "Nine work for
you? Get you in to do the meet and greet before the place
warms up for the night."

"That's fine," Daniel said. "Any particular dress code I

should know about?"

Clark rubbed at his temple. "Just about anything goes. If

you do anything crazy, make sure you can cover it up until
you're in the club. You'll see where to park when you get
there. Just go around the main building until you spot cars.
I'll meet you in the lot. Be easiest."

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by H.J. Raine

Daniel put the card away. "I'm looking forward to what

passes for crazy in there. I bet after Bliss and Break, Glow
seems far quieter."

"Everything's relative," Clark commented. Then he shifted

to one side and withdrew his wallet. He pulled out his own
business card with his personal information. "Here," Clark
said. "Should anything come up or you have questions..."

"Thank you. May I assume you have my phone numbers?"

Daniel asked, with a hint of irony.

"It's a safe assumption," Clark replied, smiling at Daniel

and trying not to think about the texture of his hair, how it
would feel if...

Clark sighed. Apparently being near Daniel was the

emotional equivalent of taking a nice stroll through a peaceful
meadow full of IEDs.

Daniel tilted his head. "It was good to see you again. I'm

rather impressed and flattered at the lengths you went to in
finding me." He pointed at the uneaten slices of pizza. "Are
you going to take those? I know my RAs would inhale them in
an instant; they make the phrase 'starving student' look
good."

"Nah," Clark said. "Not as hungry as I thought, I suppose."

He slid the plate toward Daniel. "Better they enjoy than it go
to waste."

"Are... are you all right, Clark? You seem..." Daniel

frowned. "Off, I guess. Was it something I did or said?"

Oh, way to make the guy blame himself for the fact that

you can't identify a stupid crush for what it is or hold it
together during a job. Smooth, Clark. Real smooth.

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"No," Clark said, with a shake of his head. "I think I was

more nervous about tracking you down than I thought." He
laughed to cover how honest those words were. "And my
eye." Clark gestured vaguely with one hand. "Get some
residual nerve and muscle pain occasionally." He smiled.
"Have meds, will cope."

"Ah," Daniel said, nodding once. "All right, then. I won't

keep you from them." Daniel got up and held out his hand.
"I'm glad you stopped by and look forward to Friday night."

Clark stood, spine going straight and tall on autopilot. He

shook Daniel's hand with a firm grip. "I'm sure it'll be
interesting. Let me know if you need anything. Otherwise, see
you in the parking lot of Bliss at nine on Friday." Clark
grabbed his drink and stepped away from the table with a
nod.

Daniel nodded back. "I'll see you then."
Clark gave Daniel a mock-salute and left. He needed to get

his head and ass straightened out before Friday. After that,
he could bury himself in a whiskey bottle to reminisce with
the ghosts of old friends. But not until he finished the Daniel
job.

Clark mentally added more miles to tomorrow morning's

run. Nothing like a little physical exhaustion and endorphins
to clear the head before sorting through the past.

Whistling a funeral march, Clark headed toward the bus

stop. He had every confidence that he had done the right
thing, that he could sort himself out and do his job, and that
this would be good for Daniel, Lucian, and the club.

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

Clark's baggage was the only issue. And he certainly knew

how to deal with that.

Practice does, indeed, make perfect.

* * * *

Eating his lunch, Daniel watched Clark's ramrod-straight

figure march away. The tension in Clark's body told Daniel
that the bartender was hiding something behind the all-
business attitude. Thoughtfully, Daniel chewed the last of his
pizza, tossed his dishes and the half-eaten piece Clark had
left, and went to the front counter with the untouched slices.

"Want a box for that, Prof?" Andrew asked, leaning against

the counter.

Looking up at the menu board, Daniel said, "Yes, please,

but I might as well have the box include a pizza as well. How
about a large Kitchen Sink?"

"Meeting?" Andrew laughed.
"You know my kids far too well," Daniel said, with a wry

grin.

"Sure thing, Prof. Hand over those slices. I'll heat 'em up

for you. Did the gray-haired guy not like his food?" Andrew
asked when Daniel handed over the plate.

"He seemed to, but then he started talking business. I

guess that put him off," Daniel said, Then he realized that he
didn't believe that at all. Daniel knew how to read people, and
Clark didn't have the look of a man who'd been there for
business. When Daniel had asked about the blackmail
possibilities, Clark had covered the panic in his eyes with the
smooth delivery of the pass into Break, but only barely.

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by H.J. Raine

The whole thing still didn't add up.
Daniel mulled everything over as he paid Michelle, took the

giant box, and walked back to the department building.
Balancing everything on one hand, Daniel reached for the
handle with the other, and was taken aback when the heavy
door swung open for him.

"Hey, Danny," said Bernard Wilson, looking very stolid in

his campus security uniform, as opposed to the rumpled suit
and tie he'd had on at the wedding. All of Daniel's police
family and step-family had been there. Bernard was an ex-
cop, and he, his wife, and his children were all good friends of
Daniel's uncle, aunt, and their kids. "Looked like you could
use some help there."

"Thanks, Mr. Wilson."
"No problem." Bernard touched his fingers to his cap and

entered the security office. Bulletproof glass allowed Bernard
to see into the main entry way, but the door was closer to the
entrance than the glass. People could get into the office
without ever going in front of the glass, and that made no
defensive sense to Daniel; however, every time he brought it
up at staff meetings, there simply weren't the funds to
change it.

Daniel continued up the double-wide stairs, flowing with all

the students going up to classes. At the top, he went right
and found Ashley, Derek, Laurie, and Anne outside his office.

When they spotted Daniel coming down the hall, dark-

haired Derek Wells whooped and jumped into the air with a
fist pump. "All right! Pizza! You got drinks?"

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"Nope. Go ahead and get some," Daniel said, and Derek

ran off. "Paul's not here yet?"

Everyone shook their heads.
"Let's use room two-nineteen," Daniel suggested.
Ashley Davis flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder,

opening the door and holding it for everyone as they all
trooped in. Daniel neatly maneuvered the huge box through
the narrow doorway and deposited it on the table. Derek
came flying in two minutes later with six cans of soda in his
large hands and a stack of paper plates from Daniel's office.
Derek loaded his own plate and dropped into one of the
chairs.

"What the hell's up, boss?" Anne Carter pulled a slice onto

her plate and took a bite, her teeth white against her dark
skin.

"Pop quiz results," Daniel said, opening a soda for himself.

"I'd like for you and Paul to give your input. I need more
minds to help me figure out what to do, but it's not required if
you need to get back to your thesis after lunch."

Anne and Paul were Daniel's research assistants, helping

out in the lab and doing advanced work of their own. The
others managed Daniel's classes as teaching assistants,
taking the burden of class paperwork and answering basic
questions. He couldn't do his job without them.

Anne laughed. "Ha. Like I could eat a slice, hear a fucking

problem, and leave without solving it."

Daniel grinned back. "I was hoping that would be the

case."

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The door opened and skinny Paul Roberts peeked in,

glasses flashing, nostrils widening.

"Don't let him catch you, too!" Anne said. "TA problems on

RA time!"

Paul paused, distaste clear on his face. "I'm no babysitter."
"Don't be such a prick," Derek said, his feet up on the

table. "It's the problem definition section. Prof needs our
help." Then his voice dropped. "You know you want it," he
teased.

Daniel watched, fascinated, as Paul looked anywhere but

at him and blushed.

"Right, yeah, pizza. Haven't had lunch yet." Paul trailed

off.

Ashley's eyes rolled. Then Paul grabbed some pizza,

obviously pretending that the food was what Derek was
talking about, and settled in a seat.

Daniel went to the white board and presented the results

of the last quiz from memory. His kids brainstormed ideas on
how to cover the material the students had missed, and an
hour later at his desk, Daniel wrote class instruction notes for
himself for the following week. He emailed handouts,
homework assignments, and a copy of next week's quiz to his
TAs. He sat back and sighed. It was only three, and he had no
more scheduled meetings or deadlines before Monday.

Frowning, Daniel considered the fact that tomorrow night,

Clark would be showing him around Break. It was very clear
from their conversation over lunch that Clark knew more
about him than he knew about Clark. Knowledge became

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power far too often, and Daniel felt he knew too little about
the inquisitive bartender.

Now he had the time and resources to fix that problem.

Daniel settled and started doing his kind of research into the
life and history of one Maxwell Clark.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

Chapter 4

A pleasant breeze blew through the trees and across the

parking lot next to Bliss. Clark shivered, goosebumps
breaking out on his arms as he leaned against his Jaguar. It
was fifteen minutes until nine. Clark wanted to arrive early to
make sure he beat Daniel, should the professor be the
chronically early type. Smirking, Clark suspected the man
would be here any moment, and he watched for Daniel's
Tesla. Knowing things like what Daniel drove helped him feel
like he still had the upper hand.

Or, at least, the keep-your-distance hand.
After the lunch fiasco, Clark had gone home and changed

for a trip to Green Dojo. On his way out the door, Clark spied
his calendar and froze. April thirtieth was right around the
corner. Normally he felt that date approaching like people felt
the beginnings of the flu: lethargic, cranky, and in need of a
dark sickroom for a few days.

Because of the Daniel distraction, the date had snuck up

on Clark this year, and that explained so damned much that
Clark nearly collapsed in relief.

April thirtieth was the date Clark lost an eye, his first

choice in career, and...

Him. You lost him that day, too.
In a strange mixture of calm, grateful, and numb, Clark

went to the dojo. He trained hard and came away with a mind
almost completely consumed with new aches, pains, and
bruises. Clark texted Heather to tell her he wouldn't be

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by H.J. Raine

coming into Glow, ate well, and went to bed early. He didn't
dream and woke up the next morning eight hours richer in
sleep. He warmed up, ran ten miles in the cool fog of
morning, and was pleasantly surprised when the first real
thought he had came to him in the shower.

You lost focus. Daniel, like you, is good at what he does.

And maybe he reminds you just a little of what you lost.
There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong at all.
Identify, strategize, and solve, Clark.

By the time Clark fumbled in his closet to get dressed to

meet Daniel at Break, he was mostly good with what had
happened at Orsino's, and with what Daniel called forth in
Clark's brain.

Professor Germain was a professional dom. He was

obviously intelligent, good at understanding people, intuitive,
and someone Clark had a hard time reading. All traits of a
man good with being on top.

Germain rejected Clark, he assumed, because Clark didn't

sub and rarely bottomed. Clark was as aware of his own
reputation as he was of others, and Daniel's words and
actions had confirmed that for Clark at the bar and at
Orsino's.

Since Daniel didn't sub or bottom, either, all hopes of

anything like a relationship had met a quiet death. Clark
regretted that—and in admitting the regret, he found some
relief.

It was okay to regret the fact that he couldn't be with

someone who was obviously a force of nature. And hot. Never

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by H.J. Raine

forget the hot. And brilliant. Ah, yes, that was nice, too. Kind,
perceptive, and those eyes.

After much chuckling at his hormonal self, Clark went on to

theorize that it was a combination of that regret and the fact
that Daniel was very good at inspiring the need to please that
left Clark feeling off his game. Add to that Clark's difficulty
reading Daniel and the date of April thirtieth, and hell, it was
a wonder Clark wasn't already seeking sweet oblivion with
two bottles of whiskey.

Understanding all that helped Clark organize his mind and

put memories back into their cages. Daniel was a job: a
friendly kind of job, to be sure, and Clark relished the idea
that he could help Daniel out by introducing him at Break.
That made him feel good—and there was nothing wrong or
unusual about that, either. He liked helping others whom he
respected. Daniel was certainly worthy of Clark's respect, and
there was nothing wrong with liking such a person. It made
the job easier, after all.

Clark would just need to guard himself better around

Daniel. He needed to nix this crush, and he needed to get
through tonight without burdening the guy with any more of
his emotional bullshit. Daniel already seemed worried about
Clark, and that was unacceptable.

Shifting to cross his arms as he leaned against his car,

Clark smiled as he recalled his image earlier tonight, standing
naked in his apartment in front of a full-length mirror. In one
hand, he'd held a wad of fabric headed toward the reject pile.
And when he caught sight of his reflection, Clark paused,
went still, and thought of beaches and tides. Closing his eyes,

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it was easy to recall the feeling of sand under his body as the
water came in. As a child, every trip to the beach found his
mother under an umbrella, his father absent, and Clark lying
just where the waves broke and buried his small, tanned
form. Inevitably some good Samaritan would drag Clark away
from the water, scolding and asking where in the world his
parents might be.

But before Clark got so rudely interrupted, he would lie on

his back with his eyes closed, feeling sun and salt warming
and chafing his skin. He loved the way the water moved over
him, found it fascinating and inevitable. Clark remembered
the way the water would cover his face, the odd peace that
came when he couldn't breathe for a moment.

Ten minutes later, Clark had opened his eyes and

continued to get dressed. He went for simple, as it suited his
mood. The velvet, blood-red vest had black buckles that criss-
crossed the back. The deep vee of the neckline stopped an
inch above his solar plexus, and the three black buttons on
the front were linked with small pieces of silver chain.

To go with the vest, Clark slid on a pair of snug black

pants. Black and silver buckles ran down both legs, stopping
mid-calf. They clung low enough on his hips that flashes of
skin stood out between vest and waistband when he walked.
Clark took a length of small-test chain and wrapped it twice
as a belt. He grabbed a pair of black combat boots and laced
them up his calves so they stopped just below the last buckle
on the pants. Over all of it, he threw on a lightweight duster.
Clark was never one for jewelry, but he did cinch on his wide-
band leather wristwatch that mimicked a manacle just enough

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to amuse him. Besides, cell phones weren't allowed in Break,
and the watch would serve its true purpose along with its
decorative one.

Clark threw together dinner, cleaned up the mess, and

then headed down to the garage he rented along with the
loft. The Jag offered a nice, lulling ride, and Clark kept the
windows down along the way. He breathed deeply and evenly
and felt like his usual self when he pulled around the stone-
and-stained-glass structure of Bliss to find a parking space
toward the very back. Two safety lights gleamed overhead,
and Clark opted to wait out in the cool air as opposed to
inside the car.

Being so early, the only other cars in the lot when Clark

arrived were Lucian's and a few other staff members' vehicles
that Clark recognized. While he waited, three other members
pulled up, one with a new boy in tow and the other two by
themselves. Clark nodded and waved at them all, enjoying
the appreciative gaze Tristan flashed at him. He looked
forward to seeing Tristan work over his choice of sub later in
the evening; it was always a good show.

The breeze rustled the trees nearby, and Clark calmly

watched and waited.

* * * *

Daniel stood in front of the mirror and tried to sooth

nerves that were making his stomach knot. He knew what
crazy could be in the world of kink. This was not even close.

A sleeveless, silk mesh shirt, shimmering with deep-water

blues, greens, and hints of silver, clung closely to his torso.

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All the practice he did with impact tools showed itself in the
lean lines of his upper body. Daniel wanted something other
than the basic black so many BDSM people wore, and the
mesh allowed the koi tattoo that wrapped about his left side
to glimmer like a ghost amid the waters.

Daniel paired the shirt with dark blue leather pants laced

at the top with diagonal straps that hugged his hips. Buckles
held on the front pockets and emulated chaps. The blue
wouldn't show in the low lighting, but after Clark's reaction to
his eyes, Daniel wondered what Clark would think. He looked
at his shoes and went with simple, steel-toed industrial boots.

"Shit. It's as if I'm dressing for a date, not a business

meeting," he said, glowering at himself in the mirror. He
thought about tossing it all and just wearing a pinstripe suit
with sapphire silks, but he also didn't want to appear a
complete fool.

"Fuck it," Daniel muttered, and broke out the eyeliner,

laying a deep blue line.

He sighed at himself and threw on a black leather duster,

remembering Clark's instructions about the walk. He left his
small professor's bungalow, slid into his Tesla, and pulled out
of the driveway.

The GPS told Daniel he'd be ten minutes early, but Bliss

was across town, and he wanted to account for traffic. Once
he was through town, a four-lane highway brought him out to
the mountains, and he found the turn-off for Bliss Road.

When he started up the deserted mountain road, Daniel let

caution fly and pushed the Tesla all out, delighting in the
handling and the constant torque of the electric engine. The

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road twisted and curved, right on the edge of a ridge, and
each W-turn of the road brought a new, spectacular view of
the city below. Daniel didn't let the nimble car slide for each
turn, but he knew he was close as the tires protested. He
loved the dance up the road, more for the precise control he
had of his vehicle than any adrenaline rush at the speed.

When a car showed up in front of him, Daniel stayed on its

tail until there was an empty hundred-yard straightaway.
Then he floored it, and it seemed as if the other car stood
still. Smiling, Daniel braked for the next turn and caught his
rhythm again. When the road turned, it led to a cathedral on
the mountain top. White stone lit by floodlights soared into
the sky.

When he reached the entrance to the Bliss parking lot,

Daniel slowed down. Glancing at the GPS, Daniel realized he
was still ten minutes early. He shrugged. Early was better
than late, and he could wait. Daniel remembered Clark's
directions and went around to the right. When he approached
what seemed to be impassable trees, he saw a connector
snaking down to another, lower lot. That was when Daniel
saw the black Jaguar with a man leaning against it. Daniel
pulled past the low-slung car and smoothly backed the Tesla
into the space to the left of the Jag.

Daniel turned off the car with a press of a button, pulled

the electronic card key and tucked it into his wallet.
Excitement, nerves, and anticipation surged, and he balanced
on top with practiced ease. This was no different from any
first impression with a client; he just wasn't going to do

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anything to anyone. He got out and looked over to see that it
was, indeed, Clark.

"I'm not late, am I?" Daniel asked.
Clark's eyes lingered on Daniel just enough to raise

Daniel's hopes.

"Nope," Clark said with a shake of his head, pushing away

from his car and heading toward the sidewalk. He looked over
his shoulder at Daniel. "I figured you'd be early, so I thought
I'd schedule appropriately."

"It was accidental," Daniel said ruefully. "I didn't mean to

be early, but that ridge road is spectacular."

Daniel admired Clark's easy swing of step and posture far

too much. Gray and white hair gleamed in the low light from
either side of the path, and Daniel wondered what it would
feel like to run his hands through it.

Stop it, damnit. For having so much pride in your self-

control, you'd better get some back.

Daniel hurried so that he was beside Clark, and he tried to

see through the trees. "About how far is it?"

"Not far, really," Clark said. "Just wanted the entrance to

be far enough away from the lot that people think it's a utility
building. So Tim tells me."

A squat, stone structure came into view ahead. Two lights

were attached to the wall, and no door was visible from the
path.

"There we are," Clark said, nodding.
"That's the way in?" Daniel asked curiously, and walked up

to the wall.

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Clark laughed and surprised Daniel by grabbing his arm.

"Other side, Professor," he said gently. Daniel tensed and
cursed in his head as, hand still on Daniel's arm, Clark led
them around to the other side of the building.

Two mammoth men in black suits, shirts, and ties stood

guarding a set of doors. Beyond was a small room lit with an
industrial chandelier that hung over a set of stairs leading
down into the earth.

"Master Clark," said one of the guards. Daniel was

surprised to see both men wearing sunglasses at night. "Good
to see you, Sir." The guard spoke without moving anything
but his mouth.

"Gentlemen," Clark said. "Good to see you're blocking

those dangerous moonlight rays and holding up this wall with
sheer force of willpower and intimidation."

The other suit chuckled. "Go on in, Sir. You, too, Master

Germain."

Nodding his thanks to the guard, Daniel forced himself

forward, still in Clark's grasp. He knew the other man meant
well, just as Clark had meant well with the terse list of
instructions and recommendations at lunch, but it was hard
going for Daniel; he was relieved when Clark finally let go.

"Be careful of the stairs," Clark said. "They're narrow, and

I damn near trip over my own feet if I'm not careful."

Daniel nodded as anger and adrenaline rushed through

him. It wasn't fair of him to take his own emotional turmoil
out on Clark. Daniel could only bring himself to say, "Thanks."

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by H.J. Raine

"It's why I'm here," Clark said calmly as his foot hit the

last stair, and they entered a long tunnel. Clark whistled as
they passed by piping and beneath overhead lighting.

"We call this the Gauntlet," Clark said, as they approached

double doors at the far end of the passageway. "It leads from
the Tomb to the club, itself."

"Is there another way into Break?" Daniel asked, pausing

with Clark.

"There's a door from the personnel offices upstairs in Bliss,

but that's for the staff or for event nights when everyone's
here by invitation. And you need one of these." Clark reached
for his pocket and removed what appeared to be a set of dog
tags. Inscribed on one was a bas-relief of a rose. On the other
was simply "Clark" etched in black, block letters.

"We all get specialized pass keys," Clark explained, waving

the tags in front of a sensor next to the door. It beeped, and
Clark stepped into the hallway beyond, turning to look at
Daniel. "You will, too, should you decide to become a
member."

"So they're made differently for each person, and the card

is just temporary?"

"You got it," Clark said with a friendly smile. He gestured

grandly at the hallways. "Welcome to the Catacombs. These
hallways surround Break, which is through there." Clark
pointed to another pair of catty-cornered, closed double
doors. Looking up, Clark gave a two-fingered salute to the
security camera before looking around.

"No subs chained to the basement walls. How

disappointing," Clark quipped, before he turned to the left.

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by H.J. Raine

"Come on. We'll go hit up the coat check. It's on the other
side near the Bliss entrance."

Daniel followed, glancing at the decor, curious as to what a

BDSM club looked like. Small tables stood against the wall.
Some had artwork on them, some had an ornate lamp or
antique. Paintings and graphic art hung here and there as
they wound their way around the Catacombs.

After turning a corner, another large set of closed double

doors loomed ahead of them. Daniel assumed that must be
the doorway leading upstairs to the staff offices. As the men
got closer, it was easy to hear the low thrum of music coming
from Break; the doors into the club itself were on their right
and open. A tall, androgynous individual, clothed from neck to
toe in what looked like priests' robes, stood speaking to one
of the staff members just outside the doorway into Break.
Daniel watched as Clark smiled at a man who was nude save
for a black G-string, and the man flashed back a grin and a
little wave. "Coat check," Clark said to Daniel, as they turned
the final corner. A counter spanned the width of the hallway,
and a pretty girl with long, black curls and a stylish suit
smiled at Clark and Daniel.

"Hi, sirs," she chirped. "I need your cell phones, IDs, and

signatures." She pushed a pad of paper toward Clark.

"Rose," Clark said, handing over his cell phone and ID.

"You look lovely as always."

"And you look suitably hot for a guy," Rose retorted.
"Have I told you that you'd make a great gay man lately?"

Clark asked, shrugging out of his duster and handing it over.

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Rose took it with a giggle, and Clark bent to sign both himself
and Daniel into Break.

"Not in the last week, Sir, no."
Daniel fished his cell phone from his coat pocket, handing

that to her before taking off his coat and laying it on the
counter. He then dug in his back pocket for his wallet.

"Which ID?" Daniel asked.
"Your license or other form of identification," Rose said,

smiling at Daniel as he handed it over. "I check it against my
List of Important Personages, you see."

Clark started to laugh, but cut off abruptly. Daniel looked

up and found Clark staring. A vest framed Clark's chest, the
pants revealing more of his sculpted musculature than they
hid. The gleam of chain wrapped about Clark's waist, the
buckles and straps, and the wide wrist cuff—no, watchband—
made Daniel want to howl in frustration.

Why in the world does everything he have on make me

just want to truss him and eat him?

Daniel gritted his teeth, smiled at the girl, and took back

his ID when she was done.

Clark turned to wink at Rose, amiable persona back in

place. "Might there be a certain gray-eyed demi-monarch
roaming about?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Oh yes. He's inside talking to

Garreth."

"Naturally," Clark said, as he pushed away from the

counter and kept his distance from Daniel. Clark's smile was
easy and the tilt of his head casual.

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"Let me introduce you to Lucian, if you don't mind," Clark

said. "Then you'll be rid of me for the evening."

"I'd be pleased to meet him." Daniel counted it a minor

victory that he could say it evenly. "And if you don't mind, I'd
like it if you gave me a tour of the place? I don't know where
I can go and where I shouldn't."

"No problem," Clark said immediately. "Any restricted area

will require a pass key. The private rooms, for example—we
call them the Crypts. They're all off the 'combs." Clark began
to walk toward the doors leading into Break. "Right this way,
sir," he said playfully.

Daniel let Clark take two steps before him so he could hide

his reaction to that 'sir,' and then followed Clark. The lights
were low in the club. Daniel saw several main play areas on
either side of a large runway. Each play area was marked off
by a different type of flooring, plastic or carpet. High tables
flanked the runway, and there was plenty of seating
everywhere.

Along the left wall was a lounge area with low chairs,

benches, and more equipment. The entire back wall was
padded, with silver rings set into it for easy use. The bar was
across the room from the Bliss entrance, and a DJ's booth sat
in the back left corner next to the bar. It was still early, so
the club wasn't terribly crowded, but people sat in the lounge
and two men occupied one play area on the far side of the
room.

"They're all stages," Daniel said softly, letting some of his

trepidation show. "So many people can watch at the same
time. Are there any rules of conduct for the audience?"

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Clark took a tiny step toward Daniel. "Standard rules

apply," Clark replied. "No touching unless invited, no
interfering with ongoing play unless given permission. To use
the equipment, generally one just needs to claim it. There's
plenty to go around. But if it's crowded, you can always check
with one of the hosts—over there?" Clark pointed at the man
in the priest-like robes. "They monitor the room, keep
equipment waiting lists if necessary, and can answer any
questions."

Clark paused to wave at someone and then cleared his

throat. "Basically, stick to always asking before you do
anything, and you'll be fine. Or wait until someone offers to
let you join in. Looking like you do? People will offer."

Daniel raised an eyebrow and then nodded. "That works

for me, that you have to ask first. And I already see a few
things I'd love to try out." He took a deep breath and let it go.
"Nearly all my work has been in private, so this is very new to
me. Thanks for enumerating the rules."

"Not a problem," Clark said. "I'm here to ease the way and

make sure you have a good time." Clark smiled, but it didn't
reach his eyes. Daniel was getting familiar with that look.

"So if you find you need a private room tonight, you can

use mine. As an owner, I have my own in the back of the
'combs." Clark shifted, scanning the room again, and Daniel
couldn't shake the feeling that Clark was hiding something.

"Thank you," Daniel replied, and mulled over Clark's offer.

"I don't really intend to get involved with anything tonight,
but I guess I'll have to see how things play out." He glanced
at the nearest area. "Are there themes to the stages?"

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Clark looked anywhere but at Daniel, and a faint frown

appeared between his eyebrows, mouth forming a familiar
expression of tension. "The main stage is for staff shows. The
play areas change from time to time, but I suppose you'd call
them 'themed,' yes. Stocks, spanking, tables, guest
performances." Clark shrugged. "Chance likes to switch things
up in the areas on whim, and Lucian lets him. Otherwise,
nothing would ever change. Lucian's fairly big on
consistency."

"You say that like it's a flaw in character, Clark," said a

voice from behind them that was as slick as river stone.
Daniel turned with Clark to watch a slender man approach.

"I would never hint that you had character to flaw,

Lucian," Clark quipped, a smile playing across his lips.

The corners of Lucian's mouth tilted upward, and he turned

his speculative gaze to Daniel. Lucian Gray was tall, lithe, and
made of angles and long lines. Tonight he wore a black velvet
shirt with boning that showed off slim shoulders and shapely
collar bones. The shirt stopped above his navel, exposing lean
muscle and pale skin. Black, skintight pants covered his lower
body, but they were draped in so much fine silver chain that
they got lost beneath the links, and Lucian's boots laced up
over his knees. Leather gauntlets covered Lucian's wrists and
forearms, and his waist-length brown hair was held away
from one ear by a diamond-studded clasp.

Stunning, thought Daniel. Lucian seemed to maximize the

femininity of his appearance, and it worked for him. Lucian
smiled and extended a hand to Daniel. "Lucian Gray," he said.

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Daniel took the hand, and there was something in Lucian's

eyes that made Daniel resist the temptation to bring the
knuckles to his lips. Instead, he shook it, matching grip for
grip, no stronger. "Daniel Germain," he replied. "I am very
impressed by your place."

Lucian's thin lips spread into a broader smile. He squeezed

Daniel's hand once before letting go. "So happy to hear it,"
Lucian replied, voice lazy, nearly sleepy.

"Clark has said many good things about you," Lucian

continued. He eyed Daniel with a fixed, long-lashed gaze.
"And it's easy to see why he likes you." Lucian's eyes flickered
to Clark, and he looked almost sympathetic before he made a
noise that was hard to identify as a low laugh.

Daniel glanced at a stoic Clark. What he saw there made

him hold his breath. Widened eyes, a slow blush, and stony
silence caused a cascade of thoughts and images to fall
through Daniel's mind.

Meeting Lucian felt just like meeting any other dom. Daniel

never responded to them. Even the most abrasive behavior
rolled off him like water off a duck. He turned politeness on
like a shield. He never, ever got angry at doms being doms.

Then why the hell do I get so angry with Clark?
Clark letting him turn his hand in the bar. Clark waiting for

him outside the building rather than coming in to find him.
Clark going from hungry and happy to tight and worried when
they'd talked about Daniel's private business. Clark's horrified
look when Daniel had asked about the possibility of blackmail.
Clark's shuttered gaze when Daniel called Clark "Sergeant".
Clark's small teases with sub-language. Clark's sudden

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by H.J. Raine

relaxation when Daniel made a specific request for a tour this
place. Clark's clothing choices for the club.

The effort Clark had gone to in tracking Daniel down was

extraordinary. Why he'd started was still a mystery to Daniel.
There was no way in hell Clark could have known about the
potential tie-in to Break until after he'd done a lot of work.
Daniel knew how hard it was to get information on his side
business. Clark would have found the death of Daniel's
parents, all his school and normal business records, and
probably even his medical, contact, and license information
first.

Just like the moment Daniel hit the curves on the

mountain road, everything suddenly went clear.

He wants me to dominate him, but he can't say it. He can't

say it consciously to himself, much less to me. He's saying it
in all the nonverbal ways I would have read if I weren't so
damned nervous about this place, or if he hadn't gotten me at
the university.

And I want to take him so badly, too. I'm responding to his

need, even when he denies it with every tease.

What the hell am I going to do?
Daniel let out his breath.
I'm going to do what I always do. Listen. Watch. See the

way in.

* * * *

Daniel gave Lucian a bow. "I'm glad it's easy for you to

see. Thank you."

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"You are very welcome," Lucian intoned, arms crossing.

"We'd be delighted if you became a member. Thanks to
Clark's sponsorship and enthusiastic research, I know you'd
fit in here. Thrive, if you chose."

Lucian seemed to consider, eyes flickering back to Clark,

who remained stonily quiet, trying to keep his mind blank.
Very blank. First-snowfall-in-the-meadows blank.

"Clark can fill you in on anything you wish to know, I'm

sure."

"He's been very helpful," Daniel said politely, taking a step

nearer Clark. "I still need to look more closely at what's
available, but with such support, it's easy to think of joining."

Lucian inclined his head. "Clark," he said with a sidelong

look as he stepped away to greet a pair just coming into the
room.

Feeling summarily released from Lucian's attention, Clark

conjured a smile. Butterflies and bats were having a nocturnal
party in Clark's guts, and this was going to be an early night.
He would get Daniel to Tristan, let the professor begin to
enjoy himself, and get the hell out of Dodge.

Clark saw an image of himself, as clearly as if he were

looking at one of Jeffrey's paintings: shirtless, sitting on the
floor of the loft, half-empty bottle on his right, and too many
bad memories filling the room.

"He's a prince, isn't he?" Clark asked mildly, nodding

toward to Lucian.

"A bit, but it serves him well," Daniel said. "Is it true that

you work for him?"

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Clark blinked and managed a smirk. "Ah-ha, so my

reputation really did precede me back at the bar." Clark
chuckled as he turned to survey the room instead of Daniel.

"Yes, it's true," Clark finally replied.
"Well, shall we continue the tour?" Daniel asked. "Now that

we've seen the prince of the realm, perhaps more of the
castle walls and battlements? Or, to be cliche, the dungeons?
I can just imagine him as one of those princes that would pick
the choice ones for the torture racks."

A laugh bubbled from Clark's lips; a pleasant surprise. "So

true. The pretty ones get chained to the walls in Lucian's
world." He shook his head, thinking of the little boy Lucian
who used to get so pissed when Clark pulled his hair.

"The tour. Right." Clark clapped his hands and then

flourished. "I thought I might introduce you to Tristan and
Adam." Clark pointed toward the back play area near the bar.
"Think you'd get along like leather and lace."

"Lead on. It'll be good to know more people here."
Clark made a quiet noise of acquiescence. "Tristan's a

good guy, and Adam's a trip." Clark began to walk across the
room, circling around the catwalk. He turned and locked eyes
with Garreth and nodded once at the redheaded DJ. The
music was still low enough that indoor voices worked for
conversation, for which Clark was grateful.

Daniel stepped up so that he was next to Clark. "A trip?

How so? And did you get to know them here?"

Clark shrugged. "Adam's a professional sub. He's just

playful is all." Clark kept his tone light and easy and
deliberately didn't answer the entire series of questions.

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Tristan saw them coming, looked up from Adam—who sat
cross-legged on a low, padded table with his wrists in cuffs—
and grinned at Clark.

"Just a second," Daniel said, one hand lightly brushing

Clark's arm. "I see one of my clients. I can ask his dom if I
can speak to him, can't I?"

Clark paused and carefully stepped away from Daniel's

touch as he spied the only dom and sub couple nearby. Clark
racked his brain for a moment and came up with the sub's
name—Peter—who was on a leash attached to Rhys Croft's
wrist. Peter was in harness, with his hands fastened to his
lower back, probably filled from how he was walking, but not
gagged.

A foul taste spilled into Clark's mouth as he eyed Rhys, but

he merely nodded at Daniel.

"Yes," Clark said, seeing that the two men weren't involved

in anything more serious than chatting. He looked at Rhys
and decided to stick with Daniel. Rhys could be a little
territorial. "Don't look at your client until the dom gives the
okay to chat," Clark cautioned.

"Right." Daniel walked over to the pair, and Peter's eyes

widened. Rhys stopped and gazed at the professor, assessing
and measuring. Rhys' eyes were the color of old bourbon in
the club light, and Clark worked hard not to betray his
distaste as he sauntered forward, eyes on Rhys, who was
utterly focused on the interloper.

"Rhys," Clark said evenly, watching Daniel instead of the

brown-haired man.

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Rhys merely glanced at Clark and grunted, and Clark

wasn't surprised. They'd never gotten along; Rhys was under
the impression that the right coaxing would land Clark in
Rhys' bed.

Clark—who usually wasn't terribly picky about bedmates

when it came to one-night stands—would rather coat himself
in honey and lie in a nest of fire ants than give Rhys more
than bare civility.

"Hello," the professor spoke up. "I'm Daniel Germain, and I

was wondering if I might have permission to speak to your
sub?"

"Wawl, isn't that sweet? You ask so nicely." The drawl

seemed friendly, but Rhys' smile was cold, and he yanked on
the leash to bring Peter close to him. Daniel's face stayed
impassive, and he hid fists behind his back.

"There's someone that'd rather speak with you than me,"

Rhys said. "Shall I let him?"

Peter kept his eyes down. "As you wish, Sir."
"Wawl, given that little Peter here's let it be up to me..."

The drawl hesitated, drew out, and Clark rolled his eyes at
the play on anticipation. Daniel waited, patient as the sea,
and Clark felt an inexplicable burble of pride.

"... all right, but he stays right here." Another jerk on the

leash, and Peter stumbled forward. "No touching, but he can
look at you if you want him ta."

"No problem." Daniel turned toward Peter, and Clark

casually stepped around in front of Rhys with a wolf's smile;
he wanted to hear Daniel talk to Peter. Rhys glared at him,

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

but Clark put his hands behind his back and blinked
innocently at Rhys.

"Look up," Daniel commanded. Clark watched Peter's

entire expression change as he looked at Daniel. The pretty
blue eyes went from wild to calm. Clark's breathing grew
shallow because something about the tone in Daniel's voice—
the tenderness there, the soft pitch—made him think—

"Look at me, Sergeant. Tell me what you see."
—of things best left dead. Clark shook his head and forced

his spine straight and mind blank. He even kept his lack of
expression when Peter looked deliberately at him and then
back to Daniel, one pale eyebrow raised in question.

"I'm here on an invitation to check this place out. I like it,

but it can be a little scary," Daniel said, his eyes intent on
Peter.

Rhys let loose a hearty laugh, and Peter shook his head at

Daniel, a tiny jerk. Clark breathed an inward sigh of relief; at
least the guy knew what he'd signed up for when he agreed
to a night with Rhys.

"Enjoy yourself," Daniel said, and got a quirk of Peter's

lips. Then he looked at Rhys. "Thank you. I appreciate the
permission."

"Anythin' to help out a chil' frightened by his elders." The

smirk was self-satisfied, and Clark turned smartly and
watched the pair leave, mind rolling around in too many
directions at once. He really—really—wanted a drink.

"Rhys can be an ass, but he won't hurt Peter," Clark said

without looking at Daniel. What he didn't say was that he
kept tabs on Rhys. Even though a background investigation

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by H.J. Raine

could check out and gain someone membership at Break, that
certainly didn't mean Clark liked everyone he approved.

Or left them alone once they were through the doors.
"I imagine he will give Peter some pain," Daniel said

mildly. "Peter wouldn't go to him, otherwise. Peter's more
self-destructive than I like, but I've managed to channel it
into activities of lower risk and less humiliation than he thinks
he wants. Still, you're probably right; Rhys is unlikely to go
past Peter's limits.

"It's good, though, that you seem to despise Rhys nearly

as much as I do," Daniel added with a chuckle.

Clark grunted and spoke without considering his words.

"He likes to think he can entice anyone. Tried it on me more
than once." He sighed. "Anyway, Peter'll be fine. Rhys obeys
the limits of contracts in regards to physical pain. He's a
bastard but not a monster."

"Well, Peter thought as much, so I can let it go." Daniel's

voice was soft and thoughtful. It made Clark nervous.

"You were going to take me where again?" Daniel asked.
"To meet Tristan," Clark answered, gaze catching Daniel's

for a second before sliding away. Tristan and Adam were still
talking, and while Clark watched, Adam brought his cuffed
wrists up as he laughed at something Tristan whispered in his
ear.

"This way," Clark said to Daniel, forcing himself to walk

instead of stalk.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

Chapter 5

Tristan was a slight man with dark hair and eyes. A

carefully structured goatee circled his mouth and outlined his
jaw, and he always looked ready to burst into laughter. He
barely cleared five-six, but sheer force of personality let him
fill a room. Tonight he wore a black shirt, maroon vest with a
pocket chain, and plain black pants. He looked like an extra
from a Victorian movie rather than a man more than happy to
take a crop to a sub's ass until it damn near bled.

Adam was also a slender man with dark hair, but his eyes

were startling blue. His skin was pale, not a line in sight, and
Clark liked that Adam was the sort always comfortable in his
surroundings.

Even when he wore little more than a scrap of fabric and a

pair of chain-linked leather cuffs.

"Clark!" Tristan bellowed in a deep voice. "Was wondering

when you'd get your ass over here and say, 'Hi!"

Clark stepped forward and embraced Tristan. "Showing a

new guy around; we got a little lost over on Rhys row."

Tristan rolled his eyes and turned to size up Daniel. He

grinned, showing teeth stained from too much wine and
coffee, and held out his hand. "Tristan."

"Daniel." Daniel grinned and took the proffered hand. "How

do you like it here?"

"Oh, he likes it dark and moaning, but it's early yet," Clark

joked.

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by H.J. Raine

Tristan laughed, and Adam shook his head, hair falling

across his forehead in a very fetching way.

"He knows me," Tristan said with a smile, before turning it

on Daniel. "I like it very much. Been with the club practically
since it opened its doors. The men run a good place."

Adam cleared his throat and didn't even try to make it

subtle. Clark hid a grin.

Tristan petted the back of Adam's head. "And this is Adam.

He's insolent, irritating, and a drama queen, but he loves to
get his ass spanked, so what can one do? Say hello to the
nice man, son."

Adam went up on his knees and twisted his hands to offer

one to Daniel. "Pleasure to meet you, Sir." His voice was a
pleasant tenor, and he met Daniel's eyes with a keen gaze.

The tension drained out of Daniel's shoulders, and he

smiled in delight at Adam, taking the boy's hand firmly in his.
"It's a pleasure to meet you."

Adam grinned and gained a mischievous look that Clark

recognized. "Master Tristan, you officially have competition
for the evening."

"Imagine," Tristan said drolly. "You? Like the pretty, dark

man? Well, I never..."

Adam stuck his tongue out at Tristan and looked back at

Daniel. "Be happy to be of service, Master Daniel."

Daniel turned to Tristan. "I was thinking of just watching

and learning how things work around here. And I wouldn't
want to get in the way, but this is awfully tempting."

Tristan chuckled and nodded. "Oh yes. Lord knows we

understand Adam and his brand of tempting."

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by H.J. Raine

Clark kept the smile on his face and told himself firmly that

what he felt was neither jealousy nor a vague sense of loss.
Feeling such things was insane and utterly not allowed.

The fuck, Clark, really?
"Adam was just good enough to offer to keep me company

for a while," Tristan said. "I've got no claim on him, other
than what I thought was a heartfelt friendship." He sighed
with false longing.

"I'm a fickle bitch," Adam said, with a wrinkled nose and

lick of his lips. Tristan laughed again, and Daniel joined him.

"Hm... I guess the best way to learn is to try things out

with proper guidance." Daniel glanced at Clark. "Besides, I'm
sure Clark would like a chance to assess my abilities while I
work."

Clark chose not to comment, but his gut tightened.
"You two all right with helping out a new guy?" Daniel

asked. "Well... new to this place, not new to the Scene. I
have some spanking experience, mostly by hand and some
with paddles."

"Oh, we're very happy to help," Adam said emphatically.
"Refrain from eating the patrons alive, Adam," Clark joked,

and Adam covered his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Spoilsport," Adam muttered, and then his eyes met

Daniel's. "I'm easy," he said. "You will be 'Master' or 'Sir' to
me, as you prefer."

"And I'm just 'Tristan,'" the man interrupted.
Adam nodded. "Paddling's fantastic—your hand would be

delicious." Adam paused as if distracted on that point, but

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by H.J. Raine

then continued. "Or you can use Tristan's toys. He'll let you
because I'll let him play, too."

"Such a giving little thing," Tristan interjected. "But yes—

you can help yourself." He nodded toward a golf bag leaning
against a chair.

"Safewords are simple: yellow and red. Green if you want

to check in with me, and I'm good to go. Touching's fine,
kissing's better, but if you want to feel me on the inside,
there's latex and lube under that table." Adam pointed and
grinned at Daniel. "And if your aim is to get me off," he
purred, "they'll come in handy."

Tristan laughed. "Let no man ever accuse you of being less

than eager, boy."

"Indeed," Adam agreed, eyes flashing. "And I can tell you

what I'd love for you to do to me, or you can decide for me,
Master Daniel." Adam lowered his eyes and slid to the floor
with a sinuous movement. He knelt back on his heels and
leaned to brush his lips lightly over the back of Daniel's hand.
The professor stroked Adam's jaw, under his ear, and into the
dark hair. Daniel's grip tightened, and Adam shivered.

Daniel smiled and let go to stroke Adam's hair. "I always

like knowing what you'd love for me to do. I think, however,
that Tristan and I will do what we wish to you. Thank you for
the safewords, those are easy for me. As for 'Sir' or
'Master'..."

Clark took a deep breath and froze as Daniel's eyes caught

his, an unidentifiable expression on Daniel's face. "I'd prefer
'Sir' for now. It's been a long time since I've owned anyone,"

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by H.J. Raine

Daniel said softly. Unable to hold the gaze, Clark looked
anywhere but at Daniel.

"Happy to serve, Sir," Adam replied, rubbing his face

against Daniel's leg.

Tristan crossed his arms. "Oh, I do love it when a night

turns more interesting than I expected."

Clark forced a chuckle. His heart thudded loudly in his

ears, and he felt the fringes of old panic flutter in his chest.
He ignored the sensation—he had to get through another
hour or so, at least. Otherwise people would wonder why he
left, maybe worry that he was sick. The last thing Clark
wanted was questions.

Lost in thought, Clark didn't noticed that Daniel had

approached him until they stood practically nose-to-nose.

"Thank you," Daniel said softly, and leaned closer until

Clark could feel the heat coming off Daniel's body. Just for
Clark's ear, Daniel murmured, "I now know what you meant
about Adam. This should be a lot fun. You look like you'd
rather be anywhere but around me, but I thought I'd ask if
you wanted to join us."

Clark's heart sank into his gut with leaden force, and he

heard a noise in his ears like a gunshot but knew it wasn't
real. Someone laughed nearby, and it made him want to
flinch, but he didn't. The music that was previously beneath
Clark's notice flooded over him and made him want to snarl.

He smells so damned—No. Just no. And call him on the

goddamned observation that you don't want to be nearby.
Damnit, Clark. Damn. It.

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

Clark did not lean closer to Daniel, tilt his head, or do

much of anything except stand like a statue. He would have
felt proud of his lack of reaction if he wasn't kicking himself so
hard for needing to channel such focus at such a high price.
Thinking of the color blue, Clark took a small step to the side,
head turning toward Daniel and mouth curving in a practiced
smirk.

"Wouldn't want to crowd your fun, Professor," Clark said,

voice a low rumble to match Daniel's. "Don't want you
thinking you owe me anything for the night. Go. Enjoy Adam.
I have."

Daniel's brow furrowed in a flicker of what Clark thought

might be frustration. He looked up, and Clark was caught by
the hurt, longing, and desire in Daniel's eyes. His lips parted,
and for one insane nanosecond, Clark wanted to apologize.

Why does he look so —?
Confusion swirled in Clark's gut, and his hand twisted into

a loose fist.

"Excuse me... Clark?" a soft voice said from behind Daniel.

But Clark didn't move, rooted to the spot by Daniel.

Daniel was not similarly affected, however, and he turned

and stepped away. A man stood nearby, wearing camouflage
pants and nothing else. Orange-red hair stuck out in all
directions, and red curls covered his chest. Both nipples were
pierced, as were his lips and ears, and his eyes were pale in
the light. Freckles covered his face and arms, and he ducked
his head when Clark acknowledged him.

"Ellis," Clark said in a shaky breath. "Good to see you."

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

The man relaxed a fraction at the greeting. "You, too.

Sorry... didn't mean to... uh..." He glanced at Daniel and then
back at Clark.

"You didn't," Clark said immediately, stepping farther away

from Daniel and trying not to feel relief for it. "Daniel was just
inviting me to some fun with Adam and Tristan, but..." He
shrugged one shoulder, as if to say something else came up.
In truth, the sight of Ellis made Clark feel even more tired
and confused. And angry.

"We were about done anyway," Daniel said smoothly, and

the words sank like marbles into Clark's guts. Feeling no
fewer than four sets of eyes on him, Clark made himself relax
and shove thoughts of Daniel away. He smiled warmly at Ellis
and reached out a hand, inviting the redhead closer.

"Haven't seen you in a while," Clark said, as Ellis flashed a

smile and walked to him. Clark slid one hand around the back
of Ellis' neck and squeezed, and the redhead tentatively
leaned toward Clark.

"Thirsty?" Clark asked in Ellis' ear.
"Yes, Sir," Ellis said softly.
Clark smiled. Ellis was a nice kid, but he liked Clark far

more than the reverse, so Clark kept their interaction light
and simple; no muss, no fuss. He thanked the stars that,
while Ellis might be disappointed when Clark declined to play
after they caught up with one another, Ellis would still go and
find someone else. Ellis was attracted but not attached.

Tonight, that suited Clark even more than usual.

* * * *

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by H.J. Raine

Daniel observed the exchange between Clark and the

redhead. Ellis' uncertainty was painful to watch, especially so
close to Adam's exuberance and balance with Tristan. He took
another two steps back and calmed himself before walking
back to the pair. "I guess it's just us, then."

"So 'tis," Tristan agreed and caught Daniel's gaze.

"Clark's... good at finding ways to distract himself." Tristan
ran his hand lower to caress the side of Adam's face, and the
young man sighed, leaning to bare a pale throat.

"I just wish I knew what he was distracting himself from,"

Daniel said with an exasperated sigh. He dropped into a
crouch behind Adam to run his hands down Adam's back and
lightly drag his nails up the smooth skin.

Adam made a quiet sound and arched his spine into

Daniel's touch. "Feels nice, Sir," he whispered, and Daniel
smiled at him.

"Old things," Tristan said, tilting Adam's head up to run his

thumb over the pretty boy's lower lip. "That he keeps to
himself," Tristan added, voice thoughtful while he caressed
Adam.

Daniel nodded and was suddenly sure that, even as

practiced and good as these two were, he wasn't going to talk
to them about Clark. Instead, he stroked down to Adam's ass,
pressing thumbs along the taut muscles and mapping where
he'd be able to spank Adam to best effect.

Adam's breathing picked up speed, and Tristan went to

one knee in front of Adam. "I think Daniel here's going to give
you exactly what you want, boy," Tristan murmured while his
thumb stroked over a pale pink nipple.

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"Yes, Sir," Adam said, voice breathy.
"Hmmm? Not 'Master' Tristan, now that you're all

distracted, sweet?" Tristan pinched the nipple with a sudden
press of skin, and Adam jerked.

"Sorry, Master." Adam sounded more aroused than

contrite, but Tristan just chuckled.

"It's probably good for both of you to know that I'm

entirely new to doing this on a stage in front of people,"
Daniel said. "I figure if I just focus on what Adam needs, it'll
help. I'd also really like it, Tristan, if you'd correct me if you
see me going astray." Daniel laughed. "I'm bad at obeying
but good at learning."

Tristan smiled at Daniel, the expression wolfish. "That's

easy enough. I think I'd quite enjoy the show. Adam is the
consummate professional." Tristan paused to squeeze both a
nipple and Adam's chin, and the boy squirmed nicely. "But
I'm happy to stick nearby and teach if it's needed. You're
surrounded by many pairs of good hands."

"I'm enjoying you working him in front, while I'm..."

Daniel's right hand slid forward along the cloth just barely
covering Adam's crotch, until he could cup and then gently
grip the bump of Adam's balls. "...working back here."

"Oooh yes, Sir and Master, please..." Adam's spine curved

in an arch, head back toward Daniel, chest toward Tristan,
and knees spreading wider.

Tristan chuckled evilly and bent to press a very light kiss

to the front of Adam's throat. "Oh, I think we could make this
work," he said, tone nonchalant as his other hand came up to
stroke Adam's arm.

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by H.J. Raine

Around the men, the lights dimmed and the white spotlight

over the play area gradually faded to blue. Interested patrons
gathered at the tall tables near the catwalk, one of the best
vantage points for enjoying the show. Beyond the main stage,
someone cried out in earnest, and Daniel looked up to see
Ellis walking away from a stiff-backed Clark. Since Clark
wasn't watching, Daniel put the bartender out of his mind and
turned all his focus on Adam.

When the boy arched again, Daniel murmured, "Nice." He

moved forward, keeping his right hand on Adam's balls as his
left grabbed a hip bone. Daniel pressed his chest against the
sub's back. He kissed and let the edge of his teeth scrape
along Adam's shoulder, each kiss moving toward Adam's
throat.

Adam bit his lip and let his head fall to the side. Tristan let

his hands travel down to Adam's thighs, squeezing. "So hard
already, boy. Hm. Maybe not such the professional tonight,
then. More just a pretty sub playing to our mercy?" The lilt in
Tristan's voice made the words playful, but the husk of the
tone made them a teasing taunt. Adam shivered.

Daniel's cock filled, and he worked his deliberate way to

Adam's throat. "No marking?" he asked, suddenly aware that
if Adam was a professional, he might not want to show up at
a client's bruised. He set the edges of his teeth against
Adam's pulse and waited for the answer.

"Answer him, boy," Tristan said with an edge to his voice.

He moved down to press his teeth around an abused nub of
skin, and Adam tensed in anticipation.

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by H.J. Raine

"I'd be honored to carry your mark, Sir," Adam said in a

rush.

Tristan hummed and bit into Adam's skin, sucking hard

and making an encouraging sound when Adam panted. Daniel
bit down as well, tasting Adam's skin, breath, and pulse.
Daniel let go of Adam's balls. With both hands, he pulled the
boy's hips back and ground up against his ass, so that Adam
could feel how his acquiescence aroused Daniel.

Body rocking, Adam closed his eyes, breath catching on a

stuttered moan. He pushed back against Daniel, and his
fingers snagged the fabric of Tristan's shirt. The chain
between the cuffs clanked as Adam moved.

Tristan let go of Adam's thighs and ran blunt nails up

Adam's sides, red lines rising in their wake. Daniel licked his
angry-looking mark twice before backing away to caress
Adam.

"How do you want to be spanked?" Daniel asked. "Held by

Master Tristan here while I go at it? Will that work for both of
you?"

Adam worked to swallow and answer, but Tristan spoke

before he got the chance. "That sounds like a perfect start,
but if I know our boy here, he wants to be over your lap and
panting for it." Tristan laughed when Adam jerked and
whined. "And he knows that's something he needs to earn."

"Yes, Master... Sir... please, oh... please..." Adam begged.
"Pretty little thing, all worked, up," Tristan said kindly.

"C'mere, sweet." Carefully, Tristan maneuvered Adam's
cuffed hands over his head and behind his neck, pulling the
young man closer, but still kneeling down so Adam's backside

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by H.J. Raine

was available to Daniel. Adam buried his face in Tristan's
throat.

Adam's trust in Tristan made Daniel's heart ache, however,

he felt more longing than jealousy. These two were so
comfortable together that he couldn't begrudge them. He
moved to Adam's side and put his left hand on Adam's lower
back. He gave four sharp blows, two on the right, two on the
left side of Adam's ass. He kept the slaps quick and light,
more for his arm and hand's sake than Adam's.

Adam's cries were muffled by Tristan's neck, and he

braced and moved back into the blows. Tristan crooned softly
and let one hand wander lower, stroking over Adam's
stomach and making him flinch.

"I do love you caught between two desires, boy," Tristan

said.

* * * *

Adam groaned, and across the room at the bar, Clark's jaw

flexed. The music wasn't nearly loud enough to drown out the
very familiar sound of a hand impacting flesh, and before he
could stop himself—think through what the hell he was
doing—Clark turned on the stool. He got an eyeful of Adam,
hard, needy, and clinging to Tristan, even as the boy
obviously wanted more from Daniel.

And Daniel...
All Clark could see was the line of Daniel's back, the tilt of

his head as he considered Adam and his next move. But Clark
had absolutely no trouble filling in the intensity of the gaze,

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by H.J. Raine

the concentration, the care, or the simmering lust that Clark
found himself wanting and hating at the same time.

Breath catching and body going still, Clark watched with

half the room, view unfortunately unobstructed, and his blood
began to warm.

Daniel ran his left hand along Adam's back, side, and belly,

reaching for and then wrapping his fingers slowly around
Adam's cock. Daniel stroked, and Adam shook and tried to
move into Daniel's fist, but Tristan caught Adam and held the
boy still.

"Boy," Daniel said. "Warn me if you're close to coming."
"Give the man his due, boy... honestly. Think you'd never

been spanked by a handsome man before," Tristan chided.

Immediately, Adam moved his head so he could be heard.

"Yes, Sir. I will, Sir... and please, God, more, Sir..."

Tristan chuckled warmly. "Pretty when they beg, isn't it?"
"Beautiful even," Daniel said reverently, and he gave Adam

another quick set of four. Then Daniel rolled his shoulder
before he put his whole arm into a good, hard swat across all
of Adam's ass.

Adam's cries were loud and uninhibited, and Tristan softly

spoke to him, one hand brushing back Adam's hair. Adam
shuddered, and the chain clanked as he pulled on it, shifting
his hands to grip Tristan's shirt.

Clark felt warmth slither down his spine and between his

legs to bloom in his gut, balls, and cock. He was off the stool
and moving before brain caught up to body, and he told
himself that he just wanted to see technique. He rationalized
that watching Daniel perform for the first time at Break was

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by H.J. Raine

100

somehow polite, respectful. Maybe it would make Daniel
happy to know Clark was interested, especially after that look
in his eyes earlier.

And maybe some or all of the reasons were true, but they

fled Clark's conscious mind as he paused with a clear view of
Daniel. Adam and Tristan might as well have been invisible
for all they registered, and for a moment, Clark relaxed his
iron will and let himself enjoy the way Daniel looked, moved,
and worked.

Clark wanted, but he caged it tight and buried it beneath

the observation of someone else's need.

Daniel waited until Adam got a good grip on his master's

shirt before laying down another swat. Clark spread his legs
to find balance, and the world spun as his mind provided him
an image of a dingy hotel room, of what it looked like when
he was on his knees.

Adam's cries became incoherent, and when he tried to

thrash—move to get more friction, adjust to offer more of
himself, get closer to and away from the impact at the same
time—Tristan's arms clamped down and held him stationary.
Another swat cracked before Adam completely stilled, and
Clark jerked, a gasp escaping his lips.

"Yes!" Adam called, sounding grateful and helpless. Tristan

petted through Adam's hair and held up two fingers, saying
without words that Adam was at the point that they should
either stop and have mercy or give Adam a moment to
recover.

Daniel nodded at Tristan and shook out his hand. Clark

licked his lips when the spank landed with a satisfying smack.

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101

Adam didn't make a sound, but his body rolled with a shudder
and his hips pulsed.

"Good, boy," Tristan said. "Take what he gives you."
Adam whimpered, and Clark stood frozen, eyes unblinking

and a hundred things swirling just under the surface. The way
Adam clung to Tristan made him hurt. Physically hurt. He'd
seen Adam interact with Tristan before, but this was more
honest than Adam usually let himself get in public. Maybe it
was the crowd, maybe it was the addition of the new player.
But the ability to give in like that was...

Clark put on his best poker face, knew it didn't reach his

eyes, and didn't give a shit.

Daniel let go of his hold on Adam's cock, using both hands

to stroke angry skin. He kneaded the muscles once. "Just one
more, boy. You're exquisite with your ass tanned and ready."
He gave Adam another soft caress before he said, "Here it
comes," and hit red flesh.

"Nnnn-God!" Adam cried, and his voice broke. "Close, oh

God, oh please... close... close..."

Tristan held the shaking man, who trembled and went half-

limp in his arms. Clark gripped the glass in his hand hard
enough to make it give, and his teeth clacked together and
ground down when Daniel hugged Adam from behind, cheek
against the boy's shoulder. Clark swallowed, and his free
hand formed a fist as he breathed faster, watching Daniel
recover and enjoy someone else. His mind screamed at him
for such a thought, but it was lost within the swirling
maelstrom of confusion and need.

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102

Letting go of Adam, Daniel licked the rim of Adam's ear,

saying something too softly for anyone to hear. It made
Adam roll his face against Tristan's shoulder. Clark retreated
backward into the gloom, eyes down and thoughts darkened
by old unhappiness that cut him deep. Every time he hoped
he'd found the bottom and could clean the wound and let it
heal, something else twisted and drew fresh blood.

"I think he did very well for you, Daniel. What do you

think?" Tristan asked.

"I think he did very well, indeed," Daniel said, taking the

same tone, grinning even as he rolled his hand against his
thigh.

"Well enough for a reward?" Tristan asked. "Maybe give

yourself a rest and let me go for a while?"

"I think he deserves it," Daniel said soberly. "I'd love to

watch you work. How can I help?"

"Well," Tristan began, "why don't you go make yourself

comfortable on the couch? Our boy here is going to follow.
Settle between your knees, I think." He grinned wickedly.
"And what do you say he can tease you but nothing more?
He's been good... but not that good."

Adam made a noise between a whine and a chuckle, and

Daniel laughed. "Yes. That would be very pleasant, and..." He
stopped speaking to look around, and Clark watched from the
shadows, hearing it when Daniel's voice grew quieter. "... and
yes on just the teasing. That sounds like a good line to hold."

Tristan carefully removed Adam's arms from about his

neck. "Go on, then, boy," he said to Adam. "I'll be along in a
second."

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103

Adam sat back and turned to Daniel, eyes down and

cheeks flushed. Daniel hesitated before stroking Adam's hair
and putting a hand on Adam's shoulder. "Come on."

"Thank you, Sir," Adam said, standing with some modicum

of grace. Daniel wrapped one arm around the sub, holding
him close. Tristan rose with the pair of them, hands out
toward Adam for a second before he nodded. Daniel took
Adam over to the couch, keeping pace with the boy and
maintaining the shoulder-to-hip contact.

"You feel so good, Sir," Adam said, brushing his cheek

against Daniel's shoulder.

Daniel brushed his lips across dark hair. He spoke again,

words lost to the crowd, but Clark shivered with Adam, who
always spoke loudly enough for an audience to hear.

"You can taste whatever you like, Sir," Adam said, before

sinking to his knees.

"Make yourself comfortable," Tristan said to Daniel,

rejoining the pair.

In a shadow nearby, Clark watched the exchange with

mounting tension. This was a trainwreck. Daniel sat down on
the couch and settled Adam between his legs. Clark circled
the stage, moving as though in a dream until he had a clear
view once again. He saw Adam lick lips and speak—

"May I touch you, Sir?"
—words eager and hungry. Tristan crossed his arms,

content to stand and watch, gaze affectionate.

"Just a minute, I want to do this first." Daniel stroked

along Adam's jaw and into his hair, turned Adam's face, and
deliberately kissed Adam's lips. Clark's mouth tingled as

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Adam moaned beneath the onslaught of Daniel's attention,
and Tristan made a sound of need and appreciation as the
men tasted one another.

The kiss lingered, and Clark gasped as anger roiled and

subsided like a flash flood. He bit the inside of his cheek hard
enough to taste blood and took three involuntary paces
forward into the pale blue light surrounding the play area.
Clark couldn't take back the steps—that would appear too
obvious a retreat—so instead he stayed where he was.

Daniel broke the kiss with a lazy grin at Adam, looked up,

and found Clark. Clark went utterly still when his eyes met
Daniel's, and he tried very hard to make his face work into a
smile, but all he could manage was the twitch of his upper lip.

Clark wasn't like this; he didn't get this easily disturbed.

He could always fake a mask, show a smile, play the part,
but...

I can still remember the way Brian's hands ran through my

hair; the way he smiled down at me

A cruel shudder rocked Clark's shoulders, and he tried to

contain it as much as he could.

"Please... Sir... may I... God..." Adam shivered, and

Tristan pulled a black glove from one pocket and put it on his
right hand as he went onto his knees behind Adam.

Daniel stroked Adam's skin but kept his gaze locked with

Clark's. "What do you want, boy? Tell me."

Clark scowled.
The hell's he looking at me for?
"I want to rub my hands over your thighs and cock

through your pants, Sir," Adam husked. "I want to lie across

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your lap and tease you with my face and mouth while Master
does what he wishes to me. I want to smell you, moan
against you because what Master does will feel so good, and
just... be close... hold on to you... please? Sir, may I?"

Tristan pulled out a condom packet from his pocket and

ripped it open with his teeth. Daniel stroked Adam's bent
head, still looking at Clark. "Since you've asked so nicely,
please go ahead and do what you've said."

"Oh, thank you, Sir," Adam groaned, loud and clear, before

his hands slid along Daniel's inner thighs, the cuffs and chain
restricting his movement. Bending forward with a soft noise
of greed, Adam turned his face and kneaded at one of
Daniel's legs while he mouthed Daniel's cock through the
pants, moaning as he worked.

Clark's mouth fell open as Daniel took a deep, shivering

breath, bucking his hips against what friction Adam provided.
Daniel looked down at the sub in his lap with naked affection
and desire, reaching to brush his thumb against the mark
he'd made on Adam's throat. "Mm... that's it. Just what I like:
sweet, eager, and..." He glanced at Clark. "Wanting."

Clark struggled to appear merely interested. He forced his

shoulders down, his leg to bend, and held the image of a
relaxed pose even as every muscle in his body went rigid. He
thought of hurricanes and tsunamis and thunderstorms, wet
things that swirled and threatened lives. He felt some force of
nature sucking him down, and he fought against the
sensation tooth and nail.

He wanted to be Daniel with Adam in his lap; he wanted to

be Tristan, with nothing else on his mind but giving pleasure

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to a pretty boy. But Clark couldn't stop staring at the cuffs on
Adam's wrists or the way Adam's mouth worked over Daniel.

Clark gritted his teeth, jaw flexing as Tristan grabbed

Adam's hips and pulled backward. There was a condom in the
man's hand and a small bottle of lube near Tristan's knee.
Clark knew what was coming.

Adam. In short order, I'd bet. With his face buried in

Daniel's lap.

"Hm," Tristan said. "Maybe unhook the chain, Daniel?

Might help him brace if you'd just like to enjoy." He shrugged.
"Up to you."

Daniel unhooked Adam's right cuff, letting the links dangle

before he stroked Adam's arms and shoulders. Adam wrapped
one arm behind Daniel while his right hand teased, aiding his
mouth. Tristan leaned to grab the bottle next to his knee,
squeezed clear slick into his left, uncovered hand, and
reached around to stroke Adam's length. He used his right
hand to steady Adam.

"Mm... mmph... yes... please, Master..." The words were

high-pitched and muffled, and Clark felt them like electric
shocks. Daniel groaned and leaned into the couch, and Clark
had to catch his balance as his body mimicked the motion.
Daniel placed his right arm about Adam's head and shoulders,
while his left petted the warm, flawless skin of Adam's back.

Meanwhile, Tristan teased Adam and shifted closer to use

both hands and roll the condom over the sub's cock. Adam
responded predictably; Clark could hear him moaning from
where he stood.

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Frowning, Clark looked down at his nearly-empty glass. He

should enjoy the show. He should leave before the memories
got any worse. He should return to the bar and act like he
wasn't bothered. He should walk over to Daniel and kiss the
man while Adam worked in his lap.

Too many conflicting impulses, and Clark felt worry gnaw

at his insides when he heard another sound like a gunshot. It
wasn't real, but it was a warning.

Clark looked up, feeling sick, and he saw Tristan glance

over his shoulder at Clark before turning back to Adam. Clark
frowned.

"Such a good boy," Tristan said with affection.
Clark shook his head. Tristan squeezed Adam's right ass

cheek with the gloved hand and then brought his hand down
in three fast blows of varying intensity: moderate, mild, hard.

Adam gasped, noise dampened as he pressed himself

closer to Daniel. "Oh, God—" he managed to say before
Tristan did it again, four strikes this time.

"Shit," Adam groaned.
"Something to say, boy?" Tristan asked.
"Thank you, Master," Adam said immediately, the words

blurring into one as he spoke them fast.

Tristan drew back and waited, watching Adam with a small

smirk on his face. The boy in Daniel's lap squirmed after three
seconds of nothing happening.

Clark flinched when Tristan's hand met Adam's skin again,

harder and unforgiving, and Clark counted five as he took an
involuntary step forward. He blinked, dazed, and let his eyes
slide up Daniel's body.

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"Nngh—please!" Adam called.
Fingers threading through Adam's hair, Daniel wrapped his

arm about Adam's upper body and looked up at Clark, gaze
heated and desperate, almost longing. Clark jerked backward,
the intensity in Daniel's eyes nearly a physical blow.

Not for me. Wouldn't want me and shouldn't. Can't.
Cold panic slithered and stirred in Clark's body, and he

knew with utmost clarity that he needed to get out of here.
Now. After years of practice, he could sometimes predict
when a "blackout" was coming. The anniversary, the
confusion, the club, the scene in front of him...

Daniel.
This one's going to hurt.
Daniel's eyes and expression held Clark still, feet frozen as

Tristan said something to Adam, the words lost to Clark.
Tristan moved to one side to tease Adam's ass with soft blows
while his hand reached around to stroke the boy. Adam's cry
was high and needy, and his body rocked when Tristan began
to work him.

"Face up, boy," Tristan commanded. "Let Daniel see how

you look when you get what you need."

Adam rolled to his left, turning his face to the side to rest

on Daniel's leg so the man could watch. Clark shuddered in
longing and pain. Sweat stood out on Adam's skin; his eyes
were half-closed, mouth open, lips dry; and he shivered when
the teasing blows Tristan delivered grew harder.

Daniel traced along Adam's damp skin, a thumb brushing

under the half-closed lids, and his other arm tightening about

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the vulnerable, shivering body. "God, you're gorgeous,"
Daniel said softly.

Adam panted and grunted as he let Tristan move his body.

The strikes to his behind turned into clutches and clenches,
and Tristan looked down at Adam with a heated, sure gaze.

"He's beautiful," Tristan agreed, tone reverent. He stroked

Adam harder and watched as Adam's mouth fell open in a
silent cry, brow furrowing. "Stunning when he comes... ass
red..." Tristan swatted again, and Adam's entire body jerked
and then went still. "Voice high... let's hear you, boy."

With one more strike hard enough to rock Adam against

Daniel, the sub called out a long, strangled sound of relief and
release. Tristan gripped Adam's abused flesh, and Adam
writhed, falling silent in his ending, but mouth open and arms
clinging desperately to Daniel. The professor held Adam close
and sure, murmuring sounds of reassurance, hands stroking
along the shaking sub's hair, back, and sides.

For a few rapid heartbeats, Clark found clarity and silence

like a break in cloud cover. He stared at the tender way
Daniel held Adam, memories flickering beneath the stillness—

"It's okay. I've got you."
—in a way that didn't hurt for that one, frozen moment of

time.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter 6

Tristan soothed Adam with hands and voice, leaning over

and holding him. Clark watched the men, sucked in a breath
to steady himself, and that's when the pain hit.

Lancing though his eye and shooting in from his spine to

fan out over his side, the pain made Clark jerk. It was
phantom—he knew that. Some sort of nasty brain cocktail
that made things seem real; ghosts of evils past.

But that didn't make it hurt a damned bit less. In fact,

Clark felt sure that the phantom pains hurt more than the
injuries that initially caused them. He managed for a second
or two, and then nausea hit with a force that made Clark
break into a cold sweat. He bent slightly, head going down
and arm wrapping protectively across his abdomen before he
checked himself and stiffened his spine.

I will not panic. Pain is nothing. Illness is manageable. Just

get outside. And breathe.

Clark set his glass down on a nearby table and paused

until he was sure he could walk without calling attention to
himself. He blew out a breath and calmly turned with a smile
on his face as he began making his way toward the door. He
didn't run for the closest exit—it would be too obvious—and
chose instead to suffer as he nodded and winked at patrons.

Lucian stepped away from his high table and frowned at

him. "Clark?" he said.

"Early day tomorrow," Clark said with a wave. "Fantastic

time as always, Lucian."

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Lucian didn't reply, and Clark's long stride had him at the

door and out into the 'combs in less than five seconds.

"Leaving already, Clark?" a woman asked, as he barreled

down the stone hallways.

Clark flashed a grin. "Hot date, can't keep him waiting."
The woman's laughter grated on his eardrums as he

pumped his legs faster and rounded the final corner.
Goddamn but these hallways were entirely too long, Clark
thought as he half-trotted toward the exit.

Clark slowed down to make his way up the spiral staircase.

Panic beat hard against him, and he held it off by sheer
magic. It wasn't willpower—that had exactly no effect on the
blackouts—so perhaps it was temporary luck and God's grace.

Definitely more of the first.
Clark squared his shoulders and calmed himself, despite

the fact that his vision threatened to tunnel. If he showed an
ounce of distress to the two hulks guarding the entrance,
they'd make him stay or call someone or do something else
Clark didn't want.

"Gentlemen," Clark said easily as he passed out the door.

"Enjoy your stargazing, all right?"

"Good night, Master Clark," said one of the guards.
Mission accomplished, Clark spun on his heel. Once he was

out of their line of sight, he broke into a stumbling jog. It was
chilly, and he remembered his jacket and phone were still
back at the coat check. But that thought was quickly erased
by the image of a smiling man with military-short hair.

Focus.

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Clark looked at the path and slowed the jog when it jarred

the echoes of pain too much. Dizzy, breathless, and kicking
himself for staying too long at the club when he knew he was
in bad shape, Clark barely made it beyond the trees to the
sidewalk before he staggered. He forced his hands into fists
tight enough to feel the bite of his nails and made himself
glance around, hating the small noise that escaped his lips.
There was no one in sight. Above Clark, the safety lights
buzzed obnoxiously. Clark felt the familiar stages of red-alert
panic begin to overtake him, and he sucked in a gulp of air,
trying to stay calm and maybe avoid this. Maybe, if he could
just breathe—

—and then the landscape changed.
Gone were the cars, the lot, the sidewalk, and anything

else solid and real. Instead, Clark saw a narrow, dirt road
next to a line of shabby buildings. He heard voices.

"The fuck is this place, Patterson? Goddamned Iran?"
"Fuck off. It's right down here. Keep your panties dry,

Morrell."

Clark heard himself chuckle, saw it all from his two

matching eyes. He could feel Sergeant Brian Patterson brush
against his arm and knew the movement was deliberate. They
were going to grab food off-base, a rare treat. People passed
the small group of American soldiers, some casting wary
eyes, but most just ignoring them. Clark looked down at the
dirt with a hidden smile, loving the way Brian would risk
simple gestures to let Clark know how he felt, that he
remembered, that he didn't take anything for granted.

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Looking up, Clark saw a sign and turned to ask Brian if this

was the place. But the world blew to pieces in a roar of
religious rage.

Clark lay on his side when he came out of a shocked daze.

He couldn't see well and didn't understand what that meant.
He knew he was hurt, but he put aside the pain to take stock
of his men—his friends, his unit, and his...

"Brian?" Clark rasped as he turned a head that felt full of

needles. He knew he spoke, but the cotton-dampened ringing
in his ears drowned out the sound. Maybe he shouted, maybe
he cried, he didn't know. What his body did couldn't matter so
long as it obeyed Clark's command. Get. Up. Help. Them.

Clark flipped to his stomach and felt things shift inside his

body; not mortal, but bad. He looked around, coughing as he
breathed in air full of dirt and plaster and smoke. Faintly, he
heard screams, but that, too, was lost in the angry buzzing of
the million bees droning in his head. His face felt tacky—
bleeding—and his clothing was torn nearly off. He skin felt
sand-blasted, but then he stopped trying to gather facts when
he saw Brian.

Patterson lay not three feet away in a pool of blood and

other things best left inside a human body. Clark had a clear
view of Brian's face, and while Clark watched, Brian's dark
eyes blinked once, slowly. An outstretched hand spasmed,
and then Brian was gone.

Clark screamed in the memory—for help, for God, for

agony—and then, thankfully, the world twisted again.

The sidewalk was too close, and Clark realized he was

kneeling, caught on one hand as he bent forward with his

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head down. Vomit churned in his gut, and he gagged. He
turned his head and spat, trying to go through the mental
exercises that told him it wasn't real. Memory—just memory.
Painful, awful, in vivid color and enough to make him wish for
death again, but not real.

Clark gasped for air, then forced himself to breathe in

slowly through his nose and out his mouth.

So stupid. That was years ago. Get over it, already. And

breathe, damnit. Breathe.

Running footsteps approached. "Clark?"
Sucking in a harsher breath at the sound of the familiar

voice, Clark jerked his head over his shoulder.

Which was a huge mistake.
Grimacing, Clark fought nausea and spat again, keeping

the contents of his stomach where they should be despite
their protests.

Get up. Do not let him see you like this. Get. Up.
"Daniel," Clark rasped and moved to put one foot on the

ground.

"No, don't." Daniel barked, taking two steps closer. "You

fell. You can't..."

"The fuck I can't," Clark snarled. "Get back." A part of

Clark's brain quietly suggested that he should be nice to the
kind man who was obviously concerned for Clark's well-being.

Clark told it to fuck off.
Struggling and hating every second of it, Clark got up on

shaky legs. When the vomit rose, he swallowed it and faced
Daniel. He knew exactly how he looked: drawn, pale, sick,
and doing a great imitation of a thunderstorm.

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Daniel didn't stand back, but he didn't try to touch Clark,

either. Clark grimaced when his eye gave a twinge. For a
second he was at an utter loss for what to say, and his mind
flailed, still roiling with the attack.

"I'm... sorry you saw this," Clark said, and that was most

definitely the truth. "Go back. I'm fine."

"I can't," Daniel said in a tremulous voice that made Clark

wince.

"Of course you can," Clark said. "It's easy: turn, go,

forget."

Keeping his gaze steady on Daniel was hard. Seeing Daniel

distressed after the scene earlier with Adam was beyond
horrific.

"Tell me what you want..."
"... I... don't know..."
"More of my mouth. You want that?"
Clark's eyes widened as that particular memory assaulted

him, and he cursed the gods, and fate, and the universe at
large for being such utter dicks. Knowing that Daniel watched
him intently, Clark cleared his throat and swayed on his feet.
Before Clark could protest, Daniel wrapped arms around him
and said firmly, "No, I can't."

"Bri— " Clark stopped, froze, and put his hand on Daniel's

shoulder, eyes to the side and not returning the embrace.
"Daniel," he said more steadily. "Please..."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Sergeant? Or should I call

you something else?"

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Clark shivered, and he knew the shakes were coming. Cold

sweat doused his skin, and he leaned into Daniel by a fraction
of an inch.

Daniel held on. "I've got you. I saw you go down, and

you're cold, so I'm worried about shock. I can't let you go,
Clark, not in the shape you're in."

Clark swallowed, nearly choking on his own saliva, and he

pulled back as much as he could, but didn't meet Daniel's
gaze. He frowned. "What did you..."

"It's okay, I've got you..."
The words echoed in a round robin, and Clark hissed a

gasp through his teeth. He made a quiet sound that was
entirely too close to a whimper, and he damned himself for
not being man enough to let the dead stay buried.

"I said it's okay," Daniel answered. "That I'm all right with

seeing you like this. I've got you, and I won't let you fall. I
can't just turn my back on you. For all that you make me
think too much and go through some damned dizzying loops
on nothing but a few clues as insubstantial as a freaking hen's
tooth, I think I'm starting to like you." Daniel laughed.

Clark gave up trying to breathe through his nose and

panted out his mouth. The sound of rushing air gave him
something to focus on, and his legs shook from panic,
adrenaline, and sheer proximity to Daniel. The want and heat
swirled with everything else in Clark's head, and it was just...

Too much. This is too fucking much.
Clark bent until the bridge of his nose rested on the back

of his own hand on Daniel's shoulder. The movement was
jerky and halting, but he did it. "Just starting to... huh..." he

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managed to say. His voice was small and weak, for all it
attempted humor.

Daniel chuckled and stroked Clark's back. "No, I liked you

the moment I first saw you, the strength of your hand, your
wit, your confidence, and your smile. I just... I knew too
much, like you said. Your reputation preceded you, and I just
couldn't see."

Under normal circumstances, Clark knew he'd be

humiliated at how much relief washed over him, but the hand
on his back felt nice, and nothing about Daniel seemed to fall
into the category of normal anything.

"Couldn't see..." Clark repeated, and he turned his head

and breathed against Daniel's neck. This helped. He didn't
feel like his insides were struggling to find outside air
anymore, and the shakes weren't nearly as bad as they
should be. His legs still trembled, but he could stand. Clark
told himself that anything that helped the attack aftermath
was good.

Daniel wrapped an arm around Clark. Fingers gently stole

into Clark's hair, and Daniel sighed while rubbing the back of
Clark's stiff neck. Clark bit back a moan and held still,
wanting to cling to Daniel and unable to let himself.

Turning his face so that his chin brushed Clark's face,

Daniel sighed. "What do you want, Clark? What do you really
want of me?"

Clark stopped breathing, and his brain misfired. Everything

Daniel did felt exactly—no, check that, it felt better than Clark
imagined it would. He tried for a second just to feel it and not
think too much about anything at all, but he struggled with

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the flashes of memory—all painful, all horrible—and with the
question Daniel had asked. Clark knew too many levels of
answers, and part of him balked and wondered what in the
hell Daniel meant, wondered who in the hell the professor
was to ask Clark such a thing.

The fuck? What do I want?
Clark pulled away from Daniel, and when he felt

resistance, he struggled against it. Not hard, but it did occur
to Clark that he could kill this man in no fewer than four
ways.

"I think I want you to give me a ride home," Clark said,

frost in his voice. "I wouldn't ask, but my damned phone's
back in the club so I can't call a cab, and I'm plenty aware
that I shouldn't drive."

"I'd be glad to," Daniel said, releasing Clark, who missed

Daniel's arms as soon as they left. "So long as you let me in
to see you settled."

Clark nodded, feeling a mix of irritation and heat at the

thought of Daniel in his home. "Fine," he said. He wasn't out
of the woods yet with the attack, he knew, so, really, it made
sense to have someone see him home.

Good sense. Nice, rational sense.
Clark scowled, uncharacteristically ill at ease.
Daniel turned toward the path and waited. "I'm not letting

you too far out of arm's reach. I saw how hard you went
down."

Clark took a step and realized his knees ached. That was a

good sign—feeling things that were real was a good way to
gauge recovery from one of the damned fits. Wincing, he

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nodded and found he wanted Daniel close, which inspired a
fresh wave of heat and exasperation.

"Okay," Clark said with a shrug. "I can... that's fine." Face

still twisted into a scowl, Clark managed two unsteady steps
before Daniel sighed, pain tinting the sound.

"Please, can I just..." Daniel took Clark's arm and slid

under it.

Clark didn't say anything. He got lost in how solid Daniel

felt, and the texture of his shirt was surprisingly pleasing to
the touch. He gripped at fabric and let Daniel help him. Old
anger flared, but he ignored it, exhausted.

Honest to God, there are going to be so many reasons to

lock yourself away in a dark room for the next week with
whiskey, what's a few more going to hurt?

Together, they made their way to their cars. The little

Tesla lit up when Daniel came within range. He took Clark
over to the passenger side of the car, opened the door, and
hovered.

Clark eased his arm across Daniel's shoulders and turned,

which brought his face close enough to Daniel's that he could
count pores. "Thanks... I've... I can manage this."

"I'm going to watch you sit down while I'm right here. No

use going this far and having you hit your head on the
pavement," Daniel said dryly.

"...Right," Clark said, tearing his eyes away from Daniel's.

He felt warm and blamed it on readjusting body temperature.
With more grace than he thought he had in him, Clark sank
back into the car and swung his long legs in after him. He

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clutched his left knee, knowing it would be sore as hell
tomorrow.

Daniel closed the door, walked to the other side, got in,

and started the car. Clark felt Daniel looking at him as he
leaned back against the headrest, eyes closing.

"If you want to relax, you can enter your address in the

GPS and it'll take us there." Daniel threw the car into reverse
and pulled out of the spot.

"Fine," Clark mumbled. He navigated menus, grateful for

the focus, and then sank back into the seat, arms crossing.
He frowned, considering. "Were you..." He paused to
rephrase. "You looked like you were having a good time back
there."

"I was," Daniel said evenly. They rounded the last of the

Break parking lot and entered the Bliss tiers. The lights of the
city glittered below them like a chest full of jewels spilled
across black velvet, and Daniel's breath went from him in a
soft, "Oh."

The Tesla slowed, and Daniel laughed softly. "I bet you see

that every time you come up here."

Clark watched Daniel, not the city, and liked the way the

professor looked when something made him happy. "Yeah, I
do. Doesn't get old, though."

"That's good to know." Daniel smoothly and silently pulled

forward. He kept it slow for the lot, and then when they hit
the ridge road, he sped up. Enjoying the ride and thinking the
car was damn near as good on the corners as the Jag, Clark
struggled, feeling like he should say something. Knew he
should. But he was tongue-tied and irritated about it and

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finally just blurted out what came to mind first. "I'm sorry.
About that back there." He paused. Well, it was going so well,
why not just keep digging the hole? "And thanks—for the
ride."

And for helping me off the pavement despite me being a

jackass. Good of you.

"You're very welcome," Daniel said. "Thank you for

trusting me and giving me your address."

A joke was on Clark's tongue instantly—something about

his loft not having anything of interest to Daniel if Clark
wasn't home—but it died in the silence of the car. He shifted
in the seat and leaned his head back again.

"...PTSD," Clark said with his eyes closed, not sure why he

was sharing, but the urge to talk made him squirm. Besides,
the man was helping Clark out, had said something back
there about liking him, and Clark firmly put the rest out of his
mind. He didn't know quite what to do with all the events of
the night, yet. He felt at once too tired and too painfully
aware of Daniel. And the memory of the way Daniel's hand
felt on his back and in his hair was not helping him sit still or
focus.

"Usually the episodes are mild. Tonight's wasn't. It hasn't

been that bad since I first got..."

Out of the hospital and back to the US for six months of

psychiatric counseling to make sure I didn't go blow someone
up.

"...back home," Clark finished.

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Daniel nodded. "I was worried about you. You seemed..."

He stopped, bit his lip, and took a turn too fast. He had to
drag the Tesla viciously around with acceleration.

"Sorry," Daniel said, contrite.
"Nicely done," Clark praised. "And don't apologize to me; I

think your tires felt that more than I did."

Daniel chuckled. "Thanks. This car's far too forgiving of my

mistakes, so I push it harder than I should." His eyes canted
toward Clark in the dim of the car, and Clark faced forward,
worrying at his lip and running his palms over his pants. He
replayed every moment of the night in his head and found
himself terribly unsure. All the fallout from Orsino's that Clark
had so carefully explained to himself. Then the exchanges
tonight at Break, the way Daniel looked like he wanted Clark
for dinner at the coat check. The scene, God, the looks, the
exchanges, the damned words.

"Liked you when I met you... reputation preceded you...

just didn't see..."

Clark was far from an idiot, even when he was exhausted,

even when he wanted to find some dark hole and hide away
until the world disappeared.

"What do you really want of me?"
Clark made a quiet noise and rubbed at his eyes with his

thumb and forefinger. This was bad. Good. Uncomfortable.
Awkward. Unusual. Upsetting.

Clark kept going, amusing himself with finding new words

to describe his present situation.

"Now you're thinking enough to make my head hurt, and

that's saying something."

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Clark looked at Daniel, surprised, and managed to chuckle.

At least this particular mess was better than being by himself,
drunk, crawling, occasionally throwing up, and talking to dead
people. That was the usual routine after such an episode, but
with Daniel in the mix, maybe it could be different.

"I was... just replaying the night," Clark said lamely. It

was at least the truth, if not the entire truth.

Daniel tilted his head as the GPS warned him of the turn

onto the highway. He followed the directions and accelerated
up the ramp. "What parts were you replaying?" he asked. "I
hope some of it was good."

Clark relaxed at the playful tone of Daniel's voice.

"Watching you with Adam was nice." Clark rumbled a low
chuckle. "Kid liked you a lot."

"He was very sweet," Daniel said, wistful. "It's nice having

someone I can read so easily, and fun to be able to meet his
needs. Made it easy to focus on him instead of all those
people." Daniel shuddered. "I'm still not sure I'm much good
at public scenes."

"You looked like you'd been doing them since pre-school,"

Clark said, as a humorous caricature of a five-year-old Daniel
in leather filled his brain. "You did fine. Adam's good at what
he does, and he doesn't usually cut loose like that. So you
definitely did everything right in his book." Clark shifted
uncomfortably as Daniel's words came back to him again.

"...really want of me?"
"He doesn't? Huh." Daniel fell into thought, and Clark

looked out the window as they drew closer to his home.
Images of Daniel holding and touching Adam danced through

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his brain, leaving Clark pained instead of turned on. He
shifted in the seat, wishing to be out and moving instead of
pent up inside a car. He wasn't very good at sitting still, and
he felt like he was on a razor's edge.

After moments passed in silence, Clark had to say

something to turn off the soundtrack of Daniel's voice in his
own mind. "You said you were worried about me," Clark
nearly whispered and cleared his throat. "And so you, what...
saw me leaving and...?"

"I followed you. After making sure Tristan had Adam and

was okay with it. I..." Daniel's swallow was audible. "I had
to."

Clark cocked his head, intrigued and wishing he wasn't.

"You had to?"

"Yes. I saw you getting more and more tense, more and

more uncomfortable, and I thought... No. I felt..." Daniel
growled. "In part, I felt responsible, and in part, I just..."

"You just?" Clark prompted.
Daniel's hands flexed on the steering wheel. "...I was

worried."

Listening to Daniel struggle through the answer was sweet.

Enticing and sweet. Clark fidgeted, stopped himself, and then
said to hell with it.

Reaching over, Clark touched Daniel's thigh with a light

brush and pulled his hand away, not wanting Daniel to think it
was anything other than an acknowledgment that Clark heard
how hard those words were to say and appreciated it. "You
didn't know..." Clark sighed.

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"April thirtieth is the anniversary of when this happened,"

Clark said, gesturing to his face. "It wasn't you. Well... you
reminded me a little of some things." Clark shook his head.
"But this is all my shit, not yours. So don't..." Clark fisted his
hand and rested it between them. "Feel bad for it. I'm sort of
glad you were there, but it's not easy 'cause only a few
people have ever seen me like that." Clark shrugged, trying
to calm his heartbeat and keep his breathing steady at his
admission. He wanted to feel good about explaining—wanted
to think Daniel deserved it—but part of him screamed to take
it back. Fast.

"Ah, that makes sense." Daniel seemed to consider Clark's

words. "I won't feel bad about it, then. I'm glad I was there,
too, and didn't learn the next morning that you had an
episode and had to make it home on your own."

Clark watched Daniel closely, half-formed thoughts made

of intuition and curiosity flaring in his mind. He reached and
rested his hand again on Daniel's thigh, and couldn't help but
rub his finger on the leather.

"Yeah," Clark said, voice rough. "I really don't want to

think about what would have happened if someone else came
along. Have this reputation to pander to and all."

Daniel laughed, and Clark felt a pang of sympathy and

shame when Daniel's voice broke in the middle. His right
hand closed on Clark's, gripping it roughly before he loosened
his hold.

"Yeah. At least with me you won't have to worry about

that anymore."

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Clark stared at their joined hands and marveled as every

single cell in his being sat up and took notice of the simple
touch. He licked his lips. "Oh good," he said. "So next time
things get bad, I can call you to come pick me up off the
sidewalk?" He tried to keep the words light, but they came
out soft and earnest.

"Yes," Daniel said, just as softly. "I'll get to you, no matter

where you are or when."

The GPS announced their arrival. Clark glanced out the

window at the warehouse, quiet as Daniel parked.

"Please, Clark," Daniel pleaded. "Don't try and get out until

I'm at the passenger door? You've probably stiffened with the
ride."

Clark squeezed Daniel's hand, touched by the concern. He

bit back the hundred responses that came to mind about how
he could manage himself, that this wasn't the first time he'd
been hurt, that it was minor and Daniel should really stop
worrying so much. Instead, he opted to let the man help;
Clark's knee was stiff. He didn't need to move it to know that.

"Okay," Clark said quietly.
Daniel pressed Clark's hand before letting go. He got out of

the car to come around and open the door. Bemused at all
the fuss, Clark got out with relative ease, compensating for
the stiff knee by balancing more on his other leg. In truth,
he'd hurt himself worse from not stretching properly before
he went for a run, but it was nice that Daniel cared; that
enticing sort of sweet again.

"All good, Doc," Clark said. "I think I'm going to live." He

flashed a grin at the man on the other side of the car door.

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Daniel laughed. "Good, I'm glad to hear it." He stood back,

giving Clark room.

"Up we go, then," Clark said, walking to the side of the

building and pausing to wait on Daniel. "It's just one flight of
stairs, or are you going to make me take the elevator?" Clark
cocked a brow, feeling easier with the banter.

"Make you," muttered Daniel. "As if I could make you do

anything." He shook his head and grinned at Clark. "Stairs
are supposed to be good for you, but if you don't mind, I'll be
behind you."

Clark reached for his keys and surprised himself by

shooting a playful smirk over one shoulder. "You know, I
don't mind you behind me," he said to Daniel, mouth
twitching. Daniel snorted, and Clark let the comment lie in its
bed of innuendo. It was just flirting, like they did back at the
bar when they first met. No harm, no foul.

Clark got the door unlocked and stepped into the

entryway. He headed for the stairs directly in front of them,
ignoring the elevator on the right. The old warehouse had
been converted into housing just a few years ago, part of a
city renovation project.

When they reached the second floor, Clark sorted through

his keys again. Having Daniel behind him was nice, all joking
aside. This was the calmest he'd ever been after an attack; it
was nothing short of miraculous, really.

Clark got the locks undone and stepped into his loft, arm

braced to hold the heavy steel door for Daniel. The apartment
was a good space with lots of light. It opened up along the
length of the building, the external wall was exposed red

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brick, and two-story windows shot up to the high ceiling. It'd
been a bitch to get coverings for them, but he managed, with
Jeffrey's assistance, to find heavy, dark green drapes and
cords that let Clark block the sunlight.

Both Jeffrey and Heather had helped Clark decorate, and

he was grateful for their advice. The loft was now divided into
areas, the kitchen being the first, across the loft. Beside the
kitchen was an industrial table standing on a rug. Beyond that
was the seating area, couch facing the interior plaster wall
and a large flat-screen TV perched on a stand. At the back of
the loft, an antique screen divided the space again, blocking
the view of the bedroom, which held a king bed, dresser,
nightstand, and mirror. The bathroom was in the far back
corner next to the bedroom.

Letting the door fall closed, Clark bent to unlace his shoes

and yank them off before flicking a switch that turned on the
lights. "Come on in," he said to Daniel.

Daniel stepped inside and sat down to take off his boots,

setting them next to Clark's. He stood and looked around.
"This is really nice," he said. "You'd never know this was here
from the outside."

"Thanks." Clark chuckled and walked on sock-covered feet

toward the back of the apartment. "Make yourself at home,
just want to get out of this," Clark said as he plucked at his
vest. He'd soaked it through with sweat, and it was starting to
itch.

"All right." Daniel said from the kitchen. Clark shut the

bathroom door, flicked on the light, and sank back against the
wood to take stock. Bodily, he wasn't too bad: slightly shaky,

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but nothing Gatorade and rest wouldn't fix. No nausea, which
was fantastic. Sometimes Clark spent hours in the hell
between sick and well after an episode. His head vaguely
ached, but he thought the Gatorade would help that, too. His
knee hurt, but it wasn't bad, and there was no eye pain—
another miracle—and no residual phantom pain, either. It was
a night of blessings, apparently.

Pushing off from the door, Clark turned to lean on the sink.

Behind him was a shower with a glass door and a soaking
tub. A mirror above the sink showed Clark a bit pale but not
too worse for the wear.

Ripping off the vest, Clark set it on the hamper between

sink and toilet. He turned on the water and grabbed a towel
off a rack. As he gave himself a sponge bath, he considered
what in the hell to do with Daniel. In truth, he should tell the
man to go. Clark was going to be fine, could manage himself
from here.

But images of a whiskey bottle and cold eyes gave Clark

pause. If Daniel left, would the stability go with him?
Surprisingly, Clark thought it would. It was probably nothing
more than having someone else upon whom to focus, but
knowing Daniel was on the other side of that door made Clark
want to avoid liquor for the night. Do better by himself.

Clark splashed water on his face and held his breath as it

dripped. Finally he shut off the water and wiped down. He
caught himself in the middle of reapplying deodorant and
wondered what in the hell he thought was going to happen,
exactly. He could ask Daniel to stay, maybe. Tell him he felt
shaky and wanted to make sure another attack wasn't in the

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works. That was true; it'd get Daniel to wait around, which
was something Clark wanted. A lot. The confusion he felt
apparently did nothing to alleviate the want Clark felt for
Daniel.

Clark's head gave a throb, and his knee echoed the

sentiment.

First things first: get Advil. Then figure out what to do with

the rest.

Linear plan established, Clark yanked off his watch and

socks, tossed them on top of the vest, and left the bathroom
to head for the kitchen and the drawer where he kept
medicine. He didn't think about his half-dressed state or the
pits and pockmark scars that it revealed until he was in the
living room, and by then it was too late to turn around and
find a shirt.

Truly, nothing was simple when the professor was in the

damned mix.

Daniel straightened as Clark approached, eyes wide,

scanning, assessing, and tracing patterns. Clark managed not
to trip over his own feet under the weight of the intense,
dark-blue gaze, but it was a near thing. Clark went around
the horseshoe counter, making sure he didn't knock into one
of the bar stools. Licking his lips, he got out the Advil, shaking
two pills into his hand before tossing the bottle back and
shutting the drawer with his hip. He moved over to the fridge,
trying not to eye Daniel but not quite succeeding as he
opened the door and retrieved a bottle of Gatorade. Letting
the door shut, Clark leaned against the counter.

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"I... there's... right," Clark said intelligently, frowning at

himself. He swallowed the pills and found he had no clue what
to say, which was utter lunacy as Clark always had something
to say. He drank from the bottle and stared at the floor,
brows knitted together.

"Can I... touch them?" Daniel asked quietly. "The scars.

I'm assuming they don't hurt anymore, but..."

Clark was glad the floor was the recipient of his shocked

look instead of Daniel. The request made the blood flow
harder in his veins, some heading south, and he was shocked
yet again by how easily he responded to Daniel.

Looking up, Clark tried to school his face. He set down the

bottle and shrugged one bare shoulder. "No, they don't hurt...
so... yeah. If you want to." Clark didn't have time to kick
himself for the stumbling permission. He had to focus on
telling his eager body to calm down.

Daniel approached, breathing slow and steady, and

reached forward to brush his fingertips along the spray of
marks, leaning in to study the scars. He set his whole hand
against Clark's skin, palm smoothing the lines and across
Clark's flexing abs.

"Came from this side, hm?" Daniel asked.
"Yeah," Clark said, voice low and rough. This close, Clark

could smell Daniel: sweat, musk, and that distracting scent
that was a combination of soap, shampoo, and aftershave.
Clark's skin lit up in the wake of Daniel's touch, and he took
small, shallow breaths so as not to dislodge the hand on his
side.

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This was crazy. Hundreds of men, and this one made Clark

feel like he'd never been touched. Rendered him immobile
and turned his brain into a mix of caution and curiosity and
lust. His heart beat loudly in his ears, and he held still.

Daniel's lips pressed together, expression darkening, and

Clark started to panic, wanting to apologize or say something.
Daniel sighed, half-hearted and forced.

"They say scars are like tattoos but have better stories. I

dunno, these..." Daniel brushed his hand over the spray
again, "...they just seem like one really painful story."

Feeling dizzy from lack of oxygen, Clark finally let out a

shaky breath. He worried, struggled to understand, to know
what to do, to make things easier or better or somehow right.
But it was like no matter what he did, he couldn't please this
man, which was nuts. All Clark wanted to do was kiss Daniel
until they couldn't breathe, and Clark wasn't sure he would
care what happened after that. It broke his rules, but Daniel
was the—

Clark blinked.
Exception. He's the exception. Brian was the first, and this

man is the second.

The realization was a whirlwind in Clark's mind, stealing

both words and thoughts away. He felt himself relax against
the counter, and his hand came up to touch Daniel's side. He
swallowed and rubbed a line over the shirt and the ink-
covered skin beneath it. Clark could feel Daniel's eyes on him,
but Clark just couldn't make himself meet the gaze.

Daniel didn't make a sound, but he stepped closer, slowly.

Reeling in the aftermath of self-discovery, Clark brought up

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both his hands to rub at Daniel's lower back. Daniel felt so
damned good. Clark's breathing sped up. He turned his head
to brush his lips so lightly over Daniel's neck that for a second
Clark wasn't sure he'd made contact. Then Daniel's breathing
stuttered, and Clark's eyes lost focus.

Exception. That's it. My God. I don't just want him; I think

I need him. And it's so bad I couldn't even see it.

"Daniel..." Clark whispered and hugged the man to him.

He struggled. He needed to say something—say it now before
it was way too late. He remembered Daniel's words in the car.
Apparently, Daniel had just as hard a time reading Clark as
Clark did reading the professor.

Then Clark got distracted as Daniel wrapped his arms

around Clark, fitting them together body to body. He bent his
head to brush Clark's hair, and as the silence stretched, he
whispered, "Yes?"

Clark blinked slowly, eyes staring at nothing. His legs

shook, and he knew that was all Daniel and nothing to do
with the attack. Clark was terrified, he was turned on, and he
was desperate.

If he didn't say it now, he never, ever would.
Clark moved so his mouth was next to Daniel's ear, and he

spoke so softly that someone two feet away couldn't have
made out the words.

"I think... I know what you want of me." Clark closed his

eyes. Darkness helped. "And I think I can—want—to do that
with you. For you. Give that to you." Clark frowned at the
choice of words, but pushed on. "But you have to know that
it's not the physical part that bothers me, it's the... I've..."

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Clark shuddered hard, thinking about Brian's face when he
smiled and trying not to think about how it looked when he
died.

"There's only been one," Clark confessed. "One anything.

And he's dead. I saw him die. So if you want this from me,
then it can't be..." Clark's voice broke. "It's not light or easy.
So if you want easy, then, God, please, just go..." Clark's
hands clutched at Daniel reflexively, showing he didn't want
that. He felt Daniel go still in his grasp. When he stopped
speaking and searched for words—for the courage to say
them—Daniel's hold on Clark changed, palms opening and
soothing against Clark's too-warm skin. Clark slowly exhaled.

"But if it's more, then stay." Clark swallowed. "Please, Sir.

Stay."

Daniel shuddered. "I want you. So badly I can't see

straight, and nothing's been easy with you." Daniel laughed
breathlessly. "What I'm trying to say is, damnit, yes, I'll stay,
and I'll hold you and keep you as best I'm able."

Clark froze and then sighed, a long, shaky, and stunned

"Oooh." He kissed Daniel's neck, urgent, and went limp
enough that his feet slid on the tile. Daniel's arms caught
him, wrapping Clark in a tight embrace. Daniel pressed him
against the counter so that they wouldn't fall. Groin to groin,
Daniel ground into Clark.

With their body weight now supported by something other

than just his arms, Daniel moved his hands into Clark's hair,
where his fingers gripped tightly. He turned Clark's head to
face him.

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Caught in anticipatory breathlessness, the men looked at

one another, lips parted. Then Daniel bent to kiss Clark. It
wasn't a gentle or a seductive kiss; it was a desperate, hard,
near-attack on Clark's mouth with lips, teeth, and tongue.
Clark's mind went blank, blissfully devoid of doubt, fear, or
anything other than his neurons firing over sensation. He
wanted, he needed, and God, this heaven was on fire. And
Clark wanted more.

Clark gave as good as he got. He bit, licked, sucked, and

pulled at Daniel's mouth. Clark's hands clutched Daniel for
dear life and sanity. All Clark wanted was to prove with his
body that he meant what he said, would give all he could, and
would follow where Daniel led him.

Daniel broke the kiss and said, "Clark, please show me

your bedroom, or I'm going to take you right here."

[Back to Table of Contents]

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136

Chapter 7

Blades of need lanced through Clark's body, and he

steamed the air between their faces with fast, hot breaths.
The body against his felt perfect and necessary, and Daniel's
words made him flush. Clark pressed his lips together and
nodded, pushing away from the counter so he could stand.
And walk. And get Daniel to his bed.

Clark shuddered, and he made a quiet sound that rumbled

in his chest. Fingers reluctantly letting go of Daniel's clothing,
he followed the line of Daniel's arm to catch one of the
professor's hands. Clark felt that if he stopped touching this
man for a single second, then Daniel might disappear, and
the stability and glimpse of something that felt so right would
vanish.

Moving on silent feet, Clark gently tugged Daniel through

the apartment and into the back of the loft. One of the tall
windows took up the wall to their left, the heavy drapes tied
back and letting in city light that illuminated the room. The
bed was neatly made, the surfaces clean except for a
cluttered nightstand. Clark turned to look at Daniel. His eyes
slid from face to chest to tattoo to groin and then slowly
moved back up. He squeezed Daniel's hand.

Stepping to the nightstand, Daniel flicked on the small

lamp without letting go of Clark. "I love it when you look at
me that way. Help me get undressed? I want more of your
hands on my skin."

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Clark hummed in the back of his throat, thinking he

couldn't remember ever wanting someone this much in his
life. The change in himself was swift and sure, making his
breath and heart race, but it felt so right and so easy when he
was touching Daniel that he focused on the professor entirely,
letting the other man's presence chase away doubt.

"Okay," Clark said, as he rubbed his hands up Daniel's

bare arms and focused on the way the skin felt under his
touch, loving its warmth and the strength it covered.

With a quiet intake of breath, Clark stroked Daniel's

shoulders before slipping down his chest. Clark looked up to
Daniel's face, saw that the professor's eyes were closed and
his lips slightly parted. Clark let his fingertips catch the ring
through Daniel's nipple and softly grunted when Daniel's
breathing stuttered.

Clark's eyes traced the lines of the koi tattoo, and he

tugged at the hem of the shirt before pulling it over Daniel's
head. The shirt fell to the floor, and Clark's hands were back
on Daniel's skin immediately, fingertips tracing sides.

"Yes," Daniel whispered. "Just like that... keep touching

me," he added in a firmer voice, "And go slow. If you go down
on your knees for my pants, just... slow, please."

Clark kneaded skin and flashed a smile. "Yes, Sir," he said,

humor wrapped around the two words. They were surprisingly
easy to say to this man, especially when he felt Daniel
shudder again.

Daniel gritted his teeth and shook his head. "From you...

after all I've been through getting to you..." He shivered

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again and caressed Clark's jaw. Clark blinked, and his eyes
went down, unsure how to react or what to say.

Daniel caught Clark's chin. "Having you call me 'Sir' makes

it all worth it."

Clark sighed and relaxed again. In the back of his mind, he

thought that tomorrow morning was going to be an
interesting and possibly painful experience, but for now there
was just this, and the touch felt as good as everything else
Daniel did. He leaned into Daniel before carefully going down
on one knee. He kissed the skin at Daniel's waist, tasting the
inked flesh with the tip of his tongue. Daniel put both hands
on Clark's shoulders, and Clark wrapped an arm around to
brace Daniel's back, licking a slow, slick line across Daniel's
stomach while he began undoing the pants.

Daniel gasped, and Clark silently vowed to do anything to

hear that sound again. As he managed to get the complicated
ties and zipper undone, he nipped at the skin over the koi and
felt one of Daniel's hands in his hair, cradling the back of his
head. Daniel's other hand stayed on Clark's shoulder as Clark
grasped the leather and began working it down with both
hands, finally freeing Daniel's hard on.

"Oh..." Clark said softly, unable to help himself as he

caught sight of the dusky-colored, thick cock next to his face.
He made fast work of the pants and socks. Then he placed a
kiss over Daniel's hipbone, one hand sliding to knead the skin
at the base of Daniel's spine and the other lightly touching
the back of Daniel's thigh. His heart hammered and his blood
sang with want—the urge to touch, taste, have, hold, and
feel.

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Clark stood and hugged Daniel, clutching and kissing and

not caring that he made desperate sounds. His cock
demanded attention. Clark felt too hot, like he might come
out of his skin.

And he loved it. Would have begged—for something,

anything—if he could only have found the words.

* * * *

Daniel ate up Clark's sounds with a hunger that made him

ache. Between Adam's ministrations at Break and Clark's
touch now, he knew he wasn't going to last long once they
got started, but he wanted to give Clark what he could. He
laid soft kisses on Clark's eyelids and forehead. "Get on the
bed and lie back, Clark."

Clark complied, slowly lowering himself onto the mattress,

eyes catching Daniel's and abs flexing under the scarred skin.

Smiling, Daniel held Clark's gaze with his own, hands

seeking warmth. Daniel took one of Clark's palms and pressed
a kiss in the center of it. "I'm a little torn. I think you'd enjoy
yourself more if you kept your hands behind your head and
let me work, but I'm all right with you touching me. Just be
gentle on my scalp if you catch my hair?"

Clark made a tender sound, gaze softening. He brushed

the hair back from Daniel's forehead, fingers tracing the skin.
Daniel's eyes widened when Clark touched the jagged line at
the edge of Daniel's scalp. Clark rose to kiss Daniel's temple
with a brush of lips, and Daniel's breathing shook.

He knows

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"I'll be careful with you," Clark said against Daniel's skin,

then rested again on the bed, one hand still stroking Daniel's
hair.

Sudden tears spilled down Daniel's cheeks. He bent to kiss

Clark's belly, his hand trailing along Clark's side. He knew his
breathing was ragged, but he couldn't hide that. Daniel had
no idea why Clark's tenderness shook him. His parents'
murder had been twenty-eight years ago, and he'd dealt with
it. He wasn't that ten-year-old who had nearly died with
them.

Daniel let each kiss linger, stayed to tongue the dip of

Clark's navel, and nipped at smooth skin until he reached the
waistband of Clark's pants. Clark's breathing picked up pace,
and his body rolled with Daniel's touches. But when Clark
reached down to stroke his hand over the side of Daniel's
face, his fingertips brushed the wetness on Daniel's cheek,
and Clark's breath left in a visceral rush.

"Daniel," Clark whispered, pained and needy. "Come

here... please come here..." Clark gently pulled on Daniel's
arm.

Daniel tried to curl in on himself, to keep his confusion and

uncertainty from showing, but at the pained sound of Clark's
voice, he felt something snap. This wasn't a contract; this
was something else. His brain worked furiously on why Clark's
touch and voice could so undo him. He wasn't that ten-year-
old, no, but he was the thirty-eight-year-old who had grown
from that experience. Grown into someone who hated being
out of control, who didn't let himself be seen, even when he
was on a stage making another man moan, and hadn't been

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seen like this by anyone other than the family who had taken
him in and loved him when he was small and vulnerable.

Daniel's clients saw a fantasy come true. His students only

saw the cool, working professor. Clark saw him as he'd seen
Clark on the sidewalk—with concern and care, not...

Maybe this isn't vulnerability. Maybe this is letting

someone love you.

Daniel sighed and gave in to Clark's pull. He moved up

Clark's body, wiped away his tears as best he could, and
sighed as more followed, beyond his control.

Arms wrapped around Daniel, and Clark rolled them to

their sides. Clark pressed them together, one leg hooking
over Daniel's hip and one hand slipping to cradle Daniel's
skull. Gently, Clark began kissing away the tears, fingers
caressing Daniel's neck and through his hair. Daniel held
Clark, his eyes closing, his breathing shaky.

"You know," Daniel whispered. "You knew where to look."
Clark nodded before pulling back to run his thumb over

Daniel's eyelid. "I know," he said softly. "Wanted to see,
touch. Try to erase the hurt. So help me, Daniel, nothing will
hurt you like that ever again. I... couldn't stand it." Clark ran
a hand over Daniel's back and kissed his forehead.

With the promise and the kiss, Daniel looked at Clark and

saw tear-filled eyes. He sighed and kissed Clark back before
he said, "Now you know how I feel about you losing the one
you loved. I wish... I wish I could just erase your pain, too."

* * * *

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Clark kissed Daniel with a slow slide of lips to keep

thoughts at bay; touching Daniel made images of the past
fade into unimportance. "You help," he said against Daniel's
mouth. "You..."

Unable to say that, thanks to Daniel, Clark was pain-free,

sober, and clear-headed, he kissed Daniel again. Clark didn't
care about physiological anything; the only difference
between this attack and the others was Daniel, and thus,
Daniel made it easier.

With a quiet sound and a soft suck of Daniel's lip, Clark

reached and got his pants undone, pushing them down as the
need to feel Daniel against him overrode all else.

Daniel slid along his side and got an arm free to help. He

released Clark's cock and smiled, bending to kiss a wide,
discolored scar on Clark's thigh before working the clothing
over Clark's legs. Once everything was clear, Daniel moved
back up, and Clark struggled for air.

"Daniel... please..." Clark whisper-groaned, eyes squeezing

shut and one hand grasping Daniel's arm.

"What, Clark?" Daniel asked, concerned.
"You... block it out." Clark didn't think he could clarify "it."

Instead, he got his eyes open, fixing Daniel in a heated stare.
"Just want you... mouth, hand, fingers, cock, I don't care...
just... God, Daniel please."

Daniel rolled, reached for the lube on the nightstand,

snagged one of the pillows, and pushed Clark onto his back.
Clark went willingly, looking up at eyes dark-shot with lust.

Daniel touched the back of Clark's legs, and Clark lifted up

off the bed. Daniel stuffed the pillow under Clark's lower back,

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got his shoulders under Clark's knees, and bent to lick the
soft skin between Clark's entrance and balls. Clark gasped a
syllable of shock and need, and his thoughts flickered like a
TV with bad reception. "Oh," he whispered, wrist coming up
to cover his eyes. "Oh..."

Daniel made a greedy sound and licked back down to tease

Clark with his tongue, stroking out from the center, probing
each time. With every warm dip of Daniel's tongue, Clark's
cock twitched. Moisture pooled at the tip, and Clark knotted
the sheet in his fist. He sucked air into his lungs, and each
exhale stuttered. It'd been so long since he let anyone do
this—

Oh God, that feels... so...
—and this was Daniel between his legs, making his pulse

race, his cock ache, and encouraging the heat to lance
through him in a building inferno.

Shit, he's going to... oh fuck, I want him. So bad... so, so

bad...

Clark didn't do this, but he wanted it. He didn't let himself

need such things, but he was desperate.

The tears, his words, how he said he'd... stay. And keep

Daniel's tongue probed harder, and the pressure and damp

heat at the most private of places made Clark shudder hard
enough to rock the bed. Daniel's hands caressed the backs of
Clark's thighs, and Daniel grasped Clark's cock. His thumb slid
on the slickness of pre-come, stroking Clark's slit, and his
tongue slid into Clark's ass.

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"Shit," Clark hissed, body jerking. The large muscles in his

thighs spasmed, and he felt his legs spread wider of their own
volition. "Oh... God. It's been... so damned long..." Clark
babbled in a low rush, his hips moving to encourage Daniel's
hand on his shaft.

Daniel hummed, a pleased sound of acknowledgement,

and he closed his forefinger and thumb around Clark's cock,
gliding the tight ring over the top third. He licked up to Clark's
balls, mouthing them gently as he stroked. With his free
hand, Daniel started patting the covers.

"Nnn-yeah," Clark breathed, and it turned into a groan.

The familiar slip into mere sensation pulled Clark down. His
head fell to one side while his hands moved under his head,
mindful of what Daniel might like and wanting... just wanting.
He bit back a cry when Daniel traced a line up the underside
of Clark's cock with a wet tongue, and Daniel's firm fingers
continued their slow glide. Clark kept his gaze down, and his
mouth fell open when Daniel's lips closed over the tip, tongue
roughly stroking the head, dipping into the slit and moving
on. Clark couldn't stop the noise he made. His head tossed
when Daniel groaned and moved to take his cock more
deeply.

"Yeah — oh fuck — yeah," Clark encouraged, fingers

locking together under his head in a white-knuckled clench.
He managed to keep his hips still, but his breathing kicked up
another notch as he heard the cap of the lube click open. The
thought of Daniel fucking him made Clark grunt, brow
furrowing as his dry lips parted to gasp.

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Daniel moaned again before he dragged his lips off Clark's

cock, and their eyes locked.

"Clark, seeing you do what I asked," Daniel whispered

roughly, leaning into Clark's legs. "God..." His shoulders
rocked in a shiver as he spilled lube over his fingers. He laid
the bottle down on the covers, then circled Clark's cock again.
Daniel's breathing was slower than Clark's, but not by much.

Clark swallowed just before cool, slicked fingers touched

his anus, and Daniel teased sensitive skin. Clark's back
arched off the bed, and he dug his heels into the mattress as
he rolled his head to meet Daniel's gaze.

"Yeah..." Clark said, voice low and rough. "Just..." It was

too hard to finish the sentence, so Clark nodded, head tossing
to the side as Daniel's hands teased his cock and entrance at
the same time. The heat in his blood throbbed harder, and
Clark heard his pulse like a steady, repeating plea in his own
ears.

Daniel pushed with one finger against the taut ring of

muscle, Clark felt it give, and Daniel's finger slid within.
"Just?" Daniel asked softly, and pumped the single, slender
digit, crooked to brush against Clark's prostate.

Clark's body tensed, and he groaned at the invasion. More,

more, more, his need sang, and he loved that everything
shrank; the world got smaller and all that existed was the
bed, Daniel, and instants marked in sweaty seconds and lust.
Clark struggled for words, didn't find them, and instead
looked at Daniel.

Chuckling, Daniel answered by sliding first two and then

three fingers into Clark in quick succession. He started a

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steady rhythm, stroking Clark's inner heat. His hand on
Clark's cock moved more surely, and he bent to the head,
eager tongue tasting. Clark lost track of what his body did or
his mouth said. Seconds, days, hours—Clark didn't know.
Time ceased to be important, along with everything else but
what his body could feel. His hands unlocked and clutched
violently at the pillow beneath him.

"So good..." Heat swirled low and hot in Clark's gut and

behind his balls. "Christ," Clark croaked as his spine stiffened
into an arch. "Mmm-ah!"

It was a perfect assault on his insides: quick and invasive

and delicious. The mouth working on his cock made his mind
and lips go numb. "Daniel... God..." Clark moaned, shivering.
"Can't..." His body rolled, his eyes squeezed shut, and the
quest for the end game made him want more.

"Please..." Clark panted. "Please... please..."
Daniel dragged his lips off Clark's cock. "God, you're

driving me completely insane," Daniel said, panting and
dripping with sweat. "Condom," he gasped, and hugged
Clark's leg as he withdrew his fingers, lunging for the
nightstand.

Clark groaned and shook while Daniel searched for latex.

"Top drawer," Clark managed to say, before he rose and
circled arms around Daniel's straining torso. He kissed,
nibbled, and sucked any skin he could find, one hand
dropping lower to squeeze Daniel's ass. Daniel shuddered,
hips moving. Then he started laughing as he finally ripped
open a box and yanked one of the packets from the string.

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"Oh God, Clark, you're killing me," Daniel said, as he

twisted back and slid on top of Clark. He kissed Clark's lips,
tongue stroking and hips grinding against Clark's, both their
straining hard ons between them.

Clark grinned and bit Daniel's lower lip, pulling it between

his teeth. "Fair's fuckin' fair," Clark growled, and bucked back
against Daniel, hands reaching to grab twin handfuls of flesh
and force-roll Daniel into the grind.

Daniel arched and moaned, pulling back to get free. He

pushed up, hands flat on the mattress, and ducked his head
to drag his teeth over Clark's nipple, his tongue working the
tip. Clark's breath caught and then exhaled in a sighing
rumble. He dragged blunted nails over Daniel's back and side,
toying with Daniel's piercing again. He pinched and pulled,
mind redlining and body in a fever of anticipation and need.

"C'mon..." Clark husked. "Before I just throw you down

and ride you, everything be damned."

Daniel ripped apart the packet and covered himself with a

few expert motions. He found the lube, clicked it open, and
poured it generously onto his cock, slicking himself. Moving
fast, Daniel lifted Clark's legs onto Daniel's shoulders, pressed
his tip to Clark's entrance, and leaned forward, all his weight
behind his cock.

Clark's breathing went chaotic and tinged with soft

syllables of lust. There was too much to feel. Focus and
thought broke, and the pieces flew apart in a scattered spray.

"Oh fuck... ooooh fuck..." Head going back and eyes

slipping closed, Clark reached up and wrapped one hand

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around the back of Daniel's neck. The other fisted into the
sheet and yanked, the fabric pulling free with the force.

Daniel groaned, sinking slow and deep into Clark's body,

inch by inch. He didn't stop until he was seated all the way to
the root of his cock. Clark's body wanted to move, curl,
reject, and find more, all at the same time. He panted with
his head back, and God but he loved this: filled, fucked,
taken, pressed, and pinned. His body was Daniel's, and he
remembered his love and hate at being so full. He gritted his
teeth and willed his muscles to accept and relax.

Arms wrapping and holding onto the trembling man above

him, fingertips digging into any skin they could find for
purchase, Clark moaned, long and low. "God... yeah... oh...
Daniel... ooh..." he said between rushing breaths.

As Clark's body unclenched, Daniel began to move, short,

hard strokes, and he gasped, "Clark... ah... God..." before
freeing one hand to wrap around Clark's cock and pulling
rough and fast.

"Fuck!" Clark called, voice echoing off the ceiling. Daniel's

cock dragged with perfect precision, and the nearly cruel
hand on his length made heat boil and surge through his body
with stunning force. Clark felt shoved toward release, body
getting there so quickly that he felt dizzy and out of his mind.

"Daniel," Clark gasped. "Oh, holy shit." The words were

high-pitched, and he shook all over, legs tensing and insides
clenching, making things burn and ache and tighten in ways
that pushed Clark even closer to the edge.

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"Please, oh, fuck me, God, yeah," Clark babbled, hands

sliding over slicked skin and body pulsing, moving, and
needing relief so badly it obliterated sanity.

Daniel moved faster, harder, shifting back so that his

urgent motions toward release would hit Clark's prostate with
each jolt. Clark jerked as he tightened in involuntary prelude,
and Daniel cried out, hand working Clark's length with vicious
speed.

"Come on, Clark. Come. Oh God... Fuck!" Daniel snarled,

and Clark made a strangled sound. Daniel's strain, the near-
desperate command, the feel of Daniel inside him and the
friction on his cock: it all rushed headlong toward the edge.
The sensations demanded reaction, screamed for it, and
Clark's body went taut. He sucked in a labored breath, let go
of a startled grunt, and his eyes squeezed shut as the orgasm
ripped through him.

Daniel bucked into Clark's shuddering body and cried out

as his orgasm smashed through his control. He collapsed on
top of Clark and lay there, panting against Clark's chest.
Clark's lungs pulled in a long drag of air, remembering how to
breathe. Daniel's weight was sticky, warm, pleasant, but
Daniel adjusted as Clark gingerly got his legs down, spreading
akimbo, and rested a hand on his lover's back.

Daniel hummed on one of his gradually slowing, panting

breaths. He rubbed his cheek against Clark's shoulder and
sighed.

Clark traced light patterns with the tips of his fingers

across Daniel's skin, eyes closed and pulse finally starting to

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slow. He felt his way up Daniel's arm and tucked a piece of
wet, curling hair behind Daniel's ear, smiling to himself.

"Stay tonight," Clark rumbled.

* * * *

Daniel's eyes widened in surprise. He never stayed.
This isn't one of your jobs, Daniel.
He relaxed and nodded against Clark's shoulder. "I'd...

yes. Thank you."

Clark turned his head, eyebrow cocked. "Good. Would've

been a pain to tie you to the bed for the rest of the night," he
said, voice a hoarser, lower, version of his usual tone.

Contentment now pooling in his belly, Daniel hugged the

solid body below his. "You have the most interesting approach
to submission I've ever come across, Clark."

"Just thinking and doing what's best for you, Sir," Clark

said, with a lazy grin. He hugged Daniel with one arm, the
other hand smoothing back and through Daniel's hair.

"Mm... yes," Daniel said. "You are amazing, and when you

give... God..." He shuddered.

Clark hummed. "That's..." He shrugged. "I think I knew

when I met you what you could be. For me." He smiled. "An
exception. And I'm happy to give you anything you want,
Daniel."

Daniel knew Clark's words were true, and the evidence of

that truth surrounded him: the scent in the air, the feel of
slick and tack between their bodies, and the ache he felt in
his shoulders and back. "You amaze me." He sighed and lifted

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himself slowly, leaving Clark's body with a soft groan. "Uhm...
shower? Or should I get towels or something?"

Clark winced. "Shower," he said immediately. "Can't sleep

well when I'm a mess."

Daniel got off the bed, ignoring shaking legs and stiffening

muscles. Tossing the condom in the garbage, Daniel turned to
watch Clark get off the bed. Clark moved slowly, stretching
his back as he stood. He chuckled at Daniel's watchful gaze,
and as he walked by, he swatted Daniel playfully on the ass.

"Not broken, Professor. Just stiff." Clark headed for the

bathroom.

"Clark," Daniel said in warning.
"Hm?" Clark said, turning to look over his shoulder. And he

froze. "Yes?"

Walking up to Clark, Daniel kept his face very still. "Turn

just a bit. I'm glad to know you're not broken, but..."

Clark blinked and obeyed with a frown.
Daniel swatted Clark across his tender ass. "I know you

don't even treat your barmaid like that, so please don't do
that to me."

Clark's frown deepened, and Daniel awaited an outburst or

a protest with dread. Instead, Clark licked his lips. "I'm
sorry," he said quietly. "Sir."

Sighing, Daniel suddenly felt tired. "Thank you," he

acknowledged, and bit his lip on an apology. He felt like he
had just kicked an adoring puppy.

Clark slowly reached out to clasp Daniel's hand. "Come

on... shower..." His voice was soft, and he gently tugged
Daniel toward the bathroom. Clark didn't let go until he had

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to open the shower door and turn on the water. He leaned
against the glass with his fingers under the spray as it
warmed up.

Watching Clark, Daniel felt dazed. He closed his eyes as

the rush and flow of the evening went through his head. It
felt so good to be with Clark that the small correction made
him worry about damaging what they had. And now Daniel
was going to do something he hadn't done in a long time:
sleep with someone, stay with them after sex, and maybe
even wake up with them and talk over breakfast or
something. He wasn't sure what would happen, but he
wanted to find out. Even if it scared him half to death.

Clark adjusted the temperature, stepped to hold the door

wider with his back, and held out a hand to Daniel. "It's
warm."

Taking Clark's hand, Daniel sighed. "I'm glad."
Clark brushed their lips together. Daniel delighted in the

taste of Clark's mouth, his easy strength, his compliance with
Daniel's control. Gone were the games, the masks, and the
barriers that had kept him—no—kept them at arm's length.

The idea of "together" had seemed impossible at Break.

But now impossible pressed against him, and Daniel wanted—
needed—so badly he ached. His mind turned over and
discarded dozens of things he'd done with others. None of
them could even match this kiss. Maybe it wasn't the action
or the technique; maybe it was just the man.

Clark climbed into the shower when Daniel released him.

"Glad for what?" Clark asked sleepily, stepping under the
spray. "Warm water?"

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"Mm... yes. And that you asked me to stay." Daniel found

the soap and rubbed lather over Clark's back.

"I'm happy you agreed," Clark said, bracing his hands on

the wall. He ducked his head, and water ran through his hair
to the tiled floor. "You could stay for days on end and I'd be
fine with it. But I understand if you're attached to your own
bed and to-do list." He laughed nervously. "I'm kidding, of
course," he added, words barely audible. "Unless you don't
want me to be."

"Well, for the weekend, the lists can take care of

themselves," Daniel answered. "I don't even want to think
about Monday." Daniel got another handful of soap and
cleaned Clark's backside and lean legs, lingering on the
insides of his thighs.

Clark's hands made fists on the tile. "I'll call Heather at the

bar; explain I need some time and make arrangements."
Clark sighed as Daniel cleaned all traces of their lovemaking.
The gray-haired man didn't say another word. Daniel liked it
when Clark remained still, but he loved it when Clark shivered
beneath his hands.

Eventually Clark straightened and looked at Daniel over

one shoulder, blinking water away and reaching behind him to
grip Daniel's hips. Daniel swayed, and he rested against
Clark's back.

"Mm," Clark murmured, turning to face Daniel, hands still

on the other man's hips. His touch was light, and when he
lowered his face to Daniel's, Clark's mouth hovered over
Daniel's lips. Clark's body asked permission, heavy-lidded
eyes searching Daniel's.

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Daniel's breath caught. He reached for the kiss, surprising

himself with the soft sound of need he made as their lips
made contact. He really was tired.

With a long exhale through his nose, Clark closed his eyes

and kissed Daniel, a slow exploration of texture and tongue.
While his mouth worked, Clark took the soap and slid it up
Daniel's back. Daniel shivered. There was nothing in the world
but the kiss, the feel of body against body, and the water
sluicing over skin. Daniel's hands moved to Clark's chest for
balance, and he kissed back, feeling Clark's slow, languorous
touches soothe his sore body. Everything felt so good, and he
let himself rest in Clark's care.

With a contented sound, Clark rubbed soap over damp skin

and kneaded along Daniel's spine with probing fingers. Daniel
pressed closer, and Clark sighed when Daniel's shoulders
relaxed. Clark kissed and tasted while he worked, and when
Daniel's hands roamed, Clark pulled Daniel's lower lip
between his own to suckle and nibble. Clark finally broke
away from Daniel's mouth to kiss his jaw and along his neck
while soaping the planes of Daniel's chest and stomach.

"Taste so good," Clark murmured, sprinkling slow-press

kisses behind Daniel's ear. Daniel tilted his head to allow
Clark access, even though some part of him warned that this
was dangerous, that he should resist, stop Clark from being
so familiar and intimate. But Daniel trusted Clark, so he made
his body relax.

Carefully, Clark eased Daniel toward the wall. "Just going

to wash your legs," he whispered. "Lean back. You won't slip.
I've got you."

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Daniel rested against the cool, hard surface, and he

trembled. Clark made a tender noise, and Daniel swallowed
old fear and let old resistance slide down the drain.

"Thank you," Clark said against Daniel's neck, then busied

himself with the task of soap and water. He washed Daniel's
arms while his mouth kissed Daniel's shoulders, chest, and
collarbone. He kept one hand steady on Daniel's body at all
times.

When he was finished with the upper body, Clark sank into

a crouch, resting on his heels instead of his bruised knees,
Daniel was glad to note. Clark ran the soap and his hands
from the juncture of Daniel's leg and body down to the top of
Daniel's foot. His palms glided, fingers digging into muscles,
and Clark kissed Daniel's hipbones, first on one side and then
the other.

Daniel let his head fall back against the tile, hand settling

on Clark's hair. Clark shifted his weight and let the water run
over Daniel's skin. Sighing, he stood, licking from Daniel's
navel to the ring through the left nipple. But he merely kissed
the skin there and straightened, setting aside the soap and
pulling Daniel into an embrace.

Resting his forehead on Clark's shoulder, Daniel couldn't

figure out why Clark sometimes felt like such a threat when
everything the man did was considerate, gentle, and seemed
to point toward...

For a moment Daniel's thoughts got completely tangled,

and then he remembered Clark saying, "I'm... happy to give
you anything you want, Daniel."

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Clark tightened his arms around Daniel."I think we're clean

enough to sleep. Let's get you dried off and to bed?"

Daniel looked up and got lost in Clark's tenderness. The

tone and the lilt of the question got by all his defenses; it
took exactly that combination of things from Clark to make
him feel safe. He smiled and nodded. "I'd like that."

"Okay, then," Clark murmured, kissing Daniel's cheek

before shutting off the water. He got the door open and kept
one hand on Daniel's elbow as they stepped into the
bathroom. Clark grabbed a towel and wrapped it around
Daniel, making fast work of drying him off.

Daniel grinned. "Now I feel about five... " He wrapped the

towel about himself when Clark was done and smiled.

"I like taking care of you," Clark said with a chuckle. He

shrugged and grabbed a towel for himself, running it over his
hair.

"You do, don't you?" Daniel asked with wonder in his voice.
"I do," Clark answered, kissing Daniel's shoulder. "And

right now, all I want is to pass out with you for a while."

Clark tossed the towel over the shower door and headed

into the bedroom. Daniel gently dried off his hair, tossed his
towel after Clark's, and walked into the bedroom that still
smelled of sex and sweat.

Clark ripped back the covers and switched off the lamp

before grumbling to himself and walking through the
apartment. He locked the door and shut off the lights.

Daniel slipped between the sheets naked, pulled the covers

over himself, put his head on a pillow, and closed his eyes,
waiting for Clark's return. The mattress moved in warning

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before Clark wrapped around him, and Daniel shivered as he
melted into the embrace. Being entwined with Clark was far
nicer than Daniel would ever have suspected, and he was so
tired that even the unfamiliar feeling of being held couldn't
keep him awake.

"Night," Clark mumbled, breath already slowing.
"G'night, Clark," Daniel whispered, closing his eyes and

slipping into sleep.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter 8

Clark groaned and watched Daniel moving above him. The

slide of his lover in and out of his body threatened to burn
him alive.

"God... yeah... baby... fuck..."
Clark frowned and blinked, grabbing Daniel's face with

both hands. That voice was not Daniel's. Those words were
not ones Daniel would use.

Brian smiled down at Clark, slow and sweet, and then his

mouth opened in a silent scream. His gaze grew still and
glazed, and he collapsed on top of Clark in a heavy pile of
dead weight.

Eyes flying open in the darkness, Clark held his breath. He

tensed every muscle in his body and didn't let himself shake.
He clenched his teeth hard enough to make pain rip up the
side of his face into his eye, but he made no sound. And it
was important to do this because... because...

I'm not alone.
At some point, Clark had slid away from Daniel and now

lay on his back near the edge of the bed. Daniel faced away
from Clark, and he seemed sound asleep.

Oh, holy fuck. What have I done?
Moving cautiously, Clark swallowed, breathed silently, and

rested an arm over his eyes.

Did I tell him? In the kitchen?

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Clark tensed again when he wanted to flinch at the

memory. Such a cowardly reaction to things already done was
not allowed.

And then he...
Clark tried not to feel his lower body. He ignored his cock

when it twitched in memory of delicious sensation.

In the shower, I...
It was easy to forget himself when lost in Daniel. Easy to

forget rules or baggage, anything and everything. He still
wanted. Clark searched and couldn't quite find regret over his
behavior, but he still felt—

Exposed. Middle-of-the-desert wearing a neon target that

says, "HURT ME NOW."

Clark tried to organize his thoughts. The dream kept

playing over in his mind, but that wasn't so bad; it was an old
dream. Thinking that Brian was Daniel was new, however.

Swallowing and shaking despite himself, Clark rolled onto

his side and bit his lip. He looked longingly at Daniel and
refused to kick himself for showing how worried and alone
and stunned he felt. It was dark. Daniel was asleep. No
witnesses, no worries.

A storm brewed in Clark's head, and all he could think was

that Daniel meant stability. Moving so as not to disturb his
slumbering sanity, in the form of one resting brunet, Clark
inched closer and laid a hand on Daniel's hip. He remained
still for a moment—waiting—and when Daniel didn't move and
his breathing didn't change, Clark let himself shiver against
the mattress.

He's asleep. It's okay.

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Closing his eyes, Clark saw Brian's face. Saw the grit and

dust in the air as Brian died. He remembered the incredible,
insane relief when Daniel told Clark he was wanted, that
Daniel would keep him as best Daniel could. Clark shuddered
hard and hated it, and a quiet noise escaped his throat: a
mixture of old pain, new worry, and constant self-
debasement.

"Clark?" Daniel asked, turning. Clark froze. "What's the

matter?"

Head tilted down and eyes closed, Clark found he had no

idea what to do. He wanted to say, "Nothing," apologize for
waking Daniel, and then smile as they resettled and went
back to sleep. It was early—probably around four a.m.—and it
was not the right moment to talk about anything.

I don't know what to do, I don't know how to feel, I don't

know if I can do this, I hate myself for being such a mess.
And you don't understand, and I'm terrified I can't explain it,
and how in the hell did we get here so fucking fast?

Daniel wrapped his arms around Clark, hands stroking

down Clark's back, making the muscles jump, and in a
sleepy, deep voice, he murmured, "Something is really
bothering you. Was it a bad dream or something?"

Clark tried to relax into the touch, but his body jerked

again, instead. "Yeah," he croaked. "Just a bad dream.
Sorry—didn't mean to wake you."

Daniel hummed and softly chuckled. "It's okay. I'm not

used to sleeping with someone is all. It's kind of new to me.
Do you... would you want to talk about it? Or talk about
something else so you can go back to sleep?"

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Clark's mouth opened and closed, and he hoped it was too

dark for Daniel to see that. "I..." Clark swallowed. "Just the
bombing... sort of..." Clark sighed. "No. Not the bombing." He
covered his face in his hands and rolled onto his back.

Daniel waited until Clark settled. "I'm listening."
Clark took a deep breath. "I have a recurring dream where

the other..." Clark paused and then whispered, "Brian. We're
in bed and then... he dies. On me. Just falls." Clark tried to
make the explanation matter-of-fact, but his voice was raspy
and thick.

Daniel's rested an arm over Clark. "That would be a really

nasty dream."

Clark felt the edges of panic, and for a second he had no

idea why. His hands fell away from his face so he could
breathe deeply and try to calm down, and he rocked in
Daniel's embrace.

Oh fuck. I said Brian's name, and I never admit that we

were together. Shit. Shitshitshit...

Clark turned to Daniel, his eyes finding the other man's in

the dark. "Please—don't... don't say anything about him.
Nobody knows about anything that happened, but they know
he died. And... God help me, if his family ever... They'd all
hunt me down in a lynch mob even now, so please just —"
Clark paused to pant and realized that he was babbling and
semi-incoherent. His mind told him that Daniel didn't even
know Brian's family. Or last name. But it would be so easy to
find out.

No, that made no sense. This was Daniel, who wouldn't

hurt him like that. Probably. Definitely. Maybe?

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A part of Clark observed his own horror with confusion and

cold hatred, and Clark couldn't breathe.

"Clark, I won't say a word," Daniel said clearly.
"It was just that night," Clark said, rapid-fire. "So stupid...

but he was... and I wanted... That's all, but... oh... God..."
Clark felt sick. And he couldn't get clear of the fog to find a
shred of connection to sanity. He clutched at Daniel, felt the
solid weight of the other man. He moved them both so that
he could wrap himself around Daniel. "No one knows," he said
against Daniel's skin.

Daniel held onto Clark, who clung to him in the dark. "I'm

glad you got the night," he said and moved so that his lips
were close to Clark's. "No one else needs to know about you
and Brian. He loved you, kept you for that night."

Clark's chest rose and fell in a frantic rhythm. His hands

gripped Daniel, and his heart pounded in a deafening roar in
his skull. He sucked in air with Daniel's mouth still hovering
over his. Daniel sighed and breathed softly into Clark's
mouth, then closed the gap, locking their lips open so that
Daniel could take a slow, deep breath from Clark's lungs.

Panic flash-flared when Daniel pulled air away, and Clark

wanted to scream in the second he had to wait until Daniel
breathed slowly, deeply into Clark. Like a bird of prey
suddenly catching sight of something tasty moving on the
ground, Clark's mind turned away from the maelstrom of
panic and saw only what Daniel did. How it felt. How it
needed to work.

Clark inhaled through his nose and blew breath into

Daniel's mouth, eyes blinking but unseeing and body coming

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down off a cliff of tension. Daniel breathed in Clark's gift and
again sent air back to Clark, steady and slow, his lips gentle
against Clark's, his hands and arms firm.

A quiet sound of gratitude and relief came from Clark's

chest, and it took him a moment to realize it really was him
who had made the noise. He repeated the same pattern of air
flow and felt Daniel pull breath from him. Clark thought about
water covering his face and not knowing when he would be
allowed the next snatch of oxygen; he thought about Mother
Nature taking and giving as she saw fit. There was such
peace in the space between the hope for air and the certainty
and trust that someone else had to give it.

Hands relaxing from their death grip on Daniel's skin, Clark

let Daniel take control. The hurricane of fear and panic blew
away from shore.

Daniel stroked Clark's back and repeated the calm, steady

exchange a few more times before he broke off and kissed
Clark. Daniel rubbed his chin against Clark's hair. "Better
now?"

Clark's mind was alert but not frantic. He licked his lips

and moved down until his forehead pressed against Daniel's
chest. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm... sorry."

Daniel pulled Clark closer until Clark could hear Daniel's

steady heartbeat. "I'm glad I could help. No reason to be
sorry."

"Mm," Clark murmured, letting himself enjoy being held

despite everything. Daniel was safe and stable, and Clark was
awfully tired of fighting uphill battles.

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"I'm sorry I woke you. But glad you're here." Clark shifted

and felt warmth in his face. Blushing. But in the dark, thank
God.

"I don't like it when you're so scared." Daniel hesitated.

"May I... may I ask you something?"

Clark melted at the affection and kindness in Daniel's

voice, even though he felt like he should brace for impact.
"You may."

"Can you—will you tell me about Brian? Maybe tell me why

you called me by his name when you were..." Daniel took a
deep breath. "When I finally got the nerve to grab you on the
mountain?"

Clark blinked and eyelashes dragged on Daniel's bare skin.

As was always the case, Clark felt his throat close, his heart
hammer, and his guts twist at the question about Brian. Clark
swallowed, tongue too thick for his mouth.

"He never listened when I told him I was fine," Clark

whispered. "Made me take care of myself. My mother died
just before I enlisted. My father just before I started SF
training. I was a little self-destructive. So you reminded me of
him. That's... what I can answer." Clark spoke in a quiet rush
before he thought about it too much. "If you want to know
more, asking won't work."

"It won't?" Daniel paused and asked, "What will?"
Clark thought of all the times he'd been asked to expound

on how he felt about nearly being blown to bits and watching
his friends die. And he never said a word about Brian,
because it would disrespect the family's memory of their
enigmatic, straight-as-an-arrow soldier son. The truth was

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dangerous for many reasons, and Clark counted them like his
own private rosary.

All of it was painful—every single memory—and the

physical pain wasn't nearly bad enough to drown the guilt.
What was an eye or an arm compared to losing a life? And
Clark didn't dare let any of it go. The pain was all that he had
left. He couldn't save Brian, but Clark could hide anything
that might disgrace the fallen soldier.

At least, that's how it began—the fear of maligning Brian

somehow. Later, Brian and everything connected to him
became too personal for Clark to discuss. As the years
passed, Clark started to feel beyond stupid for being so
attached to a man after only one night.

Clark blinked, thought of Daniel in his bed, and nearly

drowned beneath the irony.

Daniel was the second exception in Clark's life. Such

exceptions were to be trusted. Clark was good with people,
good at knowing what made them live and breathe. He was
good at recognizing those who were different from the rest,
even if sometimes he missed it at first. That tended to
happen with the exceptions, it seemed. They stayed below
the radar until it was too late. Until they became too
important to dismiss as they transformed into the people who
could save pieces, or perhaps all, of Clark's life. Brian had
helped him through attempted self-destruction by alcohol and
violence after his parents died. And now Daniel...

I need him to know me. I want him to understand. He's

safe. I'm safe with him. And he might damned well need to
know everything, considering.

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"You'd have to do what three therapists, all my friends,

and the military didn't do." Clark's voice was so quiet, he
almost didn't hear it himself. "You could... would have to..."
Clark shifted and felt hot all over. "You could order me to tell
you about my relationship with Brian."

* * * *

Daniel's heart pounded in his throat. He didn't want to

know about this other man, this one and only who held so
much of Clark's scarred, scared heart. Daniel didn't want to
find himself lacking, especially since he felt lost about exactly
what to do with this man who infuriated him, turned him on,
and made him so afraid he was going to fail them both.

Ordering Clark to do anything, even based on what Daniel

knew, what small research he'd been able to do after that
lunch talk, seemed impossible. At least he knew that of the
three people killed in the explosion that ended Clark's career,
only one had been named Brian.

If there's any chance at all, I have to take it.
Daniel took a slow breath, and with a hard twist of his

body, he rolled on top of Clark. He used his desperation and
fear to light up his voice with ferocity. "Sergeant Maxwell
Clark. Report, man. You have to tell me what you were doing
with Sergeant Brian Patterson and why you were together on
the day he died. I need to know the situation, before I can..."
To his horror, his voice broke, and he ended on a whisper. "...
before I can take responsibility for you, soldier."

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Clark stared at Daniel. Daniel waited for long seconds until

Clark gasped a breath and made a noise of pain, but relaxed
in Daniel's grip.

"Sir... yes... Sir..." Clark whispered. He closed his eyes.

"Anything... Sir..."

Daniel struggled to get his voice steady. "Tell me how well

you knew him."

"Patterson and I met in boot camp," Clark answered

immediately, voice clipped. "Everyone liked him—including
me—but there was no time for anything except PT and sleep.
Didn't even occur to me to want time for anything else." Clark
shook his head, eyes still closed.

"Years later, and I'm stationed in Kuwait with Detachment

Charlie. I'm the intelligence, and Patterson is one of our
weapons sergeants. It's... fate. That's what he said when he
saw me again—'Fancy meeting you here. Must be fate.' I told
him it was chance. He said, 'Nothing good's left to chance;
he's a corn-fed bitch. Fate's the fuckin' queen.'" Clark
swallowed and tears began to slip from the corners of his
eyes.

"Keep going, soldier."
"There was nothing around." Clark's eyebrows went up and

down, and his voice was steady despite the flow of salt water
that left tracks on his temples. "Nothing but us and a hostile
population we were tasked to make as friendly as possible.
We worked. We obeyed. We supported and served.

"And then one night I was off and ended up in our bad

excuse of a rec hall. A bigger tent with a ping pong table and
shit like that. I was alone with my feet on a broken chair and

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a mental game of solitaire going on in my head. And in walks
Patterson. He..." Clark shifted, voice dropping. "He asked how
I was doing. He asked if we were alone. I said, 'Fine' and 'You
see anybody else here but our sorry asses?'

"Patterson said, 'Good,' walked over, grabbed my chin, and

kissed me." Clark's face twisted into a smirk, and a fresh
wave of tears spilled. "I nearly killed the fucker. I was out of
my seat, wanting to yell at him but trying to keep it down,
calling him every name in the goddamned book and shaking
him 'til his teeth rattled." Clark blew out a harsh exhale.

"And when I was through, Brian said, 'You done?' And I

just fucking looked at him. I mean... you didn't do that. And I
couldn't imagine being so... insane. To just... kiss another
guy in..." Clark shook his head. "It was nuts. But when I
didn't answer..." Clark's chin trembled. "Brian said, 'Will you
let me do it again?'

"'You want to?' I asked. I remembered being shocked

stupid. 'Yeah,' he says. 'Been wanting to.'"

Clark paused and breathed hard. Daniel stroked Clark's

cheek, his hand touching the tears, and he was reminded of
his own from earlier. "Clark..." he said softly, letting anguish
into his voice. "Please... go on."

Nodding, Clark gripped Daniel's upper arm. He didn't open

his eyes, but his voice was steadier when he spoke. "I told
him he was crazy. That doing anything like this was a death
sentence. We could be... at the very least dishonorably
discharged, and at the worst killed." Clark bared his teeth in a
mockery of a grin, and his eyes opened. "I think I talked
about Brian and death at length. And then... then he said..."

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Clark made a horrible noise, like he screamed from his gut
and managed to catch it in his throat. "He said he loved me...
of all the crazy, fucking things, love? I wanted to kill him
and..."

Daniel couldn't help himself; he wrapped his arms around

Clark, who turned a fraction toward him. "I told him he was
insane." Clark's voice was fast and high. "And he said he was.
But that he had a pass secured for the next weekend, and
that he knew I could work one to match. He told me where
he'd be, and that he wanted to see me. That nothing had to
happen. He just wanted to get to know me. He said..."

Clark's voice broke, and he writhed on the bed. "'Please,'"

Clark gasped. "He said, 'Please.'"

Daniel cried against Clark's chest, holding on to Clark.
"So I went," Clark rasped, breath coming in wheezes and

harsh drags. "It was a bad hotel, god-awful. But somewhere
off the map and nobody would look. It was a risk, and I didn't
give a shit. Because he was beautiful. And funny. And kind.
And a damned fine soldier. He had... dark hair... and..." Clark
shook. "At first it was nothing—just us in this room, staring at
each other." He stopped, flailed with one arm, and Daniel held
him harder. It was as though the very air leached mental
poisons with each brutal cut Clark made through the skin of
secret, festering memory.

"He asked to kiss me again," Clark continued, voice

wavering before solidifying. "We did. He asked if he could
touch me. He asked every time he wanted something, and I
felt like I was falling. And then I told him what I wanted to
do, and he told me to get on my knees to do it. And I did.

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And he asked if he could undress me and bind my hands. He
used his belt. I was so... nearly came just... and he loved it.
Told me he knew when he saw me that I was special, and
that he wanted me and all these things like out of some
goddamned romance novel, and I laughed until he kissed me.
And... and... it was..."

Clark's hands came up. He dug the heels into his eyes,

pressing hard into his skull. He sobbed, his body rolling with
the force of it. "I wanted to do anything to make him happy.

"And oh, fuck, the things we did," Clark said as he inhaled.

His voice was manic, desperate. "I knew I liked bondage and
bullshit. And before we even got to fuck, my ass was red... he
used my own belt to..." Clark shivered. "And my jaw ached,
and I was seven levels of submissive. And it was..."

Clark's voice dropped to a whisper. "Fucking amazing. He

asked me all these questions, and there were no safewords or
anything that I know now. Just us working it out, and there
was no question who was taking what. Oh God... I can... I
wanted..." Clark shuddered and tried to fight his way out of
Daniel's embrace until he caught himself and went still.

Softly, Daniel asked, "What did you want?"
"To... I..." Clark struggled. "I didn't want to be able to

move, and I wanted it rough, and we argued." Clark laughed,
a shocked, wheezing sound. "Fought around the room and
knocked over a nightstand. For no reason. And then he used
both our belts and cinched my arms to my legs and..." Clark
shook his head. "When it was over, it was morning. He... held
me. And wiped down the shower before he helped me into it.
And he said all those things again. Said I was..." Clark just

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sighed, tears streaming, voice thick. "Perfect. And he asked
to do it again. And he said, 'Please.'"

Clark stopped talking, his body tensed, and he whispered,

"Fuck... fuck, Daniel... fuck... I'm not going to survive this.
I'm going to tell you, you're going to hear and then know, and
then I'll vanish off the face of the fucking earth. It hurts."
Clark sucked wind through clenched teeth. "Too much... and
it's so old. No one knows. No one. But I want to let it go...
just..." Clark shook his head. "Just let it... go."

"I'll hang onto you, make sure you stay with me, Clark,

especially because I know." Daniel said, arms aching as he
clung. "We need to finish so you can let it go." Daniel didn't
want to see Clark in pain, but he knew to help Clark, he had
to understand it all.

"And then the next day..." Daniel prompted.
Incredibly, Clark smiled. "The next day we slept. And ate.

And it was sweet. Then it was back to base, and when we got
there the morning of April thirtieth, Morrell said that we were
to go spend some quality time with the natives. Had fancy
terms for it, but it was morale boosting and infiltrating and
sometimes an excuse. Morrell, Patterson, Auswise and I all
left at lunch to go to some place Brian knew. It was in a
cleared area that was supposed to be safe. It didn't... we
couldn't..."

Clark threw one arm over his eyes. The other landed with

a dull thud on the bed, limp and lifeless. "Brian brushed up
against me. Smiled. And I knew I loved him." Clark's voice
was matter-of-fact. "The suicide bomber made it to the
restaurant door. The blast killed Morrell and Auswise

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immediately. Along with fifteen civilians. I came to with a hole
in my head where my left eye was, broken ribs and collar
bone, and my right arm was snapped backward. Debris was
everywhere."

Clark's voice grew gravelly and low. "I couldn't hear or see

well. And when I turned my head, I saw Brian with his guts
on the outside. He blinked, reached for me, and died. I
screamed so much I couldn't speak for a week. And when my
throat healed, I didn't talk for two more weeks while I tried to
climb out of hell and get back to earth. They got me a new
eye, got me experimental surgery to make me see again. But
I needed a new..." Clark coughed a rough chuckle.
"Everything."

Clark stopped, and he choked on a yell that was half pain

and half surprise. Sobs tore through him like shockwaves,
and Daniel wondered if he would fly apart. Daniel wrapped
himself about Clark and let him feel it all, let him cry, let him
hurt. Daniel felt as if he was holding someone he'd just
beaten bloody raw and facing the fact that it still might not be
enough.

Clark jerked and struggled, fighting Daniel and straining.

Daniel moved with him, and then Clark stilled as he seemed
to remembered where he was. Who he was with.

"Daniel..." Clark said, voice small and thick. He turned,

looking like he'd never seen Daniel before.

"Right here, Clark," Daniel said, using his entire body to

cradle the other man, hands roaming over the racked figure.
He was still crying and didn't bother hiding it. "I've got you,"
he whispered into the rough hair. "I've got you."

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* * * *

Clark gasped at the words that echoed in both past and

present and let himself sink into Daniel's embrace. He lost
track of his body, the room, and time. Talking about Brian
and confessing so much felt like removing old, rusted daggers
from his insides. Each removal was a relief, but each ached
and left him bleeding.

After long moments, the tears stopped and dry sobs made

Clark shake. He didn't fight them, didn't have the strength,
and he let Daniel hold him together. Finally Clark could
breathe, and it didn't burn. He sighed, trembled, and the
tension drained out of every muscle. Slowly, he came back to
himself, opening his eyes and blinking. Clark had no idea how
much time had passed; it felt like several forevers. With a
soft sigh, he gently rubbed Daniel's back.

Daniel: the professor's smell, warmth, touch, and steady

heartbeat. Clark drowned in the other man and felt gratitude
strong enough to make him ashamed. Fear began to ice his
insides as he waited for Daniel to condemn him for
something, anything.

Daniel relaxed and gave him another squeeze before using

one hand to wipe away tears. "Thank you," Daniel whispered.
"I think I needed to know all of that."

Clark frowned. His face was a mess, and seeing that Daniel

wasn't much better, he rolled away to grab a box of tissues
from the nightstand. It gave him something to do as he tried
not to faint in the aftermath of confession and tentative relief.

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Clark returned with the box and unceremoniously blew his
nose and wiped off his face.

"You deserve to know," Clark said. He felt numb and

exhausted, but also strangely clear-headed and lighter.

Daniel grabbed a tissue and cleaned up, too, before

settling against Clark. Rolling onto his side to face Daniel,
Clark threw a leg over the other man's hip and pulled them
close, almost nose-to-nose. Clark kept his eyes lowered and
spoke what was on his mind without bothering to check it
through any filters. He was simply too tired, and this was
Daniel: the first man to make him tell Brian's story, and the
first man who needed to know it. The telling opened doors
and made walking through them easier, and Clark was eager
for easy when everything else felt so damned hard.

"I don't know how to be with you," Clark said softly. "I

want to be. Wanted it since I met you. And at some point I
decided it didn't matter how that happened, just as long as...
I..." Clark sighed. "Just as long as I get to hold your damned
hand in public. Crazy..." He shook his head at himself.

"But there's only been Brian and that one night. I've had

subs since—you know that. But it's like... all those rules don't
really apply to you."

Daniel's eyes widened, and he cupped Clark's face. "I feel

so lost around you." Daniel took a long breath. "I mean, I've
been a professional dom for years, and I've always had to
hold this line with people. Always had to stop anyone from
seeing me as vulnerable. But with you..." Daniel stopped. His
body shook, and Clark squeezed Daniel's arm. "With you, I
want to stop being so defensive. You just want to take care of

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me, to do things for me. It's not that you think I'm weak, and
you're going to have to give me some time to disarm all
that."

Clark kissed Daniel lightly on the mouth. His body and

brain were conflicted: the mental exhaustion demanded
respite, but Clark's body didn't want rest. It wanted to crawl
inside Daniel and get lost in skin and taste and sensation.

"You can have time or space or... anything, Daniel," Clark

said, lips brushing Daniel's as he spoke. This was easier.
Daniel admitting he was unsure and needing comfort gave
Clark goals and paths. "And I don't want to be... I'm not a
client. I'm me. And if being with you means calling you 'Sir,'
then I want to do that. If it means we trade or stick to roles,
then we do. If you want me on my knees every moment
we're at home some nights, I want it. If you want me to hold
you, then... please let me."

Clark ran his hand up and down Daniel's spine, voice tired

and raw. "You're the only other one I've ever felt this way
about, and I'm sorry if that puts you off or worries you. I
don't want it to. I just want you to know that to me, you're
stability and peace and a guy I'd really like to keep in my
life."

Daniel sighed a long, slow sigh. "I should be terrified. I've

never... I don't... I haven't had..." He laughed. "It's a little
like being followed by an adoring Bengal tiger and wondering
when you'll rip my arm off for whacking you on the nose."

Clark chuckled throatily, and Daniel flashed a smile. "But I

think, with you, I want to try," he continued. "I keep jumping

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into the damnedest things for you, keep saying things that
take everything I've got. Just for you."

Clark laughed and slid closer to Daniel. "I'm here to make

you work for it?" he quipped, molding their bodies together.
"I would sooner rip my own arm off than hurt you," Clark
said, nosing Daniel's head back so Clark could kiss chin and
jaw.

Daniel's head tipped, giving Clark more room to work.

"That's what I'm afraid of, Clark. I don't want..." He
shuddered. "I don't know. I don't want to hurt you, either, if
some of my reflexes do go off when I'm tired or have a bad
day or just because I'm afraid. And, oh God, Clark that does
feel good."

Clark slowly dragged his lips over Daniel's neck. His

fingertips teased their light caress lower—tracing the soft skin
at the top of the cleft of Daniel's ass and then over the
cheeks. He reached under pillows to bring Daniel closer.
"Don't worry about it right now. I think I can weather your
bad days or moods or reflexes. I know you, remember?" Clark
kissed Daniel's temple. "I won't let you hide from me," he
whispered, and licked the pattern of Daniel's ear with the tip
of his tongue.

Daniel whimpered. "Please... yes, please keep looking."
"I will," Clark promised, kissing Daniel with a firm press of

wet lips. He splayed the fingers of one hand across Daniel's
upper back and shifted his leg from over Daniel's hip. Sliding
a palm over the back of Daniel's thigh, Clark settled Daniel's
leg over his hip, and the professor used that leg to pull Clark
closer.

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"What... what do you want to do with me, Clark?" Daniel

asked, and Clark heard the tremor in his tone.

Smiling and moving back just far enough to see Daniel's

eyes, Clark kept touching: hip, ass, thigh. Knowing why
Daniel asked—understanding the call for reassurance and
explanation—Clark let his face relax and, he hoped, show the
heat and want and need he felt.

"I want to get lost in you," Clark answered, meeting

Daniel's gaze. "You help me find ground, and I want to feel
you. But you tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me more, and I'll
do it. I just want to touch you everywhere I can, hold you... I
want your cock in my mouth," he continued, lips brushing
Daniel's. "I want to suck you dry..." He pulled back again and
let the plea enter his voice. "Please? Let me?"

Daniel shuddered and murmured, "Yes. Please, Clark. I'd

love it if you did that for me."

Clark sighed. Thought left as he kissed Daniel with purpose

before rolling on top of the dark-haired man, who arched up
against his weight. Clark's hand squeezed Daniel's thigh, and
low noises came from Clark's throat. Daniel sighed, wrapping
his arms around Clark's body, and Clark gasped and curled up
into blunt nails scraping down his back. "God, yeah," Clark
said breathlessly and saw Daniel smile. "Nngh—love..." Clark
kissed Daniel quickly. "That."

Mouth against Daniel's, Clark reveled in the slick tongue

running along the edges of his teeth. Clark settled so his
hardness rubbed against Daniel's belly, and Daniel moaned,
arching up into him. Clark ran his hands everywhere he could
touch: up legs, sides, and finally to Daniel's arms. Gently,

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Clark unwrapped one from his body to push it down to the
bed and massaged Daniel's palm with his thumb before
sliding his hand down to rub the tricep. He pushed at tendons
and muscles made hard with use, encouraged when Daniel
sighed, upper body relaxing. Clark broke the kiss, hand
sliding beneath Daniel's body to knead a shoulder blade. "I
love the sounds you make," Clark whispered as he began to
attack Daniel's neck. "Gets me..."

Not bothering to finish the sentence, Clark ground into

Daniel and pulled skin between his teeth. Daniel cried out,
body bucking, and Clark shuddered as he got lost.

* * * *

Daniel drowned in sensation. Clark slid a hand under

Daniel's lower back, pulling Daniel up as his weight ground
down on Daniel's length. His mouth moved lower, biting at
the juncture of neck and shoulder. Daniel clutched the sheets,
and he rolled against Clark's hips. Daniel shuddered as Clark's
bite firmed, worrying the skin. But it wasn't... quite...

"I..." Daniel groaned, head turning away at the thought of

what he wanted. "God, Clark, I like your teeth on my pulse...
pressing against..."

Clark's mouth slipped wetly from shoulder to throat, and

Daniel gasped. Hips moving in a steady rhythm, Clark licked
Daniel's skin.

"Anything," Clark husked, before he bit down on Daniel's

throat. Daniel gave a low, shuddering cry as Clark's teeth
worked, and he pressed against Daniel's windpipe. Pulse
pounding, Daniel's breath rasped when Clark gave a low

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growl, grinding them together as one warm hand moved to
pinch and pull at Daniel's nipple ring.

"Nnngh!" Daniel bucked so hard that he had to grab onto

Clark's body as he came down. The heat Clark so magically
conjured consumed him. The jagged electric current from his
abused nipple spiked the heated blend of fear and trust at
having Clark at his throat. It all fed the steadily building ache
of his hard cock. It was overwhelming, and he clung to Clark
in the midst of the storm.

Clark groaned and slowly released Daniel's skin before

lightly clasping Daniel's throat. He didn't squeeze or press,
just rubbed his thumb over the slicked mark and pounding
pulse. "God, I want you... make you burn," Clark whispered
against Daniel's jaw. "Make you need... and then I'm gonna
come with your cock down the back of my throat."

Daniel panted and tried to slow down the erratic rhythm.

Shuddering, he rubbed his jaw against Clark's cheek in
acknowledgement, and his hands tightened against Clark's
back.

"God," Clark whispered. Daniel swallowed against the

pressure of Clark's thumb as his weight pressed Daniel into
the mattress. The heat of Clark's mouth found the nipple his
fingers had abused, and Daniel had to concentrate on
breathing beneath the hot, wet stroke of Clark's tongue. One
hand stayed on Clark's shoulder as Daniel combed the other
through his hair, cradling his head, fingers trembling.

Clark shifted, kissing the warmed metal that pierced

Daniel's skin. In the next second, a fist wrapped around
Daniel's cock, teeth yanked at the piercing, and fingers dug

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into the back of Daniel's neck, building the pressure against
his throat.

"Nnngh! Oh, Christ!" Daniel arched, writhing, reminded of

tigers grabbing their mates. His hand closed in Clark's hair,
and Daniel held Clark there as he shook and twisted, all
possibility of thought gone like ash floating over a bonfire.

Daniel whined when Clark bit down harder, tightening the

neck hold until Daniel nearly couldn't breathe, and the friction
on his cock grew before a slicked fingertip dug into his slit. A
wildfire flash burned all the wary, protective voices in the
back of his head, scorched all the hate at being helpless. This
wasn't about being at someone else's mercy. Clark's read of
him, of what he needed, and the man's love and desire for
him was Daniel's lifeline, the way through.

"Clark, please. Oh, God, please. Your mouth... ngh..."

Daniel gasped as teeth pinched the nub of his nipple against
the ring. "Please. On my cock. I want..."

Warm, sure hands ran over the tops of Daniel's thighs and

then moved between them, spreading Daniel wide—a
controlled wrench that made Daniel suck a gasp, head coming
up to see. Clark kept his touch tight on the taut muscles, and
Daniel felt Clark drag his teeth lightly up the underside of
Daniel's cock before sucking the head into searing heat.
Clark's eyes rolled, locking with Daniel's as Clark took Daniel
deeply into his mouth.

"Ahh—fuck!" Daniel cried out, his whole body jerking.
An arm shoved under Daniel's body, fingertips holding,

clutching at Daniel's left hip, and Clark's weight came down
on Daniel's right leg. Clark set a brutal rhythm with a firm

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seal of his lips, and Daniel cried out. The rough texture of the
roof of Clark's mouth and the constricting heat of his throat
accompanied every glide. Clark cupped and rolled Daniel's
balls, squeezing, and Daniel chased oxygen in ragged gulps.

Clark paused the pace to inch teeth up the entirety of

Daniel's length, suckle pre-come from the head, and dive
back down. Daniel thrashed back against the pillows. His eyes
closed, his hands clenched somewhere on Clark's body, and
words and sounds spilled from Daniel's mouth unchecked.
"Gah, God. Shit... nnnngh... Clark... Please... Oh God
please... Close, Clark... guh... fuck. I'm close..."

Clark slid up Daniel's cock, took a gulp of air, and kept the

pace while his hand slid down to wrap around his own length.
Daniel felt Clark buck and tremble, heard him whimper
around Daniel's cock even as his mouth worked higher. He
pressed harder with lips and tongue to drive Daniel to the
edge.

Gasping, Daniel looked down, seeing Clark's furrowed brow

and the deliberate movement of their bodies. It hit Daniel
who it was between his legs, pushing him this way, keeping
him safe in his need and lack of control. The knowledge threw
Daniel bodily into his release. The first spasm of his orgasm
clenched his body so hard that he went numb at the lips, and
he felt like he was trying to turn inside out.

Clark groaned loudly enough to startle Daniel. He moved

his head down and sucked and swallowed, making small
noises of satisfaction. Clark milked Daniel dry, each groan
making Daniel's body spasm.

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Going rigid, Clark's mouth fell away from Daniel. He

gasped a high-pitched "Ah!" against Daniel's hip. Clark's eyes
flew open, the cry breaking in the middle as he surrendered
to the onslaught of orgasm, burrowing his face in Daniel's
skin and digging fingers into Daniel's flesh.

Daniel gasped for air, body still shuddering. Daniel didn't

think the waves would ever fucking stop shaking Clark to
pieces, but finally Clark collapsed across Daniel's lower body.
He lay limp and languid, panting so fast that Daniel wondered
if he would find his breath again. Gradually he calmed down.
Daniel shivered under his weight, hands wandering over
Clark's hair and shoulders.

Daniel groped for the box of tissues. Clark grunted,

grabbed the sheet, and cleaned up before tossing the soiled
cloth away. Daniel untangled from Clark, swiped to get the
worst off, and resettled as close to Clark as he could get,
body still trembling as he replayed just how vulnerable he'd
let himself be.

"Mm, c'mere," Clark murmured, pulling Daniel flush

against him and rolling onto his back. Clark situated Daniel on
his chest and kissed the top of Daniel's head.

Daniel clung before taking a long, slow breath. Clark still

liked him. Still wanted him, even after everything. "Thank
you," he whispered.

Clark gently stroked over Daniel's cheek and into his hair.

He petted back damp strands, and his thumb traced near the
scar on Daniel's scalp. "Thank you," Clark said, voice a low
rasp. "You're amazing."

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Centering with the praise, Daniel recognized what he'd

only ever seen from the outside. Lying in the strength of
Clark's arms, everything was all right. He rested against
Clark's shoulder and nodded. "It was. You were." Daniel
looked up and saw Clark smiling, eyes closed. And that was
enough of a comfort for Daniel to settle into sleep.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter 9

Desert stretched out under Daniel's feet: dusty, harsh,

tawny gold. The undulating voice of a muezzin sounded from
a minaret. Buildings with thick walls, thin ceilings, and
fluttering washlines stood off in the distance. Men with loose
clothing watched him curiously from under thick brows.

Already parched, Daniel's mouth grew dryer when a man

in military uniform came out from the shadows. Daniel
couldn't make out his face. Behind the man, on a leash and
with a bright red leather collar about its neck, padded an
enormous tiger with mismatched eyes: the right as pale blue
as the desert sky, the left as brown as his gypsy mother's
hair.

The man came up to him, and Daniel realized that the

well-armed soldier had no face, just a smile. A solid fist held
the leash's handle out to him, and both were covered in
blood.

The tiger watched Daniel as it paced back and forth, the

stripes moving across its skin like the flicker of flames across
a campfire. Silver and black scars rippled along the tiger's left
flank. Daniel tried to say something and found that he
couldn't, so he took the leash from the bloody fist.

The great beast coughed, growled, and then curled up

heavily in the dust at Daniel's feet. Its—no. His side pressed
warm and solid against Daniel's shins, and together they
watched the faceless man disappear into the shifting

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shadows. A low sound of grief from the animal surprised
Daniel, and he knelt to put his arms about the thick neck.

The tiger turned to face Daniel, and he could see tears

rolling from the two-toned eyes. A rough tongue licked him,
throat to ear. He hugged the big cat closer and felt the deep
rumble of a purr.

"Guess you're mine, now," Daniel said softly. The tiger

looked at him, bared glistening white teeth in a snarl...

...and he woke up.
Daniel coughed, tried to swallow and found it difficult. His

body ached, and he suddenly remembered everything that
had happened the night before. No wonder he felt so drained.
He thought about just going back to sleep, but the other side
of the bed was empty, and he wondered what Clark was
doing.

Stretching his hand, Daniel found no bruising from the

night before. He stretched methodically, gradually waking up,
his brain finding more clarity as muscles moved. Finally
getting out of bed, Daniel used the restroom and sighed over
not having a toothbrush. He wasn't quite sure enough to use
Clark's. Daniel eyed his sweat-soaked shirt and leather pants
on the floor. Clark had to have sweatpants and a t-shirt
somewhere.

The shower's hot water was a balm, and he soaped up,

thinking about the promises he'd made in the darkness of the
night. Now, in the light of day, he wanted to keep them all.
He knew that Clark needed him. He knew also that he needed
Clark in a way he'd never allowed himself to need anyone
before. The last bout of lovemaking had touched on the fact

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that he could submit to Clark to the point of needing
approval, and that disturbed and fascinated him.

Daniel's fists tightened against the tile. Clark had been

through so much, and if Daniel could keep Clark from getting
hurt again, he'd do it; and the thing that would hurt the most
would be if Daniel left.

Bowing his head, Daniel resolved to stay and figure things

out. He sighed under the water. The risks he'd taken for his
clients no longer made sense. He was going to have to do
something about the very business that had brought him to
Clark's attention. He shut off the water, got out, and dried
himself before heading into the bedroom.

On the now neatly made bed lay a pair of blue sweatpants

and a pair of dark briefs. Next to them, however, was another
option. Wile E. Coyote crouched behind a boulder, peering at
the Roadrunner, who was studying a pile of seed, right in the
crotch of a pair of boxers. A big sign pointed down and said,
"Eat Me!"

Daniel blinked and laughed, grabbing the boxers to go

under the sweatpants. He slipped around the screen, bare-
chested, and ran a hand through his damp hair.

* * * *

Clark stood at the fridge with a bottle of Gatorade in his

hand. He'd woken up parched and wandered into the kitchen
for a drink. Daniel had slept through Clark's shower, shave,
and clean up of the apartment, which made Clark happy for
all sorts of reasons.

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Not wanting to disturb the professor, Clark left a note on

the kitchen counter. He went down the street to a cafe that
served the best omelets in the city, and returned with a feast
that he set out on the counter. Clark let the refrigerator door
shut, grinning when he saw Daniel emerge from the bedroom.

"Morning, sunshine," Clark said, eying the way the pants

clung to Daniel's hips.

Daniel cocked a still-bleary eye at the sunlight blazing

through the loft's windows. "Uhm... it is morning. Wow.
That's an amazing spread." He admired the array and reached
for juice.

"It is," Clark agreed, leaning on the counter. He scratched

the back of his calf with one foot, his jeans loose and full of
rips. His burnt-orange t-shirt had a couple of holes, too, but it
was soft, damn it all.

Clark tried to stay calm, but this was like Christmas

morning when you still believed in Santa and didn't know
what was under the tree, but you hoped.

There was lots of hope.
"Didn't know what you would want," Clark said with a

shrug. "But sit." He gestured to stools on Daniel's side of the
counter. "Coffee?" he asked, turning to a cardboard carton on
the counter behind him.

"Please," Daniel said reverently, as he opened the cup of

orange juice and gulped half the contents. "Two creams."

Clark looked over his shoulder sheepishly. "I'm a mocha

kind of guy," Clark confessed. "Heather gives me hell for
being a girl about it, but..." He laughed, dumping two creams
into Daniel's coffee and stirring.

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"But it's coffee," Daniel finished. Clark heard the stool

slide, and Daniel's arms wrapped around him a second later.
Daniel stole the cup from under Clark's stirrer. "I need this,
badly."

Unable to tell if Daniel meant the coffee, the hug, or

maybe Clark himself, Clark relaxed into Daniel's embrace. A
voice in his mind told him not to feel that way—that he
shouldn't, he wasn't allowed, anything negative—but Clark
shut it down. All morning long he'd coped with such voices
and told each and every one of them to go to hell. Even if it
only lasted for this single weekend, Clark was going to enjoy
Daniel. And this closeness. And the fact that Daniel now knew
more about Clark than anyone alive on Earth. It was not
going to worry him. Nor terrify him.

Clark covered one of Daniel's hands with his own and said,

"Mm, me, too."

Daniel leaned into Clark's back. "I guess I should use a

plate," he said, picking up a slice of bacon and eating it with a
happy sigh.

Clark's lip twitched, and heart pounding, he turned his

head, snatched the bacon near his face, and tore off a bite.
"Mm, plate," Clark said, chewing. "Right."

Daniel grinned, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and his

breath caught before he leaned to kiss Clark. "Salty, yet so
sweet," Daniel murmured.

Clark snorted, eyes rolling. "If you say so." He looked at

Daniel and realized that, with Daniel, he could be who he
needed to be. At the moment, he was a man who needed

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food and another kiss. He took the second item first—
priorities—and sighed through his nose.

Stomach growling, Daniel broke the kiss. "Okay, I needed

that, too. Your mouth is hard to forget, but that omelet is
calling to me."

Clark laughed and grabbed plates. "All my hopes and

dreams... gone. And before noon."

"Mm, tragedy," Daniel agreed, digging into the food with a

smirk.

Had it ever been this easy? Clark didn't think so. And

certainly not after the kind of night that would probably be
enough to kill most men. Or at least confine them in an
emotionally bedridden state.

Clark felt like a teenager in love for the first time and ate a

slice of bacon as Daniel walked around to take a seat on the
other side of the bar. Companionable silence filled the space
between the two men as they dug in, and Clark was solely
occupied by food to fork to mouth for several long moments.
He let his mind stray to wonder what Daniel would want to
do, how long the professor could stay.

Feeling a stab like an icepick at the thought of Daniel

leaving, Clark paused and made himself let that thought go.
Eventually the man would have to leave, and that was okay.

Even if he goes for good.
Clark drank deeply of his mocha.
It's good right now. And God, I need good.
Clark chewed and smirked, thinking that after last night,

his need was rather abundantly clear.

But so was Daniel's.

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Clark felt an assessing gaze sweep over him. "What are

you thinking?" Daniel asked.

Looking up, Clark rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "That this

feels good—having you here. Eating breakfast. Just... all of it.
Even after last night. Maybe especially because of last night,"
Clark's voice went softer. "And I'm making myself enjoy this.
Even if I don't really know how long it will last." The words
tried to cut deeply. But they were the truth, and Daniel
deserved that much. Hell, Clark deserved to say it.

Nodding, Daniel sighed. "Yeah. All relationships die, don't

they? I mean..." Daniel took a breath. "Mom and Dad died.
They just were suddenly gone. You know exactly what that
feels like, too, but worse. I might drive my Tesla off a cliff or
get something stupid from doing my dom service, or you
could—I don't know—have that DJ of yours go off some day.
And it'll just be gone."

Intuition made Clark walk around to Daniel, moving a stool

so he could stand close and put one hand on Daniel's arm.
"Yeah, we both know what it's like to have things change in a
blink," Clark began. "And yes, something untimely could
happen to either one of us—a piano from the sky, a stampede
of elephants escaped from the zoo." Clark smiled. "But we
can't do a damn thing about any of that. And when I said I'm
making myself enjoy this no matter how long it lasts, I wasn't
thinking about death."

Clark bit his lip. "I was thinking about what will happen

when you leave. The kitchen, the building... me." Clark hated
the way he whispered the last word, hated the inherent
vulnerability and raw pain in his voice. But after everything

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else, what was admitting that Clark didn't want Daniel to
leave him? In comparison to discussions of dead lovers, that
was nothing.

Daniel's eyes went wide. "Leave? I... I can't leave you. I

promised."

Clark struggled to understand, failed, and his mouth

worked without sound until he laughed. "You... promised?"
Clark finally said, incredulously.

"I said..." Daniel swallowed and ran his hand through his

hair. Clark waited, fingers tracing the skin of Daniel's arm.

"Can I tell you a story?" Daniel asked. "I know you know

about my parents' death, and it's not as difficult as you telling
me about Brian. I've told this to a lot of people, but it'll show
you what it means to me when I say I'll do something."

"Sure," Clark said immediately, tension tightening his gut

at the thought of hearing the story from Daniel's mouth.
"Couch?" Clark gestured to the middle of the loft. "You may
have told the story a lot, but I've not heard it." Clark
shrugged, thinking he wanted to wrap himself in Daniel's
arms and stay that way for a small eternity.

"Sure. That would be nice." Getting up, Daniel walked over

to the couch, turning to sit sideways. "It'll probably be easier
with you."

"I hope so," Clark said, settling between Daniel's legs.

Clark relaxed against Daniel, head on his shoulder while
Daniel wrapped his arms around Clark, rubbing his chin
against Clark's hair.

"All right." Daniel took a deep breath. "I think I need to

start by saying that when I was a kid, Mom and Dad and I

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liked playing this game. They'd bring home solved casework
and let me try to figure out what happened. I was good at it.
So I got used to... well... crime scenes. That proved useful
when I went to the police academy, but I dropped out when I
realized the job would keep reminding me of them and of how
they died."

Slipping his hands over Daniel's, Clark interlaced their

fingers, trying not to dread what he knew was coming. He
focused on the image of a young Daniel poring over files at a
cluttered table with his proud parents.

"When Samuel Williams broke into our house, he knew he

was hunting lions, and he did it fast and hard. Williams shot
my dad in the back, breaking his spine before he even woke
up. He shot Mom under her heart, so that she'd live for a
while. First thing I knew, a man picked me up, beat me
around the head, grabbed both my wrists, and dragged me
into..." Clark heard and felt Daniel swallow, but his voice
remained matter-of-fact when he plunged ahead with his
story.

"I was used to the pictures, but the sounds and the

smell... I went hysterical, but then I saw my dad looking at
me over all that blood. His eyes were so fierce. That was
when I realized his nightstand drawer was open."

Clark went still, trying to breathe under the weight of the

mental images that assaulted him. It was too damned easy to
imagine a nightmare in man-shape raising a gun and firing;
too simple to hear the dull impact, see the way Daniel's
mother would startle awake and jerk her head to speak or
move, and then another shot, another dull noise.

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And Clark closed his eyes, thinking about a little Daniel—a

child—being dragged from bed and hurt. He wouldn't
understand, wouldn't know what was happening. Or worse
yet, he would know, and Clark felt a cold wash of sympathetic
terror. He could almost see the drawer from the vantage
point of the floor, and Clark tried to make himself stop seeing
and start listening.

Daniel sighed against Clark's ear, tightened his hold, and

continued, voice level and steady. "Dad kept his .44 in that
drawer when he went off duty. Completely forbidden to me. I
never challenged that rule. Right then and there, I knew that
he wouldn't fire that gun at the man holding me if I was in
the way. I had to get free and clear.

"I remembered the self-defense classes Mom used to

teach, and how to twist back against Williams' thumb. I broke
free, tried to run, but he grabbed me by the hair. I didn't
know how to get free of that, so I punched him in the
testicles. However, instead of doubling up in agony, he... "
Daniel paused, and a shrug moved against Clark's back. "He
ripped half my scalp off and threw me at Mom."

Clark wrapped Daniel's arms around him even tighter,

gently squeezing his hands.

"Mom rolled over me to cover me when Dad fired, and her

blood was warm against my pajamas. Dad missed, hit
Williams in the shoulder, but while that was going on, Mom
looked at me." Daniel's voice went quiet, almost tender.
"Mom had eyes like mine. Gran Gran used to say we had the
blue Eye of Sophia, eyes that were made to look evil right in
face and never back down. Mom saw me. She couldn't quite

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breathe right, but she said, 'Love you. Promise. You live. You
put him away.' I looked back, and I said, 'Yes. I will. Love
you, too, Mom.'"

Clark heard the hitch in Daniel's voice, and he made a soft

sound when Daniel pulled a hand free and it came back damp
with tears. "I still don't know why I only cry at the good part
of all this... but... well..." Daniel took a deep breath. "I
promised, Clark. I made that promise, and she died when she
got it, and I was... it took me years to be okay with how glad
I was that she died then. She wasn't hurting anymore, you
know?"

Clark felt like someone twisted a knife in his gut. Slowly he

turned and kissed Daniel's chin. "I do know," Clark said
quietly.

Giving a long, slow sigh, Daniel hugged Clark. "It... it is

easier telling you." He rubbed his eyes against Clark's shirt.
"Williams shot my dad in the head, and I didn't look. I knew
he wasn't there anymore. And I knew Mom was gone when
Williams kicked her." Again Daniel paused. "I don't know why,
but that made it easier for me to pretend I was dead. His
profile said that when he couldn't hurt his victims anymore,
he left. So when he pulled me out from under Mom and
kicked me, I just flopped. I had my promise to keep, and it
was only pain."

Clark couldn't stand it any longer. He shifted so one of his

hands wrapped around and through both sets of Daniel's
fingers, and he felt Daniel shudder. Clark lightly stroked
Daniel's arm, thinking about last night and how Daniel's
presence had kept him in the now as opposed to the then.

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Maybe Daniel didn't need the reassurance like Clark had, but
right now, Clark wanted the tactile sensation to remind him
that Daniel was alive, and well, and here with him: safe.

"Thank you for believing me," Daniel said clearly. "It's

easier when someone just listens. You wouldn't believe how
many adults don't think a kid knows what he saw, or did, or
felt. It's such a relief to be able to tell it and not change it to
make someone feel better."

"You're welcome," Clark murmured. "So what happened

then?"

"He left, just as the profile indicated. Having him leave still

surprised me, as I thought... it felt like forever, you know? I
found the phone. I remember being annoyed about the blood
making everything slippery, and called 911. Mary Innes was
on the other end. She's still the dispatcher for the
department, and to this day she swears I used all the correct
codes to tell her what happened. I just..." Daniel shifted and
stroked one hand down Clark's arm. "I just remember telling
her, 'Mary, tell them to bring him in alive. I promised Mom
I'm going to put him away.' Even as a ten-year-old, I knew
what cops did to cop-killers. She played the tape as part of
her dispatch, and they brought him in alive.

"I was the main witness at the trial. Still bald from all the

stitches, my ribs wrapped, and all yellow and green from the
bruises. I looked a mess." Daniel huffed a laugh. "The
defense didn't have a chance. I'd seen what that DA used to
do to Mom and Dad on the stand, so I was ready and nearly
disappointed when he didn't question me after my story.
When the verdict came down as guilty, I broke. Snapped. Or,

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as my family says, became a real little boy again. I..." Daniel
shivered and hugged Clark harder. "I finished what I
promised to do."

Goosebumps breaking out over his skin, Clark touched

Daniel's face. Three words rested on the back of Clark's
tongue, but he kept them choked and away from his lips.
Clark settled for kissing Daniel's jaw and gently turning his
head to kiss the side of Daniel's mouth.

"Remembering all this, I think I know why I made those

promises to you. I think I'm in love with you. I haven't
promised things to people for the longest time. But when you
asked, just because it was you, I promised three things."
Daniel ticked the items off on fingers still twined with Clark's.
"I'll always come and find you when you're down. I'll stay
with you. I'll keep you as best I'm able, though—when I said
it, I thought it was as a dom with a sub. Now we have to talk
that over, I think."

The floor opened up beneath Clark, and he happily and

eagerly fell into the place in his mind where there was
nothing but heartbeats, and breathing, and peace. Some part
of him said that life was crazy, but never this crazy. Said that
Clark should be careful. But he didn't want to be. A confusing
swirl of memory and dream and desire and ache filled him up,
and he turned in Daniel's arms and buried his face in Daniel's
neck. His lips brushed and kissed, and he felt lucky and
doomed at the same time.

But it felt good. Really good. And he thought maybe Daniel

wasn't the only one with fatalistic thoughts about the ending
of relationships, because at that moment, Clark wouldn't have

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been surprised if the earth really had opened up and
swallowed them whole. He felt too good for it to last.

Daniel cradled Clark against him, nose in Clark's hair, and

he sighed. "I'm... I'm not practiced at this lover thing. In
traditional BDSM relationships, I know what to expect, how to
expect it, and exactly where the boundaries are. I'm really,
really bad at being helpless, after all that. I can sub with
negotiations and a contract, but it's really hard." He
whispered, "I'm not as strong as you think I am."

"You're as strong as you need to be, Daniel," Clark said,

pulling back so Daniel could hear him. "You've been that way
all your life... and it's..."

Oh just say it, Clark. Guts, man.
"It's one of the reasons I love you. But you don't have to

be strong for me," Clark continued, in a breath. "You just
have to be yourself. And if that's tired and in my arms, then I
want it. If it's above me when I'm on my knees, I want it.
And if it's just in my bed wrapped around me and warm..."
Clark shrugged. "I just want you, Daniel. Just you."

Tears started flowing again from Daniel's eyes, and looking

surprised, he touched his fingertips to the wetness. "You...
how do you do that?"

"Do what? Be completely honest? I'm not sure. It's sort of

a new thing with you." Clark laughed but pressed himself
against Daniel and ran a hand up to twine in dark hair.

Daniel cried, holding onto Clark "That feels good. And I'm

glad we're here. I like... I like seeing you happy."

Humming, Clark pressed gentle kisses to Daniel's skin

anywhere his mouth could reach. He shifted so he could rise

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up and kiss Daniel's cheek, tasting the salt there. "And I'd do
anything to keep you content and safe," Clark said, rubbing
the back of Daniel's neck while he kissed the tears away.

"You would, wouldn't you?" Daniel asked, searching Clark's

eyes. "You do love me." He gave a soft laugh, wiping away
tears. "That must be why I'm crying. It's the good part."

Clark pursed his lips, mock-serious. "Remind me of this

when we go to the movies. It'll help me remember to grab
extra napkins for my boyfriend when the guy finally gets the
girl at the end."

Laughing, Daniel used Clark's knuckles to dry the tears still

in his eyes. "Yeah, good thing I don't go to the movies that
often." Daniel sighed a huge, slow, shaking sigh. "I could get
used to just sitting around with you and talking."

"Me, too," Clark said. "And speaking of talking..." Bracing

himself on the couch, Clark sat up and back, swinging his
long legs around. He hooked them over Daniel's and scooted
closer, knees bending. He leaned forward and lazily smirked
at Daniel, who cocked an eyebrow at him.

Clark grinned. "Maybe you do have the 'evil eye.' You

always look at me like you're going to chain me to a wall or
eat me for dinner when you're waiting on me to say
something."

Daniel laughed out loud. "Uhm... guilty?"
"Forgiven." Clark winked. "So long as you make good on

threats." He ran a hand through his hair. "But... really... we
should..." Clark laughed. "Shit. I'm going to blush. But we
should talk about this dom and sub stuff you mentioned

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earlier." He felt the heat creep into his cheeks. "Shouldn't
we?"

"Yes. We should. I'll admit I'm a little lost. Especially after

last night." Daniel smiled at Clark and brushed a finger
against Clark's cheek.

"After which part of last night?" he asked. It was like

Daniel's skin was Clark's new personal drug of choice.

"The... when you went down on me, and..." Now Daniel

flushed. "It's why... I have subbed, but I've never felt like I
was in sub-space, or what other people described as sub-
space. I let go last night, to the point where I needed you to
say I did well, that it was all right to be that helpless. It's a
little crazy, 'cause people have beaten me, tied me up, I've
tried all kinds of stuff, but when you..." He swallowed. "When
you just made love to me, I was so lost."

Clark's breath shuddered, both on the way into his lungs

and on the way out. Daniel stroked Clark's cheek, and he
kissed Daniel's inner wrist. "You were incredible," Clark said.
"I was so..." He thought about how hard he'd come after
Daniel got off in his mouth. "It was intense for me, too. And it
can be like that anytime you want it." Clark paused and tried
to clarify. "I want to do that for you. With you."

"I'd like that," Daniel replied. "You told me exactly what

you were going to do, and that helped a lot. You held me
after, and I needed that. I think part of what turned me on
was how turned on you were, too. I still... I want to get used
to that."

Clark thought that he would never get accustomed to

seeing Daniel undone—he wanted to savor every time it

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happened—but he tried to find some shred of himself that had
gone through negotiations and scenes. The touch on his face
was damned distracting, and Clark might have worked up
enough energy to fuss at himself for that, but Daniel's eyes
were large, deep, and kind.

And so freakin' blue in this light.
Clark cleared his throat. "Yeah, well. We can work on

that." He was proud that his voice was steady.

"I do like the thought of chaining you to a wall and eating

you whenever I want. I will admit that," Daniel said with a tilt
of his head, and Clark's cock twitched. "But I think I'm going
to go insane if I have to punish you in any way. Is that
something you want?"

"No," Clark said. "That's not how I envision this going. But

I should probably admit that I have no idea how this works.
With Brian..." Clark's breath caught when he didn't feel the
immediate stab of pain usually associated with saying his ex-
lover's name. "It was accidental. We didn't plan anything; it
just happened. Hell, I don't even know if he'd done anything
like that before or..." Clark shook his head at the gaps that
would forever be in his knowledge of Brian.

"We talked about getting back together. Doing it again.

But day-to-day? All the time?" Clark shrugged. "I don't think
that's for me." He smiled ruefully. "Everything I've had was
short-lived, and I wasn't exactly on this side of it." He felt
heat and trepidation swirl and settle.

"I haven't had much that's lasted longer than a weekend,

either," Daniel answered. "And when it lasted a whole
weekend, I was so wiped out from having to watch everything

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he did, I realized I just couldn't do that level of dominance for
that long. I'd rather just talk about what we want to do. I love
it when you call me 'Sir,' but you don't have to do it all the
time. In fact, it has more impact after you're..." Daniel
laughed. "After you've been yourself for a while. Your
surrenders are breathtaking."

Clark rubbed one hand over his face and let his arm fall,

elbow on his bent knee. "I'm still working on not kicking
myself for wanting to... surrender." The three syllables were
quite possibly the most difficult Clark had had to enunciate in
years, but he managed. "And you're right; there's too much
to spell it all out in one conversation. I like the idea of talking,
and I like the idea of letting it just happen." Clark frowned.
"Within reason."

"I'll do my best to help you not kick yourself," Daniel said.

"I love it when you give to me so thoroughly, especially
because I see you as being so strong, so independent, and so
obviously dominant. When you asked for what you wanted, it
was easy. The more I know of what you like, the more
confident I can be."

Clark's face and body flushed. The images that flashed

through his mind of pent-up fantasies that might not only get
voiced, but also fulfilled, made the room rock. Clark kissed
Daniel, just to find some ground and distract himself from his
sudden inability to quit blushing like a helpless seventeen-
year-old.

"Mm..." Daniel's tongue gently probed Clark's mouth, his

hands running over Clark's t-shirt. He broke the kiss and

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sighed. "Bad form, this, negotiating while I have my hands on
you."

Clark made a soft, entirely eager noise, and he winced. He

licked Daniel's lower lip and breathed against the wet skin,
one hand going back around to play in Daniel's hair. "Well, it's
easier for me to talk about it when I'm hard." Clark grinned,
playful with his eyes closed. "If that helps ease the guilt."

"Oh, good." Daniel laughed. "A reason for me to break my

own rules. It's easy to make exceptions for you. You're worth
every broken rule, every moment of confusion, every time I
hesitate wondering if I should jump, 'cause when I do...
God..." Daniel's hands slid under Clark's t-shirt. "Every time I
take the chances you give, it's well worth it."

Clark swallowed, pulse getting faster. The word

"exception" did a waltz in Clark's mind, and he felt the banter
do away with the other walls and resistance Clark normally
kept. Pulling himself closer, Clark's hands found their way to
Daniel's bare back, playing along Daniel's spine. Clark didn't
kiss the lips that were a breath away from his own mouth; he
liked the tease.

"So tell me, Clark," Daniel murmured, "What kind of things

have you dreamed of doing?"

Clark bit back the response that sprung to mind—
You mean other than you?
—knowing it was reflex. And, while true, it wasn't what

Daniel wanted. Or what Clark wanted, for that matter.

Taking in the couch, Daniel, and their position in the room,

Clark played all the possibilities through his mind in two
heartbeats. He tried to talk, and the words died little deaths

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in the wake of having to say what he wanted. Clark felt dizzy
with deja vu. He wondered if Daniel understood how hard it
was, really, to render Clark speechless under normal
circumstances.

"Um," Clark said intelligently. He shook his head to try to

clear it, leaning closer on reflex.

Laughing, Daniel stroked his hands across the smooth skin

of Clark's chest. "I love it when you lean just that little bit
toward me," Daniel said. "How hard is that?"

Clark thought about it and shivered with Daniel's low voice

in his ears. "It's not," Clark said softly, a little surprised that it
was true. He turned his head so their cheeks brushed. An
image appeared in his mind, and he shuddered again, forcing
himself to feel the heat of that conjured thought without
recrimination. This was Daniel.

Guilt need not apply.
Daniel's hand moved to the back of Clark's neck, brushing

against the short hairs there, fingers closing. "Good. I'm glad.
Tell me, please?"

Clark opened his eyes and made a humming sound. His

hands flexed and moved aimlessly over Daniel's body, and he
hated that the edge of the couch prevented him from getting
closer while they sat in a tangle of limbs.

"Nothing, really," Clark rumbled, half-convinced it was silly

and half-sure Daniel would enjoy what Clark wanted to
confess. He spoke in Daniel's ear, tongue teasing out to taste.
"Never been taken from behind. Just thinking about that."

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Daniel's breath went short. "Whew, Clark. Never, hm?

That's a very enticing thought. It's so interesting, as
experienced as we both are, just what we haven't done."

Clark pulled away, letting Daniel's hand catch and hold

him. "Yes," Clark said, feeling like he was balancing on a
knife's edge and not really sure why. "It... yes. Interesting."

Images of men confessing things they wanted filled Clark's

mind, and he thought of fate, and irony, and female dogs.
Clark let out a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been
holding. "I like the idea of your weight. On me. And maybe..."
Clark's heart tried to stop, but once it found its rhythm again,
Clark continued, more-or-less steadily. "Take away the use of
my hands. So that I..." Clark went quiet, unable to finish.

"So you can't touch me? Or push me away? So, in front of

you," Daniel breathed. "You have rope or cuffs here?"

Clark felt the increasingly familiar sensation of not quite

being connected to his own body. He nodded. "Crate under
the bed. Both cuffs and rope in it." Clark couldn't tell if his
voice sounded small or just breathless. Maybe both.

"And... slow." Clark looked Daniel in the eye, feeling like it

was a personal challenge to himself. Get through this and he
could walk on glass next. "Fast and hard doesn't get me. Slow
and teasing will."

"After two amazing orgasms last night, not having to deal

with Adam teasing me, and since it's not my first time with
you... I think I can do slow," Daniel said dryly. "Do you mind
if I come with you to see what's in the crate?"

Clark pressed his lips together and looked away from

Daniel, mind in the eye of a hurricane. He felt warm and

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thought he might be blushing. His heart beat against his
sternum.

Am I really doing this?
Clark's shoulders tightened. "Sure," he said, with an

automatic smile as he got up and headed toward the
bedroom. Clark counted his steps until he knelt next to the
bed and reached for the crate underneath it. While this felt
sudden, it was also moving slowly enough that he could think.
That was both good and bad.

Good because he knew it was the safer route; this path led

to more anticipation and chances to chat before things got
underway.

Bad because it gave Clark entirely too much time to think

about what he'd told Daniel—

Slow and teasing will get me there.
—and to feel overwhelmed by the entire situation. It

wasn't that he was afraid of Daniel. The man wouldn't hurt
Clark. It was more that this felt entirely deliberate. There was
no breathless confession or cover of darkness to mask what
they were doing. Clark didn't know whether to be proud of
that or worried about himself. Wincing, Clark got out the
crate and removed the lid.

Daniel settled close enough to lean against Clark and

peered into the plastic container. "I asked you about what
you want to get a feel for what you like and what you don't.
We don't have to do this now if you don't want to." Daniel
grinned wryly. "We could wait until after lunch, or just talk."

Clark uttered a surprised laugh. "Thanks for that," he said

honestly. "It's just..." Clark swallowed audibly and spoke in a

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quiet voice near a whisper. "It's just new. And I keep having
to remind myself that this is... okay. Allowed?" He shook his
head. "I feel like if I back down, I won't go through with it,
and..." Clark looked toward Daniel, but didn't meet his eyes.
"I want it."

Worry made Clark frown. "But if you want to wait, we don't

have to. I didn't mean to rush you."

Daniel kissed Clark. "If you want it, I want you. Want you

to know it's not just allowed, but desired, treasured. That you
doing this for me doesn't just turn me on, it makes me
amazed at how much you trust me." Daniel took a deep
breath. "I was worried about forcing your hand, so I thought I
should say something. Now I'm glad I did." He turned back to
the crate, his hand caressing one of Clark's, a quick touch.
"All right. What have you got here?"

"The usual," Clark said, voice low. His skin felt too tight,

and he sighed at himself. "Cuffs, bars, you know the drill."
Clark rummaged around in the crate, and metal clanked as it
was moved aside. "These aren't bad," Clark said, holding up a
set of thigh and wrist cuffs that were tangled into a knot.

"Hm." Daniel took the offered restraints. "I'm starting to

think that I'd like your hands not just tied together, but tied
to your legs, so that you really can't use them. I want you to
be able to spread your knees as much as you need to, so
nothing that restricts your leg movement, but... What do you
think?"

Clark looked at the handful of buckles and leather now in

Daniel's grasp and stamped on the fluttery sensation the

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words caused. He tilted his head, thinking that analytical
would be a good approach here.

"Makes sense," Clark said. "You could... hm..." He

removed a stretchy cord with metal clasp hooks on either
end. "Link the thigh cuffs with this for movement. Hook the
cuffs on the wrists with the single link—it's got a ring—and
attach down." He picked up another cord, contemplative. "It
would allow for movement, but not much. Not enough to, say,
bend arms, but plenty to rearrange position or spread knees."

Daniel sighed happily, and the hand not occupied with the

cuffs gently stroked Clark's thigh. "Good. I like that setup. Is
there anything else you want to show me?"

Clark told himself to calm the hell down, and he couldn't

help but consider all the times he'd been in Daniel's position:
kneeling with a nervous but eager partner and talking about
what they were going to do.

Never been quite like this, though.
Looking at the open crate, Clark slowly shook his head,

mouth pursed as he considered the mental image of himself
on his stomach, tied and...

Shivering and unable to control it, Clark turned and caught

sight of the free-standing oval mirror in the corner of the
room. He saw his face and was equal parts amazed and
shocked at his transparent expression and body language. He
was so simple for Daniel to read as to be laughable. He
gaped, unsure of himself.

Clark sighed when Daniel wrapped an arm around him. "I

think we have what we need, then. Let's get back to the
couch?"

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Nodding on autopilot, Clark said, "Sure," and tore his eyes

away from the mirror. He snapped the lid back on the crate
and shoved it under the bed before standing up. Daniel led
the way, and when they got to the sunlit room of the open
loft, Daniel stopped by the sofa and waited.

Gaze everywhere and nowhere, Clark thought about Daniel

and Brian, about trust and hope and how crazy it was that the
things a person wanted were often so buried as to be painful
when excavated from the ruins of self-denial. He remembered
some of the times he'd bottomed, about the way he'd refuse
to move if asked to face down. He knew it was silly, but Clark
had never been comfortable with his back to anyone. It was
something ingrained, something alive and deep.

Always keep your back to a wall and your eyes on the exit,

son.

Clark ran his hand through his hair and put his father's

voice away. This wasn't dangerous. This wasn't stupid or silly.
This was just Daniel. And Clark. And the couch.

Slowly, Clark walked over to Daniel, stopping within arm's

reach. He looked at the dark eyes in silent question.

How do we do this?
Daniel touched Clark's jaw before leaning forward for a

slow kiss. Then he asked rather than told. "All right... how
about we get the line on you, then the cuffs? Then you'll get
on the couch, get situated the way you want, and we'll hook it
all together?"

Clark stared at Daniel, grateful for the kiss and the

question. Daniel's mouth and touch were quickly becoming
the fastest way to tranquility. "Sounds okay," Clark said, and

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he reached down to take off his t-shirt, trying to ignore the
way that his skin jumped.

Once the shirt was off, Daniel stepped forward, quickly

untying the top of the sweatpants. He ran his hands beneath
underwear and over Clark's ass as he pushed the cloth back.
Clark's lips parted as Daniel knelt, sliding fingertips down one
of Clark's legs to free that foot from the pant leg.

Clark braced a hand on Daniel's shoulder. With Daniel

kneeling and touching him, Clark went from half-aroused to
fully hard. The room was entirely too warm and got warmer
when Daniel's hands roamed along Clark's legs. Gentle lips
brushed along Clark's scars and across to his length, ending
with a lick of the tip. Clark gasped and clenched Daniel's
shoulder as the professor picked up the thigh cuffs, wrapping
one around Clark's leg and fastening it.

Daniel tugged on the cuff. "Does that feel all right?"
Clark yanked himself out of a fog of lust. "Er... yeah..."

Clark said gruffly. He flexed the large muscle in his leg and
nodded. "Good."

Daniel picked up the other cuff, put it on Clark, and linked

the cuffs with a cord. The binding didn't affect Clark much,
but the cord between the cuffs did. It didn't restrict him like
this, but hearing the soft click of the clasp made something
jump low in Clark's gut.

"Hold out your hands?" Daniel grabbed the wrist cuffs,

licking up Clark's hard on and kissing the tip before standing.
The slick warmth of Daniel's mouth didn't distract Clark quite
as much the second time, and his heart began to pound.
Reminding himself that he had asked for this, he held out his

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hands in loose fists, wrists up. He didn't know whether to go
with the flow or kick himself for being so easily affected.

Daniel buckled on the cuffs, giving them a good, hard pull.

He linked them together with the panic release and tugged to
test the clasp. It came apart easily. Daniel put the bolt back
together and asked, "Please, pull that for me."

With a smirk, Clark braced and yanked viciously on the

cuffs and link. The muscles in his arms burned with the
sudden, demanding motion, and he was pleased when
everything held.

Mostly.
Grinning, Daniel nodded "Good. Onto the couch, then,

facing whichever way is more comfortable."

Clark turned his head. Heat and something like panic made

him want to sway on his feet. He didn't falter, but he didn't
move toward the couch, either.

"Daniel," Clark said quietly, eyes on the furniture. "Kiss me

first... please?"

Daniel's breath caught, and Daniel stroked Clark's side,

throat, and jaw before kissing him. Lips and tongue reassured
and aroused, Clark kissed greedily, trying not to attack the
other man's mouth. The contact and careful touches made it
easier to cope with the bindings, with being naked and
vulnerable and needy.

But feeling Daniel's mouth slide over his lips also made it

harder for Clark to rise above the undertow that pulled him
down; it wasn't a place where Clark forgot his sense of self,
but the feeling reminded Clark of water and breathing. The
kiss made it easier to feel the restriction around his wrists

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and upper thighs, but more difficult to ignore his hard on and
how much he wanted to be face down on the couch, unable to
fight it, unable to control...

Clark moaned and broke the kiss to pant.
Daniel murmured, "Please get on the couch?"
Clark didn't answer, merely turned and contemplated.

After a second, he sat normally. In the back of his mind, he
thought hooking his wrists to the strap between his knees
would be easier like this. But mostly all he could think about
was not being able to move much after being secured, and his
cock pulsed when he thought about having to swing his legs
up and lie down.

Daniel knelt and hooked the links to the strap between

Clark's knees. Clark got a flash of oceanic eyes before harsh
lips pressed against his own, forcing thought to flee in the
wake of want. Teeth against his lips and tongue pushing into
his mouth, Daniel's warm palms pressed against his chest to
pinch his nipples. With a moan ending in a soft cry that Daniel
swallowed, Clark automatically tried to raise his hands. He
couldn't do much more than run fingertips over Daniel's bare
stomach. Clark felt an ache in his gut that made him shake
and heard a rushing sound in his ears that reminded him of
the ocean.

Daniel shuddered and broke the kiss with a shaky, "God,

Clark..." Daniel panted. "Right... slow. Teasing... we can do
this... All right, let's get you up."

"Yeah," Clark rasped. Clark fell to his left and lifted his legs

at the same time. He realized that the binding managed to
put his erection between his wrists. Pulling up on the cord

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between his legs would dig the clasp into his balls, and the
angle made it so that his wrists could actually tighten, but it'd
be a tease to his cock and little else.

The discovery made Clark tense on his side. Immediately

he felt Daniel's hand on his flank, petting skin. Daniel made
soft, encouraging noises as Clark rolled to his front.

Clark grimaced and rocked until he could get his erection

on the couch without metal digging into tender skin. He found
that he could lie mostly flat, and the couch was soft enough
he could rest on his arms comfortably. He had to keep his
legs spread, however, to make room for his bound wrists.
Clark shifted and gasped when the couch gave him friction.

One hand stroked down Clark's back, leaving a lingering

touch along Clark's ass in the air. "I forgot the condoms in the
other room. No need to mess up your couch," Daniel said. "I'll
be right back."

Clark said nothing and counted Daniel's steps toward the

back of the loft. Fighting with himself mentally and physically,
Clark grunted as he finally found a way to lie that didn't strain
any part of his body. He breathed hard, closed his eyes, and
gritted his teeth at how his legs were spread. Any effort to
close them did painful things to his nuts and shoulders when
they shifted to take the weight. It was maddening, and he
flexed his hands in the cuffs. Finding them just as secure as
they had been moments ago, Clark made a frustrated noise.
He hated this, but he was diamond hard, and he felt the loss
of Daniel's touch on his skin like frostbite burning flesh.

For a second, Clark contemplated ways out. Could he

break the cuffs? Rolling off the couch was definitely an option,

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and on his back, he could probably get loose. The cords were
stretchy. He could probably snap one, at the risk of the end
flying and flicking something he really didn't want subjected
to whiplash, but he could do it.

Clark realized with a moment of clarity that he was trying

to get out of a situation he had willingly put himself into, and
he cursed under his breath. Turning his head into the couch
cushion, Clark shut his eyes, thinking it was just easier in
darkness. He listened to the sounds in the loft, wondering at
a few of them, and waited, trying to keep his breathing slow
and even.

Footsteps told Clark when Daniel drew close again, and

knots of unease loosened even as new knots of anticipation
started to form. Clark kept his eyes shut and his face pressed
against the sofa.

"Look at me," Daniel said softly. Clark craned his neck and

blinked at the "Eat Me" sign covering Daniel's crotch before
offering a wry smile.

"Glad you chose —" Clark stopped speaking when his eyes

caught movement, and he froze. Level with Clark's head and
angled to reflect the entire couch was Clark's oval mirror. His
eyes went wide.

"What do you see?"
Clark's mouth hung open, and suddenly he struggled to

find air. He saw himself reflected back, flushed skin, messy
hair, the muscles of his shoulders standing out. He saw his
own expression: shock, fear, need, want... helplessness. That
hit him harder than anything else. He looked in the mirror

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and saw a man at the mercy of another, and his panting
became toned whimpers.

"Perfect," Daniel whispered. "You are, you know that?"
Daniel skinned out of the boxers and tossed them aside

before sitting down in front of Clark. Putting one leg over
Clark and the other along the edge of the couch, Daniel rolled
Clark's body closer, while supporting his head. "Please, help
make me hard enough?"

Clark's eyes slid to half mast, and without hesitation, he

bent his head to lap and suck Daniel's cock. He moaned and
let his tongue work, eyes unseeing, only thinking about the
feel of Daniel around him and between his lips. Daniel tasted
like soap and salt, and Clark lapped hard, pressing along the
underside.

One hand braced Clark's body weight and held his head in

position, and Daniel's cock filled and hardened quickly. Clark
moaned, brow furrowed as he turned his head to find a better
angle, taking and keeping Daniel deep. He felt the hand on
his skin like a pinpoint burn, and he shivered when Daniel's
cock hit the back of his throat and made him clamp his lips
down even harder. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked, and
when Clark had to pull back for air, he toyed with the slit:
light flicks and a slow circle of wet tongue.

"Look at yourself in the mirror," Daniel murmured. "See

how amazing you are, your mouth filled with my cock." A
shudder rolled through Daniel's body.

Clark obediently looked, and the sight of himself made him

squirm and writhe even as he fought to hold still, to swallow
Daniel. It was sensory overload. The scene in the mirror was

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hot, but it was him, which made him want to look away.
There was also Daniel, and God but Clark loved seeing Daniel
roll and move in the reflection. Clark tried to find working
brain cells and didn't manage it; all he could find was the
sheer need for Daniel and the crazy urge to obey, which made
heat simmer low in his body and then move to center in his
cock. Daniel set the pace, and Clark moaned and whined
around Daniel, writhing again. He flexed his wrists on his own
length, making him squirm even more.

All too soon, the hands on Clark's neck and in Clark's hair

tightened, and Daniel groaned, "Enough. That's enough."
Daniel pushed Clark against the couch, pulling his mouth off
Daniel's cock. Immediately Clark missed the feel of hard flesh
between his lips, and he breathed heavily. Daniel untangled
to move off the couch and kneel to the side.

"I'd like a kiss, please." Daniel's voice was firm. "And I

want to see your face when I take you, Clark. With the
mirror, I can."

Breathing harder and not even trying to get it under

control, Clark shifted to lie on his stomach, but lifted his head
and wet his lips. "Anything," Clark said quietly, and held
himself still for Daniel's mouth.

"Good," Daniel said before kissing Clark. "Very good," he

said huskily. He moved behind Clark, warm belly and chest
pressing flush against Clark's back.

"Oh God," Clark gasped, nearly choking on need even at

the simple touch. "Please?" It came out as a question, and
Clark shuddered at the feeling of Daniel against him, pressing
down and touching and teasing.

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"Just straight. No prep, then," Daniel said with a breathless

chuckle as he wrapped one hand, finger by finger, around
Clark's length. Clark's eyes fluttered open in shock and want,
and he gasped when he saw them moving in the mirror. The
hand around his cock made his hips grind, body ignoring
anything but the need for more.

Heart beating with bruising force against his ribs and

sweat rolling along his temples and sides, Clark bit his lip,
rasping a gasp when Daniel smiled lazily, meeting Clark's
eyes in the mirror. Then Daniel leaned forward, putting all his
weight on Clark before closing sharp teeth on the back of
Clark's neck for a single, hard bite.

Air and noise caught in Clark's throat. Everything was

exactly as he wanted it, and sensation hit him over and over
like—

Violent waves...
—punches to his nervous system and mental defenses.

This was Daniel doing this to him.

A swift uppercut.
Daniel's hands on his skin, body pressing him into the

couch.

Body blow, breath driven from lungs.
Daniel's hand around his cock, teeth in his skin, hardness

against his backside.

Kidney shot.
And Clark could see it all in the mirror.
Flying jab to jaw.

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Clark couldn't move. He flexed his hands, felt metal dig

into his balls, and wanted Daniel to fuck him so badly he
couldn't see straight.

Haymaker. Down and done.
"Oh fucking God, Sir... feels so... oh God..." Clark whined

the last two words and didn't care. The sheer, naked need
overrode all else, and he choked on a sound when Daniel's
arms pulled his hips toward the spit and pre-come slicked
cock pressed against the crack of his ass.

Daniel grunted, and Clark panted, unable to put words

together. Daniel ran his tongue down Clark's spine, and Clark
rolled beneath Daniel's weight. Clark flexed his hands, turning
them, and let go of a shout that devolved into a breathy gasp
when the move got him nothing but teasing discomfort.
Clark's eyes fluttered shut, and he resisted the temptation to
move or think.

Panting, Daniel released Clark's cock. One hand pressed

against the small of Clark's back. There was the sound of
tearing foil, unrolling rubber, and then another ripping sound
before Daniel's fingers clasped Clark's cock. The sensation of
a cool, wet condom touched him.

"Oh... yeah... God..." Clark choked, holding his breath in

between gasps. He tried to shift to make Daniel's task easier,
found he couldn't. He rubbed his face against the couch,
helpless and desperate. The sickly yellow tint of shame
colored some of what he felt, and he buried his face in the
cushions, happy when it made breathing harder and muffled
his sounds.

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Daniel chuckled, cheek against Clark's skin as he fumbled.

Finally, he got the latex started and rolled the condom onto
Clark, fingers in a firm circle that slowly teased down Clark's
length. The motion made Clark's body tighten, and for a
horrifying second what Daniel did felt too good, which was
crazy. Insane. Made everything burn.

Blinking, Clark went lax against the couch and told himself

to stay still. The urge to fight, buck, move, shift, and just do
beat against Clark's mind and reflexes, but he forced himself
to feel Daniel's body against him, feel the rough stubble on
his back. Clark sighed, dazed, when Daniel kissed his
shoulder blade, hands stroking down to cup his ass. Fingers
teased Clark's balls, and there was the click of a cap. The wet
sound of lube on latex forced Clark's legs to spread wider of
their own accord. When a flare of pain went up the side of his
face, he realized he had clenched his teeth. Forcing his jaws
apart, Clark turned his face and breathed out a shaking sigh.

"Sir... I... please..." Clark shook his head, eyes closing.
"Please, what?" Daniel asked softly, hand moving in slow

circles over Clark's damp skin.

Forcing some clarity, Clark spoke in a low rasp. "I need...

you against me. And..." Clark struggled to focus. "Just more.
Your hands, mouth... talk to me? Anything... just don't want
to think."

"Talk?" Daniel chuckled. "All right, Clark. I'll do that. It'd

be good to remind you that it's me behind you, let you know
how much I want you, how much having you give yourself
this way makes me all kinds of insane. But first, I think I'm
going to get myself inside you."

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Clark groaned, long, low, and loud. He opened his eyes,

looked into the mirror, and saw Daniel. It reminded Clark of
what was coming, and the frantic need swirled and ignited in
him again. Using muscles he didn't know he had, Clark's
knees bit into the couch and his ass rose in invitation and
demand. The move pulled his arms, the cord, and everything
shifted, but Clark didn't care.

There was only the mirror, the memory of Daniel inside

Clark, and the hunger for Daniel to do as he said he would—
fuck Clark long and slow.

"God, Clark, I love how you're asking for this with every

part of your body," Daniel rasped. His tip pressed to Clark's
unprepared entrance, and his hands braced against Clark's
hips. Clark's eyes went wide, and then Daniel leaned forward
and pushed. Clark grunted and sucked in a sharp breath. He
felt himself stretch and pull, his body working fast to
accommodate Daniel.

"Fuck yeah," Clark panted like he'd just run for miles in

desert heat. "Oh, my God, Sir, yes!"

Daniel gasped and slowly, slowly pushed in deeper. Clark

felt himself flex, flutter, and squeeze around Daniel's cock.
His eyes rolled and his lids lowered as he felt Daniel in the
back of his throat. It burned, ached, and required things of
his body that Clark struggled to give, willing muscles to work
despite the fact that they were beyond his control. Clark
shuddered. This was more than what Clark merely wanted,
more than what he needed. It was just bliss.

Once seated, Daniel leaned against Clark's back, arms

going around him, lips on that spot between Clark's shoulders

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that no one could reach for themselves. Daniel shivered, hips
rolling in slow, short strokes, and Clark's small sounds of
want got louder, breathier.

Daniel whispered, "I love the noises you're making, love

the tone of your desire. I want more of that." Daniel's hands
moved up Clark's belly and chest to finger nipples, pinching
and pulling at one and then both. Clark stuttered over a two-
toned cry of pure pleasure, and his brain sizzle-snap-fried. His
hands formed into fists, and he hated that he couldn't brace
or grip or hold. Clark had to lie there and take whatever
Daniel gave, and he cried out as he rode that thought out to
sea.

"Oh, lord, Clark... you keep doing that," Daniel said,

breathlessly reassuring. Clark shuddered.

"That's it... just... like... that..." And with each word Daniel

gave a long stroke into Clark, pulling nearly all the way out
and then sliding all the way back in until Clark could feel
Daniel's balls brushing his thighs. Whining, high and sudden,
Clark jerked in his bonds. He whimper-moaned and stopped
struggling, his eyes flying open as the slow burn of pleasure
teased down his spine and settled in his gut. In the mirror, he
saw Daniel moving on top of him, and Clark watched with
glazed eyes.

"Oooh..." Clark exhaled, the noise quiet and shocked.
"I love seeing you like this," Daniel murmured. "Letting

go... and those sounds turn me on so much." Eyes on Clark's
in the mirror, Daniel changed the angle of his thrusts.

Clark's mouth fell open when Daniel brushed his prostate

and turned the slow swirl of heat into a dizzying bonfire that

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ignited in Clark's abdomen. Fever scorched over his skin, and
his cock leaked, twitched, and ached in its hardness. There
was barely any friction, thanks to the latex and Daniel's
tortuously slow pace, and two thoughts wailed and warred in
Clark's brain.

Oh God, I'm never going to come like this, and it's never

going to stop.

And contradictory and hot on those thoughts' heels like

burning bricks into a pool of cold water:

Holy shit, I think I'm going to come screaming if he...

keeps...

"Oh, yeah, give that to me," Daniel said, and picked up the

pace. Sweat beaded and rolled, and each hard thrust became
a slap of skin on skin.

In the mirror, Clark's brow creased and his eyes narrowed.

His body began to tense and tighten, making him feel out of
his mind. Everything was so damned slow even as Daniel
quickened the rhythm. Crazily, Clark felt like Daniel was
controlling more than just his hands and body: it felt like
Daniel had bound Clark's brain and cock and wrestled all
sense of normalcy and control away. He would come when
Daniel's body damned well let him, and Clark thrashed as the
orgasm built but didn't break, as the pleasure rose but didn't
crest.

"Shit," Clark called, teeth clenched and voice stunningly

loud in comparison to his seconds-ago silence. "Fucking...
please, oh God, Sir, oh please... Jesus... I can't..." He
shuddered hard, every muscle tensing, torso twisting and
then thrashing against the bonds. Leaning heavily against

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Clark's back, Daniel wrapped his arms around Clark's sides
and chest and somehow managed to pull himself even
deeper. Clark gave a sobbing cry at the weight and the
helpless feeling of being so thoroughly taken.

I can't fucking move.
Daniel's cock dragged over Clark's prostate with every

thrust, and Clark began calling out in broken yells every time
he did it.

Feels too goddamned good. This is going to kill me. Tear

me in half.

The friction on Clark's chest, the fast breathing on his skin,

the shuddering of the man on top of him, it was all just...

Love it... love it... Christ, need it... can't...
Clark's eyes flew open, wide and wild. His mouth parted in

a silent scream, and the orgasm was just suddenly there.
Everything shattered, released liked a spring flood through a
cracking wall of winter ice. Clark lost himself, whimpering
when Daniel put one last hard stroke to Clark before he came,
too, bucking hard and crying out, arms tightening even more
around Clark until he lay trembling.

When the aftershocks finally subsided, Clark went limp and

loose beneath the perfect weight of Daniel's body, and he
blinked damp eyes. He couldn't even form a thought about
that or anything else—not even to focus on breathing—and
merely lay still.

Eventually, Daniel moved, sighing as he slipped from

Clark. He ran his hands along damp skin and laid a kiss
against Clark's spine. "You are incredible."

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Daniel unfastened the clasp from the cuffs to the line and

opened the panic release. Clark pulled his right arm from
beneath him and reached up to rub at his eyes, the arm
taking more effort than usual to move. He was sore, aching in
more than a few places, and he felt stripped, raw but good.

Daniel got off Clark and stroked Clark's side before he

stepped to turn the mirror away from them. He knelt by
Clark's head, fingers sifting through Clark's hair. "Want me to
hold you for a bit, or would you rather get a little help into
the shower?"

Clark tried to speak and found it harder than it ever should

be. In lieu of words, he caught Daniel's hand and looked at
deep blue eyes until he could say, "Stay..." He was shocked
at how rough his voice was.

Nodding, Daniel squeezed Clark's hand and let go to strip

off his condom. Then he sat on the couch and pulled Clark
into his lap. Clark buried his face against Daniel's neck and
wrapped one arm around Daniel, feeling like he still rocked on
high seas. Daniel held Clark, stroked fingertips along his bare
back and arms, and breathed into his hair, "I'm here. I've got
you, Clark."

For a long few moments, Clark listened to Daniel's

heartbeat and breathing. He mentally checked himself over
and found peace instead of tension and a quiet drone
between his ears instead of impatient voices telling him he
was doing something wrong. It was... nice.

Clark held Daniel tightly and realized that when he was

this close to Daniel, anything became reasonable. It was
crazy to be here after so little time, but part of Clark felt like

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he'd been waiting for or been with Daniel forever. And there
was no guilt here, no panic, no need to hide.

Just my Daniel.
Clark sighed and wiped his eyes again.
Daniel murmured into Clark's hair, "How are you doing?"
"Okay," Clark answered. He cleared his throat and

coughed. "Ironic, but okay." Clark kissed the corner of
Daniel's mouth.

"I think so." Daniel kissed Clark's hair, and Clark told

himself this was all right. He was not some fragile innocent,
but rather someone who'd been through the equivalent of an
emotional gauntlet in the past twenty-four hours. Clark
remembered Daniel saying he thought he loved Clark, and
Clark thought about rules and exceptions—and about how the
latter negated the first. And he recalled something he'd told
many a sub after a long session.

It's just me... just us... you're safe here...
Clark sighed, smirked, and licked a nipple as he shifted in

Daniel's arms.

Daniel laughed. "Welcome back."
Clark hummed. "Thank you... for..." Clark paused, breath

catching. Daniel stroked Clark's back, and finally Clark rose
up and caught Daniel's lips in a chaste kiss. He looked at the
other man, thinking of dark pools and endless oceans. "For all
of it," Clark finished.

"You're very welcome." Daniel said with a smile and a nod.

"Thank you for being courageous enough to try it. It's good to
know you liked what I did."

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Frowning, Clark stroked a thumb over Daniel's cheekbone.

"No, not just that..." Clark shook his head, realizing the tone
and the words called to mind images of clients. "For being
you. For being trustworthy and for putting up with me." Clark
met Daniel's gaze and kissed him again. "For keeping your
promise."

Daniel struggled for air, bit his lip, and then hugged Clark

hard. "Thank you," Daniel murmured.

Clark wrapped around Daniel and held him steady and

firm. "I know you, and I've got you, too," Clark said, reaching
up to stroke Daniel's hair. This was better; unrehearsed
Daniel was good.

"You do." Daniel's hold didn't relax, but he lowered his

head and rested his chin against Clark's hair. "You startle me
with what you see, since I'm so used to being other people's
fantasies. That you care to know who I am feels amazing."

For a long few minutes, Clark said nothing, content. Just

being with Daniel was nice, mere existence made better by
the solid presence.

Eventually, however, the need to move and his fastidious

nature demanded a shift and a shower. Kissing dusky skin,
Clark pulled back to stretch, arching his back and hearing it
crack. He laughed. "A few more rounds with you, and my
chiropractor will start asking difficult questions."

Grinning, Daniel replied, "I'll happily pay him whatever I

owe him for the privilege."

Daniel ran warm hands over Clark, and Clark groaned,

muttering something about death and Daniel having it in for
him. He bit the damnable man's shoulder. Daniel winced.

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"I'll keep that in mind when he asks if I've been hog-tied

lately, and I have to think about it before I answer."
Smirking, Clark rolled and started to get up off the couch. He
undid the cuffs around his legs with only a mild tilt of his
head. Tossing the straps onto the couch to be dealt with later,
Clark smiled at Daniel. "About that shower..."

Daniel asked a wary, "Yes?"
Clark backed up two steps and cocked a brow at Daniel.

"What, you going to make me take one alone? Who knows
what kind of trouble I could find with an hour's worth of hot
water and no supervision?" Clark clucked his tongue and
turned on his heel.

Laughing, Daniel followed. "Guess I'd better come

supervise, then, hm?"

Clark looked over his shoulder, thinking he could get used

to this man and even this particular kind of afterglow. No, it
wasn't easy—Clark wasn't sure it ever would be. And maybe
that was better in some ways. Clark still got chills from the
idea of Daniel under him, moaning like last night. But better
still was the easy banter and contentment that came from
knowing Daniel wanted to be here with Clark. It reminded
Clark of when they first met at Glow.

Thinking about how many fools across his bar had told him

their tales of love and lust at first sight, Clark shook his head
and smiled at Daniel. "Yeah... you probably should at that."

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Chapter 10

Coming to consciousness, Daniel quickly oriented himself.

Clark lay next to him, warm and solid, softly snoring, and the
quiet sounds of the loft felt familiar, comforting. He swung
out of bed, used the restroom, washed his hands, and eyed
himself in the mirror.

A single weekend, and everything felt different. It was

Sunday night, and in the morning he needed to take the Tesla
back to the university. Daniel and Clark had worked out how
to charge the car from the outlets in Clark's building. It was a
small thing, but with a power source for his car, Daniel could
come and go as he pleased.

He turned off the bathroom lights, slid back into the bed,

and contemplated the weekend. Starting as roughly as it had,
the last day and a half surprised Daniel with how smoothly he
and Clark fit together. A few things still hung unresolved as
Monday approached. Daniel dreaded working them out over
the phone in the middle of his insane task list, and wanted to
know when he'd see Clark again. It felt like they'd covered
ten years in less than forty-eight hours, and Daniel was
getting entirely too comfortable having Clark around.

Shifting, Daniel's thoughts turned to the client scheduled

for Wednesday. The idea made him feel torn and confused.
After the incredible connection with Clark, it felt strange to
think about going back to the strictures and rules of his
business.

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"You're doing that thing where you think so hard it makes

my head hurt, which is impressive since I'm half asleep,"
Clark said, voice muffled by his pillow.

Daniel laughed and rolled flush against Clark's back, his

arm going around the lean man. "Mm... am I? Is that mind
reading, or are you just asleep enough to think I'm a dream?"

"Mmm... warm..." Clark muttered, turning his head. He

yawned. "You are a dream. Any second now, I'm going to
wake up hungover and surrounded by empty whiskey bottles.
Just know it." Clark caught Daniel's arm under his own.

Daniel hugged him with a slow, contented sigh. "Mm...

right. With your tongue tasting like cotton and your head in a
vise. Teach you not to drink enough water when you're
drunk."

"One would think," Clark said, managing a sleepy version

of forlorn. He squeezed Daniel's hand. "What's bothering you
in the middle of the night, Professor?"

"Oh, wondering when I get to see you again once our week

starts up. I think I'll just leave you my house key, since I
have the extra one buried in the garden," Daniel said. "It's
funny, but I'm going to miss you tomorrow morning. We've
been so close these last two days."

Lips moving into a lazy smile, Clark rolled in Daniel's arms

and pulled him into an embrace. "Close is good." Clark
sighed. "And house keys..." He paused. "I've got a spare, too.
I'll give it to you tomorrow before you go. And I could bring
you lunch. Make sure you eat something. Or you could come
by the bar after work." Clark shrugged and slid his hands up
and down Daniel's bare back. "Want to see you, too."

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Daniel chuckled, skin awakening with Clark's caresses.

"You do read minds. How did you know I keep missing lunch?
That would work tomorrow, but Wednesday I have a client, so
I'd probably have to miss out unless you want to come to my
house after you close? I get home about midnight."

Clark's eyes opened, and he looked at Daniel. His

expression changed—sleepy to thinking—but his hands kept
moving over Daniel's body. "A client?" he asked evenly.

"Yes," Daniel answered. "He's a regular, and mid-week has

worked out well for both of us." Stating the facts gave Daniel
some distance from his own uncertainty.

Clark licked his lips. "I get it," he said. "These people

depend on you to serve a purpose. Trust you. But..." Clark
shook his head and smiled ruefully. "I don't like it very
much."

"You don't?" Daniel swallowed, composure melting in the

heat behind Clark's words. "I'm not sure I do, either. Not
after this." He stroked Clark's back. "But I have a couple of
nieces and a nephew depending on me to put 'em through
college. I can't do it on my regular salary."

Clark made a soft noise and pulled Daniel closer, lips

brushing his forehead. "If it's the money, that's fixable."

"You can find a way around that?" Daniel asked, and let

himself lean. "And like you said, he—no—they depend on me.
I can't just leave clients high and dry."

Clark's fingertips stroked down Daniel's spine and back up

again. "How about this. I buy say, three months of your
time—get you through summer vacation at least. Given what

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I know about your schedule and what you could probably pull
from Break, four sessions a week sounds fair to me.

"And as for the rest, I think I can find someone enough

like you and how you play to fill in for your regulars. It'll take
some calling and explaining on your behalf, but..." The
patterns Clark traced on Daniel's back made him shiver. "I
can make the arrangements tomorrow morning. Get you
contact information or set it up myself with a few details from
you."

Daniel made a sound of protest. "That's... Clark, what...

You'd help me that much? That might take care of..." He
paused. "What would I have to do for you at that kind of
price?"

Clark laughed and slung a leg over Daniel's hips, hand

kneading Daniel's neck. "Oh, I'm sure I could come up with
something."

"You'd better tell me exactly what before I agree to this,

Clark," Daniel said, suddenly finding his focus. Now Clark was
a potential client, someone paying Daniel to do everything in
his power to make fantasy into reality, and given how much
Clark was offering, Daniel swallowed. Subbing felt impossible
for him, but if that was what Clark wanted, Daniel would try.

"Hey," Clark said, concerned. He pulled back, brushing a

thumb over Daniel's cheek. "I would never ask something you
didn't want to do, too." His eyes searched Daniel's in the gray
dark. "I know... 'client,' but..." Clark smiled. "I don't ever
want to be just a client to you, Daniel. Just like I'd never ask
you to be only my dom."

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"I'm sorry. I should trust you, but..." Daniel looked

steadily back. "That's a lot of money, Clark. I'd need to feel
like I earned it, you know? And I was getting used to the idea
of you not being a client, and now you are. Not just... never
just, but I have standards I have to meet."

Clark's mouth worked silently, and he leaned forward to

brush his lips over Daniel's. "I get it—really. But I suppose I
sort of saw this working like... well... more of what happened
yesterday. Talk about it and go with it." He paused, lips
pressing together, and then the easy smile that Daniel
equated with masks and hidden emotions was back. "We can
work on the details and mark off the sessions however you
need to make it work for both of us."

Daniel sighed. "I want this. I can see you really want me

to take it, too. It's an easy way to be with you and still fulfill
my obligations. I'll work with you on who to contact, and I'd
like to see some of the profiles you put together. But I really
do need you to tell me what kind of scene you want me to
design for you. Is there something you always wanted to do?
A fantasy you never thought could be fulfilled?"

Clark stiffened before he suddenly moved backward on the

bed. He looked away and rubbed deeper into the skin and
muscle of Daniel's back. "Oh, sure. Like I said, we'll think of
something."

Lifting Clark's chin, Daniel forced Clark to meet his eyes.

"What did you just think of?"

Anger flickered in Clark's gaze, and he tensed before

gradually relaxing in Daniel's grip. "You know, sometimes I

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hate that you're good at what you do," Clark said, without
real accusation in his voice.

Daniel gave a wry grin and nodded. "Yeah, I think I know,

because sometimes I hate how good you are, too. You've hit
me in every soft spot I have, and it aches, I'll tell you."

"Fair enough," Clark said, and sighed. "Brian and I were

supposed to meet up again. I think I told you that, and we
talked a bit about what we wanted to do. So... that's..." Clark
shrugged. "That's what I thought of first."

"What were the elements involved? Particular equipment

or dynamics?" Daniel asked, trying to give Clark the room he
needed when talking about his desires.

Bracing, Clark nodded, gripping Daniel's arm. His eyes

studied Daniel's collarbone as he spoke. "It was a step up
from what we managed the first time. The belts worked—you
know I like being bound—and Brian..." Clark tilted his head.
"He wanted to bind me again, but differently. I never did
quite understand the logistics, but he wanted me on my back
with..." Clark licked his lips. "Everything available to him."
Clark spoke quickly. "Because he got that I liked teasing,
and... well...

"So he talked about finding a brace to bend me over

backward and then securing hands and legs from there.
Sounded complicated to me, but he liked the idea, and I
wasn't opposed. We discussed gags and blindfolds, too.
Argued over it." Clark's mouth twisted into a smirk. "And
Brian wanted..." Clark paused. "To plug me and incorporate
some type of impact play, but we were a little limited on

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base. He said he'd 'work on it,' and I told him he was crazy.
Again."

Clark shut his mouth with an audible clack of teeth and

finally glanced up at Daniel. "But... looked forward to it."

Daniel was overwhelmed with awe at how swiftly Clark had

gone from being completely unable to acknowledge his need
for submission to being able to tell Daniel exactly what he
wanted.

Hugging Clark soundly, Daniel made himself meet Clark's

gaze. "Yeah, I can see why. Both why you called him crazy
and why you looked forward to it. Were you arguing for or
against a gag and blindfold? It would certainly make for..."
Daniel shuddered, a small rock of his shoulders, and whether
it was in fear of such a setup for himself or desire to have
Clark in such a manner, he wasn't quite sure. "For a situation
where you were completely helpless."

A soft noise comprised of groan and sigh filled the air. With

a sharp inhale, Clark's hand flexed on Daniel's skin, eyes
flickering to his mouth. "For..." Clark murmured.

"Oh." Daniel's hands caressed Clark's back, and he tried to

find the track of the conversation again. He considered his
options and his pride, and what little those had to do with
how much he cared for this man within his arms. Emotions
thickened his throat, and Daniel could only whisper, "I'd do
that for you for free, love. Give it to you as a gift, and, I
guess, maybe that's what you're trying to do for me, too, with
the money. I'll accept what I need from you as a gift, Clark, if
you'll take what you need in exchange?"

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"If you'll take my help, then I'll take yours," Clark said,

breathless. "I like you being with me. And not with anyone
else. I'm not a jealous person, usually, but..." Clark shivered.
"You fly in the face of most of my rules and seem to be the
exception to all of them. And God... having you... do that...
to..."

Without finishing the sentence, Clark let out a breath that

vibrated in the air between them. Clark's hand slid from
Daniel's arm to his hip.

The thought of Clark needing Daniel, wanting him so much

as to be jealous, made him feel unaccountably tender. Daniel
closed the gap between them, suddenly needing to taste
Clark's mouth, to breathe his breath. "I accept," Daniel
whispered, the minute contact with Clark's lips melting away
all his reserve. "It's a promise, Sergeant."

Clark swallowed, wide eyes searching Daniel's face before

Clark deliberately spoke. "Likewise, Professor," he whispered.

"Good."
Clark smiled against Daniel's skin. "It's getting easier. All

of it," he said, ache and wonder in his voice. "Even in just two
days."

"It's almost like everything we do just works." Daniel

finished. "That's new for me, and I really like it."

Clark's shoulders relaxed, and he maneuvered himself to

wrap around Daniel. "Yeah," he said with a smile. "Exactly.
Now sleep. And tomorrow..." Clark yawned. "I'll bring you
lunch."

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Daniel chuckled and snuggled in, realizing that he could

finally stop thinking. "Mm... lunch. That'll be good. G'night,
Clark."

"Night, Professor," Clark mumbled, already half asleep.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Part II

April 30
9:22 a.m.

* * * *

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237

Chapter 11

The teacher's lounge smelled like a slaughterhouse, and

Daniel gagged again, kneeling in the corner of what had once
been a safe haven. Retching sounds ended in a wet cough
that died away into nothing, and Daniel breathed through his
mouth. More gunshots rang out in the hallway, and the
subsequent screaming, stampede of panicked feet, and
slamming of doors blocked all other sounds.

With shaking hands, Daniel pulled his cell phone from his

pocket. Staring at it, he sighed at the memory of Clark this
morning, so peacefully sprawled all over Daniel's bed in his
little professor's bungalow on the edge of campus. The man
had looked so comfortable and relaxed that Daniel hadn't
been able to resist whispering, "See you at lunch?"

The answering grunt, equal parts irritated and affirmative,

amused Daniel so much that he'd leaned forward and brushed
the stubble-rough cheek with a light kiss before closing all the
shutters in the house, drawing all the curtains, and hoping
that, for once, Clark would sleep late.

Daniel knew how hard-won Clark's peace was, and while

he ached about disturbing that, Daniel also knew that Clark
deserved to know what was happening. Missing the speed dial
button twice, Daniel finally punched it correctly and hit
"Send."

"Hey," Clark answered. "And you call me the mind reader.

Was just thinking of you."

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Daniel closed his eyes. The cheerfulness of Clark's voice

was such a contrast to the scene before him and what he
heard out in the hallway, it was like getting in touch with
heaven in the midst of hell. Daniel fought down the emotions
that threatened to strangle him, and he cleared his throat so
he could speak. "Uhm... hey. You have no idea how happy I
am to hear you're thinking of me. There's... uhm... how
would you take down someone armed with... it sounds like a
semi-automatic and a shotgun?"

The long pause at the question didn't make Daniel feel any

better.

"You don't take them down," Clark said, voice level. "You

find a thick wall and hide or get the hell out of range. Tell me
this is theoretical, Daniel."

"Thick wall, hm?" Daniel sighed a shivering sigh at Clark's

carefully controlled tone. "I'm... I'm sorry, but none of them
seem thick enough right now, and my kids..." His voice broke,
and he whispered, "He's killing my kids, Clark, and I can't do
a freaking thing."

"Talk fast. Are you hurt?" Clark asked, and Daniel heard

the traces of Clark's military training in the question.

Daniel answered more crisply, "No. I'm not. Thompson's

dead, though, and I... I've called 911. Mary's sending cars,
EMTs, and ambulances. Security must be down, and he's
going through the goddamned undergraduate hallway."

"Where are you precisely?"
"In the teacher's lounge," Daniel said. "I was in the

bathroom, heard the shots across the hallway, and stayed
there until I heard screaming... ah, shit..." More blasts and

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glass shattering made him cringe. Someone else in the room
moaned. Daniel's voice started shaky and then firmed as he
continued, "Then came here to check, figuring he wouldn't
come back."

"Good thinking. That's very good, Daniel," Clark said

soothingly. "I'm less than ten minutes away and coming
now."

Daniel wanted to protest, to ask Clark what the hell he was

thinking, and then remembered the Beretta. He'd been
looking for Clark's cell phone charger in the glove
compartment of Clark's Jag. Daniel had insisted that the gun
be brought into the security of the house. Raised by
policemen, Daniel knew the frequency of car break-ins, and
he was far more comfortable having the firearm under their
control.

So Clark was armed. It made Daniel breathe a little more

easily, think a little more clearly, as Clark added, "Response
time to the university, with as many calls as I'm sure dispatch
is getting, will be a matter of minutes. Five at most. I want
you to find something heavy—desk, anything—and get your
head down. On your knees, curl in, back to the door."

"I... Clark. I love you." Daniel had to say that first. "But I

can't just sit here. I know what I promised you, but that's five
minutes. He's headed toward the east wing, there are classes
and meetings going on upstairs—oh shit—they can't get
through the windows, and I have to check on Mr. Wilson."
Daniel was shaking hard enough that he had to stop talking
for fear that Clark would hear.

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"I love you, too," Clark said quickly. "But baby, listen to

me. I know it's hard. I know you want to help. But you're
unarmed and out of the line of fire. You're the son of two
policemen; you know how this works. Let the good guys fight
the bad guy. Stay safe for me, do what you can if you find the
injured, and... just..." Clark's voice broke, and even over the
cell phone connection, Daniel could hear Clark panting before
he heard the distinctive sound of his own front door
slamming. "Just get through this unhurt for me. You can do
that. I know it."

"I'll..." Daniel closed his eyes at another rip of gunfire. "Oh

God, Clark. Right." He took a deep breath. "Yes. I'll try and
help the injured, let the pros do their work when they get
here, and stay out of the line of fire while I can."

"Good man," Clark said. "I'm coming. And so is everyone

else. Just hang on. Love you and see you soon."

"Love you," Daniel replied. "I'll see you."
When the line went dead, Daniel felt like throwing his

phone. Instead, he tucked it carefully back into his pocket.

Five minutes.
Daniel knew how much carnage could happen in five

minutes. After his parents died, he'd studied enough criminal
cases to know that an assassination took less than two
seconds. The time it took for a bullet to end a life was far too
small compared to the time it'd take for the police or Clark to
get here.

He glanced at the wide-eyed carcass of Professor Jerry

Thompson. The pride of the university's new quantum
computing research efforts now lay dead with half his back

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blown out behind him. A shotgun at close range made quite a
mess. Daniel gagged again, found the sink in the lounge, and
rinsed his mouth. A hissing suddenly came from under one of
the coffee tables, and he frowned, bending to find a terrified
Professor Franks fluttering her hands at him.

"He's not going to be back," Daniel said, but she only

flattened further, even more terrified than before. She must
have been in the room when it happened, but she looked
unhurt.

Unable to do a thing for either of the people in this room,

Daniel suddenly felt a very familiar distancing. Some coldly
logical portion of his mind took a step back, away from all his
emotions, his shaking knees, the scent of death all about him.
Just as in the middle of a heavy scene, he could step away
from his adrenaline, the pain of his client, the physical mess,
and concentrate only on what he saw rather than what he
felt. The body on the floor became so much dead meat.
Thompson was gone, and he, Daniel, had something he
needed to do.

Five minutes, and Daniel had already wasted thirty

seconds of it putting himself back together.

Daniel walked to the door, accompanied by a positive

teakettle of hissing from under the table, but he listened to
the sounds beyond the room. Nothing to the left. Whimpers,
moans, and running footsteps to the right, but the voices
were loud. Even if the shooter was still to the right, there
would be other bodies in the way. Daniel would still have the
cover Clark asked him to find.

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Opening the door, Daniel took a quick look, ducked back

into the room, and thought about what he'd seen. Daniel
walked out, and a wail followed him into the hallway. He
slipped into the stream of undergraduate students jostling for
the front door. As more gunshots rang out, Daniel slid into
the security guard's room.

The scent hit him, and he staggered, biting hard on his lip.

The pain got Daniel centered, and he took one step into the
room, looking for Bernard Wilson. It seemed an eternity ago
that he'd seen Bernard at the wedding. Blood lay everywhere.
Pooling and running from under the security desk all over the
tile, and the blood was still...

Daniel sprinted around the desk, careful not to slip, pulling

his belt from his waist. Bernard's bulk lay sprawled on the
floor. Blood spurted from a wound in his upper arm. Daniel
fell to his knees, wrapped his belt above the wound, fed the
end through the buckle, and pulled tight. Bernard screamed
and awoke, thrashing.

Daniel held on, and only when the spurting stopped did he

try to figure out how to buckle the belt on so that it would
stay tight. He ended up stabbing the tongue through the
leather. The bullet had gone through Bernard's upper arm and
not his thigh, or he would have bled out by now. Daniel put a
bloody set of fingers to the thick throat to find that Bernard's
pulse fluttered like a hummingbird's, so fast it was dizzying,
but steady.

That was when he saw the gun belt around Bernard's

waist. The Smith and Wesson M&P .357 automatic sat there,
heavy and solid. Daniel sighed, mentally apologized to Clark,

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unbuckled the gun belt from Bernard's waist, and then looked
up into Bernard's brown eyes.

"I'm afraid I have to take this, Bernard."
"Didn't see nuthin'," the wounded man whispered. "You

get him, Danny. Right?"

"Right."
Daniel strapped on the belt. The familiar weight brought

back memories of the gun range and the academy test he'd
taken with his childhood friends. When he'd passed, Daniel
had realized he just couldn't do the job that had killed his
parents. Ironically, this time it felt right, and he knew what to
do.

Unsnapping the strap that held the gun in place, Daniel

pulled out the pistol, checked the thumb safety, and flicked it
off. He touched the magazine release behind the trigger and
let it fall into his hand. It was full, and he counted noses.
Fifteen rounds. Daniel slid the magazine back into the gun
with a solid thunk, and he chambered a round before he put
the gun back into its holster.

A whisper as thin as thread, "Frank 'n Maria'd be prouda

you."

Daniel gave Bernard a wry grin and nodded. "Thanks. See

you at the next wedding."

Bernard weakly chuckled. "Yeah."
Pulling his shirt out from his pants, Daniel made sure it hid

the rig underneath. A panicked crowd would react badly to
the sight of another gun. When Daniel went out the door, the
stream of people pushed him toward the exit. He went
against the tide and nearly knocked a girl off her feet.

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Glancing at her, Daniel realized it was Ashley, his RA.

"Ash," he said.

Ashley stared at him wide-eyed and then shrieked. "Dr.

Germain! You... are you hurt?"

Daniel looked down at himself and realized that he had

blood all over him from where he'd knelt to get the tourniquet
onto Bernard. "No, no, that's not mine."

Someone pushed Ashley to get by her, and Daniel pulled

her to the side of his own body so that she wouldn't get
pummeled. "You're safe," he breathed. "Where are the
others?"

Tears spilled from Ashley's eyes. "De... Derek's... he's

upstairs in the... the..."

"The goddamned department picnic meeting," Daniel said

grimly. "Who else?"

"Anne got most of our sections out the windows. The glass

cut... I saw... saw... Laurie's... Laurie was ahead of me... out
the classroom with... with..." Ashley sobbed. "She got her
whole section out the emergency door before... before he...
he shot her in the back, Professor Germain. She's..."

Daniel shook her. "And Paul?"
"Out... he came out this way..."
"So you're the last of my folks. Good job, Ashley. I need

you to do me another favor."

She nodded, gulping back sobs.
"Good girl. You can do it. I need you tell the ambulance

guys that the security guard is right here, and he's got a
tourniquet on a gunshot wound. They need to get to him so
he won't lose the arm. You got it?"

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Ashley nodded, suddenly clinging to him, and Daniel

wrapped his arms around her. "Go on."

"You're not coming out, too?" she asked, incredulous.
"I have to check on Laurie."
"And... and Derek?"
Daniel met Ashley's wide eyes. "Yes. I'll make sure he's all

right, too."

She shuddered and then took another deep breath. "All...

all right..."

"Go," he said. Daniel put her in the stream of people and

watched her walk into the sunlight.

He's killing my kids.
Daniel took a breath and walked along the wall, against

the chaotic flood of people. Anyone who looked up and saw
his blood-drenched form stepped out of his way. Glancing into
classrooms, Daniel saw the far windows shattered and the
reassuring sight of blue lights spinning beyond. Limp bodies
were being lifted out through the first-floor windows by
others. Those people on the second floor wouldn't be as
lucky.

Knowing the killer had already gotten to the emergency

exit, Daniel ran for the end of the hallway. Before he went
around the corner, he stopped and checked around it with a
quick glance. He saw Laurie lying on her front, black hair
covering her face, a small hole just below her right shoulder,
and blood on the floor all around her. He ran to her and
touched her shoulder. She twitched, and Daniel started
breathing again.

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Turning her, Daniel saw the pink and white of bone

through her right shoulder. The enormity of the exit wound
made him gulp and swallow until he had his stomach under
control. When several other students crept out of classrooms
at the end of the hall, Daniel barked, "You and you, come
here."

The two male students came. Laurie's injuries made the

smaller one throw up, but when he stayed anyway, Daniel
was impressed. He searched his brain for names. Jeffrey from
Glow. Clark's boy at the bar. The other was Aquila, a beautiful
young Argentinean, brilliant at system modeling.

"She's going on your back, Aquila," Daniel said to the taller

boy, who nodded at him. "Jeffrey, help me get her up."

Daniel took Laurie's injured side; it wasn't as if more blood

was going to make any difference. If they could get Laurie to
the EMTs, she'd have a chance. The police wouldn't risk
personnel who couldn't defend themselves until they had the
killer locked down.

Together, Daniel and the students lifted Laurie, one arm

under her shoulders, the other under her legs. Daniel bit his
lower lip until it bled at the wrongness he felt when her
shoulder moved, and she moaned, unconscious. He hated
hurting her, but they had to support her, had to get her up.
Her head flopped forward onto Aquila's back, and Daniel
wrapped her legs around the kid. Daniel pulled her arms over
Aquila's shoulders.

"Jeffrey, she's going to need help to stay on. Just..."
"I got her, Prof. I can do this." The fierce, if frightened

words from the lithe boy made Daniel nod.

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"Thanks. Go on; get her out of here," Daniel said. They

walked away and disappeared into the crowd of people
headed out the main door.

Daniel nearly broke down right there, but the sound of a

gunshot above his head brought him back with a vengeance.
He made for the stairs, taking them two at a time. At the very
top, he stopped, slowed, and cracked open the door.

Someone screamed, a siren of a wail that just kept going

and going. A slap cracked, and a male voice said, "Shut up
and get down."

Clark. Daniel froze. That was Clark's voice. What was he

doing here already? Daniel checked his watch and realized it'd
taken him a good seven minutes to get here. Clark had
passed him.

Daniel pressed his forehead against the cool concrete wall.

Daniel's office was up here, along this corridor at the end of
the building. Clark must have come up here to check for him
after not finding him in the lounge.

Shit, shit, shit.
"Even if you little mice scamper in there, I'll kill you

anyway," said a voice that sent shivers down Daniel's spine
and closed his vision down to a tunnel. He was here, and
Clark's low swearing made Daniel frantic. The killer was
headed away from Daniel toward the T-intersection with the
main hallway. Not looking this way.

Daniel took two slow, deep breaths, forcing his tunnel

vision wider. Then he pushed the door open and walked into
the hallway. He saw the killer reach the T, smoothly pivot,
raise a gun in one hand, and fire.

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The familiar grunt at the shot made Daniel go completely

cold: ice cold, dead cold, as cold as he'd been when standing
at his parents' grave.

Daniel brought the block of metal up in both his hands,

centered his stance, lined up the sights, and fired one, two, at
the killer's chest. Daniel was so focused on the target that he
saw blood fly. The killer went down.

Daniel fell down, too, on his knees. He wished suddenly,

wildly, that he'd been able to give himself to Clark, been able
to surrender to Clark's love as thoroughly and completely. But
now Clark was dead, as dead as the bastard that Daniel had
been too late to kill.

Too late...
"Drop your weapon!" a male voice barked, a growling,

snarling command that inspired only the need to obey. It
broke the deafening silence that followed the thud-crunch of
Daniel's knees on the cold hallway floor.

Daniel got himself together enough to say clearly, "I'm

putting the safety on." He pressed the switch and tossed the
automatic before him, out of his reach. Following standard
police procedure, Daniel automatically put his hands behind
his head. The physically submissive posture made Daniel
close his eyes, and the knowledge that everyone, including
himself, was safe collided with his knowledge that Clark was
dead. Daniel's hard-held control finally shattered.

Before Daniel could even think of holding it back, he

shocked himself by making a keening wail powered by all the
rage, terror, and grief he'd kept in check. The sound shook

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Daniel's body until he ran out of air, and he choked on a sob
when a hard body tackled him.

Strong arms wrapped around Daniel's torso and hugged

him with a fierceness that screamed of protection and
possessiveness. Hands gripped and pulled hard on Daniel's
clothing and physically moved him to the side of the hallway.
It happened in less than two seconds, time enough for a slow
blink or a rain shower of bullets. A cheek collided with
Daniel's, and a voice that was low and rough, yet capable of
holding silk aloft in the air with its tenderness, spoke in
Daniel's ear.

"It's okay," Clark said in a rush. "I'm here. It's over.

Everything's going to be all right, baby. I've got you."

Shocked into silence, Daniel opened his eyes and shook so

hard that he could do nothing but wrap his arms around
Clark. Daniel gasped and then felt the tears spill down his
face.

"Clark," Daniel whispered. "You... you're alive?"

* * * *

Clark made soothing sounds and put himself between

Daniel's line of sight and the corpse behind them; Daniel
didn't need to see the evidence of his bloody heroism. With a
quick turn of his upper body, Clark slid his weapon toward
Daniel's. Both hands now free, Clark tightened his arms
around his lover and shifted so that he held Daniel off the
floor and against him, one hand cradling Daniel's head.

Rocking, Clark stroked Daniel's hair and kissed his

forehead with a soft press of lips that was at odds with the

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strength of the hold around Daniel's body. "I'm alive. And so
are you. You got the bad guy, everything's over, and we're
safe."

Turning into Clark's body, Daniel shuddered, more tears

spilling. "You are... I... I kept my promise, I just... I just
thought I'd lost you to do it. Oh, God, Clark." Daniel reached
up with a bloody hand to pull Clark's head down to his.

"I'm here," Clark said, kissing Daniel again. "I love you,

we're fine, it's over." Tears began to stream down his face.

He's okay.
Daniel had killed the bastard. Shot him dead.
Clark kissed Daniel with a harsh press of lips and a tongue

that sank deeply into Daniel's mouth. He braced Daniel's head
and made anxious noises as his brow furrowed and tears
continued to fall from his eyes.

Daniel made a low sound of want, and Clark felt Daniel

yield. Clark lost himself in the reality of the kiss between
them, letting it reaffirm, soothe, ease them both. Clark hadn't
been too late, and Clark let the evidence overwhelm him:
Daniel's tongue against his, body pressed flush with his,
breath on his face.

"You heroic idiot," Clark muttered, teeth catching Daniel's

lower lip and biting, perhaps too hard, before he kissed the
hurt away. "Can't believe you..." He kissed Daniel's upper lip
and nose and cheek while his hands started to wander and
grip Daniel's clothing and skin and arms. "If you got hurt, I'd
kick your ass, and..." Clark kissed tears away.

"Don't you ever do this again," Clark said harshly, shaking

the man before locking his mouth over Daniel's again.

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Daniel chuckled into the kiss. "Yes, Clark. I sincerely hope

I'll never have to do this again."

"You're not hurt," Clark said more than asked, feeling over

Daniel's body. He'd seen the way Daniel had moved in the
hallway when Daniel went down, and concluded that the
blood was probably someone else's. But still he checked,
touch skimming everywhere.

Shaking his head, Daniel watched Clark's hands with

fascination. "No," Daniel answered. "My... uhm... ass is in one
piece. Speaking of which... after what I just put us through."
He blushed and lowered his voice. "I... this is going to sound
so weird, but... I wished... I wished I'd given you... well,
would you want to take me tonight? Please?"

Clark's head snapped left, and his gaze fixed on Daniel's

reddening cheeks. He blinked, bemused, and then cupped
Daniel's face with one hand, lips nearly touching. "Yeah," he
whispered, roughly. "After this... anything for you." He
carefully kissed Daniel again.

"Good," Daniel whispered against Clark's lips. "Good."
Clark moved Daniel in his arms, thinking he was simply not

going to let go. Ever again. He would hold this man—or some
part of Daniel—from now on and make sure the professor
never did anything that might result in bodily harm. At that
moment, Clark didn't care if he had to quit his jobs and spend
his days sitting in Daniel's office reading book after book
while Daniel graded those damned papers. He would be there,
and never again would he feel the helpless ache that made
him want to vanish off the face of the earth at the thought of

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Daniel getting hurt. Even a paper cut was too damned much.
Maybe he could get Daniel to wear gloves.

Behind the men, footsteps and calls of "Clear!" echoed in

the hallway. Clark didn't stop his tender kisses, and his arms
tightened around Daniel as his senses told him people were
filling in behind them. For a second, there was a near-tangible
sense of confusion. He heard someone bark an order over a
radio to get paramedics to the second floor. Footsteps
paused, and nobody said a word. The radio crackled a ten-
four, and then someone uttered a low laugh.

"Well, Bailey," said a man's gruff voice. "Something tells

me your hopes of getting Danny Boy to date your daughter
might be a little far-fetched."

Clark blinked but continued to kiss Daniel, and he felt the

quietest of chuckles from the man in his arms.

"Ya know," said another voice. "I was noticing that,

myself." The second man cleared his throat. "Excuse me,
gentlemen, but would you kindly cease and desist with the...
er... comfort and tell me what the hell happened?"

* * * *

Ignoring the sounds until he finished with the kiss, Daniel

sighed and broke it. He almost wiped his face with his hands,
but then remembered what was all over them, so he used
Clark's shirt. Daniel peeked out from under the protective
shelter of Clark's arms to meet the amused eyes of Adams,
Bailey, and Sorenson.

Connor Adams had been his father's partner and now

treated Daniel like a son. So Daniel answered with respect.

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"Yes, sir. Certainly, sir. Shooter's over there. I'm guilty. The
handgun's there, stole it from Bernard downstairs. You guys
get him out okay? Had to tie off a bleeder." Daniel's eyes
closed on that memory, but he opened them again and
continued calmly. "I saw wounded coming out of the
classrooms, the one security guard down, one girl downstairs.
I followed the sounds up here, and he was firing when I got in
range. Anything else you boys need to know? I'll come with
you, easy like, to the station and confess."

Bailey—a large man with a fringe of gray hair surrounding

the pink dome of his head—looked at Daniel with an
assessing gaze. Then he grunted and looked at Clark. "And
who the devil are you?" he asked.

"That's Sergeant Maxwell Clark, sir," said Adams. "Lucian's

man."

Bailey grunted again. It was his standard affirmative noise.

"And the chief's, then, too." Bailey sighed and smacked his
lips, looking over the scene as paramedics and other people
crowded into the hallway. Markers went up, orders relayed,
and radios buzzed with chatter reporting the chaos that was
still outside.

"Clean kill," someone said. Clark hugged Daniel to his side,

eyeing everyone as if daring them to do something he didn't
like.

Bailey turned back to the men on the hallway floor. "Son,

you done your parents proud today. Way I figure? You killed
this sonofabitch before he got to do more damage." He
pursed his lips and looked at Clark. "You," Bailey ordered.

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"Get Danny downstairs." He whirled. "Sorenson? Go with
them and get 'em through the mess down there."

"Yes, sir," said Sorenson, who immediately walked over to

Clark and Daniel.

"Thanks, sir," Daniel said shakily. He tried to get up, and

his legs utterly failed him. He grinned uncertainly up at
Sorenson and then over at Clark, and he put an arm over
Clark's shoulders.

Clark took Daniel's weight and stood up with him. "Easy

there," Clark said quietly.

Sorenson looked bemusedly at Clark but said nothing,

heading toward the stairwell at the end of the hallway.
Relieved beyond measure that no one seemed to have an
issue with Clark's presence, Daniel wobbled and clung to
Clark's strength. "Guess I'm a little... tapped out," Daniel
said, and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the
other. He wasn't looking forward to the stairs, but thought
about how he'd held Clark on the mountain. "Glad you're
here," he added softly.

"I'm here and not going anywhere," Clark said firmly. "Just

take it slow."

When they reached the stairwell, Clark paused before he

said, "Sorenson," in his military voice. The man jerked and
blinked blue eyes at Clark. "Take his other side."

"Yes, sir," Sorenson said deferentially, and slid under

Daniel's other arm, steadying him. Once Sorenson was
sturdy, Clark nodded and kissed Daniel's temple.

"Take your time," Clark said, the command in his tone

gentler.

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Daniel took a deep breath, feeling steadier with both men

under his arms. Daniel completely missed the second step
from the bottom, but his feet never touched the ground.

"There you go," Clark said softly. "I've got him," he said to

Sorenson. The officer nodded and carefully relinquished
Daniel to Clark, who wrapped both arms around Daniel in a
hug.

"We'll get him into a car at the perimeter," Sorenson said.
"He needs to get off his feet," Clark said firmly. "As soon

as possible, and I'll need crackers or water or something for
him immediately."

Sorenson blinked at Clark again. "Uh, sure. I'll see what I

can do?"

Clark nodded at the officer and then at the door to the

outside. Dropping his voice, he said to Daniel, "Just lean on
me and let me help you. Don't worry about the noise or about
trying to answer anybody."

Daniel saw a press van outside. Hoping to calm Clark,

Daniel kissed Clark's cheek. His body still shivered out of his
control. "All right. It's easier concentrating on just you right
now. I'm still so glad you're alive. It's a zoo out there. I'll just
let you handle whatever comes up."

"Good thing," Clark said wryly, and he kissed Daniel's

forehead. "Wasn't going to give you much of a choice." He
laughed, and Sorenson got the door open for them.

Immediately sirens, screams, and shouting filled the air.

Daniel heard someone on a bullhorn shouting at everyone to
get back. He heard the whirl of a helicopter—probably a news
team or maybe police, Daniel wasn't sure and didn't bother

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looking up to check. Instead, he concentrated on Clark
holding him and walked toward the nearest cruiser.

* * * *

Clark managed to get Daniel halfway to the police car

before a looming presence flanked them on the right.

"Clark," said Isaac Whitaker, the chief of police. He stood

two inches taller than Clark, had a shiny, shaved head, scars
on one cheek from a fight with a petty thief who'd been too
good with a switchblade, and carried himself like a moving
mountain that would not be deterred by anything from
weather to wailing women.

"Whitaker," Clark replied, still moving and keeping his

focus on Daniel.

"Is this the man?" the chief asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Does he need medical attention?"
"No, sir."
"He terminated the madman?"
"Yes, sir." Clark smiled at Whitaker's way of speaking. He

made some of the more deadly military men Clark knew look
positively warm and cuddly.

"I'll escort you to a car, clear a path, and have Sorenson

get you to the station. I don't want the leeches on our hero
until he's out of shock."

"Agreed, sir," Clark said, catching Daniel as he stumbled.

"I need —"

"We'll bring you provisions once you're safe in the car."
"Thank you, sir. And I'm not going to —"

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"Leave him?" Whitaker finished, cutting Clark off as his

long strides took him two paces ahead to grab the back door
handle on the unmarked cruiser. "I suspected you wouldn't.
And shouldn't." Whitaker's cold, clear eyes met Clark's, and
each man nodded in silent agreement and mutual
understanding. Then Whitaker looked at Daniel.

"You have my respect, Professor Germain. And gratitude."
Daniel looked up wide-eyed at the huge man and ducked

his head in acknowledgement. "Thank you. It was... I had to,
but you're very welcome anyway."

"I will see to it that this goes as easy on you as possible."

Whitaker tried to smile, and Clark nearly fell over in shock.

"You get emotional on me, Isaac, and I don't think I'll be

able to handle it," Clark teased, easing Daniel into the car.

The chief gave Clark a look that could reap entire fields of

wheat. "Get him in the car, Clark." Whitaker spat the name,
but it sounded mostly good-natured.

"Yes, sir." Clark bodily moved Daniel and braced his arm

and torso so he could lean as much as necessary to get into
the back seat. Daniel started to shake all over. Clark slid in
next to Daniel, holding him again, and Whitaker shut them
inside the car, which blissfully dampened the clamor.

"God, I hate feeling this weak." Daniel sighed. "Did I just

hear you tease the chief? And here I thought you just did that
kind of stuff with me."

Clark rearranged the professor on his chest and laughed

softly. "I know Isaac fairly well. He's a semi-regular at
Break."

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Daniel blinked slowly at Clark. "Break. The chief?" He

groaned and leaned against Clark. "You've just... what did I
get myself into, again?"

"True love and hero worship," Clark said, hands roaming in

a soothing dance over Daniel's hair, back, and arms.

Daniel rested against Clark. "Mm... okay. And here I was

thinking it was playing games with trolls and minor gods like
Lucian..." He sighed and nuzzled Clark's shoulder. "That does
feel good."

Clark sucked in a breath that hissed through his teeth, and

he trembled. "Scared the shit out of me," he said quietly. "So
help me, I'm not letting you go for a single —"

There was a polite knock on the cruiser window, and Clark

had Daniel wrapped against him with arms in a vise-like hold
before he even knew what he did. The door opened, and
Sorenson knelt down next to the backseat. Clark jerked his
head over one shoulder.

"Sorry," Sorenson said apologetically. "I just brought you

this." In his hands, he held an assortment of food and a pack
of cleaning wipes. Under his arm, he had both a bottle of
water and a bottle of Gatorade.

Daniel grunted and gently stroked Clark's arm as he said

to Sorenson, "That looks surprisingly tasty right now." Clark
relinquished most of his hold, keeping one hand on Daniel's
side. Daniel held out his hands. "Thanks, this should help a
lot."

"No problem," Sorenson said, looking at Clark with

respect. "It'll probably be a minute or two before we head

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out, so don't go anywhere." Without waiting for a response,
he stood and shut the door.

Turning to Daniel, Clark offered a hesitant smile. "Sorry,"

he said. "Not quite as stable as I thought."

"No reason to be sorry," Daniel answered. "Right now, you

make me feel safe, and I don't mind."

Clark kissed Daniel's cheek. He cracked open the bottle of

Gatorade and paused, looking at Daniel's blood-covered
hands. "Get yourself cleaned up a little, first."

"Yeah. I need it." Breaking open the wet wipes, Daniel got

the blood off his hands. He only managed to get halfway up
his forearms before the wipes grew gory. "I'm glad the jail
has a shower. I just have to hope they'll let me use it before
the paperwork." Daniel huffed a laugh. "Too bad it's very
unlikely they'd let us shower together."

Protectiveness flicker-flared in Clark. "They might not let

us shower together, but I'll be there with you, and it'll take
twenty of them to try and stop me," Clark grumbled. He
handed over the Gatorade. "Not letting you get out of my
sight. Period." He looked at Daniel with a level gaze.

"Let's try to keep the fighting twenty at once to a

minimum, hm? We can make it work more smoothly than
that," Daniel said, with more of his usual calm. He swallowed
Gatorade.

"I'm hoping that since I've already explained myself to the

chief, it won't be necessary to take on the entire force. Maybe
just half." Now Clark smiled, one hand smoothing over
Daniel's arm.

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Shadows warned Clark that someone was approaching the

car, and he didn't jerk this time when both front doors
opened and Sorenson and the other officer from the second
floor climbed into the front seat.

"You good back there, Danny Boy?" the elder officer asked

from behind the wheel, eyes up in the rear view mirror.

Daniel grinned. "Yeah. Thanks, Adams. I'm all set with

snacks and everything."

Adams chuckled. "We'll find you a juice box when we get

to the station, kiddo."

Clark laughed, relaxing as he finally began to understand

how deeply the connection ran between his lover and the
police force. He thanked God for small kindnesses and
promised the man upstairs that he'd get directions to a
church after the dust settled and Daniel was okay.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter 12

The ride to the station was quick, and Clark watched

Daniel eat and drink along the way. He kept one hand on
some part of Daniel the entire time, unable to break the
contact. Adams, Sorenson, and Daniel chatted when Daniel
wasn't leaning against Clark with his eyes closed, and Clark
focused on anticipating what came next.

At the station, he helped Daniel out of the car and was

delighted when Daniel allowed it. He couldn't help the kisses
to Daniel's temple or the rub of his hand on Daniel's back,
and even though it raised some eyebrows, no one said a
harsh word. The fact that Clark glared at anyone who even
dared part their lips while they walked through the maze of
desks and counters and holding rooms might have accounted
for some of their discretion.

Adams had no problem letting Daniel wash up in the men's

room, and after taking one look at Clark and rolling his eyes,
Adams let Clark in with Daniel. The professor kept an
affectionate smirk while Clark guarded the door like a
vindictive gargoyle. Clark didn't like letting go of Daniel while
he stripped off his shirt, tossed it into the garbage, and
washed his arms, face, and neck, but Clark begrudgingly
allowed it after checking every stall and crevice.

When Daniel was cleaner and looking more himself, they

left the men's room, and Sorenson appeared with a t-shirt too
big for Daniel. Clark looked at Sorenson with new measures
of gratitude and respect while Daniel put on the clean shirt.

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Hands back on Daniel, Clark followed Sorenson into a

holding room: a big table, a few chairs, and even a window.
There were refreshments—coffee and water—and once again,
Clark gave looks that dared anyone to ask him to leave. No
one did, and Clark gradually relaxed in his chair next to
Daniel's. The professor stole Clark's hand to hold while he
gave his statement, told the entire story beginning-to-end,
twice, and reluctantly let go of Clark while he signed
paperwork. Clark had never been so proud in his life.

"All right, then," Adams said, once Daniel signed for the

sixth time. "I think this is all we need." He smiled, eyes kind
and gentle. "You did a brave thing today, son."

Daniel grinned lopsidedly back. "Thanks. I kept thinking

it'd be a shame if I didn't do what you all taught me when I
was a kid. Keep my head, do what's safe, keep others safe. I
guess it's ingrained, now."

Adams nodded and pointed a finger at Daniel. "I mean it,

kiddo. Not everybody could do that. You were lucky, sure,
and maybe a little stupid." He glanced at Clark when the man
snorted. "But the entire city's going to be talking about you
and how you saved the guard and kept anyone else from
getting hurt." Adams shook his head.

"Probably throw you a damned parade," Sorenson said

with a wry grin.

Daniel blinked. "No," he said in horror. "You've got to be

kidding."

"I wish he was," Clark spoke up. "But you're going to be

the media's darling."

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Adams nodded seriously. "The press already got wind of

what happened. Heard them talking about a professor taking
out the madman in a... how'd they put it?" he asked
Sorenson.

"'Show of heroism, bravery, and selflessness the likes of

which this city's not seen in years,' I think," said Sorenson.

"Oh, God," Daniel said, his head thumping onto the

tabletop. "You can... oh, just shoot me now. That's such a
load of bullshit. I was just... what the hell was I supposed to
do? Run when I'd found a way to get armed? That's just
stupid."

Clark laughed and petted Daniel's back. "See what

happens when you do a good deed and save lives?"

"Takes you straight to hell," Adams said solemnly. "They'll

probably want to put him on that... what's that blonde
woman's name who's got the talk show? The lesbian lady?"

Now Daniel groaned in earnest.
"Ellen DeGeneres, sir," Sorenson said helpfully.
"Right. Probably put 'im on that show." Adams grinned at

Clark.

"Maybe even Oprah," Clark said with a sigh. "Book deal..."
Daniel glared at Clark.
"Movie," Adams said.
"Definitely," Sorenson replied.
"Now I wish I did have the evil eye," Daniel muttered.
"Maybe they'll even —" Sorenson started, but stopped

when they heard yelling in the hallway, inarticulate but
coming closer.

"That's McGaverty," Adams said.

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"Yep," Sorenson agreed.
"Sir!" McGaverty said, closer now and sounding pissed and

worried. "I know you think you can do whatever the hell you
want, but damnit, they're taking a statement in there and
that room's off —" The voice abruptly ceased.

Sorenson pushed away from the wall with his hand on his

holster, eying the door. Adams stood and did the same. Clark
pushed himself and Daniel back from the table, bodily
blocking Daniel in a swift movement built on instinct and fear
at the anger and worry in the officer's voice. He started to
stand, and the door opened. Sorenson made to draw, but
they all stopped dead when Lucian Gray walked into the room
followed by Tweedle Dee or Tweedle Dum—one of the two
bodyguards who pulled double duty by guarding the doors at
Break.

Clark blinked. The vision of Lucian in an exquisitely

tailored, dark-gray suit filled the entire room. His long hair
was pulled back from his face, his arms were relaxed at his
sides...

...but his expression was all thundercloud and carefully-

restrained lightning bolts.

Daniel peeked out from behind Clark's shoulder and

gulped. "Small gods indeed."

Lucian said nothing. His eyes locked on Clark's face.
"Uh... hi?" Clark said, moving to stand next to Daniel, arm

loosely around his waist.

With a snarl and a curl of a thin upper lip, Lucian crossed

the room and was around the table in four long strides.
Lucian grabbed a shocked Clark by his shirt, shoved him back

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into the seat, and then bent to kiss him squarely on the
mouth.

Clark's eyes went wide, and his hands opened and closed

as he tried to sort this out.

Daniel's jaw dropped.
"And just like that, Bailey's dreams for his daughter's

runner-up potential husband are shot to shit," Adams said.

"You ass," Lucian said, pulling away to glare at Clark.
"The hell did I do?" Clark gasped when he found his voice,

and felt Daniel touch his shoulder.

Lucian's features settled into his version of irritation: chilly

gray eyes and flaring, dainty nostrils. "I'm running damage
control over a bartender escorting a heroic professor from the
scene of a murderous rampage," Lucian began. "The
reporters are trying to figure out what the owner of Glow,
Bliss—and yes, Break—was doing on-scene. They're trying to
connect it to something larger, and it's taking every ounce of
my considerable control to manage my position. Father is
apoplectic over the entirety of the day and over your
connection to me." Lucian's sculpted eyebrows went up and
down. Clark swallowed.

"I won't sleep for a solid week, and I'm tempted to ask

your looming lover here if I can take it out on your hide,
Maxwell." Lucian glared, and Clark didn't know if he should be
irritated, amused, worried, or, what, exactly.

"And you," Lucian said, standing upright and looking at

Daniel. "I want to thank you for giving this city something to
cheer about after such a tragedy, but I must confess, I also
want to tie you to something rigid while I explain how I feel

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about you putting Clark and yourself into danger." He sighed
a shaky breath, stepped closer to Daniel, and kissed the
professor lightly on the cheek.

"Think we should... give them the room, sir?" Sorenson

asked, sounding bewildered.

"And leave the hero at the hands of the merciless political

machine and miss the show? Hell no," Adams replied.

"I didn't... uhm... mean to?" Daniel ventured. "The danger

part, anyway. Is there anything we can do to help?"

Lucian surprised Clark by taking Daniel's hand and

squeezing it as he put the other on Clark's shoulder and
spoke in a slow, carefully-measured voice. "You will help me,
most assuredly. First: know that the DA would be a madman
to try to prosecute any portion of what you did today, Daniel.
Won't happen, so if that was... a minor worry, then let it
cease."

Daniel nodded, and Clark breathed easier, looking at little

Luke in wonderment. It was his day to be proud of everyone
he loved, apparently.

"Second: do not return to your homes. The press is

swarming, and you don't need such things." Lucian tilted his
head. "Clark knows where to go."

Clark thought about it for a second and then nodded.
"Third: you will do an interview with members of the press

in a venue that I select at a later date," Lucian said to Daniel.
"Small press conference, really, and Clark will be there." He
said the last with shades of irritation, and Clark shut his
mouth.

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"It'll be after things settle." Lucian sighed. "Now then. I

must get back to the public eye. But I'm..." He sighed and
showed more vulnerability than Clark had seen in years with
a slight tremble of his shoulders and shaky voice. "Glad
you're all right. Both of you."

Clark stood and hugged Lucian, who was, after all, a young

man. Brilliant, entirely too worldly, and a cold, calculating
bastard, yes, but also his friend. "Thank you," Clark said into
Lucian's ear, and the mayor's son made a soft noise and
withdrew from both men, regal facade shimmering and
settling like silk over his features.

"Of course," Lucian said, releasing Daniel's hand and

stepping toward the door. "Oh," he added, turning with his
eyes down and a smile playing on his lips. "When these men
are through with you, I have a car for you in the alley. The
press might still manage to get close, but I would imagine
these upstanding examples of our police force will want to get
you both safely into a car and away with minimal fuss."

Sorenson shifted, frowning. Adams merely smiled and said

nothing to Lucian, as if he knew better.

"Excellent," Lucian said, and took his leave with one hand

in his pocket and long hair swishing over the fabric of his suit.

Clark blew out a breath. Daniel sighed, leaned against

Clark, and said conversationally, "It is nice to have princes
that like us. I think."

Clark wrapped both arms around Daniel and contemplated.

The peace of this moment in comparison to the rest of the
day was insane by its contrast, and Clark felt a knot of
tension slowly begin to unravel between his shoulder blades.

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Adams pushed off the wall and rested his elbows on the

back of a chair. "Interesting company you've fallen into,
Danny Boy."

Nodding, Daniel slid his arms about Clark. "Seems to be. I

had some idea, I think, but it's getting real today. Maybe to
everyone's benefit, but it's dizzying."

McGaverty appeared in the doorway, a scowl on his face

and pale skin lit with an angry flush. "His Majesty has left the
fucking building," he grumbled. "And there's an unmarked car
in the alleyway. I suppose that's for them?" he asked,
nodding to Daniel and Clark.

Adams straightened with a sigh. "It is. And we're pretty

much done here. I want one of our cars as escort as they go
to..." He turned to Clark.

"The Magnolia," Clark supplied. "Considering its clientele,

the security is tight. There's an underground garage with a
guarded gate that won't allow press or anyone else through
without proper reservation and identification."

"Good," Adams said. "Then you're free to go." He smiled.

"I'll give Bailey your regards, Daniel."

Clark immediately starting walking toward the door, arm

around Daniel and watching him closely to make sure he was
okay.

* * * *

Watching Clark work with the chief and Lucian had

changed Daniel's inner model of Clark. Fitting together all the
stories with what he knew of the lover in his bedroom, he was
forcibly reminded of his dream with the tiger. Clark was as

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much a force of nature as the demi-gods of New Amsterdam's
politics, and he was glad there had been no clash with his
police family, the safety net of his childhood.

Walking down the familiar hallway, Daniel remembered

peeking through wire- reinforced windows while running
around with the pack of policemen's kids. He remembered
crouching under desks during hide and seek, going to the
hospital to visit injured patrolmen with his aunt, the scent of
burned gunpowder, the taste of doughnuts and well-sugared
coffee white with cream, struggling prisoners shouting
obscenities, and the perfectly-pressed front desk officer there
to greet it all.

As they neared the end of the hallway, Daniel picked up

his pace when he saw a familiar, slender figure leaning
against the front desk. "Mary!"

"Danny! You idiot!" The short, salt-and-pepper-haired

woman collided with Daniel, threw her arms around him, and
squeezed until he couldn't breathe. "You moron. You..." Mary
shook him, hugged him, and started in again without losing a
breath. "Calling me like that again! You're damned lucky
Bailey reported your status when he found you, or I'd have
hunted you down. Damnit. Let me look at you."

She abruptly pushed Daniel away from her and twirled a

finger. He held his arms out and turned for her, with a
sheepish grin at Clark. "Good?" he asked.

"Good," she said with a sigh, walked up to him, and poked

him in the shoulder. "Don't. Do. That. To. Me. Again."

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Clark stepped next to Daniel. "Yes, let's listen to the nice

lady, shall we?" Clark quipped, a sly smile showing dimple
and upper teeth.

Daniel rolled his eyes and leaned into Clark. He saw Mary's

eyes catch that motion and go wide, then she grinned at him.
She tilted her head in Clark's direction, and he nodded.

"Mary, this is Clark. Clark, this is Mary Innes. She's...

family. She's the voice that gets everyone through the fire."
Daniel sighed and gave Mary another hug. This time she
returned it, and he felt her tremble just a tiny bit. "Thanks,"
he said softly.

Gruffly, Mary said, "You're welcome. Just..." Mary took

another breath and then couldn't seem to say anything.
Instead, she punched Daniel hard in the shoulder, and he
winced. "Just glad you're back in one piece. Stay that way."
Mary looked up at Clark. "Heard how you're takin' care of
him. Keep it up, all right? Sometimes he needs looking after."

"So I've noticed," Clark said wryly, looking at Daniel. "I'll

do my best," he said to Mary. "It's a promise."

Mary's eyes widened. "You'll do. You'll do. All right. I gotta

get back." This time she gave both Clark and Daniel a nod
and stalked off into the bustle of a working station.

Daniel sighed, watching her go. "You're on her good side,

Clark. That's impressive."

"What can I say?" Clark retorted. "Mother figures adore

me."

Rubbing his shoulder, Daniel laughed and hugged Clark

before turning to the left of the front desk. He opened the fire

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door and let Clark take the weight of it as he went through
and waited for the others.

Adams, Sorenson, and McGaverty followed Daniel and

Clark into the stairwell. Sorenson went to the outer door and
turned to look back at Adams.

"You two," Adams said to the other officers. "Out and

guard and be there to open the back door to the car. There's
only a few steps to go, and I don't expect trouble, but..."

"Plan for it anyway," Clark supplied. He sighed and pulled

Daniel to him, squeezing hard but briefly. "Keep your head
down and eyes on the car."

Sorenson opened the door, and a wave of noise invaded

the stairwell. It wasn't as loud as back on campus, but a
chorus of questions rose, each individual one getting lost in
the caterwaul. Daniel ducked down, watching where his feet
needed to go while he inhaled Clark's scent. Sorenson got the
back door of the Towncar open, and Clark got Daniel inside.
Clark barely had time to clear his ankle and foot from the
door before Sorenson slammed it. The officers moved ahead
of the car, shouting and pushing the press back so the car
could move out of the alleyway. A slender man was behind
the wheel. Daniel also noted that the Towncar's glass was
bulletproof, making the view watery and out-of-focus.

"The Magnolia, sirs," the driver said.
"Has anyone called ahead?" Clark asked.
"I'm not sure, sir," the driver said. "But you can use my

phone to check if you like."

"I like," Clark said, taking the black phone when the driver

handed it back.

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Daniel closed his eyes, rested against Clark's strength,

shutting out the world. Daniel had told the story of what
happened enough times that he could let it go. The blood was
past. His hands strayed across the planes of Clark's stomach
and sides, grateful for Clark's presence and solidity.

Clark kissed the shell of Daniel's ear. "Just going to call

and make sure they're ready for us," he said softly, one hand
in Daniel's hair. "Get you safe in a room so you can rest."

"Mm..." Daniel hummed, melting at Clark's touch. Trusting

that Clark would do what was needed, Daniel let go of
consciousness and fell asleep.

* * * *

Protectiveness flared fierce and bright as Daniel went limp

against Clark. Flipping open the phone, Clark dialed
information, and in moments, a courteous male voice said,
"The Magnolia Hotel. How may we serve you?"

"This is Maxwell Clark," he said, trying to keep his voice

soft, though he knew the professor would probably sleep like
the dead.

"Yes, sir!" the clerk said. "We've been informed you might

call."

"Mr. Gray made arrangements, then?"
"Of a sort, sir," the clerk replied. "You have a penthouse

room at your disposal. But we've not been told if you need
any specifics. Mr. Gray was in a bit of a rush."

"I imagine so," Clark said. "Yes, specifics."
"Go ahead, please, sir. I'm ready."

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Clark grinned. "We'll need access to the underground

parking area. I'm with the hero of the hour, he's exhausted,
and the press are hounding us."

"Already done, sir. You'll have clearance, and there will be

staff waiting to ensure that the press stay back from the gate.
We'll escort you to the room in the private elevator from the
garage level. No need to interact with anyone but staff."

"Perfect," Clark said. He hugged Daniel closer and ran his

lips over dark hair before he continued. "I'll need a few
changes of clothing—just large, loose, and comfortable. Not
sure how long we'll be with you before we can retrieve our
own things. Food—stocked fridge if possible."

"Yes, sir. Of course."
Clark considered. "Stock the bathroom, too. Something for

long soaks and two of the largest, coziest robes you've got."

"Sir, if I may?"
"You may." Clark's lip twitched.
"While I do not know your level of involvement with

Professor Germain, might I suggest the Romance package? It
would be easy to direct the staff, fast to do as it's stocked,
and comes with robes and bathing accouterments."

"Perfect."
"And flowers—any preference, sir?"
Clark smiled, thinking of the vase of lilies that Daniel

always kept at his house to remind him of his mother. "White
calla lilies. Vases full of them, if you can."

"We can and will, sir. Do you know how far out you are?"
Clark considered. "Probably at least half an hour."

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"Fantastic, sir. It will be ready for you when you and your

guest arrive."

"Thank you," Clark said, infinitely pleased.
"And may I say, sir—we appreciate you both very much.

My son is a student at NAU."

Clark paused and closed his eyes. "I'll pass that along to

Daniel when he's a little more conscious. Thank you."

"Of course, sir. Do let us know if your needs change before

you arrive. We thank you for thinking of the Magnolia."

Clark clicked the phone shut and sighed. He needed rest,

but first he would see to it that Daniel was safe, clean, and
settled. That was more important than anything else in
Clark's entire world. The car pressed through traffic, and
Clark shut his eyes, listening to his lover breathe. He gently
petted Daniel's hair and let himself get lost in the reassurance
of touch. The crisis of the day faded in his mind now that the
university and the station were behind them. Clark hoped
Daniel didn't mind the idea of Clark attached to his hip for at
least the next forty-eight hours. Maybe seventy-two.

Maybe forever.
The Magnolia was in Old Town, and the streets were

narrower, traffic thicker. The press gave chase, and a
helicopter whirled over the car as it navigated a series of
turns before slowing for the final one. The renovated Magnolia
Hotel had made a name for itself by doing anything and
everything—up to and including flying in a real pony for the
daughter of a guest because it was her only wish for her
birthday—for its clients. The building was only twenty stories
tall, with old-world architecture and antique furnishings, and

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the four penthouse suites had been added during the
renovation. Not only were the new rooms secure, they were
also decadently comfortable, a perfect combination for what
Clark and Daniel needed.

The Towncar turned and descended on a ramp with narrow

concrete sides. Clark could practically hear the press gnashing
teeth. The car paused at a service gate: not a bar like other
garages, but a twelve-foot, black metal gate. The garage was
staffed by ex-military and professional guards who didn't
know how to be anything but well-armed. Catering to the
paranoid elite did require certain adjustments to typical hotel
operations, and Clark sighed in relief.

The driver gave their name, and the gate opened to allow

the car to pass. The driver moved the car just beyond the
gate and then stopped, making the press van behind them
slam on its brakes. Slowly, the gate closed, and only then did
the driver continue deeper into the garage.

Clark saw hotel staff standing outside an elevator, and as

the car came to a stop, a man approached. Reluctantly, Clark
ran his fingers over Daniel's cheek, gently rousing the
exhausted man. "Daniel?" Clark whispered. "Wake up for me.
We're here."

Sighing, Daniel caught Clark's fingers, closing the gap to

kiss Clark's mouth. "All right. I think I'm awake..." He sat up,
still holding Clark's hand, and looked out the windows and
chuckled. "Then again, maybe I'm still asleep and this is a
dream?"

"As long as it's a good dream, I'm okay with you blurring

the line on real versus not right now," Clark said, as the car

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door opened. "Let me go first, and you can lean on me as
much as you need to."

Daniel nodded, and Clark kissed the professor hard and

swiftly before maneuvering around him to climb out. He
offered both hands to Daniel, who took them. Clark gave
stern nods to the staff, who kept their distance, and Daniel
managed tired smiles as they made their way to the elevator,
where a man held the doors like he could do it for all eternity.

The attendant slipped inside the elevator with a quick turn

of the penthouse-level key. Clark held Daniel against him,
hoping the room that awaited them would be good for
Daniel's spirits. Clark worried about a crash. Daniel had shot
and killed a monster today, but killing was still killing. The
circus and whirlwind of the rest of the day was good for
distraction but bad for added exhaustion. Clark felt like he
could sleep for a year without issue and knew Daniel had to
be in worse shape.

"Penthouse level, sirs," said the attendant cheerfully as the

elevator stopped. "Please allow me to hold the doors while
you key in your code to room two."

Daniel peered out into the hallway. "I hope you know how

to get in. I do want to see the view from up here."

"Sure," Clark said softly, leading them to room number

two. He keyed in the birthday of Lucian's childhood friend,
and the lock glowed green with a soft chirp. The door
automatically opened, and they walked into the room.

Penthouse Number Two was the Blue Willow Suite, and it

was done in rich shades of cerulean blue. The small landing
just inside the door was elevated from the sunken living area.

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There was a door into a bedroom immediately to their left,
next to a fireplace with a stone hearth. Over the mantel was a
mirror surrounded in a frame with the traditional blue willow
china pattern hand-painted on the wood.

The furniture was sparse but comfortable, all in white and

blue and rich wood tones. A balcony ran along the back wall
of the suite, curtains pulled back by dark blue ropes. Each
suite came with a full kitchen, and Clark was pleased to see
the counters covered in antique blue willow china that was
heaped with food. He knew without looking that the fridge
would be full and the bar stocked. There was a bucket of
champagne chilling, and the hotel would send up fresh food
from Leaf at every meal unless Clark called to stop them.

Dozens of calla lilies stood in simple, glass vases. A short

hallway ended in an oak door that led into the master suite:
over-sized king bed, more floor-to-ceiling windows, a
bathroom with a soaking tub and large shower. Lucian
sometimes stayed at the hotel for meetings with his staff and
knew the room was Clark's favorite.

"Well, here we are," Clark said, as the door clicked shut

behind them with a soft, pneumatic hiss.

* * * *

"Oh, lilies." Daniel's breath caught at the familiar flowers

amid all the perfect white and blue. He was half-afraid to step
down from the entrance platform, but the lilies convinced him
it would be all right. They were a touch of comfort in the
unfamiliar richness of his surroundings. "I think... I think this
is bigger than my house."

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"Since we'll likely be here a few days, it's good to have

plenty of space."

"Days, huh?" Daniel asked, daunted.
"One can hope," Clark answered, and caught Daniel's hand

to pull him toward the master bedroom. "Come on. Let's get
you out of those clothes and on your way to clean."

"All right," Daniel said, following. He realized with relief

that the university would likely close after the shooting. Since
he and Clark had already gone through the work of
rescheduling his clients, there were no responsibilities he had
to deal with other than the promised interview for Lucian.

The hallway was dim, the hinges silent as Clark pushed

open the door into the back bedroom. Daniel stepped in and
saw light streaming through the bank of windows. On the bed
was a massive pile of pillows and two sets of dark blue silk
pajamas. Daniel spied an ornately filled basket on the
nightstand and smiled, wondering what was hotel standard
and what was Clark's ability to conjure.

Clark turned to Daniel and kissed him. "Alone," Clark

murmured over Daniel's lips. "With no reporters or political
demi-gods trying to interrupt." The next kiss started gentle
and grew deeper, and Clark made a soft sound. Daniel pulled
Clark closer, arms sliding against Clark's back. He trembled
as he tasted Clark, need flaring high. Tears startled him, and
Daniel broke the kiss to take a deep, harsh breath.

Clark took Daniel's shirt off, one thumb stroking over

Daniel's cheek through the tears. He tossed away the
borrowed bit of cotton before returning to knead Daniel's
lower back. "Only good dreams here," Clark said quietly.

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"Let's go into the bathroom and get you sitting down to take
off the shoes and pants." Clark slipped under Daniel's arm
and started walking toward the other door.

"Probably for the best," Daniel whispered, wiping his face.

"Can you tell me... when he fired down that hallway, where
were you? What happened? I heard you and the woman, and
I thought he was targeting you because... well, you were
there. And I thought... I really thought I'd lost you, you
know?"

Nodding, Clark led the professor into the bathroom, and

Daniel sat on one corner of the tub. Clark kept a hand on
Daniel's shoulder, turned on the water, and knelt. "I came
through the front entrance and went to the lounge first,
looking for you." Clark spoke softly and got Daniel's shoes off.
He pushed up the stained denim to caress Daniel's skin before
taking off each sock.

"Went upstairs when I didn't find you. Managed to miss

most of the exodus as people were still confused. It happened
fast." Clark finished with the socks and took a foot in each
hand, squeezing them to a soft sigh from Daniel. Clark helped
Daniel lean back so he could start undoing Daniel's jeans. "I
heard a gunshot down the hallway, saw a girl in a doorway
screaming. I got to the girl. I think it startled the killer, but I
was behind cover by the time he fired, and the bullet went
wild."

"He was firing single-handed, too." Daniel propped himself

up on his elbows. "I remembered thinking it was stupid of
him, but, God, I'm glad." The tears fell, and Daniel didn't
bother to wipe them away. "I'm sorry I'm so out of control

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right now, and I feel so damned needy. I think that after
everything, you'll be all right with me like this?"

Clark finished getting the pants off and threw them into

the far corner with unmasked distaste. Wrapping his arms
around Daniel and pulling up, Clark kissed Daniel soundly,
hugging tightly. When the kiss broke, Clark's eyes were fever
bright.

"Please don't be sorry for what you need. Not after today—

not ever." Clark's expression softened, and he cupped the
back of Daniel's head. "I want you no matter how you are: in
control, out of it. Up, down, sideways. You and anything you
need or want are safe here with me.

"I want to do anything in my power to make sure you're

on your way to content and stable. You did something
incredible today, Daniel," Clark said, kissing him. "I'm proud,
and thankful, and there are no rules about what you 'should'
or 'shouldn't' be. Just be you, be here with me, and let me
take care of you." To Daniel's wonder, Clark's eyes grew
moist before he continued. "I thought I might lose you, too,
and I meant it when I said you're not getting out of my sight
if I can help it."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Daniel said, stroking

Clark's cheek.

Clark sighed. "Good. Though I had quite the nice speech

prepared for why you couldn't close the door all the way if
you had to take a piss." He grinned.

Daniel barked a laugh, startled by the joy he felt at seeing

Clark smile. He put his head on Clark's shoulder and laughed

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so hard he nearly cried again. Clark crooned in Daniel's ear,
petted his hair, and braced him tightly around his waist.

"I've got you," Clark said, tone tender.
"You do. I'm glad you do." Daniel hugged Clark, starting to

feel like he might get through this with Clark at his side.

When the worst of the storm was over, Clark knelt again to

remove Daniel's underwear, tossing it aside with the jeans,
and helped Daniel into the tub. Once Daniel was in, Clark
shucked his own clothing with efficiency. Warm water flowed
into the tub and down the drain from two faucets, and Clark
grabbed a blue cloth. Wetting it down, Clark set about
cleaning Daniel's legs, rinsing as he worked. "I hope you don't
mind if I have your pants burned in the furnace," Clark said
as he scrubbed at Daniel's skin.

"Mmm... that would be doing me a favor," Daniel

murmured, hands dropping to Clark's shoulders to steady
himself while he watched the brownish red stains run down
the drain. When the water was clear, Clark dropped the
stopper. Daniel shivered. "I'm so glad this is all coming off
finally."

"Wish we could have done it earlier." Clark grabbed a blue

packet from a basket and ripped it open to dump the
contents. The water turned milky, steam starting to roll.

"I wish we could have, too, but I don't think there was

time," Daniel replied, while Clark climbed over the edge of the
tub. He moved to stand behind Daniel, dropping a kiss to the
professor's neck.

"Yeah," Clark said on a sigh.

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Daniel made a soft noise and caught one of Clark's hands

in his. "Much better with you... like this..."

The water rose to mid-calf, and Clark hugged Daniel before

sitting, helping Daniel sink into the tub with him. He chuckled.
"I think Adams might have died from laughter if we asked to
shower together. And fun as it would have been to see
Sorenson splutter..."

The slow bend made Daniel realize that his knees were

bruised in a way that echoed Clark's injuries from the night at
Break. Quietly laughing at the irony, Daniel winced as he
settled with his back against Clark. "Yeah. Both would have
been fun to see. Adams has known me since I was knee-high
to a cruiser, so he has the right."

"Mm," Clark agreed, letting Daniel get comfortable and

running one hand up to knead at the skin of Daniel's shoulder
while the other lay flat over Daniel's chest. "I love that they
all care about you." He paused, a grin shaping his next words.
"And they even managed Lucian without too much of an
issue."

"Managed Lucian?" Daniel laughed, his hands stroking

Clark's legs. "Like managing a force of nature, that. I was
impressed that they tried to stand in his way when they didn't
know what he was going to do. And you standing there
between me and whatever was coming down that hall."
Daniel sighed. "Thank you."

Clark didn't answer. Instead, he squeezed his legs and

gave Daniel a full-body hug, dropping tender kisses along
Daniel's neck. Each press of lips grew harder, and Clark
breathed against Daniel's skin, a tremble going through his

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body. Daniel covered Clark's hands, and the men stayed that
way until the water rose high over their bodies. Leaning
together, Daniel traced the line of Clark's thigh while the
bartender stretched to shut off the faucets with his foot.

Settling back against Clark, Daniel sighed. "This feels so

good. I'm..." Daniel paused, breathing as he felt trapped
between tears and truth. "I'm just thankful we're both here. I
almost don't care about the press or even if there's going to
be a trial or anything. I'm just... really glad we're both alive."

Again, Clark was silent, and Daniel frowned in concern. He

started to turn, but Clark held him tighter.

"It should have been me." Clark's voice was thick with

emotion, almost angry.

"Should have been you?" Daniel repeated.
"To pull the trigger," Clark answered, so quiet that Daniel

held his breath to hear the words. "Like I'm trained to do.
Like I'd want to do to protect you. Daniel, you're... everything
to me. And that sounds crazy when I say it out loud, just like
I know it's insane to think that if I'd been faster, or somehow
psychic, that maybe..."

When Clark trailed off, Daniel turned and wrapped his

arms around Clark, face against the bartender's neck.
"Clark..." Daniel tried, but anything he wanted to say got
stuck in his throat.

"It's okay," Clark soothed, palms caressing in aimless

patterns. "You're safe, and that's what matters. You did what
you had to do, and I love you all the more for it. And I
guess..." Clark's tone turned thoughtful. "I can't go back and
change what happened. And I can't protect us from the

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fallout. From thinking about what would have happened if... I
don't know what I would have done if that asshole had taken
you away from me."

"Me, either," Daniel whispered, overwhelmed and unsure

what to say or do. He wanted Clark to keep talking, to keep
reassuring him in ways he wasn't sure Clark even understood.

For a long moment the two men breathed together, until

finally Clark stirred. "Can't do much, but I know what I'd like,
if you're still up for it."

Daniel shivered, remembering his request in the hallway

when he was covered with blood and thinking life was too
fragile and short. "Anything, Clark," Daniel said quietly. "Tell
me?"

Lips brushed Daniel's hair. "After everything in our lives

and today, I want to love you slow. Get us out and dry and
onto the bed so I can taste every part of you and tell you with
my mouth and hands and anything I've got how much I want
you—need you." Clark paused to breathe near Daniel's ear.
"If you'll let me..."

The simple plea inspired a deep shiver. Daniel turned to

touch his mouth to Clark's, searching blue-and-brown eyes.
"Yes. I want you to," Daniel said slowly. " Just... take it all
away, for a little while at least."

Clark kissed Daniel. "Then let's get you to your feet,

Professor." Clark slid to the side and helped Daniel up and
over the edge of the tub, holding on until Daniel was steady
on the blue rug. Clark pulled the stopper while Daniel grabbed
two towels, handing one to Clark and drying himself with the
other.

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"Thanks," Clark said, and Daniel looked up, identifying the

expression on Clark's face as the one he got while he
organized a plan in his head. Clark wrapped his towel around
his waist and reached to take the towel from Daniel's hands.
He slung it around the dark-haired man's shoulders, rubbing
over Daniel's arms as he walked Daniel toward the counter.

Before Daniel could gather enough thought to form a

question or something to say, Clark went down on one knee
in front of Daniel and lapped moisture off Daniel's cock with
teasing licks and sucks. He caught Daniel's wrists in a gentle
hold as Daniel arched, pulling against Clark's grip, testing.
Daniel gasped as Clark worked lips and mouth and swallowed
water. As Daniel's body responded, Clark slowly tightened his
hands around Daniel's wrists, and he licked up and down the
length, making a low noise of pleasure as he suckled at the
very tip, tongue playing teasing games with the slit.

"Nnnah..." Daniel's hips moved as he filled. Clark made a

satisfied sound and stood, tongue licking at Daniel's nipple on
the way to vertical.

Without letting go of Daniel's wrists, Clark tilted his head

and captured Daniel's mouth, tongue pushing past lips and
teeth to dance for dominance. He sighed through his nose
when Daniel rubbed hard against Clark.

Clark rumbled a groan in the back of his throat and kissed

Daniel more deeply. He let go of Daniel's wrists to slide both
his hands up Daniel's arms and around the back of Daniel's
neck, thumbs rubbing skin. He molded along the length of
Daniel's body, and Daniel ran hands down Clark's back to grip
his ass, pressing them tightly together. Daniel's hips moved

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against Clark, the wet heat between them making him groan
softly into the kiss.

After minutes lost to grinding bodies and eager sounds,

Clark pulled away. Daniel looked into lust-darkened eyes
while Clark undid the towel from around Daniel's shoulders
and wiped it perfunctorily over his skin. Clark bit his lip and
ground purposely against Daniel, as Daniel leaned back to dry
chest and torso. Daniel found himself wanting to get up on
the counter, wrap his legs around Clark, and be taken right
there.

Clark kept them joined at hip and pelvis while he got

Daniel dry. Then he dropped the towel with a sly smile before
pushing away and clasping Daniel's hands in his. "I hear good
things about this bed nearby," Clark said, voice rough with
lust.

Shakily, Daniel took an uncertain step toward Clark.

Dazed, breathless, and painfully aroused, Daniel nodded. "A
bed sounds really good right now, though that counter
seemed pretty comfortable." He shook his head, clearing it.
"Right. Bed."

Clark laughed, rich and full, and turned them to slow-walk

Daniel backward and out of the bathroom. "Counter... wall...
floor..." Clark hummed and kissed Daniel with his eyes open.
"Lucky I like soft surfaces, else we'd never make it," he said
as they reached the bed. Clark barely paused, taking Daniel's
weight and easing him back onto the comforter.

Sighing as the softness enveloped him, Daniel pulled Clark

on top of him. "Mmhm," he hummed. "I'm lucky I have you."

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"Each other," Clark gently corrected. He propped himself

up on his forearms and lowered his head to suck at Daniel's
throat while grinding groin to groin. "Lucky to have each
other."

Daniel trembled beneath Clark. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes."

His arms wrapped around Clark, and he held on.

[Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter 13

Clark kissed and licked everything within reach, and Daniel

reveled in skin on skin. He wanted more, longed for it. More
friction and noise, more of Clark's words and mouth and cock
and anything, so long as it drove every thought and event of
the day out of his head.

Clark traced Daniel's ear with his tongue. "Want to taste

every piece of you. Map your skin and make sure every part
of you is here with me." Clark's hands moved under Daniel's
arms, and he wrapped his fingers over Daniel's shoulders.

Daniel rubbed his cheek against Clark's, grip relaxing,

hands smoothing along Clark's back, breathing evening out.
"I'd love that," he whispered.

Clark went still, and Daniel could feel the force of focus

turning all on him. Slowly, Clark kissed a line from below
Daniel's ear, down his neck, and onto his chest. Daniel
moaned a heartfelt, "Yes." Daniel's eyes fluttered closed, and
he tensed, heat rising in his veins.

Warm hands slipped under and along Daniel's upper back.

Clark dragged lips and tongue in scorching patterns while
teeth left nips and marks. Daniel breathed in shallow pants,
and he flexed against Clark, pulling his hands up and behind
his head. He flashed back to being on his knees in the
hallway, but on the heels of that nightmare, Daniel
remembered the hard, frantic tackle. Daniel shivered, and his
voice cracked with gratitude as he uttered a single word.
"Clark."

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Quickly, Clark licked a line up Daniel's chest and then

pulled himself up to place the lightest of kisses on Daniel's
lower lip. "Right here..." Clark whispered and feathered a kiss
to the side of Daniel's mouth. "I'm with you, and you're safe
and here with me." He rained light kisses over Daniel's face,
and his hand meandered down the side of Daniel's body. The
touches brought Daniel back to the present, and Clark's
reassurance settled him..

Humming in tender approval, Clark smeared a kiss over

Daniel's lips. Daniel opened his eyes to try and capture
Clark's mouth, but Clark rumbled a noise and moved on. He
caught Daniel's unpierced nipple in his fingertips and rubbed
deeply into the skin around it while he kissed Daniel's jaw.
The flesh hardened as Daniel's breathing quickened, and
Clark dragged his thumb across the skin in a flick that earned
a gasp.

"Want more of you," Clark murmured, and his voice helped

Daniel just feel.

"Then take more," Daniel whispered. "Please."
"Love your arms like that," Clark said, heat in the praise,

and Daniel flexed, enjoying Clark's weight and consciously
keeping his hands out of play. "Love you under me like this,"
Clark said over Daniel's skin.

"And I love your mouth, your voice," Daniel said. "I

haven't had anyone in me for a few years." He took a shaky
breath. "I don't know what I'll be like with you teasing me,
but I'd love for you to try."

Clark groaned, the sound throaty and confident. "I can do

that," he husked, and he bit over Daniel's ribs before he

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braced to take Daniel's cock back into his mouth. He rolled
Daniel's nipple as he took the length deeply and drove the flat
of his tongue along the underside, making Daniel cry out,
body bucking and twisting.

Clark sucked hard for several long strokes, and Daniel

jerked. In seconds, Daniel's breathing turned into soft cries.
Clark tilted his head to let Daniel slide against the back of his
throat, and the tight, moving heat wrung a low sound of need
from Daniel. Clark pushed Daniel's leg up and wide, hand
reaching to tug on the nipple ring and force a groan from
Daniel's lungs.

Swallowing, Clark came off Daniel's cock and bent lower,

humming before his teeth found the flesh where Daniel's leg
joined his body, sucking hard and sudden.

"Oh, God," Daniel gasped. The heat within Daniel grew

with each sensation, each sure touch. Clark knew how to turn
him on, get his mind to stop, and Daniel whimpered at being
seen this way, at being so fundamentally understood. Daniel's
hands tightened on his forearms, and he spread his legs
wider.

Clark finally let go of the skin between his teeth, satisfied.

"Hearing you gets me so damned hot," Clark managed, as his
fingers released the nipple ring and slid down to massage
Daniel's straightened leg. "Love how you spread yourself for
me," Clark growled.

The possessiveness in Clark's voice pulled a rough chuckle

from Daniel. But when Clark turned his head and licked at
Daniel's base before swiping lower with his tongue over
sensitive balls, Daniel twisted and gasped. Clark licked a line

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along the underside of Daniel's length before swallowing
around the head to swirl his tongue.

"Please," Daniel pleaded, body aching. He knew he needed

to ask to get more, but he had no idea what to ask for.
Clark's hands felt so good. "Touch... more? Harder?"

Clark paused before his lips left Daniel's cock, and he

dropped a kiss over the koi tattoo. "Harder?" he asked in
rhetorical warning. Clark fell forward onto Daniel and pressed
him into the mattress. Clark's mouth found Daniel's for a kiss
that began as a brush of lips and transformed into Clark
diving between Daniel's teeth and sucking breath and sound
from his lungs. Daniel closed his eyes and let Clark make the
choice of when to give him air.

Hips ground against Daniel, and he met Clark with another

soft cry. Gently, Clark's fingers came up to comb through
Daniel's hair, and Clark groaned when Daniel's head turned
toward the light touch like a flower moving toward sunlight.
Clark exhaled into Daniel's mouth, and Daniel took the air
into his lungs, feeling like he was falling backward. Daniel
wrapped his legs around Clark's, the friction and weight
making him moan his breath back into Clark's mouth. The
fluid motion of their bodies made Daniel wonder if he might
drown in a lake of combined desire.

For long moments there was only breathing, fading light

flooding through the windows, the sound of silk moving
beneath two bodies, and the quiet noises of need. When Clark
pulled away from Daniel's mouth, Daniel whimpered.

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"Want you on your stomach for a little while," Clark said.

"Roll over for me." Clark moved to give Daniel room, hands
immediately wandering over skin.

Gulping for air, Daniel nodded, shuddering and grateful for

Clark's constant and comforting tactile reminders. Daniel
managed to turn, pushing pillows out of the way as he went.
While Daniel moved, Clark leaned sideways to the basket on
the nightstand, retrieving lube and a condom.

Settling, Daniel faced to the right. Not quite sure what to

do with his hands, he laid his arms at his sides. Softly he
said, "I... I can't see you this way, Clark... please.... please
talk to me?" Daniel couldn't help the faint note of pleading at
the end, but he didn't mind it so much. It would be all right.

Quickly, Clark lay down along the length of Daniel's body,

pressing while he laced their fingers together. He kissed
Daniel's shoulder and cheek. "I want you like this so I can
keep my promise," Clark said. "Said I wanted to taste every
part of you." Clark licked Daniel's ear, and Daniel shivered.
"So I'm going to kiss down your spine and drag my teeth on
your skin. And then..." Clark trailed off as he nibbled at
Daniel's neck.

Daniel's fingers tightened on Clark's, and he stretched

under Clark's ministrations, letting his muscles bunch in his
shoulders, tightening his ass, and pushing up against Clark's
hips and groin.

"Mmm. And if you want my voice, I'll tell you how

incredible you feel against me," Clark said as he shifted,
keeping his weight on Daniel's body. He squeezed Daniel's
hands and placed open-mouthed kisses over Daniel's shoulder

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blade. "How you taste like oil and just you." He moved toward
Daniel's spine. "And it's delicious and driving me insane with
the want for more." Daniel moaned, his forehead pressing
against the mattress.

"God, yeah," Clark said breathlessly, and Daniel felt lips

and teeth drag across his backbone. "I love that you trust me
and want this. That you know it's me here with you, and that
I'd never do anything but make you feel good." Clark released
Daniel's hands and moved lower, licking down the center of
Daniel's back.

"Yes, Clark," Daniel said, his skin burning in the wake of

Clark's teeth. His freed hands clenched into fists, and Daniel
put them above the small of his back. "I trust you."

Clark's breath caught, and lips brushed over the knuckle of

Daniel's thumb, and a shiver rocked Daniel. Clark kissed
above the cleft of Daniel's ass, and Daniel grunted as his back
arched, suddenly hard enough that he hurt. The sheets didn't
give him nearly enough friction, and he made a frustrated
sound. A wet tongue traced lazy patterns on his lower back,
and Daniel whimpered. Questing hands rubbed the backs of
Daniel's thighs to the globes of his ass, fingers digging into
the skin as Daniel rocked against the bed. When thumbs
parted his cheeks and spread him open, Daniel's hands
clenched into fists. Clark braced arms on the backs of Daniel's
legs, holding him still while sighing a hot breath over Daniel's
tailbone.

Entire body tensed in anticipation, Daniel swallowed as a

flood of something almost like fear raced through him. His
pulse pounded in his throat, and Daniel opened his mouth to

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pant. Then Clark licked a fiery line over Daniel's entrance,
tongue darting to tease along the rim of muscle, hands
squeezing while he played.

"Gah... uuuhh—God!" Daniel tried not to buck as hot oil

slicks of sensation swept over him. He'd never allowed
himself to feel all of it before—never let his world narrow to
the sensation of wet muscle against the most intimate of
places—and Daniel's upper body twisted as he felt like a sheaf
of paper being held to a flame.

"Perfect," Clark growled, and rested more heavily and

more evenly on Daniel's lower body.

Again Daniel arched, testing, and when he couldn't move

his legs at all, he moaned a soft, "Thank you."

"Anything," Clark whispered in reply, before turning his

head to bite and suck at the flesh of Daniel's cheek. Body
writhing and out of his control, Daniel shuddered when Clark
traced a line back to Daniel's entrance, tongue pressing
harder and wetter. Desperate tones of need colored Daniel's
breath as Clark drove him crazy. Daniel cried out, held his
own wrists so hard that his fingernails bit into the skin. Clark
dove in deeper, and Daniel squirmed. Each breath, each
probe wrung soft cries as the flames licked higher.

"Oh... God, yes..." Daniel breathed.
An answering groan met Daniel's words, and Clark turned

his head to push his tongue into Daniel. He set up a slow
rhythm of actions done in a pattern: inside, circle out, push in
faster, tease edges, then slip in slower and grip harder.

Completely at Clark's mercy, Daniel clenched and released,

moaned and shuddered with each addition to his spiraling

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arousal. It was becoming more and more evident that with
Clark's weight where it was, Daniel couldn't move his hips. He
loved and hated being unable to find the friction he needed to
finish himself. This unstoppable ratcheting up of his body's
need was utterly out of his control and all in Clark's hands
and mouth, and he reveled in it even as he cried out,
"Please... oh God, Clark. Ah, shit... please touch... touch me."

The only answer Daniel got was a slow, deliberate circle

around Daniel's wet entrance before Clark plunged his tongue
back inside and clutched at Daniel's ass with a bruising grip.

"Aaaah... nnngh!" Daniel sobbed. "Oh Lord, Clark...

please... I... God..."

With a chuckle that broke into a moan, Clark continued

working Daniel over with unrelenting hunger, and it wasn't
until the tone of Daniel's cries took on notes of desperation
that Clark finally had mercy. Withdrawing his tongue, Clark
licked a long, painfully slow line up to Daniel's tailbone. Clark
shifted on the bed, hands holding Daniel still.

Panting, Daniel waited while Clark grabbed a pillow. Clark

turned and manhandled Daniel until his back pressed against
Clark's front. Daniel kept his hands between them, and he
helped Clark as much as he could. He lifted his head for the
pillow, shifted when Clark's leg slipped under his knee, and
leaned back as Clark's arm hugged him. Clark's other arm slid
under the pillow to brace on Daniel's chest. Daniel sighed,
reveling in being so held, and he spread his palms to touch as
much of Clark's skin as possible.

"Mm," Clark murmured, mouth covering the pulse point in

Daniel's neck. Hot kisses sprinkled on Daniel's skin, and Clark

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reached for the lube while he ground against Daniel's body,
locking them together.

Daniel cried out, pushing back and bucking in Clark's hold

before gasping, "Please... yes, please."

Clark sucked in a long draw of air and canted his hips

backward while he tore open the condom and got it out, in
place, and rolled down over his length. He hissed through his
teeth while his hand worked, and bent back over Daniel.
"Please what?" Clark said in a low voice next to Daniel's ear.
Daniel heard the telling sound of the lube cap followed
immediately by the slick, wet sounds of hand on latex.

Panting, Daniel grunted as he violently regretted every

time he'd made Clark try and explain a please to him. He
whimpered for air and for mind enough to speak. Clark nipped
at Daniel's ear while his hand wandered low and pushed
between Daniel's cheeks.

"Please fuck me with your fingers and make me moan?"

Clark husked.

"Yes, Clark." Daniel groaned, before he added, "Please."
Clark pressed the pad of his coated middle finger over

Daniel's entrance. "I love you saying, 'Please.'"

Teeth catching cartilage and free hand splayed over

Daniel's chest, Clark circled with his finger once before
pushing at the firm ring. Daniel moaned a low, shuddering
syllable of want as he felt Clark touch and tease before a
slow, so-gentle stretch, and then Clark's finger was in him.
The slick slide of something moving in and out of his body
always felt strange, but letting Clark do this to him felt good
in a way he couldn't explain. He surrendered to the invasion,

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and each time Clark's finger moved, he rocked and breathed
a soft note of need.

"I could do this for hours just to listen to you," Clark said,

placing soft kisses on Daniel's ear, temple, cheek. "The way
you feel makes me burn... makes me want to take you...
want to feel you stretch..."

Two fingers pressed into Daniel's body, and Daniel's mouth

fell open. Clark's other hand moved until his fingers found the
nipple ring and began toying with it, moving it through the
flesh.

"Ahhhh!" Daniel's eyes opened, unfocused, as his ass

clenched. Feeling the man behind him reassured Daniel, and
his breathing shook with the slow currents of building
pleasure. Clark's fingers kept their maddeningly slow tempo,
pressing deeper, spreading.

"Tell me what you want, Daniel," Clark growled, before he

occupied his mouth again with Daniel's skin.

At first Daniel could only whimper as his body moved with

Clark. He swallowed, feeling his pulse racing under his skin,
and he managed a shaky laugh at how he was utterly and
unabashedly taken. "You... you might not..." Daniel had to
pause and breathe so he could speak after one particular jolt
through his nipple. "Believe me... I want this... as long as...
you do." His voice lowered to a whisper. "Just take me when
you want me, Clark."

Clark kissed Daniel's neck. "Take you when I want you,

hm?" Clark murmured, teeth biting at Daniel's skin, while
Clark's fingers picked up the pace.

"Yes," Daniel whispered.

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"I've wanted you for weeks," Clark said, as he lifted his leg

beneath Daniel's so his fingers sank deeper to brush the
prostate, and Daniel keened a cry. "Want you now."

Daniel's head fell forward, the words and deeper

impalement making him buck back. Clark pressed his hand
firmly against Daniel's torso and ground his erection against
Daniel. "And will take you... slowly," Clark said tenderly. "Just
to hear you moan for more."

A noise came from Daniel of its own volition—a guttural

groan—and he shook within Clark's arms, knowing he was
wanted and safe.

Rearranging his hold on Daniel, Clark kissed Daniel's

shoulder and upper arm, fingers slipping from Daniel's
entrance as his hips pulsed upward to line up the head of his
cock. Daniel remembered how well Clark's cock had filled his
mouth and tried to arch his back a little further. Clark helped
Daniel move, and grunted as he drove forward with his hips.

The sound that came from Daniel's throat started as a note

of frustration, of need and want, and then went high with
shock when muscles gave. Clark gripped Daniel's hip to
steady them both, and Clark stretched Daniel to the splitting
point. Sweat sprung up and trickled from his back, neck and
chest, and Daniel shook as he tried to relax muscles over
which he had no conscious control.

Clark remained still and rigid, and Daniel gave small cries

with each breath. Finally, his body protested the invasion less
harshly, and Daniel managed, "Slow... more... please."

Comforting sounds poured from Clark amidst the panting,

easing Daniel as he carefully pushed forward. Daniel cried

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out, but Clark sliding within was easier than the initial
invasion. The deep friction, impaling him with slow intent,
shoved everything else aside, and Daniel could feel nothing
but Clark inside him, behind him.

"God, you feel incredible," Clark praised, voice barely

audible. "So, so, good Daniel... ooooh..."

"Clark..." Daniel whispered breathlessly.
Pausing again, Clark used his bottom leg for leverage and

drew his upper body closer. Daniel cried out when the motion
pulled him over Clark's impalement. Daniel thought he'd come
right then and there, and then his body unwound.

Clark breathed a long sigh colored by syllables of pleasure.

He bent forward, licking the back of Daniel's neck and rocking
his hips, shallow and slow. Daniel burned, each fill making
him gasp and tighten, each gentle release easing him. The
rising heat melted any semblance of thought, memory, or
fear, and there was only the two of them and what they made
together.

A ragged moan met Daniel's ears when Clark tilted his hips

to slide deeper. Daniel groaned when Clark angled himself so
he could flatten his body along the entirety of Daniel's,
completely trapping the professor's arms while he rolled and
pushed. "Oooh..." Daniel's back arched so that he could meet
Clark, head moving to expose more throat to the onslaught of
Clark's lips. "Oh, God, yes..."

"Daniel," Clark whispered, voice sounding equal parts

awed and strained as he kept the rhythm. His hand wrapped
around the front of Daniel's neck, and Daniel whimpered in
anticipation. Clark's thumb traced over Daniel's jaw, and he

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bent to place hard, open-mouthed kisses over the throbbing
pulse.

Daniel rocked back against Clark, crying out in need,

"More? Please, Clark, harder?"

"Anything you want," Clark whispered, as he leveraged a

firmer thrust into Daniel, making Daniel jolt. "Anything you
need." Clark's fingertips tightened by fractions of degrees
over the far side of Daniel's throat. Daniel swallowed, hands
scrambling to find some purchase; something to hang onto,
to grab.

But there was nothing Daniel could do. Clark had him.

Clark was wrapped all around him, loving him, taking him in
all the ways that made him so lost and so hard he ached.
Daniel's hands flexed against Clark's chest. He wanted this to
continue forever, even as his body screamed for release now.

"Could do this all night," Clark growled, as he sucked flesh

between his teeth and worried it with his tongue. He
responded to the way Daniel's body tensed and moved, and
backed off to vary his rhythm to be purposefully erratic: hard,
harder, shallow; slow, slower, fast.

"Keep you here," Clark said, voice muffled against Daniel's

skin, fingertips pressing into the column of Daniel's neck.
"With me. Like this."

Daniel gasped, "Forever..."
Daniel's blood lit in fever; he'd never tried this, never

known he needed like this, but it was Clark who acted upon
Daniel's word. Daniel trusted, even as he felt lightheaded,
body tightening about Clark as he craved more air, thirsted

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301

for more friction, and he writhed as he threw his control and
pride on the bonfire they'd created between them.

"Nngh... please... please touch me," Daniel whispered,

feeling his breath rasp in his throat. "Please... help me come."

Clark's shiver rocked the entire bed. He shifted, and when

the hand covering Daniel's throat left, the other one took its
place, tilting Daniel's chin up and squeezing. "Yeah," Clark
breathed. "Touch you... stroke you... I'll get you there..."

Clark brought a hand to his mouth and wet it before

reaching down to smear pre-come and wrap a hot, slick palm
around Daniel's length. Clark stroked slowly, keeping time
with his thrusting hips.

Too much, too good, too everything, and Daniel gasped,

caught between two kinds of unrelenting bliss. He twisted and
shook and felt his orgasm boiling against the old, cold rock
barriers of his need for complete control.

Behind him, Clark's breathing was all pants and muffled

grunts, but the pace never wavered. Daniel's control fell to
slag as Clark drove him higher and higher. Then Daniel
stopped breathing, his body hardened, and he hung on the
horns of a tension so thick and hard that he wondered if he'd
break on the other side.

Clark turned his head to whisper with tenderness and

command, "It's me, Daniel. Let go."

And Daniel did.
The reminder that Clark was the one holding him—fucking

him, taking him, loving him—pushed Daniel over so forcefully
that he bit his lips open as his orgasm erupted from his body.
It rammed Daniel's breath from his lungs in a grunting,

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shocked cry of release. His come shot from him, and Daniel
couldn't stop the helpless note in each gasping breath as
Clark rocked into his clenching body. Clark make a quiet
sound that was a prelude to a high, sudden cry, as if Clark
had held back every noise to focus on the final one. Clark
clutched at Daniel as his body quaked, froze, rolled, and then
finally let him up for air.

When Daniel began to shiver, Clark withdrew his leg from

beneath Daniel's. Clark remained wrapped around and inside,
making soft sounds of comfort with each trembling breath.
Consciousness faded, the world going gray and calm until
Daniel came back to his body, to where he was and who held
him.

"Clark," Daniel whispered and sighed. "Love you."
"Love you, too." Clark kissed Daniel's shoulder and neck,

massaging down Daniel's arm before lifting it and placing it
along Daniel's side. With a wince, Daniel flexed his hands and
shifted to straighten his elbow. He sighed as the motion
dislodged Clark, and his joints protested. Daniel turned
around painfully to face Clark and burrowed in closer. He let
his sore muscles tremble all they liked as he hugged Clark.

Clark rubbed Daniel's shoulder and back. Daniel smiled

against Clark's skin, relaxing. He thought about just falling
asleep, but knew neither of them would rest well in the long
run. "Think maids would make it up while we shower?" Daniel
asked sleepily.

"I think I could arrange for that to happen, yes," Clark

said. Pulling back, Clark looked at Daniel, eyes dancing with
mirth and affection. He grinned. "One second."

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Rolling back, Clark groped for the antique phone on the

nightstand and looked startled when the receiver came off the
cradle into his hand. He was still blinking when a crisp,
feminine voice spoke on the line, clearly audible at Daniel's
distance.

"Yes, sir? How may we assist?"
"We're in need of fresh linens," Clark said with laughter in

his voice. Daniel nuzzled the pillow below his cheek, enjoying
Clark's amusement.

"Certainly, sir. We'll send someone up right away."
"I trust it's fine that we'll be occupied in the adjoining

bathroom?"

There was only a tiny pause before the woman continued.

"Of course, sir. I'll explain the situation to our staff, and be
assured they will not disturb you."

"Excellent. Thank you so much."
"You are more than welcome, sir. Glad you're enjoying

your stay, and do let us know how we may help." Now she
sounded entertained, and Clark laughed as he replaced the
handset.

Grinning, Daniel looked up at Clark. "You are very good at

that granting wishes thing, aren't you?"

"Didn't I tell you? My great-uncle's a genie." Clark kissed

Daniel's forehead. "He married the telepath who gave me all
my bartending skills."

Daniel laughed out loud. "I believe you." Gingerly, he

began to extract himself from Clark's embrace, the promise of
a hot shower making it easier. "Guess we shouldn't scare the
maids too much."

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304

"Probably not," Clark somberly agreed. "We'll want them

to come back and pay us another visit. Or twenty. While
we're here." Clark smiled impishly and helped Daniel off the
bed.

"So: shower, fluids, and sleep for a month?" Clark asked,

holding out his hands to Daniel, who got up and slipped
gratefully into Clark's arms.

"Yes, please. That sounds amazing."
Clark hugged Daniel to him, and his long inhale shuddered

as it filled his lungs. "As long as you're happy." Clark kissed
Daniel, pulling back to stare into Daniel's eyes. "You can have
anything you want." He frowned in mock-seriousness. "But
we negotiate the further taking of major organs. You can
keep the one you've already got, though." Clark winked
before he turned to support Daniel as they walked toward the
bathroom.

Daniel laughed, leaning against Clark. "Well, I guess if I

have your heart, the rest can wait."

"One thing at a time," Clark said. "One thing at a time."
Shaking his head, Daniel walked with Clark into the

bathroom, and they closed the door.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Hearts Under Fire

by H.J. Raine

305

Chapter 14

"Now, I know you gentlemen are exhausted, but if you'll

humor me for a little longer, I've got one more to show you."

In the backseat of the Towncar, Clark repressed a smile

and squeezed Daniel's hand. He didn't need to look at his
lover to confirm the drawn mouth or the eyes that flickered in
annoyance.

"Thank you," Daniel said politely. "But I believe we've tried

enough for today."

"You two have been such troopers!" said Robert Wolf from

the front seat. Clark thought it was good of him to act like
Daniel and Clark were the long-suffering members of this trio
when he could tell that Robert was ready to kill both of them
if they didn't hurry up and find a house or condo that met
their standards. They'd only been looking for two weeks, but
that was a lifetime in the busy world of Mr. Wolf.

"This property isn't even listed yet. And I think it will meet

with your approval on nearly all your points." Robert grinned
at them in the rear view mirror.

Clark thought of Daniel's List of Requirements, which

covered everything from quality of tile to price range to
location. In truth, Clark thought it was a defense mechanism
that would somehow lead the obviously-errant Clark back to
seeing that Daniel was right and it was too expensive to live
downtown.

"Oh?" Daniel asked. "On what points will it fall short of

expectation, do you suppose?"

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"It's an older property, but it's been completely renovated.

Top to bottom, everything's brand new. It used to be owned
by an architect and his lover, who was apparently quite the
artiste."

Clark winced at the pompous pronunciation and thought he

could hear Daniel's teeth grind as Robert began to rattle off
all the upgrades. Shifting across the leather seat, Clark
wrapped an arm around the professor's shoulders. Daniel
looked at Clark and sighed, his body softening into the
embrace.

Clark kissed Daniel's cheek. "Want me to tell him where he

can put his art's teats?"

Daniel snorted in surprise and laughed. Clark relaxed, the

worry gnawing at his insides slacking. It had been almost two
and a half months since the New Amsterdam University
shooting, and almost none of the days since had been easy
for Daniel.

The two men had stayed for a week at the Magnolia. They

received word from Heather, Jeffrey and various members of
Daniel's police family about what was going on in the
aftermath. Clark managed his bar and business from the
room, and he managed Daniel's work as well. When the
professor wanted some of his work, Clark had Heather run it
by the hotel. When Daniel said idly that he missed a certain
pair of old pants or that it'd be easier to open a bottle of wine
if he had his own opener, Clark found someone to get the
items to them. He ordered in fresh calla lilies every single day
and gently forced Daniel to relax and take it easy.

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307

After a week, both men were stir-crazy but well rested,

and Clark went with Daniel to face the circus at home, since
Clark still refused to leave Daniel's side. That attitude was
enforced after Daniel broke down on his sidewalk when he
saw students and parents holding aloft signs that both
thanked him for his bravery and condemned him for not
acting faster. Clark got Daniel inside the house and held him
until he would listen to Clark explain that Daniel was not a
god and what he'd done was nothing short of a true miracle.

After an hour, Clark's heart nearly broke at the tough and

hurting, "Okay," that floated up to his ears from the man
wrapped in his arms. Clark wanted to shoot things, but
instead he drew Daniel a bath and fetched a stack of work for
Daniel to do.

The anger and gratitude continued to war in response to

Daniel's actions, and the press was a relentless, hungry beast
eager to rile the masses. Lucian called the press conference
two days after Daniel went home. It was a short and sweet
affair held on the lawn next to the Gray Building downtown.
Mayor Hendrick Gray thanked Daniel on behalf of the city and
asked him to tell of the other brave men and women who did
their share during the tragedy. Clark stood nearby and
watched as Daniel calmly walked through the events of that
day and gave the names of people who had helped him do
what he had to do. Jeffrey, Heather, and Ken were in the
crowd; Clark saw Jeffrey start to weep and saw Heather hug
him tightly.

Vigils were held, the news spread across the country at the

speed of information, and Clark kept Daniel insulated from it

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as best he could. Invitations to talk shows did come in,
filtered through Lucian's press agent, but Daniel politely
turned them all down. Frustrated, the press hibernated, but
on the day of the hearing they completely circled the
courthouse. It was chaos, but the judge ruled Daniel's actions
had been entirely in self-defense. Lucian, the mayor, the chief
of police, and Clark looked on from the back of the
courtroom.

A week later, Daniel returned to his office. Clark returned

to the bar and clubs, but he took Daniel lunch every day. And
he appeared on Daniel's doorstep in the evenings with an
easy smile and inquiry about dinner.

Hearing how the people involved in the shooting recovered

helped Daniel once he was back at ground zero. The doctors
took a vein from Bernard's thigh to replace the one destroyed
by the bullet, and by the time Daniel got back, Bernard was
already at his station by the front door with a spectacular
battle scar. Ashley was so traumatized by the shooting that
she dropped out. Daniel grieved, but handing diplomas to
Derek, Anne, and Paul helped Daniel find hope and continue
to heal.

Clark listened to Daniel recount everyone's stories, and

Clark tried to keep his distance. But when Laurie needed a
shoulder replacement and her family's insurance couldn't
swing it, Daniel came to Clark. Seeing Daniel want to help so
much that he was willing to bend his pride and ask for money
nearly broke Clark's heart. And Clark didn't let Daniel much
past the first sentence of his logical explanation before Clark

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signed the check. When Laurie promised to be back the next
school year, Clark held Daniel while he cried at the good part.

Most nights were full of gentle loving and holding one

another, and Clark discovered that happiness was like
heartbreak, in that Clark often wondered if one could die from
it. Just as Clark was there for Daniel with anything and
everything Daniel needed—and sometimes with things the
professor didn't even know he needed—Daniel returned the
sentiment tenfold.

When Daniel whispered, "I love you" above Clark's mouth,

Clark heard what Daniel didn't have to say: that he kept his
promises, and he would keep Clark safe, sound, and sure for
so long as he drew air. Daniel's words became Clark's new
religion. He couldn't quite make it to church to thank some
eternal being, but he could love the man whom the universe
had saved not once but twice. Every sigh, every touch or
moan or tender glance—every time the professor said,
"Please" at the end of a command—Clark felt a piece of
himself heal toward whole. With every piece, Clark made
promises of his own to protect, comfort, and love. Being with
Daniel was by far the easiest, scariest, and most satisfying
thing Clark had ever done in his existence.

Then the fateful day came when Clark observed that Daniel

had a houseful of belongings, a warehouse full of toys that
were gathering dust, and his loft wouldn't hold all of it.

"What are you suggesting?" Daniel had asked, looking up

from his day planner.

"That we find a place for us," Clark replied, sipping coffee

across the table from Daniel. He looked up in time to catch

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310

the unmasked look of shock and joy that flickered over
Daniel's face before the analytical and cautious expression
returned.

"I'm pretty tired of bed hopping, Professor. And I'd like to

come home to you and vice versa."

"How would we manage the finances?"
Clark shrugged. "Don't worry about them."
Daniel scowled, and Clark laughed. "Okay, Professor. We'll

work something out that'll appease you."

The scowl turned dangerous, and Clark grinned. "If that's

okay with you, Sir."

Daniel's lips twitched, and he reached to squeeze Clark's

hand before returning to his class preparation. Later, when
the two men talked about what they wanted and where, it
became clear that the major point of contention was price.
Clark wanted to be close to work, and he'd mapped out the
areas that would put both himself and Daniel near their
respective places of business. Daniel said those were too
costly. Clark argued that it didn't hurt to look.

"Possibly something to rent, but not buy," Daniel said,

washing a pan from dinner.

"Why not buy?" Clark asked, handing Daniel a dirty wine

glass.

"There's no way we could possibly afford anything there."
Clark then proceeded to tell Daniel exactly what Clark was

worth, thanks to selling off his family's estate so many years
ago and going with Chance and Lucian's suggestions of
financial advisors, and Daniel had nearly dropped a plate.
Clark repressed a laugh, and Daniel recovered to say in that

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311

firm, I'm-the-dominant-partner-here-damn-it-voice, "That's
well and good, Clark, but we're getting something that makes
sense for the both of us."

At the memory of that tone, Clark kissed Daniel's temple,

and the professor rested against Clark in the backseat of the
Towncar.

"So, it's older but completely redone," Daniel said quietly,

more to himself and Clark than to the realtor.

"It's a gem of a townhouse, guys," Robert confirmed. His

hearing got exponentially better when he thought the more
difficult party in this set of clients was starting to relent. Clark
thought of blood in the water calling to sharks.

"Where is it?" Clark asked.
"158 Lily Avenue," Robert replied.
Daniel said nothing as he looked out the window, arms and

legs crossing. Clark knew Daniel must be tired if he exhibited
such readable body language. He hugged the professor
tighter.

"But you love lilies," Clark quipped.
"Not multi-million dollar ones," Daniel groused.
"Let's just take a look," Clark murmured. "If nothing else,

it'll make him stop telling us about the hand-carved trim and
golden toilet seats."

That earned Clark a small smile and a sigh, and he turned

his head to meet a knowing gaze in the rear view mirror.
Clark winked at Robert as the Towncar turned onto Lily
Avenue. Manicured trees and sidewalks lined both sides of the
street, and cheerful townhouses marched like sentinels for
two blocks. Clark's heart did a little dip and twist when he felt

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312

Daniel draw in a sharp, silent breath as the vehicle stopped in
front of number 158.

"As I said, it's four stories," Robert gushed. "Rooftop

terrace with a complete Japanese paper glass wall for privacy,
theater room in the basement next to a home gym—all
furnishings there included. Italian tile, antique French oak
flooring, and four bedrooms."

Robert continued to babble as he climbed out of the car

and got the back door open for Daniel and Clark. Daniel's
eyes went wide, and Clark felt his insides melt with affection
as he reached to take Daniel's hand.

"Come on, Professor," Clark said with a gentle tug. "Let's

go see the updated appliances and waterfall shower."

Daniel kept staring while Robert fiddled with the lock on

the front door, and took another step closer to Clark. "All
right, one more. At least this one looks friendly."

Clark laced their fingers together. "Very friendly," Clark

agreed, watching Daniel's eyes flicker as though trying to see
everything at once.

"Come right this way, gentlemen!" Robert called. He held

the door, and Clark and Daniel stepped inside the foyer.

"If you wouldn't mind, you can slip off your shoes and

leave them next to the door," Robert said. "The floor's radiant
heat limestone; toasty in the winter, cool in summer." Clark
followed after Daniel, watching his lover try to keep a mask of
composure and noting every hint of a smile or quick intake of
breath.

"I think what you'll both really enjoy is this way," Robert

said, heading into the main part of the house. "Custom work."

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313

Robert gestured at the industrial stairs. "Downstairs is the
laundry, gym, bath, and home theatre. Be happy to show you
all that in a moment, but if you'll step this way, first."

Beyond the stairs, the townhouse opened up into a great

room with built-ins in dark oak along the right wall and a
gorgeous skylight that shone down from above. Everything
was perfection, and all Clark could think about was the
crammed shelves at Daniel's house that held everything from
knick-knacks to reference manuals. Clark swallowed as his
mind's eye played a reel of Daniel carefully unpacking
belongings into the room, and he snuck a glance at the
professor walking into the kitchen.

Daniel touched granite countertops, carved cabinet doors,

and star-shaped burners. When he looked at Clark, the
hunger and longing were painful, and Clark felt the need to
make Daniel happy burning him alive. Clark had to check
himself so as not to make a noise or pull Daniel into his arms
and say that the place—and anything else Daniel might want,
small islands or stars alike—was Daniel's.

Robert cleared his throat. "It's been a long day, and I

know you two enjoy looking and getting a feel for a property
on your own time. So, if you'll indulge me? I'll set up shop
here and gather up what we've seen to like and dislike
today."

Clark nodded without taking his eyes off Daniel. "Let's go

upstairs, Professor?"

"Yes, please," Daniel said, his voice calm, but his hand

shook as he took Clark's.

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Silently, Clark led them back down the hallway and up the

stairs. He had to take a breath when they reached the second
level and saw a paned-glass door that opened out onto a
manicured garden. The terrace was the size of the great room
below, and Clark moved to the left to go into yet another
bedroom. Two more doors opened along the back, and Clark
just shook his head.

"Damn," Clark said, whistling.
"There's just no way." Daniel leaned his forehead against

Clark's shoulder. "I don't think I can look anymore, Clark.
This is just going to kill me. That terrace, and the sunshine,
and I was prepared to give up my garden if we moved. This
has to cost millions, Clark. We can't... I can't... I don't think I
can do this."

Clark grasped Daniel's chin and made their lips meet. One

of Clark's hands played up and down Daniel's back, and he
pulled back to look into big blue eyes. "You're right, Daniel.
You can't do this, but we can.

"I can see you in the front room, working. And making

dinner on the stove. And we'll sit outside in the morning
sunshine to drink coffee. You'll grow things, and I'll remember
to water them sometimes. We can throw a Christmas party
and invite the entirety of your police family without worrying
about where they'll all fit." Clark kissed Daniel again.
"Anything for you, Daniel. Anything for us."

Daniel stared at Clark, eyes searching. "You really do

mean it for us? It's not... I feel so helpless in all this, but you
don't mean to make me weak at all, you're just giving me

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315

your strength, the way I give to you when you have a
nightmare or when you give me control for a scene."

"Sooner or later, you'll realize that when I say 'I love you,'

I mean that everything I have is yours. And I give it gladly."

Daniel sighed. "Someday I'll believe that, and sometimes I

even know why, but other days..."

"I know," Clark said. "I need to see one more thing. Come

with me?"

"Okay." Daniel hung onto Clark's hand for dear life. Clark

brought Daniel's knuckles to his lips before heading back to
the landing. He climbed the final set of stairs, went down a
hallway, and stepped into the master bedroom. He swept
Daniel around to stand in front of him, pulling the professor
close and resting his chin on Daniel's shoulder.

"I wanted to see where we'll sleep at night," Clark said,

brushing his lips over Daniel's neck.

"You really don't fight fair, do you, Sergeant?" Daniel

pulled Clark's arms around him. Clark made a quiet noise of
mock innocence, and after a moment, Daniel continued, "This
room is beautiful. Plenty of room for all our things, and I'd be
able to get rid of my sagging mattress. Us... sitting here...
reading before bed..." Daniel huffed an aggrieved laugh. "Now
you have me helping."

Clark laughed, thinking of iron wills and pride and how

best to melt them. He considered how far he'd come with
Daniel. Because of this man and thanks to him, Clark knew
how to be truer to himself and how to be happier for it
without guilt or recrimination.

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316

"New bed for us," Clark said, lowering his voice.

"Something with posts. And sturdy." Clark grinned against
Daniel's cheek. "Maybe right over there?" He pointed to the
long wall. "Looks like the perfect place to lean me back, tie
me down, and make me beg... Sir."

Clark was close enough to see Daniel's eyes close. Daniel

pulled in a long, slow breath as his body tightened, and his
hands gripped Clark's harder. "Oh, Lord, Clark." Daniel
sighed. "I don't even know why I'm fighting anymore, or what
or whom. Maybe just myself. But I'm going to have to at least
take on some computer contract work, even if it isn't going to
pay for any of this. I'll feel better if I can help refill the coffers
after this thing empties them."

"If it makes you feel better, and doesn't put too much

strain on you, or interfere with helping me try out all the
equipment you have in your warehouse, then sure."

"All the equipment..." Daniel shook his head and laughed.

"And here I'd been thinking about filling the time I used to
serve clients with work." Daniel turned in Clark's arms, their
eyes meeting. "For most people, money is power, you know?
But you don't work that way."

"Deduction confirmed, Professor," Clark said with a tender

smile. "You're right. I do this because it makes you happy.
And I could die a happy man watching you figure out where
to put the stocks and the tomato plants in our new home."

Reaching up to touch Clark's dimple, Daniel said in

wonder, "That's still new to me. But the idea of making you
happy by puttering about with my tomatoes as you waited for
me in steel stocks could grow on me with time."

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317

"Well, so long as we have a strategy," Clark murmured.
The professor heaved a sigh. "Right. Okay. Let's do this,

then. I have to admit that part of me hates making Robert
happy, but at least we made him earn his commission."

Clark rolled eyes heavenward, picked Daniel up, kissed him

quickly, and set him down. "I refuse to be anything but
thrilled," Clark said, spinning them around. "Home."

Daniel laughed, closed his eyes, and held onto Clark. "Yes,

this is now home."

"I meant you," Clark said, and kissed Daniel soundly until

he had to break away to breathe.

Daniel gave Clark a crooked grin. "Well, come on then.

Let's go."

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