A Short Story

“You’re hurt,” Tom stated, his laconic responses beginning to grate on Booker’s nerves. “He hurt you.”

motivated by them to further his cause. He had been motivated, though negatively, by Booker

Falling forward, Tom pressed his lips against Booker’s open mouth and kissed him passionately. Removing his finger, Booker wrapped his arms around Tom’s narrow body and pulling him close, they thrust their bodies together as they continued to shudder out their release. Seconds passed, and when they were both finally spent, Tom slowed the kiss and sitting up, he trailed a finger over the seminal fluid covering Booker’s chest. “Wow,” he grinned.

Charles smiled. “Then it is no trick that I intervened. As I said, I saw this man fight, and I sought almost immediately to have him.”

Booker struggled to suppress a laugh as he pretended to ponder the significance of Tom’s reaction. “Well, you let Penhall hug you all the time,” he replied slowly, his brow furrowing in contemplation, and when Tom did not answer, he waggled his eyebrows suggestively as his mouth widened into a huge, teasing grin. “Is there something going on between the two of you that I should know about?”

Even though Booker had attended over a dozen therapy sessions (both with Tom and without), he still found the experience extremely uncomfortable, and he cringed inwardly at the question. He was a private person by nature, and discussing his feelings with a stranger was not easy. The intense psychological examination was new territory for him, and it had him stepping outside his comfort zone and leaping feet first into the unwelcome state of vulnerability and agitation. Although he had known

Seconds later, Booker’s tranquil face came into view and he managed a tense smile. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment. He felt like a fool because he knew both Booker and Levine were trying to help him, but he was struggling to control the fear that was steadily rising, making it difficult for him to breathe.

Emboldened, Tom lightly grasped Booker’s testicles, and with a tentative hand, he gave a gentle tug. He was rewarded with another moan and he smiled against the creamy flesh beneath his lips. It had been a long time since he’d had complete control over another person’s sexual pleasure, and he started to believe he could be the lover Booker deserved. Not that he claimed to have half the skills Booker possessed when it came to effecting an orgasm in a male partner, but in time he would learn.

The emotional anguish shining from Booker’s dark eyes brought a lump to Tom’s throat, and before he had time to think about the consequences of his actions, he leaned forward and brushed his lips over his friend’s quivering pout. The brief contact sent a shiver of arousal down his spine, and flustered and confused by his overt display of affection, he stepped back, his face flaming red and a shy smile playing over his lips. He had no idea what had made him act so impulsively, and uncertainty quickened his pulse. His stomach rolled with a mixture of nerves and humiliation, and he quickly lowered his eyes to the floor, too embarrassed to meet Booker’s gaze. But as a lengthy silence hung in the air, he dared to peer up through his long lashes,

“Booker, how do you know what it said? The last time we talked, you couldn’t read. Or have you been lying to me, all this time?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Booker and the uniform officers had found hidden within the walls of Holland’s house of horrors. The reality of it all was becoming too tangible, too confronting, and he didn't know if he was emotionally equipped to deal with the fallout.

After an excruciatingly uncomfortable cab ride back to his neighborhood, Tom paid the driver, and ignoring the curious stares from the many bystanders going about their Saturday morning business, he hurried into his apartment building. He felt vulnerable wandering around in public in his underwear, and he longed for the sanctuary of his home, free from the scrutiny of prying eyes. While he recognized he had acted irrationally, spurred into action by the ferocity of Booker’s kiss, it was the second time his lover had pounced on him and forcefully tried to demand what should only be given freely, and the uncharacteristic behavior unnerved him. Something wasn’t right, but as much as he loved the dark-haired officer, he was too afraid to hang around and find out exactly what was going on inside his head. He needed space, and although he didn't want to admit it, he also needed time to reevaluate their relationship. A ripple of uncertainty was slowly gaining momentum inside his mind, and he was no longer sure if committing to Booker so soon after his rape was the right thing to do.

“Todd.” I turned around to face him,” You don’t have to apologize. I’ve always like being able to travel with you. It’s...it’s been really cool. Even cooler knowing your a vampire cop. Not very many kids can say that about their guardian, now can they?”

“Oh little one, what are you doing here? Aren't you suppose to be doing something at this time?” Michael asks.

An expression of mild irritation cast a shadow over Holland’s face. He was not used to his playthings giving him cheek, and he briefly considered fetching his switch and giving the ungrateful officer the whipping of his life. But another idea quickly formed in his mind, and cleverly disguising the smile that threatened to expose his duplicity, he took a white, Egyptian cotton bath towel from the railing and handed it to Booker. “As much as I would like to debate the actual meaning of love with you, Dennis, I have something much more important to