Fear - 12

They left the bar well after midnight. When Shawn had suggested hesitantly that he should drive, Jared's only reply was to order him to get into the truck and keep his yap shut, so the ride back to the trailer had been made in silence.

"If you ever pull something like that again…" Jared growled as he pulled Shawn out of the truck. Keeping a tight grip on Shawn's arm, he dragged him inside the trailer, slamming the door before shoving Shawn down onto the sofa. "What the hell were you trying to do? Make me jealous?"

"No," Shawn whispered. "I was just dancing, and she was a woman. It's not like…" A hard slap ended what he was saying.

From there things got worse—much worse.

* * * *

Jared stood in the narrow space between the bed and the dresser as he pulled on a pair of jeans. "You better get your ass in gear. We're going to get your hair cut this morning, in case your lazy ass forgot."

Shawn groaned as he tried to sit up. If asked, and who would, he didn't think there was a part of him from his chest on down to his thighs that had escaped the beating and the brutal fucking he'd endured from Jared just a few hours earlier.

Jared grabbed his arm, pulling him to off the bed. For a brief, terrified moment Shawn though Jared was going to start again.

Then Jared looked at the dark bruises on Shawn's body. "Oh God, baby. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that." He gently put his arms around Shawn, kissing his forehead, his eyes, and then very softly his lips. "I was just—you were playing around with someone and it made me so damned mad. You're mine, baby, all mine. You know that." He brushed another kiss over Shawn's lips. "Say you'll forgive me. I promise I'll never do that again. Just don't leave me. Please."

Shawn touched Jared's cheek as he locked his gaze on his face. He knew he should do just what Jared had said, walk away—leave before it happened again. But the pain he saw in Jared's eyes tore into him, as it always did. It hurt worse than any beating. Still… "You have to keep your promise. This time you have to, because if it happens again—"

"It won't. I swear. I'll stop drinking if that's what it takes. I'll do anything you want me too. Just don't leave me." Jared was crying then, clutching Shawn to him so tightly Shawn had to bite back a groan of pain. "Please, baby. Please forgive me."

And Shawn did. Again. After all, it had been his fault, for dancing with that woman and then being the center of attention when her man got pissed.

Fear - 11

As soon as they entered the bar, Shawn knew things were going to go badly.

Dinner had been great; the restaurant was full of tourists and locals, none of whom seemed to care that he and Jared were two men together as a couple. But then the town catered to the ski crowd in the winter and affluent summer visitors who were world-wise enough to accept that in this day and age being gay was unexceptionable. Jared had been sweet and attentive and Shawn had lapped it up. This is the way it used to be—most of the time. He'd sighed happily more than once.

When they got to the bar, though, Jared had started to withdraw, moving away just enough to let Shawn know he was to behave as if they were only friends who happened to be roommates.

I can do this. Shawn looked around the bar. He knew instantly why Jared was acting that way. Most of the men were obviously guys from the construction crew and most had their girlfriends with them. So why are we here?

"Hey, Chuck, happy birthday," Jared said, slapping the back of a burly man with a crew-cut sitting at the bar. "How young are you now? Thirty-five and counting?" Jared laughed when Chuck flipped him off then flagged down the bartender to order them both drinks, totally ignoring Shawn in the process, other than to introduce him as the guy he was rooming with.

The next hour proceeded along much the same lines. Shawn met several of the construction crew and then was totally ignored by them—and by Jared. He finally found a vacant stool at the end of the bar, ordered a beer, and sipped it slowly while he watched Jared and his friends help Chuck celebrate his birthday.

"Want to dance?"

Shawn turned quickly and saw a woman standing there, a small smile on her face.

"Umm, sure." Why the hell not? At least it'll give me something to do.

She took his hand, leading him through the crowd to the small dance floor. He was glad the band was loud and the music was fast so he didn't have to really hold her as they danced. By the time they were on the third song, he realized he was having fun. He hadn't danced in forever—not since he and Jared used to hit up some of the gay clubs in the city back when they'd first met.

Suddenly a hand landed on his shoulder and he froze mid-step. An angry voice said, "That's my lady you're putting the moves on. I suggest you find someone else before I deck you."

The woman instantly moved to the man, wrapping her hands around his arm. "Then you dance with me, honeybunch," she cooed, smiling up at the man. "He's a lousy dancer anyway." She pointed at Shawn when she said that then tugged her boyfriend away to the center of the dance floor.

With a sigh, Shawn headed back to the bar. As he did, he looked around for Jared, praying he hadn't been aware of what had happened. He found him, standing with some of his buddies. Jared was watching him and from the angry scowl on his face, it was obvious he was not happy. As soon as Jared knew Shawn had seen him, he turned his attention back to the other guys, loudly ordering a round of shots for all of them.

Shawn looked at the front door of the bar, which suddenly seemed miles away, wishing he had the nerve to just leave. But he knew too well what the consequences would be if he did. At least I was dancing with a woman. That should count for something. I hope. Morosely, he reclaimed his seat at the bar.

Fear - 10

For the next couple of weeks Shawn spent his days turning the trailer into a home for them. He cleaned, dusted, and rearranged what little furniture there was, to give them the optimum amount of space to move around. When Jared came home tired and hungry, dinner was waiting for him. Afterwards they'd sit on the sofa watching whatever television program Jared found to his liking and then it was off to bed.

I'm turning into my mother, Shawn began to think as he did yet another chore or cooked yet another meal. Stay at home just like she did. No life of my own.

It hadn't always been like that with him and Jared. Usually Shawn worked too. He was a good mechanic—a very good one according to his various bosses. Now the only time he'd get to put those skills to work would probably be when the truck needed something fixed—the truck he had no access to now since Jared used it to drive to the job.

"You don't need to go anywhere, so quit grousing," Jared had said one evening when Shawn suggested he could start taking Jared to work.

"I could do the grocery shopping and what have you," Shawn had protested. "That way we wouldn't have to do those things on your days off."

When Jared scowled at him, Shawn backed off. Things were going well now, better than they had in ages actually. He didn't want to rock the boat. Jared hadn't even been drinking—or at least not much. He'd come home a couple of times smelling of beer but he hadn't been roaring drunk.

Then came the Saturday night when Jared returned after work and announced they were going out for the evening. "You deserve it, baby," he said, giving Shawn a tight hug. "Wear that blue shirt I like and the black slacks," he called over his shoulder on his way to shower, stripping off his work clothes, leaving them for Shawn to pick up.

"What would you do without me," Shawn muttered, as he deposited Jared's dirty laundry in the hamper and went to change. He wasn't really upset. How could he be? They were going out—together—on what amounted to a date. It was the first time in way too long. Since Jared had gotten the construction job, Shawn realized, which had been months ago.

He was almost dancing in elation as he got dressed then stood in front of the mirror on the back of the bedroom door to make certain he looked just the way Jared expected. He jumped away when Jared pushed the door open.

"Looking good," Jared commented while he started dressing. "Do something about your hair though. Tie it back." He dug through the top dresser drawer and tossed Shawn a leather thong. "It's getting too long. We'll go to the barbers in the morning. You're starting to look 'girly'."

Am not. Lot's of guys have longer hair and it looks good on them. Of course—he looked at himself in the mirror again—most of them are muscular six-footers like Jared. Not slender and five-nine like me. With a mental sigh, he pulled his hair back and tied it off.

"Ready to go out on the town, baby?" Jared asked a few minutes later, putting his arm around Shawn's shoulders.

"Definitely," Shawn replied, smiling up at him. "This is going to be fun."

Fear - 9

"It's… nice," Shawn said hesitantly as he looked around the inside of the trailer.

"Such enthusiasm," Jared muttered from behind him. "Beats the hell out of that damned motel room. Right?" When Shawn just nodded, Jared put a hand on his shoulder to turn him around. "Right?"

"Right," Shawn replied quickly. "Much better than that."

They were in the living room, which was large enough for a sofa and a table with chairs. The kitchen was on one side of the short hall that led to the bedroom. The bathroom and a closet were opposite the kitchen. Peeking into the bathroom, he saw it contained a sink, toilet, and a minuscule shower. The bedroom was almost as big as the living room—a dresser on one wall and the bed on the other with barely enough room to squeeze between them.

"Really, it's not too bad at all," he told Jared when he'd finished exploring, realizing that with a bit of work it could actually be a nice place to live.

"Told you," Jared said with a grin. "All it needs is you cleaning it up some. And we have to go shopping for real food. But first"—he put his hands on Shawn's shoulders and began steering him to the bedroom—"we have to make up for lost time."

Shawn's pulse raced when Jared said that. In spite of all their problems, there was one thing where they generally meshed well and that was sex. He sometimes thought if they could spend all their time together in bed then there'd be no drinking, no fights, no troubles between them at all. If wishes were horses…

As always, Shawn undressed first while Jared watched with lust-filled eyes. Then he made a production of undressing Jared before kneeling in front of him. Jared liked a good blow job for starters and Shawn was more than willing to give it to him. He loved doing that because it turned him on as much as it did Jared. Once his lover was good and hard, things could go one of two ways. The sex might be sweet and gentle if Jared was in a very good mood. Otherwise it was often hard, fast, and sometimes rough. Still, in the end, they were both satisfied and would usually lie together afterwards with Shawn's head on Jared's shoulder, their arms around each other, until one or both of them fell asleep.

This time it was not gentle. To Shawn, it seemed as if Jared was putting all his pent-up need into making Shawn feel like a receptacle and nothing more. I suppose at least it proves he wasn't messing around with anyone else while we were apart.

Shawn crawled off the bed to get dressed. He'd barely gotten his jeans on when Jared was behind him, pulling him tightly to his chest as he whispered, "I missed you, baby. I really did. I'm sorry I was so rough. Forgive me?"

And of course, Shawn did—as always.

Fear - 8

"He left earlier today," Ms Johnson told Gene. "There wasn't anything I could do to stop him, mainly because that bastard Jared never let him out of his sight long enough for me to talk to Shawn alone."

"What time did Jared show up?"

"Last night." Ms Johnson's lips pursed as if she'd tasted something sour. "It was, oh, around maybe nine, nine thirty. He had Shawn with him, so I guess he picked him up from work."

"Did Shawn look like he wanted to be with him?"

"Unfortunately, yes. He was all smiles, arm around Jared's waist and vice versa. And before you ask, it looked like Jared was sober, for once."

"What's Jared's last name, and do you know where he works, or at least worked?"

"Lewis, and I'd have to look at my records for where he said he worked." She went behind the counter to her computer. "Dang thing's practically as old I am," she complained as it took its time booting up.

Gene leaned over the counter to take a look and shook his head. I thought Windows 95 went the way of the dinosaurs.

"Don't worry," she said when she saw the look on his face. "I just use this one to store long-term renters' information. If I kept everything on my business computer I'd run out of room before I knew it." Turning back, she scrolled through file names, opened one, and nodded. "He's working, or was working, at that ski resort construction site on the other side of the Divide. Leastways that's what he put down. I suspect it's the truth but who knows if he's still there."

She wrote down the information and handed it to Gene. "You going looking for them?"

"Not really. It's not my place to. But I might call the construction company just to see if Mr. Lewis is still working for them." He smiled ruefully. "Why? Hell if I know. I just hate seeing someone being abused the way it looks like Shawn was."

"We should go up there and bring him back before…" She sighed. "But he wouldn't come with us."

Gene nodded in agreement, his gaze turning inward for a moment before he said, "People who think they love or care about their abuser, live in hope that things will change. It takes a lot to make them see the situation's not going to get any better. And even if that happens they still need to find the strength to walk away."

"You sound like you know from personal experience."

"Not really," he replied quickly, "but as a doctor I've seen too many abused adults in my time. As much as I try to make them understand the dynamics of their situation they're so deep into denial it's usually like talking to a brick wall." He smiled wryly. "And with that said, I should get back to work. I have a patient in fifteen minutes who will not be happy if I'm late."

Fear - 7

"Hey, Doc, to what do we owe the honor this time?" The older, gray-haired man swiveled in his old desk chair to look at Gene.

Gene smiled at Max Spitzer with a cocked eyebrow. "I can't just stop in to say hello?"

"Sure. But usually that's followed by, 'Hey, Max, I've got this strange rattle under the hood' and then you ask when we can take a look at it."

"It's an old car. What do you expect?" Chuckling, Gene shook his head. "I was on my way to my office and decided to drop in." He looked through the large plate-glass window on one wall of the office which let Max keep an eye on the garage. "Where's Shawn? Out to lunch?"

Max shot him a look. "Didn't know he was one of your patients, though sometimes I think he should be, as many 'accidents' as he has."

"So I've heard," Gene replied tightly.

"Yeah, I don't believe that one either. And to answer your question, he quit this morning. Said he was moving on."

"Alone?"

Max's mouth thinned in disgust. "Nope. I saw that truck belonging to his boyfriend sitting outside waiting for him. The boyfriend I mean," he added with a tiny smile. "In the truck."

"Damn it." Gene sighed, rubbing his forehead. "When are people going to learn?"

"Not to get philosophical, Doc, but not until they realize that being beat on does not equal love or caring in any way, shape, or form. Every time he'd go off on a bender, that bastard put Shawn through the wringer, which was too many times to count from what I saw."

"I wish… I don't suppose you know where they were heading?"

"Nope, not a clue."

"Or the boyfriend's name?"

"First name's Jared. Not sure about the last but Ms Johnson probably knows, since they were living at her motel for a while."

"Thanks, Max. I'll try her. Oh, and by the way"—Gene grinned a bit—"there's this strange rattle…"

"See, told you. You never stop by just to visit."

They both chuckled and then Gene took off, heading up the street to the motel.

Fear - 6

Shawn was almost back to the motel when his cell chimed. He answered it to hear Jared say, "Shawn, baby, I'm at the restaurant. The one we always liked to go to. Do you…will you meet me here?"

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Shawn replied, "Why?"

"Because I miss you. Because I want to apologize for what happened. Just… because. Please, baby."

"I…all right. I have to clean up some. I just got off work, but…okay."

"I love you, baby." Jared's voice went low and gravelly as he said that, hitting the right tone to send Shawn's pulse racing.

"I'll be there as fast as possible." Shawn hung up and almost raced the rest of the way to the motel.

* * * *

He arrived at the Fireside, a small mom-and-pop restaurant, to find Jared seated at 'their' table. It was at the back of the room, away from prying eyes. Shawn started to slip into the chair across from him, only to have Jared point to the one next to him. The second he sat, Shawn's hands were taken in a tight grip as Jared pulled him close enough to plant a hard kiss on his lips.

Afterward Jared leaned back, something between a smile and a smirk on his face as he asked, "Did you miss me, baby?"

Shawn nodded. "I did."

"Now that wasn't a terribly enthusiastic reply."

Shawn tried again. "I really did. I missed you terribly. I was so lonely."

"Well, not anymore, baby. I'm back and we're moving out of this one-horse town. I got us a trailer not far from the job site." Jared took Shawn's hand, squeezing it. "You're gonna love it. Off all by itself, even if it is in a trailer park—trees all around, a stream a few hundred yards away. Our own cozy little place 'til the job's over."

"But what about my job?" Shawn said, wishing seconds later he hadn't, when Jared scowled at him.

Jared immediately smoothed his features, smiling as he stroked Shawn's cheek. "You don't need to work now, baby. I make enough for both of us. You can stay home and take care of me. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Just like it used to be before I lost that damned job in the city and took this one."

Shawn covered Jared's hand with his own, knowing his hazel-green eyes had to be sparkling happily as he nodded 'yes'. Those had been good times—mostly. He'd felt needed, wanted, useful. He pushed thoughts of the bad times away. This was the Jared he remembered from before—happy, enthusiastic, caring. "It sounds wonderful," he whispered. "And maybe I can find a part-time job." He regretted the words the moment he said them. Jared's scowl was back in full force.

"Not happening. I want you there when I come home for lunch, after I get off work, all the time. That's the way it has to be."

Squeezing his eyes closed against the sudden feeling of panic, Shawn took a deep breath, opened them, and smiled. "Just the two of us. Together."

"Exactly, baby." Tangling his hand in Shawn's dark hair, he pulled him close again to give him a rough, demanding kiss. "The Two Musketeers."

That had been a joke of sorts between them. After they'd first met, they were always together when they went anywhere. "Like the Two Musketeers" an acquaintance had commented at a bar one night. The nickname had stuck.

"Now," Jared said, changing the subject, "let's eat and then we'll pack up your things and head out in the morning."

A cold knot of fear tightened Shawn's stomach for a moment. Do I want to leave? I-I love him but… but… "It's going to be good," he said under his breath. When Jared looked questioningly at him, Shawn smiled. "Things will be good again."

"Yeah, baby, they will. They'll be perfect."

Release Day: 'Dreams, Memories, and Reality'!

Dreams, Memories, and Reality

https://www.jms-books.com/romance-c-29_105/dreams-memories-and-reality-p-2757.html

GENRE: Gay Paranormal Romance
LENGTH: 42,380 words
RATING:

Philip lives alone with his dog Barnabas, miles from the nearest mountain town. Late one evening, while he and Barnabas are out running, they are attacked by a very handsome male. Philip shoots him, immediately regrets it, and brings him home to deal with his wounds. Soon he realizes there is something very different about the man, beginning with the fact he is unable to speak or understand English.

Adam is different. Other than recalling his name, Ád-hamh, he has no memories, including why he ended up naked in a cave high in the mountains above Philip's house. He survived on the blood of animals he kills, until the night Philip finds him and brings him home.

Slowly, Philip teaches Adam about his new life. In the process, he discovers things about Adam that will change both their lives forever.

EXCERPT:

Barnabas growled loudly, tugging angrily at his leash as he lunged at the thing he could see and smell ahead of him, so close and yet out of reach of his jaws. Turning he snapped at Philip, wanting his freedom. Philip jumped in surprise and the leash unfurled from around his hand. With one final pull Barnabas was free. He leapt up, his jaws closing around flesh.

His victim snarled in pain, trying to shake the dog off. Doing so brought him forward into the moonlight outside the cave.

Philip gasped in shock, even as he raised his pistol to point it at the man wrestling with Barnabas. Of all the things he'd expected to find out they'd been following, a man was last on the list. A dead gorgeous man with ... He almost dropped his gun when he realized the man had claws and fangs that glinted white under the moon's light.

"Stay where you are or I'll shoot," Philip called out, pointing the pistol at the man's chest.

The man ignored him, digging his claws into Barnabas' shoulder until the dog yelped and released his grip on the man's arm. But Barnabas was tenacious. Whining softly he licked his wound and then attacked again, fastening his jaws on the man's calf.

The man reached down, his claws going for the dog's throat.

Philip fired, smiling with grim satisfaction when the man let out a guttural shout as he clutched his side in a vain attempt to staunch the flow of blood from the bullet wound. Going deathly pale the man fell against the rocks at the cave's opening and then sank slowly to the ground.

Barnabas sensed the battle was at an end and released his grip on the man. Limping a safe distance away, the dog dropped down on his stomach to lick the wound in his shoulder.

Philip inched forward, keeping his pistol ready as he knelt beside the man. "Please don't move," he told him. "I'm, well, sorry I guess. I didn't want to shoot you but you gave me no choice."

The man raised bewildered eyes to look at him, lifting one hand as if to fend him off and then lowering it.

Feeling that it was safe because the man's claws had vanished, Philip pocketed the pistol and gingerly reached to tug the man's hand away from the bullet wound. "Who are you?" he asked as he lifted the hem of the shirt, which he suddenly realized was one of the ones stolen from him.

The man watched silently, not answering the question. He moaned aloud when Philip touched his side.

"I have to see if the bullet's still in there," Philip told him, putting a hand on the man's shoulder to ease him forward. He was somewhat relieved to discover a second hole even though it was also bleeding. That meant the bullet had gone straight through. "Don't move," he warned again, standing to look down at the man. "I need to find something to bandage you with until I can get you to the hospital."

Without waiting for an answer Philip inched his way into the dark cave. He suspected that more of his stolen clothes were there. The question was could he find them. Moving slowly he worked his way forward until his shoe hit something soft. Praying it was the clothes and not some remains of a dead animal, he reached down, sighing in relief when he felt material. Picking up two pieces that felt like shirts, not jeans, he hurried back to the man.

The man watched him, his eyes now so glazed with pain there was no room for any other emotion. As gently as he could, Philip pulled the shirt the man was wearing up high enough that he could work. He tore one of the shirts from the cave in half, folding the pieces up into thick squares, setting them on the man's legs for the moment. Then he ripped the other one into several strips, glad that it was an older one that came apart easily. Picking up one of the folded pads he put it over the entrance wound and then took the man's hand, putting it against it, telling him to hold it there. A puzzled frown creased the man's brow but he left his hand where Philip had put it.

Tying the strips of shirt together, Philip then put the second pad over the exit wound and quickly wound the makeshift wrapping around both pads tightly, praying that would at least help slow the bleeding.

Once he was finished, he checked the two places where Barnabas had bitten the man, surprised at how minor the wounds seemed to be. Finally he got up again, looking down at the man. He resisted the strong temptation to brush his hands through the man's dark blonde hair, although he could have used the excuse that he needed to get it off his face so he could check ...

 

Also available from:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07RG5VMKW

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dreams-memories-and-reality-edward-kendrick/1131426057?ean=9781634869300

Fear - 5

It was two days before Gene showed up at the garage, which surprised Shawn. Not the fact it took two days but the fact Gene had shown up at all, especially since he was on foot.

Gene went straight to Mr. Spitzer's office. Probably settling a bill or they're friends. Shawn turned back to the carburetor he was working on.

When Shawn felt a tap on his shoulder, he was startled enough he almost dropped the screwdriver he was holding. Turning, he saw Gene standing right behind him.

"Thought I'd see how you were doing," Gene told him with a smile. "Lose any more phones?"

"Umm, no, sir," Shawn replied shyly, staring off to the side rather than at the older man.

Gene chuckled. "Didn't figure you had." There was a long pause before he said, "I hear your 'friend' tried to beat you up."

Shawn swallowed hard. "He hit me, but only because he was angry and, umm, had had too much to drink and well, I deserved it sort of because I came back later than I should have. Than he expected."

"Shawn…" Gene sighed. "Look, no one deserves to be hit unless they start a fight, a physical one. Did he do that often?"

Finally looking at him, Shawn shook his head. "Not… not too often. Just when I did something he didn't approve of. Usually he was nice to me. He treated me pretty good." Feeling suddenly defensive, he said, "Why do you care anyway? You don't even know me."

"You're right, I don't. That doesn't mean I shouldn't care that you were being abused by someone."

"It wasn't abuse! He was just punishing me when I…"

"Did something he didn't approve of. I get that. Or rather I get that's what you think was going on. It was still abuse."

Angry now, Shawn turned away. "Just mind your own business, okay? He's gone now, so it's a dead issue."

"I'm sorry. You're right; it isn't any of my business."

Shawn heard him walk away and sighed in relief. "It's not your business," he muttered. "It's not anyone's business."

Fear - 4

"Hi, I'm Gene. Well, Eugene, if you want to be technical, but Gene to everyone who knows me."

Shawn looked at the tall, dark-haired, slightly older man standing in the doorway to his room and nodded. He stepped aside then realized he should at least introduce himself so the man, Gene, would know he was at the right place.

"Shawn Mathews," he replied with a slight tilt of his head to invite him in.

Gene entered, taking a glance around before looking back at Shawn. Digging one hand into the pocket of his jeans, he handed Shawn his phone. "Nice place you have here," he commented with a smile when Shawn took it. "Sort of motel modern with a touch of 'who cares'."

Shawn smiled back shyly. "Thank you for finding this. And yeah, I guess it is, sort of, but it's all I can afford. Especially now."

"You in town on a job? I know there's a lot of construction up the highway a bit."

"No. I work at the local garage. My…a friend and I were sharing a larger room but he had to leave and so I moved into this one because it was cheaper and, well…" Shawn rattled out, wondering as he did why he was telling this man anything.

Gene snapped his fingers. "That's why you look sort of familiar. I saw you there when I brought my car in for a tune-up."

"Probably," Shawn agreed, wishing Gene would leave so he could shower and get ready for work. He still had an hour until he was due there, but the way he felt he suspected he'd need all of it just to start feeling human again. So he said, again, "Thank you for returning my phone," hoping Gene would get the message.

"Hey, not a problem. If you're like me, you probably have your whole life on the thing so it sucks when you lose it." Gene must have seen something in Shawn's face or body language because he added, "I'll get moving now. Places to go, things to do, as they say. Maybe I'll see you again…at the garage."

"Maybe. And thank—"

"I think two thanks are enough," Gene broke in with a laugh. "Until next time." With that he turned on his heel and left, closing the door behind him.

Fear - 3

"Mr. Mathews, Mr. Mathews…"

Shawn opened his eyes, shutting them instantly again the glare of sunlight coming in through the motel room window.

"Mr. Mathews, you have a phone call in my office." Ms Johnson rapped on the door. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah, I am now," he muttered, squinting against the light as he unsteadily stood up. "Yes, Ms Johnson, I am. I'll be right there."

Damn, I feel like shit. And why is someone calling me on the motel phone? Maybe it's Jared!

His pulse leapt then dropped when it occurred to him Jared would call on his cell phone. But still…

He dug into his pocket of his jeans, realizing two things as he did—he was still wearing them from last night and his phone wasn't there. "Shit, where the hell is it?"

He opened the door to see Ms Johnson already heading back to the office. Looking around, he saw his keys on the dresser, grabbed them, and followed her.

When he got to the office, she pointed to the phone, the handset lying on the countertop. "Hello," he said tentatively after picking it up.

"Shawn Mathews?" a voice he didn't recognize asked.

"Umm, yeah."

"Good. I found your phone on the floor, half under the bar at the Blue Devil. Luckily you had the motel number listed or I wouldn't have known to call here."

"Damn, thanks for, well, calling and umm…"

There was a low chuckle from the man. "I take it you didn't miss it until now?"

"No. Yeah, well—just a moment ago."

"You going to be there for a few minutes? I'm at home right now. Figured calling at two thirty in the morning probably wouldn't have done much good, knowing Ms Johnson. I'll bring it over."

"Trust me. I'm not going anywhere except back to my room."

There was another chuckle. "Had a few too many last night? Not that it's any of my business. I'll see you in a couple. What's the room number?"

"Two-ten, and thanks."

"No problem. Had that happen… Eh, never mind."

The man hung up and Shawn placed the receiver back in the cradle. Then, after thanking Ms Johnson, he returned to his room.

Fear - 2

Jared departed the morning after their fight, before Shawn was even awake. He left all Shawn's belongings behind, taking only his things and the truck, although it technically belonged to both of them. Shawn didn't blame him for that. Jared needed it for his work.

But that left him with no way to get around town except on foot.

"It's probably a good thing I'm not driving," he said to himself a week later as he barely managed to make it back to the motel and his room without ending up in the gutter along the main street of the small, mountain town.

He hadn't meant to go out drinking, not after having spent so much time with Jared and seeing the effects of liquor on his lover. Well, ex-lover now. Shawn felt torn between relief and anguish.

His buddies at the garage had insisted he join them and he was lonely. So lonely.

He'd promised himself he'd have just one drink, sip it slowly, and leave. But one led to two, and then another and another as the ache in his heart seemed to disappear under a swaddling of alcohol-induced euphoria. Still, despite that, he couldn't help but think of Jared.

Jared knew that he sometimes drank too much but he'd convinced himself he wasn't an alcoholic. Not the way people thought of one. He didn't need to drink, he insisted. Someone called it being a 'situational drinker', he'd explained to Shawn one time after a bad two days of drinking during which he'd abused Shawn before sobering up again. Shawn had to agree. Put Jared in the situation and he'd drink until he was ready to fall on his face and lose all self-control in the process.

Shawn supposed Jared had been lucky in a way. He'd never been in an accident, not a real one. Yeah he'd had a few near misses, like a week ago when he'd smacked the truck into a pylon in the parking lot at the bar.

"But that was just a pylon and it shouldn't have even been there," Jared had growled before turning his anger on Shawn.

I should have left him long ago. And now I'm paying for it. Shawn stared morosely in the bathroom mirror. His hazel-green eyes were blurry and bloodshot. His stomach roiled suddenly and he made it to the toilet just in time to empty everything he'd eaten and drunk into the bowl. Not that he'd eaten much. Most of what came out was dark brown liquid. He threw up several more times, until finally all that was left was greenish bile.

He staggered to his feet, rinsed out his mouth, and made it from the bathroom to the bed where he collapsed face down and passed out.

Fear – 1

(Note: This story first came out in 2013 from a now defunct publisher.  Trigger warning: it concerns abuse, physical and emotional, and the potential ramifications.)

"No, Jared, no! I'm sorry," Shawn cried out, staggering away from the vicious backhanded slap. Unable to defend himself against the much larger and very drunk man, he collapsed, whimpering, on to the bed in the motel room they called home at the moment. His whimpers turned to sobs as he tried to scoot his way across to the floor at the other side of bed. He needed to get the bed between him and his lover.

Jared was having none of that. He lunged, caught hold of Shawn's arm, and dragged him back, slamming him down on the center of the bed, holding him there with one hand, his other one fisted while he shouted, "I told you what would happen the next time you did that. You ignored me, so now you're reaping the consequences." The fist landed solidly on Shawn's shoulder as he tried to curl into a protective ball.

"I… Mr. Spitzer said…it was just going to be a bit of overtime because it was a rush job then I could go home."

"Yeah, right. Same song, different chorus. Where were you really?" Jared grabbed him again, pulling him to his feet, and raised his fist.

A loud knock on the motel room door, followed by, "Police. Open up," stopped Jared's intentions in mid-stride.

"Now what?" Jared growled as he went to open the door.

"Sir," the officer said, looking into the room but remaining on the walkway outside, "we had a report of shouts that sounded as if someone was in trouble." His glance landed on Shawn. "Are you all right, sir?"

Shawn sank back down on the edge of the bed, his mouth dry with fear. He licked his lips and tasted blood, ran the back of his hand over his mouth, looked at it and frowned. "I…" he managed to whisper, shaking his head.

"Do you need help? Did this man"—the office nodded at Jared—"do that to you?"

"Yes," Shawn mumbled. "I mean, no. I fell and…"

"Do you mind if I come in to check you out?"

"I'm okay. Honest. I just… right now I just want to get out of here."

The officer beckoned for Shawn to join him, saying, "If he hit you and you want to press charges…"

"No." Shawn staggered to his feet. "I just…"

Jared started toward him, stopping when the officer ordered him to remain where he was. "I was only going to help him," Jared protested, his voice slurring.

"Be that as it may, you're to stay clear of him." The officer waited, watching as Shawn made it from the bed to the door, before asking, "Do you have somewhere else you can go, sir?"

Shawn started to shake his head and thought better of it as it made him stumble into the edge of the doorframe. He peered past the officer to see white-haired Ms Johnson, the motel owner, standing a few feet away. "Can I…?" he managed to say.

Ms Johnson's mouth tightened even as she cast a look of pity at him. "I have a vacant room across the parking lot in the other building."

"Thank you," Shawn whispered. For a moment he glanced back to Jared, his heart dropping at the look of rage on his lover's face. Taking a deep breath, Shawn turned and walked away, following Ms Johnson when she crossed the lot.

She told him to wait by the door, left, and came back a minute later to hand him the room key. "I don't care how much he had to drink or how often he comes back the way he is right now, he has no right to hit you," she said acerbically, casting a dire look in Jared's direction.

The police officer joined them, asking again if Shawn was certain he didn't want to press charges.

Shawn carefully shook his head. "I asked for it," he muttered before thanking Ms Johnson and unlocking the room door.

"No one asks to be hit," Ms Johnson growled, receiving an emphatic nod of agreement from the officer. "As far as I'm concerned, he's out of here."

"No. Please. I'll… I'll get my things in the morning and leave. It wasn't his fault. I was late and… Please…" He looked pleadingly at her.

She sighed. "All right, for now. But come morning, if you change your mind, I'll kick him out." She turned to the officer. "And I'm calling you to come back me up if that happens."

"Call me either way. If Mr.…" He looked questioningly at Shawn.

"Shawn Mathews," Shawn muttered.

"If Mr. Mathews" the officer continued, focusing his gaze back on Ms Johnson, "decides to get his things, I want to be here, just in case. Understood?" He looked sternly at them both.

"Yes, sir," Shawn said, backing into the room, hoping they'd go and leave him alone now.

They did, and as they walked away, Shawn heard Ms Johnson say, "He didn't deserve to be hit. He's the one who should be doing the hitting, as often as the boyfriend comes back here drunk as a skunk."

Shawn closed the door quickly, locked it, and crossed to the bed falling back on it. I did deserve it. I asked for it. I should have called to let him know I'd be late. And now I have to face the consequences… again.

Safe Harbor - 46

"I…you…"

Bobby grinned. "I think it should be ‘me, you’ to be grammatically correct."

Kurt couldn’t hold back a laugh. "You are stone ass crazy."

"Speaking of asses…" Bobby looked questioningly at him. When Kurt turned away Bobby said softly, "I’m a switch. I suppose that goes without saying all things considered, so if you want to top. Or if you don’t want to do either…" He ran his hand slowly up Kurt’s shaft, his thumb teasing his leaking slit, "I have another condom so we can just suck each other off."

Kurt shivered with need even as distress limned his face. "But that wouldn’t be fair to you."

"Umm, right now all I can think about is wanting to come. How is fairly immaterial." Without waiting for Kurt to reply Bobby took out another condom. With a grin he straddled Kurt, using his mouth to roll it on before taking his shaft into his mouth.

Being a smart man, and with Bobby’s cock at exactly the right place now, Kurt put his hands on his hips to pull him closer and soon was giving as good as he was getting from Bobby’s very talented mouth.

Kurt came first, but only by seconds. If their mouths hadn’t been otherwise occupied they would both have shouted as their orgasms consumed them.

Which probably would have scared the hell out of anyone within ear shot, Kurt thought, when he was able to actually think again.

Bobby pulled free, rolling off Kurt and turning in one smooth motion to wrap his arms around him. "Not too bad, for our first time," he said with a straight face.

"It was pretty spectacular, even if I did wimp out."

"You did not ‘wimp out’. Besides we have plenty of time to do anything and everything. At least I hope we do."

Kurt took Bobby’s face in his hands. "All the time in the world," he said softly.

A kiss was Bobby’s reply, gentle and caring and full of hope for their future. Kurt took and returned it in the same manner. Then as they broke apart he yawned.

"You didn’t!" Bobby laughed uproariously.

Kurt started to reply, laughed instead, then yawned again. "We should probably get back before I fall asleep right here."

"Or sleep here and go back in the morning. You have to see the city when the sun comes up. It’s wonderful."

Kurt considered the idea for a moment. "I’d like to."

So he did see it, after which they made love again. Slow, gentle love which held the promise of much more to come.

The End