Chapter 14

We danced to four tunes before we returned to the table. By then I'd got the hang of it enough to lead properly, and the smile didn't leave Arthur's face the whole time. He looked genuinely happy and that didn't happen often. It made it worth me feeling like a fool on the dance floor at the start.

I finished my beer at the table and held his hand. We stayed another hour and danced some more. The tunes were faster, and Arthur taught me some different steps. We left about eleven o'clock and walked down the street towards the alley. I heard footsteps behind us a second before someone shouted out; "Fucking fags!"

Arthur's smile vanished and his shoulders hunched as we carried on walking. "Take no notice," I told him.

"Your sort should be stoned to death!" another voice called out.

The first one added, "Or shot. Filthy pigs, fucking each other's shitholes!"

We turned into the alley. Instinct almost had me turning around to confront them, but I didn't want a fight. I didn't want Arthur to potentially get hurt. But the thugs weren't giving up and followed us towards the car. I opened the passenger door for Arthur.

"Hey! We're talking to you." One of the thugs came closer. He had a knife in his hand—a switchblade—and a cold fist formed in my stomach. So, this was the type of treatment I'd have to deal with if I wanted to be with Arthur. This was what he'd already had to put up with, even without being with someone.

I slipped my hand to my back under my jacket to get my gun. It took me a moment to register that I'd felt it being tugged free of my waistband a second ago. The click of the safety coming off made me glance down. Arthur faced me, his arm under mine.

"Fuck," I muttered. I flinched as he fired, and the thug behind me howled as he crashed to the ground. "Arthur, give that to me."

He raised an eyebrow and grinned, cocky again, but pulled his arm back and offered me the gun. I turned, just in time to see the second guy charging me with his own knife. Another couple of seconds and it would have been embedded in my back. I pulled the trigger and hit him in the stomach. He fell, screaming, beside his pal. It would only be a matter of time before the cops came. On a quiet Sunday night in particular, gunshots would draw a lot of attention.

I fired again—twice in quick succession. Our attackers were silenced, and Arthur was laughing. "That sure shut them up!"

"Arthur, get in the car." I ran around to the driver's side and got behind the wheel. I started the engine, while Arthur continued to laugh, arms outstretched in that pose I remembered from when he danced on the cop car. "Get in the car, Arthur!" I bellowed.

In a second, he was in the seat beside me. I slammed my foot down and we rocketed to the other end of the alley. In moments, we were well away, halfway home. Arthur continued to laugh.

"That was so fucking funny! You didn't see his face; you were looking at me. He had this look of disgust. You know, thinking about what we might be doing later, and then the bullet hit him and his expression changed to, 'Oh my God, he shot me!' I wish I had a photograph." He bent double, his laughter filling the car.

"Jesus, Arthur." My heart raced, and I repeatedly glanced in my mirrors to check we weren't being chased by cops.

"You don't think it was funny? Those guys wanted to hurt us. They probably hang around that club waiting for people like us to come out. Men who just want to enjoy being together. They wanted to ruin it. They wanted us bleeding and dying in that alley, because they think we deserved it, just for being different. They wanted us dead so they could laugh at the filthy fags lying in the dirt. Well, we're the ones laughing now. They got what they deserved." He stopped talking and more peals of laughter almost deafened me.

"All right, Arthur. Take it easy. They got what they deserved; you're right."

A few minutes later, I parked the car and we headed up to the apartment. Arthur had stopped laughing, but the grin on his face was as manic as the one he'd emphasised with blood that night I first saw him. His eyes sparkled, and he bounded up the stairs in front of me.

The moment we got inside, he slammed the door closed, grabbed me by the shoulders, and pushed me back against it. "I've been wanting to do this all night." His lips met mine, and he groaned with pleasure as our tongues met.

The adrenalin still pumping through me, and the sudden passionate kiss had my blood rushing south. I slid my arms around Arthur and kissed him back, as he pressed his body against mine and let me feel his erection.

I'd thought about what might happen when we got back from the club. I'd imagined us kissing, taking off our clothes, touching, both a little hesitant, wondering how far things would go. I hadn't predicted Arthur being in such a rush, but he wasn't his usual self, of course. He was Joker without the face paint, and he couldn't wait.

As we kissed and ground against each other, he fumbled with his clothes, somehow managing to shed his jacket, waistcoat, and shoes, and my jacket, without our lips separating once. He plucked the gun from my waistband and dropped it somewhere, then began to unfasten my shirt. Finally, he broke the kiss so he could attack my belt buckle.

"We've got all night," I said breathlessly. "We don't have to rush this."

"I want it." He turned his attention to his own belt, deftly unbuckling, unzipping, and shoving both trousers and underwear down his thighs. His erection slapped against the bottom of his shirt. "I want you so bad. I don't want to wait."

"Arthur, I want you, too, but I don't want to go so fast we don't notice what we're doing." I finished unfastening my shirt and shrugged it off.

"I want you to fuck me, Travis. I'm ready." Arthur backed away, tossed his shirt aside, kicked his trousers and underwear off, and lifted one foot to pull off his sock. His eyes sparkled as he looked up at me, and his lips, red from our kisses, stretched into a wide smile again. "Please don't make me wait."

"Unfold the bed." My dick ached, despite my reservations, and I finished undressing while he folded out the bed, put a sheet on it, and placed the cushions we used as pillows, on top. I found the lube and put it on the cabinet beside the bed.

Arthur stretched out on the bed, one knee raised and his legs slightly apart. His dick lay hard and glistening against his stomach, and he idly stroked his chest with one hand. He looked sexy, and suddenly I was as eager as he was. I'd never done this—not like this anyway. Not with a man, and not with someone who wanted me this much. I lay down beside him and pulled him into my arms. He draped one leg over my hip and pressed himself close, his erection sliding against mine. I had to remind myself it was his first time. He seemed so confident, and so eager. I remembered what I'd seen in the video as I coated my fingers in lube and reached down. I had to take my time, no matter how desperate he was. No matter how desperate I was.

Arthur squirmed and sighed as I stroked the tip of one finger down the crack of his arse and brushed his anus. I circled it and he twitched and shivered. When I gently pressed in, grasping heat closed around my finger to the knuckle, and I hissed out a breath of pleasure. What that would feel like on my dick. Jesus Christ.

Arthur slid his hand between us and curled his fingers around my shaft, giving me some much-needed friction as I added a second finger to stretch him. His eyes darkened and the smile on his face slipped a little. I leaned in and caressed his lips with mine. He closed his eyes and melted into it, his body relaxing in my arms. I withdrew my fingers, pushed his hand off me, and reached for the lube again. This was it. I was about to be inside him.

I rolled us over, my knees between his. I hadn't thought about what position would be best. There had been several in the video, but the missionary was the one I was used to. I guided his knees up either side of me, and grasped my dick, ready to push it into him. I nudged him, behind his balls, and slid farther back. Right there.

Arthur's eyes flew wide open and he sucked in a breath, his whole body suddenly frozen beneath me. I stopped, my tip pressed up against his hole, not inside, just resting there. Damn, I wanted to thrust in so bad it hurt, but something was suddenly wrong.

"Arthur?" I kissed his jaw. "Look at me."

He began pushing at my chest, struggling to get me off him. "No, no, I can't. Don't. Don't! Stop! Get off me!"

I rolled off immediately and sat up, my erection shrinking.

Arthur sat up, screeches of laughter bursting from him. He dragged his fingers through his hair, slid off the bed, and began to pace in the small area between the door and the kitchen counter. His dick was already soft, his face agonised. His laughter became louder and more hysterical. Strands of hair came out, tangled around his fingers, and he clawed at the sides of his face.

"Jesus, Arthur." I leapt up, not sure whether to grab him or if it would upset him more. I found my trousers and put them on. "Arthur, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. Everything's all right."

"It's not all right! It's not! Everything's wrong!" The words burst out of him amongst more laughter, causing him to gasp and choke.

"Shut up!" a distant voice bellowed from one of the other rooms.

Arthur laughed more, then walked to the door and smashed his forehead into it. He did it twice more before I reached him.

"Stop. Arthur, look at me." I turned him carefully and grasped his wrists. "You're going to hurt yourself. Look at me. I'm not gonna do anything. You're okay."

His eyes were wild and unfocused, his breathing harsh and uneven. His chest heaved as he sucked in air, but the laughing stopped. Then tears spilled from his eyes and he tugged against my hold, trying to turn away. I let go. He crawled into the middle of the bed and curled up, wrapped his arms around himself, and sobbed.

Shit. I had no idea what to do. I found the blanket we used on the bed and covered him up, then sat beside him, lightly resting my hand on his shaking shoulder. What had gone wrong? I went over the events of the last few minutes. He had instigated everything, but I went along with it. I hadn't made much effort to slow things down. He'd never done it before, and he obviously panicked at the last minute. But I sensed there was more to this.

I wished I knew more. I wished I knew what to say. If only I was better at talking to people about anything other than superficial stuff. How could I help him?

His sobs reduced to sniffles. "I'm s-sorry," he whimpered. "I spoiled it. I spoiled everything."

"No, you didn't, Arthur. Everything's fine." I gently rubbed his back. "I think we rushed things. It doesn't matter."

"It does matter. I wanted tonight to be perfect." He turned his head and looked up at me. "I thought it would be okay. I wanted it so much. You should leave. Find somebody else. Somebody normal. Somebody without all my problems."

"That's not happening, Arthur. I'm not going anywhere." I found one of his hands and squeezed it. "I don't want anybody else, so don't think that."

"Then there are some things I need to tell you."

"Okay. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?" Apparently, I was going to have to get good at this, and quickly.

Arthur gulped and his gaze slid away from mine. "I thought it was in the past. Forgotten. I didn't even remember any of it until I read my file from Arkham."

"When was this?"

"A little while before—" He rubbed a hand over his face. "Before everything happened. You know, before that night. Before I killed Penny."

"What happened, Arthur?" I asked softly, suddenly terrified.

"I was, um, I was—" He stopped again and more tears spilled over. "I was abused," he whispered.

"What are you saying?" I whispered back. My heart was in my mouth and I felt sick. I knew what he was going to say.

"I was raped."