It wasn't often that Noah gave over to Luke in the bedroom, but lately Luke seemed to need it; like he was venting all of his frustrations over the things he couldn't change.
They'd remained at the farm for far longer than either of them originally planned too. Both of them felt safe there; protected and cocooned in the warm support of their family.
Noah groaned, eyes squeezed shut, head tilting back; and felt himself pulse as Luke thrust particularly deeply, "God Luke!"
His fingernails scrapped along the headboard as Luke paused, buried, and kissed a soft path up Noah's exposed, straining neck; quickly reaching his lips and twirling his tongue inside. Luke's lips were warm. The sensation of sucking, the subtle pulling on the plump flesh of Noah's lower lip was hypnotic.
"Mmmm," Noah purred, relishing the feeling of fullness; completeness.
He dropped his arms to grasped Luke's head between his hands, interlacing his fingers through soft blonde locks. Luke's lovely mouth curved with satisfaction at the evidence of Noah's obvious enjoyment.
Luke moaned in response, his inner mouth vibrating against Noah's tongue. Noah knew it wouldn't be long now; especially as their eyes met and that usual exchange of energy occurred.
His breath hitched loudly as Luke withdrew and slammed back in; a movement Noah rewarded with a loud scream that Luke had to muffle into whimpers with his palm.
"Shh…" he huffed through heavy almost giggly breaths, "Shh… you'll… wake… whole… farmhouse…"
Noah nodded and laughed slightly, nibbling on Luke's fingers before pulling him down for another kiss; this one slow and tender. Noah was swept up in a riot of emotions that only came from Luke; the muscles of his inner thighs tensed as his climax continued to build.
"You close?" Luke licked into his ear, hand wondering south to check.
Waves of sweet submission made him arch up at Luke's touch; the simple gesture sending him over; gripping once more at tufts of Luke's hair.
For Luke it took only two more strong thrusts before he joined his husband in a sweaty entanglement.
Luke laughed with satisfaction into Noah's chest, "I'm loving these long mornings with you!"
"Mmm hmm." Noah agreed drowsily; nose inhaling Luke's distinctive scent, making him smile contently. "Sometimes insomnia has its advantages."
Luke lifted up on his elbows, "You know I never meant for you to go through…"
"I know."
Thank you."
Noah opened his eyes and laced his fingers through Luke's bangs for the umpteenth time that morning.
"Thank you for forgiving me."
"You knew I would."
"Maybe. But that doesn't mean what I did to you was okay and I want you to understand that I know it."
"I really hope so."
Luke was about to reply when his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
"Noooo…." Noah moaned, pulling at the blonde to hold him back from getting it. "Leave it, please?"
Their extended stay on the farm, though great, had been far from a holiday. Jenna arrived in Oakdale two days after their return. She and Luke were busier than ever working on his story for the paper and once that was complete, setting up future interviews with various news agencies and television studios.
Jenna kept her ear to the ground and as soon as she received word that Laarman was back in the States; they gave Jarvis the okay for the L.A. Times to print Luke's heartfelt article.
After that all hell broke lose; with other newspapers clambering for the story.
Perhaps this was another good reason for staying hidden at the farm.
"Bubby, the call might be important." Luke leaned up on his elbow looking serious, "With everything going on…"
Noah sighed and relented but found himself suddenly extremely interested in the phone call with Jenna when Luke exclaimed loudly, "Really? When?"
"What is it?" Noah asked as soon as Luke hung up.
Luke's mouth twisted into a wide grin.
...
He was disgraced.
His reputation, even amongst his most loyal supporters, was destroyed; his wife gone, along with their children.
Everything he'd worked so hard for.
A moment of weakness caught on film and all his dreams shattered.
He seethed at the unfairness of it all.
No matter how many times he pleaded his case with the elders; explained how it wasn't him that day in the hotel room; explained how the demon took possession of his soul and steered him to act as he had; they would not listen. He was made to leave his people in Uganda, the people he had nurtured so well, and return to the vile polluted mists of America.
Branded evil because of that damn Luke Snyder and his newspaper article of lies, he couldn't even safely leave the confines of the ministry. Currently he relied heavily on the protection of his church and he wasn't sure how much longer that would last; especially if the glares from his peers were anything to go on.
Even his teacher, the man he respected above all men, had forsaken him.
Snyder's article made him out to be some kind of monster and he couldn't understand.
Why didn't people see that his motives were for good?
It wasn't a man he killed that day anyway. It was just another demon!
Why couldn't people understand what it took for him to fight his own demon within?
Every day he had to fight so he didn't turn into one of them! And most of the time he was successful. He should be praised for that not slandered!
Why could they not forgive him this one transgression?
But by far the worst part of all this for Simon Laarman was that he had failed God.
His loving God chose him especially! Sent him a Christian mission. God asked him to clean the world of this evil.
Simon failed.
Finished praying for forgiveness he stood up from his kneeing position at the altar and made his way between the long rows of church pews.
He wondered what the elders would do with the information Luke Snyder sent them. He could only hope they didn't intend on handing him in to the authorities. He certainly knew he would not survive prison. He held out hope the church would protect its own reputation and keep things quiet.
He hung his head and wondered what fate would bring him next.
But as he stepped from the darkness of the church and out into the bright sunlight, fate decided to answer that question for him.
"Minister Simon Laarman?"
A large European looking man with gelled black hair and an orange tan stood at the bottom of the steep church steps.
Simon squinted, eyes adjusting to the light. He lifted his hand to create shade and see more clearly.
The man was impeccably dressed in a navy blue suit and dark grey dress shirt. He didn't appear like a thug and Simon was emboldened by that.
"Yes." Simon replied, "How may I help you?"
"I have been sent to deliver a message."
Simon frowned. He was starting to feel a little uncomfortable if he were honest; not helped by the gentleman's cold glare. Sixth sense was telling him to be cautious.
"A message?" He asked tentatively, "A message from whom?"
"The message is from Mr. Damian Grimaldi."
Simon wondered why that name sounded so familiar, "Yes?"
"He says - You mess with Damian Grimaldi's son, you mess with Damian Grimaldi."
His brain raced back to Uganda, to a time when he'd pulled up a biography on Luke Snyder. As horrified realisation dawned, he watched the man calmly reach inside his coat to remove a handgun complete with silencer.
This wasn't happening! This didn't happen! Not to him!
The breath Simon took echoed in his head as he spun on his heels and sprinted for his life back inside the church; seeking sanctum. He heard the pop as the man fired and felt the sting in his right shoulder; the impact of which flung him forward.
He fell, bathed in multiple colours from the stained glass window of Madonna with Child; his wide eyes lifted up to the altar and the large wooden cross that hung suspended there.
"But I'm not finished!" he told his God with indignation.
This was the last thing he thought before the second pop that split open the back of his head.
...
Luke would go all quiet and take on this faraway expression whenever they drove past Oakdale Memorial Hospital on their visits home. Noah knew he was thinking about Reid and he was okay with that.
It was true he still felt that small twang of regret when he thought about Luke's relationship with the talented brain surgeon. Jealousy and possession were strong emotions. He didn't think they would ever fully leave him.
But Noah could allow Luke to experience his own feelings in that department without letting it bother him as much as it once would have.
When all was said and done, Luke never stopped loving him. That was the most important thing as far as Noah was concerned. That and the fact they'd found their way back to each other regardless.
Whenever they were in Oakdale Luke never failed to visit Reid's memorial neurology wing and check on how much things had progressed since their last visit. He would also, Noah knew, meet up with Katie and together they would pay their respects at the stone that held half the doctor's ashes; sitting there sharing stories.
Noah never accompanied Luke on these visits.
For Noah the hospital was a place to be avoided; especially this particular hospital that held some of his worst memories.
But despite the usual sadness for Luke and the trepidation for Noah, today's hospital visit was definitely one neither would have missed for the world.
"Hey!" Tony's smile was broad across his emaciated face.
Noah had to hide his shock. Tony was barely recognisable from the broad strong boy he'd first met years ago.
"You up for a few visitors?" Luke asked from the doorway.
"You kidding? I can't watch any more daytime! I swear it's turning me into a zombie!"
"Wait! You weren't one before?" Luke laughed, leaning down toward the single hospital bed and giving his friend a warm hug.
Tony returned the hug before punching Luke playfully, "Asshole!"
They smiled fondly at one another for a moment before Luke said, "Man it's good to see your ugly mug!"
Tony broke their eye contact and sniffed back a tear, "It's great to see yours too. And you, Noah!"
Noah smiled at him, "It's been a long time Tony."
"Yeah it has. The last time I saw you was…"
"Cyndi Lauper!" All three announced simultaneously before breaking into shared laughter.
Tony coughed at the pain to his damaged ribcage, but still he grinned weakly. "It feels real good to be laughing."
"How are you, really?" Luke asked, more seriously this time.
"I've been better. And considering everything that went down before I found myself in Africa, that's saying something!"
"I'm so sorry," Luke said sadly, squeezing Tony's shoulder, "About Kizza. I had hoped he was still in the camp with you."
...
"What do we have?" Tony asked, bursting through the door and into the small makeshift operating room.
"8 year old male, multiple fractures, broken bones, nasty cut on the head."
"What happened?"
With help from one of the two nurses on duty, Tony lathered up and scrubbed at his hands in the nearby sink. It wasn't the best conditions to clean up in, but it was all they had.
"He was hit by a truck on the Port Bell Road." Kizza sighed as he lifted the boy's eyelids to shine a light inside them.
"Mutungo junction again?"
"The very same."
"Damn! When the hell is that Headmaster going to learn? The school playground is right there! They need to put up a safer fence to stop the kids running out of the grounds every time they kick a ball too far."
"I know it's frustrating for you Tony. But this is Africa. Things don't work like they do in America. It is sad but it is fact."
"Yeah!" Tony scoffed as he slid on his rubber gloves. "And we're the ones left picking up the pieces."
They spent five hours working on the child. It wasn't easy and they nearly lost him twice, but the boy was a fighter and eventually they managed to stabilize him.
"Good work partner!" Tony smiled, bumping playfully into Kizza as they both washed up at the sink.
"We do make a great team, don't we?" Kizza returned the smile and caught Tony's eyes with his soft chocolate ones.
Kizza had the most beautiful skin in the world; coffee brown and blemish free. Tony would have loved at that moment to run his water cooled hand down the other doctor's smooth arm, but Uganda didn't allow such displays of intimacy between men. And even if they did, it wasn't really appropriate in the workplace anyway.
As they exited the room they were bombarded with a large group of the boy's relatives all babbling at once in Swahili. Tony, whose own Swahili had greatly improved after months of living in Uganda with Kizza, spent a few moments with them. He explained the situation as best he could, whilst Kizza took the boy's mother aside to console her.
The boy was far from danger and still had a long fight ahead of him, but he had survived the surgery and that was a win in Tony's book.
Any survival under the conditions they had to work in was a win.
Exhausted they both escaped the waiting area and found refuge in the tiny break out room at the back of the clinic; an area Tony nicknamed 'The Closet.'
"Hello." Kizza grinned now they were alone. He pushed Tony backward against the row of lockers and kissed a trail up his neck.
"Hello Doctor. I have a boo-boo." Tony pulled off his best impression of a child's pout.
"You do? Where is this thing?" Kizza asked, standing back and examining Tony from toe to head. "You look perfect to me…"
Bottom lip still stuck firmly outward Tony lifted his forefinger and strummed at it.
"It is here?" Kizza asked in mock amazement, cocking his gorgeous head and moving in to examine the 'injured' lip more closely. "I do not see it."
"It's there Doctor!"
"Well, I do not see it!" Kizza exclaimed, "And if I do not see it how must I help you?"
Kizza's accent was one of the first things that drew Tony to the man. His voice was low and deep, sexy and sultry; authoritative and yet kind with a hint of gentle.
"You could kiss it better?" Tony suggested hopefully.
Kizza's smile was dazzling. That was another reason to fall head over heals in love with him. He stepped forward and locked lips firmly with Tony. Very quickly they were both on fire; hands seeking purchase and clawing for skin.
"Do you think we could swing the afternoon off?" Tony panted.
"After a five hour operation I think so…"
"Good!" Tony exclaimed as he bit down hard on Kizza's soft neck, "Because I'm about to explode if I don't get my full of you!"
Kizza laughed and reluctantly left Tony as he sought out the Chief of Staff to get the approval they needed to leave.
Both he and Kizza were volunteers at the hospital; their living expenses paid for by charitable organizations. However they were still subject to the usual rules of the workplace; a fact they respected.
"Are we free?" Tony asked like an excited puppy when Kizza reappeared.
The man headed straight for his locker in answer to Tony's question even as he said, "Yes."
They left the hospital together as they always did. In private they were a couple. They lived together and did all the things normal couples did. But as far as the public were concerned they were two best friends and work colleagues. Anything else was against the law and possibly punishable by death.
When they first arrived in Kampala, Tony was quick to speak out against the treatment of gay men and women; some of whom wound up bruised, beaten or dead on the hospital steps.
It didn't make him very popular with the authorities and he was questioned intensively about his loyalties. Kizza made him promise not to reveal his true self and Tony hated that.
Over the months he supported the gay community as much as possible; as was safe. But first and foremost, he and Kizza were in Uganda to help the children. That was their main purpose and he needed to focus on it and not let his personal issues with Ugandan law interfere.
As they crossed the main road and entered the quiet and deserted side alley they always used as a shortcut, Kizza looked adoringly over at him and Tony's heart melted. Briefly they allowed their fingers to trail together.
Tony couldn't have known it was the last loving look and touch he would ever receive from this man who changed his life; rescuing him from a cycle of alcohol abuse and self hatred by showing him a world in which he could feel useful..
The white van came out of nowhere; screeching to a holt across the alley exit. They didn't have time to think. They didn't even have time to comprehend what was happening. The sliding door opened and three burly policemen tumbled out, grabbing Kizza as they simultaneously slipped a sack bag over his head.
"Hey!" Tony screamed, moving instinctively forward to protect Kizza but being dragged back from behind by another two officers who must have followed them up the road. His hands were quickly cuffed as he was thrown forward into the van with Kizza.
They couldn't speak. Every time either of them opened their mouths they'd be slammed with the butt of a rifle. Eventually one of the men tied a gag through Tony's mouth.
Wherever they were going their captures were in a hurry to get there. Tony's arms were bruised as he bounced around in the back of the van; his tied hands unable to steady him.
Kizza was terrified. Tony could hear him sobbing through the bag but could do nothing to comfort him. He wondered why he'd not also been blindfolded. He wondered why they were there. What was happening?
He thought he knew the answer but that thought was too horrifying to contemplate. He racked his brain trying to think who could have betrayed them. Who could have seen them together and reported it to the police. But he didn't know.
They drove for hours before the car came to an abrupt stop. It was dark and stifling in the back of the van and a shock to the brain when the door flung open and the bright sunlight streamed inside.
Tony had to squeeze his eyes shut to protect them from the light and when he dared to open them again Kizza was gone. Realizing this he frantically crawled forward to see out the open doorway and was just in time to witness the gun raise and see the two puffs of cloth as the single bullet passed through the sack covering Kizza's head and out the other side.
Kizza's body dropped to the ground and there was silence; except for the frightened squawks from wild birds and the faint echo of the gunshot running across the open veld.
...
Tony shook his head of the memory, "I still don't know why they didn't just shoot me too. They shot Kizza on route to the camp. I swear… those first days after they killed him… I wanted to die so bad…"
"Well I for one am glad you didn't." There were tears in Luke's eyes.
"Me too actually." Tony looked up, "And that's because of Kizza. He's the only reason I kept fighting. He worked so hard to get me clean and help me finish my doctorate. I knew he wouldn't want me to give up."
"You're right." Luke agreed.
"And besides," Tony continued, "I had a cause to fight! I have a cause to fight!"
"Yes you do!" Luke smiled, "We all do now. I missed you, my friend."
Tony returned the smile, "Me too. But I see you managed just fine without me." Tony gave Noah a sly wink, "I'm really happy for you guys. I'm sorry I missed the wedding."
"I think you can be forgiven…" Noah assured him with a soft smile.
Tony reached out both his hands and Luke and Noah each took one from either side of the bed.
"Thank you." He whispered. "I read your article Luke and… if not for you guys…" his voice cracked.
"It was mostly Luke…" Noah replied, "He was so determined to help you."
"Your colleague Jenna was here to interview me." Tony informed Luke, "She told me you're starting up a new project with your foundation?"
Luke nodded, "Yes. It's clear we need to act. And fast! Before this thing becomes so ingrained it can't ever be changed."
"I'd like to be involved in that. If you'll let me."
"I'd love that." Luke agreed, "Your experiences will help get the support we need. Would you be willing to speak in public about the things you endured?"
Tony thought for a moment, the pain crossing his brow quickly replaced with determination, "If you can do it, then I can do it! Definitely."
"Okay then!" Luke grinned, "We're in business!"