Miss Becky beta-read the original on this, but I'm the one responsible for this edited version.
Secrets
by Melody Wilde
Part 5
"You...you tried to get me drunk." Not just tried—about halfway succeeded. Oh shit! What was I thinking. Well, that's an easy one. I wasn't thinking. I was just ranting on mindlessly to the first person who's ever really listened.
"No, my friend. Not drunk," Bain corrected gently. "Only a little mellow. Perhaps it was not the best of ideas, but I thought the wine might help you relax. That it might make this a little easier for you when we—"
"No!" Mort was surprised at how firm his voice sounded. "Absolutely not. If you think we're going to... No. I'm not going to let you." He shook off Bain's hand, jerking away, trying to get his feet under him, to stand, to run, to...something.
He didn't see Bain move, but suddenly a gun—the very big gun, the very dangerous and deadly looking gun—was pointing at him. He froze."Mort." Bain shook his head. He leaned forward again and casually placed the end of the barrel beneath Mort's chin, lifting it upward. "You are going to let me. You are going to let me do whatever I want. Anything that I want, and everything that I want."
He's right. I will. Because I don't want to die. And I don't care what he says about us being buddies or what I was starting to think about him...us...being friends... Right now I believe he would kill me, without a second thought. Oh, he might regret it later, but by then it would be a little too late for ol' Mort, wouldn't it?
"If you cooperate with me—if you do not fight me—I promise that you will enjoy this as much as I do. That before we are through, you will want the same things I do."
No, I don't think so. Maybe if there had been more time...if this weren't happening so fast and so...stop it! What the hell am I thinking?
"Before we begin, I am going to explain the rules to you."
Oh great. Rules. I have to remember rules? Shit. I didn't know there were rules for rape. We don't need no stinkin' rules. Oh fuck, why wine? Why didn't he bring in a bottle of Jack Daniels so I could be really drunk instead of just a little tipsy right now? So I could just pass out and wake up when everything's over and...
"Mort!" The gunsight was digging painfully into the bottom of his chin. "It is very important to both of us that you listen to me now. Do not go wandering off in your mind. You must pay attention. Are you listening?"
"Yes," he croaked.
"Good." Bain lowered the gun. "The first rule is this. Do as I tell you. Follow my instructions, whatever I tell you to do. The second rule is: Do not fight me. If you fight me..." He lifted a shoulder. "There is the danger that I may lose control of my temper, and I will not be responsible for what I do then."
He paused. Mort nodded to signify understanding, and he went on. "The next rule is: Do not try to grab this gun. You are not as fast as I am. Believe me. I will get it first, and then we will be back to the hurting."
Bain's free hand came up to skim across along Mort's cheek. He hooked a fingertip under the edge of the wire-rimmed glasses and carefully pulled them off, setting them on the coffee table. When Mort made an involuntary movement, Bain murmured, "You will not need those any more tonight."
No. I guess I won't.
Bain's face was very close to his. "Understand me, Mort Rainey. We are going to do this, and we are going to do it now. I would prefer it if you would let me seduce you, so that you can share in the pleasure. But if you do not...it is the same for me. Now stand up."
Between the wine and the fear, he almost couldn't. Bain had to help him, pulling him to his feet and steadying him. "Good, good." Bain tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans and caught Mort's face between his hands. "Open your mouth."
Follow orders, don't fight. Follow orders, don't fight. Follow...
He closed his eyes, let his lips fall open, and waited.
At first, it wasn't so bad. Surprisingly soft lips brushing across his, lifting, coming back from a different direction, a flicker of tonguetip, a warm breath. Just as he was thinking about leaning into the kiss, it changed, losing any hint of gentleness. Bain's mouth took his, hungrily, possessively, tongue and teeth ravishing, devouring, thrusting, nibbling, sucking the life from his body.
Big Bad Wolf. He's going to swallow me up. I can't breathe...oh god, I can't breathe...
Bain's attention shifted to the rest of his face, chin, cheeks, eyes, a moist exploration that ended with another assault upon his lips. Dizzy...so dizzy. Shit. He was spinning, moving, out of control, going to fall...
He forced his eyes open to see that he was moving, that Bain had turned him and was herding him backwards. He hit the wall with a force that drove the remaining breath from his body. Stop, stop, please...he has to stop sometime, has to let me breathe before I faint again.
Bain's body was molding itself to his, grinding against him, immobilizing him. The gun dug painfully into his belly. Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? Don't get hysterical, Mort. Be calm. Maybe it won't be so bad...maybe it wouldn't be if I weren't scared shitless. Maybe if I just do what he says and don't fight him, maybe it won't hurt much. Maybe...
"Have you ever been made love to another man?"His attention snapped back to the face a heartbeat from his own. "Wh...what?"
"This is an easy question. How do you not understand it?" Bain chuckled. "Have you ever had a homosexual relationship?"
Mort felt as if the blood were rushing to his face in embarrassment, then, just as quickly, flowing away. He shook his head.
Bain nodded and stepped back. "Then I will be the first for you. I will try to be gentle." He waved Mort away from the wall and pointed to the steps. "After you."
He's going to be the first... Don't fight. Don't fight.
He was at the top of the stairs, turning toward the bedroom, moving with feet that felt as if they were trapped in quicksand. Bain guided him inside, and he heard the click of the lock again.
"Good. You are doing well." Bain seated himself on the edge of the bed. "Strip."
Mort started. "What?"
"Strip. Take off your clothing. I want to look at you. I want to touch you."
Strip. Follow orders. He wants to look at me. Do as he tells me. He wants to touch me. Don't fight.
His hands were shaking so badly that he could barely unbutton his shirt. He pulled it off and looked around stupidly for the chair that he normally draped his clothing across at night.
"Put it on the floor."
He dropped the shirt and reached for the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it up, over his head, and off. He let that fall to the floor too, then stood there, staring down at the clothing.
Don't think. Go on. You can do it. Just undress. You do it every night. Follow orders. Don't think.
He managed to work loose the heavy button on his jeans and push down the zipper, but then his hands refused to co-operate further. "I can't," he whispered.
"I understand. This is difficult for you. It always is, the first time." Bain rose, circling to stand behind him. "Let me help you."
Bain placed his hands on Mort's waist, slid them forward, teasingly, then tucked them inside the waistband. "It is easy. See?" He began to slide the denim downward, moving with excruciating slowness. When the top of the jeans cleared Mort's hips, Bain's fingers tiptoed sideways. "I want to touch you again, the way I did this morning."
This morning. Oh there's a memory I don't want to...Ah! Oh jeez, that almost feels good...
Bain's fingers were gently grasping, tightening ever so slightly, moving. "I would like to see him hard."
Me too. Anything to please you, but... Oh shit...sorry sorry sorry, it's not going to happen. I've had too much wine and I'm too fucking scared.
Bain was persistent, pushing the shorts down after the jeans, slipping his hands up and down the front of Mort's body, cupping and stroking and kneading and tweaking, as he suckled on the side of Mort's neck. Through it all, Mort's body remained stubbornly unresponsive. Not even a twitch. Oh god, I hope he doesn't consider this not following orders.
At last Bain released him and stepped away. "All right. It is not to be this time."
This time?Bain moved across the room, casually shedding his own clothing as he went. "Finish undressing."
Shoes, then the jeans off with the socks. Mort brought his hands forward to cover himself—a little late with that, aren't we, since he's already seen it all...and felt it all—feeling more naked than he ever had in his life.
"Get on the bed."
Don't think. He put one knee on the bed, then lifted the other to join it.
"Please...please don't hurt me...oh god...please..."
Bain turned toward him. The assassin's eyes had gone almost black. "Do I need to bring the gun to bed and hold it against your head while I do this?"
And have him lose control and his finger tightens on the trigger and...a fate worse than death?...no...there are worse things than what he's going to do to me.
"No." Mort closed his eyes and let one hand creep forward to wrap around the metal rail of the headboard, clutching it as if it were a lifeline to sanity. I've never felt so...so vulnerable...so exposed...in my life. Oh god oh god.
"Now relax."
Mort ducked his head and tried to make everything go away...
Consciousness returned slowly. I must've passed out. No...I don't want to wake up. Don't make me go back. Please...
The pain seized him, jerking him awake. He was alone, sprawled face-down on his bed like a broken and discarded toy, hurting in too many ways to count. He moaned, and suddenly Bain was at his side, showered and dressed and glowing with health and happiness.
"That was...beyond words." He tousled Mort's hair. "You are all I imagined in my fantasies, and more."
Peachy.
"I wish it had been as good for you, my friend. Perhaps next time."
That "next time" business again. There's not going to be a next time. As soon as I can move, I'm going to...to...
Bain patted Mort's shoulder. "I think you will probably want to lie here for a while, so I will let you rest."
Rest. No way. The second you're out that door, I'm going to get up and go throw myself out the window and pray to god that the fall kills me.
He waited until the sound of Bain's footsteps had faded, then flattened his hands against the bed to push himself up. The pain sent him back down immediately. He was disgusted to realize he was crying, the tears slipping down his cheeks. It's not just the pain. It's... Dammit, I liked him. I thought we could be friends...I thought...I might even have...in time. But he used me. He hurt me...and there wasn't anything I could do to stop him...and he says he's going to do it again...
"Looks like you've had yourself a bad day, Mr. Rainey."
He started at the sound of the voice, a voice he recognized even after all this time, a voice he'd recognize anywhere. John Shooter was beside the bed, squatting on his haunches, hat tipped back, shaking his head as his gaze moved down Mort's body.
"How...where did you come from?"
"Same place as last time. I ain't moved. You sure are a mess. I bet that hurts like a sumbitch."
"How did you get in?"
"Why, I just walked up the steps and in the front door."
"What...what do you want?"
A slow smile spread across Shooter's face. "To watch. I come here to watch, Mr. Rainey. I come here to watch what he was going to do to you."
"Help me." I can't believe I'm asking him for help. Or how pathetic I sound.
"Now how do you 'spect I could do that? You want me to go kill him like you had me kill your pretty little wife and her boyfriend?"
What are you talking about? I didn't have you kill them. They're not dead.
"'Cause I'm afraid I can't do that. I think Mr. Bain would be a mite more trouble than a little gal and a man what's been blindsided by a shovel. Besides, what's in it for me?"
"I'll..." What? What could I offer him—what does he want?
Shooter's head moved slowly from side to side. "Nothin', that's what. There ain't nothin' you got to offer me." He rose and touched the brim of his hat with a hand. "Been nice talkin' to you again. You better rest up, now, 'cause he's gonna be back up here pretty soon."
"Don't. Please don't leave me here alone with him."
"I wouldn't be raisin' my voice like that if I was you, Mr. Rainey. 'Less you want him to come up here even quicker."
Mort closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, Shooter was gone.
I'm hallucinating. Dreaming. He wasn't really here. I'm just...I wonder if I'm dying. Oh god.
Mort put his head back down and clenched his fists and wished he could pass out again.