Chapter 7: Stalling for time

Carlos waited, terrified, he didn't want to die, but he was ready to receive the blow that would separate him from his love forever. But nothing happened.

TK had rushed into the room when he heard him screaming in pain. When he had discovered Dylan ready to swing the baseball bat at the Latino's head, he hadn't questionned it and charged at the blonde. He dove at him, bringing them both to the ground. The impact made Dylan drop the bat. TK scrambled to retrieve it and hit his attacker over the head with it as he tried to get up. Dylan collapsed, his eyes closed and his head bleeding.

"Hey, Carlos," said the paramedic as he rushed to his lover. "We need to untie you. We've got to get out of here. Where are the keys to the handcuffs?"

"The handcuffs were in my uniform pocket, but I don't know where he put it."

TK looked around and quickly found the pants in question, but the pockets were empty. Given the mess in the room, he had little chance of finding them quickly. He then followed the rope that held the handcuffs to discover that it was tied at the foot of the bed by very complex and tight knots. He tried for a few moments to undo them, but they were too tight.

"I'll get some scissors, I'll be right back," he said to his man, shaking his hand.

"TK, I won't be able to walk, I'm pretty sure my legs are broken. Go alone, get help."

"I'm not leaving without you. We'll find a way."

T.K. hurried back to the bathroom, retrieved a pair of scissors and quickly returned to the bedroom. He knelt down in front of the bed and started to cut the rope.

"You're wasting time, go and call for help…"

Carlos didn't see how he could get out of the house. He couldn't walk, and Dylan could regain consciousness at any moment. He glanced at the stunned giant and was again overcome with fear. He was getting up.

"TK watch out!" the policeman shouted.

The rescuer turned around, scissors in hand, ready to defend himself. The blond melted on him. Without hesitating TK planted the scissors blindly in the body which crushed it against the wall, almost knocking it out on the spot. Carlos pulled on his bonds, praying that his lover had cut them enough to break them, without success.

Suddenly TK was lifted by Dylan. The blond trembling with rage threw him against the wall under the window as if he were a common rag doll. Threatening, he picked up a belt on the ground and walked towards the New Yorker. He was shaking with pain from the collision with the wall, his shoulder was hurting badly, but also with fear, he was like a wild animal frozen in front of the headlights of a car, unable to move. Dylan had the scissors stuck in his left arm and didn't even seem to feel them. The blood pouring from his head and arm made him look like he had just stepped out of a horror movie.

"TK run! Run!" screamed Carlos, terrified that this madman was advancing toward his man like this and frustrated that he couldn't do anything to help him.

With a sweep of his arm, Dylan slammed the belt down on the policeman's stomach, who screamed as he felt his skin rip.

"Shut up!" he yelled. "Shut up!"

The blond who had stopped, gave him a second blow, then a third and Carlos was screaming, his belly was burning, his skin tearing a little more with each blow.

On the third blow, TK snapped out of his shock and struggled to his feet, his shoulder throbbing, he had hardly slept in the last thirty hours, he had black spots in front of his eyes, but he couldn't do what Carlos had begged him to do and run away. He rushed to the baseball bat that was behind the blond man. He grabbed it with one hand and slammed it into Dylan's knees with all his strenght. Dylan fell to his knees and grunted. He turned back to T.K. and intercepted the second incoming bat. He took a swing at the improvised weapon and headbutted the rescuer, leaving him unable to react for a few seconds. Dylan took the opportunity to grab him by the throat and drag him into the closet.

Carlos, realizing that the beating had stopped, opened his eyes and tried to understand what was going on.

"No! Let him go!" he yelled as soon as his eyes fell on the scene in his closet.

Dylan had put the belt around TK's neck, tightening enough to partially deprive him of oxygen, but not enough to kill him. The rescuer reached for the scissors, but his assailant was faster than he was. He quickly grabbed his wrist and slammed his hand against the wall, forcing him to drop the weapon. Dylan then slapped T.K.'s face, which was only slightly less forceful than if he hadn't been injured and made the rescuer see stars as he struggled to breathe. However, he quickly regained his senses as he felt the leather pulling him up. Panicking, he placed both hands on the belt, trying unsuccessfully to unbuckle it, while Dylan tied the other end to the bar on the hangers, forcing TK to stand on his toes. He struggled to breathe, to keep his balance. Whenever he leaned to one side or the other, the leather would cut into his skin and make him suffocate. Doing his best to calm himself, reminding himself that the best thing to do in his situation was to breathe as slowly as possible, T.K. let go of the belt around his neck and put his hands on the walls of the closet to steady himself. Pain shot through him as he moved his injured arm, but then the air flowed a little easier, allowing him to reconnect to his surroundings. Carlos was still yelling at Dylan to let go of him, Dylan who had just put his hand on his ass over his boxers and moved his mouth against his ear.

"I'm going to kill your lover and then take back what's mine. You'll have no more excuses to deny yourself to me. I'm going to make you scream Liam. You'll regret cheating on me," he said in a threatening voice.

Terror flooded TK's heart, he wanted to do something to contradict the just stated prophecy, but he couldn't even speak. One of his hands went to work on the belt looking for the knot to untie, while the other kept him balanced.

Carlos shuddered as he saw their assailant, his arm and head bloody, coming back to him and stopped screaming. At least T.K. had a little breathing room he thought, the longer he held on, the better chance his lover would have of getting out.

"You took what was mine," Dylan growled. "You don't deserve a quick death..."

The policeman was almost relieved by this sentence. Of course he didn't want to suffer or die, but he wanted more than anything for T.K. to get out. He couldn't bear to get through it, to go on living if he didn't have the one he considered the man of his life by his side. He looked the man in the eye as he walked toward him, unable to stop his body from shaking with fear.

With a sadistic smile Dylan sat on his hips, pulling at the Latino's tanned skin and tearing a little more of the grooves on his stomach. With a sadistic grin, he placed his hands on either side of her head and leaned in to speak in her ear.

"He's going to watch you scream in pain, he's going to watch you die under my fists helplessly and once you're out of the equation I'll lay him right there next to your not-yet-cold body and make him scream. I'll punish him for cheating on me. I'll fuck him so hard he won't be able to sit down for a week."

Carlos struggled as best he could, but there was little he could do with his hands tied and his legs broken. Enraged to hear what he planned to do to them, he raised his head and bit the blonde's ear as hard as he could. He felt the metallic taste of blood invade his mouth, making him want to vomit, but he held on, clenching his jaw even tighter. Dylan above him raged, punching him in the ribs while grunting in pain. Carlos took it, not letting go of his grip, even tightening it with each blow he took. The blows rained down on him, cutting off his breath in pain, but he kept telling himself like a mantra that the longer he held Dylan with him, the more time and hope he offered T.K.. Finally, after a time difficult to estimate, his teeth came together and his attacker stood up, the left side of his face bloody, a piece of his ear missing. The vital liquid was flowing continuously from his wound, but it didn't seem to disturb him more than the wound on his arm. He brought the hand there and felt while fixing of a bad glance the policeman. As if to confirm to him that he had kept a piece of it, Carlos spat on him what he had in the mouth. The answer did not wait, Dylan struck him in the face, making him see stars. He didn't give him time to recover and hit him a second time under the desperate look of TK.