Iero's Mountain!

Though he was stunned by Frank's changed appearance, it took Clay only a moment to follow him. As he had suspected, Frank stopped his truck at the alley where Gerard had been attacked. By the time Clay parked the county car and entered the alley, Frank was down on one knee, examining the muddy ground. He didn't even glance up when Clay approached. Instead he continued his concentrated examination of every weed and bit of gravel, every scuff mark, every indentation.
Clay said.

"When did you get a haircut?"

"This morning. At the barbershop in Harpston."

"Why?"

"Because Gerard asked me to."

Frank said flatly, and returned his attention to the ground.
Slowly he moved down the alley and to the back of the buildings, pausing at the spot where Gerard's attacker had thrust him to the ground. Then he moved on, following exactly the path the attacker had taken, and it was in the next alley that he gave a grunt of satisfaction and knelt beside a blurred footprint.
Clay had been over the ground himself, and so had many other people. He said as much to Frank.

"That print could belong to anyone."

"No. It's made by a soft-soled shoe, not a boot."

After examining the print awhile longer, he said..

"He toes in slightly when he walks. I'd guess he weighs about one seventy-five, maybe one eighty. He isn't in very good shape. He was already tired when he got this far."

Clay felt uneasy. Some people would have simply passed off that kind of tracking ability as part of Frank's Indian heritage, but they would have been wrong. There were excellent trackers of wildlife who could follow a man's footsteps in the wilderness as easily as if he had wet paint on the bottoms of his boots, but the details Frank had discerned would have been noted only by someone who had been trained to hunt other men. Nor did he doubt what Frank had told him, because he had seen other men, though not many, who could track like that.

He already knew that, but suddenly it seemed far more significant. Frank was still examining the footprint.

"Yes. You?"

"Twenty-first Infantry. What outfit were you with?"

Frank looked up, and a very slight, unholy smile touched his lips.

"I was a LRRP."

Clay's uneasy feeling became a chill. The LRRPs, pronounced "lurp," were men on long-range reconnaissance patrol. Unlike the regular grunts, the LRRPs spent weeks in the jungles and hill country, living off the land, hunting and being hunted. They survived only by their wits and ability to fight, or to fade away into the shadows, whichever the situation demanded. Clay had seen them come in from the bush, lean and filthy, smelling like the wild animals they essentially were, with death in their eyes and their nerves so raw, so wary, that it was dangerous to touch them unexpectedly, or walk up to their backs. Sometimes they hadn't been able to bear the touch of another human being until their nerves settled down. A smart man walked lightly around a LRRP fresh in from the field.

What was in Frank's eyes now was cold and deadly, an anger so great Clay could only guess at its force, though he understood it. Frank smiled again, and in the calmest tone imaginable, one almost gentle, he said..

"He made a mistake."

"What was that?"

"He hurt my man."

"It's not your place to hunt him. It's a matter for the law."

"Then the law had better stay close to my heels."

Frank said, and walked away.
Clay stared after him, not even surprised by the blunt words claiming Gerard as his. The chill ran down his back again and he shivered. The town of Ruth had made a mistake in judging this man, but the rapist had made an even bigger one, one that might prove fatal.

Gerard stoically ignored all the protests and pleas when he announced his intention of driving home. They meant well, and he appreciated their concern, but he couldn't stay another moment. He was physically unharmed, and the doctor had said his headache would fade in the next few hours. He simply had to go home.
So he drove alone in the misting rain, his movements automatic. Afterward, he could never recall a moment of the drive. All he was aware of when he let himself into the creaky old house was a feeling of intense relief, and it so frightened him that he pushed it away. He couldn't afford to let himself relax, not now. Maybe later. Right now he had to hold himself together very tightly.

Jet looped around his ankles several times, meowing plaintively. Gerard stirred himself to feed him, though he was as fat as a butterball already, then found himself exhausted by that brief effort. He sat down at the table and folded his hands in his lap, holding himself motionless.
That was how Frank found him half an hour later, just as the grey daylight began to fade.

"Why didn't you wait for me?"

He asked from the doorway, his tone a low, gentle growl.

"I had to come home."

Gerard explained.

"I would have brought you."

"I know."

Frank sat down at the table beside him and took his cold, tightly clasped hands in his. Gerard looked at him steadily, and his heart clenched like a fist in his chest.
Frank would have given anything never to have seen that look in his eyes.

He had always been so indomitable, with his "damn the torpedoes" spirit. He was slight and delicately made, but in his own eyes he had been invincible. Because the very idea of defeat was foreign to him, he had blithely moved through life arranging it to suit himself and accepted it as only natural that shopkeepers quaked before his wagging finger. That attitude had sometimes irritated, but more often entranced, Frank. The kitten thought himself a tiger, and because he acted like a tiger, other people had given way.

He was no longer indomitable. A horrible vulnerability was in his eyes, and Frank knew he would never forget the moments when he had been helpless. That scum had hurt him, humiliated him, literally ground him into the dirt.

"Do you know what really horrified me?"

Gerard asked after a long silence.

"What?"

"That I wanted the first time to be with you, and he was going to—"

He stopped abruptly, unable to finish.

"But he didn't."

"No. He pulled down my pants and pushed against me, and he was tearing my clothes when Clay—I think Clay shouted. He might have fired a shot. I remember hearing a roaring sound, but I thought it was thunder."

His flat little monotone bothered Frank, and he realised Gerard was still in shock.

"I won't let him get near you again. I give you my word."

Gerard nodded, then closed his eyes.

"You're going to take a shower."

Frank said, urging him to his feet.

"A long, warm shower, and while you're taking it, I'll fix something for you to eat. What would you like?"

Gerard tried to think of something, but even the thought of food was repugnant.

"Just tea."

Frank walked upstairs with him; he was steady, but the steadiness seemed fragile, as if he were barely holding himself under control. Frank wished that he would cry, or yell, anything that would break the tension encasing him.

"I'll just get my pyjamas. You don't mind if I get my pyjamas, do you?"

Gerard looked anxious, as if afraid he was being too troublesome.

"No."

Frank started to reach out and touch him, to slide his arm around his waist, but dropped his hand before contact was made. He might not want anyone to touch him. A sick feeling grew in Frank as he realised he might find his, and any other man's, touch disgusting now.

Gerard got his pyjamas and stood docilely in the old-fashioned bathroom while Frank adjusted the water.

"I'll be downstairs."

He said as he straightened and stepped back.

"Leave the door unlocked."

"Why?"

Gerard's eyes were big and solemn.

"In case you faint, or need me."

"I won't faint."

He smiled a little. No, Mr. Gerard Arthur Way wouldn't faint; he wouldn't allow himself to be so weak. Maybe it wasn't tension holding him so straight; it might be the iron in his backbone.

Frank knew he wouldn't be able to coax Gerard to eat much, if anything, but he heated a can of soup anyway. His timing was perfect; the soup had just boiled and the tea finished steeping when Gerard entered the kitchen.

He hadn't thought to put on a robe; he wore only the pyjamas, a plain blue cotton pair. Frank felt himself begin to sweat, because as demure as the pyjamas were, he could still see the darkness of Gerard's nipples through the fabric. Frank swore silently as Gerard sat down at the table like an obedient child; now wasn't the time for lust. But telling himself that didn't stop it; Frank wanted him, under any circumstances.

Gerard ate the soup mechanically, without protest, and drank the tea, then thanked him for making it. Frank cleared the table and washed up the few dishes; when he turned, Gerard was still sitting at the table, his hands folded and his eyes staring at nothing. He froze briefly and muttered a curse. He couldn't bear it another minute. Swiftly he lifted Gerard out of the chair and sat down in it, then settled him on his lap.
Gerard was stiff in his arms for a moment; then a sigh filtered between his lips as he relaxed against his chest.

"I was so frightened."

He whispered.

"I know, honey."

"How can you know?"

He sounded faintly truculent.

"Yeah, but I was in prison, remember?"

He wondered if Gerard would know what he was talking about, and he saw his brow furrow as he thought.
Then he said..

"Oh."

He began scowling fiercely.

"If anyone hurt you—"

He began.
"Hold it! No, I wasn't attacked. I'm good at fighting, and everyone knew it."

He didn't tell Gerard how he'd established a reputation for himself.

"But it happened to other prisoners, and I knew it could happen to me, so I was always on guard."

He'd slept only in light naps, with a knife made from a sharpened spoon always in his hand; his cell had hidden a variety of weapons, a lot of which the guards had seen and not recognised for what they were. It would have taken another LRRP to have seen some of the things he'd done and the weapons he'd carried. Yeah, he'd been on guard.

"I'm glad."

Gerard said, then suddenly bent his head against Frank's throat and began to cry. Frank held him tightly, his fingers laced through his hair to press against his skull and hold him to his chest. Gerard's soft, slender body shook with sobs as he wound his arms around Frank's neck. Gerard didn't say anything else, and neither did he, but they didn't need words.
Frank cradled him until finally he sniffed and observed dazedly.

"I need to blow my nose."

Frank stretched to reach the napkin holder and plucked a napkin from it to place in his hands. Gerard blew his nose quietly, then sat still, searching in his depths for the best way to handle what had happened. He knew it could have been much worse, but it had been bad enough. Only one thought surfaced: he didn't want to be alone tonight. He hadn't been able to tolerate the women fussing around him, but if Frank would just stay with him, he'd be all right.
He looked up at Frank.

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

Every muscle in Frank's body tensed, but there was no way he could deny him.

"You know I will. I'll sleep on the—"

"No. I mean—if you could sleep with me tonight, and hold me so I won't be alone, just for tonight, I think I'll be all right tomorrow."

Frank hoped it would be that easy for him, but he doubted it. The memories would linger on, springing out from dark corners to catch him when he least expected it. Until the day he died, he would never entirely forget, and for that, Frank wanted to catch his assailant and break the guy's neck. Literally.

"I'll call Lucas and let him know where I am."

He said, and lifted Gerard from his lap.

It was still early, but his eyelids were drooping, and after Frank called Lucas, he decided there was no point in putting it off. He needed to be in bed.

Frank turned out the lights and put his arm around Gerard as they climbed the narrow stairs together. His flesh was warm and resilient beneath the thin cotton, and the feel of him made Frank's heart begin a slow, heavy beat. His jaw clenched as blood throbbed through his body, pooling in his groin. He was in for a miserable night, and he knew it.

Gerard's bedroom was so old-fashioned it looked turn-of-the-century, but he hadn't expected anything else. The delicate lilac smell he associated with Gerard was stronger up here. The ache in his loins intensified.

"I hope the bed is big enough for you."

Gerard said, worrying as he eyed the double bed.

"It'll do."

It wasn't big enough, but it would do. Frank would have to spend the night curled around him. His bottom would be nestled against him, and he would quietly go insane. Suddenly he didn't know if he could do it, if he could lie with Gerard all night and not take him. No matter what his mind said, his body knew exactly what it wanted; he was already so hard it was all he could do to keep from groaning.

"Which side do you want?"

What did it matter? Torment was torment, no matter what side he was on.

"The left."

Gerard nodded and turned back the covers. Frank wanted to look away as he climbed into bed, but his eyes wouldn't obey. He saw the curve of his buttocks as the pyjama pants were momentarily pulled tight. He saw his pale, slim ankles and immediately pictured them clasped around his waist. He saw his rosy nipples, and he remembered the feel them in his mouth, his smell and taste.
Abruptly Frank bent down and pulled the sheet up over him.

"I have to take a shower."

He saw the brief dart of fear at being alone in Gerard's eyes, but then he conquered it and said..

"The towels are in the closet next to the bathroom door."

Frank was swearing savagely to himself as he stood in the bathroom, jerking his clothes off. A cold shower wouldn't help; he'd had a lot of them lately, and the effect was remarkably short-lived. He needed Gerard—naked, beneath him, sheathing his swollen and throbbing flesh. He would be so tight that he wouldn't last a minute—

Damn. He couldn't leave him, not tonight. No matter what it cost him.

His entire body was aching as he stood under the warm, beating water. He couldn't crawl into bed with him like this. The last thing Gerard needed right now was to have him poking at him all night. He needed comfort, not lust. Not only that, Frank wasn't entirely certain of his control. He'd been too long without, and had wanted him for too long.
He couldn't leave him, but he couldn't go to him like this. He knew what he had to do, and his soapy hand slid down his body. At least this would give him some modicum of control, because he would rather slit his own throat than see that fear and vulnerability in Gerard's eyes again.

Gerard was lying very still when Frank rejoined him, and he didn't move as Frank turned out the light. It wasn't until his weight depressed the mattress that he shifted to lie on his side. Frank positioned himself on his side, too, and hooked an arm around his waist to pull him firmly back into the cradle of his body. Gerard sighed, and he felt the tension slowly ebb from his body as he relaxed against him.

"This is nice."

He whispered.

"You aren't afraid?"

"Of you? No. Never of you."

Gerard's tone was liquid with tenderness. He lifted his hand to reach back and cup Frank's jaw in his palm.

"I'll be all right in the morning, wait and see. I'm just too tired right now to deal with it. Will you hold me all night?"

"If you want me to."

"Please."

Frank brushed his hair to one side and pressed a kiss into the nape of his neck, delighting in the delicate little shiver that rippled through his body when he did so.

"My pleasure."

He said gently.

"Good night, sweetheart."

It was the storm that woke Gerard. It was barely dawn, the light still dim, though the black clouds contributed to the greyness. The storm was fierce, reminding him of the ferocious thunderstorms in the South. Lightning ripped the dark sky apart, and the booming thunder made the very air vibrate. He lazily counted the seconds between the lightning flashes and the thunder to see how far away the storm was: seven miles. But it was pouring rain, the sound loud on the old tin roof. It was wonderful.

He felt both acutely alive and deeply calm, as if he were waiting for something. Yesterday was, by its very definition, in the past. It could no longer hurt him. Today was the present, and the present was Frank.

He wasn't in the bed, but Gerard knew he had been there during the night. Even in sleep he had sensed him, felt his strong arms holding him. Sleeping together was a joy so deep he couldn't express it, as if it had been meant to be. Perhaps it had been. He couldn't stop himself from hoping.

Where was he? Gerard thought he smelled coffee and got out of bed. He visited the bathroom, brushed his hair and teeth, and returned to the bedroom to dress. Oddly he felt suddenly constrained by the button up he put on and discarded it. A subtle pulsating sensation had enveloped his entire body, and the sense of waiting increased. He simply pulled on a long, loose cotton t-shirt over his nude body and went downstairs in his bare feet.

Frank wasn't in the parlour, or the kitchen, though the empty coffeepot and the cup in the sink explained the lingering scent. The kitchen door was open, the screen door no barrier to the cool damp air, and the fresh smell of rain mingled with that of the coffee. His truck was still parked at the back porch steps.

It took only a few minutes to boil water and steep a tea bag, and Gerard drank the tea while sitting at the kitchen table, watching the rain sheet down the window. It was cool enough that he should have been chilled, wearing only the thin t-shirt, but he wasn't, even though he could feel how his nipples had tightened. Once that would have embarrassed him. Now he thought only of Frank.

He was halfway between the table and the sink, empty cup in hand, when suddenly Frank was there, standing on the other side of the screen door, watching him through the wire mesh. His clothing was plastered to his skin, rainwater dripping off of his face. Gerard froze, his head turned to stare at him.

He looked wild, primitive, his eyes narrow and glittering, his feet braced apart. Gerard could see every breath that swelled his chest, see the pulse that throbbed at the base of his throat. Though he was very still, he could feel Frank's entire body pulsating with tension. In that moment Gerard knew Frank was going to take him, and he knew that was why he had waited.

"I'll always be a half-breed."

He said in a low, harsh voice, barely audible over the drumming rain.

"There will always be people who look down on me because of it. Think long and hard before you agree to be mine, because there's no going back."

Softly, clearly, he said.

"I don't want to go back."

Frank opened the screen door and entered the kitchen, his movements slow and deliberate. Gerard's hand shook as he reached out to place his cup on the cabinet; then he turned to face him.

Frank put his hands on Gerard's waist and gently drew him up against himself. His clothes were wet, and immediately the front of Gerard's t-shirt absorbed the moisture until the damp fabric was moulded to his body. Gerard slid his hands up Frank's shoulders to join at the back of his neck and lifted his mouth to his. Frank's kiss was slow and deep, making his toes curl as hot excitement began to dart through him. Gerard knew how to kiss now and welcomed his tongue while he teased him with his own. Franks chest lifted with a deep, sharp intake of breath, and his grip on Gerard tightened. Suddenly the kiss was no longer slow, but hungry and urgent, and the pressure of his mouth was almost painful.

Gerard felt Frank's callused palm sliding up his thigh. Frank reached his hip and paused, shuddering with violent arousal as he realised he was naked under the long shirt; then his hand moved to his bare buttocks and caressed them. It was surprisingly pleasurable, and Gerard moved his bottom against his hand. Frank had opened up an entire new world for him, the world of sensual pleasure, and he was constantly expanding the limits.

Frank couldn't wait much longer, and he lifted Gerard in his arms. His face was hard and intent as he looked down at him.

"Unless the house catches on fire, I won't stop this time."

He said quietly.

"I don't care if the phone rings, or if anyone drives up, or even knocks on the bedroom door. This time, we finish it."

Gerard didn't reply, but gave him a slow, sweet smile that made him burn to take him right there. His arms tightened as he carried him up the narrow, creaky stairs and into his bedroom, where he carefully placed him on the bed.

Frank stood looking down at him for a moment, then walked to the window and raised it.

"Let's let the storm in."

He said, and then it was with them, filling the half-dark room with sound and vibration. The rain-chilled air washed over Gerard, cool and fresh on his heated skin. He sighed, the small sound drowned out by the din of thunder and rain.

There by the window, with the dim grey light outlining the bulge and plane of powerful muscle, Frank removed his wet clothing. Gerard lay quietly on the bed, his head turned to watch him. The shirt went first, revealing his sleek, heavy shoulders and washboard stomach. Gerard knew from touching him that he was unbelievably hard, with no give beneath his smooth skin. He bent down to tug off his boots and socks, then straightened and unbuckled his belt. The noise of the storm made his movements a pantomime, but he imagined the small pop as he unsnapped his jeans, then the hissing of the zipper as metal teeth pulled apart. Without hesitation he pushed down his jeans and underwear and stepped free of them.

He was naked. Gerard's heart jerked painfully in his chest as he stared at him, for the first time feeling remarkably small and helpless beside him. He was strong, and he was undeniably male. Gerard couldn't look away from his hard manhood. He was going to take him inside, accept his heavy weight as they joined in the act of mating, and he was a little frightened, cos he knew this was going to hurt.
Frank saw it in his eyes as he eased down beside him.

"Don't be afraid."

He whispered, brushing Gerard's hair away from his face. His hands were gentle as he softly stroked Gerard's pale cheek.

"I know what's going to happen."

Gerard murmured, turning his face against Frank's shoulder.

"The mechanics of it, anyway. But I just don't see how it's possible."

"It is. I'll take it slow and easy."

"All right."

Gerard whispered his acquiescence and let Frank lift him so he could pull the t-shirt up his body. His chest was bare, and he could feel his nipples tightening and puckering. Frank bent to kiss both nipples, wetting them with his tongue, and Gerard's back arched as heat spread through him. He quickly stripped the shirt away, the need to have him bare under his hands too urgent for him to ignore it any longer.

Gerard quivered, then lay still. It was the first time since babyhood that anyone but himself had seen him completely nude; his cheeks heated, and he closed his eyes as he struggled with the sensations of embarrassment and painful exposure. Frank ran his fingers over Gerard's chest, then his rough palm slowly moved down his stomach until his fingers stroked gently along Gerard's hard length. Gerard made a small sound, and his eyes flew open to find Frank watching him with such a fierce, heated expression that he forgot his embarrassment. He was suddenly proud that Frank wanted him so intensely, that his body aroused him. His legs relaxed, and Frank moved one finger lower to brush softly over Gerard's entrance. Gerard's entire body tensed again, and he moaned. Frank brought three fingers up to his mouth and wet them with his tongue, before returning to slide one finger slowly inside. Gerard hadn't known anything could feel like that, and he gasped as Frank's finger brushed over something that made his back arch right off the bed. He sensed there was more, and he didn't know if he could survive it. This was pleasure too intense to be borne.

"Do you like that?"

Frank murmured.
Gerard gasped, his slender body beginning to writhe slowly on the sheets in a rhythm as old as the ages. Frank opened his legs farther with his hand, then returned to his sensual exploration, and at the same time bent to sink his lips down over Gerard's tip, pre-cum leaking onto his tongue. Gerard's head spun, and his nails dug into Frank's scalp slightly as he clung to his hair. He couldn't believe how Frank was touching him, sucking him, how it made him feel, but he never wanted it to stop. Frank was causing a fever inside him, as he added a second, then third finger, thrusting, stroking and scissoring him. The stretch bordered on pain, but the pleasure was one that spread and intensified until he was aware of nothing but his own body and Frank's. His stroking fingers raised him to delirium while his mouth teased him closer and closer.

"Frank, please."

He begged, frantic with need.

"Just a minute longer, sweetheart. Look at me. Let me see your face when I—ahh."

Gerard whimpered. Frank was stroking against his sweet-spot constantly now, his black gaze was locked with Gerard's as he slowly slid his fingers around inside him, and they both shuddered convulsively.

Frank knew he couldn't wait any longer. His entire body was throbbing. Gerard was soft and incredibly tight, and he was writhing on the verge of ecstasy. His pale, translucent skin intoxicated him, enthralled him; just touching it made him wild. The textures of his body excited him more than anything he'd ever known before. Everything about the younger man was soft and silky. His hair was baby-fine, his skin delicate and satiny; even the curls between his legs were soft, rather than springy. He wanted him more than he wanted his next breath.

Frank moved between Gerard's legs, spreading them to make room for his hips to nestle against him, and drawing his knees up on either side of his hips. He spat on his palm and stroked himself for a moment or two, spit and pre-cum mixing to aid the slide. Frank groaned as he rubbed his tip against Gerard's entrance. Gerard inhaled sharply as he felt him, hard and burning. Their eyes met again as he guided himself into position, then began entering him, nice and slow.

The storm was right over them now. The lightning cracked, and the almost simultaneous thunder boomed, rattling the old house. The sharply gusting wind blew the curtains straight out into the room, spattering rain on the floor in front of the open window and carrying a fine mist over their bodies. Gerard cried, his tears mingling with the mist on his face, as he accepted his slow penetration.

Frank was braced over him on his forearms, his face just an inch from Gerard's. He licked the tears away, then kissed his mouth, and he tasted salt. Gerard could feel burning pain as his body stretched to admit him, and enormous pressure. More tears seeped from the corners of his eyes. Frank deepened the kiss as his buttocks flexed, exerting more pressure, and suddenly his body's barrier gave way. Frank pushed deep into him, burying himself to the hilt with a deep, almost tortured groan of pleasure.

There was pain, but there was also a lot more. Frank had told him that making love was hot and sweaty, and that he probably wouldn't like it, and he was both right and wrong. It was hot and sweaty, and raw, and primitive. It was so powerful that it swept him along with its rhythms. Despite the pain, he felt exalted by Frank's possession. He could feel the tension and savage excitement in his powerful body as he cradled him with his legs and arms, his depths filled with him. Gerard loved him, and Frank needed him. He had never really lived before, until this moment when he gave himself to the man he loved.

He couldn't keep it back, not that it mattered. Frank had to know already. Gerard had never worn an emotional mask. His hands moved over Frank's sleek, wet shoulders and into his thick hair.

"I love you."

He said, his soft voice barely audible over another booming roll of thunder.
If he replied, Gerard didn't hear him. Frank reached down between their bodies again, but this time his hand was on him, and he began moving, while stroking Gerard's throbbing flesh with the same rhythm as his own thrusts. Heat shimmered through Gerard again, making the discomfort fade; his body arched, hips lifting in an effort to take him even deeper, and he told him again that he loved him. Sweat beaded Frank's taut face as he tried to control his thrusts, but the storm was in the room, in their bodies. Gerard's hips undulated, rolling, driving him mad. They strained together, their movements punctuated by the thunder, by the thudding of the headboard against the wall, and by the creaking of the bedsprings beneath them. Low groans and soft cries; wet flesh and trembling muscles; hands clutching frantically; harsh, rapid breathing and urgent thrusts—Gerard knew all of that, felt it, heard it, and felt himself being consumed by the fever.

"Frank?"

His questioning cry was thin, frantic. His nails dug into the flexing muscles of his back.

"Don't fight it, baby. Let it go."

He was groaning, feeling his own completion approaching, and he had no more control left. He removed his hand from between them and gripped Gerard's hips, lifting them, fitting himself more solidly to him and rocking against his loins.

Gerard felt the tension and fever increase to unbearable levels, and then his senses exploded. He cried out, his entire body shuddering and clenching. It was the sweetest madness imaginable, a pleasure beyond description, and it continued until he thought he might die of it, as he covered both of their stomachs with his cum. Frank held Gerard until he quietened, then began thrusting hard and fast. His guttural cries blended with the thunder as he crushed him against the mattress, his body convulsing as the powerful jetting of completion emptied him. Gerard clung to him, his bottom lip held fast between his teeth.

They were silent afterward, as if words would be an intrusion between them. Their mating had been so compelling and urgent that nothing else had existed. Even the storm, as violent as it was, had been only an accompaniment. Slowly, reluctantly, Gerard felt reality return, but he was content to lie beneath Frank and do nothing more than stroke his hair.

Their breathing had long since steadied and the storm moved away when Frank disengaged their bodies and shifted onto his side. He cradled Gerard for a time, but now that their skin had cooled, the mist-dampened bed was distinctly uncomfortable. When Gerard began to shiver, Frank got out of bed and crossed to the window to close it. Gerard watched as his muscles alternately bunched and relaxed with each movement of his nude body. Then he turned, and he was instantly, helplessly, fascinated. He wished for the nerve to run his hands all over him, especially his loins. He wanted to inspect him, like an exploration, going over uncharted territory.

"Like what you see?"

His voice was low and filled with amusement.

Things had gone too far between them for Gerard to be embarrassed now. He looked up at him and smiled.

"Very much. I imagined you once in a loincloth, but this is much better."

Frank reached down and plucked him from the bed as easily as if he were a feather.

"We'd better get dressed before you get cold, and before I forget my good intentions."

"What good intentions?"

"Not to keep at you until you're so sore you can't walk."

Gerard looked gravely at him.

"You made it wonderful for me. Thank you."

"It was pretty damn wonderful for me, too."

One side of his mouth quirked upward, and he slid his hands into Gerard's silvery blonde hair.

"No bad moments?"

Gerard understood what he meant and leaned his head against Frank's chest.

"No. That was an entirely different thing."

But he hadn't forgotten, either, and Frank knew it. He was still shaky and vulnerable inside, though he kept his chin proudly lifted. Frank intended for someone to pay for the damage done to Gerard's indomitable spirit.

He'd spent years living quietly on the fringes, maintaining the sort of armed truce that had existed between him and the citizens of Ruth, but no more. For Gerard, he would find the creep who had attacked him, and if the townspeople didn't like it, that was just too bad.

Notes

Hi there chipmunks.. How's you?..

So I love you all soooooooo much, that I thought I'd give you two chapters today, including some much anticipated smut!!.. Enjoyed that, did you?..

Please comment, stay safe, and peace out babies!
<3