The badge of his identity 6

[siriala]

He woke up in a small but pristine room. The opened window, carrying the promise of spring inside with the bird songs that had partly awakened him, also let in the scents of a fresh and new day, and the prolonged silence - no human voice chatting away, even in the distance - told him he was not in the capital.

"Where am I ?" he asked as he turned his head to look at the forty-something, sturdy woman applying a very greasy cream on his naked back, buttocks and thighs.

Her answer left a lot to be desired, for it was complete, foreign gibberish that made no sense to him. He couldn't even place her origin, so he let it go and gave himself back to the feeling of her massaging hands, unable to resist the call of sleep.

He woke up next to the sound of the door opening. A man entered, one he thought he recalled from the last, disastrous reception at Armstrong's. Dark hair, frame harmonious if not tall, pleasant face although his expression might be considered a tad condescending. They had been introduced, Jared recalled. A prince or something, from some eastern country with confusing spelling, but the guy's name eluded him right now. They hadn't talked either, the prince seated right next to Armstrong during dinner, as guest of honor, while Jared was relegated at the end of the table. He could only remember the aristocrat's hungry gaze that night, and Armstrong's surprising silence at the way his mouth had seemed to taste Jared's hand in greeting. Probably some important client the banker needed to spare, important enough to impress him with the infamous courtesan he bedded, only to keep them apart afterwards to make sure the whore would respect their contract ; so important that Jared couldn't see any other reason to explain Armstrong's over the top reaction to his faux-pas.

But it didn't explain why the prince-or-something was here now, sitting next to a bedridden, stark-naked Jared, smiling when he realized his eyes were open. At ease enough for one of his hands to begin tracing imaginary lines on his back.

Jared shuddered, anticipating pain, but the hand avoided his wounds, circling around them as if following already-drawn arabesques tattooed on his skin with his blood and pain.

"I'm King Hal, first of the House of Ozsan," the man said while he took the jar of cream from the nightstand to rub some of it onto Jared's wounds. "Welcome back to the land of the living. The drug you've been administered to sleep might have you searching for your memories and words for a little while yet. I'm going to tell you what happened recently but feel free to ask any questions, even the ones that might seem unimportant, alright ? So you're here with me because I wished to get to know you a lot better the moment we met. After Curtis calmed down that night, I talked him into passing your contract on to my care. You had fainted by then, and I had my people bring you to my home, before my personal doctor took care of you. We've kept you asleep since then, to ensure that your body would use its whole energy to heal, and we traveled here to benefit from the countryside's fresh air. This cream I'm using is my mother's recipe, to be applied on your welts many times a day, and I expect you'll get very minimal scarring from the whipping. Maybe even not at all if we keep at it for the next few months."

Hal's words all tended to collide inside Jared's fuzzy skull. He had been forced asleep and unable to defend himself for God knew how many days. He was presently somewhere unknown, at the complete mercy of this man who, as nice as he appeared to be, could reveal himself to be a dangerous lunatic and seemed rich and powerful in ways granting that everyone obeyed him. No one knew of Jared's whereabouts. Not even Jensen, one of the very few persons to really care for him.

"Where am I ?" he asked again, needing to know how easily he could make a run for it.

"One of my domains, down in the south of the country, one of those places where you meet history with every step you take. I'll give you the grand tour later, when you're fit to walk. There's a stunning view over the valley and I look forward to taking you there, under the stare of the hawks that they call royal here."

Relieved that he was still in the country, Jared ignored Hal's proprietary comment to snort at the irony that might have brought him closer to Jensen than he had been in a long while. Jensen who was maybe worried about Jared's epistolary silence but had no idea that his lover had been sold to a new client who may prove better or not than the crazy one Jared was so glad and relieved to be rid of.

This part of Hal's speech suddenly resonated in his muddled brain. Armstrong had just about sold him to another client without Jared ever being asked about it. Armstrong had acted as Jared's pimp.

The thought itself had him freeze and break into a sweat.

He should be running away, asserting his independence again, showing this man he wasn't at his beck and call, a sex slave for his court or his harem back home, wherever home might be for the king.

But he felt so tired, discouraged. Humiliated. Pretty sure that no other client than Hal Ozsan would ever be interested in him again after the distasteful display at Armstrong's reception. Maybe he could take the time to heal, to find his footing anew and plan for his career, in a luxurious environment, in the care of a rich client ready to wait for Jared to feel better before any fucking happened.

The fucking indeed happened, probably sooner than Jared would have wished, but not before the local doctor, an odd little man with a sing-song accent, bowless eyeglasses and huge muttonchops, proclaimed his back healed enough to live and dress normally. Except no real dressing was planned. Not even when Jared left the house and followed Hal to the promontory he had been told about, some one hundred meters over the river, and the precipice made him feel almost as nauseous as the drugs he could still taste in the depth of his throat.

Hal took off of him the flimsy négligé his seamstress had created during Jared's long sleep, along many other sexy clothes and underwear, and replaced it with the warm embrace of his eyes to admire him as promised, naked against the clear blue sky of the wild countryside. He let his hands wander around Jared's whole body, strong and proprietary, before he bent Jared over the parapet to rim him lingeringly, languorously, more enticingly than anything they had already done in the previous days, light touching and lazy making out, foreplay for the sake of being close and taking pleasure in caressing another man's body.

Lost between heaven and earth, eyes closed to ignore the void beneath, Jared felt his desire surge anew at last, cock pointing to the sky as Hal impaled him for the very first time. His thrusts began slow and short, punctuated by Hal's low voice telling him about the battle that had taken place on the river below some three hundred years before. The clash of arms, the cries of men, fire and water, bravery and cowardice, victory and defeat, incredibly arousing words that got more epic and the sex more violent as the tale of the battle drew to its climax.

Every morning from then on, Hal and Jared met on the promontory, and Jared learned once again to see the beauty of his own body through his client's eyes. Distractions far and few in this uneventful province, their time was well spent fucking like rabbits. Even after Hal reached his own limit, he still enjoyed playing with Jared's body, bringing him to an almost release only to keep him there, walking the edge of another type of precipice, but one that Jared knew better how to deal with.

They drove around in an open cab, visited castles and abbeys, and everywhere Hal found a perfectly valid reason to take Jared aside, in a room alone, to fuck him again. Between cocktails and receptions in Hal's honor, under the tearful eye of a Pietà or in front of the unusual and seductive impression of a grey and gold grisaille, Hal kept on fucking him all around the region.

"I guess the rumor of our liaison has reached my country," Hal announced one day. "My brother just wrote and it seems he's jealous, enough to visit us. I want you at your most beautiful, love."

"Don't call me that," Jared rebuffed him immediately. "Love has to mean something, don’t trivialize that word."

Explaining that Jensen was the only person allowed to speak to him this way was both useless for Hal and painful for Jared.

"You're right. Would sweetheart be more to your liking ?"

Hal could be disarmingly sweet and charming, however masterful he proved in the bedroom. He didn't seem to find it contradictory to show respect for Jared in his words, sometimes even tenderness, and next fuck him senseless in front of his staff or his guests. His stamina was tiring, even to someone ten years younger. And his much younger brother proved to be made of the same stuff as soon as he arrived.

In no time, Jared found himself serving the two brothers at once. His tiredness increased with the need to put on a non-stop show for both his clients and Jared quickly nurtured a deep dislike of the younger man, who seemed to hold a grudge against the whole world for being a mere prince because of his birth date, cursing the universe that didn't make him the ruling king in his big brother's stead. Hal was oblivious to Roman's jealousy, doting brother who wanted his younger sibling to experience all the good things in this life and make the most of it, especially where Jared was concerned.

"I've always wanted to give double penetration a try," Hal declared on their first day all together, "but none of the whores I bought inspired enough confidence in me to do it. None of my more regular dates either. And there's also the problem of the second penetrator. But with you and my brother, I know I've found the perfect team."

"Does it mean ?..." Jared suddenly worried. "You want me to take you both at the same time ?"

It might have been strange that after so many years of prostitution Jared could still find himself unbalanced by the idea of a particular sexual act. But this was something Jeff had never forced on him, and Jared had been too afraid of the consequences of such an act turned wrong that he had avoided the experience at all costs.

"Don't worry, Jared, you'll be handsomely rewarded. Double client, double the price."

It was the end of the negotiations on Hal's side, and Jared still felt too fuzzy-headed with the excess of wine and liquors during the previous night to listen to the alarm in his head reminding him why he had never accepted that kind of game before.

Double the price was a good thing. Right ?

It justified all the pain and the jibes, his self-respect going down the drain along with every taunt Hal's brother used to mock him. Unpolished despite his royal upbringing, so sure of himself thanks to the certainty of youth to always know better, Roman was the worst kind of brat : the one who thought fortune, power and birth excused everything.

The one certain that a whore's only right was to shut up and endure while they earned their money.

Jared could have been seduced ultimately by the idea of being taken by Hal and Jensen at the same time. The men were without contest his best lovers, for an assemblage of reasons that married technique, thoughtfulness and seduction. But Roman was neither his type nor talented enough to erase his worries. He wouldn't even consider imitating his brother's prowess and learning by watching, too focused on proving his own mastery.

Unable to lose himself entirely as usual in the endless sky looking down on the promontory, Jared felt old next to Roman. He couldn't remember ever being so stupid and full of himself. He didn't want to feel the prince's fingers pushing past his rim to prepare him for the frightening fucking about to occur. He didn't want to feel his other hand all over his skin, twisting his nipples or jerking his cock. Even the sound of his voice became grating in a very short time, his bon mots crude and distasteful.

"Too bad my fingers are too short to find your own promontory," Roman whispered in Jared's ear while he worked three of them inside him.

"What are you talking about ?" Jared panted, mind blank with arousal at Hal's more exciting ministrations on his cock.

"Your promontory ? The bone in your ass, right after the sacrum ? Tell me you've heard about it !"

Roman couldn't see his eyes rolling but he probably realized all the same that Jared still had no clue about his pun.

"I'm disappointed, brother. I thought this was a first class courtesan. Good thing the bitch is pretty, because he's kind of dumb."

"Roman !" Hal chided him without ever ceasing to stroke Jared's dick. "This bitch is offering himself to you, so you'd better show some appreciation for the gift. Respect is paramount between a prince and his subjects, and it goes both ways."

"You're right, Sire, of course. Jared, my apologies."

It sure was the most insincere apology Jared had heard in a long time, but Roman forced himself into more considerate behavior anyway, and Jared was pretty sure he would stick to it for the remainder of his stay after such a rebuff.

Impatient to go on with this double penetration he had fantasized about so badly, Hal took over the preparation, making sure to stretch Jared well and long enough to reduce the possibility of tearing to a minimum. For the same reason, he offered to Roman to go first, preferring to control the second, more dangerous part of the experiment.

Jared feared his own apprehension far more than the acclimation of his body already used to seeing a lot of action. He hardly noticed Roman sliding into him, getting a feel for Jared's body with a few thrusts aiming for his prostate. His technique may not be bad in itself, but it lacked the finesse of Hal's and it didn't care for Jared's pleasure in any other way than showing off through Jared's cries of bliss.

Jared's prostate wanted this, his mind already imagining the incredible pleasure he could get from not just one dick but two, hitting there constantly, together if possible or one right after the other. He didn't know, and he really didn't care. He urged Hal to stop with his fingers already and get in with his cock, reveling in the burning stretch of his muscle.

For the first time in his life, he arrived at a deep understanding of the weird pleasure found in pain as Hal slid inside along his brother. He cried for more and begged to stop in the same breath, crazy and drunk on sensations heightened to inhuman levels. He felt like falling from the promontory down to the river, experience worth the prize even though he was sure to die in the end. He felt like the hawks flying high, critically observing the men's mating parade. He felt stuck in a body far too small despite his size to host two lovers at a time.

Kissed and caressed to the point of suffocating with lust, his awareness still never left his rim, stroked again and again by the shafts holding him open. Each man in turn came closer to Jared, to gather more strength before every thrust and push him up or down in the other's embrace. Jared's cock, close to bursting, kept being pressured between Roman's stomach and his own every time Hal shoved him from behind. Even the sensation of being prisoner between the royal brothers, incapable to escape, enhanced his desire.

None of them were destined to hold out for long and Jared led the way, pushed beyond the edge by the two men ganging up on him to make sure he couldn't get down from his high for a long, long time.



Jared yawned quietly, Hal and Roman dozing on each side of his still-naked body, and tilted his head up to offer himself to the caress of the sun. He kept the pose for a while, happy to be free of expectations and duty for a few blissful minutes. Satisfying two clients at the same time, two virile and very demanding lovers, was taking its toll on his body. All the stunts he had pulled with Hal previously were now duplicated with a second man to entertain just as much as the first one, both in private and publicly. Their sleeping arrangement, a temporary ménage-à-trois, was probably known well outside the elusive frontiers of their castle and Jared doubted they fooled anyone they visited when they disappeared for at least a quarter of an hour, often more, only to reappear disheveled and smelly. But such was the world that, though Jared may get contemptuous looks, no disagreeable remarks ever criticized the king's attitude, nor his brother's.

In consequence, times to stand down and enjoy laziness were rare for Jared these days, and all the more appreciated. Times to break down and read the Gazette he had seen lying around for days without daring to touch it, to turn it to page four and look for an article written by a famous columnist of his acquaintance.

There was none in this edition.

He hadn't heard from Jensen for more than two months now, and maybe it was a sign. Sure, Jensen probably didn't know where he was, and with whom. To be honest, Jared preferred it that way. He had tried so hard to maintain the image of a classy escort, but year after year, month after month, Jensen had been a privileged witness to all of Jared's depravations. He had had to fight for him, putting his own life in danger, and Jared didn't have to think far to understand why their relationship had constantly deteriorated along with their latest encounters. Jensen could take no more pride in being his lover. Jared had seen it in his face, in the obvious pleasure at the idea of leaving to cover the miners' strike, far from Jared and their difficult understanding.

Jensen's life goal was to fight for the poor and the defenseless. Jared might be both of these after his return to the capital - he wasn't fool enough to imagine the tasteless display at Armstrong's would do any good to his reputation, or not to know that he would have to accept lesser dealings in the upcoming months in order to work at all - but he couldn't force Jensen to deal with this too. Nor could he afford to show sentimentalism when he took a client, and he would have to in order to spare his lover.

The time had come to end it with Jensen.

Maybe… maybe he could convince his lover to wait for him. Jensen had always been so understanding, so patient. Maybe he would agree to wait till Jared was ready to quit, to live his life on the side while Jared worked to make enough money, to make sure he would never lack for anything or depend on anyone else again.

Jared shook his head with derision. Jensen was understanding, true. But they were lovers. He had never asked that Jared stop working because they enjoyed a lot of good times together. Now what Jared imagined was far too much, a promise of love without exchange. Jensen was an ardent lover, a man in his prime who needed to make love, who deserved to be loved.

Jared had to resign himself and make this a clean cut.

Maybe they would meet again later, and maybe, if Jensen hadn't met and married someone else by that time, if Jensen didn't begrudge him for their separation, if Jensen still loved him… maybe they could give it another try.

Maybe more than a try, a real relationship, Jared totally Jensen's.

One day, when Jared was able to offer his undivided focus, body and feelings to one man, and one man only. Jensen.



Hal was feeling frisky and sharing today. Just like most days, really, and this party was nothing exactly new, save for the sheer number of visitors, endless parade of amorous gentlemen unwilling to bypass the opportunity to fuck a courtesan usually far away or too pricy for their own purse.

To spice things up, Jared had been used as a food decoration at first. Then as a table. Diverse scenes evolving after about half an hour, turning Jared this way or that, exposing his nudity in various fashions to encourage the guests to taste and touch the food as well as his body. And as the wine flowed, the shyest men in attendance lost their inhibitions to enjoy the very unusual orgy, first and maybe last moment of true decadence in their secluded lives.

Sex was boring, the image of one man melting into the next, the feeling of their dick in his ass just as underwhelming as the next one. Jared knew too well when to moan, cry, ask for deeper, harder, faster, how to ensure that all those men, all potential clients should they ever wander outside of their province up to the capital, left with the feeling that they were the best sex Jared had ever had in his entire career.

He wondered what Jensen was doing. Was he still in the south too, covering the miners' strike ? Dining alone, or with some friends ? With Misha, maybe ? Or that grizzly bear, Ty of the moustache so big that it got lost in his impressive sideburns, and who Jared had always thought was more than a bit in love with Jensen ?

Was he wondering why Jared had left for so long without a word ? Worrying ?

Then he quashed that thought ruthlessly. He had decided to end it. Thinking about Jensen was nothing but pure masochism. That way madness lies.

Boring was good. Boring meant no hurt or pain, no drama or dilemma. Boring was safe and it brought money.

The only fault he could find in his new client was this habit of his to pass him around. Sure, his wages grew exponentially with each new man allowed to fuck him thanks to Hal's generosity, but it was still a bit too close to Jeff's behavior for Jared's peace of mind.

Hal could see no problem with this way of living. He claimed to be a man of simple needs, and simple fun. He enjoyed seeing Jared in the throes of pleasure, offered to the hands of any willing person, and he quickly made plans to keep enjoying this for as long as possible.

Once his brother had left for their country, Hal didn't seem to mind getting back to his habit of fucking Jared all alone on the promontory. The day was fresh and grey, sky low and cloudy, when he talked Jared into leaving with him to become his permanent favorite.

"Think about it, Jared. The sweet life I could give you. No worries, no troubles. My palace at your disposition. My whole country. My people would love you, and no one could treat you like Curtis did."

"No one but you," Jared corrected.

"True, but you know that's not my style. I worship beauty, I don't try to destroy it."

It was distressingly tempting. The idea of being served at all times, pampered and coddled by a benevolent monarch. No decision to make, no high society to judge him, the easiest way to earn a lot of money. Hal was handsome and Jared had no feelings for him, which made him the perfect client.

Jared might be happy out there, but he was sure to lose himself. If he gave in, he would become again the Jared he had left behind with the memories of Jeff Morgan and his lack of self-respect. He had no right to do that after all he had endured to be free, after everything Jensen had done to make him the only master of his own life, and he would never forgive himself.

"I'm sorry, Hal. It's a very appealing offer, but I have to decline. I'm not the kind of flower you can put in a vase, I need real soil, and the freedom of open spaces to live my life. I've enjoyed our time together, but I feel it's come to a natural ending. I'll be heading back to the capital tomorrow if you don't mind, back to my real life."

Hal sighed his disappointment.

"I will regret your decision, no doubt about it," he said with a gentle caress on Jared's face, "but if this night is the last we spend together, I'm going to make the most of it. I want you naked in my bed until the moment of your departure."



Jensen's three months out of the capital had felt like a rejuvenating therapy, the sharing of ideals with like-minded people ready to go as far as needed to bring a fairer social order. The deep sense of camaraderie justified his long sojourn and explained why he hadn't really tried to find out why Jared had been entirely silent after only one letter. They probably both needed the time apart anyway.

Back home at last, and right after spending some re-bonding time with his daughter, Jensen's second act was to write a short letter to Jared to announce his return. He felt all the more troubled to know that Jared had not only stopped writing to him but that even Licia hadn't seen him in almost as long as Jensen had been gone.

The answer came two days later, a few laconic words to invite Jensen to join Jared for supper.

He was on his way, worries about seeing his lover again overwhelmed by impatience and desire, when he realized he was followed. One man first, then two, and finally, as he entered an alley deserted at this already late hour, he found himself surrounded by four pretty robust guys clearly looking for trouble.

"Gentlemen," Jensen turned around to welcome them, "something you needed to tell me ?"

He got ready for a fight, taking his cane in hand as a weapon, slowly turning upon himself to try and keep the four men in his line of sight and react as quickly as possible. It was not the first time he had found himself in this kind of situation but he generally knew his adversaries and the reason for the attack. He was going into this one totally blind.

"Mr. Armstrong sends a message," one of the guys announced. "He said to remember in hell not to touch what doesn't belong to you."

Jensen's mind went back to the time before his departure and Jared's client of the moment.

"Well, that's beautifully cryptic. Are we talking about Curtis Armstrong, the banker ? Who thinks my lover belongs to him because of his money ? A man so brave he uses goons to settle his disagreements ? But stupid enough to make himself known to the one he's attacking ?"

"Don't worry about that, you won't be here anymore to rat on him once we're done with you."

"I'm afraid I don't care much for your scenario. I'm going to have to make a few changes."

Jensen hadn't finished distracting the men before his cane flew and the knob hit the gang leader right on his temple. The man went down and the others' stupefaction allowed Jensen to punch a second guy and knock him unconscious before they retaliated.

Two to one was much better odds in a fight. Still it was not an easy brawl by any means. The two remaining men defended themselves furiously. They had no technique to speak of, but probably a lot of experience in bar fights and the numerical advantage.

Jensen hit left and right, used his adversaries' faults to his benefit, but thought once or twice he wouldn’t make it, especially when one of the guys managed to hold his arms behind his back for the other one to pummel him hard and fast. Face, stomach, then face again, and Jensen's only chance was to play dead.

It worked splendidly, Jensen sliding to the ground and then using his legs to get one of the men down before he stood again and took on the other one. A direct blow to his right clavicle almost sent him down once more but Jensen kept fighting, supported all along by the idea that Jared was waiting for him, that he needed his protection and now was the time to prove he would never let anything bad happen to him without consequence.

He felt more worried about his lover than anything, wondering if the long silence was due to a severe beating against which Jared had no defense. Jensen should have taken the time to train him, show him how to fight, how to use his formidable size and power to block punches and hit back. Jensen knew Jared had it in him, Nemec as a perfect example, but four men were too much to take for a novice. Once again, he had been remiss in overlooking Jared's safety, even though he could tell Jared was not happy with his departure.

The second man came back into the fight but his blows were not as strong, probably because of the hard fall on his head. Jensen managed to get him down for good a few seconds later with a kick to the privates that sent him tumbling, howling his pain to the moon. Jensen would have felt for him if he didn't have another man still intent to put him into an early grave.

He searched for a resurgence of power, gathered all he could find deep inside himself, forgot how short his breath had become and the numerous pains all along his body. His mind went half-numb but his fists hardened and hit twice more than they let his opponent's pass. He ignored how tired he felt to punch endlessly, nothing in sight but the desire to win.

He didn't realize the noise he could hear was the whistle of the policemen running to control the situation at last. Four of them were necessary to pull the fighters apart. They were both just as bloody - the other guy's eyes were almost shut because of Jensen's blows while his own right arm suddenly fell as he took in the terrible pain of his clavicle again - but Jensen had no doubt that they would have kept on fighting till one of them went down for the count.

It took a few minutes for the police to come up with a cart to pile the unconscious men on and listen to Jensen's story. His clothes were in as bad a state as himself but they clearly showed him as belonging to a higher level of society than his attackers and the sergeant who wrote down Jensen's statement didn't question his version. Jensen's reputation probably helped, in this and the diligence with which a doctor was fetched to look to his wounds. His clavicle was declared unbroken but the ligaments torn and Jensen was equipped with a sling to wear as long as needed until the pain had abated.

As he awkwardly shook his left hand goodbye, the sergeant offered to have him driven home. Jensen accepted the offer for a carriage but he asked the driver to take him to his friend Ty. It was time to get information.



Just like Misha, Ty was an old army comrade segued into a lifelong friend, but the only one of them who had remained in the military. Before he left for the southwest mines, Jensen had tasked him with taking note of Jared's whereabouts and protecting him if necessary.

Nicely surprised to find him on his steps, Ty opened his door and his arms to Jensen. He inquired about his pitiful state and took him quickly to sit at the table, asking his people for a light meal and a strong brandy that Jensen enjoyed as Ty summed up for him the events of the past months.

"Ty, tell me Jared is safe."

"As far as I can tell, he is. But Jensen, I haven't been around at all times. You remember the drills, the maneuvers and all that shit. I did ask for one of my men to keep an eye on him in my stead but there was nothing he could do when Jared disappeared for a while."

"Disappeared ?!"

"Yeah. First, Armstrong had him naked and very publicly whipped for some offense that was probably just an excuse for a gratuitous display of power, and then Jared went missing. It had already happened by the time I was back in the capital and it took me a few days before I could find out he was recuperating with another client, a King Hal the Third, somewhere in the south. Not far from you, in fact. One of my friends, who's posted close enough, went for a reconnaissance, to make sure Jared was well treated. I don't think you want to know the details, but rest assured that he didn't seem incapacitated anymore."

"It felt wrong to leave," Jensen remembered, head bent to hide his shame at abandoning his lover. "I should have asked him to come with me, or find a way to stay."

"And after that ? Jensen, I get that you love the man, and I think I can even understand why, but you can't turn your whole life around for him. He wouldn't thank you for it. And he's fine."

"When did he come back ?"

"A few days ago."

So Jared had been there and he chose not to answer Jensen's letter right away.

"But he hasn't been seen anywhere since then," Ty continued. "Methinks something's on his mind and he needs time to swallow the pill. Probably could use your help and support. Especially to deal with the consequences of Armstrong's beating. Nobody would talk about anything else back then, even after a few days when I was back. Many people came to me, knowing you and I are friends and what Jared is to you. I guess your absence didn't help and rumor had it that you were fed up with the guy's antics. I don't think clients are queuing up at his door right now."

Jensen absorbed the news and took a few minutes to decide on his next move. He had promised Jared to never again challenge someone to a duel on his account. But he hadn't promised to keep out of trouble when he was the offended party. He only had to find out where Armstrong was tonight to issue his challenge.

"Ty, I'm going to need you and Misha again."



Love, I'm sorry to do this at the last minute, but I'll take a rain check. Something came up and I need to see someone tonight, which means I have to appear at some boring reception instead of spending the night in your loving arms. I will long for you and hope you'll allow me to show up tomorrow evening at the same time to make up for today's desertion.

Your loving Jensen.

Satisfied, Jensen passed the note to Wallace to send immediately and finished dressing for a reception he had absolutely no desire to attend.

Half an hour later, he entered the large, brightly lit hallway of the hosts' palace, already looking for one man. He pretty much ignored the worried glances and invasive questions about the sling and his obvious bruises and headed straight for the dancing room.

It was a well-known fact that Armstrong didn't dance, to avoid making it more evident how short he was, even next to women, but he liked to try and pass for a music lover. Indeed, Jensen found him seated close to the orchestra, a dreamy smile on his face - contrary to the nasty nature he had now revealed - a smile Jensen was confident he would quickly erase.

He came to stand in front of the vermin who effectively lost his smile as soon as he recognized Jensen. The punch of Jensen's fist on his round, smarmy face was a lot more satisfactory than the usual slap of a white evening glove across his cheek would have been, even when his torn ligaments made him see stars. Clearly audible as the music had stopped, the curious murmurs of the guests enhanced this feeling, knowing that Armstrong was now obliged to go with Jensen's demand because of the roomful of witnesses.

"This is my answer to the message your goons delivered, you minuscule filth," Jensen announced in a clear voice that could be heard from the hallway, "and as you can see they did a poor job of convincing me. I want reparations, for me as well as for all the wrong you did to a gentle man I cherish dearly. Choose your seconds, Armstrong, and make sure your business is in good hands to see to your family's future before we meet tomorrow at dawn in the Holly Wood."

Armstrong was deathly pale when he stood up. He had no choice but to agree. Even having Jensen assaulted by more men before the duel would ensure that he be arrested for murder after such a public challenge.

Jensen hoped Armstrong could read in his smile that he was as good as dead.



Jensen had an important visit to pay before he would fetch Misha and go back to Ty's. Considering his current state, and the fact that he didn't trust Armstrong at all, he couldn't ignore the possibility of losing the upcoming duel. Thus the need to make sure Jared would be alright without him, should the worst happen.

Gil invited Jensen to sit on the comfortable chair facing his in the large library lit only by the close and large hearth. While the room might seem very imposing, it was in fact a very small part of the huge manor Gil presently owned as the last descendant of his old and proud family.

But Gil was definitely not fossilized in history and past traditions, like many of the aristocratic heirs fighting for royalty Jensen battled with so hard in his Gazette. The man was very liberal, and not so secretly rooting for a republic. Jensen had become interested in him when he realized that Gil McKinney, Duke of Chester, was one of those men with roots in a very formal past willing to take a leap of faith and battle for the greater good. One who thought they were far past the time of a dominant few lording over a world of dominated, penniless working class.

"I'm happy for this visit, Jensen," Gil said, "but also surprised, considering the late hour. What can I do for you ?"

They weren't exactly friends, more like acquaintances living in different circles of society, but they shared a strong, mutual respect and Jensen had often felt that Gil wouldn't mind taking it a step further. He might have pursued a relationship with the man if he hadn't already found the love of his life.

"I know it's pretty late but I might be unavailable tomorrow and I need your help. Or maybe I should call it a favor."

"I'm listening."

"I'd like you to hire Jared Padalecki for a few nights out."

A long silence first answered his admittedly unexpected request.

"I thought he was your lover."

"That he is, but I'm also his best friend, and for both reasons, I want to see him happy. Right now, he needs to show that what happened to him during these past months hasn't diminished his value for potential clients, and to do so he needs someone to help him bounce back. That's where you intervene. I'm ready to pay for these nights if need be. All you would have to do is to be seen with him at a few fashionable events and look like you're having a great time, which I'm sure you will, because Jared is never going to let you down."

"Am I supposed to sleep with him, too ? I'm certain you're aware that I'm not much attracted to men, Jensen. You're one of the few I'd be ready to make an exception for, and this is mostly because I always enjoy our conversations and I admire your mind."

"Thanks, Gil, but no, there's no obligation to sleep with him. I'm not Jared's pimp, I'm just trying to help him get over a hard time. I can even say that I'd rather you not sleep with him, but I need someone with an unblemished reputation to show they're not afraid to be the first one to hire him again."

Jensen leaned forward and his voice turned into a near murmur, almost conspiratorial.

"I know you've been trying to buy the Gazette for some time now, and that you've always been rebuffed. Don't ask me how I know, but I have some very trustworthy sources. I also have the ear of more than one man on the journal's board, and they all made quite clear that they're not very enthused by the idea of a duke controlling the very republican Gazette. I can put in a good word for you, though, and make sure your proposition will be met with a positive and open mind."

Gil's serious face turned into a slow but real smile.

"My friend, I think we just got ourselves a deal."

Gil offered his hand to a relieved Jensen and they shook on it.

Should he be dead come tomorrow, Jensen knew Gil was too honorable a man to renege on his word. He would get Jared back in the saddle.



Jared went for a long promenade in the nearby park a few hours before Jensen's visit. He had stayed cooped up for a few days, driving himself crazy with worry about his future, hardly tolerating even Chadwick's looming presence. But then, right after finding the courage to answer Jensen's missive, he suddenly realized he could no longer stand the view of his house, the walls that felt like they were going to close in on him. He had to get away for a while.

He walked the pond's perimeter at least three times, emptying his head by watching ducks and swans floating around, bickering for the same pieces of bread thrown at them by children. He tried to gather the strength to go back home and act at last like a man. Jensen and he both needed to go their separate ways, Jared knew it, and yet no amount of self-persuasion made his decision more palatable.

He was finally on his way back home, four hours later, when he heard a woman's voice calling him.

"Mr. Padalecki ? Mr. Padalecki, is that you ?"

Jared stopped, pretty sure he didn't know the woman, or at least that she wasn't one of his former clients. Maybe the wife of one of them ?

"That's me. What can I do for you, Mrs. ... ?

The woman hopped on the curb, still a lot shorter than Jared, and offered her hand for Jared to shake it.

"I'm Kim Rhodes. I work for the Buckmaster Institution, you know, the one providing for young celibate mothers who have nowhere to go and no one to help them or their children."

"This is valuable work you're doing, I'm sure, but I fail to see how…"

"I know your donation was almost anonymous, but I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to thank you for the incredible sum you offered for our cause."

Jared suddenly understood. Jeff's money, which he had refused to take and asked Jensen to share with the other blackmailed people or donate. Now he knew what Jensen had done with it.

"This was not really my money," he said, embarrassed, "I can't accept your thanks."

"I know, Mr. Ackles briefly explained how you came into an unexpected inheritance and decided to use it to bring some good into our world. I can't tell you what it means to me and all the people I work with."

"I'm glad it could help, but I really don't think I deserve any of your praise."

"Then you're too hard on yourself," Mrs. Rhodes said, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "You're a good man, Mr. Padalecki, and I'll make sure that every woman we're able to help thanks to your donation knows what kind of person you really are."



Jared felt bad for making Jensen wait, then practically summoning him to his house, only with the idea to end it all. He had imagined making love one last time but his encounter earlier during the day with the woman working for this charity had shown, for all that didn't make it any easier, that it had to be done. Postponing would just rip his heart apart a bit more with each passing minute.

Contrary to Mrs. Rhodes and Jensen's shared belief, Jared was not a good man. He tended to sully everything he touched. The only good thing he could do by Jensen was to let him go, give him his freedom back.

Maybe he would finally believe this was a good idea if he kept repeating it often enough.

He had to steal himself when he heard the familiar sound of Jensen's cane-knocking rhythm on his door, the one of his shoes on the stairway. Even more when he saw the happy smile on his lover's face as soon as he spotted Jared.

Then Jared took in Jensen's beaten face and his arm in a sling, and everything else disappeared. The distance he had decided to keep to show they were done vanished in three steps and Jared gentled his long fingers to turn Jensen's face and take a look at his nasty bruises.

"Jensen, my God… What happened to you ?! Did you get in a fight ?"

"Something like that, yes."

"You should learn to choose your adversary. He was obviously bigger and meaner than you."

"Don't think they don't look worse than me right now !"

"They ? How many were they, exactly ?"

"Four, and they all left with a souvenir from me that they're not about to forget."

"Was it because of me ?"

"Partly. But Armstrong was mostly pissed that I had a right all his money couldn't buy."

Jared shivered with fear. They had done this to Jensen because of him. Jensen had been lucky this time, but what about other clients who would try again and again to make Jensen pay for Jared's love ?

And then what about… What about the day when someone, anyone, because of Jared or not, harmed Jensen so much that his life was in danger ? Jensen's life wasn't exactly safe in itself. His partisan articles never failed to create new enemies or regularly piss off old ones. What would happen if one of them decided to get rid of the pain and Jared wasn't around anymore to take care of him ?

He couldn't do this, couldn't end their relationship and wonder, day after day, if Jensen was alright. If he was happy and secure. In love with someone else who would never let such a wonderful man go.

He couldn't, and he wouldn't. Jensen was his private life, that's what he ought to have said to Armstrong that day, the real proof of his backbone. Jensen was the part of him that didn't belong to his job, the best part that should be left untouched by the blackness of his monetary dealings. Jared had no shortage of potential clients ; he could make clear from the beginning that his private life was just that, private, not up for discussion, and that in the same way it wouldn't interfere with his job, his job in return had no bearing on his private relationships. Anyone who didn't agree with this could find another courtesan to entertain them.

He had been freed from Morgan thanks to Jensen, he was not about to let other men, who had no real power over him other than the one he gave them, rob him of Jensen.

And he was not ready to lose the way Jensen made him feel when they made love. Jared could feel himself surge in response to Jensen's touch, and of course he used his erotic knowledge with his lover too, but it was never after a long consideration of what this particular man might enjoy ; it was a response, a gift, a beautiful dialogue between their bodies. Whenever they got near to the other, Jared's arms would reach for Jensen and pull him closer still, of their own volition, just like Jensen's arms wrapped around him and loved Jared.

There was something special and exciting between the both of them, an ebb and flow present from the beginning but honed with more than four years together, an intricacy of feelings and devotion, a web of love and dependence, something that Jared couldn't imagine experiencing with anyone else again in his life. It might be selfish of him but no, he just couldn't give up on this. Not that he really felt selfish. Jensen always made him feel beautiful and worthy, challenging Jared to be good and caring. For the first time in a long while, Jensen's article after they met had showed Jared how to love himself again and, through good times and bad times, the years hadn't erased Jensen's look of wonder and joy anytime they met.

Jensen who enjoyed Jared's extravagant presentation but knew how to see past it, admiring both the façade and what it hid. It helped Jared to remember looking beyond Jensen's own defenses, to forget his disappointment and jealousy at Jensen being allowed to adopt Licia over Jared's repeated pleas. It had been difficult and painful to admit that Jensen was a great father too, that he was able to give Licia the stability and love she craved just as much as Jared himself. A part of him had retreated behind walls, hurt and offended, feeling useless and unneeded, he could see it now. Jared had kind of made them both pay for what he perceived as a betrayal, dedicating himself even more to the pursuit of professional success. It helped him forget that Jensen's love wasn't all focused on Jared.

But then he probably feared Jensen's all-encompassing love just as much as he needed it all for himself. His feelings didn't make any kind of sense or logic, all over the place as they were, one thing and its contrary, ambivalent and screwed. But if Jensen could love him even that way, if he was still willing to be patient and understanding, Jared wasn't fool enough to let him go.

So he led Jensen to his bedroom and undressed him slowly, gently, kissing each nasty bruise to make it better and kill right now his own fear of losing his lover. Jensen was here, in his arms, and he was going nowhere. Jared made love to his beautiful body in all the ways they needed to reconnect after a long separation. He straddled his hips and sank onto his erect cock. He took him as deep inside as he could manage, to wash off the other men that had been there, and it felt just so good that he quickly shed and hid a tear or two. He couldn't bear the idea of belittling Jensen's current bliss.

Of course, his lover was not a journalist for nothing, and the questions came soon after, when Jared lay in Jensen's arms half asleep and still half high from love, making peace with the kisses they kept trading.

"Why did you stop writing, Jared ? I was gone for more than three months and I got one letter only, at the very beginning. I thought… I don't even know what I thought, but I remember feeling scared, for me and Licia, that you didn't want us anymore."

He could have explained about Armstrong and Hal Ozsan, and he probably would sooner or later, but they were only circumstances. They didn't explain why Jared had taken a step back.

"I think… I wanted to prove that I can make it. That I'm good on my own, that I don't always need someone to make decisions for me or be there to clean up my mess, not even you. That I belong to myself."

"You can do that, Jared. You've always been your own master, even with Morgan lording over you. But we can do better. We can belong to each other, sustain each other. Anyone can stand on their own and decide they'll be better off needing no one else. We can choose to lean on us, for as long as we want. I've done it since we met, and I always thought I was so much better for this. Because of your love. I want to do the same for you. To make you feel secure. Loved. Never alone."

Jared looked up, stunned. Because of your love, Jensen had said. Not because I love you, but because you love me. Because Jared's love, of which he had no doubt, had made Jensen feel stronger and better.

And it was true he loved this man. So much he couldn't help coming back again and again to him. He was pretty much Jared's first thought in the morning, his last desire before sleep took him.

He would never say to Jensen how close he had come to ending it definitely. There was a good chance, as astute as he was, that Jensen had known it all along anyway. No mail for more than two months had to be a pretty good giveaway. But speaking those words aloud might drive a wedge between them, something Jared wanted to avoid at all costs now that he had chosen his place at last.



It wasn't until much later the next day that Jensen told Jared Armstrong was dead.



Jared watched Jensen sleep, seeking Jared's contact even while unconscious. The thought warmed him as much as the first day he had admitted his feelings to himself and acknowledged the fact that they were reciprocated.

With this new duel, Jensen had proved once again that no one, and maybe nothing, came before Jared in his life ; that he was ready to meet danger at every opportunity for Jared's sake.

Jared loved that about him. And some part of him also felt stifled, the one that had said no to Hal and rejoiced at Jeff's demise. The one that wanted Jared to lead his life for himself and no one else, not even the beloved man that had made it all possible.

He wasn't sure yet how he would be able to navigate those strong and contrary currents, but he had to try. Beginning with this job offer he had received earlier today.

It was more than time he really took his destiny in hand. That he stopped letting interferences, pleasant as they may be, run between him and his goal. More than time to capitalize on his will to win and become the best courtesan, which he had implemented the day he had set his sights on Jensen. To make all the opportunities offered by his lover fructify.

To become a man not only rich but respected.

Nothing should come before this plan. Nothing would.