FIC: "Escalation", Aaron Matthews/Michael Chatman, Johnny Corlioni/Michael Chatman
Title: Escalation
Author: hawkeyecat
Character or Pairing: Aaron Matthews; Michael Chatman; mention of Johnny Corlioni
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Abuse; gay male relationship; possibly contains triggers; dubious consent and non-consensual sex; crude language.
Claimer: All characters contained herein are original and not borrowed from any television shows, movies, or other media. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Prompt and Community: 052. Force; 100_situations
Word Count: 2,668
Beta(s): sarcasticsra
Author's Notes: Inspired by a comment from cerieblue819. For reasons I don't know, 100_situations has been suspended. That's not going to stop me from posting for it, however.
Michael had been in exactly one relationship with a guy before Johnny. Sure, he’d fucked (okay, been fucked by) more, but there was one he’d lived with, one he’d loved.
He met Aaron at an intelligence meeting. The new guy, Michael hadn’t been out of the Navy long when he was hired, and he was still trying to figure out how he fit in. Not to mention the pesky issue of whether he was gay or straight or somewhere in between. Sure, there’d been girls, but he’d had sex with a couple of guys. Liked that a hell of a lot more than he’d expected.
Aaron was the only one to approach him after the meeting, and Michael couldn’t help but notice his dark eyes, strong build (little taller than Michael), friendly smile. “You’re new, aren’t you? Aaron Matthews. Been here a couple of years. I can show you the ropes.”
Michael honestly couldn’t tell if Aaron was flirting or just being friendly. Either way, he shook the offered hand. “Michael Chase. Appreciate it, mate. Different from the Navy. It takes getting used to.”
“You were Navy?” Aaron asked, interested. “Ex-Army myself. Not too much of a change, once you get the hang of the paperwork. You supposed to be a desk jockey or field?”
“Desk for six months. The higher-ups want me in the field fast-did some intelligence work for the Navy. You?”
“I’m field. Back here recovering from a shoulder gunshot and a couple of broken ribs. There are some people you don’t mess with,” Aaron said darkly.
Michael was about to ask when he remembered it was probably classified, and his clearance sucked so far. Only his second day, after all.
“Come on,” Aaron added. “I’ll show you the forms, filing system, that kind of thing.”
Aaron was true to his word, and by the time Michael had finally started feeling comfortable with how things worked, he was positive Aaron was flirting with him. The glances down at his groin had helped with that.
“You want to go out for drinks?” Aaron asked at the end of the day. “Just between friends.”
Michael didn’t particularly want it to be just between friends. “Sure, mate. Sounds great.”
Apparently, Aaron’s definition of “just friends” was radically different than Michael’s, since they wound up in Aaron’s flat, Michael pinned against the front door with Aaron’s tongue in his mouth. Not that Michael was complaining.
Aaron was rougher in bed than Michael was used to, taking him hard from behind and talking dirty the whole time. Not degrading Michael, exactly, more of, “You like my cock up your ass, don’t you? Like it hard and fast. You’re fucking tight, Mikey. Have to fuck you again, take this ass much as I can. Bet you like toys. Like being watched while you fuck yourself. While you jerk off.” He didn’t give Michael a reach-around and didn’t let him touch himself until after he’d pulled out. Being watched while he jerked off was humiliating and shameful and more of a turn-on than Michael had ever thought possible.
They never really had a proper date. Usually, it was drinks followed by rough sex, or just rough sex. Not that Michael had a problem with that. And it wasn’t like it was all about the sex-they’d talk after the sex sometimes, and often at the office. By the time they’d been together for a month and a half, Aaron was about to leave on an assignment, and he decided they should move in together before he left. Michael didn’t argue, and that night, they had sex in their bed for the first time.
While Aaron was gone-England, from what Michael could gather-things went well for a couple of weeks. But three days before Aaron was due back, three agents were killed in America, one each in New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago, linked only by the vast mob family they were infiltrating and the methodical executions, and the office erupted in collating everything they knew and getting agents into deeper covers before more could die at Mafia hands. So Michael didn’t have a chance to clean up the apartment, let alone get together dinner for Aaron. In fact, he wasn’t even thinking about Aaron when he let himself in, not until Aaron rose from his chair. Michael started to smile at the sight and barely had a chance to register the empty beer bottles by the chair before Aaron hit him, backhanding him hard enough that he reeled back, hand pressed to his cheek.
“Fucking bitch,” Aaron growled. “I leave for three weeks and you let the flat go to hell.” He slapped Michael again. “Clean this crap up, then strip and get to bed.” All before Michael had so much as a chance to say hello.
“Sorry,” Michael said softly, numbly beginning to tidy the living room. By the time he had the flat as clean as he could get it without steam-cleaning the carpets, he was too tired to even bother with eating, let alone interested in sex.
Not that that mattered to Aaron. He took Michael with even less prep than usual, ignoring that Michael was soft, and shoved in hard enough that Michael cried out. “That’s it, bitch. Take it all. You like it, don’t you? Fucking cocksucker. You’re a slut. Begging to be fucked. Been waiting for it the whole time I’ve been gone. Wanting it.”
Yeah, but not like that. When it was over, Aaron rolled over on his side of the bed, completely ignoring Michael. Fine with him. Michael curled in on himself, trying to figure out what had gone so wrong, how he’d gotten Aaron so angry.
The next day was a Saturday, and Michael woke up to a cool, wet cloth being pressed to his cheek. “Sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard. Just a little drunk and angry,” Aaron said quietly.
Michael blinked, then smiled up at him. “It’s okay, Aaron. I should have cleaned up.”
Aaron smiled back, leaning in to kiss him. “Come on. Get up and we’ll have breakfast.”
Which translated into Michael making breakfast, or trying to, until Aaron pinned him back against the counter, grinding against him. “Suck me,” Aaron ordered lowly, and Michael dropped to his knees without hesitating, stroking himself through his boxers as he sucked Aaron off. As soon as he finished swallowing, Aaron pulled him back to his feet, leaving Michael with an erection and nothing he could do about it. “Hurry up. I’m hungry.” He swatted Michael’s ass as he turned away, making him jump slightly.
The night before Aaron was supposed to fly out again, Michael got caught up at work, immersed in putting together a profile on a group of suspected Albanian gangsters. He forgot to call and let Aaron know he’d be back late, which he regretted as soon as he got back to their building. Completely his fault, he knew.
“I’m sorry,” he said as soon as he was in the door. “I didn’t mean to, I just-”
Aaron didn’t let him finish. “Strip,” he growled. Michael couldn’t smell any alcohol that time, and he did as he was told, bewildered. That ended when Aaron grabbed his ear and hauled him over to the couch, shoving him to lean over the back. Michael heard a low hissing sound, and then something slim and flexible bit into his ass. He yelped, trying to twist away, but Aaron didn’t stop, the next blow landing along his hip and curling into his stomach, and he cried out again, moving back to lay against the back of the couch and hope it would be over soon. By the time the belt stopped landing against his skin, Michael had given up on apologizing and begging, reduced to sobs and whimpers.
“Look at you,” Aaron said, sounding disgusted. “Bawling bitch. Can’t even take that like a man, can you? Fucking pussy.” He twisted his hand in Michael’s hair, pulling him down to his knees. “Can’t shut up that crying long enough to suck me, can you?” He freed his cock and began wanking, aiming straight at Michael’s face. “Should fuck you,” he panted. “Really make you sorry for forgetting to call. Fucking cunt. Suck me. Nice and wet.”
“Aaron…” Michael pleaded. “Please. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
Aaron yanked his head back cruelly. “I said suck me. Or I’ll take you dry.”
Michael froze for a moment, long enough for Aaron to shrug and start hauling him back up. Realizing he’d do it, Michael took his cock in his mouth immediately, getting him as wet as he could before Aaron pulled him off. “Back over the couch. Spread your ass.”
Michael did as he was told and winced at the pain. “Aaron…” he tried one last time, and very nearly screamed when Aaron’s hand landed solidly on the welts.
“Shut up,” Aaron hissed. “Shut up and take it, bitch. Have it coming. Fucking around instead of getting home when I tell you to.” He thrust in hard and Michael cried out, earning a cuff to the head. “What’d I tell you?”
“Sh…shut up,” Michael whimpered.
“Shut up what?” Aaron demanded, thrusting again.
“Shut up a…and take it,” he gasped, trying not to cry out again.
Aaron hit his ass again. “Christ, you’re stupid. How the fuck did I end up with such an idiot? Shut up and take it what?”
Michael closed his eyes, tears running down his face. “Shut up and take it, bitch.”
“There you go. You stupid cunt, why’re you in trouble? You know this one.” Aaron kept thrusting, and Michael felt like he was being ripped in two.
“I didn’t get home when you said,” he said miserably.
“You deserve it, don’t you? Need it, bitch. Only way you’re gonna learn. Fucking cocksucker. Only good for fucking. Should rent you out, make you suck off whoever I want. Be good for that.” Aaron kept it up, relentless.
Before he came, he pulled out, and Michael briefly thought he’d had enough. Until he heard Aaron grunting and the distinctive sound of wanking, just before something hot and wet hit the welts on his ass, making him cry out again and earning him another vicious slap.
“You just can’t get it through that thick skull, can you?”
Michael stayed over the couch for a few long moments, not trusting himself to walk. He heard the pop of a beer bottle cap being removed, smelled the hops as Aaron circled the couch and crouched in front of him, cupping his cheek. Michael didn’t dare jerk away.
“I love you, honey,” Aaron said. “You’ve just got to learn to be good.”
“I’m sorry,” Michael whispered. “I love you. I’ll be good.”
“Good. Now go clean up. I’ll cook this time.”
After Aaron flew out, Michael missed him fiercely. Yeah, he was sore, and sitting down for long ached, but he’d deserved it. He should have just done what Aaron said. So the day Aaron was supposed to fly back home, Michael got home early, putting together dinner and doing some last-minute cleaning. He didn’t even hear the door or realize Aaron was home until arms slid around his waist and Aaron kissed his neck.
“Hey, honey,” he murmured. “Smells great.”
Michael smiled, leaning back into him. “I missed you.”
“Big girl.” Aaron turned him for a deep kiss. “How long until dinner? I’m starved.”
“About ten minutes.” Not long enough for anything.
“Were you good while I was gone?” Aaron obviously had an answer in mind. Michael just didn’t know what it was.
“I think so.” Uncertain, sure, but he didn’t know what Aaron wanted.
“You think so,” Aaron repeated. “Just to be sure…” He spun Michael toward the counter and forced him forward, reaching around to unfasten Michael’s pants and drop them.
Michael squirmed ineffectually against him. “No, Aaron, I was good. I promise!”
“Well, if you promise.” That didn’t stop Aaron from hitting him through his boxers. “Just my hand, then.”
Apparently, the ten minutes until dinner was done was long enough to break Michael down to pleas and tears. He didn’t even know what he could have done that time to deserve it. At least Aaron was relatively gentle that night, even taking Michael in missionary position instead of from behind-Michael couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that. Maybe never.
“I love you,” Michael said softly after.
“I know, honey,” Aaron muttered. “I love you too. Go to sleep.”
Aaron didn’t love him enough, apparently, since Michael got home early one day to find Aaron in his chair, an unfamiliar slim boy kneeling between his legs and sucking him off. Michael inhaled sharply, retreating to the door. He automatically stopped when Aaron snapped, “You go and you’ll regret it.” Aaron pushed the boy off and tucked himself back into his pants. “Get in the bedroom, Michael.” When Michael didn’t move, Aaron growled, “Now.”
Michael was far too used to and afraid of that tone to not move, and he stumbled into the bedroom, trying to figure out what was going on and why. Why was Aaron cheating?
He heard indistinct murmurs from the living room, and then a high protest, broken by the cracking sound of flesh on flesh. Moments later, the door opened and closed, and Michael sank down on the bed, shaking. Did he do something? Was it his fault?
It must have been, because Aaron grabbed him by the chin when he got into the room, jerking his head upward. “That doesn’t concern you. Do you understand me?”
“Aaron, why-” He broke off when Aaron lifted his hand threateningly. “Yes,” he said meekly. “I understand.”
“Good.” Aaron tossed the pillows into a pile in the middle of the bed. “Take off your pants and lay over that.”
“But I didn’t-”
“You were going to leave,” Aaron interrupted. “That’s bad.”
“No,” Michael said defiantly. “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who was cheating.” If he’d been less rattled, he probably wouldn’t have argued. Just gone along with it.
In seconds, Michael found himself on the bed anyway, a bruise rising on his cheek and Aaron’s belt hitting him. He didn’t just stay with Michael’s ass that time, going for his thighs as well-which made Michael cry out every time the belt hit. At least his legs were together, not spread.
“I told you, bitch,” Aaron ground out. “Not your concern. Try listening sometime, you stupid cunt.” He squeezed Michael’s ass roughly. “Not sore enough yet?”
“I am,” Michael whimpered. “I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise. Won’t leave. Won’t get into something that doesn’t concern me.”
Not like that would stop Aaron. Not until he had Michael broken. It probably said something that Michael knew the pattern so well.
After, when Michael was in a cool shower, trying to relieve the pain, he decided to leave. Not while Aaron was there-that’d end with worse than welts and one lone burn from a cigarette pressed high on the inside of his thigh. He couldn’t keep doing this. And Aaron had cheated.
So the next time Aaron left on an assignment, Michael quietly bought a house on the beach, paying extra to speed up the closing. Just days before he was due back, Michael finished moving into his new house-his safe house, where he could get home whenever he wanted, cook what he wanted, leave it as messy as he wanted.
It took him years after that to get into a real relationship with a guy. Women, fine-they were no threat. And one-night stands worked, too. That was all Johnny was supposed to be, at first-one night, no strings. But it got away from him, evolved all on its own, until they were living together and settled into their roles. It felt natural with Johnny, not forced or threatening. It felt right.
© 2006.
Author: hawkeyecat
Character or Pairing: Aaron Matthews; Michael Chatman; mention of Johnny Corlioni
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Abuse; gay male relationship; possibly contains triggers; dubious consent and non-consensual sex; crude language.
Claimer: All characters contained herein are original and not borrowed from any television shows, movies, or other media. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Prompt and Community: 052. Force; 100_situations
Word Count: 2,668
Beta(s): sarcasticsra
Author's Notes: Inspired by a comment from cerieblue819. For reasons I don't know, 100_situations has been suspended. That's not going to stop me from posting for it, however.
Michael had been in exactly one relationship with a guy before Johnny. Sure, he’d fucked (okay, been fucked by) more, but there was one he’d lived with, one he’d loved.
He met Aaron at an intelligence meeting. The new guy, Michael hadn’t been out of the Navy long when he was hired, and he was still trying to figure out how he fit in. Not to mention the pesky issue of whether he was gay or straight or somewhere in between. Sure, there’d been girls, but he’d had sex with a couple of guys. Liked that a hell of a lot more than he’d expected.
Aaron was the only one to approach him after the meeting, and Michael couldn’t help but notice his dark eyes, strong build (little taller than Michael), friendly smile. “You’re new, aren’t you? Aaron Matthews. Been here a couple of years. I can show you the ropes.”
Michael honestly couldn’t tell if Aaron was flirting or just being friendly. Either way, he shook the offered hand. “Michael Chase. Appreciate it, mate. Different from the Navy. It takes getting used to.”
“You were Navy?” Aaron asked, interested. “Ex-Army myself. Not too much of a change, once you get the hang of the paperwork. You supposed to be a desk jockey or field?”
“Desk for six months. The higher-ups want me in the field fast-did some intelligence work for the Navy. You?”
“I’m field. Back here recovering from a shoulder gunshot and a couple of broken ribs. There are some people you don’t mess with,” Aaron said darkly.
Michael was about to ask when he remembered it was probably classified, and his clearance sucked so far. Only his second day, after all.
“Come on,” Aaron added. “I’ll show you the forms, filing system, that kind of thing.”
Aaron was true to his word, and by the time Michael had finally started feeling comfortable with how things worked, he was positive Aaron was flirting with him. The glances down at his groin had helped with that.
“You want to go out for drinks?” Aaron asked at the end of the day. “Just between friends.”
Michael didn’t particularly want it to be just between friends. “Sure, mate. Sounds great.”
Apparently, Aaron’s definition of “just friends” was radically different than Michael’s, since they wound up in Aaron’s flat, Michael pinned against the front door with Aaron’s tongue in his mouth. Not that Michael was complaining.
Aaron was rougher in bed than Michael was used to, taking him hard from behind and talking dirty the whole time. Not degrading Michael, exactly, more of, “You like my cock up your ass, don’t you? Like it hard and fast. You’re fucking tight, Mikey. Have to fuck you again, take this ass much as I can. Bet you like toys. Like being watched while you fuck yourself. While you jerk off.” He didn’t give Michael a reach-around and didn’t let him touch himself until after he’d pulled out. Being watched while he jerked off was humiliating and shameful and more of a turn-on than Michael had ever thought possible.
They never really had a proper date. Usually, it was drinks followed by rough sex, or just rough sex. Not that Michael had a problem with that. And it wasn’t like it was all about the sex-they’d talk after the sex sometimes, and often at the office. By the time they’d been together for a month and a half, Aaron was about to leave on an assignment, and he decided they should move in together before he left. Michael didn’t argue, and that night, they had sex in their bed for the first time.
While Aaron was gone-England, from what Michael could gather-things went well for a couple of weeks. But three days before Aaron was due back, three agents were killed in America, one each in New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago, linked only by the vast mob family they were infiltrating and the methodical executions, and the office erupted in collating everything they knew and getting agents into deeper covers before more could die at Mafia hands. So Michael didn’t have a chance to clean up the apartment, let alone get together dinner for Aaron. In fact, he wasn’t even thinking about Aaron when he let himself in, not until Aaron rose from his chair. Michael started to smile at the sight and barely had a chance to register the empty beer bottles by the chair before Aaron hit him, backhanding him hard enough that he reeled back, hand pressed to his cheek.
“Fucking bitch,” Aaron growled. “I leave for three weeks and you let the flat go to hell.” He slapped Michael again. “Clean this crap up, then strip and get to bed.” All before Michael had so much as a chance to say hello.
“Sorry,” Michael said softly, numbly beginning to tidy the living room. By the time he had the flat as clean as he could get it without steam-cleaning the carpets, he was too tired to even bother with eating, let alone interested in sex.
Not that that mattered to Aaron. He took Michael with even less prep than usual, ignoring that Michael was soft, and shoved in hard enough that Michael cried out. “That’s it, bitch. Take it all. You like it, don’t you? Fucking cocksucker. You’re a slut. Begging to be fucked. Been waiting for it the whole time I’ve been gone. Wanting it.”
Yeah, but not like that. When it was over, Aaron rolled over on his side of the bed, completely ignoring Michael. Fine with him. Michael curled in on himself, trying to figure out what had gone so wrong, how he’d gotten Aaron so angry.
The next day was a Saturday, and Michael woke up to a cool, wet cloth being pressed to his cheek. “Sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard. Just a little drunk and angry,” Aaron said quietly.
Michael blinked, then smiled up at him. “It’s okay, Aaron. I should have cleaned up.”
Aaron smiled back, leaning in to kiss him. “Come on. Get up and we’ll have breakfast.”
Which translated into Michael making breakfast, or trying to, until Aaron pinned him back against the counter, grinding against him. “Suck me,” Aaron ordered lowly, and Michael dropped to his knees without hesitating, stroking himself through his boxers as he sucked Aaron off. As soon as he finished swallowing, Aaron pulled him back to his feet, leaving Michael with an erection and nothing he could do about it. “Hurry up. I’m hungry.” He swatted Michael’s ass as he turned away, making him jump slightly.
The night before Aaron was supposed to fly out again, Michael got caught up at work, immersed in putting together a profile on a group of suspected Albanian gangsters. He forgot to call and let Aaron know he’d be back late, which he regretted as soon as he got back to their building. Completely his fault, he knew.
“I’m sorry,” he said as soon as he was in the door. “I didn’t mean to, I just-”
Aaron didn’t let him finish. “Strip,” he growled. Michael couldn’t smell any alcohol that time, and he did as he was told, bewildered. That ended when Aaron grabbed his ear and hauled him over to the couch, shoving him to lean over the back. Michael heard a low hissing sound, and then something slim and flexible bit into his ass. He yelped, trying to twist away, but Aaron didn’t stop, the next blow landing along his hip and curling into his stomach, and he cried out again, moving back to lay against the back of the couch and hope it would be over soon. By the time the belt stopped landing against his skin, Michael had given up on apologizing and begging, reduced to sobs and whimpers.
“Look at you,” Aaron said, sounding disgusted. “Bawling bitch. Can’t even take that like a man, can you? Fucking pussy.” He twisted his hand in Michael’s hair, pulling him down to his knees. “Can’t shut up that crying long enough to suck me, can you?” He freed his cock and began wanking, aiming straight at Michael’s face. “Should fuck you,” he panted. “Really make you sorry for forgetting to call. Fucking cunt. Suck me. Nice and wet.”
“Aaron…” Michael pleaded. “Please. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
Aaron yanked his head back cruelly. “I said suck me. Or I’ll take you dry.”
Michael froze for a moment, long enough for Aaron to shrug and start hauling him back up. Realizing he’d do it, Michael took his cock in his mouth immediately, getting him as wet as he could before Aaron pulled him off. “Back over the couch. Spread your ass.”
Michael did as he was told and winced at the pain. “Aaron…” he tried one last time, and very nearly screamed when Aaron’s hand landed solidly on the welts.
“Shut up,” Aaron hissed. “Shut up and take it, bitch. Have it coming. Fucking around instead of getting home when I tell you to.” He thrust in hard and Michael cried out, earning a cuff to the head. “What’d I tell you?”
“Sh…shut up,” Michael whimpered.
“Shut up what?” Aaron demanded, thrusting again.
“Shut up a…and take it,” he gasped, trying not to cry out again.
Aaron hit his ass again. “Christ, you’re stupid. How the fuck did I end up with such an idiot? Shut up and take it what?”
Michael closed his eyes, tears running down his face. “Shut up and take it, bitch.”
“There you go. You stupid cunt, why’re you in trouble? You know this one.” Aaron kept thrusting, and Michael felt like he was being ripped in two.
“I didn’t get home when you said,” he said miserably.
“You deserve it, don’t you? Need it, bitch. Only way you’re gonna learn. Fucking cocksucker. Only good for fucking. Should rent you out, make you suck off whoever I want. Be good for that.” Aaron kept it up, relentless.
Before he came, he pulled out, and Michael briefly thought he’d had enough. Until he heard Aaron grunting and the distinctive sound of wanking, just before something hot and wet hit the welts on his ass, making him cry out again and earning him another vicious slap.
“You just can’t get it through that thick skull, can you?”
Michael stayed over the couch for a few long moments, not trusting himself to walk. He heard the pop of a beer bottle cap being removed, smelled the hops as Aaron circled the couch and crouched in front of him, cupping his cheek. Michael didn’t dare jerk away.
“I love you, honey,” Aaron said. “You’ve just got to learn to be good.”
“I’m sorry,” Michael whispered. “I love you. I’ll be good.”
“Good. Now go clean up. I’ll cook this time.”
After Aaron flew out, Michael missed him fiercely. Yeah, he was sore, and sitting down for long ached, but he’d deserved it. He should have just done what Aaron said. So the day Aaron was supposed to fly back home, Michael got home early, putting together dinner and doing some last-minute cleaning. He didn’t even hear the door or realize Aaron was home until arms slid around his waist and Aaron kissed his neck.
“Hey, honey,” he murmured. “Smells great.”
Michael smiled, leaning back into him. “I missed you.”
“Big girl.” Aaron turned him for a deep kiss. “How long until dinner? I’m starved.”
“About ten minutes.” Not long enough for anything.
“Were you good while I was gone?” Aaron obviously had an answer in mind. Michael just didn’t know what it was.
“I think so.” Uncertain, sure, but he didn’t know what Aaron wanted.
“You think so,” Aaron repeated. “Just to be sure…” He spun Michael toward the counter and forced him forward, reaching around to unfasten Michael’s pants and drop them.
Michael squirmed ineffectually against him. “No, Aaron, I was good. I promise!”
“Well, if you promise.” That didn’t stop Aaron from hitting him through his boxers. “Just my hand, then.”
Apparently, the ten minutes until dinner was done was long enough to break Michael down to pleas and tears. He didn’t even know what he could have done that time to deserve it. At least Aaron was relatively gentle that night, even taking Michael in missionary position instead of from behind-Michael couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that. Maybe never.
“I love you,” Michael said softly after.
“I know, honey,” Aaron muttered. “I love you too. Go to sleep.”
Aaron didn’t love him enough, apparently, since Michael got home early one day to find Aaron in his chair, an unfamiliar slim boy kneeling between his legs and sucking him off. Michael inhaled sharply, retreating to the door. He automatically stopped when Aaron snapped, “You go and you’ll regret it.” Aaron pushed the boy off and tucked himself back into his pants. “Get in the bedroom, Michael.” When Michael didn’t move, Aaron growled, “Now.”
Michael was far too used to and afraid of that tone to not move, and he stumbled into the bedroom, trying to figure out what was going on and why. Why was Aaron cheating?
He heard indistinct murmurs from the living room, and then a high protest, broken by the cracking sound of flesh on flesh. Moments later, the door opened and closed, and Michael sank down on the bed, shaking. Did he do something? Was it his fault?
It must have been, because Aaron grabbed him by the chin when he got into the room, jerking his head upward. “That doesn’t concern you. Do you understand me?”
“Aaron, why-” He broke off when Aaron lifted his hand threateningly. “Yes,” he said meekly. “I understand.”
“Good.” Aaron tossed the pillows into a pile in the middle of the bed. “Take off your pants and lay over that.”
“But I didn’t-”
“You were going to leave,” Aaron interrupted. “That’s bad.”
“No,” Michael said defiantly. “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who was cheating.” If he’d been less rattled, he probably wouldn’t have argued. Just gone along with it.
In seconds, Michael found himself on the bed anyway, a bruise rising on his cheek and Aaron’s belt hitting him. He didn’t just stay with Michael’s ass that time, going for his thighs as well-which made Michael cry out every time the belt hit. At least his legs were together, not spread.
“I told you, bitch,” Aaron ground out. “Not your concern. Try listening sometime, you stupid cunt.” He squeezed Michael’s ass roughly. “Not sore enough yet?”
“I am,” Michael whimpered. “I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise. Won’t leave. Won’t get into something that doesn’t concern me.”
Not like that would stop Aaron. Not until he had Michael broken. It probably said something that Michael knew the pattern so well.
After, when Michael was in a cool shower, trying to relieve the pain, he decided to leave. Not while Aaron was there-that’d end with worse than welts and one lone burn from a cigarette pressed high on the inside of his thigh. He couldn’t keep doing this. And Aaron had cheated.
So the next time Aaron left on an assignment, Michael quietly bought a house on the beach, paying extra to speed up the closing. Just days before he was due back, Michael finished moving into his new house-his safe house, where he could get home whenever he wanted, cook what he wanted, leave it as messy as he wanted.
It took him years after that to get into a real relationship with a guy. Women, fine-they were no threat. And one-night stands worked, too. That was all Johnny was supposed to be, at first-one night, no strings. But it got away from him, evolved all on its own, until they were living together and settled into their roles. It felt natural with Johnny, not forced or threatening. It felt right.
© 2006.