Final Debt

by Pepper Winters

  Some of us squandered it.

  Others muddied it to the point of no redemption, but most of us appreciated the small present we’d been given and were grateful for it—no matter how lowly or high, rich or poor, easy or hard.

  We existed, and that was a wondrous thing.

  I’d never truly understood just how grateful I was.

  But I did now.

  As I lay in an in-between world where pain, death, or even time couldn’t reach me, I had endless space to evaluate and understand. I’d existed as more than just a man, more than a brother, or friend, or son.

  I’d existed because I made a difference to those I loved.

  I cherished my sister.

  I helped my brother.

  And I did my best to remain true to the soul inside me rather than outside influences trying to change me.

  I existed truthfully and that was all that mattered.

  I wouldn’t lie and say I didn’t miss him. I missed the relationships with those I cared about. I missed my home, my possessions, my future. I missed worldly items because I knew I’d never see them again.

  Jethro hadn’t been easy to love. He’d been the cause of my sister’s pain, my hard childhood. He’d been…difficult. But he’d also been the most loyal, loving, coolest brother I could’ve ever asked for.

  He’d earned forgiveness for his issues. And I liked to think I’d played my part in helping him become a better person—a person who could live an easier life with his condition.

  My time was over; my existence almost done.

  And although I was sad to go, I wasn’t afraid.

  Because I existed.

  And because I existed, I could never un-exist.

  I would move on. I would transcend. I would grow and change and magnify to the point of whatever new experience awaited me. I would see those I loved again but not for a while.

  And that was okay, too.

  So I waited in my in-between world, listening to silence, hovering in nothingness, just waiting for the right time. I didn’t know how I would know. I didn’t know why I waited. But something kept me tethered to a world I no longer belonged to.

  Until one day, I felt it.

  The snip.

  The silence turned to sublime music, the nothingness turned to warmth, and contentment blanketed with permission to leave. I knew he would be okay. I knew she would be okay. The family who persevered would be okay.

  My father was dead.

  Bonnie was dead.

  Daniel was dead.

  Evil had finally perished in my house.

  And Jethro no longer needed me.

  It took no effort, not even a sigh or conscious thought.

  I just…let…go.

  He had her.

  He had her.

  He had his very existence.

  Nila would be there for him now.

  He no longer needed my help.

  I smiled, sending love to both of them, goodbye to everyone, and so long to a world that’d been briefly mine.

  Jethro has found his reason for breathing.

  It was time for me to find mine.

  Goodbye…

  JETHRO CAME FOR me at daybreak.

  His icy touch woke me, trailing over my cheek to my lips.

  I’d waited for as long as I could. I’d remained vigil by the window, imploring him to return. I’d paced thick grooves into the carpet, forcing myself to stay awake.

  But I’d failed.

  Jasmine left around midnight, and my body shut down soon after. Even opening the window and enduring the chilly gale couldn’t fight sleep from claiming me.

  After the fourth stumble and micro nap almost plummeting me to the floor, I reluctantly climbed into bed and slipped instantly into dreams. Good dreams. Bad dreams. Dreams of death and destruction then love and liveliness.

  “Nila…”

  His voice slinked around my soul, yanking me from slumber and delivering me directly into his control. My eyes shot wide, drinking him in. The dawn light barely illuminated my room, shyly warming the carpet and windowsill with promise of a new day.

  I sat up on my elbows, cursing the sudden swirl and lack of sleep fogging my reflexes. For a moment, I couldn’t see him, then his form solidified beside me.

  Physically, he was in one piece. Tall and strong. Vibrant and majestic.

  He stood silently, gazing intently. His eyes became fireworks in the gloom, sparking over my skin.

  My gaze fell from his strained face over his chiselled chest to his half-hard cock. He stood naked. Not in a sexual manner but stripped back, bared¸ undressed and nude. Laying his horror, harrowing evening, and every haggard emotion at my feet.

  His skin gleamed a white alabaster—looking as if he’d become a nocturnal being, an immortal monster.

  Tears leapt to my eyes, understanding the brink of where he stood. He’d done things he wasn’t proud of. He’d done things he was proud of. And ultimately, he’d come to me with nothing, leaving the past behind, asking me to forgive, forget, and help grant absolution he so desperately needed.

  Sitting higher in bed, I nodded at his silent requests.

  Why is he wet?

  His discarded, sodden clothes stained the emerald carpet; his chest rising and falling as if he’d run a marathon. His eyes were wild. His hair wet and tangled. And his smell spoke of everything he’d done and done alone.

  Copper for blood.

  Soot for fire.

  Metal for weapons.

  And salt for sadness.

  We didn’t speak.

  He was on the precipice of breaking.

  I was the strong one in this dawn-lit moment. I was the one who had to save him.

  I’ve got you.

  Soaring upward, I scrambled out of the covers and kneeled before him. Silently, I wrapped my arms around his quaking shoulders. I’d removed the sling before falling asleep and my cast rasped against his soft skin.

  I hadn’t taken my shift off and the iciness of his body thawed into mine, delivering snow storms and blizzards the longer I held him.

  He’s so cold.

  I hugged him harder, begging him to respond.

  But he just stood there, trembling, shivering, his breath scattering hot and cold into my hair as I nuzzled against his chest. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.”

  Pressing warm lips against his frigid shoulder, I crawled on my knees closer to his marble-like form.

  A gasp escaped him as I smoothed back his hair, kissing my way up his neck to his ear. “You’re with me now. Feel how much I love you. Concentrate on how happy I am that you’re back.”

  I never stopped kissing him, stroking him, willing him to come back to life. “Jethro, focus. Forget everything. Let me in.”

  Suddenly, his back bent, and he sagged in my hold. His arms flew around me, crippling me against his hard muscles. I didn’t speak, but his soul screamed for help.

  I let him hold me. I let him shake and shudder.

  Time held no meaning as we existed in each other’s embrace and fed each other with love and togetherness. I would hold him for the rest of my life and ensure he never felt anything but acceptance, adoration, and unconditional love.

  “It’s okay.” My voice hung around us, glittering like fireflies, warming up his ice-ridden body. “I love you. I’m here for you. Feel what I feel. Live in how much you mean to me.”

  With a loud groan, Jethro scooped me from the bed. His arms bunched around me, cradling me gently as he carried me toward the bathroom.

  My broken arm rested in my lap as I permitted him to do whatever he needed. I wouldn’t fear him. I wouldn’t question him or give him any reason to sense hesitation or unwillingness.

  He wasn’t well. His strength had reached depletion, but something drove him onward. Something he needed to abolish to find peace.

  I was his. He was mine.

  I would be his everything until he’d gathered his scattered psyche and returned to me.

 
; Silently, Jethro traded the room for the shower. The same shower where he’d caught me with the water jet between my legs. The same bathroom where I finally knew I was falling for him, despite everything.

  Silently, he turned on the hot spray and walked directly under it.

  My dress became instantly sodden, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was reanimating my lover, protector, husband-to-be by any means necessary. Cupping his nape, I pulled his face toward mine.

  He didn’t fight me as our lips met.

  He sucked in a tattered breath as I licked his bottom lip, worshipping him sweetly. His eyes closed, his arms gathered me closer, and the world became just us, water, and steam.

  Opening his mouth, his tongue met mine hesitantly, apologetically.

  I hated that he’d forgotten our promises and commitment. That he didn’t trust my vow to marry him. That he wasn’t sure I could love him after tonight.

  Holding his neck tighter, I pressed our lips together harder.

  He groaned as I tasted his sadness, licking away his worry, replacing it with welcoming passion.

  Slowly, he responded. The ache inside him unfurled, the pressure and stress siphoning down the drain as more droplets cascaded over us. Our heartbeats communicated in-tune with worded confessions.

  “I killed him.”

  “I know.”

  “I hated him.”

  “I know.”

  “But I loved him, too.”

  “I understand.”

  His tongue teased my bottom lip. His heart cracked open and poured everything he’d done.

  “I hurt him.”

  “He deserved it.”

  “I liked it.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “I loathed it.”

  “That’s okay, too.”

  “Did he deserve it?”

  “Yes, he deserved to pay.”

  “He asked for forgiveness.”

  “Did you give it?”

  “Yes.

  “Oh, Kite…” I kissed him harder, our lips turning from dancing to fighting.

  “He apologised.”

  “He should.”

  “He regretted his actions.”

  “Good.”

  “In the end, he was the father I always knew he could be.”

  “It’s over now.”

  Jethro dropped me to my feet, crushing me against the tiles. My cast was drenched, but I had no concerns apart from Jethro. My dress clung to me, highlighting straining nipples, and the fact I had no underwear on beneath the shift.

  Jethro tore his lips away from mine, staring at me. In my hold, he slowly came alive, shedding the holocaust and returning to me. He fell forward, trapping me between the tile and his nakedness.

  The moment our tongues met again, our hearts shouted louder and louder. The more our souls conversed, the more violent and awake he became.

  “I miss him.”

  “You can miss the man but not the monster.”

  “I shouldn’t have hurt him.”

  “He hurt you.”

  “I should’ve been stronger to save you.”

  “You did save me.”

  He groaned as my hands shot into his hair, jerking hard. I didn’t want him spiralling into self-hatred. Cut wasn’t worth that. I’d set aside my hatred; I’d granted forgiveness. But I wouldn’t let Cut’s shadow ruin Jethro’s hard-earned future.

  I touched him. “You saved my life. More than once.”

  “I was almost too late.”

  “But you weren’t. You made it.”

  “I should’ve saved you the first time I saw you.”

  “You did save me.”

  “How?”

  “You fell in love with me.”

  His hands coasted up my sides, tearing at my drenched clothes. My hair plastered to my cheeks as his fingers tore at the neckline of my dress, ripping it down the centre.

  Dropping to his knees, he yanked the material down my wet body until we stood naked under the steaming stream.

  We hadn’t turned on any lights and the window barricaded the watery attempt at dawn. Our bodies were Braille as our fingers tracked and touched.

  His skin glowed white in the grey morning. His eyes such a vibrant bright.

  Standing, Jethro grabbed my hips and guided us under the spray. His mouth claimed mine—desperate, hungry.

  We drank water and each other, kissing, always kissing. Touching, forever touching.

  There was no soap, but his hands covered every inch of me, washing away the past, the murder, the last few hours.

  I repaid the favour, massaging his tense shoulders, his rigid spine, the knots in his lower back. I sluiced water over his bruises and cuts, willing the warmth to knit him back to whole.

  My broken arm nullified any pressure I might’ve granted with my fingers, but I refused to let it hang uselessly by my side.

  I forced every inch of me—parts unhurt and parts in pain—to heal him, love him, bring him back into the light.

  Tugging his hair, I pulled his lips from mine.

  His eyes narrowed but he didn’t speak.

  Tracing his mouth with my fingertip, I smiled as he nipped me gently.

  Dropping my touch from his face, down his throat and chest, I didn’t stop as my fingers traced muscles, dipping between his legs.

  The moment my hand latched around his cock, a guttural growl tumbled from his lips. He reached for my cheeks, to kiss me, devour me, but I shook my head and dropped to my knees before him.

  My broken arm rested on my thigh while my strong hand stroked him, encouraging his cock to swell and harden.

  His stomach tensed, every muscle shadowed with need. His mouth fell open as his head fell back and he gripped the tiled wall for balance.

  My attention fell to his stiffening erection. The fact his thoughts swam with desire pleased me so much. He gave me power over him. He let me take the memories and replace them with us.

  Not only would we wash away whatever he’d committed tonight, but also the blood of the past, the unjust repayments of debts, and the dusty plains of Africa.

  His cock fully swelled as his thoughts switched from self-preservation to sex.

  I smiled, taking his long, thick length into my mouth.

  His hand fell heavily on my head, fingers threading through my hair as I swallowed more of his cock, welcoming his musky heat onto my tongue.

  I worshipped him, giving him everything that I was. My tongue swirled, teasing and adoring. His balls tightened, gathering closer to his body as I gave him what he needed.

  He needed to know I was okay. That we both were. That he would find no judgement here. That he was loved just as deeply as before.

  His hips pulsed in time with my bobbing head. My hand twisted and stroked, smearing saliva and shower water over his shaft. His hand gripped my hair harder then relaxed as if remembering to be gentle.

  I didn’t want him to remember anything. I wanted him so far gone, so in lust and consumed by desire he let go completely.

  I wanted to rule him.

  My pace increased, my tongue danced, spearing the sensitive crown and swallowing the saltiness of pre-cum.

  Slowly, his breathing changed from ragged and sad to tortured and turned on.

  His fingers jerked my hair, granting pleasurable pain as his other hand slapped loudly against the wall behind me, slipping and sliding, holding himself up while his hips worked faster into my mouth.

  My heart burst, knowing he’d finally found some relief from his thoughts.

  I closed my eyes and let him use me. I let his groans slip into my heart. I let his tugs and thrusts fill my soul.

  I didn’t know how long we stayed that way. Me at his feet and water raining all around but the tearful rage Jethro suffered finally faded, complex and unsolvable but faded nevertheless.

  My jaw ached; my tongue throbbed.

  However, I didn’t try to bring him to an orgasm. I only tried to keep him centred on me. Consumed by blis
s and able to find happiness after a nightmare.

  His hand suddenly left the wall, slinking with the one already in my hair. Looping fingers under my chin, he broke my mouth’s suction, pulling me away from his cock.

  His gaze obliterated me with such love and affection, I couldn’t breathe.

  “Nila…” His hands tucked under my arms, tugging me to my feet. “I need you.” His cock bounced against my lower belly as he hoisted me into his arms. He stumbled a little but kept me protected. His mouth captured mine, and for a blistering moment, he kissed me so damn hard, so damn feral, my core twisted with the beginnings of a release.

  His tongue was magic, granting me the same gift I’d tried to grant him, ensuring all I thought about, all I needed was him.

  Breathing hard, he tore his lips from mine and swayed weakly from the shower.

  I didn’t say anything.

  There were no appropriate words as he reached back to turn off the spray and grabbed a towel from the rail. Placing the fluffy towel over my body, he hoisted me higher and marched back into the bedroom.

  A trail of dampness turned the green carpet almost black as he plopped me on my feet beside the bed and reverently placed the towel over my shoulders.

  The dawn gave way to weak sunshine. In the ever-brightening light, the scars of our trials became more apparent. My skin looked like a mismatched carousel: the bruises of Daniel’s kick and punches. The scratches from glass and car carnage. The shower-drenched cast of my arm.

  And Jethro.

  His body held shadows and secrets of what he’d survived to get to me. His hair covered the injury on his temple. His skin, now it wasn’t cold from trauma, radiated heat with the fever he needed to break. The gruesome red wound in his side was no longer hidden. The puckered skin where stitches had come undone wept, needing a doctor and healing.

  We each had our craters and defects from war.

  But we would wear them with pride because we’d won.

  And the moment our bodies had reconnected, I would find Flaw to help stop Jethro's fever. I would call a doctor to sew up his side. And I would hire the best team to ensure he had no long-term damages from the car accident in Africa.

  Jethro’s lips twitched. “I love feeling your thoughts. I love knowing you want to heal me even while your body demands I take you first.”