“I love you,” he blurted.
“Good.” Troy grinned, his smile so fuckingly bright Marshall thought he would go blind. “I love you to and I plan on keeping you right here with me. I don’t want you to leave.”
Marshall hadn’t realized the tears made their way down his face until Troy began to wipe them away, first with a thumb and then with his kisses.
“Shh. You’re safe. I’m not giving you up. Get that out of your head right now,” Troy stated.
He nodded as best as he could with Troy wrapped tightly around him. Jesus, how had he come to this?
“I’m not gonna run. It’s just been a long time since I’ve … since I’ve allowed myself to care about anything or anyone. With you I don’t have to pretend. I don’t feel like running and I don’t want to leave.” He pushed his hair back. “You keep the flashbacks from cutting me down, but I’m willing to go back to therapy if — if I can stay here.”
His answer was Troy’s mouth against his own. Troy’s tongue dueling with his till he was panting and getting hard.
“Not only can you stay here, but in this very room, in this bed. You keep my nightmares at bay, too. All I ask is that you’re patient with me. I can be possessive and sometimes have strange needs.”
Marshall stared at Troy when he finally admitted what he’d known all along. To his credit, he tried hard to respond in a serious manner. He really did, but then he just started laughing till he was almost hysterical.
“You? Nah, not you,” he laughed harder. “Mister OCD couldn’t be possessive. Not in the slightest bit. What’s strange about you? Besides your sex life?” The look on Troy’s face had him laughing harder. “I know how all those pulleys work for that cross so when I get you tied to it I can do what I want, but I am not calling you Master every damn day. You want that, we need a third in this funhouse. What?” He laughed harder. “No one else ever figured out your big bad secret?” He cleared his throat to get himself under control and sat up on the bed.
“I promise,” he said, “to do my damnedest to support your efforts to find the right submissive man who’s interested in threesomes when the time is right.” Marsh winked, reached out and tweaked Troy’s nipple before climbing off the bed. “Come on, lazy ass. Time to shower. You worked up my appetite. You need to feed me before more sex.”
“Feed you? If I remember right, you’re the better cook. I think you need to feed me asshole,” Troy teased. “Especially after what you just said. There will be no other.”
He couldn’t remember the last time someone teased him like this. It felt too fucking amazing. Something he would hang on to for as long as it lasted.
“Marsh, I need you to follow my directions when I give them.” Troy demanded. “I need to keep you safe.” Troy said, before stepping into the shower with him. “Don’t fuck with me on this please. I’m not talking about sex either. I deal with some shitty people who wouldn’t give two fucks about hurting you.”
He just stared, letting the spray hit him from all angles. No, this wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay with this bullshit. He could take care of himself and Troy knew it. “Bring me in.”
“What?”
“Bring me in on your team. Not every mission, but enough that you don’t have to worry.”
Silence.
A stare-down just like he’d expected. Troy could be a possessive bastard. He’d warned him and Tee was definitely living up to his potential as an asshole. Marshall turned away from Troy and began cleaning up. Troy would come around. He knew he would. How, well that part he couldn’t tell you, but he just knew the bastard would. Before he wouldn’t have, but now? Yeah. Whatever had changed between the two of them made him feel deep inside that Troy would agree to bringing him in on his team. Most likely on the guise he could watch him better. It was why he wanted to be on the team. Not just to feel useful again, but to watch Troy’s six. What a six to watch, he thought turning just in time to see the tattoo on Troy’s back. The banner read Reaper while the Angel of Death sat upon the so many skulls, they piled around him and trailed to each side. Fuck. If those skulls represent your kills — how do you keep their ghosts buried? Suddenly, Marshall needed to give himself space to breathe. He quickly climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist.
“I’m going to get breakfast started,” he raised his voice in order to be heard over the noise of the pounding water and walked out of Troy’s bathroom and bedroom to walk down the short hall to his own. Quickly dressing in sweats and a black t-shirt, he made his way to the kitchen but breakfast was already prepared. What the fuck?
“I have a housekeeper.” Troy’s deep voice startled him, but his arms banding around his waist brought a comfort he didn’t realize he needed. “He was a Somali in the nineties. Has a brain injury that gives him problems sometimes, but he functions just fine in the quiet. He is really a hell of a cook. You’ve been eating his food all week.” Troy kissed his neck and with his hand on the center of his lower back, directed him to the table.
“What’s this?” he asked, picking up the manila folder as he sat down. Flipping through the file, he read the accomplishments and awards Troy had received as well as concerns by paraprofessionals and professionals themselves.
“I read yours, thought it only fair you should read mine.”
He smiled at his friend and let his eyes show the depth of his emotions to Troy for allowing him to read the scraps of paper. What he was most interested in was Troy’s medical jacket and Marshall inhaled it all.
“Thank you,” he said quietly closing the folder. “I didn’t realize things were so fucked up for you. Do you still have times you think someone is following you?”
“All the fucking time.” Troy sighed and sat a cup of coffee in front of him. “It’s worse when I’m tired, but I’m working on it. I talk to someone about it. They also help with this program.”
“We’re a fucked-up pair.” Marshall sipped the java and added a sugar packet stirring as he thought. “You’ll talk to this person about us?”
“In general terms. They won’t know the intimate details. I just want to make sure that I’m doing the best I can for you,” Troy answered openly. “Just because I get off on seeing you with nipple clamps connected to your dick doesn’t mean it’s the best for your mental therapy.
“Good, because I can’t go back to what I was doing. That shit was killing me, but honestly, I don’t know if I can be submissive to you, either. Not totally. Being at your mercy is freeing and fucking hot. Not gonna lie, but I don’t know if it’s for me every time.” Marshall reached across the table, his hand palm up, an open invitation for Troy to take it.
“Fair enough, for now. I’ll just tattoo my property stamp on you, or as the song goes, put a ring on it and I’m not exactly talking about your finger,” he chuckled at the quizzical look on Marshall’s face. He wanted to laugh aloud Marsh finally got the innuendo. “I know how much I love you and I cannot lose you. I can’t even think about what might happen if I did,” he stated slipping his hand in Marshall’s waiting palm. “As for you joining the team, I’ll give Hornet a call. If she hasn’t chosen anyone, you can join us on this mission. Can’t say you’re ready for every mission yet,” Troy looked as if he were deep in thought for a moment before he continued. “Last night, we just bit the tip of the iceberg. You’ve a lot of things to go through. Coping mechanisms before you are truly ready, but I’ll be here with you for every step.”
Marshall nodded because he felt the same way. His throat closed up when he even thought about the possibility. He had to push down the idea just to breathe again.
“I know how you feel. I feel exactly the same way,” he stated.
“Thank God. If you’re done for now, I want to show you just how much love I have for you. There’s a pulley system which needs your bright baby blues looking at it.” Troy laughed, pulling him in for a hug. “We’ll save that for later. I don’t think you’re ready for it today, but I would like to try some therapy i
f you’re up for it.”
He stared at Tee, unsure if he were truly ready for this or not. The hopefulness in Troy’s tone of voice made him want to try, but truth was, he was scared shitless. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”
“I don’t want to force you into doing anything you’re not ready for, but I think you can handle it. It is simply a breathing exercise.”
“Isn’t that what they all say?” he joked.
“Damn straight. Now, we here we are career military and making asses out of ourselves.”
“Look at you ole man, getting all sentimental,” he loved the sound of Troy’s laughter. One thing the big man didn’t do enough of — laugh. Of course, if the way he tossed and turned was any indication, there were ghosts who visited him nightly making it nearly impossible to smile, let alone find anything funny.
Marshall spent most of the day by himself. Not that it was any big deal, but it left him to dwell on his own thoughts. Always a dangerous combination. After laughing his ass off watching The Golden Girls, he quickly got bored with the television options and switched to Netflix.
After binging on Riverdale until late afternoon, with Troy still holed up in his ‘office,’ he headed down to the gym to blow off steam. As it was, his skin felt too tight while he bobbed and weaved around the heavy-weight bag absorbing every punch he threw. His hair fought the band holding it together at the back of his head. The few curls which escaped were plastered against his head with sweat. It had been a month since he’d had anything stronger than a beer to drink, but God he’d love to get shitfaced about right now.
Now that he was clear headed, he realized that his last bender was over Mother’s Day weekend. When the dick-for-brains step-dad should have been paying the utmost respect to his mother not — no. He was not going to go down that road again. He was, however, going to let Troy know how he was feeling. Maybe they could talk it through. He owed him that.
“What did that bag do to you?” Troy’s deep bass reverberated throughout the room.
All he did was stare at Troy, his chest heaving from his exertions, the need to fuck or fight beginning to be overwhelming. Ants felt like they crawled under his skin and the room seemed smaller than it had before. In the next moment Tee was punching the button on his torture chamber, aka wall of toys, and eyeing him like he was going to explode.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked Troy. It pissed him the fuck off that those big arms were just crossed, legs shoulder length apart and his dark eyes just stared at him.
“I’m waiting for your answer,” Tee softly stated. “You never said what that bag did to offend you, or did I do something to piss you off?”
“You are now.” Maybe the honest answer will help ease the situation, he thought stepping away from bag. His vision narrowed though. He honed in on the sure as shit cock-of-the-walk way in which Troy stood. Just like those assholes with their aviators and eat-shit and die smirks. The kids cried when they were pulled from their siblings. He was sure the boys thought they would be put to death. The little girls — those little girls they needed to be protected, educated and given a chance not… “They didn’t deserve to be hurt and raped just because they were children of the enemy.”
“No, they did not,” Troy agreed stepping forward. “You didn’t hurt them Rico, you gave them a chance. No one else would have done that.”
He covered his ears, but the screams and crying continued. “So much blood. How could you do that to a little girl?” he accused anger lacing his tone.
“Listen to me. I didn’t hurt them; you didn’t hurt them. You saved so many of those kids,” Tee’s voice sounded close. Too close for his comfort and he brought his arm forward to quickly jab his elbow in what he hoped was Troy’s side, but he hit nothing but air. “Settle down, Rico. I don’t want to have to put you on the cross again.”
Rico laughed. His laughter mimicked that of the PMC soldier’s as his unit left those kids that fateful afternoon.
“Don’t lie to me Reaper, it’s where you like putting your victims. Is that how you really got your name? Tie people up and played dungeon Master with them? Sit down here in your leather and your whips and chains thinking you’re some big, bad Dom pushing everyone to their limits? Who pushes you to yours?” He knew instinctively not to ask, not to press the issue, but once his mouth got going, he couldn’t stop. He was back in that moment when the killing began. When it did, he didn’t stop until they were all dead. It didn’t matter to him whether they all participated or not. If they were there, they died. They should have been a whistleblower from the fucking beginning if they had wanted to live.
With his mind wandering for that fraction of a moment, it allowed Troy to take advantage. A mistake he couldn’t afford to make again. He found himself handcuffed to cross before he could do much about it.
“Fuck you, Tee. Proving my point aren’t you!” Rico shouted. It irritated him that his lover remained silent. He knew he’d gone too far with his comments. He’d wanted a fight; needed a fight and been denied, but he sure as hell kicked. A wide leather strap came down hard on his shin. “Son of a bitch!” That leg was pulled to the side and fastened into the ankle-cuff before Troy did the same to the other. “What the fuck are you doing? Just go a few rounds with me in the ring, you bastard.” He tried to catch Tee’s gaze, but the man was focused on making sure his bucking body couldn’t move. More straps were added to his upper thighs, then one across his hips and chest.
Finally, the man who starred in every X-rated dream he ever had looked into his soul. Rico felt afraid. It was as if Tee could see every thought, he’d had in the last twenty-four hours.
“Are you going to start taking pictures now?” Rico’s smart-assed mouth couldn’t help but ask.
“No. I’m going to gag that dirty talk, for now. When you learn to calm down, I’ll remove it.”
“Go to hel — ,” he didn’t get a chance to finish what he wanted to say because Troy shoved a small ball gag in his mouth, fastening it at the back of his head.
“I know you’re pissed. I know you’re scared; feel like the room is closing in on you. You probably have had too much time to yourself thinking. I’m sorry for that. You did the right thing coming down here, but not soon enough. It’s a good first start. Now you need to learn to breathe,” Troy whispered standing in front of him. “This isn’t going to be easy, but I’m not going anywhere.”
The entire day had been one fuck up after another. He had been on the phone with Hornet, or double-checking facts and intel all damn day. The only time he’d seen Marshall after breakfast was when he’d made him lunch and gave him a kiss. A few hours later something pulled at him and he had to go and check on him. It was a need like drinking water.
What he found was a man on the edge. He knew it just as soon as Marshall glanced his way that he was in a dark place. It only got worse the more he stood there. What it was about his presence set Marshall off, he had yet to determine. It might take him awhile, but he would discover it and change his behavior.
Now though, Rico was indeed tied to the cross, glaring at him like he’d just been betrayed. In for a penny. Troy thought as he stood toe to toe to his friend and lover whom he prayed wouldn’t hate him for this. He’d warned him how difficult this would be.
“Hey, calm down,” he said as softly as he could. “I’m not going to hurt you, or anyone else, Rico. You’re safe here.” Troy stepped out of Marshall’s line of sight. It wasn’t helping being in his line of vision. No, but maybe my just my voice and touch can get through to him. Troy moved around the cross so that he was behind Rico.
This wasn’t the same cross he had put placed him on the first night. This one was custom made for just these types of situations. It had a removable piece for the head for those men and women who thought banging their heads, or head-butting him would solve the problem. It had been an early rudimentary addition, but at least he’d added padding to it in recent years. Tee still wasn’t sure if Rico wasn’t going to try to
smash him in the nose with that hard cranium of his, but he was hopeful that he wouldn’t.
“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay, Rico.” He reached out to touch the undersides of his arms. The muscles jerked, but soon began to loosen under his ministrations. “Just listen to the sound of my voice.” He continued to speak in the same calm tone he had been using tactile and calming reassurance to bring Rico back to the present. “You are okay. It doesn’t matter what you did, you are safe. You are okay. It’s okay. We can deal with the fallout together; I just need you to breathe with me. Inhale and exhale. C’mon, you can do it.”
It took what seemed like forever, but what was probably more like five or ten minutes before Rico began responding. By then, he was not only touching his forearms, but his upper chest; similar to what he presumed a parent might soothe a child. This technique had certainly been used on him more than once over the years. Sometimes, just to put him to sleep for a few hours, like hypnosis.
“That’s it,” he praised Rico as he breathed around the small ball gag. It was another useful tool. This one would only be used for Rico. Like all the others of this size, they were for therapy use only and had one owner. If Marshall was interested, he had other ball gags for playing in the bedroom. “You’re doing great. Inhale and exhale; inhale and exhale. So proud of you Rico. Now let’s lower your heart rate even more,” he drummed on beat on Rico’s chest which matched his own.
Lips at the shell of Rico’s ear, he couldn’t resist brushing the softness with his lips, hugging him from behind. “Feel the beat of my heart. Concentrate on each one as we breathe together. Think of my hands on you, the way my fingers feel upon your skin. Think about how it feels when your nipples pebble when I draw circles around them —.”
Troy slipped the gag out of his mouth and flipped the headrest down so that he bore the weight of Rico’s head on his own chest. His friend was back, he could feel it in the way he moved; see it in the tightening of his workout shorts. This wasn’t and wouldn’t be about sex though. This was about Marshall and empowering him. Taking care of him. Letting him know he was okay. It was okay. He is loved despite the choices he was forced to make during a war not of his making.
Always and Forever: An Echo Rescue Series Novella Page 7