Reclaiming Love

by Vicki McElfresh

  "I win,” Kevin said when he pulled away, eyes dancing with delight.

  Connor sighed, suddenly aware of the wet spot growing in the front of his pants. “You cheated."

  Kevin laughed. “I was going to win anyway. I thought I'd put you out of your misery."

  Nicki patted Kevin's back. “Kevin, where have you been hiding?” He laughed again and stepped right back into his dance with Lilly, casting a smoldering glance in Connor's direction. “Just think how good it'll be when he finally lets you sleep with him."

  Connor groaned. “You aren't helping."

  "Of course I am. Just because he wound you up hard enough to beat nails—"

  "Nicki!” The ache had started again, and he was already embarrassed enough. “You are as wicked as he is. You didn't tell me about this evil streak."

  She shrugged. “Nicki can't tell you everything.” She patted his cheek. “Some things are far more delicious when you discover them on your own."

  To Connor's relief, Kevin did seem to have taken pity on him. Though when he pulled Connor to the dance floor for a slow dance, he took great delight in seeing how many times he could get a reaction just from touching. He rolled his hips in Connor's hands, or he would nip playfully at his neck or lips. The teasing had a predictable effect on his body.

  "You are a wicked little tease."

  "But you lo ... like it.” Kevin stared up at him. The stormy gray of his eyes had changed to a dark blue, and he was still wearing that teasing little smile.

  Connor said nothing about Kevin's slip of tongue. “Yes, I do. You've enjoyed yourself after all.” Kevin laid his cheek against Connor's chest and nodded, and again Connor felt his contented smile. They fit perfectly together. Kevin's head settled just below Connor's chin, and at the moment, Connor's arms were looped around Kevin's waist, and Kevin's hands rested just below Connor's shoulder blades. “Just what do your friends think of your naughty display?"

  Kevin laughed. “Scott told me I was mean. Lilly says she's going to have to remember this for future reference. Mark and Pretty Boy were busy making out in a corner, so they missed most of it. George was busy criticizing my steps. And poor Dave, well he was in a similar state as you. I'm afraid he went to visit the restroom. And Nicki..."

  "I know what Nicki said, thank you.” Kevin's grip moved down, resting easily around Connor's hips. Connor heard someone mutter that they were a pretty couple, and he also became aware they were now the only couple dancing. Everyone else was watching. Nicki, in particular, was wearing a satisfied smirk. “She's as wicked as you are."

  Kevin grinned up at him. “You've only seen a small bit of my wickedness."

  The statement sent another rush of desire course through Connor. “You just say things like that to see how turned on you can make me."

  "Does it work?"

  "Yes."

  "Good."

  They danced for a little longer, and Kevin finally pulled away, yawning. He left Connor long enough to kiss Nicki's cheek and give her a hug. “Thank you,” Connor heard him say. “I wasn't in the mood when I got here, but it was fun."

  "You're welcome.” She tweaked his nose and got a smile in reply. “I've enjoyed seeing you play a little. You've been serious too long."

  Kevin blushed and said goodbye to everyone else before he led Connor back upstairs. Nicki and Scott followed them, waiting while Kevin gathered up his gifts.

  "Kevin.” Scott's deep voice was commanding, and Kevin stopped what he was doing to look up. “Do you want to know what my cop friend said?"

  Kevin bit his lip. The playful mood he'd found downstairs slowly evaporating. “Sure. That can be the topper on my craptastic day.” He continued gathering up his things.

  Scott shook his head and sighed. “It didn't look craptastic downstairs. I could have sworn you were having fun."

  "I was.” Kevin put most of his gifts in one bag, except the print. That, he clutched to his chest, as though afraid it might disappear. “What did he say?"

  "He said you need to file a report, and if they won't take your report, then you complain until they do.” He pulled a card out of his wallet and handed it to Kevin, who stared at it. “He also talked to Karen Babcock, the detective that worked your original case. Do you remember her?"

  Kevin scowled at the card. “Vaguely."

  "He thinks you should call her and set up an appointment to talk. She could come to your apartment if you wanted. He said there is no reason you should have to live in fear all of the time."

  Kevin stuffed the card into his pocket. “I'll think about it."

  Nicki touched his arm. “Kev..."

  "I'm all right, Nic. Really I am. I had a really good cry this afternoon. Connor and I talked. I'm fine.” He kissed her cheek and gave Scott a hug.

  "I wish you'd just let me go beat the shit out of him,” Scott said.

  "Nope, sorry.” Kevin's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. “Thanks for everything.” He guided Connor out to the car.

  "You will at least file a report."

  "I'll do that, and you can go with me. At least that way you can see that the cops don't really care about fags."

  Connor wanted to take issue with Kevin's attitude, but he said nothing, enjoying a companionable silence as they drove back to his flat. He expected Kevin to let him out, but he carried one of the pair of lamps up the stairs. Once inside and after the lamps had been put down, Kevin embraced him, curling into him the same way he had when they danced, and again, Connor marveled at how well they fit together. Kevin's hands rested in the middle of Connor's back, and his head tucked beneath his chin. Connor held him, keeping his hands still, not sure how to touch or Kevin's comfort level.

  "You're being wonderful again,” Kevin murmured.

  Connor sighed. “Why don't you want me to be wonderful?"

  Kevin finally looked up, but his eyes were dark and sad. “Josh was wonderful for a while.” He slid one of Connor's hands down to his behind. “Put your hands where you want them. Be honest. Wonderful is nice, but I love honest. Promise you'll be honest."

  "I promise,” he said, looping his hands around Kevin's waist.

  "Dance with me,” Kevin whispered and wrapped his arms around Connor's neck. He began to sway.

  "We have no music."

  "Do we need any?"

  Connor replied by swaying with Kevin, enjoying his closeness. He was a bit startled when Kevin kissed him, a sweet, gentle kiss that was just as exciting as one more heated.

  "I'm going home now."

  Connor let him go and followed him to the door.

  "Do you still want tomorrow alone?"

  Kevin nodded. “If I change my mind, I'll call.” Kevin kissed him again, another of those soft kisses. “Thank you. I love the birthday present."

  "I wanted to get it earlier."

  "I wouldn't have let you.” Another kiss. “Good night, Connor,” Kevin said, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

  "Good night.” Connor locked the door after Kevin left, and went to the window to watch him drive away. He sat in the chair, staring down at the street below, before he finally got up and went into the bathroom to change clothes and get ready for bed. Once he was snuggled under the covers, Thumper jumped onto the bed, burrowing against him.

  "What do we do with him, Thumper?” The cat had no answer, and Connor closed his eyes, dreaming of the smoldering stares Kevin had flashed him while he'd danced with Lilly.

  He awakened late the next morning, and after a shower, he settled at his computer to do some real work, and for a time he was absorbed in working on a logo design. He'd just finished the design and decided he needed a break, when he noticed a small package had been shoved through the mail slot of his door. Scowling, he picked it up. It bore the same label as had been on the collar and Kevin's box.

  "Damn you.” He flopped down in his chair and opened it. This one contained pictures, but wrapped around the pictures was another note.

  You only think you know him.
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  The first picture behind the note made Connor's stomach clench tight. He shoved them back in the envelope, now grateful that Kevin had shown him the album and explained. If he'd seen these with no explanation, he would have judged first and asked questions later, and Kevin would have run, just like he had that day in the bookstore.

  He sat in the chair, chewing on a fingernail, and tried to decide what to do. He needed to talk to someone, someone who didn't know Kevin or what Kevin had gone through, someone who could give him real advice about the situation he'd gotten into. He called his dad. He was a retired public defender. Perhaps he'd have advice, or at least know where Connor could find information.

  "Hello."

  "Dad?"

  "Connor!” The familiar voice and accent made Connor ache for the home he'd left behind. His dad sounded a little surprised but happy to hear Connor's voice. “Are you homesick, son?"

  "A little,” he confessed.

  "Why you wanted to move halfway across the country—"

  "You know why,” he said softly. “I wanted a new start."

  His dad sighed. “Yes, I know. I know just what you mean. Sometimes starting over is the best thing to do. How are you doing?"

  Connor looked around his apartment, thinking of the furniture he and Kevin planned to pick up over the weekend. “Better, Dad, really. I met someone..."

  His dad laughed. “I told you the heart couldn't stay broken forever. What's he like?"

  "He's younger than me. A few years younger.” He decided that was ambiguous enough that his father wouldn't guess Kevin was closer to nine years younger. “He's clever and smart, and very talented. I'll send you the book he wrote. Just skim over the sex."

  More laughter echoed on the other end of the phone.

  "He's a dancer...” He trailed off, staring at the package in his lap.

  "One of those creative types?"

  "Yeah. One of those."

  "Are you in love with him, Connor?"

  "I've only known him a little over a week."

  "And you've probably spent hours and hours with him in that week. Love's like that sometimes. You didn't answer me."

  "Not yet,” Connor murmured.

  "Bring him when you come visit."

  "Dad—"

  "I want to meet the man that makes you have that dreamy voice. Now, tell me what's wrong. Something's wrong, Connor, I can hear it."

  Connor closed his eyes and bit back tears. “Do you know anything about domestic abuse?"

  "Why would you—"

  "Kevin, that's his name. Kevin Stohler. His last partner...” He opened the package again and flipped through the pictures. “...was sick. He did awful things to Kevin, Dad, and I don't know what to do. I've been patient, but the asshole is stalking him now. He keeps sending me things to try and turn me off. What do I do?” He felt like a little boy. He used to ask his dad that question when he was younger and confused, but somehow he didn't think his dad was going to have an answer this time. He wasn't sure anyone did.

  "Oh, Connor.” There was no disappointment in his father's voice, only worry. “You move halfway across the bloody country, and then you tell me something like this."

  "I'm sorry.” The words were almost a whisper.

  "Don't be sorry. You can't help who you love. Where did you meet him?"

  "In a bookstore. He was sitting in a corner reading, and he just looked so..."

  "I understand."

  "His friend set us up because he was scared. We went for coffee."

  "And his family?"

  "He doesn't really have any, just friends, a surrogate family."

  His father was silent for a moment. “Poor kid,” he heard him mumble. “Connor, this isn't my area of expertise, but I know someone who does handle cases like that. I can get you some information."

  "Would you?"

  "Of course. Can you get him to go to the police?"

  "He says they won't do anything. He said he would go, but..."

  "He's scared. What kind of abuse?"

  He flipped through the pictures again, his gaze lingering on one where Kevin's eyes were filled with such terror Connor ached inside. “The better question might be what didn't happen. The asshole put him in the hospital, almost killed him. Kevin's afraid to be alone, afraid to answer the phone, afraid to go out with friends, afraid to do much of anything. But past the fear, he's got a playful personality."

  Another dry chuckle. “Admit that you've gone and lost your heart, Connor. As for what you can do to help him, be patient. Be loving. Let him talk to you if he wants, but don't push. Pushing him will push him away, and you want him to open up. If the abuse was as bad as you suggest, he probably needs some good counseling, but let him make that choice. What he needs more than anything is to get the guy to leave him alone so he can rebuild his life. Encourage him to talk to the cops. Don't force him, just encourage him. He'll come round eventually."

  "I wish I could do more than that."

  "You can't force him to get help, and you can't force him to get better. I know it's hard, but you have to be patient."

  "I love you, Dad."

  "I love you, Connor. I'll see what else I can find for you."

  "Thanks.” He hung up, feeling no more encouraged than he had when he'd called. He tossed the pictures away and sat down at the computer to do some more work. Instead, he searched the Internet for domestic abuse. He came up with millions of hits, but most pertained to battered women. He tried again looking for domestic violence against men, again he received a number of hits, but most of those referred to female batterers. He finally found a few decent pages when he searched for domestic violence in same-sex couples. The statistics were staggering, and the personal stories he read left him queasy. He finally closed the browser and forced himself to think about work, but his mind drifted to Kevin. He would do the only things he could, wait and be patient.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Eleven

  Kevin had assured Dave at lunch that he would be fine alone for the evening. He wanted a little space, and the prospect of a night alone didn't have him paralyzed. He locked the door behind him, tossed the mail on the counter, and went into the bedroom to change clothes. Barefoot and dressed in baggy sweats and a T-shirt, he turned on the stereo and fixed an omelet for dinner. He flipped through the mail while he ate. Nothing bizarre, no letters, nothing suspicious, just a few advertisements and a credit card offer. He put his dishes in the sink and curled up on the couch, relaxing, listening to the soothing sounds of the jazz CD he'd chosen.

  He didn't know when he left the couch to dance, but he liked the motions, liked the way his body felt as it moved. He was light and graceful, and if he leaped right now, he was certain he could fly. The phone rang just as he'd started to move from a warm-up exercise into a dance. He froze, staring at the thing, heart pounding.

  He should unplug it. He'd forgotten to do that. It stopped, and he stepped back into the dance. He danced until his legs burned and his chest heaved a little with exertion, then he turned off the stereo and curled up on the couch with the remote, mindlessly flipping channels. He settled on a sitcom and fished his cell out of his pocket.

  The phone rang again before he could dial Devon's number. He resisted the urge to pick it up and tell whoever it was to stop calling. That wouldn't help. He'd read that. Never acknowledge them. That was why he'd never let anyone confront Josh over the belongings he'd lost, and now, over the letters and phone calls. He closed his eyes and waited for the ringing to stop. He let out a sigh of relief when it did, but he reached behind him, picked up the phone and dialed in for his messages.

  "You have five new messages...” the automated voice said.

  He listened to them. The first was a telemarketing call. The next three were hang ups. The last ... That one left him with chills ... the sound of a whip striking flesh and an overly enthusiastic cry of, “Oh fuck ... that's so good ... more."

  Kevin hung up and sat with the ph
one cradled against his chest, shaking. He summoned enough strength to reach behind him and unplug it. At least it wouldn't ring anymore.

  He sat on the couch, breathing deeply, with his cell clenched so tight his hand ached. He finally managed to open it and call Devon. The phone rang several times before he answered, “Lancaster."

  Kevin bit his lip, not quite sure what to say. Hello didn't seem quite right.

  "Kevin, honey, I know it's you. I saw your number on the caller ID. Are you all right?"

  He took a deep breath. “I'm alone, and I'm scared.” He sniffed. “Did Nicki call you?"

  "No, why would she? What's happened, honey? You don't call for days, and then you call upset. Didn't you have a good birthday?"

  He took a deep breath. “It was good, and bad.” He bit his lip. “I'm—"

  "How's your new man?"

  Kevin laughed. Devon always seemed to be able to get to the heart of matters. “He knows about Josh.” He closed his eyes and shivered, not sure what to say.

  "And?"

  "He still wants me, Devon. I don't know why. I don't understand it, but he still wants me. Why? He barely batted an eye when I asked him to be patient with me, just promised that he would. Do you think there's something wrong with him?"

  Devon sighed. “What does he know?"

  "Nicki told him what Josh did, and I—” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I showed him the pictures, and he didn't run away.” He could imagine the shock on Devon's face, and he reached for his blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders. “Josh is stalking me."

  Devon was silent for a moment, no doubt gathering his thoughts, trying to decide what he should say. “Honey, you need to go to the police."

  "They won't—"

  "Listen to me, sweetheart. It's more than letters and phone calls now, isn't it? I'm afraid you're going to get hurt again, and I don't want that."

  Kevin clutched the blanket tighter. “I don't want that either."

  "Promise me you'll go to the police and file a report in the morning. Take the letters. Take anything he's sent you, and go file a report. They can get your phone records, Kevin, and they can see if he's called you."