by Unknown
"Then cum." Pinching his eyes closed, Razer fell into the heated moment of electricity, stroking his cock roughly, pulling at his hardened flesh in harsh tugs.
Shuddering, Trenton held his climax at bay until he knew Razer was close to cumming. His hunger building to the point of anguish, he threw his head back and roared. " Aaaaaahhhh! "
Exploding into Razer's ass, he could no long feel his legs as his heart thumped into his chest and a shimmer of color flashed across his eyes, marring his vision.
" Fuck!" Razer's body bucked up wildly as he pumped his cock, white string of heated cum spilling out over his hand.
Trenton gazed down with hazy eyes at the creamy mess and grinned. This was better than he'd imagined.
Trenton and Razer lay together in the aftermath, arms and legs entwined. Trenton aimlessly brushed his thumb across Razer's heated skin, allowing the warmth of their bodies to meld together. "What are you thinking?"
"That I could get used to this," Razer breathed.
"That's what you're supposed to say."
Chuckling, Razer twisted Trenton's nipple in between his fingers.
"Yowl. What's that for?"
"For ditching me at the gallery. The event was amazing."
Trenton sighed. "I'm sorry. I have no doubt you were amazing."
"But you haven't seen my art yet."
"I've…I'm sure it's wonderful."
Rolling onto his stomach, Razer glanced up into his eyes. "Why do I feel like you're hiding something?"
Trenton laughed. "You're too suspicious."
"Comes with the nature of my past," Razer hissed, his voice catching.
"Will you tell me what happened to you? Do trust me enough to share your secret?" Trenton knew this was the moment for truth and yet he feared every bit of it. He remained quiet stroking Razer's arm.
Several seconds ticked by.
"I was involved with a group at school. They were into Goth clubs. I wasn't necessarily into the scene but it was something to do. I always wanted something darker than just sex since I was a boy. I heard people that enjoyed my brand of need frequented the clubs."
"Brand of needs?" Trenton whispered. He rose onto his knees and straddled Razer's waist.
"Again?"
"Back rub." Trenton knew he had to try and make Razer even more comfortable if he was going to get the whole story.
"Yum." Razer let out a strangled sigh. "Um…so anyway, I met a guy at a bar we all went to a lot. He was very quiet and very professional or so I thought at the time. We started talking and one thing led to another and he asked me back to his house one day."
Trenton could tell Razer's tension was increasing. Rubbing his shoulders, he sighed. "And?"
"And Tim, that was his name, was good to me. We had sex that night and it was really nice.
So we decided to meet again. After a couple of months and my prodding given our conversations he introduced me to his playroom. I enjoyed it for a good two months.
Everything was great."
"What changed?" Barely able to say the words, Trenton methodically massaged Razer's back and arms. Every part of his body tingling, the deeper Razer went into the story, the more horrible he felt.
"I don't know. I think he was baiting me, drawing me into his little house of hell. I moved into Tim's house and suddenly one by one every freedom started disappearing. He wanted to be head of household so he was, punishing me at first for only a major infraction but then it just got worse. I could do anything and was whipped for it." Razer's breath skipped. "I…I…"
"Shhh…you don't have to go on." Trenton moved between Razer's legs and kneaded his lower back, barely able to focus. Swallowing hard, he fought to keep his breathing even.
"Yes I do. You need to know why I…have issues. That's when the club started."
"The club?"
"Yeah. It's a club that was…uh…private. He…Tim…he…"
Hearing a hard glitch in Razer's voice, Trenton moved off his body and brushed his hand through his hair.
"You're shaking." Razer turned his head.
Lifting his hand away, it shook enough they could both see it clearly.
"Shit! I'm such a fuck head." Razer sat up slowly and took Trenton's hand. "I know this is bringing up bad memories. I'm sorry."
Trenton closed his eyes and shook his head. "No. Please go on. You need to tell this and I need to hear what happened to you."
"I…don't know."
He pressed his fingers across Razer's mouth and shook his head. "Please. What kind of sex clubs?"
Razer hesitated as if debating. "The very private kind."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning where you show off your slaves to the group members who get to fuck you at will given the right bargaining techniques. Meaning the kind that enjoy whipping and torture and locking you in a cage while they drink copious amounts of alcohol. Then you get to be dragged out and paraded around by your cock as one after another of the men or women has their way with you. The kind that…that…" His eyes opening wide, Razer began to shake violently as bubbles pulsed past his lips.
"Razer. Razer! Oh fuck!" Trenton could tell Razer was completely entrenched in the memory.
He knew them well. He remembered every horrible moment, every touch and every strike of the whip until he turned the table. Until he became…
"I…I…" Razer gripped Trenton's arms, blinking furiously.
"Don't do this. Come back. It's okay. I'm here. I'll take care of you." Trenton wrapped his legs around Razer's waist and drew him in against his chest, rubbing his hands up and down Razer's back. As he rocked him back and forth, he hummed a tune for the first time in more than a decade. It was the only song he sang in his zone and as he hummed softly, fear gripped his heart.
Razer cried in his arms and suddenly pushed back against him. "I'm fine." Wiping his eyes furiously, he shook his head over and over again.
Trenton cupped Razer's chin and held him still. "What else did the monster do to you?"
He licked his lips and sighed, his breath nothing but scratchy pants. "He caged me."
Sucking in his breath, Trenton fought wailing to God above. Nothing he'd experienced was on this level, not even when… He could tell there was something else. "What else, honey? What else?"
As tears slipped from Razer's eyes, he slowly lifted his head. "He sold me like common trash to the highest bidder. He was tired of me."
Gasping, Trenton opened his mouth and allowed a single whimper to escape his lips. "And?"
"And…I ran."
****
Razer yawned and stretched. Hazy, he knew exactly where he was and was happier than he had been in years. Rolling over, he anticipated finding Trenton. Instead he was met with an empty bed. Opening his eyes, he tried to focus in the early morning light. Perhaps he was just getting coffee or showering. Lifting his head, he heard nothing but typical house sounds. He shifted and though about the incredible night. Between making love and their conversation, he was at peace and… Actually , Razer Willis was in love.
He rolled back in bed languishing in the feel of the covers and the thoughts of the future before curiosity got the better of him. Climbing out of bed, he tumbled into the bathroom and turned on the light. As he gazed at his reflection he smiled. For the first time he could smile without reservation. He was happy and almost sated. Almost.
Razer found a robe on the back of the closet door and slid into the soft material before padding out of the bedroom. Unable to find Trenton anywhere in the house, he sauntered into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of juice from the refrigerator. Cracking open the bottle, he gulped half as he stared out the kitchen window, trying to figure out where Trenton could've gone.
Suddenly it dawned on him. Gliding down the hall, he noticed the cracked door to the playroom and inched toward. Hesitating briefly, he shook his head and opened the door.
Hearing nothing, he could see a hazy light and Razer moved down the stairs softly. When he reached the bottom
, he could see Trenton sitting on a bench toward the back of the room, his back to the stairs.
"Trenton?"
Trenton bristled. "Stay there."
The request surprised him. "Why?"
"Because I asked you to."
"Whoa. What's going on?" And then he got it. Razer knew it had to do with his story. It had to. Of course. Shit. To think he could tell the story to anyone was stupid. He was stupid. Shit!
Shit! Shit! Biting back tears, he inched forward. He had to hear the truth. He deserved the fucking truth! "I shouldn't have told you."
Trenton laughed. "No. You should have."
Razer could hear the strain in Trenton's voice. "Right. You're being kind I can tell. I wish you would've stopped me in the middle before I made a fool of myself."
"Is that what you think?"
"Obviously."
Trenton laughed bitterly. "Then you'd be dead wrong."
Confused, Razer bit back an angry retort and flanked Trenton, realizing the man was shaking.
Trenton immediately turned away.
"What the fuck are you doing? What are you hiding from me? What's going on here? We were so close last night. You said things no one has said to me, not even Blake. You feeling regret this morning? God!"
"That's not it."
"Then what?"
The sound of silence enveloped them like a strangling blanket.
"Then what is it? I deserve to know!" Razer snapped.
Trenton exhaled, his breath coming in a long hiss. "It's more than you can understand and more than I can deal with."
"What does that mean?" This was far too confusing. Razer closed the distance until he was barely a foot behind his lover. There was no doubt the man was suffering by the sweat that rolled off his naked back. From where he stood, he could tell Trenton had been crying. "Please talk to me. Did my story bring back your memories?"
"It's not that. It's…"
"Come on here. I took a chance telling you everything that monster did to me. You heard every ugly detail. Can't you trust me by telling me what your monster did to you?" Razer had no idea what to do to help him. Reaching out, he placed his hand on Trenton's shoulder.
Trenton flinched and shifted away. "Don't."
"Why?"
"Because!"
The man was infuriating. "Trenton. What's going on? I'll help you through it if you'll allow me to."
"You can't help me. You're the last person to help me," Trenton hissed as he lowered his head.
"Jesus Christ. Fine. Sulk. I'll bite. Why can't I help you?"
"Because you're the victim."
"I was and so were you."
"Aaaahhhh!" Trenton threw his head back and wailed. Jerking to his feet, he turned and faced Razer, shaking his head. "No, I wasn't!"
So it was a lie? This didn't make any sense. "I don't believe you. Why are you telling me this?"
"Because…because…" Trenton brushed his hands through his hair in manic motions and Razer shifted back hearing the sounds of hair ripping.
Slowly Trenton lifted his head, his eyes nothing but vacant pools. "Because I wasn't the victim. I was the abuser."
Chapter Seven
Nearly a week passed and Razer found himself barely able to get out of bed. While Blake tried to comfort him, the fact remained he was nearly destroyed from Trenton's information.
Never would've he suspected that Trenton was an abuser. Trenton tried to explain his actions but given the evening and their raw emotions, he could barely speak. In the end, Trenton locked himself in his bedroom, refusing to open the door.
When Blake left the day before Razer immediately felt the loss. Blake's last words were haunting. You need to talk to Trenton. There's something he's not telling you. Please. Do yourself a favor and just talk to him. How could he? Trenton barely said a sentence about what happened but Razer put the pieces together. He had been involved in a club much like the one Tim dragged Razer to and ended up using and owning a boy to the point the kid was destroyed mentally. No matter what changes Trenton made in his life or atonements he offered, he was a monster through and through.
Razer had no energy to face anything and yet the phone continued to ring. Finally checking messages, the one from Andre was encouraging. Every piece of Razer's work had been sold at the ridiculous prices Andre asked for. At least Razer would be able to remain in his townhouse and paint for a few months without worry.
Reflecting on Karma had been interesting and the exercise of checking databases to find out the whereabouts of Tim Garner proved to be healing as well. The asshole was serving time for molesting a boy. Served the mother fucker right. Trenton tried to call several times but never left messages and while Razer checked his email daily, there was nothing. Growling, he knew he had to get the guy out of his mind.
He grabbed a quick cup of coffee and dressed quickly. Andre needed some paperwork signed and then a solid check for over thirty grand would be in Razer's hand in a matter of days.
As he drove to the gallery he thought about the future wondering if the woman from the gallery purchased a piece or two and whether she'd indeed want him to help her locate the perfect place in her house for his work. Perks of the trade, right? Shaking his head, Razer knew he wasn't that kind of guy. His stomach lurching at the thought, he needed to cleanse his soul and work on his art for a few months until he figured out what else to do.
Finding a parking spot close, he walked toward the gallery slowly allowing himself to admire the city streets. This was a new beginning for him and one that he was going to relish and take by the balls if it fucking killed him. Gliding into the gallery, he could see Andre talking on the phone.
Andre motioned him over. "Yes, sir. I have no doubt. We'll make sure you get what you need.
Actually he just walked into my humble little abode…sure. No, that's fine. I'll be happy to tell him. I don't know but I'll find out for you." Hanging up the phone, Andre crossed his arms.
"You're very lucky and I have a feeling you're going to be a wealthy man if you play your cards right." His grin mischievous, he looked up and down the length of Razer before sighing.
"What does that mean?"
"That means that I just got off the phone with our little art critic friend and your piece is going not only in the Atlanta Times but in the piece he's doing for the syndicate magazine.
You're going national. He wants another interview photographing your studio and wants to know when it's convenient. You do remember Jameson, don't you?"
"What?" Razer blinked furiously. "Of course I remember. But I can't believe it. Why?"
Andre shrugged. "Not only does he like your pieces but there's been enough interest in your work that he's encouraged to move you up in the world."
"What does that mean?" The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Razer could smell a set up a hundred yards away.
Andre leaned forward. "It means you have some friends in high places."
"Who?" Razer demanded.
"Oh no you don't. They elected to remain anonymous. What does it matter anyway if you're a wealthy man?" Andre chuckled. "Artists."
"I want to know who."
"For crying out loud. It doesn't matter."
Razer tried to keep his anger in check. Whether it was the woman that wanted payment in bed or someone else, he had to know. "I won't sleep around to get this."
"Sleep around? Honey, what the hell do you think I'm selling here?" Andre's voice held a distinct edge. "Just because you're a pretty boy and from what I've heard you were a sought after model, I don't run that kind of business no matter what you think."
Opening his mouth to retort, Razer stared as Dyson strolled in from the back.
"It's okay, Andre. He deserves to know," Dyson said quietly.
Razer had no idea what to say. "You?"
"Andre, can we use your office to talk?" Dyson asked.
"Sure. See if you can calm the boy down," Andre hissed.
"Talk? What do we have to talk a
bout?" Razer clenched his fists.
"More than you know." Dyson nodded toward the back. "Please?"
Against his better judgment, Razer nodded and followed Dyson. The story was just getting better and better. As Dyson closed the door, he kept his tone even but anger was building.
"Talk."
"Fine. Straight and to the point. Trenton purchased nine of the paintings. Now, before you say a damn word, you're going to hear me out. He has clients interested in them."
"Why the fuck should I? Let's face it. You two are no better than the fucking assholes I had to work with in modeling. No. Wait. You're worse, you fucking bastard!" Razer growled. While he knew he should bolt and never see any of them again, but he couldn't. He had to know the truth.
"Razer. You're talented."
"Whatever." Razer looked away. "Is he trying to buy my silence, my affection or both? Andre is in on this too, isn't he? Did he somehow arrange all of this for Trenton? And you? What, is Andre the flavor of the week or is he just your lackey?"
"I can understand your anger," Dyson said through clenched teeth.
"There's no way you can. Which is it, Dyson?"
"Neither. Trenton is part owner of the gallery. The deal came with some other stores that he's a silent partner in. There were some contractual obligations that required Andre to contact one of the partners for permission to have an unknown for a showing. He didn't lie to you that an artist cancelled at the last minute. Drago cancelling was huge."
"And how do you know all of this?" Razer gazed at anything but Dyson, yet he couldn't help stealing glances at his haunted face. He knew the artist and was surprised. That kind of a lie would be hard to hide.
Dyson sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Look. It's been a long few days. I could barely get Trenton out of bed and that's not like him. No matter what you think, you're wrong about him and about what happened over twenty years ago."
"I don't think so. He told me clearly that he was the abuser and I want no part of it. I'm sure he told you my dirty little secret and my embarrassment for my stupidity thinking I cared about a man who's little more than a monster himself. I'm sure he relished in knowing he used the same level of mental coaching and persuasion to get me to trust him. Why? I've been in the playroom. Were the two of you really going to use me as your new slave? Were you going to keep me locked in a cage so I lost the rest of my life? Do you think I'm that stupid?" His chest heaving, Razer could barely breathe. Gripping the edge of the desk, he dropped his head, admonishing his trust, his belief. It would never happen again.