by G. R. Lyons
Besides, the only person he wanted—and far more than anyone else he'd ever wanted in his life—was someone he could never have.
Chapter 27
COLBY DARTED into his room the minute he saw Vic's car pull out of the garage. Vic was going somewhere to play music with Ryley and Zac, and said he'd be back in a couple hours. Colby was going to need every bit of that time to prepare.
He locked his bedroom door for the first time ever, and made up his nest in the middle of the bed, burrowing under the comforter and closing his eyes. There was only one scar left to get rid of. Once it was gone, he'd be ready for the next part of his plan.
Assuming he could follow through with it.
Hidden away in the dark, wrapped up in warmth and silence, Colby turned his focus inward and traveled down through his body until he found the last scar, the worst of them all. He went to work, ordering the damaged tissue to fall off, cell by cell, only to be replaced by new skin, slowly but surely knitting its way across the scarred area. When he was finished, he lay there for a long moment, trying to work up the nerve to go see the result.
Finally, he got up, tidied the bed, and went to the washroom. He switched on the light, dimming it down as much as he could, and stripped out of his clothes. Colby turned on the shower and stepped in under the hot water, skipping the mirror for now. He could do that part later.
Colby tilted his head back under the spray, letting the tension melt from his limbs as the heat soaked into his skin. He washed his hair, fingering the strands. It was getting long again. Part of him was tempted to have Vic cut it back, but the hair that Bad Man had touched had already been cut off, and Colby himself didn't like the way it looked when it was all chopped short, even if it did make him feel more comfortable. Besides, he got the feeling Vic had been sad to see it go, and anything he could do to make Vic happier would, with any luck, make his plan come about a little easier.
Once his hair was clean, Colby scrubbed all over his body, then did it again, paying special attention to certain areas. When he finally couldn't linger any longer, Colby got out and dried himself thoroughly, taking slow, deep breaths as he hung up the towel and walked over to the door.
A full-length mirror hung on the back of the washroom door. Colby had always avoided it as much as he could, but today was different. He stopped in front of it, eyes focused on his feet in the reflection. With another deep breath, he slowly looked up, scanning his body as he went.
The scars were gone. They were really and truly gone. Colby twisted to one side, then the other, checking all over, then slowly ran his hands all over his skin, feeling the smoothness of it all, no longer able to either see or feel the rough marks from Bad Man's cigarettes, knives, or hands. For all that Bad Man had been adamant about his party guests never permanently harming Colby, the man had never applied that rule to himself, punishing Colby in painful ways that marked out his ownership of the boy all over his skin.
But, now, the scars were no more. All those marks of ownership were gone.
Except for one, and it was one that couldn't be seen. It existed only in his mind.
Somewhere in the house, Colby heard a door close.
“Colby?”
Colby tensed even as he smiled nervously. This was it. His heart raced and his hands shook, but he knew what he had to do. What he wanted to do.
A knock sounded at his door. “Sweetheart? Are you awake?”
“Yes,” Colby called back.
After a pause, Vic asked, “Everything alright?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright.” Vic paused again. “I'm gonna go shower, but I just wanted to let you know I'm home.”
“Alright.”
Vic was silent, then his footsteps moved away down the hall.
Colby stood by the door for a long moment, then darted over to his closet and grabbed his hoodie, pulling it on and zipping it all the way up.
Then he went back to the door, listening and waiting.
* * *
VIC GLANCED down the hall through his open bedroom doorway as he crossed from his washroom to the closet. Colby's door was shut, no light showing from underneath, and Sharma lay curled up on the floor, apparently standing guard. Vic frowned. Why the dog wasn't in the room with Colby, he couldn't begin to guess.
But Colby had been acting secretive for days now. It didn't have quite the element of fear that had once accompanied Colby's hiding away, but it didn't seem exactly carefree, either. Vic sighed and continued to his closet to grab his sleep clothes. He hoped Colby would tell him someday.
Unless Vic made his own confession to Colby first, and it sent the boy running as far away as he could get.
Vic yanked on a t-shirt and went to his bed, turning back the covers. He sat up against the pillows and picked up his phone, checking to make sure he hadn't missed any calls, though of course there was the usual barrage of emails, showing him all the new files that had come in for him to process. Looked like he'd have a busy day tomorrow.
He started to set his phone aside when Sharma suddenly stood, wagging his tail and panting as Colby's bedroom door opened.
Colby paused there, gave Sharma a quick scratch behind the ears, then murmured an instruction for the dog to stay put before he actually set foot outside his room.
Vic's eyebrows went up. The boy was wearing only his hoodie, just like he had the last time he'd come to Vic, offering himself in exchange for Vic letting him stay.
Surely, Colby wouldn't still be worried about Vic making him leave, would he?
Somehow, assuming this was the same thing all over again, Vic was going to have to keep his hands to himself, despite all the things he so desperately wanted to do. Of course, he could just tell Colby how much he wanted him. The boy would definitely run away then.
Colby stopped in the doorway when he glanced up and realized Vic was watching him.
“Hi,” Colby whispered, fidgeting with the pulls on his hood and looking up at Vic from under his eyelashes.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Vic paused. “Everything alright?”
Colby nodded, then slowly crossed the room.
Vic blindly set his phone on the nightstand and waited, wondering what in the gods' names Colby was up to.
Colby stopped by the bed, fidgeting with the zipper on his hoodie, then left it on and climbed up, straddling Vic's lap and resting his little hands on Vic's chest.
The boy took a deep breath, and looked up.
“I need you to make me yours,” Colby whispered.
Vic's heart started galloping away in his chest. Colby couldn't seriously mean what Vic thought he meant, could he?
“Colby…”
“I n-need to be yours,” Colby said. He looked down shyly, then seemed to have to force his gaze up again. “I need you t-to be inside me.”
Vic stared at him, his mouth going dry as his pulse sped up even more. All day, Vic had been worrying about how to admit to Colby that he wanted him exactly that way, and here was Colby offering that very thing.
Fuck. He wanted to say yes. He was desperate to say yes. To finally experience something he'd only dreamt about since he was twelve years old? To finally share that kind of exquisite intimacy with someone? Especially someone he loved? Vic pressed his hands down on the bed, both to hide their shaking and to stop him from seizing the boy. He wanted to say yes, but he couldn't. Not when Colby wasn't truly ready.
“Sweetheart,” he began, then swallowed hard. “You don't have to do this. I'm not sending you away–”
Colby looked up and pressed the fingertips of both hands over Vic's mouth.
“No,” Colby insisted. “Listen.”
Vic's eyebrows went up. He'd never seen that kind of fierce determination in the boy, and it stunned him into silence far better than the presence of Colby's hands ever could.
Colby watched him intently, seeming to wait to make sure Vic actually wasn't going to speak, then sighed heavily through his nose. “I need this, Vic.” He paused, looking all
around as though trying to physically find the words. “When Patches got out that day, and Bad Man found me while I was trying to get home, he kept trying to grab me. He couldn't—his hands went right through me—but he kept trying anyway, and the whole time, he kept called me boy and telling me I belonged to him.”
Vic's heart clenched. “Sweetheart…” he murmured behind Colby's fingers.
“And it made me think,” Colby went on, “of all those years in the basements, with Bad Man telling me the same thing, over and over. That I was his. His slut. His whore.” He paused, frowning. “I don't even know what those mean, but they sounded bad. And the others all did the same thing. Calling me their toy. Saying…they owned my ass. That they owned me.”
Good gods. Vic squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, too easily able to picture all those things, his sweet boy subjected to such cruelty.
“But then,” Colby continued, his voice sounding a little brighter, “I thought of what you said to Ryley. That day you were talking to him, when I wasn't supposed to hear.”
Vic cringed. It was that very conversation that had driven Colby to offer himself the last time.
But Colby didn't look upset. If anything, he looked more determined than ever.
“You said,” Colby whispered, “that you wanted me to be yours.” He paused, frowning in thought. “That…you wanted to make me yours in every sense of the word.” Colby met Vic's eyes again. “And if you were inside me, I would be yours. I'd belong to you instead of them.”
Vic gently grabbed Colby's wrists and pulled the boy's hands down. “Sweetheart,” he began, shaking his head and trying with all his might not to throw Colby down and consume him then and there, “that's not–”
“Vic,” Colby interrupted. He took a deep breath, and reached for the zipper on his hoodie, slowly pulling it down.
“Sweetheart–” Vic tried to grab his hands to stop him, but Colby batted his hands away.
“I need you to see,” Colby insisted, and unzipped the hoodie the rest of the way, shaking with nerves as he shrugged it off, leaving him naked as he sat there on Vic's lap. “They're all gone, Vic. I made all the scars go away.”
Vic tried not to look. He tried so hard not to, but temptation won out, and Colby's insistent, pleading stare didn't help matters. Holding his breath, Vic looked down. He'd seen the boy naked before, of course, but this time felt different. This time felt bigger, more important.
He blinked, then gasped as his eyes went wide at the sight of all that unblemished skin. Colby hadn't been joking. All the scars were gone.
Without thinking, Vic reached out and traced his fingertips along Colby's ribs, where what Vic had assumed was a whip scar had once been. Now, there was nothing there. Not so much as a hint that the skin had ever been broken.
The same was true of all the other scars. The cuts and cigarette burns had all simply vanished. Colby's body was no longer painted with the marks of his torment.
“I feel so free, Vic,” Colby whispered. “I mean, I know it doesn't change what happened, but it's like part of him is gone. Like he owns me a little bit less, like I've taken my body back.” He paused, his voice more firm as he continued: “But it's not enough. I can still feel him inside me. All of them. It's like they're all still with me, reminding me they own me, that my body isn't mine. That it's theirs. And I don't want to keep feeling them, Vic. I don't want to belong to them anymore.”
Fuck. Vic took a deep breath. “Sweetheart, that'll come in time–”
“No,” Colby insisted. “I want to belong to you. I need it now. I want to be yours. And I know you can make it beautiful, somehow, like you did the last time. Even if you send me away after, I need this, Vic. Please.” Colby rested his hands on Vic's chest again and leaned closer, pressing their foreheads together and whispering over Vic's lips, “Please.”
Vic's whole body trembled, all his muscles straining as he fought the desperate urge to give in. Colby was offering everything he wanted, but he had to resist. There was no way Colby could truly be ready for this.
He cast about for an excuse, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “I don't have any condoms.”
Colby's eyes brightened. “But that's good,” he said. “Even better, because Bad Man always used condoms, so it'll be even more different than before.”
“Colby.” Vic shook his head. “Unless you're committed to someone, that's not safe–”
“Not safe?” Colby asked, tilting his head.
“No. I mean…Alright, technically, you and I would be fine, but…in any other instance, that would be a risky attitude. There are so many diseases that can be passed sexually…”
“Diseases?”
“Illnesses,” Vic said. “Things that make you sick.”
Colby paled.
“No, Colby, no,” Vic blurted out. “You're fine. Sweetheart, you're fine.”
“But–”
“They tested you in the hospital the day we found you. Everything was negative. The bad men didn't give you anything.”
Colby let out a shuddering breath, then looked carefully at Vic, his eyes slowly going wide. “Are you sick?”
“No.” Vic shook his head. “No, I'm clean, too. That's why I meant that technically we'd be fine without condoms, but–”
“Then that's good!” Colby brightened again. “If I can't make you sick, and it'll be different from when Bad Man had me…”
“I'm still not sure it's a good idea,” Vic murmured, shaking his head again and gripping the sheets in both fists like his life depended on it.
“Why?” Colby whispered.
Vic struggled to find an answer, then asked, “What if you regret it? What if you resent me for it once it's all over? I don't want you to be afraid of me. I don't want you thinking of me like you think of him. Of all of them. I'd hate it if that happened. I don't want to lose you.”
Some of Colby's nerves seemed to fade away, his brow smoothing a bit and his shoulders dropping slightly. “Please, Vic,” he whispered. “Please? I need it to be you.”
“But why me?” Vic asked. “Why now? Why not wait a few more years and see what happens? Maybe you'll meet someone and fall in love–” Vic broke off, hating to even imagine it. Colby in love with someone else? Just thinking of it broke his heart.
Colby looked down, then sighed and leaned close again, resting their foreheads together. “I have this feeling,” he whispered, tapping on his chest, “and I don't know what to call it, but it's happy. It's beauty and smiles and laughter, and I feel it every time I see you.” He pulled back just enough to look Vic in the eyes. “You've given me so much. And I'm not saying that's why I'm doing this,” he rushed to add. “I'm not…looking to pay, or anything. But it's true. You've given me so much. You found me. Got me out of the basement. You gave me shelter, and food, and taught me things, and made me so feel warm and safe. You showed me so many beautiful things, so many happy things. The gardens. Music…” He smiled softly. “You saved my life, Vic. I was almost dead—in so many ways—and you saved me. You brought me back to life. You made me want to live. For the first time ever, I don't want it all to just end. I don't need to die or escape. I'm free, and now I know what happiness feels like. What friendship feels like. What safety and warmth and comfort feel like. And that's all thanks to you.”
Vic stared at the boy, feeling at a complete loss for words.
“You saved me,” Colby whispered. “You saved me from the bad men. You're so good, Vic. How could I not want to belong to you?”
Vic let out another shuddering breath. Good gods. It felt like Colby was reading years' worth of thoughts in his mind, saying everything Vic had ever wanted to hear. He'd failed to save Cam's life right when Cam was on the verge of being able to live again, but somehow—be it fate or chance or even the gods themselves—he'd gotten a chance to redeem himself, finding Colby just in time and rescuing him from the brink of death in more ways than one. Sure, he'd rescued plenty of other kids over the years, but none wi
th so dark a past as Colby had suffered. Now, the boy lived, and was well on his way to thriving.
“Please, Vic,” Colby whispered, trailing his fingertips all over Vic's face. “I want this.” He paused, then added, “I need you.”
Vic gasped out a breath and pulled his sweet boy in for a kiss.
Chapter 28
VIC SHIVERED at the first touch of Colby's lips. He sucked in a breath and wrapped his arms deliberately around the boy, planting his hands firmly on Colby's back as he struggled not to race forward. This had to be done right. Now that he was finally going to experience it—and with Colby, no less—it couldn't be rushed.
It couldn't be anything as crass as fucking. It couldn't even be just sex. The moment demanded that it mean something. That it matter. The only way for this experience to be right for both of them was to have it be making love, in every sense of the word. To make it beautiful, as Colby said.
Vic couldn't afford to fail in this. For both their sakes. He was going to have to remain absolutely focused and not lose himself in the heat of the moment, keeping himself in tune with Colby's every sound and expression so that he wouldn't go too far before he could step back and salvage the situation.
The kiss went on endlessly, so soft and achingly sweet. Tilting his head slightly, Vic tried to deepen the kiss, running the tip of his tongue along Colby's lips. The boy whimpered and opened for him.
Vic focused on breathing as they kissed, trying to run a pep talk through his head, hoping it would get his body to accept the idea that this whole thing was probably going to come to a screeching halt at some point, long before the finish line. Just because Colby said he wanted this didn't mean the reality of it wasn't going to send him into a panic. Vic would have to be ready.
Just at the moment he had himself convinced that Colby wasn't going to go any further than kissing him, the boy shifted closer and reached up to run his fingers through Vic's hair.
Vic moaned before he could stop it. Moving slowly, he slid one hand down to Colby's hip. The boy shivered, but didn't break the kiss, even managing to move closer and hold Vic a bit tighter.