Chapter 31
Shaken Up
Wren wished that the change of setting made him more comfortable, but it seemed unnatural. Maybe this was officially his room, but the only time he had ever really spent in here was when he and Jere were fighting. He hadn’t even fallen asleep before Jere came in, and a part of him wondered if Jere was really going to force something on him, touch, healing, anything.
“I’ve mixed up some Crucial Care and brought tea,” Jere said, avoiding eye contact even once Wren looked up at him. “And there’s some water here. I’m so sorry, Wren... there was nothing else I could do.”
Wren just nodded, looking at the beverages with disgust. He would drink them later, he knew it, but he’d rather not do it while Jere was staring at him. It was so typical of Jere to try to doctor him; it was how Jere always dealt with conflict. In a way, it was comforting.
He slept through that night and the better part of the next day, vaguely aware that there were people gathering outside, that Jere was away from him. He woke only to drink the vile healing beverages and use the bathroom before collapsing again. He wished the tea was still warm, but when he thought about using his firesetting gift to warm it, the burns that were still healing inside of his body seemed to ache again and he thought better of it.
When he finally woke, it was growing dark outside. He made his way to the kitchen, found some food, and glanced at the pile of mail that was building up in the spot where they always set it. He scoured through it until he found the newspapers from the past few days, reading in fascination about Jere’s endeavor into the political field. To anyone else, Jere’s speech might have looked planned, but Wren could tell that much of it was anger, fury even. He had thrown a full-blow fit when Wren was seized, and he had let it become public on purpose. From the looks of it, plenty of people had been swayed.
As he started to feel better, he realized just how quickly and effectively his reasoning had been tampered with. He had been trying so hard to protect his firesetting gift that he had let himself bleed dry. He knew how much Jere hated causing problems or even being noticed in public. He had done both to get Wren back.
Isis and Jere came in from the clinic, chatting about the massive surge of clients they had gotten since they were allowed to treat slaves again. From the sounds of it, everyone in Hojer had simply been waiting, hoping that Jere’s ability to treat slaves would be restored. Wren couldn’t help smiling; Jere was really at his best when he was healing.
“You’re awake,” Jere noticed, a smile spreading across his face.
“I’ll give you guys some time alone,” Isis suggested. “Let you guys get all the sappy shit out of the way without me.”
For a moment, everything seemed normal. Wren laughed, nodding his thanks to Isis as she made her exit. But that left him alone with Jere, and he still couldn’t forgive him for everything.
“Are you all right?”
Wren didn’t know how to answer. “No,” he said, honest, but then he shook his head. “Yes... I mean... I’m not dying or anything, Jere. I’m not about to have some sort of breakdown. But I’m not all right, and I need you to heal me, but it makes my skin crawl when you touch me. It hurts.”
Jere nodded. “Part of that is the injuries that aren’t healed under your skin. The rest... I don’t know everything they did to you, but I have an idea.”
“So it’s in my head.”
“Doesn’t make it any less real.”
Wren was willing to try to rid himself of the real part though. “Heal me. And do it right—I don’t even care if it hurts. I know it can hurt to heal over a bad healing job. Just make me feel normal again.”
“Okay. Do you want me to put the mind connection back?”
If he was being honest, that was the last thing that Wren wanted, but a part of him insisted it would make him feel more normal. “Yeah.”
Jere didn’t look like he believed him, but he agreed anyway. They went into the living room, sitting next to each other, and Jere placed his hand on Wren’s head. In just moments, Wren felt everything tingle, not quite hurting, but not feeling good, either.
“Sorry, love,” Jere whispered, running a hand through Wren’s hair. “Your nerves aren’t very happy about being rearranged. I’m not hurting you, am I?”
Wren shook his head. So many other things hurt far worse in ways that nobody could heal. Jere was talented, though, and before Wren knew it, nothing hurt. He felt the burns disappear completely, the effects of the days of dehydration and starvation vanish, and when he looked at Jere, he could see just how sapped his lover was.
“I think I can manage the remainder if I just rest a little,” Wren reminded Jere. “No need to bleed you dry for me.”
“I would.” Jere had stopped the perfectionist healing, but he looked at Wren desperately. “If you wanted it, I would.”
Wren shook his head. “Just put the mind connection back.”
Jere nodded, and with a brush of his hand, the old connection that had been so active for years buzzed back into life, linking their energy and letting Wren into Jere’s emotions. He was amazed by how relieved Jere was, how excited, how hopeful. He was surprised how scared he was.
“I’m okay,” Wren promised. “I’m just shaken up.”
“I was so terrified that I’d lose you,” Jere admitted. “I’ve always thought I was doing enough... I thought you’d be safe.”
“We both did,” Wren reminded him. On impulse, he leaned into Jere, pleased to feel his lover’s arms around him again. He still wasn’t sure how close he wanted to get, but this was a good start. Now that Jere was back with him, everything seemed safe again. His firesetting gift was tucked inside of him where it belonged, and all he had to do was work on forgetting everything that had happened to him. He wanted to go back to normal.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” Wren decided. A part of him almost flinched at answering so bluntly. He had been slapped for giving answers like that so many times in the past few days, but Jere just nodded. Wren figured his emotions were giving him away; he had been hiding them quite well during the evaluation, but now that he was home, even he could tell that he was projecting emotions strong enough for everyone else to feel.
“Did you tell Kieran that you got me back?” he asked, thinking about how difficult the empath would find it to even be around him right now.
“Not yet,” Jere realized. “I was so happy to have you back, and then the clinic opened again... I really should let her know.”
“I’ll go,” Wren suggested. The opportunity to get out of the house seemed spectacular.
“Are you sure you want to go alone?” Jere asked, a nervous look on his face.
“Yes,” Wren decided. He wanted the opportunity more than he wanted almost anything else at the moment.
Jere didn’t fight it, but Wren could tell how uncomfortable it made him. He gave Jere a kiss, wrapping himself in the feeling of Jere’s skin for a few more minutes. It was becoming familiar again so quickly.
“I can make time to come with you,” Jere offered.
Wren shook his head. “Nothing will happen to me; if it does, you’ll come for me. Besides, I need to do this. I can’t just hide. It’s not healthy.”
Jere nodded, and Wren was glad he understood. Wren had spent so long learning not to be afraid of things; he couldn’t stand the thought of unlearning it. He was nervous as he left, checking twice to make sure he had a pass, and more than a few times during the quick trip to make sure Jere was there in the mind connection. There he was, dependable as always.
Wren was comfortable in the telegraph office; nothing here reminded him of anything. There was a wait, because of the approaching voting day, and he stood patiently in line, surprised when one of the slave employees eyed him up.
“Excuse me, are you Doctor Peters’ slave?” the girl asked. She had three envelopes in her hand.
“Yes,” Wren said, nodding.
“Would he mind if
I gave these to you instead of delivering them?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. “We’re so busy. I won’t get through everything today, and I’ll be in trouble.”
“Of course,” Wren said. “Not a problem. I’m his authorized receiver for official mail. I can sign for you, if you’d like.”
The girl’s face lit up with relief. “Thank you so much!”
She subtly shoved all three envelopes into Wren’s hand, as well as the receipt proving she had delivered it. She gave Wren as smile as she hurried off, likely to get more messages to deliver.
As he waited in the long slave line to send his telegraph out to Kieran, he glanced at the telegraphs Jere had received, wondering if they were from his mum, or maybe his sister, or even Kieran. He was surprised to see two major hospitals and a town mayor as the senders. Looking casual, as though he had any right to read the private correspondence, he opened them and examined the content.
Three job offers; all unsolicited, in response to the press release that they had sent out. The move had been a taunt to Hojer and a reminder to clinic patients, but it seemed that some hospitals had taken note of Jere. One could be easily discarded; it paid less than half of what Jere was making in Hojer, and was in a slave state. The other two were more unsettling—one was from a distant slave state, not one that was reciprocal with Arona, but it paid nearly double, and came with a full-time staff and free assistant. The other was a hospital in Sonova. It didn’t pay as well, and it didn’t come with as many benefits... but it wasn’t in a slave state. It was in Jere’s home city, the city he loved.
Wren had always wondered what would happen if Jere got some sort of invitation to take an amazing job back in Sonova. Would he really turn it down just to stay with Wren? Would he regret missing it? Suddenly, Wren understood exactly why Jere hadn’t said a word to him about the possibility of freedom. Wren was frozen, terrified, and he hadn’t the slightest idea of what to make of it.
“Are you okay?” Jere checked in through the mind connection. “You feel off, scared. It just hit me.”
Wren wanted to shield it, but he didn’t. “There’s a big line here. Something just reminded me of something unpleasant.” He wasn’t completely lying. The thought of Jere leaving was unpleasant.
“All right,” Jere agreed. Wren could feel the warmth through the connection. “See you soon. Love you.”
Wren smiled slightly. He loved Jere, too. And he loved that he was in Hojer. He folded up the telegraphs, sticking them into the inside pocket of his jacket. He would tell Jere about them, but maybe after the SRA had been voted on. It was only a few days away, and they needed the time to relax. They had all been so stressed lately.
When he got home, he forgot all about the mail. He was tired, as was Jere, and they fell into Wren’s bed, into each other’s arms. All he wanted was to be with Jere, and to hope that the SRA passed successfully. He was starting to feel like that might be enough.
Chapter 32
Flames
It was days before Wren could stand the thought of fire again, much less the thought of being in the room where he had burned his master to death.
No matter how well Jere had healed him, he couldn’t erase the memories, and Wren just kept feeling the burns on his skin, the way that the “evaluators” had touched him, all over, while he waited helplessly to be saved. A part of him wished he had just burned them all alive.
Jere had been kind enough to try and excuse him from the clinic, but he needed the work, needed something to feel normal. A part of him screamed to give up, to go back to how he had been before, but the deal that Jere had arranged with President Clemente and the new protections that The Slavery Reform Act could grant him gave him the tiniest bit of hope. He was going to get things back to normal, him and Jere, or maybe they’d even make them better. He just kept reminding himself of that fact every time one of the terrifying memories forced its way into his consciousness. He was determined to regain a sense of normalcy, and one of the things he wanted most was to feel comfortable fucking Jere again.
Business at the clinic was still slow, and he and Jere had hours to play and touch and explore each other.
“Get in the shower,” he told Jere, just a few minutes after they closed up in the clinic. “I think I’m ready to go back into our bedroom again.”
Jere didn’t say anything, but the wide smile that spread across his face conveyed his feelings pretty quickly. Wren spent some time gathering the supplies he wanted to use that night, shuddering as the memories kept creeping back in. He had been through worse than this, he reminded himself, preferring to think about Jere.
Once everything was set up, Wren stripped off his clothes and joined Jere in the shower, startling him for a moment as he grabbed him from behind, wrapping his arms around Jere’s waist and pressing against his back. It felt good not to be the one being startled.
“Welcome back,” Jere said, turning in Wren’s arms so that they were facing each other. He leaned in, pressing his lips lightly to Wren’s.
Wren trembled at the touch, but for the first time in days, it was a good tremble. “I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to join you.”
He loved kissing Jere, and touching him, and there was something strangely erotic about the simple act of showering together, reaching around his wet, slippery body to grab some soap, or to adjust the angle of the showerhead. Even when they weren’t fucking, or even touching, there was a sparking current of eroticism between them. More than anything else, the feeling anchored Wren in the moment.
He made up for the extra time Jere had on him in the shower with his speed gift. Hindered only by the constraints of the water pressure, he was able to soap up and shampoo his hair in mere seconds, standing there and smiling as the water did its work, washing the suds down the drain, swirling with the ones coming off of Jere. On impulse, he reached over and entwined his fingers with Jere’s, watching the pattern.
“I missed you so much,” Jere admitted.
“Me too.” Wren wasn’t too proud or shy to admit it anymore. “I knew I’d make it back to you. I belong here. With you.”
Jere leaned into him. “I love you. I always want to be with you.”
Wren held him close, thrilled with the calm, contented love that he could feel from Jere. His words, his body, his emotions—they all told the same story, and it mirrored Wren’s feelings. “I love you, too.”
They stood there until they were rinsed clean in the stream of water, then they took turns toweling each other off. It was nowhere near as efficient as taking care of the action by themselves, but it was more fun, and more intimate, just like showering had been. Not only that, but it provided them with an opportunity to touch and tease and work each other up—an opportunity which they both needed.
By the time they moved to the bed, Wren’s hair was nearly dry, his short style lending itself more to quick drying than Jere’s did. They maneuvered into bed, legs and arms and lips all mixed up together, and they stayed that way for a good long while until Wren pulled back, separating a little.
Jere smiled up at him. “What are you planning?”
Wren tried to hide his own smile. “Whatever makes you think I’m planning something?”
“Because you’re always planning something devious to do to me in bed,” Jere replied, smiling even wider.
“I may have something in mind.” Wren had quite a lot in mind; he had been planning it for days. “It’s been a long time, remember?”
“And so you sit around and think up sexy things to do to me?” Jere was clearly looking forward to it, despite having no idea what Wren was planning.
Wren pulled himself back, then stepped out of bed. “But of course. Can I restrain you?”
“I thought you’d never ask. Want to blindfold me, too?”
Wren shook his head. He needed to see Jere’s face, to make sure they were both safe. But he wouldn’t say that out loud. “I want you to see what I’m doing to you.” He watched, pleased with himself, as
the words made Jere shudder, his eyes growing wide with excitement.
Wren retrieved the cuffs that they were both so fond of, quickly attaching Jere’s arms and legs to the frame of the bed, keeping his legs spread wide for easier access. He felt his own pulse race at the sight of the cuffs, and not entirely for good reasons. He forced the bad memories away.
“I thought we’d start with a nice massage,” Wren said, pulling out some oil and pouring a generous amount onto his hands.
“I can think of some other uses for that oil,” Jere teased, earning him a smack on the inside of his leg, enough to make him yelp and squirm. “That hurts! The oil makes it more stingy.”
Wren could tell his lover was playing. He appreciated the playfulness. He dipped his head down to kiss and bite at the spot where a faint red imprint of his hand decorated Jere’s leg. “Don’t be such a smart-ass, then.”
“Maybe I’ll just save it for when I’m lying on my stomach. I like it better when you’re slapping my ass.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Wren taunted. “But for now, you’re all locked up. Can’t go anywhere. I could just keep smacking you like that for hours if I wanted to.”
Jere’s smile indicated that he wouldn’t actually be opposed to that at all. Still, Wren had other plans for the night besides hitting Jere until his skin glowed, and his plans started with lots of oil and lots of touching. He worked his way up and down Jere’s body, getting his muscles to relax and making his skin glisten, each touch making them both grow harder and harder. Once he was satisfied that his actions had achieved their desired goal, he gave Jere a long, lingering kiss, and then eased himself out of the bed.
“Wait just one minute,” he teased, speeding out of the room to grab a cup of ice and returning with it just as quickly. Jere remained where he was cuffed, looking completely comfortable in a way Wren could never understand, but had certainly grown to appreciate. For Wren, restraint was one of the most terrible tortures, a fact that had recently been reaffirmed. But Jere loved it, and Wren had come to love restraining him. He shut off the lights when he returned, leaving them both in the near-darkness, as the sun was just about to set.
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