Fire and Agate

by Andrew Grey

  Chapter 11

  IT TOOK longer than Chris expected before they allowed him to go home. He was already past stir-crazy after two days, and when they let him get up to use the bathroom after five days, it felt like a damned accomplishment. Two days later they finally discharged him. The doctor wanted to send him to a rehab facility, but Chris was having none of it. “I’m going home.” And that was final.

  His parents had returned to Florida a few days ago, and Chris was so grateful. They were scheduled to leave for a vacation in Europe in less than a week, and Chris told them to take it and have a good time.

  “Who’s going to take care of you?” his mother asked, and Chris told her that he was going to be fine with Pavle and Nanna.

  When he was discharged, Nanna and Pavle picked him up at the hospital, with Nanna driving him home. He was never so happy to reach a destination in his life. Pavle helped him inside and got him settled on the sofa, with some drinks on the coffee table, pillows, and a blanket.

  “Nanna staying here,” Pavle explained, and Chris was already too tired to argue. He really was hoping for some time alone with Pavle, but he could also use some of Nanna’s cooking.

  Two days of spending his time on the sofa and his nights upstairs were much better. Pavle slept with him, and that made all the difference in the world.

  “Marie come tomorrow,” Pavle said once they were behind closed doors and Pavle had gotten him settled in bed.

  “Is she going to help you stay?” Chris groaned as he shifted position in order to get comfortable. Pavle nodded. “That’s good, then. You have your documents, that will help. She can tell us what we need to do.” He slid over and patted the edge of the mattress so Pavle would sit. “Don’t you be worried. Between her and me, and the other friends you have, we’ll get this figured out.”

  “What if say I go?” he asked.

  “Then we fight harder,” Chris answered. “Because I’m not letting you go. I was so scared….” He ran his finger over Pavle’s lower lip. “I thought, in the hospital when I woke up, that I wasn’t going to see you again.” His heart rate increased as he thought of how helpless he was.

  “I no want go.” Pavle leaned in, and Chris gently hugged him closer. “I never want to go. This home. You home.”

  Somehow Chris had to make sure it stayed that way.

  “I’M SORRY I didn’t get up to greet you,” Chris said when Pavle let Marie in that afternoon. He’d heard the bell and thought it was part of his dream at first, the one where Pavle…. Chris pulled his mind out of his crotch and shifted his legs to hide the evidence of what thinking about Pavle did to him.

  “I understand, and I’m happy that you’re doing better.” She shook his hand, and Chris motioned to the chair as he slid over to give Pavle some room to sit. Nanna had gone back home, so it was just the two of them now. Chris really liked the alone time with Pavle. It was the best part about being home.

  “So, what do you think about Pavle’s chances?” Chris asked as Marie pulled papers out of her bag.

  “Well, you found his documents, which is a huge hurdle. The next step is a petition for asylum, and that will involve a hearing unless it’s rejected summarily.” She sighed. “We have to prove a couple of things. First, we must be convincing that if Pavle returns home, he’ll be persecuted.”

  “What mean?” Pavle asked, turning to him, already biting his lower lip.

  “It means that if you go home, you’ll be treated badly.”

  Pavle nodded until his head might fall off. “In Serbia, I shame.” He shook until Chris gently stroked his back. “Gay, shame. They no understand I… what I….” He looked about ready to cry. “They might kill….”

  “It’s okay. Remember that we’re doing this so you can stay.” Chris needed to reassure Pavle as best he could, but this process was going to be painful. Most legal things were to some degree. “What else do we have to do?”

  “I’ve looked up information on Serbia, and what Pavle says is backed up by case history and societal beliefs. But what I need from Pavle is a statement of what he believes will happen to him if he returns. They will take into account a sincere belief on the part of the petitioner. We also need people to speak on his behalf. I can do that, and so can you. But we need individuals respected in the community.”

  “Reverend Tyrone?” Pavle asked, and Chris nodded with a smile.

  “That’s a great idea. In this part of the country, having a reverend speak for you is probably a plus. We can ask him on Sunday.” Hopefully Chris would be up to getting out of the house.

  “Okay.” Pavle turned back to Marie, who continued going through the application.

  “I’ve done a number of these. I’ll complete the form and run it past the department’s legal counsel to make sure he thinks it will pass muster.” She stood. “Is it okay if Pavle and I go into the kitchen? I can work with him to get this completed and his statement written.”

  “Sure. Pavle stayed with Briggs for a few days while I was in the hospital. Put him down to speak for Pavle as well. I’ll ask him the next time he calls.” This was suddenly very real for Chris. There was still the possibility that if they messed this up, Pavle could be sent home. He squeezed his hand, and Pavle leaned down for a kiss.

  “You sleep.”

  Chris had been doing so much of that lately, he was afraid he’d sleep through the rest of his damned life. He didn’t argue, though, and Pavle went with Marie toward the other room. “Oh.”

  “Yes?” Marie said as she was about to pass through the door.

  “Nanna, my grandmother, she can explain the kind of reception Pavle might receive if he were sent home. We also have more current immigrants who are willing to testify as well. We can call her, and I can arrange to bring her to the hearing. We’ll find others and get a parade of people if we have to.” Whatever it took.

  Chris yawned. God, he hated being this damned weak, and sure as hell hoped his strength started coming back soon, especially when Pavle stood in the doorway, his small jeans-encased butt drawing Chris’s gaze like a magnet. Damn it all, this was not the time to be having those kinds of thoughts. He turned away and laid his head back, closing his eyes.

  “WE GO upstairs,” Pavle said late in the evening a few days later. Chris had spent a lot of time sleeping and going from the bed to the sofa and was finally feeling stronger. Pavle and Marie had spent hours together, going over everything Pavle could expect, completing forms, and talking on the phone. They had what they needed, and she was going to run everything through the department lawyer before getting the petition submitted.

  “I’m not really tired.” Chris had napped and watched television for most of the damned day, so now he was wide awake and actually had some energy. He pushed the blankets away and slowly got to his feet. He moved carefully, checking for pain, but it was blessedly absent. “Tomorrow I have to go see the doctor, and hopefully the sutures can be removed.” He still wasn’t going to be able to go back to work for a few weeks.

  “Come on. It time for bed.” Pavle turned out the lights as Chris navigated the stairs.

  He made it to the top and went to the bathroom to take care of business and brush his teeth. Then he got into bed, waiting while Pavle got ready.

  The door opened and Pavle walked in, naked, and slipped under the sheets. In seconds, injury or not, Chris went from fatigued to raring to go, but it didn’t last long. Dammit.

  “You still not sleepy.” Pavle grinned.

  “I don’t think I can do anything,” Chris whispered.

  “Maybe. But I do.” Pavle slipped Chris’s shorts down past his hips, fingers gliding over his length. All thoughts of pain, being tired, and anything else to do with his injury flew right out the window in two seconds flat. “You sexy man,” Pavle whispered.

  “So are you.” Chris kissed Pavle, tasting his sweet lips as he slid his hand down his side and over his hip to cup a pert buttcheek. “So very sexy.” Chris swallowed. “I love you.” He drew Pavle
into another kiss. “You take good care of me.”

  Pavle tightened his fingers, and Chris realized just how good of care Pavle was about to take. He groaned and tried not to tense up, but dammit, that was impossible. “You let me,” Pavle whispered.

  Chris managed to get both hands around Pavle, stroking down his back and over the curve of his butt. He had never been sure about touching him there, afraid it might bring up memories for Pavle that Chris didn’t want surfacing when they were making love.

  “Have question. We never….” Pavle paused and then patted a buttcheek. Chris didn’t need an interpreter for that. “You no want to? Think I dirty.”

  And just like that, Chris realized there were other things they should have talked about.

  “No. I didn’t know how you would feel about it,” he explained quickly. “I want you to be happy.” He held Pavle tighter. “I can’t do that now, but when I’m better, I want to do it with you. I want all of you, to be everything for you.”

  “You are. You home,” Pavle said and kissed him harder. Chris’s erection had faltered, but it returned with a vengeance as Pavle stroked him and then carefully slid down the bed.

  Chris tried not to move. Pavle’s lips closed around him, and Chris gasped, trying to hold any stress or pain at bay. Not that he felt anything other than Pavle’s heated lips around his shaft. Excitement raced through him, and Chris panted, his eyes crossing. He lowered his gaze as Pavle’s raised his, and their eyes met. He saw Pavle and only his Pavle, the man who held his heart. Chris guided Pavle upward until their lips met, a kiss searing its way past his heart to his soul. He knew in that instant that if Pavle left, he was never going to be same. Part of him would be missing.

  “If you have to go, then I will go with you,” Chris told Pavle. “I will dig ditches or raise vegetables for us to eat if I have to. But I won’t let you go.”

  A tear slid down Pavle’s cheek.

  “I love you with all my heart.” That was the simple truth, and it was so much more than sex and desire. He wanted Pavle with him for the rest of his life. “I want you to sleep next to me and be the first thing I see when I wake up. That’s what I want, and if that’s here or anywhere else, it doesn’t matter.”

  “I love you too.” Pavle ran his fingers through Chris’s hair. “I want make love.” He got out of bed, pulled at the drawer next to it, and put the lube and some condoms on top of it. “I want you to love me.”

  Just like that, there was no way for him to say no. Not that he had the willpower to turn down a request like that, one that matched his own heart and what every fiber of his being screamed at him to do.

  Pavle climbed back on the bed, grabbed the lube, and used it to prepare himself. Chris wished he could see exactly what Pavle was doing, his cock throbbing as his imagination took over, his own fingers itching to experience the wet heat that awaited behind Pavle’s back.

  “God….” Chris swallowed hard, trying his wet his suddenly dry mouth.

  He nearly came when Pavle rolled the condom down him. He had to think so many unsexy things he was probably never going to be able to be in the room with a salad again and not sport wood. But somehow he kept control of himself. Pavle lay down next to him, and Chris slowly rolled onto his side. Then Pavle guided him closer, pressing to him. Chris held the headboard, willing himself not to move as Pavle’s body opened around him. He let go and slowly enfolded Pavle into his arms.

  “Is this okay?” Chris whispered into his ear.

  “This wonderful. This making love.” Pavle pressed back, and Chris gasped as he was surrounded, pulled deeper, pleasure surging out of his control. Making love was one thing, but not being the one in control, having his pleasure at the discretion of someone else, was hot as hell. Pavle lightly rolled his hips, sliding along Chris’s length, and Chris’s eyes crossed. His hips ached to surge forward, but any sudden movement was out of the question.

  “Be still,” Pavle whispered, placing his hands on Chris’s, holding Chris as he held Pavle. Pavle moved slowly, long and languidly, driving Chris out of his mind.

  Chris slid his hands down Pavle’s chest and belly until he found his cock. He closed his fingers around him. A shudder went through Pavle, and Chris groaned himself. He was already approaching the edge fast, his head feeling light, breath hitching and coming in gasps. This was mind-blowing, and Pavle seemed to know exactly what he wanted, speeding up just as Chris reached the precipice of desire. “Pavle, I….” Words failed as he tumbled into release, with Pavle following, his cock throbbing on Chris’s hand, Pavle’s gasps filling the room.

  Pavle lay still, and Chris didn’t have the energy to move. “You okay?” Pavle asked, and Chris chuckled.

  “I’m more than okay. I think I’m either perfect or dead.” He meant it as a joke, but Pavle scooted forward. Chris gasped as their bodies disconnected, and then Pavle turned over.

  “Not dead,” he said, “so, perfect.” Pavle smiled, and Chris slid forward, kissing him.

  “You’re the one who’s perfect.” Now that he could see Pavle’s dark brown eyes, he could get lost in them completely. Hell, he hoped he was never found. Chris yawned as fatigue caught up with him. He tried to stifle it and failed completely.

  Chris got out of the bed and took care of the condom. Pavle helped him strip the sheets and remake the bed. Well, Pavle did most of the work, and then, exhausted and happy, they settled under the covers. Chris had just closed his eyes when his phone chimed. He picked it up, expecting a message from his mother. It was Briggs.

  Call me. Now.

  He pressed the number in his contacts and lay down, with Pavle snuggling next to him. “Hey, Briggs. I was going to call you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Would you be a witness to stand up for Pavle? We are applying for asylum for him.”

  Briggs sighed loudly enough that it sounded like wind through the phone. “Yes, I will, and that’s good news. Do it fast. Apparently, our illustrious boss has figured out that the various law enforcement agencies have gotten what they needed from Pavle, so he called INS to inform them about his status. The asshole.”

  “Okay. Well, we’ve headed that off.” Chris tried to sound positive for Pavle’s sake, but that was a shitty thing to do after all Pavle had done.

  “Let me know when the hearing is and I’ll be there with bells on.” Briggs hung up, and Chris messaged Marie to explain the urgency.

  The lawyer filed the papers just before the close of business, Marie sent back.

  Chris set his phone on the nightstand, wondering when this drama was going to end and he was going to have Pavle for always. Chris closed his eyes and hugged Pavle to him, telling him good night. All he got in response was a sleepy mumble, which was a relief. One of them might as well sleep, and this way, Chris could watch him all night long.

  Chapter 12

  “YOU SUPPOSED to rest,” Pavle scolded the way he had for the last week every time Chris tried to do anything.

  “I need to move a little, and it’s not like I’m going to haul a bunch of dirt in the yard.” Chris sat in one of the outdoor chairs and put his feet up. Pavle got him a pillow and made sure his head was supported. “Marie just called, and tomorrow is your asylum hearing at the federal courthouse in Harrisburg. It’s being heard by an immigration judge. Briggs, Marie, Pastor Tyrone, and myself are all going to speak for you. Nanna is going to come as well.”

  Pavle swallowed. “They all come?”

  “Yes.” Chris took Pavle’s hand, drawing him closer. “Every single one of those people cares about you and wants to see you happy. They would all miss you if you left.” He tugged Pavle closer. “I would miss you most of all because you have my heart.”

  “You have mine too,” Pavle said rather haltingly. “I never think I….” He wiped his cheek. “I think, who would love me? Then I find answer.” He pulled his chair over and sat next to Chris. “Thank you for love.”

  “It’s easy to love you.” Chris found it the simplest t
hing he’d ever done in his life. He leaned against Pavle’s shoulder and listened as the breeze rustled the leaves that hung overhead.

  A knock on the gate pulled Chris out of his happy thoughts, and Pavle got up to open it for Briggs. “Want drink?” Pavle asked.

  “Water would be fine.” Briggs approached, still in his uniform, and pulled up one of the other chairs. “I think we’ve finally pulled together a full picture of the shooting.” He pulled out a notebook. “Your neighbor was anything but quiet while he was in jail, and apparently he passed the word around that his neighbor had some guest that he thought was Russian… or talked funny. He thinks it was Pavle who blew the whistle on him.” Briggs shook his head. “The guy was stupid, but he had to blame it on someone else. We think it’s possible that information got to our leak, but we aren’t sure. What we are certain of is that Pavle was spotted at the church, and they kept watching it until he showed up again.”

  “Then why shoot me?” Chris asked.

  “We don’t know. I think he was trying to take you out before he got to Pavle.” Briggs paused as Pavle returned, accompanied by ice clinking in the glasses. “Thank you.”

  “So, is that it?”

  “I think so. I can’t make any guarantees, and my advice is to be careful and watchful, but they would be stupid to try a second time. The entire department is on alert, and no one is happy that one of our own was shot.” Briggs squeezed Chris’s shoulder.

  “Do we know who the informant is?”

  “I think I do now, but it’s going to be damned near impossible to prove it unless someone talks. With the FBI rounding up people, he’s going to go as quiet as possible and stay that way.”

  “Unless we give him something too good to pass up,” Chris offered.

  Briggs huffed. “This isn’t television, and we aren’t going to put anyone in danger. But we will keep our eyes and ears open. Eventually they’ll slip up and we’ll have them.” Briggs emptied his glass and set it on the table. He must have been thirsty. “I’ll be here tomorrow to pick both of you up.”