A Walk Through Fire

by Felice Stevens

  Ash opened his mouth, but the phone rang, cutting off whatever spiteful remark he might have planned. Drew watched alarm flare in Ash’s eyes before he hastened over to the night table and picked up.

  “Hello?” His breathless voice caught, then became sharp with excitement. “No, no, it’s not too late. I told you to call no matter what the time. Are you sure, Martinson? Tell me everything you know.” He listened for a moment, and Drew could tell by the expression that lit up his face, something important had happened. “Wait, can you hold for a moment?” Ash put the phone down and gave him a sideways glance.

  “Um I have to take this call, and it’s private, so…” Ash shrugged, his gaze flickering back to the phone.

  Son of a bitch, he’s dismissing me as if I worked for him. Hurt, Drew gave a tight nod. “Sure. See you around.” Ash had already returned to the phone as if he didn’t care what Drew’s answer was.

  Before he left the room, he heard Ash’s voice, raised in excitement. “You found both of them, or one? Tell me everything.”

  I’m doing this to try and help him. That was the justification Drew played over and over as he listened in the doorway, trying to make sense of the conversation.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After he hung up the phone with Martinson, instructing him to spare no time or expense to continue his search, Ash glanced at the clock by his bed. Surprised to see it was only one thirty in the morning, and restless enough to know he wasn’t ready for sleep, he threw on a pair of pants and a shirt, drank a bottle of water in a few gulps, and left his apartment. His body hummed with excitement as he exited his building, automatically heading toward a bar he frequented when he wanted anonymous, hot sex.

  The dim, below-street-level bar was packed, he noted with satisfaction. There would be no problem working off the buzz of pleasure that had built up in his body during Drew’s aborted visit.

  At the thought of Drew, regret slammed through him, hard and vicious, but he quashed it down, unwilling to face those feelings at the moment. He slid into a vacated seat at the bar, and Danny, his usual bartender, had his vodka poured and ready.

  Though still somewhat light-headed from the evening’s earlier drinking, he needed the sweet, beautiful oblivion only alcohol could give him to help him forget what a piece of shit he’d been toward Drew.

  “Hello Ash, how’s it shaking tonight?” Danny winked at him as he shook a martini for another customer.

  “Good, my man.” The vodka slid down his throat like water. “Another one, Danny. It’s been a bitch of a night.”

  The bartender laughed as he poured his drink. “I know how you feel, bro. Some nights all you need is a stiff one.”

  He looked at Danny, and they shared a laugh. Ash gulped the second one as quickly as the first, wanting to drown out the voices in his head scolding him for his shitty treatment of his friend. Two drinks in this short a period of time, coupled with his earlier vodkas, had him swaying on his seat, slightly dizzy and unfocused.

  As he tossed down half of his third drink, a hand touched his back and caressed his shoulder. The heat of the man’s palm seared his skin through his shirt. He jerked away, stood, and faced the man whose hand remained on his body.

  Long, buttery-yellow blond hair framed a pale, high-cheekboned face. Deep brown eyes stared at Ash with a hunger that kick-started the blood racing through his veins. Ash raised a brow as he pushed the hand away. “Can I help you?” Yeah, he was drunk but Ash didn’t care. His body burned and he needed to quench his hunger.

  A slow smile crept over the blond man’s face. “I know how I can help you.” He took Ash’s hand. “Let’s go to the back.” The press of the crowd pushed Ash’s body against the stranger, and he could feel every dip and curve of the man’s lithe, muscled torso through his thin T-shirt.

  This was what he came for, to drown himself in another hot, willing body. As he walked to the back, Ash couldn’t wait to feel the man’s lips slide over his cock. He needed to bury himself inside of someone, anyone to forget about Drew.

  “Hey, man. This is good, right?” They entered the restroom, and the man locked the door behind him.

  Ash didn’t answer, having no use for petty small talk. He unzipped his pants, then closed his eyes and stroked himself, picturing the face of a hot, green-eyed angel with silky dark curls staring up at him. His head spun from all the vodka he’d gulped down at the bar.

  Wet warmth enveloped him as a twisting, flickering tongue swept over the head of his cock. He widened his stance, bracing his back against the wall, and none too gently began thrusting into the willing mouth.

  His mind blanked until all feeling and sensation centered around his groin, and he grabbed the head of the man on his knees before him. “Christ, Drew, fuck me, yeah.”

  Hazy with desire, he opened his eyes, expecting to see the dark-haired Drew at his feet. At the sight of his hands buried in blond straight hair, not black curls, Ash grew confused. His blurred mind couldn’t separate who kneeled between his legs, from who was in his head and he yanked himself away, his erection wilting.

  “Wait, what the fuck is going on? Where’s Drew?”

  The blond let go of his cock with a wet, sucking sound, his hand still wrapped around his own erection. “What the hell, man? Are you on something?” His pale face, flushed with lust, tightened. “I was close and so were you.”

  Dizzy and slightly nauseated, Ash shoved his now limp cock into his pants and zipped himself up. “Uh, look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come in here with you.”

  By now the other man had finished jerking himself off and stood, brushing his knees with his hands. “You’re right. I don’t know who this Drew guy is, but you need to figure it out if you’re gonna call his name when your dick is in someone else’s mouth.”

  The stranger unlocked the door and opened it. “Better get your fuckin’ head together, man.”

  Ash leaned back against the coolness of the tiled wall. A perfect ending to this night. He relieved himself, washed his hands, and splashed cold water on his face. After leaving the bathroom, he wove his way through the crowd, paid his tab at the bar and returned home.

  Now three o’clock in the morning, Ash fell into a restless sleep, where the old nightmares mingled with new. He jolted upright to a sitting position in the bed, eyes wide open and bulging with alarm, a name on his lips.

  “Drew…”

  With a sinking heart, Ash remembered he’d sent Drew away, and not nicely either, but rather dismissively and brusque, as if they’d finished a business transaction. Rather like the way he usually ended all his sexual encounters, except this time he knew the man’s name and had to see him again.

  “Shit, I really fucked this up.” Wide awake now, he peered over at the glow of the bedside clock. Five thirty-five. Well, wasn’t that fucking wonderful. Knowing there was no sleep left for him tonight, Ash tossed back the covers and walked naked into the living room. The bottle of vodka awaited him like a long-lost friend, offering warmth and forgetfulness. Exactly what he needed after the complete shitstorm of a night. He poured a little into the glass and drank it back straight.

  Warmth, such as it was, seeped into his chilled body but couldn’t erase the cold manner he’d treated Drew. “Fuck.” He poured out a little more, the neck of the bottle knocking against the rim of the glass, but he couldn’t bear to drink this one warm. With a sigh, he grabbed the bottle, crossed the living room, and entered the kitchen. After filling his glass with ice, he poured it full and waited a moment, letting it chill, as he wrapped his mind around the phone call from Martinson.

  The news he’d received tonight was the closest he’d ever come to concrete information about one of his brother’s whereabouts. Luke might be in New York City. He trembled, knowing that no matter how many millions of people lived in the city, he and Luke might soon see each other. And once again, he’d allowed alcohol to numb his fear. He was such a goddamn coward. That’s why he’d pushed Drew away, or tried to. At the thou
ght of Drew, he drank a little more vodka. How many did that make tonight? Not nearly enough to dull the searing pain, remembering how he’d basically thrown the best man he’d ever met out of his apartment.

  Could he finally let someone share his hurt, his life? Could he tell Drew about what really happened to him as a child and young man? He pulled open the drawer. He might be a little drunk but in the twilight of early morning, he knew the ritual and could do it with his eyes closed.

  In a macabre sort of way, the smooth edge of the knife handle comforted him. Still holding his drink in his left hand, he slid to the floor, his legs pressed up into his chest so his chin rested on his knees. With deliberate care, he placed his drink on the floor, then rubbed his right arm, searching for a smooth, yet unblemished spot.

  The thin blade slipped into his skin, and he welcomed the sting. A thin line of blood appeared, and he smiled.

  Absolution.

  Each cut on his body reminded him not only of how he’d failed his foster brothers, but in a twisted way gave him strength to push the nightmare of Paul Munson’s abuse behind him. Now he could add the cruel and callous way he’d treated Drew to his litany of failures. It didn’t matter if it made no sense to anyone. He knew. It was his body and his choice to do with it what he wished.

  The knife clattered to the white tiled floor, sending drips of blood splattering across the pristine surface. He watched with almost clinical disinterest as the tiny rivulets of red trickled down his arm to land on his knee. Years of experience now enabled him to judge when to stop to prevent losing too much blood. In the early years he’d had some close calls and the heavier, deeper scars to show for it.

  Drew would know how to help him prevent further scarring, but he wanted them, needed those scars to prove he was still alive and capable of feeling pain.

  Most of his life, he’d felt nothing at all.

  Being the selfish bastard he was, until he’d spoken with Esther and understood the horror she’d not only witnessed but endured and triumphed over, he’d never thought about anyone else’s suffering. That tiny woman had wormed her way under his skin like no one else had. After leaving her house yesterday, he’d planned to hurt himself, badly, but then Drew had come by.

  Drew. It all came back to him and that damn sweet smile he couldn’t get out of his mind. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?” he groaned to no one in particular. Maybe not. More tired now than drunk, he lifted himself off the floor and, after rinsing his arm off in the sink, picked up the phone on the counter.

  After four rings a husky, sleep-roughened voice answered. Shit, the man sounded so fucking sexy, even half-asleep.

  “Ash? What the fuck are you calling me at six in the morning for?”

  Half-asleep and angry as well. He suddenly lost his nerve and swallowed hard.

  “Are you all right?” Now Drew sounded both awake and anxious. “Do you need—”

  “I need you, Drew.” He leaned against the countertop, the hard edge digging into the naked skin of his back. “I fucked up, and I’m sorry.”

  “Hold on a minute.” In the background he could hear rustling, and all Ash could picture was Drew naked in bed. Though his mind ached with vodka and tiredness, his body proved itself wide awake as he looked down to a large, healthy erection bobbing in front of him. He walked to his bedroom and lay down, slowly stroking his cock.

  “I wish you were here with me.” His lips pressed against the receiver as he breathed the words into the phone.

  Drew sighed into the phone. “Come on, Ash. You told me to leave, dismissed me, as a matter of fact. Let’s leave it at that.”

  “No, I can’t.” He continued to stroke himself and couldn’t contain a groan that came from his lips.

  “Are…are you jerking off while you’re talking to me?” Drew’s voice rose with incredulity. “Seriously?”

  “I wanted you so bad tonight. I can’t stop thinking of your body and your cock.” His hand was slippery with all the wetness leaking from the engorged head of his dick. It was easy to slide his hand up and down, faster and faster.

  “Ash, please.” Drew’s voice came through the receiver, pained yet curiously short of breath.

  “Are you hard too, baby? Did you like it when I took you in my mouth, hmm?” Ash’s hips thrust upward now, pushing his cock through his fist.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this over the phone.”

  “Touch yourself, baby. Go on. Do it where my mouth was and pretend I’m there with you now. Remember how my mouth was on you? All hot and wet and tight?” Ash jerked his cock a few more times, and then his orgasm came upon him, thundering in his chest and lighting up his balls. He spurted hot, creamy jets across his stomach and chest.

  “This is crazy.”

  “Mmm. I was thinkin’ of you, baby. Of your hot sweet mouth and your tight ass.”

  There was no sound, and for a moment he feared Drew had hung up.

  “Are you still there?”

  A heavy sigh blew in his ear. “Yeah. I don’t know, Ash. We have so much to talk about.”

  “Talk is overrated. Stroke yourself, come on. Harder and faster. Think of how good it felt before. Remember me licking you, sucking you, and touching you all over? Your skin is so soft, baby. Like a juicy ripe peach.”

  A small sound came through the earpiece and Ash imagined Drew naked in his bed. He wanted to be there with him now, watching he face tighten with desire and see him lost in passion. His own bed, always a sanctuary, now seemed barren and cold.

  “I wanted you so bad tonight, Drew. I wanted to sink into that beautiful ass of yours and pound you into my bed. I wanted to make you mine. Can you imagine me inside you, baby?”

  Ash could imagine it; he’d spent weeks wondering what Drew looked like naked beneath his clothes and now he knew. Pale soft skin, silky black hair and a lean body he could spend hours examining with his mouth and tongue.

  “I’ve never, ah…”

  “Had phone sex?” Ash chuckled. “Obviously. But everything I said was the truth. I know I fucked up earlier.”

  “Well, I know how you can make it up to me.”

  “You’ll come over tonight, and we can finish what we started?” The pleading tone in his voice at one time would’ve made his skin crawl if he’d heard it from another man’s mouth. How quickly things changed, how he’d changed. But the fact remained that he wasn’t yet willing to let Drew slip out of his life.

  “That’s not what I was thinking.”

  With a sinking heart, he knew exactly what the good doctor was thinking. “Oh?” If his casual tone didn’t fool himself, it certainly wouldn’t fool Drew.

  “Look, Ash. Like I said earlier, aside from whatever this physical thing is between us, tonight disturbed me on so many levels.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss.”

  The frustration in Drew’s voice came through the phone receiver loud and clear. “Are you kidding me? I know something terrible happened to you when you were young. Your arms are covered with self-inflicted scars, and you say there’s nothing to talk about?”

  “It’s not for you to get involved in. It’s my personal life.”

  “You are fucking unbelievable.” Drew laughed, but there was zero humor in him. “I shouldn’t get involved because it’s your personal life? Ash. My dick in your mouth is about as personal as two people can get with each other. Shit, if things had gone on…”

  He swallowed hard, and Ash closed his eyes.

  They were two immovable objects banging against one another, neither willing to give an inch. Like a wave smashing against a rocky cliff, the wave would forever pound against that immovable wall, but the cliff would always stand strong and battle it back.

  “It’s my life, Drew. There are certain parts of it I don’t share, not with you, not with anyone. I can’t.” He got off the bed and, still naked, pulled the curtain back and stared out the window. Cabs whizzed down the early morning streets of Park Avenue, beginning their early morning pick
ups.

  “What are you afraid of? Can I at least ask that?”

  Everything. Letting the curtain fall, he turned his back on the window and returned to the bed. “I don’t know. My whole life I’ve been afraid. When I was younger, I was afraid to be alone, without a family. Then when I was taken in”—his voice caught, and he coughed—“I was afraid for the younger boys in the house. After a while I hated the person I became.”

  “What type of person? I’m not afraid of you, even though you try and hide behind a mask, like you don’t care about anyone or anything.” Drew’s comforting voice had Ash curling up in his bed, hugging the pillow to his chest. This was nice, talking to Drew, almost normal, but he knew it was all a façade.

  “Someone without a soul. Someone who wouldn’t think twice about hurting another person.”

  “I’m sure you had a reason.” No hesitation or doubt in Drew’s tone. Like he actually believed in Ash as a decent human being.

  “My fear and selfish actions left my friends…my brothers…alone with him and defenseless. I should’ve been stronger and fought back, or found another way to deal with it.” Funny how talking it out now released a bit of the tightness in his chest. For the first time in forever, he could breathe a little deeper.

  “How old were you when all this happened?”

  “I was eighteen when I left there.” Eighteen, scrawny, and scared to death. He’d never even been out of the small town in Georgia until he ran away that night.

  “You were a kid, for Christ’s sake. Stop beating yourself up over it.”

  “You don’t understand, Drew. I left because I couldn’t take it, and I knew if he kept coming to me, one night I was gonna kill him. So I left when I shoulda stayed and had it out with him.”

  Drew scoffed. “You said the guy was a cop. He would’ve put you in jail or killed you himself and made it look like an accident.”

  Visions of Luke’s tearstained face flooded his mind. No matter how many years passed, Ash could never forget how Luke pleaded with him not to go. “Maybe it would’ve been the best thing.” No more pain.