by J P Sayle
His anger came through loud and clear, right alongside the accusation. The officer’s contrite look and immediate apology offered little solace to this fucked-up situation as far as Martin was concerned.
“I can only apologize. I was unaware that my colleague was having difficulties containing Mr Cummings. He will be held in custody until charges can be filed.”
Martin’s dejected sigh filled the silence. Brad was the only priority for him right now. Tugging his wallet out, he shoved his business card towards them. “Here, these are all my contact details. But you’ll find me at the hospital if you need me.” Martin turned back to Brad, caressing his forehead gently. “I won’t be leaving him alone, not for a minute.” His tone brooked no argument.
Martin worried his lip and watched in a blur as they loaded Brad into the ambulance. Locking up, he left Princess with the young couple next door, not knowing when he would be back.
His heart broke as Princess’s loud cries followed him to the car after promising he’d look after Brad. His mind hadn’t gone to their connection. He was not ready to face that on top of everything else.
Guilty tears overflowed, blurring Martin’s vision. Wiping quickly, he reminded himself Brad needed him now, so crashing his car was not an option. Swallowing past the ball of tears, he focused on staying behind the ambulance. He wondered what they were doing to him now. He just wasn’t going to consider that they wouldn’t be able fix Brad, even if the tube they’d inserted to help him breathe had been beyond scary. “He will be fine. He will. I know it.” Watery words did little to help when every mile felt like an eternity.
Martin’s mind buzzed with confusion. There were so many words he didn’t understand. People scurried everywhere, doing things he didn’t understand. The ones he understood scared him witless. Ventilator. Possible brain damage. Fractured ribs and deflated lung. None of these things sounded good.
Mindless with worry, Martin gnawed his lip till it bled. He gulped past the lump in his throat that only seemed to be growing. The questions, his brain rattled with them. The only saving grace was they’d never questioned his next-of-kin status. He was convinced he was moving through sludge as his feet dragged behind the trolley as they took Brad to intensive care.
His eyes burned with unshed tears. He felt sure by now there would be none left after crying and wincing with each tube they’d inserted. There just seemed so many. Brad’s bed space was starting to resemble a space station. Equipment flashed, beeped, and buzzed incessantly.
Martin rubbed his tired eyes, not aware of how long he’d been there. Hours, days, weeks, who knew? His hope was dwindling as Brad showed no signs of waking. He laid his head next to Brad, and fingers brushed softly, conscious of his injuries. Martin nuzzled Brad’s neck, needing to find his scent. His disappointment crushed when cool, silken skin barely held a hint of ripe cherries.
Tears dripped onto Brad’s neck. Martin followed their path as they slid into his hair. His tired mind tried to shut out his negative thoughts, and he whispered quiet words of love, hoping Brad could hear and come back to him.
Princess
Princess stood looking out the window, pining for Brad and Martin. It was all her fault. If she hadn’t been ignoring Brad’s erratic behaviour, hiding out in the garden, then she might have stopped the attack sooner. It was only the loud voice she didn’t know that had her hackles rise.
Too late to stop the blows before she could attack. She cursed her mother, disgusted as she was she hadn’t warned this was going to happen. Tears leaked across her furry cheeks. She felt justified she’d broken the rules without thought of the consequences. Martin had needed to see, to help push Brad home. The price they’d both paid had been feeling and experiencing everything Brad had.
His pain had crippled her, but Martin’s will had kept her from breaking the spell. They’d suffered every heartbreaking step. Even now she could still feel it resonate. Princess was sure she would never forget the pain or rid herself of those images.
She knew she would be punished, just unsure if they would take her from Brad. Despair held tight, and the link to her mother blocked. She buried her head in her paws. Her righteousness was cold comfort if she lost Brad. Martin would keep him safe now. It was his turn to carry his soul.
Brad
Brad wondered why he’d shoved cotton wool in his ears. Had Martin been snoring? Going to move his hand up, it took a second to realise he couldn’t move. Panic rose. Why couldn’t move his arms, his head? What the hell was that noise?
There appeared to be a continuous buzzing. What the fuck was it? Was there a car alarm going off in the street? Had he got drunk again and was now suffering the effects?
Trying to blink, he was alarmed when warm skin touched his face. Who was that? His heart pounded, making pain scream down his side. He attempted to pull in air, but his body rebelled and made his stomach heave.
What the fuck was wrong with him? Loud croaking sounded near his head. His eyelids felt heavy, weighted down. Had someone put something on his eyes?
Oh God, who was that croaking like a frog?
Where was his voice? He swallowed past the razor-sharp pain in his throat.
Where was Martin? He needed Martin. Feeling his anxiety escalate, making his head swim, he tried to speak. Struggling to move, he heard someone speaking, and he tried to focus, but the buzzing was making it difficult.
Please shut the frog up. Hell, the croaking sounded crazed. Where the hell was he? Where was Martin?
Brad used all his will to open his eyelids a fraction. A familiar dark musky scent washed over him. Martin, oh thank God, he was here. The terror abated a little until his brain registered the unfamiliar surroundings.
Pain morphed as he struggled to move and find Martin. Darkness closed in, dragging him back under the cotton wool cloud as his mind howled in distress.
Wet. Why was he wet? Had he fallen asleep in the bath?
God, he hurt everywhere, but his head and chest seemed to hurt without provocation. Brad tried to take stock of what was wrong, but it all seemed too difficult. What was wrong with him?
Brad moved his arms, glad they obeyed this time. His relief was short lived. Pain wrenched his side, piercing behind his eyelids.
“Calm down, baby. It’s all right. I am right here. Don’t try to move. I am going to press a button. It will give you some pain medication.”
Why was Martin sobbing? Wetness soaked his neck as he tried to turn, needing to see Martin.
“W…h…a…t h…a…p…pen…ed?” Croaking, oh Christ, he was the frog from earlier. Oh hell, what happened to his voice?
“Shush, baby. I will explain, but you mustn’t talk. You had a tube down your throat for a few days to help you breathe. They told me your throat would be sore for a little while. I can give you some ice chips if you want some?” Martin’s expectant look had him trying to nod.
Brad blinked, clearing his vision. Grateful they did what he asked. He wanted to reassure himself Martin was here and not a figment of his imagination.
Martin’s tired, red-rimmed, baggy eyes had black circles surrounding them. They appeared sunken into his grey face. His normally glowing skin was sickly grey. Dark greasy hair stuck up in every direction, seeking God knows what. Probably hot water and shampoo, he would guess. His rumpled T-shirt smelt of imbued stale sweat. Brad’s nose twitched in disgust.
Oh lord, Martin needed a wash.
Brad opened his mouth for Martin to place the ice on his tongue, loving how it numbed the rawness, “More.”
The simple act had him feeling dog tired. Eyes dropped closed. Sleep pulled him under its comforting blanket. His fuzzy brain told him the questions could wait.
Brad stared out the window, watching the cars come and go from the small car park. He was bored from doing it for days, and he heaved a sigh. Instantly regretting it, he clutched his left side. He was impatient with himself. Martin would have his guts for garters if he knew he’d overdone it.
Huf
fing, he realized his mistake. He quickly copied what the physio had shown him, trying not to forget the rewards of breathing her way. He felt a little depressed that he’d broken his promise that he wouldn’t overdo it, but he was fucking fed up being an invalid.
Martin had only left to deal with a work emergency. Four weeks, twenty-eight days, God knows how many hours. He’d bet Martin knew. He’d never left him, doing everything the nurses would allow. Brad had never felt so cared for in his life, ever. Nothing had been too much trouble, even when Brad had let his frustration out. Not once had he complained, which only made Brad worry.
It wasn’t normal. Would they ever get back to where they were before the attack? The spark seemed to have died between them. He knew Martin loved him, but something was lacking. While in the shower yesterday, Brad had tried to touch Martin. He had shut it down quickly, leaving Brad feeling worse.
Fiddling with the ties on the gown, Brad wondered who designed them. Why couldn’t they have a nice pair of pyjamas with opening at the side, so his arse wasn’t always hanging out for everyone to see?
The heartfelt sigh had him clutching his side, getting more fed up that his body wasn’t healing as fast as he’d like. Four bloody weeks and still his body rebelled when he tried to put more than a spoonful of air inside it. They told him he was lucky, that the excursion across the beach and up the rocky path could have put his already collapsed lung in danger of permanent damage.
He couldn’t say he was feeling very lucky. His memories of what went down were still blurry. He was thankful for small mercies when they had explained the extent of his injuries. Martin had tried to fill in the gaps. Brad was convinced he was leaving something out, but not sure what.
The police had come and interviewed him. Brad’s past gruesome nightmares relived for all to hear. The only thing that helped was Martin’s large hand that held him throughout, offering silent support.
He was thankful they had shipped his father back to the UK, with a permanent withdrawal of any residency on the island. Brad could only imagine how humiliated his father would have been at this. He chuckled. Serves him right. The only issue now was he would have to hash it out again in court. His father had pled not guilty to the charges, even the one of attempted murder.
His arrogance was laughable when the police witnessed him first-hand attacking Brad. He shivered, grateful he’d been out of it, not adding to his nightmares. Brad grabbed his water, letting it ease his dry throat.
He just wanted to get on with his new exciting life. The one he’d been building with Martin. He’d had plenty of time to consider what he’d been doing in his past. Lying in a hospital bed didn’t give you much else but time to think. The most astonishing thing he’d discovered was he’d only been existing, nothing more. Getting by with just him and Princess, he’d let life pass him by.
Well, now he wanted a life bright enough to obliterate his past, and he wanted that with Martin. Martin had taught him so much and given so much in the past couple of months. Hell, he couldn’t even envision his life without him now. This brought him back full circle. Brad needed to fix whatever was troubling Martin. As far as Brad was concerned, that meant getting out of this hell hole. He had passed all their endless tests. He was allowed to go home today, thank Christ.
His stiff muscles ached, and he rolled his shoulders to release the tension. Brad glared at the bed. It was kinder to let them sleep on the floor. At least you knew why it was rock hard. His Tempur mattress sang sweet nothings to him in the middle of the night. Lips bowed up, the smile stretching wide. Oh to be curled up on Martin in his bed. Dimples flashed. Tonight. He couldn’t wait.
He might not be up to anything strenuous, but cuddling, now he’d dreamed of that. Hand holding was okay, but it wasn’t full-on body cuddling. He shivered at the thought of all that naked skin under him. Yes, please.
He worried his lips. Would Martin still want to? Yesterday’s failed experiment had doubts creeping in, nagging at him. The distance, he could feel it there between them. Something in his expression distressed Brad. Martin looked haunted.
Lost in thought, he didn’t hear the nurse come in.
“Hey, look at you all packed and ready to go.”
Brad wiggling in anticipation, his arse making buttons to leave. “Come on, Pam, you know I have been desperate to escape.”
Her knowing smile had his eyes gleaming until she pushed the wheelchair forward. “Your chariot awaits. I will take your bags to the front door. Martin rang up to say the guys at the front have let him park for a few minutes, under duress.”
Laughing beside himself, Brad scowled at the wheelchair. Pam’s arched expression had him moving into the seat. He clutched his side as he moved carefully. “Stop making me laugh. You know that hurts.”
He was going to miss Pam’s cheeky grin. Brad’s matched hers as she wheeled him to Martin.
“For God’s sake, I can walk. You don’t need to carry me. They told you I was to exercise to help my lung capacity.” Exasperated words fell on deaf ears. Brad settled into Martin’s strong arms. There was no point in arguing anymore. They had been fighting all the way home about Martin moving in. For him the fight had been epic, zapping all his strength.
Brad wanted him living with him. It was the thought that he only wanted to now so he could babysit him that was grating on his last nerve. The silence was deafening between them as Martin made him feel more like a naughty child who wouldn’t obey. This was not how he’d envisioned his homecoming.
This was the final insult. He wouldn’t even let him walk into the house. Huffing air hissed over Martin’s neck. The tiny shiver had Brad reconsidering. Hiding the devilish glint, he buried his nose and mouth into the crook of Martin’s neck, letting his teeth graze the sensitive skin. He hid his grin when Martin faltered, and his arms locked tighter. Oh yeah, there he was, his tiger.
Getting more into it, Brad used his mouth mercilessly, sucking and teasing him with his tongue. Salty sweat with a dark musky aroma burst across his taste buds. Yummy, his Martin. Brad’s lips and tongue moved up, assaulting anything they could reach. Martin’s trembling limbs made his large body judder.
Sucking harder, he marked him. Brad felt the sharp inhale. His smile grew with each shaky step Martin took. He was grateful for the loose joggers hiding his now erect penis. He didn’t want to scare the neighbours.
Gripping Martin’s silky strands, he twisted his head, wanting Martin’s mouth.
“Baby, shit, let me get through the door, please.”
Martin’s whining had his cock fighting to escape. Ignoring him, Brad dived right in, letting their mouths reacquaint. Breathy moans floated between them. Brad ate every one, feeling alive for the first time in weeks. His legs tried to twist around Martin.
“Arghhhh.” Brad gripped his side as pain stole his breath for a second.
“I knew it. See, now you have hurt yourself.”
His cock wilted under Martin’s steely gaze.
Martin stormed inside, and Brad again felt like a naughty child. “Put me down now.” Words lashed out harshly, making Martin halt only for a second. He glowered, ignoring Brad’s demand. He carried him upstairs. Brad heaved a heavy sigh and winced. He tried to hide the movement when Martin lowered him to the bed.
“I know you’re in pain, so stop pretending. Bed, now. And there will be no arguments.”
The hard stare had Brad shutting up. He didn’t want to admit he was knackered. The minute Martin left the room, Brad let his eyelids droop. The trip and arguments took their toll, and he let sleep take over.
Brad turned over as he blinked sleep out of his eyes. He stretched and glanced at the clock, feeling a little shamefaced that he’d slept for two hours. Blaming the closed curtains for blocking the light, he rested back, grinning when he felt Princess’s furry body next to his side.
“There’s my Princess. Did you miss me, girl?” Carefully, he cuddled her into his chest. “I missed you. Martin told me what a warrior you were, pr
otecting me from the evil bastard.” Brad rubbed his nose against hers. He felt the wet tip as their eyes met. “I love you. You have always been my guardian angel, right from the beginning.” He snuggled her closer, their love the one solid thing he had always counted on. It flowed between them, coupled with understanding. “Nobody gets me the way you do. Do you think you were made special just for me?” Wistful words had him chuckling.
Princess’s head butted his, making him chuckle.
“Of course you agree. Now all you need to do is fix Martin. Do you know what’s wrong with him?”
Coughing from the doorway had him wincing. He was caught red-handed or was that red-cheeked as he felt the flush deepen under Martin’s scrutiny. Brad gave Martin a sheepish smile.
“Are you going to talk to me about what’s wrong? And before you interrupt and say nothing, as you have a thousand times over the last couple of weeks, I can see it. I feel it every time you have the look of defeat in your eyes. It’s like you went to war and lost.” The words seemed to hang between them, but he needed to face this, face Martin. If their relationship was over, then he wanted, no needed, to know. He’d survive, well, maybe.
Martin’s eyes roamed the room, avoiding looking at him, making Brad’s belly knot. His throat burned with unshed tears. Seconds ticked loudly; anxiety had him clutching Princess tighter, needing her warmth as cold invaded him at the possible loss of Martin’s love.
“I thought I’d lost you. That you wouldn’t survive.”
Brad listened to the trembled words. Tears drenched Martin’s distressed face. Leaping up, he paused, hoping Martin hadn’t noticed him flinching. Brad wrapped his arms around Martin’s waist, laying his head on his shoulder, offering himself.