Don't you dare touch him.

Foster was lying near a trash can on his side in an alley when I found him. His clothes torn and hanging off in pieces. For a second time stopped, I couldn't believe my eyes and my heart started pounding in my chest.

"Oh God no….no please no"

I ran the short distance to the injured man lying unconscious and cradled him in my arms lightly slapping his face to get even a slight reaction from him, but all I found was burning skin and blood on slightly parted swollen lips. There was a large purple bruise on Foster's right cheek.

I put my arm under Foster's and the other under his knees, intent to lift him. My blood turned cold as I felt stickiness between Foster's legs, for the first time noticing the lack of lower garments, I brought my hands back only to find red coating my fingers.

I choked back a sob and solely focused on getting him to a hospital.

I swooped Foster up in my arms and ran.

"Mr. Jaro?"

I looked up from the seat at the doctor standing beside me, a grim expression on his face. I stood up quickly and loomed over him.

"how is he?"

"He'll be ok, he is unconscious but out of danger. He lost a lot of blood and there were severe rectal tears but its all been taken care of. It's just...these kind of cases don't come out clean, there's usually some mark left on the victim's body and soul for a long time- let's just hope he is emotionally strong enough to get through. You can see him."

The doctor was sympathetic and kind but it didn't calm my nerves any.

"He is strong, stronger than you think, he looks frail but...he is, he has to be," I said more to myself than anybody else.

"I am sorry for what happened to him"

I gave a weak nod and walked into Foster's room.

He looked too small in the large hospital bed or was he just that delicate? I didn't care. All I could think of was that when Foster would wake he would tell who did this to him and then, I will make them pay, all of them, slowly, painfully.

I sat on the chair beside his bed, holding his hand; I looked at the angelic face of my lover and vowed vengeance on everyone who had hurt him.

When Foster woke up, his first instinct was to scream and run as he felt hands holding him down, pinning him, clutching at his waist, his wrists, touching him, but all he could do was groan as he couldn't even find the strength to turn his head.

He blinked dizzily and tried to clear his head. White lights came into focus along with grey blue walls and he blinked some more to keep his eyes from hurting. As the surroundings cleared he felt a hand holding his, he jerked his hands away he didn't want anyone touching him.

The movement woke me and I realized Foster was trying and failing to move away. In an instant I was up and moving towards the struggling form.

"Foster, Foster its okay, its just me."

But Foster was too terrified to hear and comprehend anything and doubled his efforts, "no, no, no please let me go," he whimpered and sobbed.

"Shh, its me, look at me Foster its Gabe." 

I took Foster's wrists in one hand, carefully avoiding the deep blue bruises just visible under the white bandages and pressed the emergency button at the head of his bed.

Foster continued to struggle until tears welled up in his eyes and he couldn't breathe, he slumped back, mouthing weak nos. He felt a hand gently running through his hair and waited for the usual harsh treatment he had been enduring for the past day. A moment later he opened his eyes and blinked through tears to look at the perpetrator of the tender gesture only to find himself staring at the man he loved.

Shock and relief flooded through his system and he was he was suddenly up and into Gabriel's arms, sure, strong, protective.

I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his hair. Foster was trembling in my arms and the pain was returning but I didn't want to let go.

I gently lowered him on the bed as the doctor came into the room closely followed by a nurse and a uniform clad officer who asked Foster a few questions. But Foster was tired and in pain, unable to answer right away, it was too soon. They left with a promise to return when he was feeling better.

Foster turned towards me who smiled at him before the smile faded and the question I wanted answered blurted out.

"Who were they Foster?"

Foster was quite for a moment, eyes downcast. I did not press instead watched as he swallowed a few times and closed his eyes. A few tears escaped the closed lids before he said in a voice barely above a whisper, "I don't know, they weren't familiar."

I didn't say anything just reached out to wipe the fallen tears and cupped the side of his face. Foster leaned into the touch as I said "We will find them, some samples have been sent to the lab and the results will be back by tomorrow. I'll find them and-" I was cut off as warm lips met mine softly, hesitant discomfort evident when Foster pulled away, too soon.

"Don't. Let the cops do their job please they're dangerous and I...I need you." I nodded and moved to lay down with him holding him close.

"Mom and John-"

"I called them. They're boarding a plane as we speak. They'll be here by morning. Try to get some sleep."

"John's ok?"

"Still has a broken leg but he's fine. Now go to sleep before I ask the nurse to give you a sedative." Foster turned to look at me his expression hopeful "you'll stay?"

A mischievous smile graced my features, "I got 'permission' to stay with you."

Foster shook his head but a smile slowly appeared on his face and he settled closer to his partner. I nuzzled his head "you take a lot of space," I said playfully. 

"No I don't you do," I laughed and kissed Foster's forehead. Soon we both drifted off.

When the nurse came to check on the patient, she didn't say anything seeing the two men curled against each other. It was evident that they loved each other more than anything.

The next day when I woke up, my neck was stiff and my right leg asleep but I didn't complain. I smiled warmly, placing a hand over the fist in my shirt making sure not to disturb the IV. I have Foster in my arms and I am never letting go.

Thankful Thursdays

Today I am thankful that....

1. I didn't die.

2. No one's tried to kill me...yet.

3. Having Ashaya (my adorable little kitten) around has been excellent. 

4. Ashaya didn't bite any of my limbs off...yet.

5. Jayden is letting me stay at his place.

6. I have people who will stay by my side no matter what's going on. 

7. Jayden has successfully removed the shard of metal from my chest ANNNND my bruises are healing up quite nicely. 

8. Foster is sorry and still wants me. 

9. My medical trial has been more successful then I had originally assumed.

10. I have plenty of mixed tapes, records, and cheesy horror movies, to keep me thoroughly entertained.

11. My license has been revoked. You're probably wondering why I'm thankful for that...well, I don't honestly know...

12. I looooooove lists.

13. Here's a sappy one...YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. People still like me. Not sappy enough? And others still love me. STILL not sappy enough?? I think you need to put on your sap goggles cause I that was quite the generous amount of sap. 

-Dexter

    &

Gabriel.

And on that note Gabriel and I shall retire to the (surprisingly comfortable) floor and get some much needed sleep.

What the hell?

What the hell is wrong with this app?! I post something today and it ends up saying it was posted on the 21st. Jfniuaerflibeqrfliqer it's aggravating beyond belief. So here it is...

http://polarisbookmonkey.blogspot.com/2013/05/breaking-up.html

-Dexter

It's Tuesday already

Hot tub. XD (For all my sick friends).

I was surprised that I didn't think Foster would dump me. Foster didn't seem the type and I knew that Foster's bond to me seemed just as strong as mine was to him. But as we walked, I knocked around the hypothetical situation of how I'd handle things if the two of us were ever separated. It was an intriguing thought, but one that was derailed by seeing Foster's nude form revealed as we stripped before entry to the hot tub (one of the good things about this specific hotel room).

Foster scrambled in first, making a happy, exaggerated groan of pleasure as he sank into the hot water. I followed quickly, my feet bumping into Foster's, undistinguishable ones under the swirling bubbles. I tugged my feet back to my side, not sure what was appropriate after the mixed signals I'd been getting. A moment later, Foster was clarifying by stretching a little and seeking out my feet for a round of footsy. I dropped a little lower in the water, extending my long legs and offering them up to Foster's explorations. Toenails scraped along the underside of my calves and I made little pleased noises, my smile becoming a grin as I watched Foster's face brighten as well. I had been worried (and quite angry) when Foster had pulled away from me earlier.

It wasn't long before Foster crossed the tub, staying low so just his head was above the churning water. He slid up my body, straddling me until he came to rest just forward of my knees. I wondered if I should move; what I should do. My hands found Foster's thighs; Foster's hands found my hips. A moment later Foster's hands came rather boldly together in the middle, the fingers of one hand sinking into pubic hair and the other grasping me. I sucked in air, my fingers tightening on his legs.

Foster jerked me steadily, starting immediately at full pace, staring forward at me so intently that it was kind of creepy (okay really creepy). It was like Foster was doing this because he thought he needed to, or otherwise with some sole intent to get me off. There was no attention to his own pleasure, and in that I suddenly recognized myself in him. You're damaged, Foster. I'm not the most empathetic person in the world, but I could still see it plain as day. Broken up inside, all jagged shards cutting yourself over and over, wishing someone would take the knife out of your hands.

I cajoled my lover forward by raising my knees and tugging on him with my fingertips. I ran my hand from Foster's sternum down his belly, watching as my lover's lids fluttered and his face went slack before I even got to the prize at the end of the treasure trail. Oh yes, so keyed up. Foster was completely hard and he gasped and briefly choked when my fingers clasped him. Foster scooted up closer with a sudden whimper, my pleasure was abruptly forgotten as Foster clung to me. Let me take it all out of your hands, Foster. Give up responsibility. Give up the guilt. That has to be what's cutting you up inside - being with me. And yet here you are.

"I'm going to bend you over the side of this hot tub and fuck you," I whispered into Foster's ear, earning me a quiver and a hurried nod.

With one more parting yank, I shifted Foster off and stood, stroking my cock idly while Foster arranged himself. I worked up as much saliva as I could. It was the only form of lube we had. I rubbed it over Foster's presented hole, probing a finger within. Foster moaned wantonly, pushing back at me.

"You are really turned on," I murmured. Yeah, that's it; that's what's going on here. You're desperate. Desperate and just as weak as I am, not wanting to lose what you've got. I'll show you what you've got!

I pushed inside in several hard bucks, knowing it hurt from the strained tone Foster's voice took on. Foster squirmed restlessly, trapped by the sensation, so tight that for the moment, I couldn't progress. Growling, I reached out and caught Foster's wrists, holding them down against the cold tile. I bent next to Foster's head, snarling, "I have a use for you, Foster, and I'm going to take you whether you like it or not. Give it up. You're not going anywhere until I get what I want." I bit Foster's shoulder, fingers tightening on his wrists, hips shoving forward as Foster whimpered and put his forehead on the tile. I felt the man open a little around me, letting me move finally, and watched as Foster writhed under me slowly, shifting in my grip and pressing back into me.

I struggled for a moment on getting enough traction to make the hard thrusts he wanted, quickly finding a way to brace myself against a step. Long legs are really useful at times. I proceeded to give Foster the skewering he was begging for, pounding into him hard and fast, feeling him so tight and hot around my shaft.

"Hurt me!" Foster bit out, turning his head.

What? That's new. I hardly missed a beat, though, transferring Foster's wrists to a single hand and burying my other in Foster's lovely hair. I jerked his head back, arching him as Foster shuddered, gasping and mewling roughly as his ass clenched around me. Coming so soon, hm? I pushed Foster's head back forward, not quite hitting the floor, and released his wrists so I could move both hands to his hips, bracing myself to deliver a quick, brutal hammering. Foster's passionate cries intensified as I forced him to stay at his peak, overstimulating him for long seconds until I finished as well.

Panting, I froze in place, letting the aftershocks flow through me, making me twitch at odd moments. Foster, from what he could see of his face, with long, hair partially screening it, looked dazed. I pulled out gingerly, having previously felt what I now saw. I grabbed one of the towels we'd intended to use in drying off later and cleaned myself, then dabbed a corner in the water and spread Foster to clean him as well.

"Sorry," Foster croaked about not having been adequately prepared.

I rolled my eyes, not bothering to answer Foster's concern. I'd had people's blood and guts on my hands. This sort of minor mess wasn't a big deal. I gave a second check over myself and my lover before tossing away the towel, deciding we were clean enough to sit in the hot tub. As I'd expected, Foster scuttled into my arms straight away, leaning against me and sighing with complete relaxation. I put my arms around him and squeezed a few times, feeling how loose and comfortable Foster was against me. It confirmed all my expectations that Foster wanted, or needed, some manner of mindfuck to make him feel human.

"You matter to me," I rumbled, and Foster immediately buried his face against my neck, just as he had the day before. "You're not alone," I added, feeling the hot prick of wetness at the corners of my eyes, breathing harder and confused that I was the one comforting Foster, who wrapped his arms around me and held me tight, nodding. "I'm with you," I finished, resting my cheek against Foster's head.

Breaking up...

"I need your help."

That got Blake's attention instantly. Foster's tone on the phone was breathless and frightened. "Of course. What- what's happened?"

"Gabri …" There was such a long pause on the other end that Blake shifted his cell phone, glancing at the screen to see if he'd dropped the call. Right before he was going to say something, Foster continued, "You knew we were together, didn't you?"

Blake blinked. He'd been surprised when Gabriel had moved in with Foster, but Blake had believed what he'd been told. Besides, Blake really wasn't all that wild about Gabriel becoming a permanent fixture in Gabriel's apartment, so he'd been happy when the man moved out. He'd thought Gabe would couch-surf a while at Foster's no differently than he had at his own apartment. Guess it wasn't the couch he was sleeping on. "Uh, yeah. I guess. I- I knew he was living with you."

"Well, we're not together anymore. I need you to...I'm worried he might try to kill me, Blake. He was really angry. He...I left. He was wrecking the place."

Shit. But on the other hand, if Gabriel wanted Foster dead, then it was well within his capability to effect that. That he had not was a very good sign. "O-okay. Where are you now?" Blake put away his breakfast. He wouldn't get a chance to eat it. He'd have to call work, too, and tell them he wouldn't be making it in today.

"I'm," Foster sighed, sounding exhausted and on the verge of breaking down. "I'm at a coffee shop. Blake...I just want him out of our house for a few hours, so I can get my things and...I'll move back into my apartment. This was all a huge mistake. I've ruined everything I've ever touched..." And then he broke down into tears.

Blake stared up at the ceiling, listening to Foster sob brokenly about how he'd caused all the misery in Gabriel's life. Blake's mind wandered to when Foster was beating Gabriel up his twisted demented experiments. It sort of limited his sympathy. He interrupted, "Okay, okay. Listen, I'll go by your place and I'll get D-Gabriel out of there. I'll call you when the coast is clear, okay?"

Foster sniffed loudly. "Okay."

Blake hung up and shook his head. Great. Just great. He was not keen on the idea of being stuck between the two men, forced to intervene, but Gabriel was too powerful to risk leaving him to work it out himself and Foster was too incompetent. Blake raked his hair out of his face, sighed and headed out.

XXX

He knocked on the door of Gabriel's (and apparently Foster's) cabin. There was no answer. He tried the knob. It was unlocked. He pushed it open, calling out, "Hey? It's Blake. Anyone home?" He was met with more silence, so he pushed the door the rest of the way open. He wasn't too surprised to see Gabriel sitting on a stool at the kitchen bar, glaring daggers at him. Blake held up his hands in surrender and after a long, sullen pause, Gabriel looked back down and continued what he was doing. He had a cellphone or something similar disassembled and was doing something with the pieces. Blake had enough long association from being in Gabe's life to know that he often buried himself in devices when he didn't want to deal with the world.

He looked around the apartment. The walls were slashed, things had been smashed to fragments against them and much of the furniture was askew. The floor was littered with papers, broken glass and other items. He picked his way through them carefully. Gabriel ignored him pointedly. Blake stopped next to him.

His nightmare was being alone. He so wanted someone to love him, support him. He must have felt so special to have someone like Foster forgive him, or at least be willing to be with him. Blake looked back across the destroyed apartment, thinking about Foster's sobbing. Blake knew Gabriel and Foster had found love, even if they'd only been together for a few months. If they hadn't, Gabriel wouldn't have been so violent; Foster wouldn't be so shattered. The two had nearly as many issues between them as Blake and Dexter had, but without years with one another to work them out.

He reached out and put his hand on the back of Gabriel's neck, feeling the man instantly tense all over and hearing his breath catch. It was like Blake's touch was scalding hot or ice cold. Gabriel twitched a few times and slowly hung his head. Blake rubbed slightly. "Come on. You can work on that later. Let me get you out of here."

Gabriel turned his face away, breathing faster. "No. He might come back." There was a shred of hope in his voice, and an edge of misery that rent at Blake's heart.

He sighed. Maybe they'd just argued; maybe they could get back together. It didn't really matter though - both men needed a chance to calm down. "You need to see some different scenery. Come on." He tugged on him.

Gabriel's head snapped around, a snarl on his face. "He sent you, didn't he? To get me out, to make me leave?"

Blake's mouth opened and he hesitated, considering what to say.

"I can tell if you're lying, Blake," Gabriel growled, tilting his head. He shook off Blake's hand, sliding off the stool and looming over him.

Blake's eyes narrowed resentfully at the attempt to intimidate him, then he looked away. Gabriel was allowed to be angry, especially if he was in the process of being dumped. It would be like if Blake suddenly went back on his own forgiveness of Gabriel. Gabriel was different now and as proof - he might threaten, he might posture, he might even break things, but no one was hurt and it was so, so easy for him to hurt people. Blake swallowed. "Yes, he asked me to come. But I agreed because it was you."

Gabriel snorted and curled his lip. "Yes, of course. Can't have me off my leash, can we? I need a fucking chaperone and here's Blake Spencer to the rescue. See a chance to be a hero and you leap at it."

"That wasn't why," Blake said, tight-lipped. Gabriel knew which of Blake's buttons to push, that was for sure.

Gabriel snorted again and paced away into the kitchen, getting a cup out of the cabinet like he had a sudden need for a drink, and wasn't just trying to get some distance from the potential exposure of one of his weaknesses. "I don't believe you," he sulked and slammed the cup down too hard against the counter.

Blake frowned and leaned his back against the bar. "You said you can detect lies. Or is that only when it's convenient to you?"

Gabriel shot him a narrow-eyed, sidelong glance while he fussed with the cup and a teabag. He said nothing.

"Gabriel, it took me months to come to terms with what happened-"

"It's been months!" Gabriel burst out in agitation. With his words, the cup flew across the kitchen and smashed into the wall, pieces flying everywhere. Gabriel scowled at it and curled his fingers into fists, looking down and trying to breathe normally. His brows drew together in concentration.

He didn't mean to do that. Blake was both calmed and frightened by that. A flash of memory ran through his mind of all of his own emotions activating all at once, it was out of his control. Gabriel loved control. He thrived on it. He was obviously teetering on the edge here. Blake walked forward slowly and put his hands on Gabe's shoulders. Once again, the man responded strongly, but this was to sag and look away, his eyes glistening.

Blake drew in an uneven breath and pulled Gabriel into a hug. "I'm so sorry."

Apology

"What made you change your mind?" Dexter asked, wondering if he dared hope this sort of time together could be permanent, or at least repeat. That seemed to be what Foster was angling for.

"About what?"

"Being with me," Dexter said, dropping his eyes to Foster's chest, where his fingers were exploring down the mostly bare skin - so different from his own. He was taking quite a risk by asking, but it was something he had to know. He had decided Foster had no ulterior motive, but that still left the question of why. "You didn't want to, at first. You said no. I think you thought I was...going to use you." He looked off to the side, not at Foster at all, because Foster may well have been right, at that point in time, before we'd shared our first kiss. "And then after I hit you..." Why did you come back?

"I decided you were lying."

Gabriel's eyes came up to Foster's face, studying it with that blank look he was so good at using when he didn't want to reveal his feelings.

Foster went on, his left hand shifting so his fingers could card through the hair over Dexter's right ear, "This wasn't just a way to spend your time. You weren't bored. And...like you said, you're lonely, but it's more than that. I think I mean something to you. And if that's true, then maybe this is worth enough for Gabriel to stop hurting me." Foster didn't go so far as to say what would happen if Gabriel did not stop hurting him, but the conclusion was obvious and Gabriel had figured it out days before while worrying that he'd ruined things irrevocably. He was so glad he hadn't. Foster was unbelievably forgiving - but Gabriel had decided to take a leap of faith anyway.

He pulled Foster in for a kiss immediately, eyes squeezed shut and arms snaking around the man. When Dexter let go, he said haltingly, "You mean a lot. I'm … I mean I … I shouldn't have …" Dexter's face turned distressed. He didn't want to admit he was wrong, but he wanted the pardon anyway. Always with the shortcuts. So weak.

Foster smirked a little. "No, you shouldn't have."

Dexter's eyes snapped up to him, because that could mean so many things - shouldn't have come back, shouldn't have hit Foster, shouldn't have been who he was. Maybe I was wrong about how he feels about me. Maybe he still thinks I'm fucked up, no good, not worth it...I'm just the best he can do here, the only thing he's got and that's all. Nothing special about me.

Then Foster said, "But here I am, being with you, because I believe in you."

That hadn't been what Gabriel had expected. Relief washed through both of them (Gabriel and Dexter in other words), wiping away the depression and melancholy, leaving behind hope and a smile. "Foster, that's...really corny."

Foster leaned in and nuzzled at Dexter's face, lipping along his cheek. "Yeah," he agreed without apology. "We need to get cleaned up."

Dexter stretched, wriggling a little underneath Foster. It was a surprisingly pleasant place to be. Foster kept most of his weight up, but stayed close enough for contact. It had to be tiring for his arms, Dexter realized. "If you insist," he sighed happily, still having trouble believing his luck, but deciding not to question it. Hang onto him. Do what I have to do to keep him, to satisfy him. Figure him out. Figure out this relationship thing. I killed for my life. He's not asking for that much. I can do this. This can work. I'll be special, for someone, and I will finally matter.

-Dexter

    &

Gabriel.

At the park again.

The sheet, as it turned out, was for a double bed. It seemed plenty big until you had full grown men sprawling out on it. Or it would have seemed that way, if Gabriel would have laid down on it. He looked over the dimensions and said, "I think I'll just sit over here."

Gabriel, we've fucked already. Being all distant now is … you know, he did freak out and run off and we never even got any clothes off. Remember all that stuff I was telling myself about going slow? Very gently Foster hazarded, "Hey, can I talk you into something?"

"Yeah," Gabriel looked at him unsuspecting.

"Could you lie down here, face away from me, and I'll do the same, and we'll put our backs together?"

Gabriel looked from Foster to the middle of the sheet several times, face blank. "Touching?"

'Touching?' No, Gabriel, we'll be like four feet apart from each other and maybe we should build a fucking brick wall between us just in case. "Yes." Foster smiled a little and dipped his head. "Please?"

"Of- Yes. Of course." Gabriel swallowed and laid himself out, wearing a wondering expression.

Foster settled in behind him, wriggling a little to get his back flush with the other man's. "Thank you," he murmured. Gabriel stayed very still for several minutes before finally pulling his book over to him and beginning to read.

---

Foster put down the last comic book and sighed. It was nice to feel Gabriel breathing behind him. It stirred other thoughts. "What can I do with you?" he asked quietly.

Gabriel was quiet for a moment, before saying simply, "Anything."

"Anything at all?" You're either joking, unrealistic, or have no idea of your own limits. Or maybe what you mean is I can do anything and you don't promise to respond well to it...?

"Yes," Gabriel said, voice tight, "anything at all."

Foster turned in place and slipped his arm around Gabriel's waist, feeling the man tense all over. He rested his forehead against Gabriel's back and sighed, spooning against him and holding the man to him. After a very long minute, Gabriel rested his hand over Foster's and pressed it lightly against himself, giving a wordless approval to the position. Foster relaxed, holding him, and fell asleep.

TMI Tuesdays!

They have returned.

(His ceramic elephant is no match for your gun) 

So ask away! Don't be bashful people...I know where the majority of you live...bwahahaha! (That was more creepy then I had originally intended).

-Dexter

&

Gabriel.

Damn this app.

So I put a new entry on here today and wouldn't you know it it ended up on the May fourteenth entries place.

I don't understand why. It's probably due to the update. Curse this update. It wouldn't let me open the app.

So without further adieu...(drumroll please)...my new/not so new entry...

http://polarisbookmonkey.blogspot.com/2013/05/stay-away-from-me.html

The rest of my life

“I wouldn’t mind waking up next to you for the rest of my life,” we said, voice raw and unguarded.

Foster blinked, lifting his eyes from where he’d been watching his hand idly stroke our forearm. We'd all woke a few minutes before, but none of us was in any hurry to leave the hospital bed. Foster looked at me, considering what it might be like to be able to rely on someone to be at his side for that long. What devotion that took, and Foster didn’t doubt for a second that we meant it as completely as it sounded.

“I’d like that,” Foster whispered in reply, chest tightening as he realized how much what I had said sounded like a proposal and how much his answer, like acceptance.

-Dexter

    &

Gabriel.

Emma, I thought I'd make it up to you with something a bit more upbeat. 

Plane ride. (Jordan's request)

“You are so, so very ssssexy sssssscabe,” Foster murmured, eyes smoldering behind his bangs. I flicked one eye open.

“Foster. We’re on an airplane.” I snuggled more deeply into my comfortable seat. I'd never flown first class before, and I was enjoying it. The distance between ourselves and the nearest other travelers not ensconced in head phones certainly made Foster's…verbal indiscretions…less mortifying than they might have been.

“No one’s lisssning,” Foster pouted. Damn. He’d noticed too. Foster placed his hand on my thigh and started edging it upwards.

Ignoring the tingles that radiated from Foster's fingers and raced up my spine, I snatched his wrist and held it tightly.

“Foster,” I growled menacingly, “You’re drunk.”

“No m’not,” Foster muttered, leaning over to breathe the words against my neck. “Tipsy, maybe.” I squeezed until I could feel the bones in Foster's forearms protesting. So slender. Like a birds’ talons.

Foster whined softly in his throat. His hips twisted in the seat of their own accord.

“Drunk or not, you batted your big eyes at the stewardess, and she has brought you one too many glasses of champagne.”

Foster giggled.

“S’nice. Tastes good.” He leaned even closer to whisper in my ear. “But not as good as your cock.”

I clenched Foster's wrist with as much strength as I possessed, all the muscles in my body tensing as I fought not to make a sound. Foster, the whore, made no such effort, keening and tilting back his head. Me, unable to resist that pale, sweeping curve, pulled Foster closer with my other hand and bit down, feeling Foster's moan vibrate beneath my teeth.

When I released my mouthful of sweet, salt-tinged skin, Foster's eyes were darker than usual, wide and glassy with lust. My lower lip hung open as I panted, a little swollen from where Foster had bitten it. 

“Bathroom,” I hissed. “Now.”

No sooner had the door closed behind them then my eager hands slammed the lock to occupied. I slammed Foster's back against the thin plastic barrier, hoisting his legs around my waist while Foster's clumsy efforts undid my pants and left his own in a heap on what little space of the stall’s tiny floor was not taken up by my feet. 

Foster, of course, had foregone underwear. I jerked Foster's flushed erection roughly, demanding,

“What if you’d been strip-searched?”

“Don’t…treat…first class…less work…everyone…anyway,” Foster panted between brutal kisses, gasping and sucking at my tongue.

I tugged down my own underwear while Foster hit the soap dispenser. I eyed the oily pink goo dubiously.

“Do we really need –”

“Blood’s harder to clean,” Foster breathed, voice hitching. 

“Fine,” I rumbled, pulling Foster's ass open while his slim fingers slid the slick florescent mess over my now aching erection. My fingertips left small blue bruises across Foster's arms as the nurse stroked the soap up and down my cock. 

Foster's head banged against the door as his legs tightened around my hips, his pelvis bucking, cock painting sticky precum on my stomach.

“Oh fuck, fuck me please, oh fuck oh fuck –”

I snarled deep in my throat and positioned Foster's hole just at the tip of my cock, the faint, warning ache in my calves miniscule beside the overpowering need to plunge up into Foster's warm, wriggling body. Then I gripped Foster firmly and pulled him down.

I hissed and held Foster's mouth shut – oh, so grudgingly – and the heat of fuckfosterfleshbloodfoster gripped me. Foster managed something very close to a scream anyway, so I shifted the pressure to his vocal cords, viciously holding us still as I began to pump in and out of Foster as deeply as the position and the space would allow. Foster shuddered, his breathing fast and irregular, catching and heaving in substitute for his usual vocal reactions.

I kept pushing into Foster's body, the tight clench that no amount of fucking ever loosened smoothed by the cheap sliminess of the soap, making the motion slippery and as easy as it would ever be, and that in and of itself felt almost as wanton as pounding into Foster in a restroom at cruising altitude with that cute, curvy stewardess no doubt only feet away. 

I growled at the thought slammed into Foster harder than ever, using all my strength to grind us together as deeply as humanly possible. Foster's breath huffed against my ear, unable to voice his pleasure, but his hands scrabbling across my shirt, flicking open my buttons to clutch at my chest and rub his palms into my nipples beneath the fabric made the sentiment blessedly clear.

When Foster spasmed uncontrollably against me, limbs flailing, I grinned wolfishly and rammed into Foster at just that angle again. Foster shook and squeezed around me, heels kicking half-involuntarily at my backside. I found the spot I'd bitten before – now as flawless as ever – and renewed the dark ring of teeth marks, groaning as I fucked Foster faster, moaning at the feel of Foster's blood throbbing, racing, under my skin.

“Don’t come,” I whispered after my third try at speech, my hips still pistoning, oh god, faster, and Foster squirmed in protest, rubbing against me and around me and stimulating my now breakneck pace all the more.

“Don’t. Dare. Come!” Foster bit his lip bloody as I slammed into him, muffling my howls in the soft meat between Foster's neck and shoulder. 

I shuddered, my legs trembling as Foster gasped desperately, otherwise unable to complain. I pried Foster's legs apart while keeping him pinned to the door. I slid my hands under Foster's hamstrings as I awkwardly got to my knees, banging my legs twice in the cramped space. Finally, managed to shuffle into a kneeling position, and I kept Foster braced halfway up the door and settled Foster's thighs on my shoulders, swallowed the head of Foster's cock, and sucked. Foster convulsed, orgasm wracking though him as I kept his hips firmly back, swallowing hot, salty jets and mourning the lack of Foster's usual scream. 

Still, we were in sort-of public, and the courtesies had to be respected.

I sat back on my haunches and gave Foster a few more licks to ensure he was clean. I unhooked Foster's trembling legs from my shoulders, and set his feet on the floor. I snatched a wad of toilet paper from the roll and wiped as much of the soap from Foster's backside as I could get at and attempted to pull my boxers and pants back on. 

The first objective proved simple enough; the second, however, resulted in a banged elbow, seven muttered curses, a half-fall against the bathroom wall, and left me somewhat stymied. Foster moved into a corner, giving me enough room to repeat the maneuver more successfully. I handed him his now wrinkled pants, bit his thigh for good measure, and sauntered out of the stall with a wide, satisfied smirk.

After visiting with his family

Dexter stroked his fingers down Gabriel's back, tenderly, trying to comfort without the man noticing. If, years ago, you'd told Dexter that Gabriel would be the one who would feel the pain of separation the strongest, he'd have laughed. But now he'd grown accustomed to Gabriel's struggles with depression. And he knew how to deal with them, rolling the other man onto his back, he kissed him gently, refusing to take no for an answer.

 

"Hey you," Gabriel's voice was soft; his fingers slipped into Dexter's hair and held him still.

 

"Hey yourself," the man replied, nuzzling into Gabriel's neck. Gabriel relaxed a little, enjoying the contact, the touch. Dexter could only vaguely understand why Gabriel got this way, personally he was happier staying separate on a relatively permanent basis, he got to be his own person. The first few years had been hard, he could remember having near hysterics on several occasions when they'd been separated for too long, but now? Now he was whole again. It was Gabriel - the one who had striven so hard to increase their time apart - who'd discovered that once he had something, he didn't actually want it. He was too proud to admit it though. So every time they combined and separated again he moped for a few days, with Foster and Dexter walking on eggshells around him. The blues.

 

Dexter couldn't even remember when the tradition had started. The younger generation hadn't really grasped why Uncle Gabriel and Uncle Dexter were so unpopular with the majority of the other family - all except Uncle Foster and Grandma, who wholeheartedly approved of Gabriel. So it had started as a peace offering, years ago. If you can stay civil, I'll just be one person, so you only have to tolerate half as much of me at dinner, let's not upset Foster again. It worked. It was uncomfortable, Martha still looked daggers at them over the candied yams…but it worked. Every once in awhile he and Gabriel became one again, then split apart until next time. It just took a little while to recover from it. 

 

He stroked his fingers down Gabriel's cheek, gentling him. Gabriel crooned and kissed his hand, moving into the caress. It would be a few days before he was back to his usual aggressive self; Dexter knew it for a fact. In the meantime he was determined to enjoy the novelty. 

 

 ***

 

Gabriel stroked his fingers through Dexter's hair, fascinated by the texture of it against his skin. The other man wore his hair slightly different, and always carefully combed, it was deeply satisfying to rumple it up, leaving him looking sleep tousled and cute. The strands of silver that streaked it nowadays only served to heighten the look. For some reason Dexter's hair had started to grey. Gabriel wished he'd dye it, but Foster had said it looked distinguished, and Foster always won on such matters. Sighing, the man submitted to Dexter's ministrations, the other always got so clingy after dinners. Gabriel could only assume it had something to do with being apart again, so he bit down on his frustrations and played along for a few days. Anything to keep Dexter stable. 

 

Dexter nuzzled into his throat, making Gabriel relax happily. Even after all this time, he loved it when Dexter came to him for comfort, for touch. Deep down we were still one person, closer than twins could ever be. He kissed Dexter's fingers as they stroked down his cheek, enjoying the caress.

 

"Are you two hungry? Or should I give you some private time?" Foster asked from the doorway. Gabriel glanced up at him, felt Dexter do the same beside him. 

 

"Might want some private time for all three of us," Dexter replied mischievously, licking a damp trail up Gabriel's throat. Foster grinned and padded in, putting his tray on the nightstand and climbing into the bed with them. Gabriel growled at him and pulled his shirt off.

 

"And I'm hungry," Gabriel whispered, working a trail of kisses down Foster's belly. He writhed a little, making him all the more determined to attack.  It wasn't just food he was hungry for.

 

"Well it's a good thing I brought breakfast with me then," Foster murmured, kissing Dexter. "I don't want you biting me...again."

 

 ***

 

Foster watched from the doorway, knowing the pair hadn't noticed him. They always got this way after parting. Gabriel quiet and a little sad, Dexter clingy and attention seeking. Sometimes he wondered why they didn't combine again more often. He watched as they kissed, and stroked, gently touching each other for reassurance.

 

If he closed his eyes, he could remember how that felt, he knew every inch of both his lovers, inside and out. He knew every expanse of smooth skin, every scar, every imperfection. Had watched as the savage purple weal down the middle of their chest and back had slowly started to fade with time. Had mourned the passing of every little blemish, the appendectomy scar, the leftovers from Dexter's tussle with a car, the savage looking scar under his ankle both Gabriel and Dexter had found mystifyingly embarrassing, until Dexter admitted that it had been inflicted by a pet bird. 

He'd nursed them when they were sick, held them when they cried, or felt lonely and lost. They'd fought like demons, both side by side and against each other, and loved so hard it felt like war. He knew their limits, their strengths and weaknesses. He knew what it was like to give them the amount of hurt they craved. 

Opening his eyes again he watched the pair for another long moment, pushing away the memory of their fight, concentrating on the present.

 

"Are you two hungry? Or should I give you some private time?" he asked, not moving from the doorway. They both started like guilty schoolboys and gazed up at him.

 

"Might want some private time for all three of us," Dexter replied, squirming suggestively. Foster felt his cock stiffen just watching as the tall man licked (what must have been) Dexter's throat. Grinning, the nurse decided to join them, putting the plate of fruit and rolls down. Gabriel seemed eager too, trying to rip his shirt off.

 

"And I'm hungry," the man added, starting to explore. Foster felt goose-bumps rise in his wake, that soft mouth could do things.

 

"Well it's a good thing I brought breakfast with me then," Foster murmured, he claimed a kiss from Dexter, enjoying the sensation of two identical mouths. "I don't want you biting me. Again."

 

"Would I?" Gabriel growled mischievously. 

Foster growled, "Yeah, and I might seek vengeance, for once."

 

"You wouldn't…" Gabriel gazed up at him, unsure.

 

"Please," Dexter giggled, "if there's one thing I've learned from the past few months, it's that there is no limit to Foster's reckless streak."

 

Gabriel made a show of considering that, then pulled up and kissed Foster full on the mouth. "This much is true," he whispered. "I'm not going to risk it."

 

"Wuss," Foster teased.

 

"WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!"

Gabriel.