Chapter 20 #2
“Alright. We understand from your testimonies at the hospital that you killed those men, but it’s unclear if the one in the forest was shot by you or Mr Galloway. He wouldn’t talk without a lawyer, but I guess that’s why you have one now…”
“Our firm makes sure we’re covered but I acted in my line of duty. It was us or them.”
“So you shot that man too.”
Duncan never flinched. “I did, yes. I could still shoot him after he shot me.”
“We found some of Mr Galloway’s prints on that gun.”
“He had to take it out of my hand, I was losing consciousness.”
“This is great help as it saves us from starting a case against Mr Galloway. Self-defence, of course, but those are hassle, still. Now, we could link the man in the bunker room to a certain Olivia Blakely. Rings a bell?”
Duncan nodded. “She bought my client’s painting at an auction and we went to her house once, supposedly so that my client could have a look at the paintings placement.
” Fuck. “It didn’t end on a friendly note.
Mr Galloway was intoxicated from something she had put in his joint and I had to take him away. ”
“You’ve seen that man there? The one in the bunker room.”
“I recognized his eyes, yes. He was some sort of bodyguard, I guess.”
“Well, Mrs Blakely has her own versions on how that man went rogue, but we’re still looking. Let’s just run though the events again if you don’t mind. My colleague will lead this, she is new, if you don’t mind.”
Duncan laced his hands together, glancing at posh lawyer. “Fine.” Inwardly relieved that he had gotten Spencer off the hook. Trying to focus when just merely talking about him had messed him up.
How do months pass? Without noticing, maybe, busy with making sure his arm worked again, his hand, but even if he had spent a lot of time in PT, it was clear that he would not get back the full functionality of that right shoulder and arm, his hand neither, even if he could use it, the fingers were still very far from a firm grip.
One that could hold a gun, let alone raise it.
Training to switch to his left arm, it was excruciating, still, and he was clumsy as fuck.
Drowning himself in tasks because those lonely nights were agony, when his absence was worse than during the days.
No news on when he would be out. Martina had sent his heart in overdrive, telling him Spencer might have lost it and he would never be out.
Supervising a birthday party for kids that Spencer’s parents had thrown for their god kids and their rich friends’ kids, leaning against a pergola, he was wondering how the fuck he had ended up playing the babysitter.
Catching a kid who had tripped and stumbled towards him, the others chasing him swarming around his legs, pulling at his belt as they giggled and laughed.
Their hands were full of chocolate cake fudge, and it got smeared on his pants, his shirt.
Duncan laughed in that misery, because unexpectedly, he couldn’t even be mad at the kids, a warm feeling in him as he took those sticky hands and brought them to a tap to wash up.
Wincing at the pain in his right arm as they tugged on his hands.
Helping them, one of them started poking his muscles on his arm, fiddling with his watch. Unaware that he was being watched, the security cameras broadcasting to a phone in a running car. A finger grazing the screen, the nails sharp, poison green.
Later, fucking finally in his flat, Duncan could relax with a book in an armchair, but as soon as he had read a few lines, the world disappeared.
Waking with a jolt to a noise, but his gun was further, and his mind was still foggy to reach it. Blinking as he sat up and let the book fall to the floor. Eyes going wide as his guts clenched.
Spencer was leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed, a black silk shirt with rainbow dragonflies on it, his black leather pants, and knee high heeled boots, those green pointy nails, sharp. His small smile… His hair curling around his temples… What?
“I could have gutted you, Righteous. Tsk”
Walking to him, he slid in his lap, straddling him.
In shock, his hands still gripping the armrests. “Where’s your hair?”
“Missing. How is the arm?” Grazing his hand down it, feeling him shudder.
Duncan relaxed his hands, and slowly pushed them on Spencer’s hips.
Mute, trying to fathom he was under his palms, on him, their bodies finding each other…
but his eyes, those dark eyes void of that glazed over hate, clear of the haze, his breath, a hint of mint, lips shining like dark cherry candy.
Spencer pushed his hands in his hair, cupping his face then. “How is the arm?” Amused, feeling how Duncan’s pulse was beating like a drum.
“Could be better… it works… some… it might take time to work better though… I’m training to shoot with the left arm.” Losing his voice, overwhelmed, feeling his heat, his scent, that warm touch, his weight pinning him to the chair.
“You need it to work?”
“I’m still working, yes. Your parents said that you would decide what you want to do with me.” Swallowing at the light in his eyes.
That soft grin he knew. “I know what I want to do with you.”
Duncan waited, his heart hammering.
“Marry you.” Leaning down, he pushed his mouth on those puzzled lips, not leaving him time to say anything, closing his eyes to those wide grey eyes.
Wide, their tongues meeting and every wall that they had ever built to survive without the other crumbled under that warmth, their breaths, their moans as they ate each other up. Marry you… those words, pushed around in that kiss… in Duncan’s heart.
His hands found Spencer’s buttons, opening them as best as he could with those clumsy fingers, a small, frustrated moan, but Spencer helped him, helped him peel it off, tugging at his T-shirt when they were out of breath, watching him blanch when he lifted it off.
Silent, panting, Spencer’s eyes on that horrid, angry scar, a scream on that skin of him almost giving his life to save his life.
Stroking it with his fingers, meeting his eyes as he felt his hand glide up his arm.
Watching his eyes widen. Duncan turned Spencer’s arm a bit.
His right arm, a tattoo running down from the top in black letters. Righteous.
“What the fuck?” Angry, moved, meeting his amused eyes when Spencer had grabbed his jaw.
“That’s right. Shut the fuck up. You belong on my body…” Kissing him, wide. “In me…” Gliding his hands down his chest, to his ribs, slow caresses which made Duncan moan in his mouth. Down to that bulge on his boxers, and Spencer couldn’t wait, standing, legs spread.
He was such a vision, only in his pants and boots, his short hair with those lush curls, his eyes blown wide with lust that Duncan forgot to breathe.
He reached for his leg, taking it in his hands, he lifted it on his thigh, that heel like a dagger in his muscle, but he unzipped it, not leaving Spencer’s eyes.
Pulling it off, doing the same with the other boot, unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down, his boxers too.
Letting Spencer climb back in his lap, their cocks arching against each other, hard, warm.
A deep kiss, making out to maybe quench all those emotions which had burst to the surface.
“To bed…” Spencer’s whisper on those trembling lips.
Getting up, holding hands as their hearts raced.
Tumbling on the bed, Duncan under Spencer, kissing, missing his hair, that lush curtain of silk locks, but there were enough to clench his fingers in those strands.
Making Spencer hiss, part his lips, that grin as he ground against him.
Finding the lube, he squirted it out on his fingers, letting it splash on Duncan’s cock, rubbing some on his hole.
Sitting on that arching cock, trembling with want, with all that time missed, he let Duncan pull him down on his chest, grip his hip too, fuck him, hard.
Spencer whined in his neck, large licks to that salty skin to have his taste, his moans driving him crazy.
Slowing his hips down, pushing up as he rode him, watched that awe dilute in his eyes, darken those grey pools.
Riding him, lacing his fingers in Duncan’s as he pushed his hands in the mattress.
Careful with that stiff hand, his injury, waiting until Duncan sighed, relaxed under him in a comfortable pose.
The scar rippling with their dance, their breaths and moans, eyes wide, panting and moaning, knowing they would lose it as those deep, soft moves of their hips.
“Fuck, fuck…” Wanting to last longer, but Duncan was lost in his eyes, lost inside of him, in that hellish warmth.
Watching that familiar stranger dance on him, he clenched his fingers in that soft flesh on those slender hips.
Spencer’s eyes, wide as he came at that grip, at his cock buried deep where it belonged. Coming all over Duncan’s abs, up to his chest as he heaved on top of him, feeling him come too, deep moans as he filled him, wedged deep inside of him.
Tears rushing out as Duncan panted under him. Under that man who meant the whole world. Shaky breath words, tumbling out with that flaming breath. “I love you…”
Spencer’s eyes lit up and he kissed him, stealing those words out of that burning mouth. Leaning, close. “I love you too, Righteous…”
Collapsing on his chest, closing his eyes as Duncan’s hands and arms laced around his back, cradling him. Safe. Like two battered ships finding a port. Two battered hearts, a haven.
Duncan walked out of the house, stopping near Spencer, and handed him a juice. That stunning sunset transposed on a large canvas overlooking the landscape.
Spencer wiped at his forehead, his hair sticking to the top of his neck. “Thanks…” Sipping that cool juice, he leant against Duncan, facing the sunset with their drinks, that painting.
Duncan was floored. “A masterpiece.”
Spencer smirked. “That one on the sky is… This one goes to an auction…” Looking up at him. “That one on the sky is ours forever…” Knowing that he had him for life in their haven, it stole a bit his words.
Duncan took their drinks and put them down. He turned to lace his arms around him, stroking his locks back.
Spencer breathed. “I love you, Righteous…”
“Those are my words.” Teasing.
“Well, they are mine now…”
Opening wide to a deep kiss in that gold and blood light blazing on the sky, that fiery backdrop to their burning love.