Between the Bars Pt. 07

"Huh? No, fine. Great. God your ass feels good."

"'Kay... but don't move... let me do it all, and stop me if you hurt..."

Slowly, carefully I moved for both of us, using my hand to take care of myself so that his one good hand was free to roam. His cock slid in me and stroked me just right until I was trembling and the pressure was building in a slow intense rhythm like waves breaking on the beach. Daniel lay back just watching me through heavy-lidded eyes, toying with my balls, trying not to thrust. His hand slid up and pressed against the base of my belly right above my cock and he grinned at my startled gasp from what was happening - pressure from the inside and pressure from the outside - rubbing against my prostate until I cried out from the intensity, and then he reached back and grabbed my ass, squeezing it roughly. I felt his fingers on my slippery hole, pulling it open for the invasion of his cock and the orgasm hit me without warning, like a punch in the gut. Just as I exploded, he drew his hand back and slapped my ass hard. Bright sparks shot through me and I came so hard, my cum splattered his chest and ran down my hand onto his belly. The intense, tight contractions made him shudder and he came, spurting into my aftershocks.

"Holy shit, Daniel..."

It wasn't very romantic but it was all I could think of to say. He laughed as I rolled off him onto my back next to him, wiping the sweat from my face. We lay there side by side for quite awhile, letting our breathing even out, getting slow and sleepy. Finally, I roused myself out of the post-orgasmic stupor.

"Come on. Gotta change your bandages and stuff."

"They're fine," he mumbled, eyes closed. He was drifting off to sleep without drugs, but I knew it wouldn't be long before he woke up in pain.

"Maybe so, but you need your pain medicine."

"Tired of pills."

"I know you are, but you're taking them because the doctor said so. After tomorrow, you can decide for yourself because I won't be there to make you. Now come on."

Reluctantly, Daniel heaved himself off the bed and we went into the bathroom, cleaned up all the cum and did the bandage thing. The shoulder wounds had finally stopped oozing over the past week, but there were spots of fresh blood on the gauze and I felt guiltier than ever. I shouldn't have fucked him. With a grin, he assured me it was worth it and he swallowed his industrial-strength Demerol without any more complaints, so I'd feel better. Back under the blankets, lights off, he tipped his head sideways against mine. He had to lie on his back, so our cuddling was limited to me curled against his left side, head on the pillow next to his, breathing against his neck. He still smelled faintly of mango.

"Gonna miss you."

"Me too. You don't have to go, you know. You could stay here a little while longer, till you're a little better... the department can survive without you another week."

"Maybe, but we've both got work to do... you haven't gotten much done with me here."

"It's okay," I answered softly. My editor was bitching about the deadline but I really didn't care.

"Anyway, the sooner I get everything taken care of, the sooner I can come back. You could come visit for a few days in between, you know."

"Yeah, I'll probably do that." Just hearing him say he wanted to get back to me flooded me with elation. I knew what he said in the hospital, that he needed me always, but he was so drugged then I wasn't sure he meant it . When he said it now, he said it with a clear head and I was still so amazed and thankful and filled with joy that, despite my silly doubts, he really did want to be with me.

"Hey," Daniel muttered thickly as he drifted off to sleep.

"Yeah?"

"Love you too."

I smiled in the dark. I'd written about this feeling in every single novel I'd ever penned and I believed it was real, but I never believed it could happen to me. I thought I was different somehow, damaged, that nobody could really know me and still love me the way I am. Daniel did and it still fucking amazed me at the same time it filled me with wonder. He didn't ask me to do anything or be anything other than myself. He really did love me. I didn't know why but he did.

"I know."

******

Chapter 35

"What will you have to do in court when you get to Chicago?"

I turn away from the front window, where I'm peering out for the tenth time in the past hour, waiting for the sight of Paul's truck coming up the drive. He's picking up Daniel at the airport. I was planning to go myself, but Paul just happened to be going to St. Louis today to pick up a backhoe part, and since it's an hour drive one way, it would've been silly to make another trip. The anticipation is killing me though.

My grandma and Charlotte are in the farmhouse kitchen, cooking a vast meal. I've been helping off and on but I can't really concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes so they finally told me to just let them do it. I have no problem with that.

I drop down at the kitchen table. "Federal grand jury's convening for Adkins's indictment. My testimony won't be huge, but Daniel is a key witness. Could take weeks."

Charlotte frowns while whisking gravy. "Why are they doing this in Chicago, and not in Florida where this is all started?"

Same question we've been asking. It would make things a lot easier for us; the IAD hearings about Olmos are still gasping away and Daniel's right in the middle of therapy for his shoulder, and now we have to uproot to Chicago. "Because it's the federal government. They have jurisdiction everywhere and they can do whatever the fuck they want."

"Rylan."

I grin sheepishly, sticking my tongue out at Charlotte who's giving me the you are so in trouble smirk from over at the stove. The fact that we're adults doesn't impress my grandma. "Sorry Gram. Forgot."

Too late though, she's already coming toward me with her fingers outstretched. I clap my hand to my ears too slowly. She grabs my left ear and pinches, making me howl.

"Son of a b..." She tweaks harder and it hurts like hell, but I manage to shut my mouth before bitch comes out and my grandma lets go and smiles.

"That's better."

I make a face and rub my ear and grumble under my breath, but I don't dare mutter out loud even when she's gone back over to the sink to drain the boiled potatoes. Grandma may look like a sweet little old lady, and the top of her head barely clears my collarbone, but she has some strong fingers and she absolutely hates swearing.

"So you have no idea how long this is going to take?" Charlotte resumes asking questions.

"My testimony should be done in a day. All I have to do is get on the stand and tell the grand jury what I saw; and I've told the story so many times I could tell it in my sleep." I shrug. "But Daniel might have to get on the stand numerous times, through different parts of the trial. There is no way to know when they'll need him, or for how long. That's why we're letting the federal government put us up in an extended stay hotel... we'll be able to come back here on weekends, or when the court goes into recess."

"And you'll have plenty of time to write," my grandma says, looking for a bright side.

"Um, yeah. Something like that. Kat wants to do a feature on us while we're up there." This story has been great for Kat's career, and even Alex, who tried to downplay his role in the events of that day, had a high-profile new job with MSNBC that he viewed with both excitement and distrust.

Four-wheeler engines roar up behind the barn and we watch out the window as Jeremy, Madison and my grandpa turn donuts in the patches of melting, slushy snow in the field, churning up mud and screaming with glee. My grandpa looks like he's having a blast and that makes me smile. My grandma shakes her head, pretending to disapprove, even though we can see the corners of her mouth tugging upward.

"Charlotte, go outside and tell those three kids to get in here and clean up before company comes."

"Too late." Charlotte nods her head toward the driveway leading to the barn, where finally, at last, Paul's red truck is pulling into the gravel. I didn't hear it over the noisy four-wheelers. I run outside, ignoring my grandma's voice calling after me to get a jacket.

It isn't cold enough that I'll freeze without one anyway. Not like the last time Daniel and I were here at the farm. The power and the gas are on for one thing, and we're having a rather pleasant February thaw, with temperatures in the upper forties, sunshine that melts the snow off the roads and yards, and a cool spring breeze. Wouldn't bother me a bit if it stayed like this. It makes leaving the sunny coast of Florida for snowy Illinois in the middle of winter a little less jarring.

The passenger door of the double-cab truck opens just as I reach it and Daniel slides out to his feet, smiling at me, eyes so blue like the thin cloudless spring sky and I wrap my arm around his neck, careful not to crush his arm in a sling beneath his smooth black leather jacket. Clearing his throat, Paul grins, grabs Daniel's bags out of the truck's back seat and trudges up the walk without a word to leave us to our reunion.

Our eyes devour each other for a moment, and then Daniel rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes briefly, as if in relief. "God, I missed you."

"Missed you too, so much."

I reach up and brush his stubbly jaw. His hair has grown out to something resembling a short, sexy cut and his face has finally lost the gaunt, exhausted look he's had since he was lying in that hospital bed. His cheeks are smooth and not hollow. He's put on a few pounds and he looks wonderful. I pull open the right side of his unzipped jacket so I can see his arm, gently touching him with my fingers, reassuring myself he's still all in one piece. Instead of the bulky sling that kept his arm bound tightly to his chest, he's wearing a different, smaller sling without a splint that just keeps his arm supported. He grins, lifts it slightly and wiggles his fingers, and I smile, nodding at his progress.

"You need a shave."

"You'll have to get on that in the morning."

Without even looking at the windows, I know my aunt and probably my grandma are watching us from the kitchen. There's nothing else to do for entertainment. And so, I grab Daniel's hand and lead him around to the other side of the truck so their view is obscured. Why should they get a free show? Daniel leans back against the driver's side door and wraps his left arm around my neck; I put my hands on either side of his head to keep from pressing against his right shoulder, letting him draw me in, keeping my weight off him while our lips meet softly. His mouth is sweet and addicting and I'm so hungry for the taste of him after being apart for almost two weeks that my lips are needy and demanding, descending on his mouth and engulfing him. I want to swallow him. He smiles at my urgency and teases my tongue with his, swirling it into my mouth. Lips so warm. My knees go weak and I have to breathe in sharply through my nose, inhaling his scent.

"Rylan, get in the house. Time to eat," my grandpa orders from the other side of the truck, another world. We're an island here in the driveway. I draw my lips away from Daniel's reluctantly. Our two-week separation turned into four weeks since he left Atlanta and a week and a half since I had to come home from Tallahassee for business. It's been hell, being away from him.

"Be right there."

Excited laughing voices chatter on the other side of the world, my niece and nephew going into the house with my grandpa, splattered with mud. The screen door slams and I smile at Daniel, whose eyes read a sudden flash of hesitation.

"Guess we have to do this sometime, huh?" He takes a breath, as if my family were a firing squad he must face.

"Don't worry. They'll love you, like I do." I kiss him one last time and then take his hand. We go up to the sidewalk hand-in-hand, but Daniel lets go and drops my hand when we reach the final few steps, his eyes going to the grinning faces in the window. I can't say I'm not a little dejected, but I can understand, it is his first time meeting my whole family and you never know how people are going to react. I hate adjusting my actions around other peoples' comfort zones, but it's not a new thing. It just comes with the territory and I tell myself I should be used to it by now. I open the screen door and lead him in.

The kitchen is all brightness and warmth and delicious smells of the traditional family Christmas feast we didn't get to have this year because I stayed in Atlanta to take care of Daniel. Christmas was only two weeks after the shooting and he was still in too much pain to go anywhere or be around a lot of people, even though my grandma desperately wanted us to come. Instead, I just invited Drew and Louis over and we had an elegant dinner and talked until Daniel got too tired, and then they left and we just cuddled on the couch and watched old movies, with Daniel drifting in and out of sleep, head in my lap. It was the best Christmas I'd ever had.

I love my family but they cook way too much food. Food is a production and it's also a token of love so you have to eat yourself sick or my grandma will feel slighted. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, rolls and enough desserts and side dishes to feed an army. The army will be here tomorrow for my grandma's birthday, in the form of aunts and uncles and cousins, but for right now, it's just immediate family. Paul's next to the stove quietly reading the St. Louis paper he picked up while he was in town. Daniel returns Charlotte's hug but I can see him quailing a little as my grandma steps up with her hand outstretched.

"Daniel, it's so nice to meet you."

Of course, she doesn't have a chance of resisting Daniel's slightly shy southern charm. He's adorably nervous and calls her "Miss Opal" because his upbringing just won't let him call her by her first name without the Miss, even after she asks him to. Even though I prepared him, I can tell he's a bit bewildered by the friendly welcome. I certainly didn't get the same from his family when he brought me to meet them. Sure, his sisters were nice, the new baby was sweet and his mom wasn't exactly rude; it was just obvious that she wasn't interested in welcoming her son's lover into the family, and that was fine. I would've liked it to be different for his sake, but not everyone has a family like mine. Watching my grandma reach up and pat Daniel's cheek, and the way he smiles down at her in return, looking truly pleased and grateful, I'm just glad I can share a little of their love with him.

I feel his tension, though, when my grandfather walks into the room, damp from washing off the mud. At six-feet-four, he towers over most people and he looks very imposing with his stern face, his thick hair going from red to gray, and his piercing blue eyes, squinted in the corners from decades looking across the fields in the blazing sun. I know Daniel is nervous but he has nothing to fear. Like me, my grandpa's reserved with new people, but like me, once he knows and accepts someone, he does it wholeheartedly.

"Daniel, this is my grandpa, Wilbur Kennedy, but everyone calls him Red. Grandpa, this is Daniel Braden."

"So you're the hero," my grandpa says as he shakes Daniel's hand.

"No sir. I'm not a hero, I was just doing my job."

I happen to be watching my grandpa when Daniel says this and I can see that skeptical look hovering in his eyes. But when he sees that Daniel is genuine, and not just trying to play off false modesty, he smiles, which is a good and rather surprising thing, because my grandpa doesn't smile that often, especially around strangers. They like him. I knew they would. I'm sent off to put Daniel's jacket in the bedroom, where I notice his bags on the floor. I'll have to take them upstairs later. Sleeping arrangements haven't been discussed. I hate the idea of separate rooms upstairs, but every time I've brought someone home, that's been the protocol. It's easy to sneak down the hall at night, but I wish I didn't have to. I should be used to it by now, and I am, but with Daniel, it's different. I thought I was over all that and now I resent it all afresh, like it's something completely new and we're the first ones to ever have to downplay things for family. It just feels wrong, like I'm seventeen again, hiding who I really am, and it's all so unfair, and feeling all those things again when I've always thought they're dead inside me, that I've finally accepted it, is strangely exhilarating.

When I return, Jeremy and Madison have been called in from the living room where they were playing with their new Xbox they got for Christmas. My whole family is gathering in the kitchen to serve themselves from the stove and the dishes and platters laid out on the counter and the kitchen table. When Daniel spots the pies lined up on the table, right where he bent me over, his eyes find mine over all the heads and he grins. A little tingle shoots down my spine and into my cock and I clear my throat and turn away, smirking to myself.

"What would you like on your plate, Daniel? Do you like turkey or ham?"

"Here, Ma, you can go ahead and sit down at the table. I'll fix Daniel's plate."

Daniel stands there between my grandma and Charlotte, looking uncomfortable while they fight over who gets to fix his plate. I laugh at his pleading look, but I shrug. There's nothing I can do to save him now. Apparently, they've decided to cooperate; my grandma arranges slices of turkey on a plate while Charlotte dishes up fluffy mashed potatoes and stuffing. My grandma explains that it's not cornbread stuffing like he's probably used to being from the south but she's sure he might like it, it's my favorite after all. Paul complains jokingly that nobody ever fixes his plate.

"You have two good arms," Charlotte tells her husband. Her whole demeanor changes, from brisk to adoring and solicitous, when she turns back to Daniel. Can't blame them a bit. Well I know how that wounded-war-hero thing of his gets to you. "Do you want gravy over everything, or just your mashed potatoes?"

Eventually, we all end up at the dining room table. My family isn't big on formality but the grown-ups always eat together while the kids take their plates to the coffee table. Usually, I end up hanging out with them instead of the so-called adults, but I sit beside Daniel and cut up his ham and turkey for him. My grandma is crushed that she didn't think to do it.

"I'm sorry, I should've given you smaller pieces."

"It's okay, I'm used to it," I grin at Daniel. It embarrasses him that he still can't do some simple tasks, but instead of grumbling about it like he usually does, he just lingers over me with his eyes.

"Yes, and you do a good job," he says softly.

Everyone's suddenly uncomfortable and we break out of our little moment. We do that sometimes, look at each other and just forget the rest of the world exists. It never fails to send flights of butterflies fluttering through me. I push him his plate, looking away from his face down at the table. I just want to touch him and be near him all the time. The rest of this - as much as I love my family - it's all just an annoyance, keeping me from being alone with him.

"So Daniel, how's your arm? What's the prognosis?" my grandpa asks after a bit, while we're all eating. The food is delicious as always. My grandma and Charlotte monitor Daniel's eating carefully, watching to see if he runs out of anything he likes, or doesn't care for something.

"It's doing pretty well, they took the splint off and I'm doing therapy three days a week. I got a referral for someone in Chicago, by the way, Rylan. I've gotten some motion back and the doctors are happy with the way it's healing. They say I'm actually ahead of schedule at this point."