Deliverance

"Here, take this too", Inspector Scott said and took off his shirt, revealing a strongly built body covered in wiry, dark hair. He spread the shirt onto Mike's clothes, and Mike lay down.

"You still okay, lad?"

Mike nodded silently, still feeling humiliated and increasingly desperate, but at least the Inspector was doing his best to hurt him as little as possible. He opened his legs and Scott knelt between them, applying more lube onto his still-hard erection.

Then Mike felt himself being lifted by secure, large hands under his bottom, and he pulled his legs further back, not entirely sure what to do with them. With a groan, Scott entered him deeply, leaning forward over Mike and draping the young man's legs over his shoulders.

Their faces were close to each other, and Mike couldn't bring himself to look away from Scott. The Inspector's face was flustered and shiny with sweat, black eyes gazing at him with previously unknown intensity. It was an expression Mike had never seen on this face before.

So that's what he looks like during sex. It was something Mike had not actually ever wanted to know, but now the fact was there, literally staring into his face.

"Mike, I can't..." He paused. "I can't any longer. Or I'll come."

"They'll be here soon", Mike whispered, heaving and panting. "We'll be saved soon. Keep going. Take it slow." He put his arms around Scott, feeling tense muscles under hot skin and marveling at how broad and strong those shoulders were. Maybe the Inspector needed some encouragement...!

"It doesn't hurt anymore", he said. A little white lie. "I can bear it just fine. Keep going." He actually preferred this position over the previous one. Here the Inspector was over him like a shield, as though to guard him from whatever evil was out there. It was strangely intimate.

There was a series of loud metallic clanking sounds as Gacy hit the iron rods with the gun barrel. "Hey there! What'cha waiting for? Fuck him harder! Can't you see he wants it? Make him scream!"

Mike brought his mouth so close to Scott's ear that he was sure Gacy could not see him speak, and whispered in French, "It's okay, Inspector... Do what he says. I'm gonna get a bit louder, but don't be afraid. I'm just faking it, all right?"

It seemed that Inspector Scott was hesitating at first, perhaps unsure if Mike could really handle him, then he moved faster.

Initially Mike was not sure how the insane pervert wanted him to react; how to make it look 'real'. The arousal was there, all right. No sense in suppressing it, was there? Maybe he should close his eyes... He let out a sigh.

Unable to fight the pleasant tingling sensation that was getting stronger - much stronger - with each of the Inspector's rough thrusts, Mike's reactions soon came of their own accord.

Writhing, moaning, arching his back towards Scott above him and clinging to him hungrily, gasping and crying out along with the Inspector's rhythm, Mike soon forgot the place around him.

There was a distant, "You... you all right, boy?", in Scott's voice, but even when Mike finally understood the words he found himself unable to respond. Mon Dieu, why was his face so tingly and tense? Eyes closed and mouth open, the only reply he managed was a low cry.

"You ain't faking that, are you?" the Inspector muttered in French, pausing.

"Wha...?" Mike half-opened his eyes, seeing the Inspector above him... why was he stopping? ... just when it had started to feel perfect...! "More", he mouthed, and not having heard his own voice, he tried again, louder. "More!"

Scott continued, taking him with a hard, rhythmic staccato. Mike moaned and shouted, dear God, he needed release, needed it badly-

"Mike..." The Inspector's voice was distant and low.

Then it was gone, everything was gone - he could not hold back anymore and surrendered to the climax, spilling his seed between their bodies.

What in hell... what...?

He lay there on the hard floor, heaving and his mind in a dizzy mess, but he already felt cold tiles touching his skin where the clothes had slipped away from under him. Suddenly the Inspector was gone. Mike felt a breeze of cool air on his body, and realized he was naked, totally naked, and there was -

ô mon Dieu! The insane, sick-minded serial murderer!

Still breathing heavily, he perceived how the hazy fog, that strange lust that had clouded his mind, faded away, allowing harsh reality to sink in.

Fuck! What had he done? He had let himself go, allowed to be overwhelmed with pleasure!

In this place, of all places!

And he had come. There was sticky stuff all over his stomach.

"Inspector?" he muttered . "Where...?" He tried to sit up, but winced when he felt the pain. Looking around he did not see the Inspector. Panic rose up inside him.

Then there was the other man, John Wayne Gacy, in front of him, and Mike felt his blood pressure drop as dizziness and dismay threatened to overtake him. This was the end! He was exhausted, naked, vulnerable, helpless.

He wanted to scream.

"... buttered bun", he heard John Wayne Gacy say. "Don't you know that expression?"

Mike stared at him, slowly shaking his head. "What-?"

"That's what you are, a buttered bun." Gacy was smirking. "It's what they call you when you're still all wet and slippery inside from having sex with a man." He approached Mike, kneeling before him, and reached for Mike's shoulder, trying to push him back down. "I've never had a buttered bun before. You'll be my first one."

The gun was apparently gone, but Mike was aghast to realize that Gacy now held something else in his other hand. What was that? A wire? Not just a wire, but a strong metal cord with wooden pieces on its ends– a garrote.

"No", Mike shouted, twisting under Gacy's grip, "no! Please, no!"

"Keep still!" Gacy's face contorted with anger as he positioned himself between Mike's open thighs while at the same time trying to keep Mike down and sling the garrote around his neck. He was stronger than he looked, and Mike had barely any energy left for a struggle.

"Keep still or you die!" The killer was panting heavily, grinding himself aggressively against Mike.

"Goddamn it! ...Don't touch him!", someone screamed. It was the Inspector who pulled at Gacy's shoulders trying to get him away from Mike, but then the garrote tightened around Mike's neck. Cold hard wire was biting into his skin. "Let go" Gacy barked, "or your boyfriend will die!"

This was the end...! Stifling a sob, Mike made a final desperate attempt to dig his fingers under the wire, trying in vain to loosen its hold around his neck.

In the same moment he heard the thundering footsteps. Running. Shouting. Doors crashing open.

Before Gacy even had a chance to realize what was happening, the heavily armed police squad in bulletproof vests was all over the room.

"FBI! FREEZE!"

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They sat in the head office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation's headquarter in Washington D.C. where the director of the FBI personally offered them apologies and a generous compensation in exchange for their discretion about what had gone wrong in the Gacy investigation. Though Mike liked the idea of writing a report exposing the FBI's grave mistakes in the hunt for a dangerous serial killer, right now he was more glad to have gotten out of this mess alive – and Inspector Scott, too.

He knew he wouldn't be able to forgive himself should anything have happened to the Inspector.

Time to go back home to Canada. As they waited in the hallway for the officers who would pick them up to drive them to Dulles Airport, Mike sipped a mug of hot cocoa. He sat on a designer chair, huddled in his trench coat, the Inspector next to him. There was an awkward silence, and Mike realized that things between them wouldn't be quite the same any more after what they had gone through.

"You know", the Inspector began, "I still can't believe what I did... I'm so sorry." He did not look at Mike.

Mike sighed. It was he who should be ashamed, not Scott! Never would he have guessed that he could actually enjoy sex with a man... even if that man was his longtime partner and best friend and he was totally comfortable around him. It was simply wrong! Seems like I'm more Catholic than I knew, he thought wryly.

"There's nothing to apologize for", Mike replied. "What we did probably saved our lives. We had no choice, you know that."

Looking at Scott, he saw the Inspector blushed. "Well... lad, I'm not sure if I got that right... but... say, did you like it?"

Now it was Mike's turn to blush all the way to his ears. He made an half-hearted attempt to hide some of the redness behind the cocoa mug and tried to think of an answer. Saying he liked it? Dear God, but it was wrong! Saying he did not like it? Then Scott would feel awful!

"Ah, forget about it, I'm sorry!" Scott waved his hand through the air. "It was a stupid, selfish question! I just..." His voice was lower. "If you actually liked it... I mean, I would feel less horrible about what I did, you know? But, nevermind."

Mike nodded, biting his lip, too embarassed to look at him. He drank another sip of cocoa.

There was something he just couldn't understand. If it had been wrong so why had it felt so good at the end?

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Finally they were at Dulles Airport, in an almost-empty gate from where their flight would depart in four hours. Inspector Scott had been strangely silent for most of the time, and Mike thought he must feel like the scum of the earth about what had happened, even though there was no reason to. Feelings weren't rational. Yet maybe it was worth reassuring him again.

"Inspector", he said shyly, "I'm quite all right, you know."

"You are, lad?" He didn't sound entirely convinced.

Time to get it out. Be brave, Mike! "If Gacy had forced me to have sex with any person of my own choice, any person on earth... I would have chosen you."

Scott stared at him, then his gaze wandered around the room for a few seconds before returning to Mike's. "I... um, well..."

Damn it, Inspector, say something! Mike felt shaky, and he knew he couldn't hold back the words any longer, the thoughts he'd been thinking almost every minute since they'd left Gacy's hiding place. "It was wrong", he blurted out loudly. "It was so wrong! But then why did it feel so good? Why?" He didn't understand himself any more. What was the matter with him?

Unable to contain himself he started to cry, and immediately felt comforting, strong arms embracing him. "Ssshh, there, my boy. It's all right. It's all right."

The Inspector felt warm and strong and solid, and Mike inhaled the familiar scent of tobacco. "I don't want to lose you, Inspector", he sobbed. "It wasn't so great at first, but then... I wanted it! I wanted you!... But why? Th- there must be something wrong with me!"

Now Scott gently put a hand under Mike's chin, forcing him to look at him. Their faces were so close Mike could feel the Inspector's breath.

"Michael" - it was a rare occasion, usually serious, when he used Mike's full name, "You know what I think? I guess maybe you wanted to enjoy it, with death looming near...! This first time of yours could have been your last! Consider that. Of course you reacted the way you did.

And, by the way, if there's something wrong with you – then there's also something wrong with me."

Mike hugged him more tightly, burying his face in Scott's blue sweater. He needed to sort out his thoughts before being able to form a coherent response.

"Don't worry, lad", Scott said, holding him firmly in his arms. "We'll be all right."

- the end