Before You
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
57
Views:
20,058
Reviews:
556
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
57
Views:
20,058
Reviews:
556
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Thirty-three
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
With the lights on, they assessed damages. Nathan had sustained an impressive cut across his broad furred chest.
Glancing down at it, he growled. “Thought one of those pricks got in a lick.” Blood ran from it down over his flat belly.
Roth strode to the kitchen, grabbing a clean dish towel and returning to press it to the wound. “Keep pressure on it.” He jogged to his first aid stash in his closet, withdrew his suturing kit and hurried back. “Okay, sit down, Nathan.”
Joseph entered through the sliders wearing only boxers. “Oh God!”
Nathan sat on a bar stool and held out the arm on his wounded side. “It’s okay, baby boy. Nothing the doc can’t fix with a little needlepoint.”
Roth felt himself switch modes. Preparing his materials, he removed the compress and began. He used a vertical mattress suture to draw the edges of the skin back together and evert them. As needed, he gently wiped away blood. “Okay, Nathan?”
“I’ve stitched myself, Roth. Just plug the leak.”
Joseph stifled a sob. Looking at his adopted brother, Roth promised, “I will always tell you the truth. Your man will be just fine.”
“The blood scares me.”
Seeking to reassure him, Roth asked, “See how fast it clots and dries on his skin? That’s a sign of health and fast healing.”
Adam moved to drape one of his long arms over Joseph’s shoulders. “It’s a dermal wound. The blade didn’t even touch muscle.”
Sounding relieved, Joseph griped, “What a bunch of macho jerks.”
Two days later, Nathan called Roth home from the clinic. A letter had come with the mail sans a postmark. Nathan handled bringing in correspondences. He did so with latex gloves, as to preserve potentially advantageous fingerprints and DNA samples.
With them all mustered at the bar, Nathan carefully opened the envelope. Printed from a computer, it read, We have mutual interests. A meeting will benefit us both. Rothington Garrett, Adam Taggart, and Nathan Rigley. Savannah Mall. Food Court in front of China Max. Noon. This Monday.
“Succinct,” Adam commented. “Public venue and they have the option to wait and have a look at us first.”
Nathan nodded. “What they intend, exactly.”
Joseph hugged his narrow waist. “I don’t like it.”
The big man leaned down to kiss Joseph with touching tenderness. “Nothing will take me from you.”
Roth considered the situation. “It’s a good placement. Safe as circumstances allow. Is there a reply addy?”
Nathan hugged Joseph closer. “No. I’ll arrange for wing units and crowd walkers. I have this.”
The day of the meeting, Adam displayed his nervousness. Roth reached over to hold his hand in the car en route. “Baby, relax. This shit’s mundane.”
“Not to me. These people killed my family.”
“Point taken. But, keep quiet and let Nathan talk.”
Nathan chose the table and Roth followed his lead without reservation. “Got eyes all round here. Let the fuckers come.”
Following a delay, two men approached. One spoke. “Roth Garrett?”
“Yes.” He assessed the pair. One, a guy who likely rivaled Nathan in weight, accompanied the fellow who had spoken. That one had the sharp, slick sort of manner that made Roth label him a lawyer.
That one extended a hand. “Wainwright Carter, counsel for a party interested in negotiating.”
Roth ignored the offer of social nicety.
Nathan rumbled, “We did all the playing nice we intend to not sending your thugs back to you wearing toe tags.”
Unruffled, Slick Carter said, “The party I represent - ”
Adam spoke in a low, terrible tone of pure cold wrath. “The party that burned my family alive.”
Roth reached over to place a hand on his thigh. “Time for that will come.”
Nathan grunted. “Listen, you bottom-feeding little pricklet. We aren’t interested in anything other than resolution. No bartering or blackmail. Just an end.”
Roth added, “For now, we will proceed privately. Any further attempts of violent conclusion or threats will result in my taking this to a specialized FBI agent.”
Thug shrugged his meaty shoulders. Even as Roth thought he saw something contemptuous in it, Adam stood, restrained the man in an oddly subtle pose. The guy’s eyes began to bulge as Adam evidently applied covert pressure to some low-profile point. “You offend me. Your drawing breath offends me.”
Nathan stood. “Stand down, Adam.”
Roth observed the feral light in his fiancé’s violet eyes. Rising, he murmured, “Let him go. The time will come. Not today.”
Adam stepped clear, slid back into his seat before the other man recovered his respiration. “I don’t require a gun to kill,” he said to Roth.
“You’ve made that clear.”
Nathan assumed control of the conversation. “Face-to-face. No talk of ‘parties’ or ‘clients’.”
Carter hesitated. “We don’t care to conduct business -”
Roth took his turn. “You double-talk one fucking more time, I go Fed.”
“I’ll be in contact.”
As the three of them sat amid the mall traffic, aggression not easing as quickly as it might have with closure, Adam commented, “That went well.”
Roth and Nathan both laughed.
That night, in the privacy of their bedroom, Roth worshipped Adam’s body with his hands and mouth. Every breath or so, whispering against his lover’s warm smooth skin, “I love you. I love you.”
With the lights on, they assessed damages. Nathan had sustained an impressive cut across his broad furred chest.
Glancing down at it, he growled. “Thought one of those pricks got in a lick.” Blood ran from it down over his flat belly.
Roth strode to the kitchen, grabbing a clean dish towel and returning to press it to the wound. “Keep pressure on it.” He jogged to his first aid stash in his closet, withdrew his suturing kit and hurried back. “Okay, sit down, Nathan.”
Joseph entered through the sliders wearing only boxers. “Oh God!”
Nathan sat on a bar stool and held out the arm on his wounded side. “It’s okay, baby boy. Nothing the doc can’t fix with a little needlepoint.”
Roth felt himself switch modes. Preparing his materials, he removed the compress and began. He used a vertical mattress suture to draw the edges of the skin back together and evert them. As needed, he gently wiped away blood. “Okay, Nathan?”
“I’ve stitched myself, Roth. Just plug the leak.”
Joseph stifled a sob. Looking at his adopted brother, Roth promised, “I will always tell you the truth. Your man will be just fine.”
“The blood scares me.”
Seeking to reassure him, Roth asked, “See how fast it clots and dries on his skin? That’s a sign of health and fast healing.”
Adam moved to drape one of his long arms over Joseph’s shoulders. “It’s a dermal wound. The blade didn’t even touch muscle.”
Sounding relieved, Joseph griped, “What a bunch of macho jerks.”
Two days later, Nathan called Roth home from the clinic. A letter had come with the mail sans a postmark. Nathan handled bringing in correspondences. He did so with latex gloves, as to preserve potentially advantageous fingerprints and DNA samples.
With them all mustered at the bar, Nathan carefully opened the envelope. Printed from a computer, it read, We have mutual interests. A meeting will benefit us both. Rothington Garrett, Adam Taggart, and Nathan Rigley. Savannah Mall. Food Court in front of China Max. Noon. This Monday.
“Succinct,” Adam commented. “Public venue and they have the option to wait and have a look at us first.”
Nathan nodded. “What they intend, exactly.”
Joseph hugged his narrow waist. “I don’t like it.”
The big man leaned down to kiss Joseph with touching tenderness. “Nothing will take me from you.”
Roth considered the situation. “It’s a good placement. Safe as circumstances allow. Is there a reply addy?”
Nathan hugged Joseph closer. “No. I’ll arrange for wing units and crowd walkers. I have this.”
The day of the meeting, Adam displayed his nervousness. Roth reached over to hold his hand in the car en route. “Baby, relax. This shit’s mundane.”
“Not to me. These people killed my family.”
“Point taken. But, keep quiet and let Nathan talk.”
Nathan chose the table and Roth followed his lead without reservation. “Got eyes all round here. Let the fuckers come.”
Following a delay, two men approached. One spoke. “Roth Garrett?”
“Yes.” He assessed the pair. One, a guy who likely rivaled Nathan in weight, accompanied the fellow who had spoken. That one had the sharp, slick sort of manner that made Roth label him a lawyer.
That one extended a hand. “Wainwright Carter, counsel for a party interested in negotiating.”
Roth ignored the offer of social nicety.
Nathan rumbled, “We did all the playing nice we intend to not sending your thugs back to you wearing toe tags.”
Unruffled, Slick Carter said, “The party I represent - ”
Adam spoke in a low, terrible tone of pure cold wrath. “The party that burned my family alive.”
Roth reached over to place a hand on his thigh. “Time for that will come.”
Nathan grunted. “Listen, you bottom-feeding little pricklet. We aren’t interested in anything other than resolution. No bartering or blackmail. Just an end.”
Roth added, “For now, we will proceed privately. Any further attempts of violent conclusion or threats will result in my taking this to a specialized FBI agent.”
Thug shrugged his meaty shoulders. Even as Roth thought he saw something contemptuous in it, Adam stood, restrained the man in an oddly subtle pose. The guy’s eyes began to bulge as Adam evidently applied covert pressure to some low-profile point. “You offend me. Your drawing breath offends me.”
Nathan stood. “Stand down, Adam.”
Roth observed the feral light in his fiancé’s violet eyes. Rising, he murmured, “Let him go. The time will come. Not today.”
Adam stepped clear, slid back into his seat before the other man recovered his respiration. “I don’t require a gun to kill,” he said to Roth.
“You’ve made that clear.”
Nathan assumed control of the conversation. “Face-to-face. No talk of ‘parties’ or ‘clients’.”
Carter hesitated. “We don’t care to conduct business -”
Roth took his turn. “You double-talk one fucking more time, I go Fed.”
“I’ll be in contact.”
As the three of them sat amid the mall traffic, aggression not easing as quickly as it might have with closure, Adam commented, “That went well.”
Roth and Nathan both laughed.
That night, in the privacy of their bedroom, Roth worshipped Adam’s body with his hands and mouth. Every breath or so, whispering against his lover’s warm smooth skin, “I love you. I love you.”