Taking In Strays (5 page)

“Y-Your job…” Donny began, but it was a half hearted protest. Peter was handing him Heaven and he was finding it hard to reject it.

“I haven’t called in sick in two years,” Peter chuckled. “They can stand not having me for one night.”

“Peter, this is an incredibly bad idea,” Dan warned.

Peter reached out and clasped his brother on one shoulder. “I remember a brother who ditched a well paying career to try and save the underbelly of society, one delinquent at a time.”

Dan laughed, but it was short and sharp. “I’m trained to deal with the underbelly. You’re trained to put them in jail. That’s a big difference.” He frowned and his eyes looked Donny over critically. “Your partner told me that he’s the Mayor’s son. Do I have to spell out just how much trouble this could make for you? The press is going to be all over this. His arrest won’t stay buried. It’ll be front page news. They’ll be camped out on your doorstep in no time.”

Donny felt laughter bubbling up and realized that it was bitter and borderline hysteria. He choked it back with an effort and told them, “My Dad won’t let that h-happen.”

Peter and Dan exchanged looks that battled over Donny’s head and then Peter’s eyes flicked past his brother and narrowed. “The chief’s coming this way,” he warned. “Cover for me, all right? I’ve done it for you enough times, Dan.”

“That you have,” Dan replied, but his voice was still full of opposition. “I hope that you’re not making another big mistake, Peter.”

“Sometimes, a person has to take a chance on someone,” Peter said and Donny felt a lump in his throat at the compassion in Peter’s words, compassion for someone like him. He really didn’t deserve it. If there was such a thing as karmic justice, Donny suspected that he was getting payback in spades for the life that he had led up until then.

“Get out of here, before he sees you,” Dan growled, but he then he leaned close to Donny and gave him a hard look. “Don’t use my brother. You don’t need to. I can get you help, and anything else that you need, at a moment’s notice. Understand?”

Donny could only nod, and he felt the weight of an unspoken promise that he intended to keep.

It was a quiet ride in the car back to Peter’s apartment. The man’s big hands massaged the steering wheel as if echoing unquiet thoughts in his head, but his eyes remained on the road and he said nothing. For his part, Donny leaned against the passenger side door, fevered cheek pressed against the cold glass. His eyes stared outward, but they were unseeing. He wanted very much not to think, just then, about many things. It was better to let Peter take control, to go where he was led, and not wonder about what tomorrow might bring. He had been ready to lie down and die, he knew. Because of that, his choices were suspect. It was best to let someone else make them.

The doorman was frowning as they entered the building, and Donny could guess at his thoughts. Bringing a supposed prostitute to one’s apartment twice might get Peter more than speculation. Rumors were going to start and management would probably be informed that one of their tenants was bringing a criminal element into the building.

Peter’s hand was under Donny’s elbow as they entered the elevator. Donny couldn’t stop shivering. That hand slid around his waist and the man’s arm was a bulwark that Donny was certain that he couldn’t do without.
Ever
, a part of his mind whispered, but Donny wasn’t in any condition to pursue that thought any further.

Donny couldn’t believe that he had criticized, at least mentally, the man’s simple apartment. Once inside its warmth and comfort, and with the world shut out by a solid front door, Donny was ready to declare it Heaven. The simple décor was soothing to his frazzled nerves. Its plain furnishings were an unexpected comfort as he was seated on a tan couch and his shoes and socks were removed by Peter.

He felt like a child, but Donny didn’t care. He didn‘t want to think, didn’t want to remember his pride, didn’t want Peter to stop rubbing at his blue, cold feet and definitely didn’t want Peter to stop worrying about him. Those big, sure hands would make everything right again. Those big blue eyes, looking into his, promised to take care of everything. Trust; Peter was the definition of that word.

“Why…” Donny had to clear his throat as Peter helped him up and led him to the shower. He tried to speak again, unable to help how blunt and needy he sounded a he asked, “Why are you alone?”

Peter blinked as if broadsided. He hunched his shoulders in what Donny thought was a shrug as he sat Donny on the toilet seat and turned on the shower. Peter tested the water and then replied slowly, “People don’t stick around. I’m… boring.” He said that one word, boring, as if trying it out for the first time and finding it unpleasant. “My work hours suck.” That sounded like someone else, not Peter. He was repeating a criticism, but wasn’t convinced that it was valid. “I’m too into my job.”

Peter turned and began unbuttoning Donny’s shirt. His eyes were lost in thought, his hands warm, but impersonal. He wasn’t considering the fact that he was undressing a man. He was too busy hurting.

The sound of the shower, water hitting tile, the heat hitting colder air and making steam, and Peter’s closed off expression filled Donny’s senses for the space of several heartbeats before he said gently, “You’ve been with the wrong people.”

Peter focused on him suddenly. They stared at each other for a long moment and then Peter smiled softly and said, “You sound like Dan.”

“Then he made good sense,” Donny replied.

Peter looked unconvinced as he straightened. “Do you think that you can manage the shower on your own?”

Donny nodded and slowly stood up. “I’ll be okay.”

“All right, then. I’ll get you a robe and make some coffee,” Peter told him as he headed for the door. “Are you hungry?”

He was, but Donny wanted coffee and sleep more. “Maybe, later.”

Peter nodded and then the door was closing behind him.

Not having to keep up appearances any longer, Donny stripped off the rest of his tight wet clothes and stepped into the heat of the shower.  He sat on the tile floor, letting the water cover him and take off the bone numbing chill. It relieved pressure on his mucus filled sinuses and eased his sore throat. It took away the dirt and the touch of a man that he had almost let blow him for a few dollars and the desire to get off.

“All right in there?” Peter asked after awhile.

Donny couldn’t say how long he had been sitting there. The water was still hot and his body had decided that the side of the stall made a good back rest. He couldn’t stay in there, though. He had to get out, face Peter, and face the consequences of his short sighted and selfish acts.

“I’m fine!” Donny called back and coughed as he levered himself to his feet and turned off the water. After leaving the shower stall, he used toilet paper to blow his nose and then toweled off. Dry and naked, he stood blankly and couldn’t think what to do next.

“I have a robe,” Parker offered. The door opened a crack and the red robe pushed through it.

“Thanks,” Donny said and pulled it on. It was very large on him, but a cloth belt wrapped it tight to his quickly chilling frame. Thick and comfortable, it seemed out of character for Peter. Pulling at the label, Donny read the name of an expensive brand. Like the colorful painting, it was probably some ex lover’s attempt to change Peter, to make him less boring?

Donny felt a rush of annoyance as he leaned on the sink, wiped at the fogged mirror, and looked at the stubble on his chin critically. Why would anyone want to change Peter? He wondered. How stupid were these men that they couldn’t see that Peter was perfect just the way he was?

“Can I use your razor?” Donny wondered loudly.

There was a slight hesitation before Peter replied, “Okay, but you’re sick, not going to a night club. Don’t worry about how you look. You need to get into bed and get some rest.”

Donny was suffering from enough low self esteem when it came to Peter. If he could rectify even a small bit of the man’s opinion, by taking the time to shave, even with shaky hands, it was worth the trouble.

Donny was careful and managed not to cut himself. When he was done, he cleaned out the razor and the sink, and finally gave in to the need to crawl into a warm bed.

Opening the door let in a rush of air slightly less warm than the bathroom. Peter was standing outside. Holding a steaming mug of coffee in one hand, he put his other hand under Donny’s elbow and ushered him towards the bedroom. Donny like the feel of that steadying hand and Peter protectively making certain that he wasn’t going to fall.

Crawling under blankets, Donny couldn’t help a groan of relief. His entire body ached, his face felt full of mucus and painful, and he could sense a low grade fever heating his skin. Propping himself up on pillows, he was grateful to take the mug of coffee and sip at it while Peter leaned solicitously over him.

Belly and body warmed up, Donny finally met those blue eyes. “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t know what I would have done…”

Peter looked embarrassed as he decided to share something personal. “Something about you told me not to let you just walk away,” he said. “I couldn’t let you give up on yourself. I don’t know what happened between you and your father, but I can sympathize. My dad didn’t exactly greet my news, that I was gay, with enthusiasm and warm wishes. In fact, we didn’t even talk for several years afterward. He was-” Peter swallowed hard and his expression became sad. “He was on his deathbed when he decided that shutting me out of his life had been the worst decision that he had ever made.”

Donny felt emotions choke him and he wrapped hands around his coffee mug for warmth, even though hot coffee couldn’t warm a chilled soul. “My father isn’t likely to change his mind.”

Peter’s big hand reached out and touched Donny’s shoulder, offering comfort. “You don’t know that. He might calm down and change his mind. The shock of his finding out-“

Donny felt anger and bitterness well up along with an urge to sleep that made him put aside his mug on the side table and sink into the blankets. “He asked me how long I’ve known that I was gay. I replied that I’ve always known,” Donny told Peter. “He asked when I first had sex with another guy, I told him, fourteen. That’s when he called me a pedophile, a pervert, and a monster. You didn’t see his eyes, Peter. You didn’t hear how he said those things. He meant every word.”

Peter was quiet as his hand left Donny’s shoulder. That spot felt strangely cold and Donny felt as if his only support was leaving him. He couldn’t blame Peter, just as he couldn’t really blame his father.

“I’ve always been the life of the party,” Donny admitted as he closed his eyes and felt sleep dragging him under. “I was spoiled. I used people. They used me. I didn’t care about tomorrow, just the next fun time. I was the mayor’s son; his only son. Prince Donny. Everyone had to do as I said or they’d have my father to face. I fucked people and I fucked people over. That sums up my life until now. All this, Peter, is just karmic justice. I deserve it. I’m just what my father called me; a whore, a liar, and a user. I don’t deserve someone like you caring what happens to me.”

Calloused fingers made a gentle line along Donny’s jaw. “Maybe that’s what you’ve needed all along?”

It came too closely on the heels of his body finally giving in to the siren call of sleep. Donny tried to hold on, tried to decide whether Peter’s touch was real, or if it was the beginning of a dream, but his consciousness went down the drain into sleep and he couldn’t stop it.

Chapter Three

In the city, you didn’t hear the wind in the trees, or the gentle sound of birdsong. An open window invited car exhaust, street noises, and unsavory smells wafting up from concrete streets and sidewalks. Birds consisted of pigeons trying to roost on ledges and cooing inanely to each other. Hearing the sounds of a forest and a bubbling brook was enough to drag Donny back to the land of the living. It was a slow waking, lazy and without any remembered stress from the day before. The flu still had its teeth in him, but a soft bed and softer tissues on the night stand beside him, made that not such a terrible a thing.

The nature sounds stopped abruptly before Donny could find the source. He heard a muffled groan from another room and what sounded like someone waking up who didn’t really relish the idea. Footsteps went by his closed door and then the sounds of a coffee maker start up came a few minutes later. Footsteps passed Donny’s door again and then the sound of a shower came to Donny. The nature sounds must have been some sort of alarm clock, Donny decided, and found himself grinning at the thought of Peter’s odd choice.

Suddenly, Donny recalled his spilled confession about his father and about himself, and his grin dropped. He closed his eyes tightly and regretted waking up.

The shower stopped. Donny tried to imagine Peter standing at the sink, in the nude, perhaps brushing his teeth, shaving, or toweling that big body dry. Muscles would flex, biceps would bulge, ass cheeks would roll as he shifted in his task, and large legs would stand apart firmly. His sex would, maybe, sport a half hard on as thick as…Donny added several sizes just on principal until he had an image that he thought might be close to the truth.

Donny felt his own hard on and stroked it in a tight fist, wondering why misery and sickness couldn’t keep him from lusting after the man. Maybe he did need help? Wasn’t it wrong to want sex, while he was wallowing in the burned out remains of his life? Surely he was mental to fantasize about the one man that he had the least chance of hooking up with? About as mental as deciding to let an old man fuck him behind a bar after being disowned by his own father? As mental as wanting a man to suck him off for a few dollars and a sexual release after realizing that he was alone and without any help?

Donny’s hard on went limp, especially when he heard the bathroom door open and Peter walk back towards his room. The soft knock on the door was one that Donny wasn’t certain that he wanted to answer.

“Are you awake, Donny? You really should eat something.”