CHAPTER 13: GUILT EDGED PLAYGROUND
Β© Josh & Sadie Rose 2006
"Okay guys and girls, this is the one you've all been waiting for. No... not the end! * tsk * you know very well what I mean! After the trials and tribulations of C. twelve I was amazed at how easy this chapter was to write. It was kind of like it was meant to be and I was with him for every inch of the ride. Anyway, I hope it's as much fun to read as it was to write! I'll shut up now..." * grin *
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IRISH CREAM:
He woke from a vivid dream, where everything was bathed in a lurid purple light and he was sprawled in a throne-like chair whilst asexual, naked creatures writhed and twisted around him, barely touching him or even looking at him. He could feel and taste their hunger though. It made his head ache and his nerves jangle irritably. For a little while he was lost in a place that looked like some dimly remembered fairground from a childhood holiday long ago.
When he and Skye were small, long before mum and dad separated, they had gone to visit his Gran and Grandad Wilde in Lancashire. His Gran was from Liverpool Irish stock, a large, loud, jovial woman with tight white curls. Dad's father was like an older version of him, his shock of white hair was a little thinner than dad's mad, salt and pepper barnet but he had the same narrow features and intense blue eyes. Grandad had moved down to the south looking for work when his sons were in their late teens but never settled there. Rayne's dad Jimmy and his brothers found work in Kent and Essex but Gran and Grandad moved back up to Wigan and had lived there ever since.
They took their grandchildren to Blackpool for the day and Rayne still had vivid memories of the noise and colour. Everything seemed too big and too loud after the sleepy seaside gentility of Dymchurch. He clutched at Mum's hand as they explored the Golden Mile and the Pleasure Beach, screaming along with her on the larger faster rides; rollercoasters that ripped out his stomach and stuffed it down his throat so that he could barely breathe, yet left him howling for more once they got off. They rode rockets that flew so high he could see the shimmering sea and the rooftops of the houses all around them. Mum had loved the River Caves, sliding almost silently through the darkness on a boat that carried them from one lurid vision to another. The water was a blue so vivid that he asked did it have toilet cleaner in it and made everyone laugh, but privately he found the illuminated scenes in each of the caves disturbing and inexplicable. Huge faces loomed out of the darkness and sounds boomed from hidden speakers, making him jump at every turn. He was petrified that that juddering boat would stick in one of the tunnels and they would have to get out and make their escape on foot wading through murky water that might have any kind of monster lurking in it.
In his dream he stumbled through Plexiglas caverns that dripped with glowing, turquoise wetness; hearing the loud, forced joviality of adult laughter as he was captured and hauled into one of the caverns. Mere feet from the gilded pleasure boats that glided silently through the empty caves of his nightmare, he was dragged struggling from the shadows and forced to his knees in the eerie light. The passengers ignored his screams as he was stripped and raped in plain sight before them. He could hear Uncle Brian's coarse laughter as he asked if anyone else wanted a turn.
The heat of another man's body was very real against his own. He felt powerful arms wrap themselves more tightly around him and lashed out violently with a little yelp of protest.
"No!" He screamed the word aloud and tried to twist himself into a knot to escape his captor. "Stop it! Please! No! NO!! I don't want to!!"
"It's all right," a warm, familiar voice breathed the words into his ear and the caverns melted away like spun sugar in the rain. "It's okay, Rayne. It's just a dream."
He could feel the tears in the back of his throat, hot and salty, as many tears as it took to fill a pint pot. The effort of swallowing them was just too much and he curled up miserably into the pillows, burying his face in the soft linen as they poured out of him; crying until it physically hurt to cry any more.
"It's okay," Paddy said, over and over, stroking his hair and his face with a gentle hand. "Sssshhhhhh.... It's okay. It's through now."
Rayne kept his eyes closed until he knew that he would not burst into tears again. He was conscious of the ache in his back and the stretched, gaping sensation between his legs that only reminded him of the wanton things he had done with Aldo and Barclay earlier. That in turn recalled Aldo's words to him before they made out.
'Let's get you stretched and ready for him.'
He kicked and pushed his way clear of Paddy's embrace now, huffing with shock as he reached the farthest corner of the mattress. Only then did he stop and face the Irishman, once he was sure that PJ Mc Namara was not going to pounce on him and pull him back down onto the bed. They were in yet another room, this one fitted with polished, dark wood and pale wall hangings. The bed was made with crisp, clean, cream-coloured linen. It smelled good and felt good under his hands and knees.
"Don't touch me," he warned tremulously.
"It's a bit late for that, don't you think?" Paddy was watching him with a slightly bemused expression on his handsome face. He was nude; only his lower legs covered by the rumpled sheet as he lay on his side, his face cupped in one hand, the other draped across his exposed hip. To Rayne's surprise he was not hard. His cock lay at ease against his lower thigh, smooth and dry; the skin as supple as folded silk. "Clay told me what you did this afternoon. Did you tell 'them' to stop? Did you beg them to stop fucking you, Rayne?"
He swallowed hard as some of the blood rushed back to his cheeks. As he dimly recalled he had begged for the exact opposite, as he was sure now that Clay and Aldo had already gleefully related to their boss. Rayne closed his eyes again, feeling like such a fool. Paddy probably thought he was a complete slut. And he would be right about that!
Weakly he shook his head.
To his surprise, Paddy did not jump on that right away. Instead he asked; "What were you dreaming about?"
Rayne swallowed and thought on his feet.
"I dunno, it was all mixed up. There was a fair and a water ride. I can't remember it now."
"You were freaking out. I thought you were trying to get away from me at first but then I realised that you were still asleep," the other man told him with a little smile. "That was some nightmare. I thought someone was trying to kill you."
"I can't... I dunno..." Rayne muttered, looking away before the fear showed up in his eyes again. He did not want to think of Brian; not here.
"I didn't think you were scared of me," Paddy said quietly. "I thought you were up for it. Was I wrong, Rayne? Did they hurt you this afternoon?"
He felt his heart quicken and for a moment it hurt to breathe. How could he even begin to tell this man what he felt? That he wasn't scared of the sex, just of the way that Paddy McNamara made him feel! It was too stupid for words. Paddy would laugh at him. Men like McNamara did not fall hopelessly in love with nobodies like him. He bit his lip and shook his head.
"I'm not scared. You just... I was dreaming, that's all. I thought you were someone else."
Paddy sat up then and leaned forward so that the covers fell away from his tanned, powerful body.
"Can I touch you now?" he asked and Rayne looked up at him in surprise.