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The Man Who Saved Me (Updated 30 Jan - Chapters 1 to THE END)


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On ‎12‎/‎11‎/‎2018 at 10:44 AM, Speech500 said:

I’m glad you like it. This story is definitely going to have a lot of that. I wanted to make it different from the other superhero stories I’ve read, not just here but elsewhere. They’re usually simplistic fantasies with a clear good and evil, and a conflict which can always be defeated if you punch it hard enough. This isn’t going to be like that. It will still have all the muscles and sexual fantasies and feats of strength and protectiveness, but it’s going to be very realistic and sometimes grim. 

Oh I can' wait. I was going to head to the cinema this evening, but sod that. I'm here for the long haul. Superb work. Aquaman can piss off. I'm spending the evening with Dean Lawson ;-D

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@Speech500 this is a very amazing story! 

A very good style, good forms, and most of all, a perfect story. You compiled all my fantasies in just one story, thank you so much. I look forward to reading the next chapters!

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If you're just in this for the sexy stuff, you might not like this chapter. It's from Jake's point of view and doesn't include Dean, so there are no turn-ons. There will be plenty more of those later, but this chapter is important for the story so I couldn't skip it.

Chapter 22

JAKE

Dean is gone.

I stare at the hole in the ceiling in desperation, but desperate for what, I can’t say. I want Dean to come back for me, to take me far away from this place... But do I really? After what I just saw? Maybe what I want is to go back in time. For the blood-soaked monster to disappear never to have existed, and for my sweet goofball to come back, flashing that one-sided grin, like nothing had ever happened. Like this was all a nightmare.

It takes me a few tries to stand. First my knees collapse under me, and I fall to the cold floor. The weakness, fatigue, and hunger have all taken a toll. But soon I’m walking on shaky feet, wobbly legs.  All I want to do is leave. But I can’t. Not yet.

I search the factory floor, checking over the laptop for anything useful. No good – it’s a burner. I check the corpses, one by one, for anything important. I barely make it past two before hunching over and throwing up. Their bodies have been twisted and crushed and warped like fleshy rag dolls. It’s like I’m not looking at humans any more, just meat. Warm, soggy meat, already on the turn.

One of the men has a satchel wrapped around what used to be his shoulder. I try to shift him so that I can retrieve the bag, but his body just falls apart in my hands. I back away, gasping. The only reason I don’t vomit again is that there’s nothing left in my stomach to bring up. God, the smell is repulsive.

Even if I was coherent, it’s too dark for me to check the contents of the bag. I’ll just have to hope it contains something useful. There might be more here, but I can’t bring myself to stay a moment longer. These kidnappers clearly had no idea what they were up against, which tells me they were working for someone else, and that someone will soon come checking. I need to be long gone before they do. With the bag hoisted over my shoulder, I head for the fire exit and out into the twilight. It’s going to be a windy night.

I overheard my kidnappers mention we were heading for Bristol. I overheard a lot of things – that’s what told me I would never be released. I’ve never been to Bristol before, but an old friend from university settled down here. Once I get to a coffee shop, I ask to borrow someone’s phone and tell them it’s an emergency. The blood splatters on my arms and clothes are all I need to persuade them. My head hurts and it’s hard to remember her number. I get it wrong three times before she picks up.

“Hello?”

“Kat? It’s Jake.”

Her voice takes on a pleasant tone. “Hi Jake! It’s been so long! How are you doing? I heard about the Shard thing and recognised you on the news. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah, it’s been crazy.” I take a breath. “Look, Kat. I’m in Bristol with nowhere to stay and-“

“Forgot to book an AirBnB?” She laughs.

I can’t help sighing at that. If only that was the worst of my problems. “It’s a long story. A really long, really fucked up story. Right now, I don’t even have any money, or my credit card, or my car, or my phone. I’m in a Starbucks right now, borrowing someone else’s. Would it be possible to-“

“Stay at mine? Sure thing, Jake. Where are you?” Kat has always had good intuition, and she shows it by finishing my sentences before I can.

“I don’t actually know…” I turn to the man who lent me his phone and ask, then repeat the address to Kat.

“I know the place. That’s too far to walk; you’re right on the edge of town. Stay there, Jake. I’ll be there in ten, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, she hangs up.

I return the phone, expressing my thanks, before taking a trip to the men’s toilets. When I stare into the mirror, a stranger stares back. A twisted mockery of me. His hair is a mess. His baggy eyes are red at the edges, and flicker about like a wary animal. The skin of his face is clammy and pale. The clothes, splattered with red, hang loosely from his body. I turn on the tap, relaxing at the hiss of hot water pooling in the sink. I try to control my hair as well as I can, and manage to bring it into some semblance of order. I wash my face with soap, and scrub the blood from my arms with a little water and the palm of my hand. I have to jump to sit on the counter so that I can wash my shoe-less foot, taking care with the aching stump of my little toe. It isn’t bleeding any more, but the wound hasn’t sealed yet, and it got dirty on the walk over here. Once that’s done, I start feeling a little better.

I return to the shop to find Kat stood near the door, checking her phone. She looks older. More mature, but no less beautiful. Her smile drops when she sees me, replaced by shock. If she thinks this is bad, she should have seen me before. She guides me to the car with an arm around my shoulder so that I don’t need to touch the ground with my injured foot. All the while, I am bombarded with questions. What happened to me? How did I get here? Was I mugged? Robbed? Where did all of my stuff go? Am I homeless? I promise to tell her everything, and I mean it, but not now. I can’t even keep my eyes open right now. Lulled by the vibrations of the engine, the orange glow of street lights, and the heating, I’m asleep in moments. Once we arrive at Kat’s place, I allow myself to be pulled inside before collapsing on her sofa, the satchel still fixed around my neck.

-

"Sleeping beauty's awake." Kat smiles as she dusts mud from her knees. "You've been out a long time. But you look a lot better now. Still like you've been through hell... but better."

"Thanks" I say. My voice is hoarse and standing too long is making me feel dizzy. "I feel like shit."

"Your toe isn't infected, so you could be feeling a lot worse."

"I guess you're right." I rub the sleep from my eyes, peering around that the garden. The afternoon sun is harsh and makes my eyes hurt. Kat's garden is a piece of art. Hundreds of flowers in a thousand different colours, berries and fruits and root vegetables, little trees carefully carved by hand and meticulously groomed, cute cat figurines, a water fountain, a bench - everything you could possibly want in a botanical garden crammed into a space smaller than most bathrooms. Somehow it manages to be wild, elegant, and precise at the same time. Compact and yet spacious. It's incredible. “You did all this?”

She stands back with her hands on her hips to survey her work. “Yep. It’s kind of a passion project. I spend every moment of free time out here now.”

“Why would you put so much work into a garden? It’s just going to die next winter.”

Kat kneels down to check a tomato patch for weeds. “Just because something is temporary, that doesn’t make it any less beautiful. When it all dies, sure it’s sad, but it’s cathartic too. I don’t know quite how to explain it.” She bites her lip, deep in thought. “Winter is nature’s way of wiping the slate clean and giving you a chance to start again. You can try something different, or you can improve on what you did before, or you can call it quits. But no matter what you do, the garden will grow and change. You can never stop it, only steer it a certain way. It’s not like a painting you hang on the wall, occasionally dusting off the cobwebs. It’s alive.”

I nod along, pretending to understand what she means. Honestly, her description reminds me of someone I know. Beautiful, uncontrollable, and temporary. Well… maybe not beautiful. I suppose Dean would prefer I used the word handsome. But unlike Kat’s petunias, there’s no way to wipe this slate clean.

“What are you thinking?” Kat rests a hand on my shoulder before slipping a tulip through my hair.

At this point, what do I have to lose? Dean’s identity has already been discovered, and I doubt Kat is going to tell anyone else. And holding in all these secrets is starting to get to me.

So I perch on the edge of her compost bin and recount everything, from the experiments my dad performed on Dean as a child, to the day he rescued me at the Shard, to our project to clear up crime, to my kidnapping, and everything in between. Once I start talking, it’s impossible to stop. The words come tumbling out. Kat looks shocked at first, but nods along and doesn’t interrupt. As the story progresses and she starts to understand it a little better, she asks a few questions, or makes little comments.

By the time I’ve finished, the sun is starting to go down. “And that’s how I ended up here.” I say, finally falling silent. My mouth hurts from speaking, but it felt good to get all that out.

“I believe you.” She says. “What were they going to do? Just order him around forever?”

“No, they had a plan. I checked through the satchel. Most of the papers were reports on when Dean had been spotted, timetables for surveillance, speculation on his powers, that kind of thing. All the evidence confirms it was a government operation, signed off by the Minister of Defence himself. But the most interesting thing I found was this.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a small glass bottle, full to the brim with little red pills.

“What are they?” Kat asks, stepping closer to examine them.

“If the documents are telling the truth, they’re Dean’s weakness.” I feel myself shiver as I say those words. “One pill temporarily knocks out his powers. Two gets rid of them for good.”

“And three?” She runs a finger across her neck.

I nod, shaking the pills like a rattle. “Three have the power to kill a god.”

“What were they going to do? Force feed him? Based on what you’ve told me, I don’t think anyone could get him to do that.”

“You’re right. No one could make him. He would have to do it willingly. But they had the perfect tool to use against him – me.” As I talk, I gently massage my foot, careful to avoid applying pressure near the bandage. “Once Dean became more trouble than he was worth, they were going to leave a pill somewhere and blackmail him into taking it. Dean doesn’t believe anything can hurt him, so I doubt he would have needed much convincing. After that, they were going to flood the scene with agents and subdue him. He might still be a superhuman – less Superman and more Captain America - but with enough people, they could do it. These were all pretty big guys. They all knew how to fight. Dean doesn’t. He’s never needed techniques or training because he’s so powerful that he can shatter every window from here to Poland by snapping his fingers. One pill would be enough to let them penetrate his skin with a needle, but not enough to kill off the power in his blood. Once they had what they wanted, they’d force another pill down his throat to permanently nullify him, and after that… I don’t know what they planned to do. I probably don’t want to know.”

“Why did they want his blood?”

“The experiments that gave Dean his powers are lost, and so are the scientists. He tore the lab to pieces and destroyed any evidence. There’s no way to restore that research. Rebuilding the project from the ground up would be difficult, costly, and might not even work. And that’s if Dean didn’t catch wind of what they were up to. But with just a little bit of his blood, they could-“

“Isolate whatever gave him his power and reproduce it.” Kat finishes for me.

“Yeah.”

“You can do the same thing with plants.” She says, motioning to her garden. “Take a gene from one plant and transplant it into another – or thousands. All you need is a template plant. And I guess that’s what Dean was.”

“And what would the government do with thousands of infinitely powerful, unstoppable super soldiers?” When I say that, Kat doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to. The answer is clear. They could do anything they wanted. Take over the world? They’d get it done before dinner. Genocide a country of over a billion people who refused to follow? It would be a graveyard before any of them knew what was happening.

“Still… maybe it would be a good idea to keep those pills around. Dean would be a lot less dangerous without his powers. You might be able to live a normal relationship – or something approaching that. And if two pills is enough to purge his blood of power, it eliminates any chance of other supermen being made.”

It’s something I’ve considered, but I didn’t get far into the scenario before dismissing it. “We can’t. The cat’s out of the bag now. He’s on these peoples’ radar and I doubt this is the last time they’ll try to interfere. We don’t know for sure if his blood becomes totally useless after two pills. If they came for him or me again, and he was just a normal man, we’d be helpless.” I wiggle my toes without thinking, then wince as pain shoots up my foot.

Kat begrudgingly concedes that the idea would never work.

“You know,” I say, “I’m surprised you believed all of this so easily. It’s kind of a crazy story.”

Now her expression becomes nervous. “Yeah… About that…”

“What?”

“Well… Dean is…” She struggles for the words. “Let me show you.” After tapping on her phone for a few seconds with her brow furrowed in concentration, she passes it to me. And my heart freezes in my chest.

BBC News are reporting on a series of viral videos, captured by school children, of a large man with the physique of a pro bodybuilder stopping a speeding van with his body, and coming away completely unharmed. The anchor states that while it was originally presumed to be a hoax, the sheer number of videos of the event from different angles would have been difficult to produce.

“Earlier today, the Metropolian Police released a statement corroborating claims that the man, who has not been publicly identified, has been involved in a large number of crimes across Britain, but focused primarily in London, as part of a campaign of vigilante justice. While Scotland Yard has confirmed that the man in question consistently obeyed the law in these encounters, and would send footage to local law enforcement afterward, they have condemned his actions and insist that tackling crime be left to the police. However, speculation has been raised regarding the seemingly superhuman feats in both police evidence, and the viral videos. The BBC has spoken to a number of witnesses who claim to have seen these powers in action, and describe the man as benevolent and charming. Comparisons have been drawn to the fictional character ‘Superman’, due to his appearance, abilities, and passion for fighting crime. Despite overwhelmingly positive testimony, several opposition MPs have pointed to the man as a threat to national security, and insist that he be brought into police custody. The government has yet to respond.”

I don’t know what to say. This changes everything. Of course, the day I suggested Dean take up the role of a superhero, I knew he would become a public figure. We both did. Honestly, I expected it to happen sooner, but aside from what we sent to the police, there was never good evidence.

Now the whole world knows.

Things will become more complicated. For Dean. For me. Life will have to change. Hard decisions will have to be made. It’s all too much to take right now. I wonder if Dean knows. If he does, how is he handling it?

“Come on.” Kat says, stirring me from my thoughts. “It’s getting dark. Let’s go inside.”

-

Curled up in the bay window of Kat’s little home, I let the soft thrum of rain soothe my aching head. Cars rumble by, their headlights cutting through the gloom. I try to forget. Just for a moment, I try to put everything behind me and enjoy the calm, the smell of Kat’s lasagne, the warm glow of her fireplace. But I always find myself drawn back to the stump of my little toe. And from there, I think about the kidnappers and their plans. And then I think about Dean.

I think about Dean a lot. The more I do, the more certain I become that I will cave to desire despite knowing better. There’s no way our relationship can end with anything more than heartbreak. But when I’m with him, I’m happy. I miss the feeling of his rock-hard arms around me, his nose buried in my hair, it makes me feel safe. I miss the way he smiles, that goofy one-sided grin, the way he waits at the café for me to finish my shift so that he can walk me home, the way he holds onto my hips and lifts me a foot off the ground so that he doesn’t have to bend over to kiss me. I miss everything. I would trade a hundred years of solitude for another day with him, and I could have a whole lot more than one. All I need to do is call and I know he will come.

But I can’t forgive him for what he did.

It’s not as simple as forgiving. You forgive people for their mistakes, not their faults. The man who killed those kidnappers was just another side of Dean, as real and complicated as the side I came to love. He can’t apologise for who he is, just as I can’t forgive him for it. Perhaps pressuring him to lock part of himself away was what led it to overwhelm him with such brutality. Maybe I’ve been doing this all wrong, and I need to accept Dean; all of him, the good and the bad. Because I can’t contain him. No one can.

But even so, Dean needs me and I need him.

Dean is emotion. I am reason. The two cannot exist without each other. Emotion without reason is chaos. Reason without emotion is inhumanity. He is the blazing fire, the passion and heat that gives meaning to life and protection and love. I am the cool head, the thoughtful one, the ice, the staying hand that keeps his fire from burning out, or burning out of control.

No matter what obstacles we face together, they will never compare to the ones we face alone. That much is clear to me now.

So I pick up Kat’s phone and send a text.

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This was the perfect, haunting counterpoint to your Orphanage chapter.  Not disappointed in the missing sex at all, lol.  We started for the muscle show, we stayed for how well you play the heartstrings, Speech500.

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On ‎1‎/‎11‎/‎2019 at 4:37 AM, Vanished said:

I'm worried about this quote from Chapter 5:  “You’ll lose me the moment you kill another person in my name. That’s a promise, Dean. Never Again.”  Has Dean forgotten about this?  He didn't have to kill that guy. 

Though it was kind of hot.

Yeah but that was before Jake was kidnapped by sinister types who tortured and mutilated him. Jake had no idea these events would happen. Those bombers were terrorists cowards who are a stain on humanity. However, all things considered, Dean's power terrifies me. He's flattened most of the Antarctic mountains; so he's running out of things on which to vent his anger. Admittedly, flying a bloke thousands of feet into the air, then ripping off his hand and then arm, terrified me. Maybe I'm getting soft in my old age. I come here to read muscle-porn in order to 'come'. But on this rare occasion I read an incredibly well-written tale that stirs within me the entire spectrum of human emotions. Gods are terrifying, but can also be beautiful. But a man writing about a god -- and in doing so decides whether the god kills or spares a human life -- is somewhat god-like himself. And also god-like for writing such an amazing story that deserves far greater respect and recognition than having it posted here (not that I'm demeaning this site in any way, 'cos it's great, and all). 'The Man Who Saved Me' would make a brilliant movie, infinitely better than the shite Hollywood constantly dumps on us

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This one took me a little while to get through, but it's longer than average. 

Chapter 23

Three little words: ‘41 Haversham Road’.

I put down the phone, take a deep breath, and check myself over in the mirror. What I see is a marked improvement over the way I looked in that Starbucks bathroom, but that’s not saying much. The blood is gone, and my hair has been washed, my teeth brushed, my face rinsed. But there’s no hiding the pallid complexion or the bags beneath my eyes.

It seems like only moments have passed before I hear a knock on the door. Through the translucent glass, a large shadow is visible. I’m sure he’s watching me right now. Part of me wants to let him stew, maybe text him that I changed my mind. But I can’t do that. He’s here and if I know Dean Lawson, he’s not leaving without me.

I open the door and look up into that beautiful face. He really is flawless, so unlike me. I can tell he pushed a hasty comb through his soft hair, which is the most he ever needs to do. My stomach flutters at the sight of him. No matter what he does to upset me, I will never be able to look at him without awakening the butterflies in my belly.

Each breath pushes his slab-like pecs up against the fabric of his shirt, threatening to tear the seams. It's not even particularly tight, and yet I can trace the powerful mounds of muscle under the fabric. His neck, traps, delts, and triceps cause it to rise and sink as it struggles to wrap around shoulders broader than any human should be. And yet it falls loose around his core. 

His wandering eyes linger on my foot before returning to my face. Dean has never been a hard man to read and his thoughts are usually clear on his face. But for once, I’m stumped. He looks at me with an expression I don’t understand. A strange combination of anxiety, concern, despair, fear, desperation, anger, pride, hope, and joy – I never knew someone could appear to feel so many things at once.

“Hi.” I say, barely louder than a whisper. Without a word, Dean steps closer and wraps his arms around me, firm but gentle, plucking me from the ground so that my head rests in the crook of his neck and his nose is in my hair, where I can feel the warmth of his body seeping through me, hear his racing heart. Where I feel safe. I run my hands over his body, registering the raised veins that criss-cross every inch of him with the tips of my fingers. I feel the striations ripple under my touch.

“I’m sorry, Jake.” He mutters. “I never should have lost control, I never should have freaked out and flown away, I never should have left you to deal with the mess I made all by yourself in the middle of the night, while you were hurt, and I know you probably hate me and just want me to leave you alone, but…” He takes a breath. There’s a slight quaver to his voice. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“I don’t hate you, Dean.” I reply as a tear rolls down my cheek. His hold tightens in response.

He doesn’t say anything else. There will be plenty to talk about later, but right now, I just want my muscle-bound boyfriend to cradle me protectively against his chest. And that’s what he wants too. Dean stands in the hallway of Kat’s house, swaying lightly from foot to foot, his large fingers exploring my hair as I breathe in the scent of his skin. It might last five minutes or five hours, but it’s not long enough. For the first time since all this began, I feel warm. Really warm, right to my core. And when Dean eventually moves to put me down, it’s with a long, sad sigh. Afterward he seems determined to keep in physical contact, either by holding my hand, or touching my shoulder, kissing my neck – whenever he has a chance to touch me, he does. And I revel in every second of it.

“I understand why you lost control, and I know you were angry. So was I. And if our positions had been switched, I’d probably go berserk too. But what happened to those men… It can’t happen again.”

Dean’s eyes grow sad. He stares at his feet as he nods. “It won’t. I swear.”

“I’m sure you mean that. But do you really think you can make guarantees?” I think back to the man I saw tearing through my kidnappers like butter. “It was like you became someone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you, Dean. That wasn’t you. There’s something dark hidden in here.” I poke his granite pecs. “It comes out when you’re scared of losing me. I don’t know if it’s just a fight or flight thing, or if it’s a multiple personality disorder, or maybe we’re dealing with some real Jekyll and Hyde shit, but when you came back to yourself, I don’t think you had any idea what had happened.”

Dean remains silent for a long time, seemingly deep in thought. He opens his mouth to speak more than once, before shutting it again. Then finally, he whispers. “I’ll try to stop it. It’s not a guarantee, but I’ll try. I never want you to look at me the way you did in that factory. Never again.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way, okay? We’ll figure it out together.” And God help the world if we don’t. I lean forward, fully intending to meet Dean’s lips in a kiss that has my fingers curling and my stomach doing flips.

But as usual, Kat interrupts. “Is that him? Oh shit, he’s a big one.” As she speaks, my frown grows deeper, and Dean can’t help cracking up. I'd slap him if he wasn't so hard. “I mean, he looked big in the video, but… wow. Good taste, Jake! Very good taste.”

The laughter suddenly stops. Dean narrows his eyes at me. “Video?”

I try to hand-wave the subject away. “We can talk about it after lasagne. Don’t worry, it’s nothing big.”

“Jake, I know you’re lying. I can spot every micro-expression you make.” My chin is raised between his thumb and forefinger until I’m forced to meet his steely gaze. “So we can talk about it now.”

I try to back away, but find myself trapped by muscular arms. The pressure on my back is light but firm and totally unyielding. Dean wants to keep me here until I spill the beans, which means I’m not going anywhere. “You’re on the news.” I say with a grimace. “Some people saw a car crash into you and put the whole thing online. It spread all over, and then the police started talking.”

He smacks his forehead hard enough to shatter stone. “The school kids…”

“Look, it’s not that bad. Sure, a few politicians are calling for a manhunt to bring you in, but-“

“A manhunt?” He visibly pales at the word.

“We knew this would happen, Dean. We have options. You have options. I’ve already gone over the whole thing. But I don’t want to spend tonight thinking about the rest of the world. I just got you back.”

Dean eventually relents. “Fine. But we’re sorting this whole thing out first thing tomorrow.”

I open my mouth to speak, but am once again cut off by Kat. She sweeps into the hallway to tell us the lasagne is done, and we should eat it now while it’s hot. Yes, there is enough for everyone.

I start stuffing my face just to give myself a reason not to speak. Across the table, Dean eyes me with a curious smile pulling at his lips. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not the only one who can spot a liar, Lawson.” I accidentally spit out a piece of mince on the word ‘spot’, causing Kat to burst into laughter.

“There’s…” Dean shifts awkwardly, now nervous all of a sudden. “There’s something I need to get.”

“Right now?” What could be so important that he needs leave in the middle of dinner? Dean is usually so open with me, the fact that he left out what he’s getting is suspicious in itself.

“Yeah. Right now. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

There’s a blast of wind, and he’s gone.

“I thought it would be a blur, like on Smallville.” Kat says, shaking her head in astonishment. “But it’s not even that. It’s too fast to be a blur. He’s there, then he’s not.”

“I keep telling him it’s rude to spontaneously disappear in the middle of a conversation.”

“Do you ever get used to that?” Kat asks.

“No. It’s crazy, isn’t it? He’s shown me what he can do – or at least, a fraction of it. I don’t think I could really imagine the full extent of his power. But after what I saw, it boggles my mind that anyone would choose to mess with him. I guess they just didn’t know. His power is terrifying. The things he’s done with it, even more so. But at the same time, he’s so damn irresistible. I never thought it was possible to love someone in such a profound way. It sounds contradictory, I know. But it’s true.”

Kat nods along as if she’s heard it all before. “You know, the ancient Greeks had a word for something which is in equal parts terrifying and irresistible.”  They called it τέρας – or teras.”

“I wish we had a word like that.”

“We do. The English translation of teras…” She fixes me with a shrewd stare, “is ‘monster’.”

“Dean isn’t a-“

“There’s no shame in it, Jake. We all have monsters of one kind or another. It just so happens that your monster comes with abs. But Dean is a monster all the same.” She lowers her voice, as if that could stop Dean from overhearing her. Most likely, he isn’t listening, but if he was, he’d hear the blood pulsing in her capillaries, her breath, the slide of her eyes as they move inside their sockets. He hears everything he wants to hear.  “The question is how you deal with a monster. You can embrace it, the good and the bad, but monsters are uncontrollable. They’re volatile. That’s a dangerous choice. You can defeat it – not really an option in your case. Or you can control it.”

“I can’t control him. Only he can do that.”

“He can only do it when you make him. For whatever reason – maybe having you near is calming or something. But you told me that when he comes back from the brink, it’s never by his own volition. It’s by yours.”

“You’re giving me too much credit.”

“Or maybe I’m totally right.”

“Let’s say you were. What if it isn’t enough?”

We hear the front door open and close. At first I think it’s Dean, but then I hear a voice I don’t recognise. It’s deeper, rougher, harsher. “Baby, I’m back!”

Kat springs into action, racing through the house. “Brad!” She screams, leaping into his arms, kissing him so hard I’m surprised he doesn’t lose any teeth. “You said you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow!”

“Disappointed?”

“Of course not!” She leans in to whisper-shout in his ear. “Just means I don’t have time to clean out Ann Summers.” This makes him grin devilishly, squeezing her ass in his large hands.

“We’ll make time for that, don’t worry.”

I’d heard about Brad through friends of friends. At 6’6” and 250lbs, Bradley Hastings is an ex-Royal Marine, and a force to be reckoned with. I don’t know what he does now, but he clearly hasn’t let himself go. If anything, leaving the forces must have given him a chance to take up some serious steroids, which give him the veined, hulking look that I love so much about Dean. But Bradley has a very different face that speaks of a different life. Where Dean’s skin is smooth, Brad’s is weathered. Dean’s eyes shine with innocence and excitement and Brad’s are dark and analytical. Brad has scars, many scars, and a nose which has clearly been broken in a few places. Dean doesn’t have so much as a freckle.

So it’s with a certain shyness that I poke my head around the corner and wave hello. His eyes immediately flicker to me. “Who’s your little friend?”

“Oh, that’s Jake. Gay guy from uni. He’s been going through a rough patch, so I let him stay over until he gets sorted. Is that okay?” She sets to work on wooing Brad over while he effortlessly holds her weight cradled in his arms. “Come on, baby. He’ll probably be gone tomorrow.”

I stand awkwardly as Brad eyes me up and down. I feel like I’m being interrogated even though he hasn’t said a word to me. But I can guess what he’s thinking. These limp arms, the weak frame, plain face, short stature. I’m no threat. “And you’re sure he’s gay? One hundred percent?”

“Of course.”

“So he hasn’t tried to do anything with you?” I feel those dark eyes boring into me. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing.”

After a few tense seconds, Brad sighs and kisses Kat on the cheek. “Fine. Just tonight.”

Then his eyes seem to catch on the shoes by the door. A pair of knock off Jimmy Choos, my one remaining black work shoe, and two colossal brown boots, so big that all three of the others could fit inside them. The boots make Brad’s own shoes look childish by comparison. He glares at them, then me, then Kat. She tries to calm him, to explain that Dean isn’t some lover, but it’s too late. He’s already put her down, drawn the handgun tucked into his jeans, and has stormed halfway through the house before Kat has a chance to call after him.

“Where is the bastard? I’ll fucking kill him.” Brad roars.

“Baby, it’s not-“

“Be quiet, Kat. I’ll deal with you later.” He looks at her with heartbroken betrayal.

Against my better judgement, I speak up. “It’s not what you think.”

“If you don’t want me to blow your fucking head off, you’ll shut the fuck up.” Brad snarls at me.

Just then, Dean returns. “What’s going on? I heard shouting.” He steps into the kitchen to find the three of us stood silent, as Brad points his gun at my face. The moment Dean appears, the gun pivots to him. Judging by Brad’s expression, even he’s shocked at quite how imposing Dean’s sheer size can be. I doubt he’s used to feeling small.

Dean’s eyes begin to glow, his muscles flex, fists clench, jaw tight. I place a hand on his iron arm and shake my head. In response, he starts taking deep breaths in an attempt to settle down. Gradually, mercifully, the signs of fight-or-flight begin to fade. The beast is in his cage, for now. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to put that down.” Dean says, subtly stepping in front of me to act as a shield.

This only enrages Brad more. “You come into my fucking house, fuck my girl, and tell me to put down my motherfucking gun? Fuck you!” Now his voice is shaking with fury. I try to shift around Dean to get a look at the action, but a thick arm pushes me back into his shadow. The muscles of Dean's back push through his shirt.  

Bang. My breath freezes in my throat. I see the bullet land on the kitchen floor between Dean’s feet, crumped up like it had been squeezed in a hydraulic press. Bang, bang, bang, bang. Four more shots, four more bullets. Two of them fall the ground, but two ricochet off Dean’s impenetrable skin. One buries itself in the wall on my right, while the other smashes through a window.

“Baby, please!” Kat blubbers through her tears. This needs to stop now. Brad could seriously hurt someone.

I give Dean’s back a light push, whispering “Go.”

He takes the hint. In a flutter of motion, he’s no longer stood in front of me. He’s behind Brad. In one hand, he holds Brad’s gun, while the other arm is curled around his neck. Dean flexes his bicep, cutting off Brad’s air. Any attempts to shift the rock-hard muscles in his forearms are futile. Dean contains him easily. You’d think he was holding a 10 year old boy, not an ex-special forces bodybuilder. His forearms writhe and flex like columns of snakes.

“Listen closely little guy, because I’m only saying this once.” I can hear the growing anger underlying Dean’s voice, but he still keeps his cool. “I didn’t fuck your girl. I’m Jake’s boyfriend, and I came here to bring him home. Stop acting like such a bitch, and we’ll be fine. But if you do anything else to risk Jake’s safety, I will take you out. Got it?” When Brad refuses to answer, Dean flexes tighter. “Are we clear?”

“Clear.” Brad rasps.

Dean looks to me, and when I nod, he releases Brad. The man falls to the floor as he desperately tries to pull air into his lungs. As I watch him struggle, it occurs to me that even though Dean subdued him, it was at my direction. He calmed at my touch, grabbed Brad when I told him to act, and let go only when I let him know that he should. I might have been able to reach Dean during a moment of anger before, but I’ve never been in control.

Is this what he meant when he said he would try to change? We both know I’m the rational one, sure, and leaning on me to make decisions will prevent things from getting out of hand. But Dean never goes nuclear when I’m around. He goes nuclear when I’m taken out of the picture – either kidnapped, or hurt. That’s when he needs to be in control. When he won’t have anyone else to rely on but himself.

I suppose what matters is that he’s trying. We can work out the method later.

Without warning, Brad’s fist flies toward Dean’s face. Dean turns in a split second, gently catching the hand mid-air and pushing back, sending Brad sprawling on the floor. “I could’ve let you break your hand, you know. You’re welcome.”

Dean scoops me up in one arm, running the fingers of his free hand down my face. “You okay?”

“You handled that really well, Dean. I’m proud of you.” I pull him into a deep, slow kiss. Watching that encounter gave me hope. Just a little. Even though I could have been injured, Dean managed to hold back his wrath long enough to eliminate the danger without anyone getting hurt. There’s still a long way to go, but it’s a start.

“Ready to go home?” He says, securing his hold on me. Without thinking, I cuddle into his chest. “I kinda’ destroyed your flat, so we’ll have to make do with my place.”

“You what?” Oh god. I make a silent prayer that my cookbooks survived. “So we’re going to the crazy house in Canada?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Is… that the one with the double bed?” I smirk as we emerge into the dark, wet streets and rise through the sky.

“King sized, baby.” Now Dean is smiling too.

“Then I’m sure we’ll manage.”

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O M G. This story is truly a great work of an extremely talented artist and writer.

Having returned to work this past week I have not had the time to follow any developments. I have now caught up, - a much broader canvas which gives it far more depth. Its feeling as if I had originally been watching this story unfold on a my phone's screen only to realise in the last few chapters that I am in an Holodeck, so fully immersive is your narrative.

I am so pleased that Jake and Dean have support from characters in their past. Even though Brad mistook Dean for having sex with his Kat, when the dust has settled I suspect Brad and Dean may become allies, Brad able to teach combat skills and planning manoeuvers to them both. If the government is involved, I suspect, in time, international interests will show up next. 

I can't help but suspect the red pills will prove ineffective against Dean's powers. If the only way to obtain the formula is by taking a sample of Dean's blood and Dean totally destroyed all the previous evidence of the old lab, how did these pills survive? Dean is exponentially more powerful than when he escaped the experiments and possibly may gain vastly more power. 

This work is worthy of feature film status but I can't see Hollywood producing it. Apart from the glitz and glamour, Hollywood is known for its politics - oppressive towards LGBT rights.  There are other production studios and it could be shown at the Cannes Film Festival.

Many, many thanks to you, Speech500!

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Thank you for the lovely comment! I'm happy to hear that people find it immersive and feel invested in the characters.

By the way, all of your questions will be answered.

 

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