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The Man Who Saved Me (Updated 20 Jan - Chapters 1 to 23)

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This last chapter was so good. They have finally 'cemented' their love, if I may say. Thank you.

With regard to the direction of this story, I feel happy with any direction  you choose. You are the artist and we are your audience. 

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That was a fun chapter. Now to fuck EVERYTHING up.

Chapter 17

"You're good at this."

Dean lies beneath me as I straddle the thick plates of his abs. His fingers dig into my legs. I’m breathing heavily, but he looks completely at ease. And yet I’ve won three times and he’s won zero. Something is up here. “I’m starting to think you’re letting me win.”

He winks at me, that boyish grin on show. “Nah. You’re just a really good wrestler. None of those criminals knew what they were doing. It’s all in the technique.”

“I’m not sure how much good technique does when your opponent can bench-press an oil rig.” I run my hands through his silky hair. “This is only fun if we’re both trying. Show me what you got, big guy.”

Dean frowns. “No way. You would die. I could break your wrist or snap your neck without thinking. Even if I held back everything, you still wouldn’t be able to move me an inch. I have to actively let you push me around when we wrestle.”

“Maybe that’s what I want. Not the broken neck bit… but it would be nice to be dominated now and then.” I feel my cheeks going red.

He leans forward, kissing me. “Just because I can’t go all out, that doesn’t mean I can’t dominate. You want that?”

“You know I do.”

“Then say when.” His grin grows to reveal perfect teeth and light dances in his eyes.

I start counting down, preparing myself to counter whatever attack he goes for. “Three…. Two… one.”

I don’t even have time to blink before I’m on my back. In one giant, smooth hand, Dean holds both of my hands above my head. In the other, he holds my chin. His grip is gentle, but strong enough that I can’t move my head at all. His powerful legs pin me down, and I know it would be futile to push against him. I struggle, but it’s useless. He doesn’t budge even a millimetre. It’s like being held by an iron statue. I can’t even dent the thick, veiny muscles as I push with all my strength against them. Of course, I always knew how strong he was. But sometimes I become complacent. He’s such a gentle giant, it’s easy to forget that he could kill me with a flick of his wrist.

“Remember, Jake.” He leans down so that his face is just an inch from mine. “I might let you win now and then, but I’m always in control.” There’s nothing I can do to stop him kissing me. But I wouldn’t want to try.

I fall asleep in his arms just like every other night. The butterflies in my stomach reawaken every touch. And when he holds me tight against his chest, nudging the top of my ass with his dick, there’s a hell of a lot to touch.

The moment I open my eyes, I can tell I’ve come down with something. Just a little bug. I wouldn’t usually care, but Dean will freak if he finds out, and there’s no way I could successfully hide it from him. So I sneak out of bed before he has the chance to wake up, kiss him on the cheek, and make sure I’m out the door before he realises I’m gone. I leave a little note on the kitchen table ‘I’m at work, see you later x’.

12 o’clock rolls around and Jolene finds me slumped against the chrome kitchen table, my head in my hands, trying to block out the light. A half-finished ball of pastry dough sits beside me. Dimming the harsh lamps, she brings me a glass of water, ordering me to take slow sips. “You look like shit.”

“I’ll manage.” I say, though I know it isn’t true. Even if I can draw the willpower to finish my work, I’m a walking infection. It wouldn’t be fair to our customers for me to prepare food in this condition. “I guess… I could do with some sleep.”

“Jake, I’m sending you home.” She says in a tone which brooks no argument. “Do you want me to call your hunky boyfriend to pick you up?”

Where is Dean right now? Probably out in the world somewhere saving people, stopping crimes, the usual. I have no doubt that if he heard I was sick, he would put everything on hold to come and get me. But whoever he’s helping, they need it more than I do. “No, it’s okay. I don’t live far.”

Jolene purses her lips in uncertainty. “At least let me call you a taxi.”

I eventually cave to keep Jolene happy. But as soon as she’s out of the room, I call again and cancel. I’m sick, not dying. A walk would do me good and it’s a beautiful day. Vitamin D is rare enough in this town. I step outside and take a deep sigh. My head hurts.

When I round the corner onto my street, I’m confronted by white trucks, just like the ones I saw the other day. But not one. There must be six or more, lined up along the side of the road, all identical and empty. Something seems wrong about this. A man wearing all black is leaning against a railing and talking into a walkie-talkie. I could swear his eyes keep flickering over to me. I quickly scamper into the building, out of sight.

Closing the door behind me, I take a deep breath and start making my way up to our flat. The first sign that something is amiss is when I find the front door unlocked and ajar. In all the time I’ve lived here with Dean, neither of us has left it open. “Hello?” I call out as I enter, hoping to hear Dean’s reassuring voice echoing back to me. Instead, I am confronted with silence.

The whole place is a mess. Every drawer has been opened and its contents dispersed on the floor, every cupboard searched, there are knife marks in the pillows and the stuffing has been pulled out, a few of the kitchen tiles have been dislodged to allow someone to look underneath. “Oh shit.” I whisper, suddenly very aware of how oppressive the quiet is around me. Whoever broke in, they’re still here. They’re probably watching me right now.

As subtly as I can, I slip my phone from my pocket and dial Dean. It’s not on speaker, so I only faintly hear the tell-tale beep beep beep of the dial-tone. Please pick up. Please pick up. If he’s out on hero duty then he might not have his phone on him. God, please pick up. Your call cannot be connected at the moment, so please leave a message after the beep. I feel my heart sink in my chest. I take a deep breath and, as quickly as I can, raise the phone to my lips. “Dean, there’s someone h-

Before I can get the words out, a thick cloth is forced into my mouth and an arm circles my torso, locking me in place. I feel the cold pinch of metal on my neck as a needle pierces my skin. Something cold is pushed into my bloodstream. I try to scream but nothing comes out. “He called the giant.” One of them says. “Let’s get out of here.”

As black-dressed figures appear from their hiding spots around the flat, I feel my eyes droop. And then I’m falling.

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It the removal guys.

There is something up too, that Dean's super powers haven't detected anything wrong when you think back to the drunks at Jake's work. 

Excellent twist and can't stand this suspense.

Many thanks for cranking up that dial to 11, lol

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I just love this story.  The consummation in Chapter 16 was in the back of my mind all day while I was at work today.  It made for pleasant daydreams.  Jake is so stubbornly resistant to help from his friends, it makes me want to wring his neck and hug him at the same time.

This chapter has me wondering about one tiny detail: Can a man with invulnerable skin form calluses?  I suspect Dean's hands are as smooth as a baby's bottom.

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That’s... a very good question. I mainly included it becauses callouses are hot and manly, but you’re right it doesn’t really make sense.

 

Edit: It was grating on me so I removed the callouses.

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The people that took Jake i bet are the ones that created Dean so of curse they know who Jake Father is and their involvement. 

Many secrets are going to be revealed

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Chapter 18

DEAN

I bend the iron lamp post around his torso with ease, smiling as he winces from the pressure. Even if he gets away without punishment, extracting him from the tangle of metal will be long and unpleasant - he won’t try mugging anyone again while I’m around. Sure, Jake might not like me damaging public property, but I’ve found that when there’s enough evidence lying around, securing criminals and then allowing the victims to call the police often saves a lot of trouble. Ever since I found Jake asleep at the computer trying to process all of the videos of criminals I dealt with, I’ve been looking for ways to lessen the burden, and this is the easiest one.

I advise the victims as well as I can. They’re clearly scared of me, which isn’t surprising considering my size and power, so I squat in front of them, bringing us to eye level, and talk gently. Eventually they decide to trust me. When that’s done, I return to where I hid my phone, house keys, and change of clothes on the roof of a factory in Bromley. The journey takes me miles across London, but it passes in just a second. I’m sure it just looks like a blur when I carry Jake at this speed. To me, every detail and sound stands out with perfect clarity.

I have a voicemail from Jake. I play it, a smile creeping across my face as I think of the way he moans when I fuck him. God, I can't get it out of my head. I'm not sure I want to.

Dean, there’s someone h-“ as Jake’s voice cuts off, I hear the sound of scuffling, a pained grunt, then the line goes dead. He’s in danger. My heart starts racing in my chest as I blitz across the sky to land in front of the café where Jake works - ‘Last on the Left’. I almost forget to pull off my mask and arm bands before bursting inside, poised and ready for a fight. Every eye turns to look at me. At this point, I realise I’m only wearing shorts. They must be pretty shocked by the almost seven foot tall, shirtless bodybuilder who just appeared out of nowhere. Not that I care. My thick chest pumps up and down with every panicked breath.  I move to the kitchen faster than should be possible, but Jake isn’t in here, only Jolene. She stops rolling out pastry and turns to me, eyes wide.

“What happened? Where is he?” I growl, making her flinch.

“You mean Jake? He wasn't feeling well so I sent him home. Didn't he-“

I’m halfway across town before she finishes her sentence. I know I’m giving myself away right now, but it’s hard to think about anything other than Jake’s safety. I can worry about explanations later. I soon find myself in front of our flat and try to unlock the door. My hands are shaking. This never happens – my hands never shake. I’m Dean fucking Lawson. Yet I can’t stay still long enough to get a key in a hole. After a few seconds of trying, I grunt to myself and punch the door, causing it to blast off its hinges in a hail of shrapnel.

I race upstairs, barely touching the ground, stopping only when I’m standing in the hallway of our flat. My mouth falls open. No. Fuck no.

It looks like a hurricane has been through this place. Everything is a mess, and no effort has been made to clean up, as if the invaders left in a hurry. With a rising sense of dread, I realise that no one is here. The nearest heartbeat is Lucy – the tenant upstairs. Whoever did this, they’re long gone. And they took my Jake with them.

Suddenly I hear a quiet voice say “Afternoon.My head snaps around. It’s coming from the computer. In three long strides I’m stood in front of the monitor.

“Jake?” I whisper.

“Sorry mate.” Comes the reply. The screen flickers, and I realise I'm on a video call with someone. The camera turns to reveal a face I recognise. The guy I threatened at the café the other day – the teenager. He’s now dressed in all black, head to toe, now looking much older than I thought. “Christ, you really are a big fucker. Missing something, Deany boy?”

The camera turns to face the silhouette of a small man strapped into a chair. His hands and feet are bound and there’s a gag in his mouth. When the lighting shifts, I realise who I’m looking at. “Jake.”

“Yep.” Barks the man. “And if you want this pretty little lad to remain in one piece, you’ll do exactly what we say. Sound fair?”

Now I understand what’s going on. They've taken Jake to use against me. I can feel heat rising in my face, burning in my eyes, and I close them to avoid melting this entire street with heat vision. “You have no idea who you're fucking with.” I say through gritted teeth. I easily spot the hidden camera across the room and stare into the lens. The veins in my face glow a fiery red as they feed heat into my eyes. “When I find you, I’m going to tear your fragile little body apart.”

"Wrong answer!” The man grins, pulling out a pair of wire cutters. “Clearly we need to show we mean business, right boys?” A few deep voices jeer along in the background. The man steps up to Jake, who moans into his gag, scratching his nails into the wood of the chair in an effort to escape.

“No. No!” I roar as Jake’s left shoe is slipped off and the clippers are tightened around his little toe. “Don’t you fucking hurt him! He’s mine!

Crunch.

Jake screams. One of the men starts wiggling the toe in front of the camera, making it dance between his thumb and forefinger, and I feel my control slipping. My hands are clenched so tightly that they start to radiate energy in waves. Papers and pencils and dust motes rise from the floor and tremble around my body. My sheer power causes the air to ripple. Before I know it, a thick jet of light is shooting from my eyes, tearing through the windows and walls of our flat, causing part of the ceiling to cave in. “I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU.” I roar, so loud that the computer screen cracks and the half-empty glass of orange juice on the table explodes. 

“Temper, temper.” The man chides, wagging his finger like he’s scolding a child, and not the most dangerous person on earth. His face is split into several parts that glitch and distort around the breaks in the screen. “Or do I need to take another toe? He’s only got nine left, Dean, and then we’ll need to move onto more important parts.”

It takes me a solid minute, but I manage to contain my fury. Deep breaths. In and out. In and out. I imagine slowly squeezing his skull between my hands until it pops, watching him cry and scream for mercy. That helps. “Tell me what you want.”

“There’s a good boy.” The man grins, proud with himself. “Your first task is to kill this man.” He holds up a picture of an Arab in a white robe with a strange hoop resting on his head. “You will find him in a villa in Monaco. He must be killed with blunt force to the back of the head. No one can see you do it. You have three hours – I know you could have it done in thirty seconds, but I want you to wait until you have a good opportunity. Plus I need to go pick up my dry cleaning and that's gonna' take a while."

“I’m not going to be your hitman!” I say.

“If you refuse to comply, or fail to meet the specifications of the task, we will chop off one of little Jake’s body parts and mail it to you in the post.” He says with a grim smirk. "How about that?"

For the first time in my life, I feel powerless. I have no choice. This fucker has me entirely under his control. “Fine. I’ll do it. Anything else?”

“You’ll get your next task when the current one is complete.” I nod, slamming the laptop shut. If the life of some Saudi prince is the price I need to pay to get my Jake back, I'll do it. I spent so long trying to avoid this. I never wanted to become the kind of man who used his power for evil. To kill. But I have no choice. I won’t let them hurt Jake again.

I take off through the hole I created in the wall. But I’m not going to Monaco. Not yet. First I need to calm down, and there's only one place on this planet where I can do that. I’ve never felt such anger, such blind, overwhelming rage. If I don't vent it, I'll go crazy.

Less than a minute later, I’m hovering over the Transantarctic Mountains, which freeze away at the bottom of the world. The range stretches on for thousands of miles. With my indestructible fists held out in front of me, I slam into one of them. Several thousand feet of rock and soil explode around me on impact, loud enough to be heard around the world. The ground shakes. I fly out into open air, before demolishing another peak, then another, and another. I pick up mountains in my hands like toys and crush them, throw them into space, boil them with heat vision. I punch the ground hard enough to make craters, sending thousands of tons of ice into the sky. It’s not enough. It needs to hurt. To bring me to the point of exhaustion – but nothing can do that. I’m too powerful. So I keep pummelling, throwing, smashing until there's nothing left to break. I make sure to avoid any human research bases, but there is only a handful so that's not hard. But I leave the continent around them unrecognisable and I’m not even out of breath.

The anger is still there, seething in my gut. Now it's starting to turn to desperation. I need to get to Monaco. I don’t know how much time I have left - probably hours - but I don’t want to give the kidnappers any reason to hurt Jake. Once I arrive, it’s not hard to find the prince using my x-ray vision. Monaco is a small place, and there aren’t many villas. It’s a beautiful country – I might have brought Jake here if he was safe in my arms, where he’s meant to be. I wait until the Saudi Prince is alone in his bedroom, then fly in through his balcony, faster than the eye can see. With hands harder than stone, all it takes it a firm tap on the back of the head, and he topples forward, motionless. I can see the blood haemorrhaging in his skull. Just like that, he’s dead, and a piece of me dies with him.

With my task complete, I return home. The flat is a mess. I should really clean up. At the very least, I should shut the door. But all I can do is sit in one of the kitchen chairs with my head in my hands, and cry. This is not something I’ve done before. I’m not an assassin. I don’t take orders and I don't lose control. I was finally happy, finally building a real life for myself and the man I had always loved, but in just one day, everything has come crashing down around me. When will the kidnappers return Jake? I realise they probably never will. There will always uses for a guy like me. I'm a living WMD. And the moment they handed Jake over, they lose their leverage.

That means Jake is gone forever. I’m all on my own.

“Um… Mr Langley?” I raise my head, eyes puffy, to see a girl stood in the doorway. It's Lucy from upstairs. She’s nervous. As she shuffles from foot to foot, stretching out a piece of blue tack between sweaty fingers, she takes in the ruins of our flat. If she bites her lip any harder, it's going to bleed.

“I’m…” I sniff, clearing my throat. “I’m not Mr Langley. I’m Dean. Dean Lawson.”

“Oh.” She goes quiet for a moment. “I just thought… you’re here all the time, and I hear you two… well… I thought you were married or something.”

“No.” I try to force a smile. “We never got that far.”

She looks around the flat, nodding to herself. “They really took him? The men in black?”

I nod.

Lucy sighs. “I liked Jake. Even gave him a copy of my house key once, but he never took the hint. He didn’t look at me the way I looked at him, and I never figured out why… until he chose you.” I open my mouth to speak, but she raises a hand. “I’m not blaming him. Or you. I’d have made the same choice, I mean just look at you.” Lucy's cheeks go red as she realises she just admitted being attracted to me. Tentatively at first, then with more confidence, she steps inside and takes the chair opposite me. “Look, I wasn’t here when they took him, but I overheard… things.”

“What kind of things?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“Not much. Bits and pieces. But enough." A pause. "If you’re looking for Jake, I think I know where to start.”

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Im a sucker for hurt and im all im for bad guys showing Dean they are not fucking around.

They are agains a super so they know thay have to talk bussiness. Have them do something more gruesome next time that eventho Dean will take them out Dean and Jake never forget about it.

Now lets wait and read the consequences of what Dead did bring into the world. Im sure Jake wouldnt want  Dean killed someone for him when he knows it will never end.

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