unbroken_halo (unbroken_halo) wrote in stirs_of_echo, @ 2010-06-25 16:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | damon, damon/grant, fics, grant, john, john/marion, marion |
Fic: Paint It Black Part 2
Title: Paint It Black, Part 2
Authors: sevs_lil_secret and unbroken_halo
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Company belong to JK Rowling. No money was made writing this bit of fiction.
Pairing: Damon/Grant, Marion/John
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Set Spring of 1968, Damon is discharged from the Marine Corps with a second Purple Heart from injuries in the line of duty. Grant is still living as Gracie much of the time to fit into the societal norms of the day. As they try to settle into a normal life, things go from bad to worse.
Warnings: Spousal abuse, drug use and addiction, language, BDSM, bondage, violence, knifeplay
AN: This story deals with serious spousal abuse and drug addiction. If the reader is bothered by these subjects, then we advise them not to read this piece. Once again, we'd like to remind our readers of the time and era that this story takes place as well as the demographics. Home correction was not only tolerated, but it was expected.
Special thanks to accioslash for the read through and beta for this piece.
Damon started down the stairs after Grant, hands clenched into fists. “I’ve tried and tried to take care of you the best way I know how but you just have to keep on pushing don’t you, Injun.” He stopped and stood over Grant. “Get up now!” He roared at the smaller man. “You got the balls to back talk me then get up off your ass and do so.”
Marion ran into the living room and grabbed Damon’s arm. “Stop it! Stop it now!” she cried before she turned him loose and knelt down by Grant’s crumpled form. “John! Get in here, I think he’s killed Grant!”
John shoved the swinging door open and watched as his son reared back to hit his mother. He pulled his wand and stunned the younger Wolffe, shaking his head. “Marion…”
He walked over to her and knelt down beside Grant. “Why did you get in between them, woman?” He grabbed her and shook her slightly then held her to his chest.
He pulled back and looked at the carnage his home had once more become. It wasn’t the first time Damon had an episode after the war and he’d seen enough go the same route after the Great War and Depression. “Let’s see to Grant first and leave the boy to me.”
He picked up his son-in-law’s limp form carefully and took him back to their bedroom.
Marion looked back at their son and shuddered. “I thought he was going to kill him this time,” she said softly as she went for the first aid kit and left John to go deal with Damon. “Be careful with him.”
John walked back in to where Damon was lying on the floor, the urge to kick his son strong as he leveled his wand at him and uttered the countercurse.
“Get up Damon.”
Damon sat up and shook his head. He glared up at his father and pitched himself forward, wrapping his arms around his father’s waist. He growled as they went down to the floor.
Caught by surprise, John quickly got one hand under Damon’s throat and pushed his head back. “Knock it off, boy, don’t make me hurt you,” he growled as he took a punch and then delivered one of his own.
Damon’s head rocked from the blow and he saw red. Roaring, he reared back again and let loose with a knee to his father’s stomach and punched him in the jaw at the same time. Rolling away, he jumped to his feet, giving the older man time to get to his feet. “My husband…” He heaved out a breath. “you have no right…”
John got to his feet and slammed Damon into the wall, punching him in the gut repeatedly to slow him down. “You tried to kill him,” he grunted as he slugged his son one last time.
Damon howled and fought back, managing to land one or two blows to the older man’s chest and stomach. He slid down the wall and swept John’s leg out from under him, rolling out of the way as the other man came down nearly on top of him.
Landing hard, John lay there for a moment, trying to get his breath, aware at all times that Damon was looking for another angle of attack. “Damon, knock this shit off,” he barked as he rolled painfully to his side and glared up at his son.
Damon screamed incoherently and stretched his leg back, aiming a kick at the older man’s head.
Rolling quickly to the side, John kicked out and caught Damon in the side of his bad knee with his foot. “I said stop it,” he shouted as Damon went down.
Damon landed hard on his hands, barely stopping himself from going face first to the floor. Panting, he hung his head for a moment. He looked up and glared at his father. “This isn’t over.” He pulled up one leg and tried to stand, crying out when he crumpled again. Shaking his head, he tried again, balancing on one knee and his hands.
“It’s over,” John said as he got to his feet and looked down at his son. “Go back to your mother and see if she can do something with your knee.” He turned and went back to the dining room.
Damon growled and kicked out, catching John when he passed in the back of his knees as well. “You’re the one that taught me never to turn my back, old man.” He growled and crawled over to his father.
Grunting, John got back up and caught Damon by his collar, hauling the boy up to his knees. “I am sick and fucking tired of your pity party, Damon. Goddammit, you act like you are the only man ever left the Corp and ever been to war,” he snarled as he slapped his son across the face, keeping a tight hold of his collar.
“We’ve watched you self-destruct for months and now you’ve tried to kill the one person that has defended your sorry ass to everyone else,” John growled and shoved Damon back to sit in a pool of his little husband’s blood.
Damon coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood at his father. He glared at him, chest heaving then closed his eyes. “You only think you know what I’m going through. There ain’t a damned thing wrong with Grant that a swift kick in the ass won’t fix. You taught me that yourself.”
Marion appeared in the doorway, a worried look on her face. “John… can you come back here please?” she asked as she turned to go back into the bedroom.
John sighed and shook his head, leaving Damon where he sat. He turned back to look at his son, knowing the boy couldn’t get up and walk, he’d disabled him on that front. Changing his mind he went back and grabbed Damon by his hair, pulling him to his feet.
“You think so, huh? Come let’s see him then.”
He dragged Damon back to his and Marion’s bedroom by his hair, swallowing back the urge to throw his son down the hall.
Damon’s howled in pain as his leg bent and twisted under his father’s forceful motion. He scrambled to keep up with the older man, grabbing onto his father’s waist when they stopped. He looked up and into the bedroom where Grant was sprawled on his parent’s bed.
Marion didn’t even waste a glance on her son as she moved back to Grant, bathing his face with a wet wash cloth. “I can’t make him wake up John, you need to do something. I think he hit his head,” she said fretfully as she stroked the ashen hued cheek of her son-in-law.
John pulled Damon further into the room and threw him down at the foot of the bed. “Still think he needs an ass beating, Damon? Think you’re a big man now that you knocked him out and showed him the error of his ways?”
John stepped over his son and sat down on the other side of Grant. “Did you try the smelling salts?” He looked down at Grant and shook his head. His son had gone too far this time. “We may just have to wait unless you want to call the sheriff on Damon.” He told Marion softly.
Marion sighed and pulled a blanket up over Grant’s chest. There would be no calling anyone, she would protect her baby at all costs, surely Grant would understand. “The salts didn’t do anything. We’ll just check him later then,” she said as she stood up from the bed.
John stood and nodded. He took Marion’s arm and brought her over to Damon. “Fix him up and set him to watch over Grant. He needs to see that fighting isn’t the answer.”
He bent and pulled Damon’s head up by his hair once more. "I done told you we don’t treat women like that and you are going to make damn sure he comes out of this.” He met the boy’s blue eyes. “Cause if he don’t I’ll call the sheriff my own self and let him have your sorry ass. If he doesn’t come out of this then you really will be a murderer, Damon.”
He let go of his son’s hair and shook his head. “I’ve never been so disappointed in you in all of my life.”
He walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him before going to tend to his own injuries.
Marion smoothed bruise salve over Damon’s knee and bound it up as best as she could while she tended his other injuries, the whole time staying silent, not sure of what to say to her son. Before she left the room, she looked back at the two of them and shook her head.
Damon sighed. “Why didn’t you just call the police?” He asked softly as he looked over at Grant. “I’m not a doctor you know. I can’t do a damned thing for him.”
Marion took a deep breath and looked out the window. “I can lose a son-in-law; I can’t lose my son,” was all she said before she shut the door quietly and went after her husband.
Damon shook his head. “Stupid woman.” He crawled into the bed and wrapped himself around Grant, gently stroking the younger man’s face. “You’d better wake up, My Grant. I, for one, can’t lose you.” He lay down beside Grant pulling him closer and closed his eyes.
Some time later Grant began to stir slightly, groaning before he rolled to his side and vomited unknowingly on Damon.
Damon jerked awake and yelled for his mother as he stumbled out of the bed. He shed the soiled clothing and went into the bathroom, coming back with a washcloth and a anti-nausea potion. He looked down at Grant and offered him the potion. “Here Grant. Let me help you.”
The house remained quiet and Grant looked up at Damon with dark eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he tried to maneuver himself out of the mess. “I didn’t mean to be sick.”
Damon sighed. “Not a problem.” He said neutrally and looked up into Grant’s eyes and carefully picked him up, moving him to the dry side of the bed. He swallowed and wiped Grant’s mouth gently. “I’m glad you’re awake.”
Trying not to make any noise, Grant looked up at Damon, wincing only as the cloth was pressed against his mouth. “I’ll wash the bedding in a minute.” He looked around in confusion for a moment. “Am I in your parent's bed?”
Damon nodded and held out the potion to him. “Yes, take this. I hope it will help. I‘ll get mom new sheets so don’t worry about it.”
He looked around the darkened room and sat down on the floor in front of Grant. “I didn’t want to throw you down the stairs, Grant.”
Grant winced and then nodded, he remembered that he’d pushed Damon too far. “It was my fault, not yours,” he whispered hoarsely as he tried to get out of the bed. “I never should have said those mean things to you.”
Damon held up a hand and gently pushed Grant back on the bed. “No, it wasn’t your fault.” He murmured softly. He looked up at Grant again. “Da took it out of my hide how wrong I was. So just sit there and let me try to fix this.”
Grant looked at Damon incredulously, “I’m sorry,” he murmured as he reached out to pat Damon’s hand. “I’ll explain it to him.”
Grant lay back tiredly in the dim light of the bedroom, waiting for the world to stop spinning before he tried to get up once more. “Nothing was broken was it?”
Damon levered himself up from the floor. “Shut up, Grant.” He looked down at his husband. “I didn’t mean to hurt you and I understand if you want to leave. Just let me know and I’ll move out of the apartment.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “Just don’t quit school on account of me. You are almost done and I am proud of you.” He said softly.
Grant shook his head. “I don’t want you to move out. This is just… something that happened,” he said and stopped to swallow a moment. “I thought if I quit school then you wouldn’t be so angry with me anymore. Wouldn’t call me "Doc" like it left a bad taste in your mouth.”
Damon limped over to his mother’s vanity table and pulled out the stool. Carefully he sat down and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say, Grant. But I do know I don’t want you to quit.” He eyed his husband. “You’ve come so far now. I meant what I said about you not quitting. Despite what I’ve said, I think you are going to be a brilliant doctor. You don’t need me to tell you that, I think you know it.”
He ran a hand over his face. “I’m not saying that this will never happen again but …” He trailed off and looked up at Grant. “I’ll set you free, Grant. You don’t have to stay. I know I’m not right and I most likely won’t ever be again. You don’t need that just starting out.”
Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Grant leaned over to Damon. “No,” he said softly and butted his forehead against the other man’s. “Whatever there is, we’ll face together. That’s how it’s supposed to be. I should have been more understanding of what you are going through.”
Groaning softly, Grant managed to sit up on the side of the bed and wrap his arms around his husband. “I’m not quitting on you.”
Damon snorted and wrapped his arms around Grant, burying his face in all the dark hair. He swallowed and tightened his arms slightly pulling Grant into his lap, rocking him gently. “Once again I think you are making a mistake but I’m not saying no to you.” He murmured softly and sighed. “I never could.”
Grant laid his head on Damon’s shoulder, resting one hand on the broad chest of his husband. “I guess that makes me lucky, doesn’t it?” he asked softly as he sighed while Damon rocked him. “Do you know where your parents went? The house is quiet.”
“No and I’m not certain I want to know.” He leaned back and took a deep breath. “Da and I fought in the living room so he’s most likely replacing the furniture or the drywall and it’ll be coming out of my check next month.”
Grant nodded, sorry his husband had gotten into it with his father. “Did you hurt your knee and back again?” he asked as he shifted his weight and slipped down to the floor, his hands moving over the bandage Marion had applied. He had something he wanted to talk to Damon about but didn’t know if it would be a good idea or not.
Damon moved Grant’s fingers. “Leave it alone.” He lifted the small hand to his mouth and kissed the slender fingers. “You never did eat, Injun.” He said gently. “How you doing? Feel like letting me take care of you?”
“You didn’t eat either,” Grant said as he got to his knees. “My head hurts and I feel a little sick to my stomach, but it’ll pass. You can do as you like with me, you always could.”
Damon shook his head as he looked up at Grant. “We need to get you better first.” He ran his hands up and down Grant’s body. “Mom thinks I hit your head pretty hard.” He said softly, as he searched Grant’s face.
Gently, Grant ran his fingers over his scalp, wincing and drawing his hand away sticky with drying blood on the back of his head. “I’ve got a goose egg,” he mumbled as he wiped his fingers on his pants legs and shook his head slightly. Closing his eyes, he swallowed hard and blew his breath out, he wasn’t going to be a baby about this.
Damon looked at the floor and nodded. “What would you suggest for a patient, Doctor Wolffe?” He looked up and met Grant’s eyes.
“Don’t call me that, please,” Grant whispered as he got unsteadily to his feet. “I’ll wash up and be okay.” He made his way to the bathroom and turned on the cold water tap, cupping the freezing water and splashing it over his face to clear his head.
Damon got up and leaned against the doorframe watching his husband. “But you are, or you are going to be.” He ran a hand over his hair and sighed. “Don’t do this, Grant. I don’t know what else I can say.”
Grant looked up at him, water dripping down his shirtfront. “Whenever you’ve called me that since you’ve been home, you’ve made me feel like I’ve betrayed you. Like I think I’m better than you are. I don’t like it,” he said as he bent back over the sink and poured a cup of water over the back of his head to wash out the cut there.
Damon looked at his feet. “I know.” He stepped forward into the bathroom. “Is there something I can do to help you?” He grabbed a towel from the cabinet and held it out to Grant.
Grant gave Damon a sideways glance and didn’t budge an inch as the man moved toward him. “First, put that towel back. Your mother will have kittens if we get blood on it. Could you pour more water over it and just use your wand to seal it shut so it stops bleeding?” he asked as he hunched over the sink and waited.
Damon tossed the towel away and nodded. Cupping his hands under the faucet he gathered the cold water and gently let it flow from his fingers over the back of Grant’s hair. “I don’t have my wand. I put it away.” He told his husband softly.
“Mine’s in my back pocket, just be careful that you don’t burn it out,” Grant said as he quickly stepped to the toilet and vomited once more, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.
As he moved back over the sink, he turned his head a little and looked at Damon. “Why aren’t you carrying your wand?”
Damon cleared his throat and shook his head. “Can’t use your wand. I’ll hurt you again.” He looked at the floor, the wallpaper and the stupid little basket of shells his mother kept on the toilet. He looked anyplace except at his husband. “I don’t need the temptation.”
Grant stood up and wiped his face and hands with an old towel from the cabinet. He stepped up to his older husband and grasped the man’s chin in his hand, shaking his head gently. “Damon, either use my wand or go get your mom’s sewing kit. One way or another, this cut has to be shut and I’m not going to the hospital,” he said soft and firm as he looked his man in the eye.
Damon paled at the thought of having to sew his own husband shut. He’d done it out in the field. All the soldiers had learned basic field medicine but to actually do that to someone he cared about, he wasn’t certain he could. He took a deep breath. “The needle and thread is going to hurt but I can’t use the wand.”
Grant nodded. “Then so be it Damon. Where do you want to do this?” he asked as he stepped around the man to leave the bathroom. He didn’t really want to be stitched up, but he was determined Damon take care of what he’d done to him, and if the man wouldn’t use his wand, there was little other choice.
Damon stared after Grant then followed him out of the bathroom. “Ah… kitchen I guess.” He stopped in the hallway and went into his mother’s sewing room. Grabbing the tomato and a spool of thread he came out and walked into the kitchen.
He washed his hands and a needle, then took his lighter from his pocket, running the needle through the flame.
Grant took a seat at the kitchen table, crossing his arms on the top and lying his head down, bracing himself for what was going to come. “Damon, I wanted to ask you about something, but I don’t want to make you angry,” he said as he felt strong fingers parting his hair and wincing as the wound was exposed. “Damn that hurts.”
Damon looked down at the small cut and shook his head. “I can’t sew it up.” He ran a finger over it gently and stepped back. "It’s not even an inch long Grant and the skin is all swollen. There’s no sense in sewing it shut.”
He left the kitchen to go back to the bathroom, retrieving his father’s alum block from the medicine cabinet. Back in the kitchen he parted Grant’s hair once more and took a deep breath. “This will tingle some so don’t move. It’ll stop the bleeding because there’s no need to sew it up. It’s not long enough.”
As soon as the burn registered, Grant’s eyes flew open. “What the hell is that?” he gasped. “'Tingle,' my ass.” As soon as Damon had turned him loose, he sat up and glared at the thing in his husband’s hand. “Why didn’t you just use sugar?”
Damon shrugged. “Alum is what Da uses and what I was taught to use when I cut myself shaving.”
Still glaring Grant started to snap something out but thought differently. “I don’t like that thing, next time use sugar, okay?”
Damon looked down at the alum block and shrugged again. “It don’t sting that bad. Be glad I didn’t mangle you with the damned needle and thread. Now that would have hurt.” He returned Grant’s glare and stalked out of the room to return the block to the bathroom.
Grant sat at the table, rubbing his head with a pout on his face waiting for Damon to come back. “Do you want me to heat you up a plate?” he asked as he heard the man returning.
The kitchen door opened and the elder Wolffe couple entered the house in grim silence. Marion shrieked and flew at Grant. She grabbed his face and looked at him. “Thank Merlin, Damon isn’t going to jail.”
Startled, Grant shrieked and jumped back away from Damon’s mother. “Don’t do that, you’ll make me have a heart attack,” he gasped as he clutched at his chest.
Marion stared at Grant smiling. “Gracie… how are you?” She looked around the kitchen for more bloodshed and her son. “What have you done with Damon?”
“Don’t worry Mother Wolffe, I’ve not hexed him,” Grant teased as he took a plate from the cupboard. “He’s in the other room putting something away after he tended a cut. I’m just waiting to make him a plate.” He looked up and smiled as his husband limped back into the kitchen.
“Damon, here, I’m warming you up a plate,” Grant murmured as he took the man’s arm and led him to the small table. “Sit down and I’ll bring you your pills and a glass of tea.”
John watched his little dysfunctional family, grunted, and walked out of the kitchen to go back to his room to lie down.
Damon nodded and let Grant take his arm, watching as Grant finished pouring his tea. He waited until Grant had returned and set the glass down before reaching out and grabbing his husband, settling him on his lap.
He eyed Grant then picked up his fork, stabbing some of the noodles and sauce before holding it out to Grant. He arched an eyebrow waiting for the man to take the bit of food.
Dutifully, Grant took the bite and then leaned down next to Damon’s ear. “I can’t eat, please don’t make me,” he whispered as smiled at Marion.
Marion looked on happily, finally peace was back in her little home and Damon was happy again.
Damon searched Grant’s face. “Don’t make you because you don’t want to be here or because you are still ill?” He set the fork down and gingerly touched the back of Grant’s head. “Tell me how to fix it, Grant. I’m not the doctor.”
He dropped his hand and sighed. “I mean that, Grant. I need you to tell me how to fix it.”
“My head still hurts and I’m afraid if I eat, I’ll throw up again,” he said softly, keeping an eye on where Marion was so that she was not listening in on their conversation. “Only time will make it better Damon.” He reached down and took the man’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before he dug in his pocket for Damon’s pills. “Here.”
Damon shook his head. “Let me take you home then.” He stood and rearranged Grant in his arms. “Mother, I’m certain you understand.”
He walked out the door without a backward glance. Settling Grant in the front seat of the car, he turned back to go into the house to retrieve Grant’s casserole dish.
Marion closed the door behind her son and turned to face him. “Damon… you need to do right by Gracie. It isn’t right she’s driving around in that old rust bucket she has.”
Damon stared at his mother. He snorted. “I’ve always done my best for Grant, Mother. It’s not my fault it’s never good enough any longer.” He bent and kissed his mother’s cheek. “Tell Da to send me the bill for cleaning the carpets and replacing whatever was broken.”
Marion grabbed the front of Damon’s shirt and shook it gently. “She’s paying her dues being a Marine’s wife, Damon. She doesn’t wear diamonds, so you need to find something else.”
Damon shook his head and grabbed his mother’s hands. “Just this afternoon you were telling me you could lose a son-in-law, why should I find something else for him to take away once he decides to leave?” He murmured softly. “Da’s diamonds may have worked for you Mama, but Grant could care less about the material things.”
He removed her claws from his shirt and kissed her cheek once more. “I don’t think anything is going to fix this.”
Marion just shook her head as she watched her boy leave. She couldn’t imagine his little husband ever leaving him, but apparently Damon was convinced otherwise.
On the way home, Grant laid across the bench seat and let his head rest on Damon’s thigh. “Is it okay to talk to you now?” he asked as the passing headlights shone over Damon’s grim features.
Damon took a deep breath, knowing what was coming. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel then loosened. He nodded. “Tell me,” he whispered softly.
Grant shifted around until he was lying face up looking at Damon. “I know you were angry with me for taking the girls out to the farmhouse and I’m sorry. But baby, you are so damn talented. Wendy’s mom saw the pictures I took of all the woodwork you’ve restored and she wanted to know if you might be available to refurbish the house they just bought,” he said softly.
Damon sat there for a moment trying to digest what Grant had said. “You took pictures?”
He ventured a glance down at his husband then back at the road uncertain as what to say. He sighed and nodded. “What else did you want to tell me?”
“I took the pictures for my anthropology project about lost craftsmanship. I didn’t think you’d mind,” Grant said as he reached up and let his hand rest against Damon’s stubbled cheek. “That was it.”
Damon cleared his throat and nodded. “That’s all you have to say? Nothing else?”
Grant was quiet for a moment and sighed softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the paper or the Dean’s list. I should have. And really, Scott isn’t anyone to worry about. He has no interest in me.”
“You made the Dean’s list too?” Damon looked down at Grant. “Why do you want to quit then, Pet? I don’t understand it. You’ve worked so hard and put up with so much…” he stopped and shook his head. He sighed and focused on the road again. “Scott’s an idiot then.” He said softly and reached down to lay a hand on Grant’s chest, slowly running his fingers along Grant’s ribcage and side.
Grant closed his eyes remembering his decision about school. “I don’t want you to look at me like I’m doing something wrong anymore,” he said quietly. “Wouldn’t it just be better if I stayed home and took care of you?”
“Would that make you happy? Do you want to cater to my every whim? Be at my beck and call and leave behind all that you’ve worked so hard to accomplish?” Damon looked down at Grant for a moment. “Let Rachel win?” He said softly.
Grant turned his face and looked at the space above Damon’s knees. “My place is to be there for you. Like your mom is for your daddy. Wouldn’t you prefer that?” he said as he turned to his side and played with the knee of Damon’s jeans.
Damon snorted and shook his head. “Grant, if I had wanted to marry my mother then I would have never left home and picked one of the Farnsworth girls to play house with.” He stroked Grant’s face gently. “I’m proud of you baby and no one will ever take your place.”
“So it’s alright if I keep going?” Grant asked as he reached up and put his hand over Damon’s and held the man’s fingers. “You are alright with it? My schedule is going to get crazier once I start my residency.”
Damon looked down and nodded at Grant. “So long as you come home to me then it’s alright. I didn’t put you through school for fun, Grant and I didn’t do it just as my duty to your family either. You are smart and deserve everything I can offer and hand you on a plate.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry about today, Grant and the things I said.” He whispered quietly.
“I’m sorry too, I never ever should have called you that,” Grant said just as quietly. “But you can’t be thinking I’m out screwing everyone on campus because I’m not and I never would.”
Damon pursed his lips and nodded. He gently ran a hand over Grant’s head and patted his back. “I’m not an easy man and I never was to begin with Grant. That’s all I have to say about that matter.”
Grant nodded quietly and decided to revamp his wardrobe so Damon would have less to complain about and the men he attended class with would have no reason to look at him anymore. “Is it alright if I go to sleep now?” he asked softly, his eyelids getting heavy as the motion of the drive rocked him gently.
Damon shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t think you are supposed to go to sleep after a head injury.” He said softly and took a deep breath. “You are going to be the doctor, Grant. That’s your area of expertise. Physician heal thyself and all that.”
“Whatever,” Grant mumbled. “Wake me up when we get home. I’ll be alright.” He closed his eyes and drifted off.
@@@@@@
Spring 1969
Damon was waiting just outside the campus library for Grant’s last class to end. He shifted from foot to foot as he watched the co-eds streaming from the halls and loitering across the campus. He done his best to make up that day to Grant but it wasn’t until recently that he’d seen the right thing his mother had been talking about.
He looked up as the doors to the auditorium opened then stepped forward, eyes searching out Grant.
Talking and laughing with a group of friend’s, Gracie made her way out into the sunlight and started towards the parking lot where she’d catch a ride home since Damon had told her he wouldn’t be able to pick her up that afternoon.
As she made her way along the pavement, books held close to her chest, one of her friends nudged her arm and pointed at the handsome man leaning against the fence. Breaking into a smile, Gracie waved to everyone and hurried over to where Damon was standing.
“Hey,” she said with a smile. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”
Damon smiled and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her cheek and twirled her around then set her on her feet once more. He turned her to face the lot then covered her eyes with one hand. “I know but I have something for you.”
The last few months he’d put their house on hold and took to renovating the old Smith mansion in Wheeling for Wendy Smith’s mother. The time and experience had been well spent when he’d gone to the car lot last week to order Grant a car.
He walked Gracie over to a powder blue Mustang. He reached down for her other hand and placed the key in her palm and took his hand off her eyes. “What do you think?”
Gracie opened her eyes and just stared at the car in front of her. The convertible was brand new and gorgeous. “Damon… It’s beautiful… I can’t believe you bought a new car,” she stammered as she turned to grin at him. “Going to give me a ride home?”
Damon shook his head. “No, but I was hoping I could catch one with you.”
Gracie looked at him stupidly for a moment and then looked down at the key in her hand. Looking back to the car and then to Damon, the understanding slowly dawned on her. “For me?” she whispered, unable to breathe.
“Lock, stock and barrel, Pet.” Damon smiled at her. “She’s even in your name, Pet.” He turned her around and opened the driver’s door for her. “Want to see how fast she’ll go?”
Gracie began to dance around and laugh. “Oh my God Damon!” she shrieked causing her friends to come over and investigate. “Thank you!” Gracie jumped into Damon’s arms, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him ferociously.
“What’s going on?” one of her friends asked, the young man looking at the car curiously and then at Damon. His girlfriend smacked his chest and sighed about how romantic it all was.
Damon held Gracie tightly to him and smiled up at her. He slowly slid her down to the ground and took her hand. “Now, I’ve one more thing for you. Do you think you can manage to get us to Echo before dark?” He smirked. “Without getting a ticket?”
Gracie just smirked and slid behind the wheel. “Get in and hold on,” she laughed as she turned the key and revved the big engine, shivering at the sound it made.
Damon shook his head and shut the door, sliding his hand along the lines of the muscle car before sitting down in the passenger seat. “What have I done now?” He chuckled and leaned back, watching Gracie for a moment. “Drive on baby.”
Gracie peeled out of the parking lot and hit the highway at about ninety, giggling as she turned the radio up and sang along to Mustang Sally as they settled in for the drive to their soon-to-be hometown.
Damon just shook his head as Gracie sang. He leaned back in the seat and watched the miles pass and only sitting up when the small green sign announcing the exit for Echo came into view. He turned and smiled at Grant then nodded for his husband to drive on up to the house.
Carefully, Grant drove the muscle car up the long driveway and parked it under a dogwood tree. “We’re here,” he said as he reached down and pulled the amulet off, hanging it over the rear view mirror.
Damon nodded and got out of the car, jogging around to hold the other door for Grant. He held out a hand to the other man and pulled him from the car. “Remember when I told you I had quit working on the house for a while. Well, I met this old boy that helped me out a lot with the Smith Mansion.”
He stopped on the front porch and turned to Grant, scooping him up and into his arms then reached out to open the large door with a glass panel in it. He pushed open the door and stepped over the threshold with Grant in his arms. “House is all done now, baby. We can move in whenever you are ready.” He walked into the living room and stood in the center of the room.
“What do you think, Pet?”
Grant looked around at the house in disbelief, the last time he’d seen it, it had been nowhere near livable. “It’s really done?” he whispered, a tear sliding down his cheek. “We have our own home?”
Damon nodded and bit his lip. “This is the house we talked about while we were in Japan. The one we made all our plans for,” he said softly. “I’ve refurbished everything and added some things bringing the house up to today’s standards.”
He took a deep breath. “There’s a complete attic on the top floor. Three bedrooms and two baths on the second floor. On the first floor there’s this living room, two more bedrooms, kitchen, dining and formal dining room. A bathroom and a half bath just off the kitchen and a laundry room just off the kitchen as well.”
He smiled down at Grant. “Oh and a basement too. Plus there’s several barns and out buildings and it’s on one hundred sixty acres. Did I get you a proper farm, Injun?”
Grant didn’t know what to say. As far as he was concerned the small apartment they lived in at the moment was a palace. “Oh Damon, our babies are going to have so much room to run and play,” he said, smiling through his tears. “Can we see it all?”
It took all Damon had not to wince at Grant’s words but he nodded and carried Grant through to the kitchen to begin the tour. “I’ve waited to order the appliances. I don’t care what you put in here but none of that damned advocado green shit.”
Grant laughed and shook his head. “Merlin no, when I saw your mama’s refridgerator I nearly puked. That is just nasty. I’d like white please,” he said as he rested one hand over his tummy and settled in Damon’s arms.
Damon nodded and ducked into the laundry room. “I’ve had two hot water heaters in the house one for upstairs and one for downstairs. There’s even room for a gas dryer if you want it.”
Grant just looked around in awe. “Everything is so beautiful Damon,” he whispered as he finally slipped down to his feet. Walking around the kitchen and laundry room, he could see the meals he’d prepare for his family as they gathered around the breakfast table, the Sunday dinners, the ample room he’d have for canning and preserving everything he grew in the garden.
“Damon… how did you do this?” he asked as he came back to stand in front of his husband, a smile still on his face.
Damon sighed. “Some of it I contracted out when the people finished on the mansion. Courtney and I did some of it on my days off. Every day when I had extra time, while you were still in class, I’d come out here and do what I could to finish it for you.” He said softly.
“Spent most of my trust fund and just about all my earnings making it ready in time.” He shrugged and took Grant’s hand. “Want to see the land? It’s gorgeous, goes right up into the mountain and there’s a stream that runs through the back part.”
He pulled Grant out the back kitchen door and stood on the porch. “There’s a few heads of cattle out on the furthest acres but the rest of this I’ll plow up if you want. We can plant whatever you think you can grow out here. There’s room for chickens and any other animals you’d like to have.”
Grant looked around as he kicked off his shoes and began to walk through the grass, planning where the vegetable garden would be. It would need to be at least a half acre if not more, he thought as he paced off an area.
“Damon… can we afford this?” he asked softly as he squinted up into the sky and then back down at the ground, judging the light and thinking of what would grow well. “I don’t start my residency until this fall, but I think I can get a job at the market in town.”
Damon shook his head. “No, finish your schooling.” He walked down to the steps and sat down, looking out over the land. “I paid Uncle Thomas outright for the property. He cut me a great deal of slack as he wanted the old homestead kept in the family. So the house and all the land is ours. All the money I had been sending to Da while I was out in South Dakota paid for it.”
He laid back on the porch and looked up at the sky. “There’s still money left over to keep the farm going if you want.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I took another renovation job as well working on the old hotel out at the lake.”
Grant watched Damon stretch out on their back porch and walked up to him quietly while he talked. As he climbed the steps and listened, he smiled before he stepped astride Damon’s waist and sat down gently.
“You are a wonderful and amazing man Damon,” he murmured as he leaned forward and laid his head on the man’s shoulder. “I found where the garden should be and it needs to be big so I can put up all the vegetables. If we have chickens, then we don’t have to buy eggs and maybe a few goats for milk and meat?” His mind raced as he thought of ways to make their little farm work for them.
Damon sighed as Grant’s slight weight settled on him. He laughed softly and wrapped his arms around Grant’s back. “There’s cows on the back forty.” He said softly. “Guess that means I have to teach you to rope, huh?”
Grant snorted softly and laughed. “No, I refuse to chase another damn cow as long as I live. Look at what happened the last time I did,” he teased as he pressed his lips to the corner of the other man’s mouth.
Damon captured Grant’s mouth slowly tasting him, teasing his lips. He pulled away and opened his eyes, smiling widely at Grant. “Alright then. You can get your revenge on the cows. All you have to do is point one out and we’ll send it for slaughter for our meat. We’ll have a chest freezer sent out with the appliances too.”
Grant just laughed, shaking his head. “We’ll wait until fall baby, it’s too hot yet to slaughter,” he said as he let his weight rest on Damon’s chest.
“No one said I’d be doing the slaughtering, Grant. That’s what livestock is for, you grow and raise your own so you know what you are getting then you send it off to sale and buy more or you cull the herd every now and again.”
Damon sighed and patted Grant’s back. “So what did you want to see now, Pet? There’s still the rest of the property, outbuildings and the top two floors of the house. We have to order furniture and appliances and all that other happy horseshit so we can give notice at the apartment. I want to be in here within the next two months.”
“I think we can maybe do it in a month. We’ve been on a month to month lease now since December, so I don’t think the landlord will give us any headache and that’s fifty dollars we won’t have to pay out anymore,” Grant said as he rolled off of Damon. “Can we stay here tonight or do we have to drive back?”
Damon opened his eyes and looked at Grant. “You want to sleep on the floor, baby? You have early classes tomorrow don’t you?”
“No, we had a test on Monday, so no class in the morning. There’s hay in the barn, isn’t there?” Grant asked as he raised up on one elbow and smiled at his husband.
Damon arched an eyebrow. He hadn’t slept on a tick mattress in years. “I suppose there is. You want to sleep in the barn?”
Grant’s face coloured and he looked down at the porch. “Well… I have a fantasy about a barn and you,” he said softly.
Damon smirked. “A roll in the hay, huh? You do realize that’s rather scratchy, don’t you? Nothing quite like the sweet smell of hay then having it shoved up your ass.”
Grant’s face got redder. “Wasn’t in the hay,” he muttered as he pulled his braid around to toy with the end.
Damon watched his husband turn redder and shook his head. “No? Well then, you’ll have to enlighten me cause that’s about the only one I can think of other than throwing you down into a stall and I really don’t want to play in the muck.” He teased lightly, waiting to see what other colours his husband could turn.
Grant shook his head. “No. It’s that you take me to a barn and use the leather straps and chains you find to tie me to the wall, spread out any way you like and then we… you know,” he mumbled as he sat up.
Damon sucked in a breath and stared at Grant. “No, pet I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” He eyed his little husband. “Tell me all about it in great detail because I certainly can’t make that fantasy come to life for you with just a … you know.”
Dark, lust filled eyes looked up and Grant’s face was a dark red. “You have my legs tied all spread out and you fuck me so hard it takes my breath away.”
Damon licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah and what else? Spread out and tied how?” He watched Grant as he spoke. “Over the stall or up on the wall? Shall I toss a rope over the rafters and let you hang while I do this?” He whispered softly.
“No,” Grant said as he laid back down, lifting his legs up over his head and spreading them wide with his arms out stretched. “Like this against the wall. Open and vulnerable to whatever you wish to do.”
Damon flipped over and eyed the picture Grant was demonstrating. Long tan legs stretched open with Gracie’s pleated skirt bunched around his hips. The pale satin panties just barely concealing Grant’s bottom and his little cock tenting the front.
He reached up and ran a hand over the top of the damp satin, slipping his fingers under the cotton center, stroking the wet soft flesh underneath. “Yeah?”
Grant’s breath hitched as his legs trembled from the strain. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Spread out just for you.”
Damon raised up over him and blew across the panties. “What if I don’t make it to the barn?” He bent his face down and rubbed across the satiny cloth, inhaling the scent of Grant then sucked the panties into his mouth to finally taste him.
Grant’s back arched, his hips shaking as Damon teased him. “Then please tie me up,” he begged while panting. It had been so long since they’d done anything out of the ordinary and Grant was craving something, anything badly from his man.
Damon reached up and ripped the skirt down its front as he continued to suck and nose Grant’s panties. He sat up and finished ripping the pleated material then smiled down at Grant. “I don’t think I can make it to the barn.”
Standing, Damon looked around the porch for the best possible place to tie Grant to. A grin crossed his face and he picked Grant up and carried him over to the edge of the porch.
Carefully going down the stairs he hefted Grant up and held him in place for a moment as he tied first the left then the right wrist to the top of the porch railing. Gently he settled Grant’s feet on the ground, toes barely dancing over the dirt and stepped back.
“Alright?”
His eyes glazed, Grant looked to Damon and nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered, tugging experimentally on his bonds. This was not exactly like his fantasy, but it would definitely scratch his itch. “More.”
Damon grinned and chuckled. He stepped back up to Grant and ran a hand down one tanned thigh, grasping the leg behind Grant’s knee. He bent and lifted Grant’s leg up and out, slowly twisting his hips to the right direction and tied his ankle next to his wrist.
Damon rubbed the tautly stretched muscles and stepped into him, capturing his mouth as he continued to gently rub on Grant’s leg. His fingers trailed down and slipped under Grant’s panties once more fluttering lightly over Grant’s soft folds.
Fighting to keep his slim hold on the ground, Grant tried to force his toes down into the dirt so he could push against Damon’s hand. The ache and stretch in his other limbs warming him and taking up the hill of pain he knew would end with him screaming for mercy. His muscles trembled as a fine sweat broke out over his body.
“More,” he gasped out as his toes lost their footing and his body sagged, pulling down on his bonds, eliciting a pain filled moan of pleasure.
Damon grinned again and backed away from Grant, slightly. He bunched the fabric of Grant’s panties and ripped them as well, sliding them down Grant’s leg and hooking his ankle. He tied a knot in the satin and raised Grant’s other leg from the ground, stretching him out and securing his foot to the other side of the railing.
He admired the Grant pretzel and smiled, reaching in to undo the buttons on Grant’s shirt leaving it hanging open on his slender frame. He arranged the collar flat and slid the shirt slightly off Grant’s shoulders before stepping back.
Digging in his pocket he pulled out his pocket knife, the blade snapping open with a flick of his wrist. Damon trailed the warm steel gently over Grant’s stomach and up to the frilly lacy matching bra. Turning the knife blade up, he carefully slipped it under the gap where Gracie’s breasts used to be and slowly sliced through the satin.
Grant watched Damon, his eyes glazed as he focused on the blade Damon trailed over his body. Low guttural moans escaped him as the man began to cut through his underclothes. He loved being exposed and vulnerable to his husband.
Grant’s fingers clenched and unclenched as he trembled while Damon took his time, the strain he was feeling in his thighs unreal as he felt the breeze playing over his wet folds, teasing him to madness.
Damon cut through the last thread and the bra swung open, He trailed the knife back down Grant’s skin before snapping it shut and pocketing it once more. Spreading his own legs, he dug into the ground and bent his head, licking across Grant’s chest then bit down on one nipple.
Chewing and sucking on Grant’s flesh until it was stiff with blood, he sucked a bit more skin into his mouth. He moved his tongue over the peaked bud and sucked hard on his skin, leaving a bright purple mark marring the tanned skin. He scraped his fingernail across the kiss bruise and move to repeat the same action on the other side.
Grant’s eyes rolled back in his head as Damon went after his nipples, his body on fire with all the different sensations. Thrashing as much as he possibly could while bound so tightly, when Damon sank his teeth into his other nipple, his little cock spurted untouched as he howled over the empty countryside.
Damon grinned around his mouth full when he felt hot semen splash against his stomach. He reached down between Grant’s legs trailing a finger over the damp tip of Grant’s softening cock then across his balls. He cupped the wrinkled skin gently the shoved two fingers in side of Grant’s slit.
Grant bounced and writhed as Damon fingered him. Dark eyes opened to stare at Damon blankly, so far gone his Master could do anything he wished and he’d not object. He could hear a tiny voice in his head telling him he was there for Damon’s pleasure and that little voice made him want to please the man.
“Master,” he whispered through swollen lips as he watched Damon’s face.
Damon looked up and smiled at Grant. He ran one hand across Grant’s face, cupping his cheek as he continued to work his fingers inside of Grant. Stroking his thumb across Grant’s cheekbones, Damon backed away and eased his hand out of Grant.
He stared at Grant as he quickly unbuckled his jeans, taking his cock in hand. He leaned back stroking himself roughly, eyes focused on Grant’s face. Throwing his head back he came, shooting hot splashes of semen all over Grant’s hanging body.
Staggering forward, he smeared his palm through the cooling semen and held up his hand to Grant’s mouth. “My Own.”
As Damon thrust his fingers into Grant’s mouth, the smaller man instinctively began to lap and suck at them greedily. Needy little moans and grunts were coming from him as he moved his face to lap at Damon’s palm, his tongue laving each inch of the man’s flesh to clean it of the salty seed. “Thank you,” he whispered as he dragged his tongue over the man’s thumb hungrily.
Damon watched Grant and sighed. It had been so long since he’d heard those words from Grant. He leaned in a kissed his husband, gently running his hands over the stretched limbs carefully before stepping back.
He walked away from a moment and returned with the water hose. Pressing his thumb partway over nozzle, he sprayed the cool water all over Grant.
Tensing up as the water hit him, Grant’s eyes flew open as he screeched. Struggling against his bounds, he was helpless as he was hosed off.
Damon smiled and walked towards Grant, running his hand down the goosepimpled skin. He rubbed and washed his husband then arched an eyebrow at him. He lifted the hose up to Grant’s mouth to let him have a drink and rinse his mouth. “I’ll get you down in a minute, just need to clean you up a bit.”
After swallowing, Grant nodded in obedience. “Yes Master,” he murmured as he let his head fall forward tiredly, too tired to flinch as the icy water played over him.
Damon reached up and ran the hose over the back of Grant’s neck, soaking his hair and the rest of his ruined clothing. He cupped Grant’s little cock and balls letting the water run down his chest to his groin.
He eyed Grant once more then moved the hose, slipping it up and inside Grant’s body then kinking it off so the water flow stopped.
“Nnnuuhhh…” Grant moaned as he raised his head to look at Damon, his tired body beginning to respond to the hose being forced into him.
Damon let go of the kink and the pressurized water shot up into Grant and back out again. He pulled the hose from Grant’s body and aimed it at his pucker, thumb closing over the nozzle once again to power up the stream of cold water.
Grant screamed and pulled against the railing, unable to even form words as his teeth chattered and his lips turned blue. He could feel the stream of water picking at his ass, opening him up and forcing its way in. Shivering and shaking, he braced himself for whatever else Damon could think of.
Damon decided Grant had had enough and dropped the hose. He walked up the steps and into the house returning with packing blanket. He shook it out and stepped up to Grant wrapping it around his shoulders then tucked one arm underneath Grant lifting the strain of his weight off Grant’s arms.
Quickly pulling his knife, he sliced through the skirt and panty material and tipped the man fully into his arms. He closed his knife, pocketed it and wrapped the blanket the rest of the way around Grant.
He shifted Grant’s weight in his arms and ran a soothing hand over his back.
Shaking horribly, Grant looked up at Damon, trying to speak, his teeth just clicking together. Grant’s hands and feet were numb and swollen, his arms and legs stiff and sore, but he was happy. Unable to speak, he simply smiled through his tears at his husband.
Damon smiled and shook his head, taking Grant into the house. He settled him in front of the fireplace in the living room on the floor then went back outside to gather up some wood from the pile outside the kitchen door.
Starting a fire, he moved Grant closer then retrieved the first aid kit from the bathroom. He had a few supplies here from when they had been finishing up the renovations and hoped it would be enough. Smashed fingers were common enough where there were hammers, so he knew there was a bruise salve as well as some Muggle pain relievers if not a pain potion or two left.
He knelt down in next to Grant and opened the bruise salve. “Give me your hand Pet, let’s see if we can’t get some feeling back in those limbs.”
Grant opened one eye and gave Damon a baleful glare. “It’s warm in here,” he mumbled as he curled up tighter in the blanket before sticking one hand just out of the folds. As he watched the other man, he couldn’t keep the silly grin off his face.
“I love you.”
Damon smiled as he rubbed the salve into Grant’s hand then started up his arm, using deep hard strokes to the muscles. “That’s why I started a fire.” He leaned in and kissed Grant softly on the mouth. “Love you too, Injun.” He looked around the empty room, sighed and smiled at his little husband.
The End