Page 100 of Agony

“And you don’t get to avoid me.” This time, Fisher moaned those words.

“Okay,” Justice agreed huskily.

When the man’s teeth closed at the back of his neck, Fisher’s cock tightened painfully. Justice caught both of Fisher’s hands in his and pressed his palms flat to the wall and Fisher arched his back, pushing his ass against the man’s crotch.

He thought about all the reasons he should not do what he was about to do and the main one was he needed to tell Justice about his past.

That was the only way to see if this thing between them worked. He’d need to open up and he wasn’t talking about his ass.

“Justice, we need to talk.” His voice was higher pitched than usual and Justice finally leaned away from him.

“I know.” The words were grumbled and gravelly sounding and when he turned, he spotted the grimace crossing the man’s rugged face.

They carried mugs of coffee from a freshly brewed pot out onto the back patio where the massive swimming pool’s surface sat like glass, its lights shimmering beneath the blue water. The whole thing was outlined with flowers, bushes, and even a few trees.

Justice had a gardener who came and took care of the garden. Fisher always thought the yard and house were like something he had once seen in a magazine.

Axel trotted out and headed around the yard. Fisher figured the dog was trained to do perimeter checks.

Justice settled into one of two comfortable patio chairs and Fisher sat in the other. Cradling the mug, he sipped the coffee. The brew was black and he didn’t drink it often, but tonight it hit the spot.

“I’m sorry.”

Fisher gazed at the edges of distant sand dunes he could see just past the wrought iron fencing. The sound of waves from the beach drifted on the air.

He knew Justice was sorry.

Of that, he had no doubts.

He took a deep breath. It was time to tell his story. Of what he could remember of it anyway.

“I was six when Tanis stole me from the orphanage. A lot of my years after that I don’t remember,” he murmured.

Justice turned his head to gaze at him and Fisher gave a nod, not meeting the man’s eyes.

“I have what they call cPTSD that makes me forget. The technical term is dissociation from reality. My psychiatrist called it trauma avoidance.”

He took another sip of his coffee, waiting for Justice to digest what he’d said.

“Is that why you said… what did I do?”

Fisher nodded. “Yeah. I honestly didn’t remember, but I had a feeling that you had done something.”

“Do you remember now?” Justice’s voice shook.

“Yes. I do now. My memories come back with time and if I don’t stress myself. I don’t know how else to explain it. I’ll forget at first and then something will trigger me to remember, or my brain will tell me I’m safe and then I’ll recall.”

“I fucked up.” Justice placed his mug aside on a nearby glass table and rubbed both hands over his face, bending his head down.

“We’ve got to work on our communication. If I had told you what happened and you would have told me about what you guys had planned, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“True,” Justice agreed. “I should have discussed the orders I received, regardless of what Savage said. I’ll never keep something like that from you again.”

“Thank you.”

Justice gave him a sad pull of his mouth and then gazed at the swimming pool.

“When I was twelve, Tanis sold me to Solomon.”

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