Page 9 of Ride the Whirlwind

“Is there something wrong with Martens? I'm here whenever you need to talk. You don't need to carry this burden by yourself.” Rising to his feet, Graeme went next to the armchair his friend sat on and put his hand on the man's shoulder.

“Arlene called. Another suicide attempt, this time in the bathroom. My ex-wife complained that my son ruined her bathroom's floor, and she has to replace it. Sending Martens there was a big mistake. I told Lon to get him back.”

“Good. I'll ask Mrs. Thompson to get your son's room ready. He'll come and live here, among his people, like it should have been since you checked him out of the hospital.” Graeme's voice, a mixture of authority and compassion, moved his friend to tears.

“Thank you very much. You are the best friend and most understanding, caring boss I could ever wish for.” Doc Douglas wanted to take the other man's hands and kiss them, but the look in his eyes stopped him. “I better go and do all the arrangements,” he mumbled, getting out of the lounge.

Graeme nodded with a smile, then headed to the huge window that offered a panoramic view over the villa's manicured lawn and lush garden. He used to not care about flowers, bushes, and decorative trees, but Keith loved to be surrounded by them, so the boss turned the vast space in front of the villa into a corner of heaven.

Right then, a car passed through the gates, stopping at the end of the driveway a few inches away from the steps leading to the villa's monumental, wooden, intricately-sculpted doors. Graeme's heart started to beat faster, as he recognized the car he gave Fadyen as a birthday present a few months earlier. The boys are home, he thought, going downstairs so fast it was as if he were in his prime years.

He arrived just in time to greet the two young men: arms wide open in an inviting gesture. Keith wrapped his arms around Graeme's neck, his warm breath fanning against the old man's skin, while Fadyen graciously sank to his knees, took his master’s hand, and kissed it reverently, then lowered his gaze, waiting.

Graeme wrapped an arm around Keith and hugged him to his chest, inhaling his sweet, unmistakable scent and caressing his honey-blond hair, flattening the palm of the other hand over Fadyen's light brown, long, rebellious strands. The young man reveled in the unspoken praise, spent a little more time in the same position, then rose to his feet, waiting for new orders.

“You did a great job and kept Keith safe this time, too,” Graeme spoke in a deep, rugged but tender voice. “Go to Mrs. Thompson to feed you, then take a shower and have a well-deserved rest. You’re off duty tomorrow. Both of you have had a couple of rough weeks.”

“Thank you, Master.” Fadyen bowed his head. “I do very little to deserve your immense kindness.”

“The future of our organization depends on your speed of reaction and combat skills. I think you deserve much more for what you do,” Graeme replied in the same voice from earlier, then turned to Keith. “Let's go to the library. We have to talk.”

“Yes, Master.” Keith nodded, following his protector. “Permission to report,” he continued military style as soon as they stepped into the room with the walls covered in books. “The mission is successfully completed without notable incidents.”

“Tell me about the incidents that were not notable.” Graeme bored his cobalt-blue eyes into his protegee's turquoise ones. “We have all the time in the world, so you can start whenever you are ready.”

“The scumbag I eliminated before...he told me a lot of things and called me names. I lost it, and you saw the result.” Keith lowered his gaze, ashamed. “It was the messiest job I've ever done, and I deeply apologize for disappointing you the way I did. Yesterday, while I was torturing that bastard, I'd heard those words in my head again, and...”

“Stop thinking about that, son.” Graeme wrapped the younger man in a warm, affectionate gaze. “Take a shower and go to sleep. You look exhausted.”

“I will, but before that, there is one more thing you need to know. The filthy child molester from last time has a son who is nothing like him and was accused of killing his father. Please, Master, do something about it. I can't stand the thought of some innocent paying for something I did.” Keith brought his hands together in a pleading gesture, his beautiful, turquoise eyes veiled with sadness.

“I'll think about it, but now it's time for you to do what I've told you,” Graeme softly spoke, leaving his seat. “I'll go into my office to take care of some things which can't be delayed anymore.”

“Master, I need you.” The words, although barely audible, were spoken in an ardent, yearning-filled voice. “I don't feel safe lately, but you’ve been busy with important stuff, and I didn't want to bother you. But lately, it’s gotten worse, and...” Keith stopped, waiting for the older man's answer.

We had this talk before, and every time, I explained to you that what the two of us do is wrong on multiple levels. I'll order Fadyen to move back to your room. I'm sure he would be more than happy to comply.” Graeme tried to make his voice sound authoritative and cold but failed.

“Very well, Master. I... I’ll go to my room now. I won't bother you anymore with my childish requests.” Keith hugged himself, heading to the library's door when the voice of the older man stopped him in his tracks.

“Go make yourself nice and clean, then wait for me. I'll take a shower and then come to your room. it won't take long.” This time, Graeme's voice sounded maybe a little sterner than he intended.

Keith nodded and left the room, but the older man knew he was jubilating. What this boy wants from me is so goddamn wrong, but it feels so right, he thought, confused and frustrated. There were no grey areas, just black and white, good or bad, and the man knew where he was but couldn't help himself.

For more than twenty years, Keith became the center of Graeme's universe, the very reason for his otherwise barren, boring existence. He loved the boy with everything he had and was hellbent on taking care of him in all possible ways. Seeing those turquoise eyes shining with happiness was the supreme reward for Graeme, and there was nothing he wouldn't do to get it.

Once in his room, the man hopped into the shower and washed himself meticulously from head to toe, scrubbing his skin until it turned pink. He wanted it to be clean when it would come in contact with Keith's, so soft and unblemished, perfect in every way. Graeme's body started to react at the image of the young man, sprawled on the bed for his viewing pleasure, but he managed to push it in the back of his mind.

The man opened the doors of his spacious closet, pulled a drawer out, and took a neatly folded long silk robe from it. A smile of satisfaction brightened his stern features at the sight of his naked body reflected in the huge mirror occupying almost half of a wall. He still looked in top shape for his fifty-five years, Graeme thought, using the cologne that made Keith feel so safe and protected.

The man wrapped the robe around his muscular form, then exited the room, locking the door behind him. A few minutes later, he was in Keith's room, gasping in awe when he saw the young man lying on his back, legs spread wide, hands above his head in a gesture of total surrender, trusting Graeme with his body, mind, and soul. It was time to reward that immense trust, to show Keith how much he loved him.

CHAPTER 8

The bed dipped under Graeme's weight as he knelt between Keith's spread legs and then leaned over the young man, careful not to crush him under his weight. Although his protegee was pretty well-built himself, Graeme still saw him as the fragile teen who gave himself to him freely and wholly a decade before.

With the images fresh in his mind, the older man started to kiss Keith's forehead, then slowly descended to his eyes and silky, long eyelashes, temples, and cheeks until he reached the other's tempting, petal-like lips. The kiss was tentative and sweet, a mere brush of Graeme's mouth over Keith's, the younger man responding in the same way.

Graeme's lips continued their journey, going down on his lover's neck, which he covered in tender, butterfly kisses. The older man didn't mark his partner by biting down or nipping at his tender flesh; there was no point in doing that since Keith belonged only to him. Even if it wasn't so, Graeme, so authoritative when it came to ruling his organization, was very tender in bed.

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