Date: Mon, 20 Sep 2010 14:22:25 -0600
From: Katya_Dee <concertoind@gmail.com>
Subject: The Dreamtrap - chapter 18

This is a story of fiction, all resemblances (dead or alive) are eerily
coincidental. Everything in the story is owned by myself beloved. Contains
descriptive sexual scenes between males, if you are not supposed to read it
then don't. Feel free to e-mail me.

****

- XVIII -



            He came back to school forty-five minutes later and went into
the main office to grab something out of his mailbox. The secretary glanced
up when she heard the door opening, and then she froze in her spot, staring
at Desmond without blinking.

   "Morning to you too, Loretta," he said gloomily, walking towards his
mailbox.

   The secretary got up very slowly and followed him, as if she wasn't sure
whether it was real or she was just seeing things.

   "It's real," Desmond said without turning around, digging through papers
in his mailbox.

   "It..." Loretta coughed. "It looks good on you," she said slowly, her
eyes locked on Desmond's hair still.

   "Uh huh," he said, knowing that she meant it.

   "Loretta!" Desmond suddenly heard Tess' voice. "Did I leave one of my
journals in here earlier this morning?"

   Loretta blinked and turned around.

   "Yes, you did," she nodded. "I put it in your mailbox."

   "Thank you, Loretta..."

   Desmond sighed and straightened up when Tess got closer. She glanced at
him indifferently and turned towards her mailbox. Then she froze for a
second, straightened up, turned around, and stared at him with the same
blink-free expression as Loretta did several minutes ago.

   "Holy hell, Rae," she said finally in a low voice. "What did you do to
your hair?"

   "*I *didn't do anything to it," he said pointedly. "Someone else did."

   She kept staring at him, and he sighed again. Earlier this morning, after
he asked Gabriel whether he hated his long hair, he wasn't quite convinced
when Rayhe said that he loved it; therefore, he decided to eavesdrop on
Gabriel's thoughts, hoping that the other man would forget about that mental
barrier of his. Gabriel did forget, to Desmond's satisfaction, and when
there was, "...short hair would look a hell of a lot better on him," Desmond
made sure that nothing reflected on his face. "Dammit," he thought bitterly
– he liked his hair. Finally, he figured that it's just hair, and that it
would grow back. That and Rayhe never said anything about him disliking it
for four years, and it was clear that he wouldn't say anything ever, because
Desmond liked it, and "...that's the only thing that matters."

   Therefore, after talking to Tess, he headed to the nearest hair salon,
and now his hair barely touched his ears on the sides, was very short in the
back, a little longer in the front, and spiked up on top.

   "Holy hell," Tess said again. "This makes you look ten years younger,
Rae! If I were you, I would keep it this way," she nodded and looked at her
watch. "Gotta go," she said busily and glanced at him again. "Keep it this
way," she repeated with another firm nod and left.

   Desmond hemmed, grabbed the papers that he needed, and left the main
office as well, wondering about Rayhe's reaction when he sees him tonight.
His head felt strangely light; it felt weird.



****



   He came home, made some tea, lit a cigarette, and sat down, leaning on
the kitchen table with one elbow. Soon enough, he heard the sound of Rayhe's
engine purring outside. He grinned to himself; this will be fun, he thought.
Gabriel pushed the front door open and walked inside, throwing his keys on
the little table.

   "My head hurts," he said gloomily without looking at Desmond. "The
computer was having problems all day today; you have no idea how many files
I had to re-do and how many accounts I..."

   He stopped talking and moving at the same time when he finally looked at
Desmond, who watched him calmly, puffing on his cigarette.

   "Tea?" Desmond asked finally, and Gabriel made some strange sound in the
back of his throat. Desmond sighed and killed his cigarette. "Rayhe, wake
up," he got off the chair and went towards the cupboard. "Don't tell me that
you hate it," he grimaced and dropped a teabag into a mug he retrieved from
the shelf. "Because if you do, in fact, hate it, then tough! It will take a
while to grow back... Also, if you hate it, I swear to God, I am going
to..."

   He never finished his threat because all of a sudden, Rayhe was right
next to him, spinning him around, and slamming him into the fridge. Desmond
let out a surprised groan when his back made a rather hard impact with the
door of the fridge.

   "Rayhe, what the..."

   He didn't finish this question either, because Gabriel shut him up with
his mouth, and Desmond correctly translated this into, "I really like your
new haircut."

   "You've heard me this morning, haven't you?" Gabriel muttered several
minutes later, pulling away just a little.

   "Uh huh," Desmond replied and pulled him back.

   "Oh..." was all Rayhe said to that, his hands busy with Desmond's
clothes, the fact that his head was hurting a minute ago nothing, but a
thing of the forgotten past.

   "Not on the floor..." Desmond managed to mutter several minutes later
when both of them were wearing nothing but identical panting expressions.
"Too bloody hard..."

   "Uh..." Gabriel replied, stumbling backwards without letting go of
Desmond's waist.

   They managed to get to the living room without losing their balance on
the way. Gabriel threw himself onto the couch, pressing his back into one of
the larger cushions while kicking the rest of them onto the floor, and
pulled Desmond on top, his fingers very busy with their shaky, hurried task,
his mouth glued to Desmond's throat. Finally, Desmond growled something
impatiently and pushed Gabriel's hand away, hissing something that ended
with, "...will be fine...!"

   "Uh..." Gabriel said again, and his head fell back, both of his hands
locking hard on Desmond's hips when the other man pressed his knees on
either side of him, and impaled himself on Rayhe's body, sinking all the way
immediately with a short, loud exhale.

   "Oh, hell, Rayhe..." Desmond muttered through his clenched teeth,
reaching behind him with trembling hand and finding what he was looking for
almost right away, his fingers firm and gentle at the same time.

   Gabriel made yet another strange sound in the back of his throat when he
felt those fingers rubbing and massaging him just the right way, and his
legs jerked apart all on their own, without even a slightest effort from
him.

   "God, that's good..." he thought hazily, and then Desmond started to move
slowly, making Gabriel's back to arch off the couch. "Rhythm..." Rayhe
thought, biting his lip. "Des, do it in the same rhythm..."

   Desmond obliged, and Gabriel moaned something unintelligible in
appreciation. Desmond shifted slightly on top of him without losing that
slow, steady rhythm, and then he muttered:

   "Left... Gabriel, go left just a..."

   Rayhe didn't wait for him to finish the sentence, quickly rotating his
hips slightly to the left, and Desmond's head flew backwards a few seconds
later, fingers of his free hand digging into Gabriel's thigh rather tightly.

   "Nngh... Yeah...!" he managed, and then he moved faster, slamming himself
harder on Gabriel's responsive, eager hips.

   They kept this not-quite-slow-but-not-yet-fast tempo for a while,
Desmond's fingers digging deeper into Rayhe's leg every time yet another
hard slam made his body shudder, fingers of his other hand never losing
their targets, becoming more insistent, making Gabriel's throat produce more
of those strange, delicious sounds.

   "God..." Gabriel thought, biting his lip mercilessly, his eyes locked on
Desmond's face, his hands on his mate's hips. "God, I love you... Fucking
hell, Des... I love you..."

   "I..." Desmond breathed without looking away. "I love you..."

   Hearing those words again, made Gabriel's hips to start moving much
faster, and Desmond let out a series of short, loud growls when speed
immediately reflected on the force as well. His eyes rolled backwards, and
he muttered in a shaky voice:

   "Rayhe... Nngh...! Rayhe, slow down... Oh, shit, Gabriel, slow...
Oooh...!"

   Gabriel acted as if he didn't hear a single word, and instead of slowing
down, he made his body to pick up even more speed, his hands never letting
go of Desmond's hips, forcing the other man to keep this accelerando-ing
tempo of his.

   "Rayhe..." Desmond moaned. "Oh, damn you, Rayhe...! Gabriel, I'm gonna...
Aaah...!"

   His head flew backwards, his fingers finally letting go of their targets
and clutching onto Gabriel's hip desperately, while he moaned out something
that didn't make much sense. His entire body tensed up to an enormous degree
for several seconds, and then he let out a shaky, moaning exhale, and
groaned something that sounded like, "Oh, hell, yes...!" while his body was
losing all that tension in hard, convulsing tremors.

   Gabriel took one of his hands off Desmond's hip and wrapped it around the
other man's wildly spasming length, quickly running his palm up and down
with just enough pressure to prolong those sweet spasms. He started slowing
his hand down after a while, relaxing his grasp, when suddenly, Desmond
mumbled something else, his back arched even more, and Gabriel couldn't
believe it when there was yet another series of contractions and wild
convulsions.

   That was the last straw for Rayhe, and he followed his mate's suit,
squeezing his eyes shut, and calling Desmond's name in almost begging voice,
the back of his head pressing harder into the cushion while he arched off
the couch helplessly.

   "Holy... Hell..." he managed some time later, after Desmond collapsed on
top of him in limp heap. "Hold on... You came *twice*?"

   "Uh huh..." was Desmond's mumbling reply.

   "Holy shit..." Gabriel muttered and closed his eyes.

   "I take it you like the haircut...?" Desmond asked in a low voice several
minutes later.

   "It's okay," Gabriel said lazily, and Desmond let out slow laughter.

   "Sleeping on the couch tonight?" he asked without opening his eyes.

   "That works," Gabriel agreed and blindly reached for the blanket that he
tossed on the floor earlier.

   He managed to grab it on the third try, threw it over both of them, and
locked his arms tighter around Desmond. "God, I hope you don't have any
dreams tonight..." he thought with a small sigh.

   "Mmm..." Desmond said in agreement.



****



   When he opened his eyes and looked around, his first thought was, "Oh,
thank God, this is nothing but a normal dream...!" Then he looked around
more carefully, feeling wary about the fact that everything felt so
suspiciously vivid. He wasn't in his living room now, and there was no
transparency that threatened to swallow him whole; also, there was no anyone
else's room or presence. He was outside right now; it seemed like he was in
some strange parking lot with the lights that burned out quite a while ago.

   Desmond took a deep breath and immediately coughed, choking on some
nauseating smell.

   "Goddammit..." he muttered and pressed his palm against his mouth,
forcing all those gargling waves back down his throat.

   He looked around once again, and this time, he saw the culprit of his
gagging fit. He was standing not too far from a dumpster, which seemed to be
overflowing with garbage and rats. He swore again without taking his palm
off his face, and quickly walked away from the dumpster. Finally, he stopped
and slowly lowered his hand, sniffing air just a little. It seemed to be
just fine, and Desmond inhaled more deeply, somewhat relieved. Puking in the
dream would suck even more than not being able to control the entire event,
he thought gloomily.

   "Is this a normal dream or not...?" he thought with a deep frown, trying
to figure it out, looking around with narrowed eyes. "There is nobody here;
the place is completely unfamiliar – it is clear that I have never been here
before... Hell, I *know *I have never been here before...! Yet, everything
feels so bloody real...!"

   He was still glancing around, talking to himself silently, when suddenly,
he heard some noise. He immediately shut his inner voice up, and listened
harder. There it was again, the same sound. He frowned deeper when he
realized that it was a sound of someone's harsh laughter.

   "So much for nobody being here," he thought, gritting his teeth, and
unwillingly moved towards that sound, knowing that this damn new ability of
his is not going to let him out unless he witnesses whatever it was that it
wanted him to witness. He didn't have any idea how he knew that, he just
did. He made his way around a small building, which looked like an
out-of-business gas station, and then he froze in his tracks, trying to
blend in with the shadows.

   There were two men in front of him (maybe thirty feet away if that); one
of them was sitting on the dirty asphalt, while the other one stood near
him, his entire form frozen and rigid. The second man was holding a decent
size knife, Desmond realized a few seconds later; the man's fingers wrapped
so tightly around knife's handle that the knuckles turned white. Unlike in
the rest of the parking lot, the lights in this particular section were
alive.

   Desmond looked at the guy on the asphalt. It seemed like he was
incapacitated. Desmond narrowed his eyes, trying to see the reason for that,
and then he did. It seemed like the man was trapped in some bizarre-looking
device; Desmond thought that it looked like a bastard child of a rattrap and
meat-grinder. The trapped man laughed again, in the same hollow, eerie
manner as he did several minutes ago.

   "If you gonna do it," he said in a low voice. "Then bloody do it
already...! What are you going to do, by the way?" Now he sounded genuinely
interested. "Are you going to rip my fingernails out one by one...? Or
maybe, you will break my fingers and toes really slowly...?" He laughed
again, shorter this time. "I see that you have a knife in your hand," he
said almost intimately. "You haven't used it yet..." He gave the frozen
person a long, mocking look. "Maybe you are going to chop me into pieces,
huh...? Well..." He let out another mocking laughter. "Whatever it is, hurry
up, will you? I am getting bored...!"

   Desmond slowly shifted his gaze to the person with the knife, and several
seconds later, he closed his eyes. The rigid guy with the blade was none
other than Rayhe.

   "Dammit," Desmond thought helplessly, making sure he didn't produce any
sounds. "I don't even have to realize that it's about to hit me before it
actually does? God-bloody-dammit...!"

   The man in the strange-looking device laughed again, with more
satisfaction this time.

   "You can't, can you?" he asked a few seconds later in a low voice. "You
can't kill a human being... Don't feel bad," he shrugged lightly. "Not
everyone can do it, you know... Killing someone is harder than it sounds. I
am not talking about crimes of passion..." He tried shifting slightly, but
apparently, the device didn't agree with that, because there was a quick
flash of pain reflecting on his face, and then he stopped moving, holding
still. "I am talking about premeditated stuff..."

   He said the word `premeditated' slower than the rest of the sentence,
almost breaking it into separate syllables, as if the word left some
delicious flavor on his tongue.

   "...`cause that's what you did," the man continued, and Rayhe's fingers
dug even deeper into the handle of the knife he was holding. "You
premeditated it..."

   There it was, the same word broken into slow syllables. The man smiled.

   "Planned everything, so methodically... Impressive, really...! Except,
you didn't take just one single thing into account..." He slyly cocked his
head to the right. "Yourself," he murmured a second later. "You can't do it,
Gabriel... That what makes us different, you and me... I would kill you in a
heartbeat if we traded places, and I would take my sweet time too," he
nodded without looking away from Rayhe's face. "But you are different; too
good, too clean-cut, too bloody noble..." He smiled again. "Go home,
Gabriel... Go home and leave these dirty games for bad boys; you are not one
of them... Don't worry about getting me out of this trap of yours," he
shrugged. "I got out of worst ones in my time, I'll be fine. Go home," he
nodded, and for a second, Desmond thought that what Rayhe would do, but then
the man spoke again.

   "To be honest, I don't even understand why you are so hell-bent on
wasting me..." He looked genuinely thoughtful right now. "I didn't kill
her...!"

   Rayhe's shoulders became even more tense than they were already.

   "She did it herself," the man continued in the same thoughtful manner.
"All I did was fuck her..."

   That was when Desmond realized that the trapped man did *not *want Rayhe
to leave; he wanted him to finish what he started; he wanted him to end it
all right here and now. Desmond bit his lip slightly, his eyes narrow.

   "It was good too," the man was saying meanwhile. "I made her come..."
Here he smiled almost smugly. "Twice," he nodded.

   "Rayhe, he is provoking you," Desmond thought, digging his fingernails
into his palms.

   "She kept screaming for more..." the man kept saying. "Could not get
enough..."

   Rayhe took a quick step forward, and Desmond shut himself up just before
any sound escaped his mouth. He almost said, "Rayhe, don't...!" when Tess'
warning sounded loud and clear in his head. *"Do not interfere!"*

   He watched Gabriel lean closer to the trapped man on the dirty asphalt
and swipe the blade across his throat in one quick, shaky move. Blood gushed
out onto his hands and shoes almost immediately, but Rayhe didn't move away;
he just straightened up and watched the man thrash in the metal trap.

   "Welcome..." the man managed to gargle. "...to the... club..."

   Gabriel didn't say anything; he stood still, watching the man die. Then
he grasped the knife even harder and turned around. Desmond took a quick
step into the shadows, but he was a second too late.

   "Who are you?" Gabriel asked in colorless voice, looking at him without
blinking.

   "Nobody," Desmond said quietly. "This is a dream, Gabriel... Nothing but
a dream..."

   Gabriel watched him thoughtfully for several minutes, and then he nodded
absent-mindedly and started walking away.

   "First one is always the worst," Desmond called after him, and Rayhe
stopped for a few seconds, his shoulders rigid.

   "I wouldn't know," he said without turning. "I will never do it again."

   "Yes, you will," Desmond thought without saying anything else.

   He watched Gabriel disappear in the darkness, and then everything around
him swayed slightly, as if he were drunk, and Desmond knew that he was about
to leave this place for good.

   He was right.

 ****

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