Date: Mon, 10 May 2010 09:01:32 -0600
From: Katya_Dee <concertoind@gmail.com>
Subject: The Year of the Salamander, chapter 16

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All the resemblances are completely
coincidental. All the characters, situations, and everything else in the
story is owned by myself beloved. Contains descriptive sexual scenes between
males. If you are not supposed to read it, do not read it! Feel free to
e-mail me.

   This is a sequel to Specter' Gamble
<http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/specters-gamble/>.  You don't
have to read the first one in order to get this one, but it would make it
easier to understand the characters in this story.



- XVI -



            Frankie and Louie could not believe their own eyes.

   "Do you see what I see?" Frankie said incredulously.

   "I see what you see," Louie said in the same tone of voice.

   There it was, the same damn car they came across a couple of days ago
when that little brat broke Frankie's nose, knocked Louie's tooth out, and
dealt some serious damage to Stan's kneecap. Then that flame-throwing freak
showed up, and things went downhill from there. The hatefully familiar car
took a right turn into a dead end street and Frankie immediately threw his
wheel to the right.

   "Should we call Stan?" Louie said in a very dark voice.

   "No need," Frankie spat an impressive chunk of gooey mass out of the
window. "We'll surprise him. That little shit is going to get a ride in the
trunk."

   "Oh, man..." Louie laughed softly. "Looks like dipshit ran out of gas!"

   "I'll refill him, all right..." Frankie muttered and touched his nose
bridge. It hurt.

   He smoothly turned the steering wheel and turned the car sideways,
blocking the street. Then he rolled his window down.

   "Car trouble?" he asked with very dark satisfaction.

   The door of the car opened, and Frankie expected to see that blond
bastard, but to his utter amusement, it was some tall skinny guy with black
hair.

   "Yeah," he said with annoyance. "Ran out of gas. You think you could give
me a hand?"

   "Oh, I will give you a hand, all right," Frankie thought. This wasn't the
one he expected, but this one will do nevertheless. He didn't look like
someone who'd be able to put up a fight, and he was pretty enough. Frankie
figured that he'd just give his regards to the blond bastard after they were
done with this guy. Not a fully blown revenge, but it'll do.

   He glanced at Louie and saw that their thoughts were on the same track.
He opened the door and got out of the car.

   "Say hello to your little blond buddy," Frankie said in a low voice, and
black-haired guy's eyes widened a bit with a `huh?' expression. "When you
get to him, that is..." Frankie nodded. "Tell him that you had to pay his
dues for my nose and all those burns we got from that freak..."

   "Who the hell are you?" the guy asked with genuine curiosity. "And what
the hell are you talking about?"

   "He'll tell you the story," Louie nodded after he got out of the car as
well. "I am not in the talkative mood right now."

   "That little blond shit broke my nose," Frankie said darkly. "All because
I was trying to be nice to him and help out with his tire problem..."

   The black-haired guy's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

   "Saturday night?" he asked very calmly. "Not too far from the gas
station? His tire blew, right?"

   For some reason, Louie did not like the intonation in the guy's voice. He
glanced nervously at Frankie, but the other man seemed as confident as ever.

   "Oh, so he did tell you the story, huh?" Frankie laughed shortly. "Good,
no need for me to explain anything. Now, are you going to play nicely and do
what you are told or will I have to hmrgph...!!"

   Louie couldn't even tell what the hell happened. One minute, Frankie was
running his mouth, as confident as ever, grabbing his crotch in his usual
manner, the black-haired guy just standing there, staring at him. The next
minute, Frankie was lying on the ground, kissing the tires of his own car,
gasping for air, with the black-haired guy's boot on his head. Louie blinked
several times, glanced around wildly, and almost took off running. He
didn't. He decided to jump the guy from behind and hope for Frankie to be
able to shake that boot off his head.

   Louie lunged at the guy who didn't even turn his head to look at him.
Louie almost thought that he just might succeed, when the guy's hand
collided with the side of his head, and something rather hard and cold
slammed hard into the soft flesh of his cheek. Louie let out a muffled
scream of pain and surprise, and then he could taste blood in his mouth.
Then his entire face felt as if it was on fire. The black-haired guy didn't
even look at him. He simply twisted his wrist slightly, thus causing another
explosion of pain in Louie's face, and then he shoved the bleeding man away,
pulling his car keys out of Louie's ruined cheek.

   "Try doing anything again," he said very calmly. "And I will kill both of
you."

  Louie believed him. Therefore, he just lay on the ground, pressing his
hands against his bleeding face, screaming nonstop.

   "Shut up," the guy said very quietly, but Louie heard him immediately.
"Shut up or I will rip your vocal chords out..."

   Louie bit onto his fist as hard as he could to make himself to stop
screaming. That seemed to be satisfactory enough for the black-haired
nightmare because he turned his full-undivided attention to Frankie who was
thrashing underneath his boot. The boot increased the pressure ever so
slightly, and Frankie howled with pain when he felt like his skull was about
to pop open. The black-haired nightmare lowered himself on one knee, and
finally, removed the boot. Frankie was too disoriented from pain to even try
and take advantage of that.

   "What did you do to him?" the nightmare asked softly, and Frankie felt
the car keys pressing unkindly against his ear. "Speak the truth or I will
push this key into your ear canal, and it is quite unpleasant."

   "W-who...?" Frankie stuttered.

   "To the person whose tire blew," the nightmare's voice became slightly
more impatient, and the key pressed harder against Frankie's ear,
threatening to slide all the way in.

   "N-nothing...!" Frankie screamed. "I swear, oh God...! I swear, we didn't
do anything to him...! He... He b-broke my n-nose... H-he..."

   "You hit him?" the nightmare's voice sent maddening icy-cold shiver down
Frankie's spine. "You had you filthy paws on him?"

   "I am sorry!" Frankie screamed with wild desperation. "Please...! Oh,
God, please...! I am sorry...!"

   "What else did you do to him?" The key started tickling the inside of
Frankie's ear.

   "Nothing!" he shrieked. "I swear, nothing!"

   "Oh, you just let him go, huh?" the nightmare laughed and Frankie started
sobbing when he heard that laughter.

   "N-no..." he stuttered, shaking uncontrollably. "T-the... T-the fire
g-guy showed up and..."

   "The fire guy?" the nightmare repeated with slight confusion. "What fire
guy?"

   "I..." Frankie gulped some air. "I don't know... He could control t-the
fire... H-he s-saw... And h-he..."

   "Burned your asses?" the nightmare laughed again. "Not enough," he cut
his laughter short. "Should've burned you to ashes..."

   "P-please...!" Frankie wailed with renewed vigor when he felt the key
sliding deeper into his ear. "Please! I am sorry! I am sorry...! Oh, God,
please, don't...!"

   For a few very long and extremely excruciating seconds, Frankie believed
that this black-haired nightmare is going to shove that key into his ear
with full force. Finally, the man let out a deep sigh, and then the key was
gone. Frankie felt the guy release his grasp on him, and he dared to look
up. The nightmarish apparition went to Frankie's car.

   "Don't even think about moving," he said unemotionally and opened the
driver's door.

   Frankie watched him pull the keys out of the ignition and walk towards
the trunk. A minute or so later, he heard the trunk slam shut, and the
nightmare was back with a hose that Frankie recognized immediately. It was a
garden hose he kept in his trunk. A wild, teeth-clattering image flashed in
front of his eyes; an image of this nightmare with black hair shoving this
hose into one of Frankie's body cavities. It seemed like such a thought has
crossed the man's mind; but instead, he kicked Frankie hard in the ribs and
said in the same unemotional voice:

   "Get up."

   Frankie got up shakily.

   "Open the gas cap," the man commanded and once Frankie did so, he shoved
one end of the hose into the opening, made sure that it was secured enough,
and then he walked to his own car, stepping over Louie who was lying in the
puddle of his own blood and piss. He unscrewed the gas cap on his own car
and looked at Frankie. "Come here," he said, and Frankie walked towards him,
his knees shaking.

   The man shoved the hose in front of Frankie's face.

   "Suck it," he ordered shortly, and Frankie's eyes went wide. The
nightmare let out very dark laughter. "You didn't think I would do it, did
you?" he said in a dangerous voice. "Now suck it! I am tired of looking at
your ugly mug... Suck it," he repeated in a low voice. "Or I will make you
do so..."

   Frankie took the hose, his hands trembling, and then he started sucking
on the dirty end of it. He gagged, and the nightmare slapped the back of his
head.

   "Puke and I'll make you eat it!" he promised, and Frankie believed him
immediately.

   He sucked that hose until he choked on the gasoline and pulled his mouth
away, spitting and coughing.

   "Good," the nightmare said without a smile. He grabbed the hose and
shoved it into the opening on the side of his car.

   He propped one arm on his side and stood there, waiting somewhat
patiently. Finally, the hose jerked slightly, and the nightmare yanked it
out and threw it on the ground. He screwed the gas cap back on his car,
stepped over Louie once again, got into Frankie's car, and started the
engine. He threw the car in reverse, backed up just a little, and
straightened the vehicle out, getting it out of the way. After he did that,
he got out without even bothering to turn the engine off, went to his car,
and got in without saying anything. Frankie blinked when suddenly, his
engine roared to life. He grabbed Louie's collar and dragged him out of the
tires' way just in time, because the nightmare behind the wheel didn't even
try to wait for him to do so.

   Frankie watched that dreadful car disappear behind the corner and then he
slowly walked towards his car. The minute he touched the keys in the
ignition, the engine died. Frankie blinked and realized that the tank was
bone-dry.



 ****



   Desmond got to the gas station, filled his tank, got back behind the
wheel, and considered going back there and killing those two asswipes.
Instead of doing that, he took a deep breath and flew out of the gas station
lot without even bothering to slow down for the oncoming traffic. He ignored
all the loud honks and kept speeding towards the highway. When he finally
got there, he noticed that his hands were shaking. No wonder Sam seemed
distraught on Saturday night, he thought, his fingers digging into the
steering wheel hard. If that `fire guy,' whoever the hell he was, didn't
show up when he did... Desmond's temples throbbed with aching hatred. He
almost took an exit just so he could go back to that dead-end street, but
then he gritted his teeth, and pressed the gas pedal harder into the floor.

   He got back into the city in some lousy forty or so minutes. He took the
right exit and smirked to himself darkly. If Rayhe were here while he was
driving... Then again, if Rayhe were here, those two asswipes would probably
be dead, and Rayhe wouldn't give a flying shit about the speed limit right
now. He slowed down when he drove into one of the main roads and realized
that his hands were still shaking. He decided to take a couple of laps
around the city until he calms down.

   ...He calmed down in half an hour or so, and he was completely out of
cigarettes. He sighed, made a quick stop by a smoke shop, picked up a couple
of cartons, and finally, went home. Gabriel's car was sitting on the
driveway, Sam's was nowhere in sight. Desmond took a deep breath, threw a
quick glance at his hands, and nodded slightly when he saw they didn't shake
anymore. He grabbed the smokes and got out of the car.

   The dog wagged his tail somewhat vigorously when Desmond walked inside.
This afternoon's ball game turned Desmond into someone less scary and more
admirable.

   "Yeah, yeah," Desmond muttered while kicking his boots off. "Move it,
dog... Just `cause I threw a ball for you a couple of times, doesn't mean I
am your bud..."

   "Hey," Gabriel emerged from the kitchen. "Took you a while. It's almost
eleven in the evening..."

   "I was driving," Desmond shrugged and threw the cigarette cartons onto
the table. "Then I ran out of gas..."

   "You okay?" Gabriel asked softly, his eyes fixed on Desmond's face.

   "Yeah," Desmond nodded. "Preoccupied, naturally... Didn't find anything
worthy... There were a couple of old books in the library on the subject.
Apparently, the person who is to be sacrificed is supposed to be
`prepared'..."

   "What the hell does that mean?" Rayhe frowned and went back to the stove.

   "No idea," Desmond said tiredly. "Somebody ripped the pages out of both
books when it got to the `preparation' part..."

   "Huh," Gabriel said thoughtfully. "What happened?" he asked suddenly
without turning his head.

   "Nothing happened," Desmond shrugged. "Just tired..."

   "Huh," Rayhe said again. "Well, I made food and it's about ready, so grab
a plate and..."

   "Not hungry," Desmond shook his head. "Thanks though..."

   Gabriel left the frying pan alone, turned off the stove, and looked at
Desmond intently.

   "Des," he said quietly. "What happened?"

   "Goddammit," Desmond thought. Rayhe could read him like nobody else
could.

   "Not right now, okay?" he said softly. "I don't want to talk about it
right now."

   "Okay," Gabriel nodded slowly.

   "Did Sam bother calling?"

   "Of course not," Rayhe snorted and moved the frying pan onto a different
burner. "You don't have to wait for him, I will..."

   "No big," Desmond shook his head. "I can't sleep right now. Go to bed,
Gabriel, I'll wait for him."

   Rayhe looked like he was about to ask once again about what happened, but
instead, he simply nodded and walked out of the kitchen, correctly
translating `I'll wait for him' into `I want to be alone right now.'



****



            Sam walked through the front door at 12:15 in the morning, and
he looked like definition of `guilty.' Desmond looked up from his tea mug
and gave him a small smile.

   "Hey, kid," he said, and Sam just blinked at that. He looked like he
expected another hiss-fit from Desmond. "Everything okay?"

   "Umm," Sam said carefully, as if trying to figure out whether this was
some sort of a trap. "Yeah, everything is fine. You are not mad?"

   "Nope," Desmond finished his tea and stood up. "Not mad."

   The dog came charging out of Sam's room, and suddenly, the kid's eyes
were alert. Desmond frowned slightly at that. "Since when he is cautious of
that mutt?" he thought. Then the dog ran into Sam's knees full speed, almost
knocking him off his feet, his tail doing full circles by now, and the kid's
expression became relieved. "Huh," Desmond thought while the kid was making
out with the dog. He had no idea what to make of it, so he just made a
mental note.

   "Well," Desmond said lazily. "I am off to bed. How's your girl?"

   "Umm," Sam said into the dog's fur. "Good, really good..."

   "Sparks a-flying, flames a-burning, huh?" Desmond laughed, and Sam threw
him a strange look.

   "Yeah," he muttered and dove into dog's fur again.

   Desmond made another mental note.

   "That's good," he let out a stifled yawn. "Well, night, kid..."

   "Night, Desmond," Sam glanced at him above dog's head.

   Desmond made his way to the bedroom, positive that Rayhe was asleep by
now, and hating that fact. Right now, he needed some contact. He let out a
small sigh, figuring that since he got another week off, he'd just let Rayhe
sleep. "Even though he kept me up until four in the morning last night," he
thought darkly, and slid under the covers without making any noise.

   He scooted closer to the sleeping figure next to him and buried his face
in the crook of Gabriel's neck, the familiar scent calming him down better
than any sleep aids. To his greatest astonishment, Rayhe's fingers
immediately entwined with his, and then he felt Gabriel's breath on his face
when the other man turned towards him.

   "I thought you were asleep," Desmond muttered.

   "No," Gabriel said simply, and then his mouth caressed Desmond's lips
slowly and gently, just like Desmond felt he needed right now.

   He inhaled somewhat sharply and wrapped his arms around Rayhe's neck
without saying anything, pulling him closer. Gabriel's hand slid down the
side of his body, stroking his skin as slowly and gently as his mouth worked
Desmond's face. They kicked off the blanket, wrapping each other in their
own body heat and heartbeats, saying nothing. Desmond closed his eyes when
he felt the entire length of Gabriel's body against his own. He arched his
back, trying to get even closer, trying to melt into his mate, trying to
become a part of him.

   They didn't say a single word; the silence was only interrupted by their
breathing and small moans, which Desmond didn't even bother to muffle right
then. "What's the point?" he thought hazily while Gabriel's mouth was
caressing his neck. They moved in perfect, synchronized rhythm, which sat
itself somehow, without them even trying. Rayhe slid his face down to
Desmond's chest, and Desmond grabbed his hair and pulled him back up. He
shook his head slightly and locked his lips on Gabriel's, feeling that right
now, he needs to drink him until they both fall asleep. He couldn't let go
of his mouth; he wouldn't let go of his mouth.

   Gabriel sank fingers of one of his hands into Desmond's messy by now
hair, while the fingers of his other hand started doing their own thing,
causing Desmond to exhale sharply, and grab the back of Gabriel's neck even
tighter. Then, after a while, they became one, rocking slowly, without
unlocking their lips, breathing each other, swallowing each other's moans,
mirroring each other's shivers. Then the rhythm sat faster pace, once again,
without any effort from either one of them – it simply started doing the
natural accelerando of its own. Then there was an incredible crescendo,
flying up several octaves at once, and then Desmond moaned into Gabriel,
sending echoes of his wild heartbeat and desperate tremors into every single
inch of Gabriel's skin. That crescendo reached its peak and broke into two
huge waves, covering both of them head to toe at the same time.

   They held each other tight even when the waves started to diminuendo into
nothing, and Desmond wouldn't let go of Rayhe's mouth until all the echoes
were gone for good. Then he finally unlocked his lips without unwrapping his
arms, and Gabriel dropped his head into Desmond's shoulder without making a
slightest effort to move away, to slide onto his side of the bed. Desmond
knew that even though Rayhe was curious and maybe worried about what
happened tonight, he wouldn't ask anything right now; he knew that both of
them were not going to say a single word until they woke up in the morning.

   He was right.