The Island (9 page)

He’d drawn a line, he reminded himself, but couldn’t find it now.

Lee was good. His mouth was hot, and his tongue was clever. It circled the head of Shaw’s cock, pressing into the tender underside, following the ridge of flesh all the way around, and then pushing into the slit in the head. And all the while his other hand worked Shaw’s balls, cupping them, squeezing them, teasing them. Every nerve in Shaw’s body began to sing. If Lee was straight, Vornis had trained him well.

Shaw shook the thought away and tried to stay in the moment. The last thing he needed was to think about were the methods Vornis had used to break the kid. Don’t touch, don’t touch, you don’t have the
right
to touch, but Shaw couldn’t stop himself. He rested his hands on Lee’s dark hair, urging him gently forward but not wanting to scare him. Lee moaned, and Shaw felt his mouth vibrate around his cock.

“Fuck,” Shaw murmured, wondering what this made him.

No, not wondering. Knowing.

Lee slowly took Shaw’s cock into his mouth until Shaw could feel it pressing up against the back of the boy’s throat. He stroked Lee’s head, and Lee looked up at him. His eyes were full of something Shaw hadn’t seen there before. Was it pleasure? Couldn’t be. Lee smiled around Shaw’s cock, shifted forward, and swallowed.

Shaw groaned, feeling his cock slide into Lee’s throat. All the doubts he’d had faded. Lee knew what he was doing. Shaw began to thrust his hips, listening to Lee time his breaths perfectly. His throat constricted around Shaw’s cock.

Shaw bit his lip as he looked down at Lee’s beautiful face, at his lips stretched around his cock. Lee’s eyes were closed now, and he had a look of pleasure on his face that was impossible to fake. There was no way in hell that he’d been straight eight weeks ago. Nobody could deep throat like that without having a hell of a lot more experience. A novice would panic. A victim would choke. Lee, at this moment, wasn’t a victim. And maybe that was why he’d wanted to do it.

Or maybe that’s just what you’re telling yourself because you want to come.

Shaw moaned. God. Lee was good. He was drawing this out too, just how Shaw liked it. A part of Shaw wanted it to last forever. A part of him needed to come right now. And that detached part of him that owned the voice in his head was telling him he should never have let this happen.

Where’s that line you drew now?

Shaw’s cock throbbed and ached, and his spine felt like liquid. His balls drew up tight under Lee’s hand. He groaned. Time to give fair warning. “Gonna come.”

He lifted his hands from Lee’s head, giving him the chance to pull away. Instead Lee gripped the back of Shaw’s thighs tightly and held them. Shaw came with a shout, shuddering. He felt his whole body spasm as he released. Gasping, he watched as Lee swallowed furiously.

Shaw leaned back against the shower wall.

Lee stood. His tongue flicked over his bottom lip, and Shaw had never seen anything so beautiful. “Thank you.”

“Should be me thanking you,” Shaw said. He reached out for Lee, prayed there was no camera trained on the shower, and pulled him close for a kiss.

What the fuck are you doing, Shaw? This is fucking
dangerous
!

Lee’s tongue, so clever a minute ago, was suddenly shy. Shaw found it with his own at last and teased it for a moment. Lee’s mouth tasted like cum and heat.

Shaw released him. “You weren’t straight, were you?”

Lee smiled hesitantly and looked cautiously at Shaw through his dark lashes. “Not even for a second.”

Shaw almost laughed at that, before he remembered he couldn’t be Lee’s friend or his savior. He’d do what he could, and that was it. “Next time when I tell you to leave the shower, I expect you to do it.”

Lee’s smile faded.

Shaw frowned at him. “Do you understand me? I’m not your friend. I’m the one in charge here.”

Lee nodded.

“A blowjob doesn’t change anything,” Shaw said. Neither, he thought, does a kiss. “Go on, get the fuck out of here.”

Lee nodded again, biting his lip. He turned and was gone before Shaw could be certain, but Shaw thought he was holding back tears.

Shaw felt like the biggest prick in the world, but that was what he needed to be for both their sakes. And if Lee looked as miserable as a whipped dog when he went back into the bungalow, even better.

Chapter Six

In the beginning, in Colombia, Lee had been afraid to die.

That lasted about an hour.

Then he’d been afraid he wouldn’t die, but the shock and the drugs took most of that away. Now, even when his mind was clear, he was rarely afraid. He was numb. Whatever happened would simply be inevitable. He’d been on this path from the moment the chopper landed in Colombia, and maybe even from the moment he’d been born. He just hadn’t known it then.

Most of the time, he was beyond fear, and he knew it wasn’t strength of mind or a philosophical decision he’d made. He was just too tired to fight anymore. He’d learned to shut his own mind down, even without the drug.

But now there was Shaw. Lee didn’t know what to make of Shaw.

He sat on the beach and shivered despite the heat.

Coming down was always the worst. The drugs made him nauseated as his system fought against them. His hands shook, and his mouth tasted sour. But at least this time, he wasn’t in the closet in the house, or anywhere near Vornis or Hanson or the guards. This time when his head had cleared, he was with Shaw. And he knew that was the safest place to be on the island. Shaw’s touch was gentle, solicitous. He was different.

“When I’m off this island I’ll get a message to your people.”

That had shocked Lee. It had shocked him so much it had penetrated beyond the drug. It had stayed with him. He didn’t know if he should trust it, but he held on to it because it was important. It was precious. It was like the painting Vornis had shown him.

“You like that, boy? Ninety-five million dollars. I could buy a thousand boys like you for that price. That’s a thing of fucking beauty, and you will thank Shaw on my behalf. Get on your knees.”

The boy in the red vest looked tired, Lee had thought as he’d obeyed. Tired and unhappy.

Lee shivered at the memory and looked out at the ocean. Shaw had sold Vornis that painting. That made Shaw some sort of art dealer, he guessed. Probably not the sort who owned a gallery and filed tax returns, though. Shaw wasn’t a good guy. There was no such thing on the island. But Shaw was different from the others.

Shaw had told him there were cameras in the bungalow. Shaw had told him he would make a call. And Shaw hadn’t hurt him. Shaw hadn’t hurt him, but he wanted it to look like he had. He denied he was different, but actions spoke louder than words. Lee didn’t understand it, but that was okay. He didn’t want to question his luck.

Lee watched Shaw swim. The sunlight reflected off the water and blinded him. He squinted, and shards of light stabbed his vision. He traced his hand along the edge of Shaw’s beach towel, and his fingers came into contact with the arm of Shaw’s sunglasses. He looked down at them and wished he could use them. But he knew it wouldn’t be worth the trouble if Hanson or his men spotted him.

He closed his eyes.

Shaw, he thought, wouldn’t care if he borrowed the sunglasses, but he didn’t pick them up. He didn’t want to be proved wrong. Hope was a fragile thing, and he needed to nurture it for a while before he put his trust in it.

He was certain Shaw was different, and not just because he didn’t hurt him.

When Shaw looked at the ocean, Lee saw the change that came over him. He relaxed almost imperceptibly, and his hazel eyes let go of their sharpness. He wasn’t Vornis’s guest, then; he wasn’t a criminal; he wasn’t anything except a man looking at the ocean. The slight wistful smile that played on his lips made Lee wish he was seeing the same thing Shaw did whenever his gaze traveled the horizon, whatever it was.

Shaw hadn’t hurt him, and Shaw had said he’d call the authorities once he was off the island—Lee replayed it in his mind just to be sure he hadn’t imagined it. It was unprecedented, and he didn’t understand it, but he wanted to believe it. And both of those things, the kindness and the promise, might have been enough to feed Lee’s hope, but it was more than that. Lee had seen Shaw’s face when he looked at the ocean, and it was the most human face Lee had seen in a long time.

That was that man Lee had gone onto his knees for in the shower the night before. He knew Shaw thought it was just gratitude or a behavior that had been beaten into him, but it was more than that. Shaw was the only man who had looked him in the eye for a long time, and he’d seen past the humiliation and degradation. He’d seen Lee. He’d given Lee his name back.

Lee traced his fingers through the sand.

Maybe some of it was gratitude, but most of it was because Shaw had looked him in the eye. The thrill Lee had felt as he’d gone down onto his knees had made him breathless. His body might have been his only currency on the island, but this was the first time since his capture that he had used it entirely on his own terms. Not bargaining, not begging, and not calculating.

If you go to him before he calls you, he won’t hit you so hard.

If you make it good, he’ll feed you.

If you don’t struggle, maybe they won’t cut you.

There was no shame in taking the path of least resistance, not with Vornis and Hanson and all the others, but with Shaw, it had felt different. It hadn’t felt like a compromise.

If you get him off quickly, it’ll be over sooner.

With Shaw, he had wanted it to last.

The thing with Shaw in the shower had been freely given, and Lee knew that Shaw didn’t get that. His reaction had been confused: first a kiss, and then a harsh reprimand. He was a man used to showing affection to his sexual partners, Lee realized, and he had reasserted his dominance too late. It didn’t matter. The blowjob had been as much for Lee’s benefit as Shaw’s, and he didn’t regret doing it. Shaw had tasted good.

And it helped that he was hot. In his old life, Shaw would have been exactly Lee’s type. There was no harm in acknowledging that, even though acting on the attraction had been frightening at first. Lee had been afraid that it might mean he had become an accomplice in his own torture, and that taking enjoyment in the act meant he had accepted everything that had come before, but Shaw was different. Shaw was someone he might have picked up in a club or at a party, back when he was allowed a choice. And so, in the shower, Lee had made that choice, because when would he be given the chance again?

It was okay to differentiate, wasn’t it? He was in uncharted waters, and it made him nervous. But different had to mean better. It couldn’t mean worse. Shaw wasn’t like the others. His reaction in the shower had demonstrated that.

When you’re with him, you’re okay.

Lee nursed his secret hope anxiously.

He opened his eyes again and trailed his fingers through the warm sand. He found a sand dollar and turned it over in his palm.

Lee collected sand dollars. They were made by some sort of sea urchin, he guessed. They were light, flat, round shells, and whatever creature had once lived in them had left a pattern on each side that reminded Lee of a stylized flower or the first few turns on a Spirograph. He collected them because he liked the pattern, because they were abundant in the shallows, and because it gave him something to do.

It gave him some control.

He would take the sand dollars from the beach and wipe them clean with his thumb. He would slip them into his pockets and kept them until the end of the day. Some were too brittle and were crushed. Most of them ended up on the coral floor of the bungalow bathroom. He used them to while the days away. He used them to keep his focus.

One foot in front of the other. One sand dollar and then another.

In the beginning, he’d wanted to be dead. He’d wanted Vornis to just kill him and get it over with. Because nobody was coming for him. Nobody knew where he was. Shit, he didn’t really know himself, except he knew it wasn’t Colombia anymore. Fiji, Irina had said, and Lee couldn’t even pick out Fiji on a map. It didn’t matter. But now Shaw was here, and something had changed. Shaw was going to get off the island and make that call. For the first time in a long time, Lee allowed himself to think of the future.

It turned out the future looked exactly like the past. It looked like the house he’d grown up in. It looked like his parents’ faces.

No. Don’t think of them. Not yet.

He couldn’t bear it if he never saw them again. Shaw had offered him a slim hope, but even if he was telling the truth, Lee couldn’t trust that it would happen. He couldn’t build himself up like that. He wouldn’t. He could take some solace in his memories, but not too much. Searching his memories was like pulling at a scab and reopening a wound. He had learned to graze the surface, careful not to go too deep. A fine line, but practice had shown him how to walk it.

It was okay to think of places but not people. The memory of places gave him comfort. The memory of people was too raw. He liked to imagine that he was back in the house he’d grown up in, lying in his bed and looking at the ceiling. The walls were decorated with colorful pennants and posters of bands he’d liked growing up. When he’d been home at Christmas, he’d laughed at that. His mom kept the room like he was still a kid. Stepping through the door was like walking into the past. He’d laughed, but now there was nowhere he’d rather be than sleeping in that bed, wearing his old Vikings T-shirt and sweatpants. Home was the safest place in the world.

The next safest place was with Shaw.

Lee looked out at the water again and turned the sand dollar over and over in his palm.

One foot in front of the other, and don’t get ahead of yourself.

* * * *

The stars were very different here. Lee wondered if he would have felt so lost if he could only look at the stars he knew. Or maybe that familiarity would have made it worse.