Part Three – Kellen

 

His day hadn’t gone at all as he’d expected. When he got up that morning, the fact that it was Christmas Eve irritated him only slightly. He’d expected to spend the day with Haven in the playroom so that by the time night fell he would be exhausted and unable to think. Memories of past Christmases, happier Christmases, needed to be banished from his mind and the only thing that made him forget was Haven.

Increasingly over the eight months since he’d collared Haven, his submissive had been his only port in a storm. When he and Haven were involved in a scene, all the memories, the guilt and sadness over Cristophe disappeared. So he’d been angry and disappointed that work had forced a change of plans on him. He’d left the house in a bad mood and with every problem he tracked down and solved that mood had grown worse. By the time he’d gotten home, the self-control that contained his anger had become very tenuous. He’d been fit for nothing but an hour’s play and some undisturbed sleep. Opening the door and finding a romantic scene reminiscent of his past life had been the final straw. Everything Haven had done had reminded him of his life with Cristophe and his anger burst forth.

At first, he wondered if Haven had done it all to show him that he was as good as Cristophe. But Haven had no idea how Kellen and Cristophe had spent their holidays. Then he wondered if Haven was just being a brat, going against his No Christmas edict. Any way he looked at it, the whole set up reminded him of so many painful things that his already bad temper had frayed to the point of insanity.

He regretted what he’d done. He regretted what he’d said. His remorse had assailed him almost the instant after he’d made such a mess of Haven’s work. And his regret had made him even more guilty and angry. Coupled with his stubbornness, he’d refused to back down from his angry stance and he’d uttered the words that had sent Haven out into the snow.

Kellen’s hand tightened on the collar as his eyes closed on a wave of anguish. For the last eight months he’d slowly begun to feel more normal. Haven was nothing like Cristophe in looks or temperament, but he’d been exactly what Kellen needed at this stage in his life, while he tried so desperately to heal his wounds.

A low moan escaped him. Haven, with his huge brown doe eyes and light brown hair streaked with blond, had been the opposite in coloring from the golden blond Cristophe with his bright blue eyes. He was taller and more muscular than Cristophe had been. He was quiet and sturdy where Cristophe had been effervescent and ephemeral. No one could truly call Haven a twink as they had Cristophe. And his quiet affection and submission had been a balm to Kellen’s soul although he realized he’d never once acknowledged that.

Opening his eyes, Kellen stared at the collar. How could he have told Haven to leave? How had he become the very kind of dominant he’d always despised? His cruelty to such a gentle soul was unconscionable and Nick had every right to be angry with him.

As he stared at the collar, he heard the wind pick up, howling around the eaves of the house. His brother’s words finally sunk in. Haven was gone and it was completely his fault. He’d destroyed the only person on the planet who loved him unconditionally.

A ragged sob escaped him. He hadn’t cried when Cristophe got sick. He hadn’t cried when his lover had taken his own life rather than descend into a morphine induced coma as his body failed. The pain had gone too deep for tears.

Now, as he imagined Haven lying in the snow, the tears began to slip down his cheeks and sobs escaped his control. He shook so badly he almost dropped the collar, but somehow he hung onto it, clinging to the one thing Haven had been so proud to own.

“What have I done?” he rasped aloud.

“You’ve made it difficult to forgive you, that’s for sure,” a sarcastic voice without a shred of sympathy replied.

Shaking, Kellen looked up, his eyes blurry with tears. A man stood on the hearth. He looked just like Cristophe with the same eyes and face, but topped with dark hair. And wings. Big white wings that spread out from his back like an angel’s.

“Who the hell are you?”

The man raised one brow. “You can’t figure it out? And here I thought my brother would never take a lover who wasn’t intelligent.”

“Oh hush, Rafe. You’re so mean sometimes!”

The second voice came from behind Kellen and he twisted around in the chair. Familiar blue eyes smiled a welcome.

“Cristophe!”

The name came out as a broken wail. Cristophe smiled gently and stepped closer, his white wings shedding feathers onto the floor. Kellen looked from one of the winged men to the other.

“I don’t understand.”

“Told you this wasn’t a good idea, Cris,” the dark haired angel muttered.

“Hush. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.” Cristophe made a shooing gesture at the other angel. “Go on, brother. You have other work to do.”

The dark haired angel rolled his eyes. “Thanks to this asshole my whole Christmas Eve is spoiled.”

Cristophe looked at him with an expression of censure. “Rafael! What have I told you about calling Kellen names?”

Rafael turned away with a disgusted snort. “I just call ‘em as I see ‘em, brother. He may have been nice to you, but he’s never treated Haven right and he’s been a complete bastard since you died.”

“That’s my fault, not his. I told you that!” Cristophe argued.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Rafael’s wings dipped, his feathers drifting down around him.

Cristophe shooed him again. “Go take care of our other business. I’ll take care of Kellen.”

Rafael shook his head. “Good luck with that.”

With a flutter of his wings that dislodged more white feathers onto the floor, he disappeared. Kellen stared at the feathers, shock holding him in a tight grip. Finally, he looked up at Cristophe.

“You’re an angel.”

Cristophe knelt at Kellen’s feet as he had when they’d been master and submissive. “I’m your guardian angel, but I really haven’t been doing my job and my brother’s pissed at me.”

“Your brother? The twin that died at birth?” Kellen asked cautiously.

A nod sent more white feathers floating to the floor. “Yes. He’s Haven’s guardian angel.”

Pain lashed Kellen. “Where was he tonight? How could he have let all this happen?”

A secretive expression settled on Cristophe’s face. “Sometimes, things happen for a reason. Sometimes sacrifices are made for the greater good and there are lessons to be learned from those sacrifices.”

During their time as lovers, Kellen had rarely been angry with Cristophe. But now, he felt an anger like none he’d ever experienced.

“Are you telling me that the two of you let Haven die so I could learn a lesson?”

Cristophe shrugged and a few more feathers floated to the floor.

Kellen gripped Haven’s collar so tightly the buckle threatened to break the skin of his palm. “That’s insane. Haven’s the sweetest person I’ve ever known. He didn’t deserve to be a sacrifice to teach me a lesson.”

Keen blue eyes gazed back at him steadily. “He didn’t deserve for you to treat him with so little care either.”

Kellen’s anger dissipated, replaced by the anguish that seemed to burn inside him like a supernova. Confusion joined his pain. The man he’d loved with every fiber of his being stood before him and all he could think about was how he’d hurt another man.

“That’s what you should be thinking about,” Cristophe told him. “Haven. Not me. I’ve been gone from your life for years, Kellen. And in that time, you’ve never let yourself grieve properly. You’ve never cried or visited my grave. You’ve wallowed in your pain and self-pity. And you never gave Haven a chance all because you didn’t want to be hurt again.”

Cristophe’s voice held a note similar to his brother’s sarcastic tone. Kellen looked at him in surprise. His lover had never spoken to him that way before.

“I’m not your lover any longer, Kellen. You’re not my master now. I’m the one in control of our relationship, not you. You see me only because I let you see me. And the only reason you’re seeing me is because you’ve really messed things up. You’re making my job very hard to do.”

A huge sigh escaped the angel. His blue eyes filled with pity and sympathy.

“I can’t fix this for you, Kellen. Only you can fix this. You need to let go of your pain. You need to show people you care about them. If you don’t, you will lose everyone. You heard Nick tonight. He and Micah are done coddling you and making excuses for you. You’ve become someone they can no longer respect all because you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid!” Kellen yelled, but he knew he lied. And he knew Cristophe knew he lied. He was afraid to care for someone again. Afraid to lose someone again.

“But you lost him anyway.”

Cristophe’s soft words sank in. More tears welled and ran down his cheeks. He had lost Haven because of his own stupid fears of becoming too close to the submissive. He’d been needlessly cruel and he’d caused Haven’s death. Even worse, Haven had died thinking Kellen didn’t care about him. He would never be able to forgive himself for that.

“You realize that Haven was specially chosen for you.” Cristophe’s words were soft with sympathy. “It took me a long time to a find a soul that knew cruelty, grief and loneliness and yet still retained hope and sweetness. You needed someone who understood your pain because they’d suffered pain of their own. You needed someone who knew the difference between being alone and being lonely, someone who had been both, just as you had been. You needed someone with a pure soul who would ask nothing of you and would be happy to spend all their time giving to you. You needed someone who still believed in miracles and love because you no longer believed in either.”

Kellen swallowed hard. His eyes closed on a wave of anguish. “Haven,” he whispered.

“Yes.”

Cristophe took the collar from Kellen’s hand. Kellen opened his eyes. Cristophe held out his hand.

“It’s time for me to be cliché and take you on a journey of truth and understanding. Your life doesn’t hang in the balance, but I imagine that your sanity does.” Cristophe wiggled his fingers. “Come on, take them. We haven’t got all night. You need to see that your heart was never in any danger with Haven. He would never have hurt you as you so feared.”

Without thought, Kellen grasped Cristophe’s hand and stood, Haven’s leather collar crushed between their fingers. The room went dark.

 

****

The bare bulb above the kitchen table flickered as the snowstorm grew worse. A very thin woman sat at the table, a red wrapped box in front of her. In the other chair sat a young man, probably sixteen years old, with brown hair streaked with blond. The woman pushed the box toward him.

“Go on. Open it,” she encouraged the young man. “We both know this is my last birthday present for you. I won’t be here next year.”

“Mom, please,” the boy whispered, his huge brown eyes filled with pain and glistening with tears.

The woman patted the boy’s forearm. “I’m not going to sugar coat the truth from you, Haven. You know I’m dying. I want to make the most of the time I have left. I want to spend every moment possible with you. I love you, son.”

Tears began to streak the boy’s cheeks. “I love you too, Mom.”

She pushed the red wrapped box at him and he slowly began to pull away the cheap paper and ribbon. He reached into the box and pulled out a small porcelain Christmas tree, its branches frosted with snow and glittering with lights. A golden star sat at the top. The woman turned it over in the boy’s hands and pushed a switch. The little tree lit up with a cheerful, hopeful glow.

“It’s beautiful,” the boy whispered reverently. He caressed the porcelain tree with tender fingers.

The woman wrapped her hands around his, over the tree. “I bought this so that you would always remember that you’re special, Haven. My Christmas miracle. I want you to always hold the spirit of Christmas in your heart. It’s your legacy. You were born on Christmas and it’s part of you. Promise me you will always keep Christmas in your heart.”

The boy stared up at his mother, the knowledge that he would be alone soon plainly visible in the deep brown depths. “I promise, Mama.” His words came out in a low voice, his words those of a much younger boy who wished he could keep his mother with him forever. His pain and fear etched lines upon his young face.

The woman wrapped her arms around the young man as the clock on the wall softly chimed midnight. “Happy birthday, Haven,” she whispered into his soft hair.

He clutched her tight despite the fragility of her bones and replied, “Merry Christmas, Mom.”

The darkness descended again.

****

Cold blue morning light reflected off the snow outside and illuminated the bare dorm room through several uncurtained windows. A young man sat on the side of a cot in the corner. Thin shoulders hunched, he moved with a stiffness that came from the bruises he sported on his face and arms. There were more bruises but, his threadbare clothing covered them.

Hastily, Haven shoved the porcelain tree into the small messenger bag he held in his hands. He let the change of clothes inside the bag cradle the cherished item. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was half past eight. Everyone was at breakfast. It was Christmas morning.

“Happy birthday to me,” Haven whispered. “I get to leave this place behind finally. I’m eighteen now. No more foster care. No more group homes. No more bullies and thieves and bruises.”

He rubbed his hands up and down his arms for a moment before standing and reaching for his worn parka. He slipped the messenger bag on, the strap going from one shoulder diagonally to the other. Next, he pulled on the beat up jacket.

The sounds of the other kids in the group home grew louder and Haven hurried to the door, slipping through shadows in the big house until he reached the back door. The sound of people eating came from the doorway across the hall from where he stood. For a moment, it seemed like he would head in that direction, but then he shook his head and slipped out the door into the snow.

He trudged into the main part of the town looking at all the closed shops decorated for Christmas. He huddled in his jacket and wondered where he should go. He had a high school diploma and a state ID that proclaimed he was now eighteen years old. He was on his own with nowhere to go and his whole life ahead of him.

He walked for hours to stay warm, wondering where he could sleep when he had only a few dollars and the clothes on his back. He ended up in front of the city library which was just as closed as everything else. A man came out the front door. Haven eyed him curiously. The library was closed so why was someone coming out the main entrance?

The man stopped and stared at him for a moment, surprised to find someone watching him.

“Why aren’t you home with your family?” the man asked in a husky voice.

“Why aren’t you?” Haven replied defensively.

“I don’t have a family.” The man moved closer and Haven could see that his eyes were red rimmed as if he’d been crying.

“Me either.”

The man stopped in front of Haven, looking him over. Haven gazed back at him, noting his expensive cashmere overcoat.

“Why do you have a key to the library?” Haven asked.

The man’s gaze fell to the keys in his gloved hand. “I’m the librarian. Well, not the only one, but the head one anyway.” He tipped his head to one side and stared at Haven thoughtfully. “Do you like books?”

Haven nodded.

“How old are you?”

A shiver went through Haven. Fear made him take a step back.

“Eighteen today.”

The man sighed wistfully. “Your whole life is ahead of you, Christmas baby. My name is Randolph. Would you like to come home and have supper with me? And if you’ve nowhere to go, you could sleep on the couch on my sun porch. Then maybe tomorrow you could come to the library with me and shelve books.”

Haven took another step back. People were never nice to him unless they wanted something from him and usually, that something wasn’t pleasant. He glared at the man suspiciously.

“Why?”

The older man quirked a brow at him. “Why? Because you remind me of someone I met twenty years ago. I loved him and he died last year. I’m lonely without him.”

Haven drew a deep breath. “I won’t sleep with you.”

Randolph chuckled. “I don’t want you to, boy. I don’t want anyone but my Owen and he’s gone. But I miss talking to him over the dinner table. You’re not him, but at least I wouldn’t be talking to myself for once.”

“My mother died two years ago. I understand lonely and alone,” Haven said in a quiet voice.

The man nodded. “I can see that you do. It’s in your eyes. They are much older than your years.”

They looked at each other in silence for a long time. Then the front of the library lit up as a decorative Nativity scene’s lights flickered on. Haven hugged the messenger bag with the tree in it close to his body and held his hand out to the man.

Darkness fell.

 

****

The desk calendar sat on a leather blotter on the lawyer’s desk. The date was four years later on December 23^rd.

“I’m sorry, Haven. Randolph should have come in and signed the paperwork when I asked him to. The will isn’t valid.” The lawyer heaved a sigh. “He thought of you as the son he and Owen never had but, he should have provided better for you instead of leaving everything up in the air so that his sister ended up with it all.”

Haven wiped tears from his cheeks. “It’s okay, Mr. Walsh. I have enough money for a room in the boarding house and I have my clerk job at the library. I’ll get by.”

Leaving the lawyer’s office, Haven walked toward the bus stop. That part of town was older and bordered on a rough neighborhood. As he stood waiting for the bus, a couple of men walked by. They wore leather and looked tough. They turned the corner and went into a tavern.

Haven stomped his feet to ward off the cold. He looked at his watch and peered down the dark street hoping to see the bus. When a hand caught his shoulder from behind, he gasped. A gloved hand covered his mouth.

“Don’t fucking make a sound or this will hurt even worse.”

A malicious chuckle filled his ears and a tongue came out to swipe at his neck. He shuddered and a hand reached down and roughly grabbed his crotch. His eyes widened above the hand that covered his mouth.

Then he was being dragged backward into the alley beside the tavern. Hands pulled his jeans down and fingers dug into his thighs forcing them apart. He heard a sound like paper tearing and then the hot breath in his ear once more as a hard body pushed him against the brick wall of the tavern.

“Hold still while I wrap myself. Don’t want the likes of you giving me some disease,” the gruff voice sneered.

Thick fingers shoved between Haven’s buttocks and then all he knew was pain. His eyes watered. His rectum burned and his muscles quivered. Behind him, the big leather clad man grunted, heaving his body against Haven’s, each painful thrust making Haven want to collapse in a heap. Finally, the man cried out and stiffened. Moments later he pulled away, shoving Haven to the ground. A wet splat sounded as a used condom hit the cement beside him.

“Don’t be hanging around outside leather bars if you don’t want your ass reamed, ya little twink,” the man growled before walking away. He went into the bar, leaving Haven feeling even more broken than he had when he’d left the lawyer’s office.

After a few minutes, Haven pulled himself to his feet and tugged up his jeans. Shame came over him in a rush and he ran from the alley just in time to catch the bus. Back at the boarding house, he washed himself for hours, until someone pounded on the door and yelled at him about using up all the hot water.

Bundled in the thick robe Randolph had bought him the previous year, Haven returned to his room to find it ransacked and many of his things missing. He sat and stared at the mess, remembering what it had been like in the group home where bigger, meaner kids always took his things. He closed his eyes on a wave of tears and let the darkness take him away.

 

****

The bouncer looked at Haven’s ID. “So you’ll be twenty five on Christmas? Man, that must suck. You never get birthday presents, only Christmas presents.” He waved Haven into Darkness.

Haven made his way into the bar area, afraid to venture into the play areas. He wasn’t ready to participate in a scene. He wasn’t ready for anything other than looking. He’d been going to leather bars steadily in the last three years and he’d been trained by one of the premier dominants in the town he’d grown up in. But now, he was in a new city, with a new job, a tiny one room apartment and a new life. And he was lonely. He refused to admit that the loneliness and fear within him bordered on a bigger emotion, the sensation of being lost.

He yearned for a master, someone whom he could shower love and care upon. He wanted to be needed. He wanted to be necessary to someone. He wanted a home. All the stories Randolph had told him of his relationship with Owen made Haven wish for the same. He knew he might never find it. He had an ugly past. Many dominants wouldn’t want a submissive that might be needy and a bit damaged.

Haven knew he wasn’t as damaged as some men might be who had been beaten and raped and used for most of their lives. He still had hope. He still believed in happily ever after. He tried not to let depression creep in and take his hope from him. After all, hope was almost all he had left.

He slipped onto a stool at the end of the bar, his back to a wall. A bartender wandered over, his gaze stark and assessing. Haven stiffened. He knew a Dom when he saw one.

“What’ll you have?” the man asked, his gaze still sizing Haven up.

“Just a Coke.” Haven pulled his wallet out of his jeans pocket. The Dom waved away his money.

“Non-alcoholic drinks are free for subs,” he said and put a tall glass of dark, fizzy liquid in front of Haven.

The bartender moved away, lifting a hand in a wave to a blond twink who jumped up on the stool beside Haven saying, “Hey, Ray!”

An iced tea appeared in front of the twink and the bartender gave him a narrowed eyed glare. “Where is Nick? Are you supposed to be here without him or Kellen?”

The twink snorted. “Kellen’s not my master and I’m waiting for Nick. He’s running late from work.”

The bartender walked away, shaking his head. The twink made a rude noise and sipped at his tea. He glanced over at Haven who met his gaze easily. The boy’s golden eyes, golden hair and golden skin sparkled. Haven had never seen anyone so beautiful or so supremely comfortable in his near naked skin.

“I’m Micah. You must be new,” the twink said to him.

Haven drew a breath to speak but found that his words had dried up. The twink appeared to be close to him in age, maybe a year or two younger at most. He was much smaller than Haven’s five foot ten, standing not more than five foot seven and with a lithe, slender build. He looked like a fae creature, all golden light and happiness. Haven expected him to sprout big golden wings and flit away any moment.

He cleared his throat, his discomfort with speaking to strangers obvious in his nervous movements and the way he clutched his glass as if it were a lifeline. “My name’s Haven.”

The twink’s brows rose, his expression filled with delight. “What a great name!”

Haven ducked his head and looked away. “My mother named me. She said I needed a special name because I was born on Christmas Day.”

“Christmas!” the twink exclaimed. “How cool is that? So how old are you going to be tomorrow?”

“Twenty five,” Haven whispered, feeling a little overwhelmed by the effusive young man.

Micah’s eyes widened. “No way! We’re the same age! I’ll be twenty five next month.”

“You look younger.” Haven stared down at his Coke. He’d never been to a club where the other subs had spoken to him in a friendly way. Usually, they saw him as competition for the Doms they were interested in. And he was bigger than a lot of subs who often were as twinkish as his current companion.

“You are new here, aren’t you?” Micah asked as he lifted his iced tea to his mouth for a sip.

Haven nodded. “I just moved here.”

At that, Micah took it upon himself to tell Haven all about the club, about his dominant, Nick and about his job as a vet tech. Haven’s head swam with all the information and from the other man’s bubbly personality. No one had ever tried to strike up a friendship with him before other than Randolph, who’d been just as lost and lonely as Haven had been that Christmas Day seven years before.

“How did you know you were a sub?” Micah asked. “I mean you’re a pretty quiet guy. It’s obvious you’re used to keeping to yourself. How did you ever get into the leather scene?”

For a moment, Haven was thrust into the past, the night a few years before when he’d been raped outside of a leather club while waiting for a bus. He shook off the fear and self-loathing and looked Micah in the eyes.

“I lived with an older man for a few years. He was a sub and his master had just died when I met him. I’d just left a group home because I’d turned eighteen. We were both lost. Randolph took me home and we kept each other company,” he explained in a low voice. “He explained his relationship with Owen and I knew in my heart that it was what I wanted for myself.”

Micah nodded. His golden gaze filled with sympathy. “You’re a natural submissive. I recognize the signs. Do you have any training?”

Haven nodded. “Some, but the Dom who trained me didn’t like my limits.” He looked away from Micah again, this time with shame that he couldn’t be what his master needed. Being released from his collar had hurt and it had pushed him to leave his hometown when he had the chance of a job in the big city.

A soft curse escaped Micah. “Sorry,” he apologized, his expression sheepish. “I just think the guy was stupid and obviously wrong for you. You need a Dom who cares for his sub, who lives to protect him and who takes pride in his ownership.”

“I gather your dominant is such a man.” Haven couldn’t help but sound wistful.

Micah nodded enthusiastically. “Nick is, but so is his brother.” The sub’s expression clouded. “His brother Kellen doesn’t have a sub right now, but I bet he’d like you a lot. You are just what he needs.”

“What he needs?”

With a dip of his head toward Haven, Micah whispered, “Kellen lost his sub. He had cancer. Kellen’s been alone for a few years now. He’s hurting but enough time has passed that he’s starting to look around at subs again, looking to play. He needs someone who is sweet and caring. Someone who understands loss.”

Haven nodded absently. He understood loss better than most people. He looked past Micah’s shoulder at the other men in the club and suddenly, it was all too much for him. Everything overwhelmed him. He shot to his feet.

“I need to go,” he told the other man.

Micah laid a hand on his arm. “Wait. Give me your phone number. You look like you could use a friend here in town.”

Haven wanted to tell Micah no. He wanted to run away and never come back to the club. Fear clawed at him. He wouldn’t find what he was looking for here. Someone like Micah, who had everything, could never know what he needed or who might want him. And a man who had once had a sub he cared for so much that he hadn’t played in years, would never want someone like him.

With shaking hands, Haven wrote his phone number on a napkin using the pencil that lay on the bar’s surface. He might never hear from Micah and even if he did, it didn’t mean he had to come back to the club. It didn’t mean he had to be friends with the other sub.

As he turned away, Micah touched his arm again.

“It will be okay,” he said in a soft voice only Haven could hear. “You don’t have to be afraid any more. I know something good is just around the corner for you. I feel it in my bones.”

Haven drew a shaky breath and met Micah’s steady golden gaze. The surety in the other man’s eyes made him want to cry. He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in this throat, but it refused to budge. He hurried to the club’s entrance. Maybe someday he wouldn’t be such a mess, so lost and afraid. Maybe someday, there would be a place for him at someone’s side. He prayed that somewhere out there was a man he could belong to, someone who would make him finally feel as if he belonged inside his own skin.

He stepped out of the club into darkness.

 

****

 

This scene was different from the others that Cristophe had shown Kellen. This one wasn’t so much like a dream where he heard and felt the thoughts and emotions of the people in it. This scene had been one Kellen had lived. Only this time, he experienced it through Haven’s eyes rather than his own. A sharp pain in his chest reminded him that the man he touched in the scene before him was gone.

He stood looking into the playroom in his house. Cristophe stood silent beside him, his white wings occasionally losing a feather or two. The scene had taken place only two days before. Haven’s lean, muscular body lay draped over a spanking bench, his taut ass cheeks pink from the paddling Kellen administered. A spreader bar affixed to his ankles kept his stance wide and his ass tilted up. Moans issued from his mouth with every whack of the leather paddle.

Kellen could feel how the endorphins releasing into Haven’s bloodstream turned each swat from pain into pleasure. Every cell in the submissive’s body was attuned to Kellen and the paddle.

“Please, master! Please fuck me,” Haven panted. He humped the bench, trying to bring friction to his swollen, leaking cock.

One of his master’s hands reached out and grasped his cock, stopping the movement of his hips.

“Not yet. And no moving. You are not to come without my permission. Do I have to put a cock ring on this pretty prick to keep it in line?”

Haven’s body heaved as he tried to drag air into his lungs. “No, master. I won’t come until you allow me to.”

Kellen smiled at his submissive’s prone form. “Good. And no more begging. I won’t fuck you until I’m ready. Begging won’t hurry the process,” he stated in a sharp tone.

“Yes, master. I’m so sorry, master.”

Haven practically babbled in his haste to please his master. A light sheen of sweat broke out on his skin and Kellen stroked his palm over the submissive’s flank.

“It’s heady to watch such a big man submit. You’re really not that much smaller than me, are you? How tall are you, Haven?”

“F—five ten, sir,” Haven stammered.

“Definitely not a twink.”

Kellen’s words sliced through Haven like a hot knife through butter. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the kind of pain the endorphins wouldn’t work on. He tried not to think how different he was from the love of his master’s life. Micah had shown him a photo of Cristophe once. Haven’s heart had sunk to his boots when he’d seen the beautiful young man. He’d been slender and waiflike, even more gorgeous and delicate than Micah. And he was everything Haven was not.

Falling silent beneath the blows of the paddle as he battled his inner demons, Haven tried to find his center, the place that had always held hope within him. Tonight, he found it more difficult than ever before to not let despair swamp his senses. Perhaps it was because his birthday was only a few days away and he knew his master wasn’t aware of it. Kellen didn’t hold with anything sentimental or frivolous like a birthday or holiday. Haven had even had to discourage Micah from getting him a gift. He hadn’t wanted Kellen to see it and become angry.

Haven determinedly pushed his unpleasant thoughts away. He focused on the heat in his backside, letting the sound and feel of the paddle fill his senses. The endorphins rushed through him and he sensed subspace creeping closer.

Silence fell and then he heard the heavy breaths of his master as he came closer. Haven lay still across the bench, waiting for his next order. Kellen’s hands reached for his wrists, but only to test how securely his cuffs were attached to the bench. One foot nudged his, tapping on the spreader bar. Haven wished he could rub his cock against the bench, but the way he’d been tethered severely limited his range of movement. He could hump the bench with his hips, but his master would see and feel that instantly.

He held his breath as two fingers, wet with lube, breached his entrance. They sank deep within him and one crooked, stroking across his gland. He shuddered.

“You want more, Haven?”

Kellen’s voice held a heavy note of lust. Haven knew from experience that wielding the paddle or flogger turned his master on especially if Haven was tied up at the time. Kellen loved putting Haven into bondage almost as much as Haven liked being bound. His master had even begun to learn Shibari in order to take their bondage play to another level. The bond between himself and his master seemed to mirror the bonds Kellen put on him. They tested the trust between them with each knot or chain. Or rather, they tested the strength of Haven’s trust in his master.

Haven kept his eyes squeezed shut as his master moved closer. The brush of naked skin on skin made Haven’s breath catch in his throat. His ass throbbed and the light brushes of his master’s cock against it sent heat and pleasure twisting through him. Kellen grunted as he pressed the head of his cock into the slick crease of Haven’s ass. The submissive had no idea where pain morphed into pleasure. All he knew was the exquisite burn of his master’s cock drilling deep within his channel.

Tears pressed against his closed eyelids. Haven had no idea why. He swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on the thrust of his master’s hips against his burning backside and the thick stalk of flesh seated inside him. As Kellen withdrew and then pushed back in, Haven caught his lip between his teeth, struggling not to gasp aloud. Pleasure rose within him and warred with the wave of longing that made the fall of his tears more imminent.

Haven didn’t know where the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him came from nor did he understand just what he wanted or why the urge to sob uncontrollably nearly overset his control. The sensation of Kellen fucking him, his master’s big cock sliding in and out of his hole, brushing his gland with every stroke, had his balls pulling tight to his body. His struggle not to come equaled his struggle not to cry.

Coppery blood pinged on his tastebuds as his teeth broke the skin of his lips. Haven balanced on the cusp of his orgasm, waiting for his master’s permission to come. The tears, fueled by the unnamed emotional tidal wave inside him, escaped his rapidly deteriorating control. One tear slipped out, tracking down his cheek to land on the leather of the bench. A half sob escaped his lips as he fought to hold himself together.

Kellen’s hips slapped roughly against his but he no longer felt the pain of his paddled flesh. With a cry, his master came, the wet heated gush of his semen filling Haven’s channel. Hard hands gripped Haven’s hips in a clasp so brutal he knew he’d have dark fingerprint marks on his skin the next day.

“Come!”

His master’s harsh command sent Haven’s body into a paroxysm of pleasure. His balls seemed to explode, forcing his cum out in huge waves that matched the waves of inexplicable emotion that sent tears flooding down his cheeks. All control left him and a couple of sobs broke from his lips. His body quivered, overwhelmed by sensation and emotion.

Kellen’s cock slipped from his clenching hole and Haven whimpered, half unconscious from the forces that had released from within him.

“Shhh.” Kellen stroked his hands over Haven’s back soothingly. “It’s alright, boy. You’re alright.”

Shame filled Haven. His master had known something was wrong. He wondered if Kellen thought he wasn’t able to take what he’d given him that night. Fear dried Haven’s tears. If his master thought he couldn’t handle something…He squeezed his eyes tighter. Would he be released if Kellen thought he couldn’t keep up? He had to make sure his master knew he enjoyed what they had done together. He had to make sure Kellen didn’t have a reason to take his collar, to break the bond between them.

“Master?” he whispered in a hoarse voice.

“Yes, Haven?” Kellen’s hands continued to stroke his back, bringing him down from the scene slowly.

“Did I do something wrong, sir?”

Kellen didn’t answer for a moment and Haven lay on the bench, frozen in fear. Finally, Kellen sighed heavily and his body moved away from Haven’s.

“No. You were perfect, Haven.”

Relief flooded Haven and his body went lax. Kellen released him from his bondage and helped him upright. He held him close for a minute, stroking his hands over every inch of Haven’s flesh, making sure he was alright. When Haven could stand on his own, Kellen shifted away.

“Clean up your mess and then come to bed,” his master ordered quietly.

Kellen left the playroom and Haven grabbed the container of anti-bacterial wipes and cleaned up the gobs of cum on the spanking bench and the floor beneath it. He wiped down every piece of equipment they’d used that night before turning out the lights and closing the door to the playroom behind him.

Haven went into the master bedroom to find it in complete darkness. He slipped into the bathroom and closed the door before turning on the light. Refusing to look at his reflection, he took a quick shower, cleaning up the cum streaks on his thighs and washing away the sweat from the scene. He toweled off and turned the light off before going into the bedroom.

He slipped between the sheets and lay on his side of the king sized bed, listening to his master’s breathing. When he determined that his master was truly asleep, he curled onto his side, inching across the mattress until his forehead touched Kellen’s back. The bigger man’s slow, steady breaths proclaimed that he’d fallen deeply asleep.

Tears rose in Haven’s eyes for the second time that night as he thought of his master’s pain. He wished he could take it away. He wished that what he gave Kellen was enough. But he knew it wasn’t. He would never measure up. As much as he knew in his heart that Kellen was his Owen, he knew that he could never be Kellen’s Randolph. Kellen had lost the love of his life and all Haven could do was silently love him and hope it helped his master a little bit.

He forced the tears back, unwilling to let them fall this time. He couldn’t risk them touching Kellen’s skin and waking him. He’d spent a lot of time over the last eight months holding back his tears. He didn’t want Kellen to see them or know about them. What he wanted didn’t matter. Only Kellen mattered. He had to focus on that.

Wishing he could put his arms around his master to comfort him and to comfort himself, Haven instead wrapped his arms around his middle and curled into a tight ball, making sure only his forehead rested against his master’s body. His lips moved silently as he said a prayer inside his head.

“Please bring the spirit of Christmas to my master. Please let him know happiness and joy once more, even if it isn’t with me. I can bear anything if I know he is once more happy and whole again. He deserves it. Please, God. Just let Kellen love again.”

The pleasure Kellen had allowed him that night brought sleep to Haven as soon as he finished his prayer. He hoped his mother or Randolph or even Cristophe could hear him. Surely, one of the people whom he and Kellen had loved and lost would hear his prayer and answer it. It wasn’t as if he was asking for something for himself. After all, the spirit of Christmas wasn’t about what one wanted for oneself. It was about giving to others. And above all else, Haven had given his heart to his master.

Darkness descended as sleep claimed him.

 

****

Kellen drew a deep, shaky breath. “I didn’t know,” he whispered.

Cristophe shook his head. “You didn’t want to know,” he corrected. “Do you want me to show you what I saw earlier tonight? Do you want to see Haven huddled in the doorway of Darkness, crying and alone, his heartbeats slowing in the cold? Do you want to see what Micah found in a pile of snow in that doorway?”

Every word Cristophe spoke drove spikes of red hot pain into Kellen’s soul. “No! No, I don’t want to see it! I can’t bear what I’ve done, Cristophe! I’m so sorry!”

Sobs broke from Kellen, deep wrenching sobs that contained all the pain he’d felt when Cristophe had been diagnosed with cancer, the pain he’d felt when Cristophe had died, all his loneliness, his fear of ever loving again, his rage over being left alone, and the guilt that racked him over his treatment of Haven. Such a sweet man, a man who had only ever wanted someone to love. Kellen didn’t deserve him and Haven hadn’t deserved to be destroyed by Kellen’s stubborn determination to never be hurt again.

He slumped in his chair, tears running freely down his face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he moaned, his eyes shut tight. He couldn’t bear to see the censure on Cristophe’s face. He’d let his former lover down. He’d let Micah and Nick down. He’d let Haven down and most of all, he’d let himself down.

When his tears and sobs subsided, he wiped his face on the hem of his t-shirt. He opened his eyes and found Cristophe sitting on the arm of the chair looking down at him. For some reason, he’d half expected to see the angel kneeling in the spot beside Kellen’s legs.

Cristophe shook his head. “That’s not my place any more. It’s Haven’s.”

“It’s not Haven’s either any longer.” Kellen’s voice came out rough and hoarse from his tears.

Pink lips pursed. “What if there was a chance it could still be his place? What would you do to have him back?”

Kellen wanted to say “Anything”, but he knew it was the wrong answer. The right answer lay in his heart. He thought about what he wanted out of life. He thought about what Haven needed that he hadn’t provided. He looked Cristophe in the eye and spoke from his heart.

“I would give him everything he needs to thrive. I would give him everything he’s ever hoped for and dreamed of. I would give him what his mother wished for him to have, what Randolph wished for him and what Micah and Nick believe he deserves.”

With each word, Kellen’s voice grew stronger with conviction and love. “I would give him what I’ve been hiding in my heart. All my love, my protection, my care. I would give him back a thousandfold everything he’s given me in the past eight months. I would give him the life he never thought he’d have, the one he doesn’t think he deserves. I’d give him as much of me as he could take and then I’d give him more.”

Drawing a deep breath, Kellen whispered fiercely, “If I could, I would give him someone better than me but, I honestly believe that after everything I’ve learned of Haven tonight, no one knows better than I do what will make him happy.”

He blinked as a movement caught his eye and he realized that Rafael had returned. Cristophe’s brother stood before him, his eyes filled with a new respect. The dark angel glanced at his brother.

“My work is done, Cristophe. It appears as if yours is too.”

Cristophe rose to his feet. His wings arched up and Kellen noticed that the white feathers no longer drifted down from them. The wings were full and lush as if all the feathers that had been lost over the course of the night had returned.

“Goodbye, Kellen. You won’t see me again,” Cristophe said softly, his blue eyes filled with love.

“Wait! Where are you going? What about Haven?” Kellen tried to get up from the chair, but Rafael held his hand out. It was as if the angel physically held Kellen down. He couldn’t get up.

“You need to look inside your heart to find the answers you seek,” Rafael told him. “Love is a miracle. Believe in it and believe in the power that it wields. Take Christmas into your heart and hold it close every day of the year.”

Cristophe held out Haven’s collar and Kellen took it, clutching it tightly in his fist.

“Mend the broken bonds, Kellen. You can do it. Just remember what you’ve learned tonight and remember Rafe’s words. Love truly is a miracle. Cherish it and it will heal the most broken of bonds.”

With a shimmer of white wings, the two angels disappeared. Kellen sat staring at Haven’s collar. For a moment, he wondered what he should do. Then, he looked up and saw out the window that the snow had stopped. A star shone its light into the room, onto the chair where he sat clutching the collar that had meant everything to the man he hadn’t wanted to love.

And just like that, it all fell into place for Kellen.

He rushed to get his jacket and car keys. He left the house at a run, his entire being focused on getting to Nick and Micah’s house.