The Dreamtrap - 18. Chapter 18

- 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 saw 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 heard me this morning, didn'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 slightly shifted 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, mercilessly biting his lip, 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 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 hard 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 an almost begging voice, the back of his head pressing harder into the cushion while he helplessly arched off the couch.

“Holy... Hell...” he managed some time later, after Desmond collapsed on top of him in a 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. He was outside right now; it seemed like he was in some strange parking lot with streetlights 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 gurgling 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 was not going to let him out until he witnessed whatever it was that it wanted him to witness. 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. He looked like he was maybe nineteen years old right now.

“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 slightly bit his lip, 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 a 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 absent-mindedly nodded 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.