“Oh, your rapist mistress doesn’t like being stopped? What a shame.”
“Rapist? Watch your mouth.”
Duncan held Spencer tighter. “Or else?” Facing him off, knowing he couldn’t do any serious harm to him.
The man smirked. “I’ll see you around.”
“I hope the fuck not.”
Watching him turn and leave, he blew a breath and opened the car door, settling Spencer on the back seat. Buckling his waist in, as usual. He smoothed his hair out of his pale face.
“Fuck…”
Spencer breathed. “Help…”
“You’re in the car. We’re leaving.” Squeezing his hand to maybe get some life back into him.
Spencer smiled. “Leaving…”
“Yes. Fucking hell. Yes.” He patted his arm and closed the door.Shit.
Driving away, hurrying home as best as he could, his blood boiling.Rich fucks. Fuck them.
Spencer slept until next morning, and Duncan had stayed with him, lying on the bed after he had put out the sign and closed the door. He couldn’t undress Spencer but had managed to pull his shoes and pants off. During the night, Spencer had found him, and slept on his chest, drooling all over it. Duncan just held him, his hand on his ribs so he could feel him breathe. Hoping he didn’t have to take him to the hospital.
He stirred when the sun had flooded the room, smacking his lips. Not even being able to lift his head off that familiar chest, drenched in drool. “It’s morning…?”
“Yes.” He pushed his hand in his hair, stroking softly.
“Fuck…” Floating a bit on his touch.
“Exactly.”
Spencer sighed. “Did I fuck her?”
“What do you remember?”
“Kissing…”
“Yeah… you had a moment of clarity when you asked for me, so I took you out of there.”
“So she didn’t…?”
“She sure tried.”
Spencer moved to look at him. “I made out with her?”
“That, and stroking her back, and you let her push her hand in your shirt… and so on.”
“Fuck…” He rolled on his back, hiding behind his arm. “And you…”
“I watched until you called me over.”
“I don’t remember.”
“Fuck knows what she put in your joint. You want to see a doctor?”
“No… I’m dizzy and I need a pill… and a drink…”
