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To Chase a Feather in the Wind	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 1696 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
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Three weeks later
Dennis stared out of the passenger window as Tom maneuvered his Mustang through the city’s heavy afternoon traffic. He had spent a total of six month confined behind the gated walls of two mental health facilities and prior to that, four months in a secluded cabin, and he found the traffic noise and smell of the city overpowering to his senses. As the journey continued, he could not quell the nerves that unsettled his stomach and closing his eyes, he balled his hands into tight fists and concentrated on not throwing up his lunch. He was starting to have serious reservations about leaving the hospital, and he wished he was tucked safely back behind the brick walls of St. Mary’s. Although Tom was sitting only a foot away from him, he felt completely isolated and he wondered if he would ever again know the feeling of social acceptance or if he was forever destined to be a loner.
When a light hand rested on his thigh, he jumped violently and running a hand through his tousled hair, he turned and gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”
Tom’s dark eyes softened with compassion. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly. “You seem on edge. Aren’t you happy to be going home?”
At the mention of home, Dennis’ feelings of isolation increased. He had no home, he was nothing more than a lodger, dependent on others to offer him shelter. His own family had abandoned him, unable or unwilling to accept his mental illness and now he had only one friend in the world… Tom. However, knowing that the only person who had stood by his side was the man he had hurt so grievously did not comfort him. He still found it difficult to understand and accept Tom’s forgiveness and he often wished his friend would lash out at him and give him the condemnation he deserved. He now realized that he had sought atonement from the wrong man, it should have been Tom that had beaten him to within an inch of his life, not Conan. But he also knew Tom would never have done it, one punch maybe, but never a beating; he was not that kind of man.
Realizing that Tom was still staring at him, he managed a half-hearted smile. “I’m fine, just tired.” He felt the hand on his thigh give a gentle reassuring squeeze and his nerves tingled with arousal. More than anything, he wanted to feel the touch of Tom’s fingertips traveling over his naked body and closing his eyes, he reveled in the contact. He no longer shied away from Tom’s touch, he rejoiced in it, even though he knew it was only done in friendship and that he would never know the exhilaration of having Tom’s cock buried deep inside him, loving him in a way Conan never had. That was just a fantasy, his own private delusion that made him hard at night so he could give his body the release it needed. But it was also more than that. Over the last few months, he had realized that he was in love with Tom. Not in the sick, perverse way he had loved Conan, but in the same manner he had loved before he was raped, with his heart and soul. He had always been a player, never lacking for a woman’s attention, but when he fell in love, he fell hard and that was how he felt about Tom. When they were apart, his heart physically ached to be near him, to see him, to touch him, to breathe in the scent of his shampoo and at times, the pain became almost unbearable. However, he was not stupid, it was, in its own way, a twisted love and he knew in his heart that the feeling could never be reciprocated. Tom may have forgiven him, but he no longer loved him; those feelings had disappeared the moment he had violently taken what was not his to take.
When he noticed the sound of the traffic had become lighter, he opened his eyes and stared out at the familiar surroundings of Tom’s neighborhood. His agitation levels began to rise and his heart started to beat frantically in his chest as he recalled the last time he had been there; heavy rain… an offer to dry off… the utterance of three, fateful words… blind fury… rape… screaming… madness…
His body shuddered violently at the memory and clutching his head in his hands, he let out a loud moan. Within seconds, the car had stopped and strong, comforting arms pulled him into a consoling embrace. “It’s okay,” Tom murmured into his hair. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Lifting his head, Dennis gazed at Tom with dark, tormented eyes. “I don’t think I can do this,” he whispered.
Tom sat back in his seat and gave his friend a reassuring smile. “And I think you’re wrong,” he stated quietly. “You’re stronger than you think Dennis and I know you can do this.”
Strengthened somewhat by Tom’s words, Dennis calmed his breathing and running a shaky hand over his mouth, he gave his friend a watery smile. “You’re gonna make me do it aren’t you?” he joked half-heartedly.
A large grin spread over Tom’s face. “You’ve got that right,” he chuckled and leaning forward, he placed his hand on Dennis’ shoulder. “Just remember, you’re not alone.”
Booker quickly bowed his head so Tom would not see the love that he knew was shining from his eyes. “Thanks,” he muttered awkwardly and taking several deep breaths, he stared resolutely out through the windshield. “Let’s go.”
Tom drove the short distance to his building, parked the car and they walked silently up the stairs and down the long corridor before stopping outside apartment 222. Tom unlocked the door and pushing it open, he walked inside and tossed his keys on the kitchen counter. It was only then that he realized he was alone and turning around, he saw his friend standing nervously in the doorway and it suddenly dawned on him that this was the first time Dennis had been in his apartment since the rape. Moving back across the room, he placed his hand in Dennis’ and gave the fingers a gentle squeeze. “Remember what Doctor Mayberry said,” he placated, “it’s all in the past. Now we have to concentrate on the future.”
After several long moments, Dennis nodded his head and allowed Tom to lead him inside. He jumped when the door slammed behind him and tears of embarrassment and fatigue filled his eyes. All he wanted to do was lay down and go to sleep but he had no idea where he was supposed to be sleeping. Almost as though he understood Dennis’ needs, Tom guided him towards the bedroom. “If you’re okay sharing, I’ve put a mattress on the floor,” he explained apologetically, “otherwise it’s the couch.”
Dennis peered into the small room and immediately the memory of Tom crouched in a corner with his knees drawn up against his chest flashed into his mind and he shuddered at the recollection. “The couch is fine,” he mumbled.
Sensing that Dennis was reluctant to enter the bedroom, Tom remembered Doctor Mayberry’s advice about gently coaxing him to face his fears and walking in, he casually motioned for him to follow whilst keeping up a light, relaxed banter. “Your mom sent over your clothes and some of your other stuff. It’s still in boxes but I’ve made room in the closet and emptied out a bureau so you can put it away when you feel up to it.”
When Tom turned around and smiled encouragingly at him, Booker knew he had to enter the room and taking a deep breath, he stepped cautiously inside. He clenched his hands into fists and waited for the flashbacks to overwhelm him but when all he saw was Tom standing in front of him, smiling his tilted smile, he relaxed his shoulders and let out a sigh. “I didn’t think I’d be able to do that,” he confessed.
Tom gave a nod of understanding. “I know how hard that was for you but you did it,” he praised softly and looking over at the mattress on the floor, he decided to push a little more, “and now that you have, don’t you think sleeping on a mattress will be more comfortable than the couch?”
A small laugh escaped Booker’s lips. “Jesus Hanson, were you always this pushy?”
Pleased that the tension had been broken, Tom grinned back. “I think that’s why we argued all the time, we’re both so headstrong.”
Dennis’ expression became melancholy and lowering his eyes, he shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “I used to be like that,” he murmured sadly, “but not now… Conan broke me.”
An overwhelming sense of sadness engulfed Tom and stepping forward, he pulled Dennis into a tight hug. “Not broke,” he whispered, “confused. He was a psychopath Dennis and he knew how to manipulate and control you with fear. But you don’t have to worry about him anymore, he’s dead and he can never hurt you again.”
Stifling a sob, Dennis buried his face against Tom’s chest and wept quietly. Everything his friend said was true except one thing; Conan still hurt him every day because he missed him so damn much.
**
The soft rhythmic sound of Dennis’ breathing sounded throughout the bedroom, reminding Tom that he was just feet away from the man he loved. He ached to touch him, to wrap his arms around him and feel his hard, muscular body pressing against him but in his heart, he knew that would never happen. Dennis was not gay, the relationship he had with Conan was not based on homosexual love; it was based on cruelty, dominance and a sick mind’s need to atone. At least, that was how Doctor Mayberry had described Dennis’ masochistic tendencies. He had not sought out homosexual contact because he enjoyed gay sex, he had done it to punish himself. However, his damaged mind had reprogrammed itself to think that Conan’s way of showing love was what he craved and therefore, throughout the pain, he had also obtained pleasure. Although Dennis had told Mayberry that he no longer needed to feel pain to become aroused, during one of their private sessions, the doctor had explained to Tom that the masochistic tendencies were likely to remain with him for the rest of his life. It had been a sobering revelation for Tom but it had also made his resolve easier; he would never let Dennis know that he had any feelings for him beyond friendship. More than anything, he wanted his friend’s damaged mind to heal and sexual tension would only add to his fears and confusion, and therein lay disaster.
Turning his head, he glanced down over the edge of the bed at Dennis’ sleeping form. Soft moonlight filtered in through a chink in the curtains, illuminating Dennis’ finely chiseled features. He let out a soft sigh of appreciation and pushing aside any misgivings he felt for what he was about to do, he released his cock from his boxers and started to masturbate. He knew it was wrong but the sight of Dennis lying next to him, his face so tranquil and angelic evoked a hunger within him that he could not ignore. As his fingers coaxed his cock to life, he bit down on his lower lip to stifle the excited moan that threatened to spill from his lips. He tried to reason with himself that he was not doing Dennis any harm, but deep down, he knew he was kidding himself. He was walking a fine line by allowing himself to give into his desires. However, no matter how much his mind screamed at him to stop, he continued to pump his fist over his erect shaft. Staring down at Dennis’ soft pout, he could not help but imagine the full lips wrapped around his cock and screwing his eyes closed, he bit down hard on his lower lip as he ejaculated forcefully over his fingers.
A post orgasmic calm washed over him and opening his eyes, he gazed back down at the object of his affection. The beautiful face remained tranquil in sleep, unaware of the sexual release that had occurred above him, and Tom came to the egoistical conclusion that what Dennis did not know, could not hurt him.
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To Chase a Feather in the Wind