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Beneath a Heart of Darkness	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 4657 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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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Relaxed and content in the knowledge his body was once again his own, Tom slept for another two hours. It was a peaceful, dreamless sleep, but eventually, the heat of the sun’s rays dancing over his upturned face roused him from his slumber and rolling over, he sought comfort from his lover’s muscular body. However, when his searching hands found nothing but mattress, he opened his eyes and stared at the empty side of the bed. Disappointment pushed his lower lip into a sulky pout. Now his body was awake and willing, he had hoped for another round of play. But he was determined not to let his discontent spoil what was arguably one of the best days of his life, and with a loud, exaggerated yawn, he stretched out his limbs and slowly considered the pros and cons of leaving the protective warmth of the rumpled bed. Several minutes of serious contemplation passed, but the insistent pressure inside his bladder eventually made his decision easy, and with a weary groan, he climbed from the bed.
Standing naked in the middle of the room, he considered his options. Although he had shared a magical, intimate moment with Booker just hours before, he quickly came to the conclusion he did not feel comfortable walking out of the bedroom with his pride and joy swinging in the breeze. However, with his urge to pee now becoming an issue, he did not have time to sort through the jumble of clothing lying in a heap on the floor. So rather than risk the embarrassment of losing control of his bladder for a second time, he grabbed the first items at hand, and quickly dressing in boxers, tee shirt, and hoodie, he hurried from the room and into the bathroom next door.
After relieving his aching bladder, he stood at the sink and washed his hands and face. When he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, he paused for a moment and studied the tiny droplets of water adorning his pale skin. For the first time in weeks, his face did not wear the expression of a man condemned to a lifetime of misery. Instead, there was a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes, the shimmering radiance helping to extenuate the dark shadows marring the delicate skin beneath. He had wrongly believed the Tom Hanson of old had died on the basement floor of the Pi Tau frat house, but he now realized his spirit had only been sleeping, waiting for his prince to breathe new life into his broken body and awaken him from his nightmare. The sentimentality behind the metaphor immediately had him blushing, and grabbing a towel, he quickly buried his face in the folds of fabric under the pretense of wiping the droplets of water from his dripping skin. But no amount of posturing could banish the thought from his mind. Booker was his knight in shining armor, and he would forever remain indebted to the dark-haired officer for freeing him from the torment of his own damaged mind.
A bashful approximation of a smile played over his lips, and eager to see the man who had delivered him from evil, he hung the towel back on the railing and rechecked his reflection in the mirror. After deciding his morning breath was not an attractive way to greet his lover, he quickly brushed his teeth. He was surprised by the level of nervousness coursing through his veins, and he found a way to stall for several moments longer by obsessively running his shaky fingers through his sleep-tousled hair. The reason behind his anxiety was unclear, but he figured part of his hesitancy was the fear of rejection. His encounter with Booker was his first consensual homosexual act, and he was still getting his mind around the whole experience. While he did not doubt his love for the dark-haired officer, he was still coming to terms with the depth of feeling and his willingness to switch sides. He had never felt an attraction toward another man before, and yet, there he was, standing in a bathroom, prettying himself up for the man he now considered his lover. It was a surreal, almost spiritualistic awareness that was both exhilarating and vaguely disconcerting. He understood why his life had changed so dramatically after his rape, but what still confused him was how the man he once hated could make his heart flutter with a single look. The shift in attitude was baffling, yet he did not question its authenticity. He knew his own mind, he was in love with Dennis Booker, and that was all that mattered.
Once satisfied with his appearance, he took a deep, calming breath and wiping his sweaty palms on the front of his hoodie, he walked into the living room.
Booker sat on the sofa, an empty cup of coffee cradled in his hands. His gaze was vacant, his slumped shoulders adding an aura of depression to his demeanor, and the image sent a shiver of panic down Tom’s spine. It was an expression he knew well, the dark-haired officer was deep in thought, lost in the complex labyrinth of his mind, and he briefly considered retiring back to the bedroom. But his need for comfort was too overwhelming, and seeking contact, he walked over to the sofa and sat down. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
Startled back to reality, Booker turned his head and stared at Tom, his gaze troubled. “Huh?”
The pained expression on his lover’s face did nothing to help ease Tom’s anxiety, and he shifted nervously in his seat. “Um, is something wrong?” he asked quietly, the hammering of his heart sending blood whooshing through his ears. “You seem kinda… distracted.”
“Do I?” Booker responded in a flat voice, his eyes not quite meeting Tom’s worried gaze. “I guess I have a few things on my mind.”
Unsettled by Booker’s evasive attitude, Tom wiped a shaky hand across his mouth. “Like?”
The hint of panic coloring Tom’s softly delivered question was not lost on Booker, and leaning back against the cushions, he exhaled a weary sigh. “Something you said is kinda bugging me.”
Taken aback by the comment, a look of uncertainty crept over Tom’s face. He did not remember having any deep and meaningful conversations with Dennis before or after their amorous play, but in all honesty, his memory was a little hazy. The carnal imprint on his body was still very much alive, the tingling of his flesh an erotic reminder of his lover’s intimate touch. But his cognitive memory was less detailed, and sitting forward, he focused on the dark-haired officer’s strained expression. “Sorry, but you’re going to have to narrow it down. What exactly did I say that’s got you acting so weird?”
The tightening of Booker’s jaw revealed the extent of his internal struggle. “You said you needed me,” he muttered by way of explanation.
Although somewhat confused by the statement, the rigidity in Tom’s body relaxed, and he breathed a palpable sigh of relief. “Jesus, Dennis, of course I do. But why has that upset you?”
For Booker, Tom’s heartfelt declaration did little to lighten his mood, and chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip, he attempted to voice his concerns. “Needing someone is different from wanting them, Tom. Do you need me or want me?”
Surprised by his lover’s level of insecurity, Tom tilted his head and flashed a beguiling smile. “Do you need me to show you how much I want you?” he teased softly, his eyelashes fluttering flirtatiously. “Because I could go another—”
“Jorge needed me too,” Booker replied absently, his lover’s seductive words barely registering in his mind. “But I didn’t do enough.”
Tom’s smile froze before transforming into an angry scowl, and crossing his arms defensively across his chest, he threw his lover a resentful look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
The hurt in the young officer’s voice penetrated through Booker’s thoughts, bringing him back to reality with a thump, and shaking his head, his glazed eyes regained focus. “Huh?”
This time, the monosyllabic interjection grated on Tom’s already frazzled nerves, and unable to disguise his jealousy, a trembling fury rose from within, releasing in a wave of angry rhetoric. “What more should you have done, Booker? Slept with him when he broke into your apartment? Oh, hey, here’s an idea, maybe we can have a threesome, and that way, you won’t have to feel guilty about not fucking him while you’re pretending to be in love with me!”
Booker blinked several times, his expression perplexed. “Huh?”
Unable to contain his chagrin any longer, Tom jumped to his feet, his mouth twisting in anger. “STOP SAYING THAT!” he screamed, all his hurt and disappointment bubbling forth in a torrent of frustration. “WHY DID YOU HAVE TO RUIN EVERYTHING? WHY?”
“Ruin?” Booker queried, two deep lines furrowing his brow. “Tom, I don’t understand. Why are you yelling at me?”
“Because I trusted you!” Tom cried, his dark, expressive eyes a kaleidoscope of raw emotion. “I trusted you to be my first, and now you’re talking about him! You’re always talking about HIM!”
When a glimmer of awareness slowly dawned, Booker’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What? No! Tommy, that’s not what I meant!”
“Isn’t it?” Tom shot back angrily. “Well, you know what, Booker? I think you’re lying. I think you miss fucking him, and you realize you made the wrong choice because what we have may never be that intimate. How’s that for an observation, huh?”
With his patience pushed to the limit, Booker finally unleashed his temper, and slamming his empty cup on the coffee table, he stood up, his eyes locked directly on his lover’s furious face. “When did you become so fucking paranoid?” he seethed through gritted teeth. “Jorge did need me. In case you’ve forgotten, he was stuck in a house with a sexual sadist. But when I said I hadn’t done enough, I meant Holland is still out there, preying on innocent teenagers when I should have stopped him. I should have fucking stopped him! And if we’re gonna start throwing around accusations, I don’t think you do want me. I think it’s all about need and one day you’re gonna realize that and walk out the fucking door. So how’s that for an observation you sniveling piece of shit! HUH?”
He emphasized the final word by jabbing his finger in Tom’s chest. A dark, oppressive silence followed, each man refusing to back down. They stood just inches apart, holding each other’s furious gaze, their faces a mirror image of snarling, contemptuous fury. With curled lips and chests puffed out in a wanton display of masculine supremacy, their primordial instincts had come to the fore, fueling their need to subjugate and thereby claim victory. Testosterone pumped through their blood, invigorating their bodies with a charge of macho power and strength, the hormone swelling their cocks in a show of animalistic dominance. They were primed and ready for a fight, the rigidity of their muscles rippling beneath their scant clothing. But in the battle of wills, it was Booker who broke rank first, and like a coiled spring, he lunged forward and grasping Tom’s face roughly in his hands, he slammed his mouth against the young officer’s lips, swallowing the mocking sneer with the forcefulness of his kiss. There was no affection in the libidinous display, just an overwhelming need to dominate, to stamp his mark as the alpha male. Once again, traces of Holland had infected his thoughts, opening the floodgates of his abuse. The result had his mind writhing in turmoil because it wasn’t just about the agony of his sexual mistreatment, there was a deeper, darker aspect to his mental anguish. Buried beneath his emotional suffering was the frightening knowledge that regardless of the pain inflicted upon his body, he had enjoyed sex with the older man. It was an awareness he endeavored to keep hidden in the darkest corner of his mind, but every now and then, his heart would fall out of rhythm, thumping erratically against his chest, and he’d break out in a cold sweat. There was a part of his personality that derived sexual pleasure from pain, and that made him just as twisted as his abuser.
Shocked by the unexpected contact, Tom instinctively lashed out, his open palms pushing against Booker’s chest. Garnet-red flashes flecked with white blurred his vision, the metallic tang of panic filling his mouth along with the unwanted savagery of Booker’s probing tongue. He was drowning in a sea of saliva, choking on the smoky flavor assaulting his taste buds, and in a moment of blind terror, he reacted by ramming his knee into Booker’s crotch.
The dark-haired officer crumpled to the floor with a loud groan, his hands protectively cupping his genitals. Tears spilled from his eyes, the sickening pain in his stomach sending a wave of nausea through his body, and rolling onto his side, he drew his legs up to his chest. “Oh God,” he moaned, the taste of vomit rising in his throat. “Why did you do that?”
A flicker of remorse passed over Tom’s face, but he refused to apologize, and standing over his friend’s contorted body, he spoke in a flat, affectless voice. “Because I’m not your whore.”
Using all his inner fortitude, Booker pushed himself up into a sitting position, his face a pale mask of pain. “What the... fuck are you... talking about?” he gasped, his chest rising and falling in shallow, labored bursts. “I thought... this was... what you... wanted.”
“Not like that,” Tom muttered, his arms wrapping protectively around his waist. “Jorge might like it rough, but I don’t, especially after what happ—”
The final word caught in his throat, the soft hiccuping sob bringing hot tears to his eyes, and turning away, he picked up his wallet from the coffee table. “I can’t do this,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’m sorry.”
Realizing he could lose Tom forever if he didn’t act fast, Booker ignored the searing pain in his testicles and scrambled to his feet. “No, baby, wait!” he implored. “Let’s sit down and talk—”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Tom interjected softly as he headed for the door.
“Tommy, wait!” Booker cried out, his voice rising in panic. “Tom, you’re not wearing any pants!”
But his desperate plea fell on deaf ears, and seconds later, the slam of a door echoed throughout the small apartment, and he found himself alone.
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Beneath a Heart of Darkness