Rough Canvas (Nature of Desire 6)

It hit then. Sometimes the pain in his lower abdomen grew to such proportions it compressed his chest, and then he couldn't breathe through the pain of it. Couldn't breathe. . .

I love you. . . Coward. . . Father was just an excuse. . .

Thomas dropped to one knee as if shoved. Holding onto his chest, he tried to suck in air that wasn't there. Perspiration, cold along his skin. God, don't do this he

re.

There was broken glass on the tile, one of the saucers that had been propelled off by Marcus' violent reaction. Despite the pain in his foot, it wasn't enough. Thomas grabbed one of the shards, gripped it hard enough it pierced his palm, competing with the pain in his gut, but it was too far gone. The cut of the glass was just a feather brush compared to the sick green fire there.

He managed to get to the edge of the patio before he threw up the breakfast he'd eaten. The labored wheezing was his own, mixed with a peculiar sobbing noise in his throat. He was choking on his own failure, his inability to get any of it right. Can't breathe. . .

"Hey. Hey!" The snapped command made him realize Marcus was there, kneeling with him, hand on the side of his jaw and throat, dragging his attention up to meet his stern gaze. "Thomas. Breathe. Slow, pet. Breathe. It's all right. I'm here. " That strong hand on the back of his neck, the other over his abdomen, steadying him, giving him back the rhythm of his heartbeat, slowing it down. "Ssshh, sshh. . . "

"I'm. . . sorry. Should just go. Not. . . fair to you - "

"Thomas. " Marcus' voice sharpened, silencing him. "Stop thinking about it. It's okay. " His grip tightened and Thomas brought his face back up again. Marcus' green eyes. So green. Peaceful, turbulent, beautiful. Everything was in that green. "It's going to be all right, okay? No matter what, it's going to be all right. We're just fighting, pet.

Couples do it all the time. Come here. "

Down to the cool tile of the patio, his shoulders hauled across Marcus' thighs as Marcus held him, legs stretched out while he stroked Thomas' hair, his other hand still on his belly. Marcus rocked him, murmured to him. Helped him breathe, breaking the clasp of the panic attack. Everything would be all right. He could hear Marcus' heartbeat beneath his ear, pressed against his firm abdomen. Steady, thudding through Thomas' body. He gripped Marcus' calf under one hand, an anchor.

"Oh, Jesus. " He closed his eyes. Mortified, as reason returned. He would have tried to sit up, reclaim a little dignity, but he wasn't sure he wouldn't pass out just yet.

"Guess I won that argument, didn't I?"

"Just as every swooning Victorian heroine does. " But despite the smartass comment, Marcus didn't smile or look remotely amused. He shifted his grip, tilting Thomas' head up, his thumb on his jugular so Thomas could feel his own pulse, as if Marcus had the right to decide if he lived or died, as if he were his slave in truth.

Perhaps he was. Perhaps he'd rather die at Marcus' hand, if it would save him from hurting Marcus or his family in any way anymore.

"How long has this been happening? And don't you even think of lying to me. " Thomas wasn't a good liar on his best day. Under the undeniably intimidating stare, he wasn't going to try today. Much. "I get them every once in a while. I usually know the signs, so you're the first person who's ever been treated to the pathetic sight of one. " The joke fell flat. He closed his eyes. "Marcus, I should go home. This was a mistake, you know it as well as I do. I'll paint what I can there. You're right, I want to get back to it, and there's no reason I can't - "

"I don't give a damn if you don't paint anything this week other than a paint-by-numbers rendition of a Cape Cod lighthouse. Hell, you can give me a crayon drawing of the Shoney's kids' menu. I don't give a fuck about the painting. Can you pull your head out of your ass long enough to get that one thing through your stubborn head?" Thomas swallowed. He was one of the few people who knew what Marcus was like when he was genuinely pissed off. Normally, he'd prefer to have some distance physically from it, because it came off him like an explosion from a volcano, but the anger in Marcus' eyes was only matched by the tenacity of his grip on Thomas' upper body, sprawled ignominiously over his knees.

"This is serious, pet. " Marcus increased the pressure of his hand on Thomas' stomach and Thomas couldn't help the wincing. "You're twenty-seven years old and you're having weekly panic attacks, and you have an ulcer. "

"Weekly? How did you - "

"Because I'm a lot smarter than you, and despite your inability to lie to me, you have a tendency to try to fudge the truth. " Marcus cupped his jaw. "Are you listening to me? You promised your Master a week, and that's what you're giving him. We've both said what we needed to say to get it off our chests for the time being. Let's leave that right there, okay?"

"I didn't mean it. " Thomas had to say it, make Marcus understand that one thing. "I just - "

"I'm the only person you can strike out at that you trust to handle it. " Marcus adjusted his grip, the hand on Thomas' throat now firm enough to be a collar, silencing him and riveting his attention. He kneaded against Thomas' vulnerable windpipe.

Despite the moment, it drew Thomas' attention to Marcus' mouth, which made some of his energy drain to his lap. From the flick of Marcus' eyes, Thomas knew he registered the reaction. He struggled to focus.

"Even so, I shouldn't have - "

"It's over now. " Marcus squeezed, silencing him. "Go get your swimsuit and a towel. I'm going to pack up a few things. Today, we're going to drive to Cape Cod and go to the beach. It's warm enough. Then, this evening, I intend to take you to a new place I've heard some good things about. "

At the sudden shift in Marcus' gaze, something else tightened in his raw lower belly, just as searing but a lot more pleasurable. "What kind of place?" Moving his hand off Thomas' stomach, Marcus captured his wrist, raising it to study the cut hand. Ignored the question. "If you want pain, Thomas, you'll ask your Master for it. Not cause it to yourself. You understand me?" He brought the palm to his lip, sucked the blood off, licked Thomas like an animal.

Thomas curled his fingers, touching Marcus' face, suddenly needing more of him.

But he stayed still, a hard quiver going through him at the stimulation of Marcus' mouth.

Shrewd green eyes shifted to Thomas, demanding an answer.

Thomas managed to nod.