He thought his first real case would be a battered teenager or a family too poor to keep the lights on. Instead, Terrance found himself at a halfway house, filled with men twice his size, carrying pasts his degree couldn't prepare him for. Bruised knuckles, thin patience, rap sheets longer than his thesis.
Declan was different. Late twenties, ink covering up his arms to his chest and back, always watching. He never raised his voice or joined the brawls in the yard. Terrance felt his eyes on him every time he visited as though every page of his notes were being read across the room.
'Terrance.' His name was spoken the first time they met, low, intimate, but a chill crawled up his spine. It had felt like he was trying him on for size and Terrance had the feeling it fit perfectly.
He wasn't alone today. Terrance arrived at the halfway house with a colleague, chatting and laughing before they stepped into the building and the energy changed. Many of the men were in the main room, some playing games, other's arguing. His colleague went his separate ways once he found the person he was there for and Terrance was left standing in the doorway, looking for Declan.
"Terrance." Every hair on his body stood on end at the way his name was said, a whisper against his neck. There may have been an inch difference in height, but his presence felt like he was looming over him.
Terrance swallowed, reminding himself quietly to keep his composure. "Declan." The weight of his name on his tongue felt like he had been chained from the first time he said it. After that, he tried hard to avoid saying it again unless absolutely necessary.
"My time here is nearly finished." It felt like a threat.
Terrance stepped to the side, turning to face Declan. His file had said 'assault', yet it didn't explain the scar over his left eye, the one near his neck that disappeared beneath his shirt. It didn't explain the rough exterior he had come to see even when he wasn't here. If this was all the system had recorded, something was missing. What are you hiding?
'You coming out tonight?'
Terrance glanced at his phone, shirt half on and hair still wet from his shower as he replied. 'Yeah, be there in 30.'
It had been three months since Declan was released from the halfway house and Terrance had become more comfortable going there. For reasons he was afraid to tell others, he had still kept tabs on the man. Declan had found himself a job at the local factory and was doing well.
After the first couple of weeks, Terrance eased up and let his life continue, happy he hadn't heard from or seen the man, even if he was haunting his mind every so often.
Terrance was five minutes out from where he was meeting his friends when Declan appeared, standing in front of his car on a side street. For a long while they had a stare down, unmoving, the only sound between them was the groan of the engine as it idled.
Then he smiled. Declan started casually to his side of the car, leering at him through the window with a smile sharp as knives. "Terrance, it's good to see you."
"A-and you. You look," He cleared his throat. "...like you're doing well."
The smile widened. "I am, but you knew that. I could use your help."
"Ah, I'm sorry, I'm on my—"
"I could use your help." Declan repeated, spoken softly. He could smell his cologne with how close he had come to the door, leaning over just enough to keep eye contact.
Terrance frowned, those words were spoken in a way that told him silently he didn't have a choice. Fear was there, sure, yet there was a fascination with this man he had kept refusing to acknowledge. It was a rare thing when someone could own the entire room—or street—with just their presence.
Reluctantly he nodded, unlocking the car and gestured for him to get in. Declan was all too happy to join him, giving him directions to a part of town that steadily changed to something rundown and abandoned.
Hot tears ran down his cheeks, the cold brick wall digging in his back and Delcan's warm hand wrapped around his throat. "Please don't cry." Declan cooed, tongue licking up a string of tears, body pressing against his. "Perhaps I should beg for forgiveness. Do I need to?"
Terrance shook his head slightly, chin lifted while his hands were cuffed around a steel pipe. Declan had brought him to the factory he was working at, to a room with machinery that Terrance couldn't place. His shirt had been cut with a dagger, bruising already forming from where Declan had punched him at every resistance.
"You should beg." Terrance retorted and Declan smiled.
Declan leaned in, dropping the dagger in his hand to the floor didn't rid him of threat, only changing it. Terrance was forced to turn, pressing against his torso against the wall. "You will first." Still his words were simply a whisper, hand stroking against Terrance's groin.
The next hour blurred; his clothing distorted, spit at his entrance, and for the first time in his life, someone was inside of him. Terrance winced and growled at the pain, lips pressed thin and tight to muffle the grunts. Declan's hands moved over his body, intimate and soft like a lover, confusing his mind with his body. For the first time in his life, he felt true anger mixed with confusion and uncertainty.
Time passed, exhaustion grew. Every touch was intimate, yet he felt like he was watching from someone else's eyes. Had it only been a couple hours? The clouded windows near the ceiling were still dark, not lending a hand to let him know how long it'd been. "Please," Terrance choked, throat dry, stomach and chest scratched from being pressed and fucked against the bricks. "No more."
Declan grinned, pinching at both of Terrance's nipples. "No more what?"
He shook his head; forehead pressed against the wall. "Stop. Please. Just stop."
Terrance heard Declan hum, thrusting faster until he could feel another wave fill him. Delcan's breathing was as heavy and ragged as his own, leaning against his back as if this was just a quickie between two consenting adults.
He wanted to ask why, what he had done to provoke this, but his mouth was too dry to want to speak. It felt like hours of just their breathing between them before Declan moved, reaching up with the key to release Terrance's arms. They dropped down, groaning at how much they ached while Declan made him turn to face him.
A flicker of hope came at the words, ready to go home and shower and away from this man. Ready to force his moment out of his mind. They both redressed, directions were given to drop Declan off at his home in the suburbs, then that hope vanished. The dagger was lifted casually, pointed at Terrance who was left in confusion and dread.
"Don't bother trying to leave." Declan started as he got out of the car, staring at Terrance as if daring him to make the wrong decision. Reluctantly, after what felt like an eternity of a minute, Terrance shut the ignition off and followed him inside. Confused, hazel eyes stared down at the freshly waxed wooden floors as the sound of the security turning on came.
"This isn't my home." He started, finally looking at Declan.
Declan simply smiled, pulling his hair tie out to let those long, brown locks fall over his shoulder. "It is now. Go clean yourself up, I'm tired."
