Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

Diego was laying on his good side on the double bed in the bedroom. Gavin didn't know the last time the sheets had been changed on the bed and he didn't particularly care. His eyes were held by Diego's, watching how expressive the young man was in showing how Gavin's cock was pleasuring him.

Gavin was being as careful as he could be. Diego had requested that they be able to maintain eye contact, so the young man was on his side, with his torso bent so that his head and shoulders were flat on the surface of the bed. Gavin had one of Diego's legs running up his torso and the other one was bent, with Diego leveraging off the floor with his toes. Gavin was slowly pumping the young man, being careful not to worry his bruises any more than necessary.

The moaning from the young Hispanic was very arousing to Gavin. He ejaculated much faster than he had wanted too. Then, while still inside Diego, he encased the young man's hard cock in with a fist and brought him to a spouting as well. All the time Diego maintained eye contact, telling Gavin how much he was enjoying this slow, sensual fuck.

"Tell me what you told the police about the robbery and assault, Diego. I'll write it up for the newspaper. But I need more information."

The two were entwined on the bed, Diego still sighing from the encounter. Gavin felt the young man stiffen when he asked that question.

"We haven't gone to the police yet," he said. "Germane says we need to have something to push them. That the police will just say we shouldn't be living in this neighborhood. Or . . . or that Germane did it. He said we need to have something in the newspaper."

"Them? Not the police. Ah . . . do you mean the insurance company?"

"Uh."

"Ah, I see."

"Diego." The voice was deep, commanding.

Both Gavin and Diego looked up. Diego was trembling again, and Gavin couldn't claim he wasn't.

Germane was standing in the doorway, scowling.

"I think you'd better leave, Mr. Reporter."

Gavin didn't wait for another invitation. He rose from the bed, gathered up his clothes, and brushed through the doorway past Germane. He quickly dressed in the living room, and stumbled out of the apartment and down the stairs. Not until he hit the bottom of the stairs did he gather enough wits about himself to worry about Diego. He climbed half way back up the stairs and called out. "I'll write it up. Just like Diego said it. It'll be in the paper. It's OK. It's not Diego's fault."

Then, knowing full well why Diego had those bruises, he ran out into the street and looked wildly about, not, at that instant, remembering where he'd left his car.

* * * *

Gavin was sitting at his desk, trying to decide what he could write up on the robbery and theft that would meet Germane's need but still get past the city editor. He was sweating, almost to the edge of tears. He had left Diego there to face the music alone. He felt like a worm, like the lowest of the low. He could have gone back, but he didn't. He had reasoned that the newspaper coverage was what Germane wanted, so that not going back but coming here instead was the right thing to do.

He'd gotten all the way back to The Sentinel's office before he realized what he'd seen leaning up against the wall in the bedroom. At the time, he'd been too excited about getting inside Diego that it hadn't registered. But now he realized that he'd seen a large flat-screen TV and a computer leaning up against the bedroom wall.

He was taken out of his misery on what to write fairly quickly—but only to be dropped into a larger misery.

"Is that the man who beat and sexually assaulted you—and then stole your TV set and computer?" The sound of the voice cut all the way across the city room from the door to the hallway. The hubbub in the room died immediately, and all faces, including Gavin's turned toward the doorway.

Gavin had difficulty focusing, but the softly spoken, "Yes, sir," galvanized his attention. He knew the voice.

The policemen in the doorway was pointing at Gavin. Standing next to him, his face even more battered than the last time Gavin had seen him, stood Diego. He was crying.

Gavin pushed the delete button on his computer. Was it all in the plan even for Diego to get him into the bedroom and the bed, Gavin wondered. For some reason, he felt more hurt that that might be the case than that he'd been played to support the theft and beating story.

Germane was going to get a bigger story published now than Gavin had been writing, he knew. But it wouldn't be Gavin who wrote the story.