One Good Deed Part 8

"Luka is just fine," Peter said, and Luka felt warmth on his back, like Peter was just about to touch him.

Dragomir handed him a card. Luka took it and closed the door. He watched out the side window to make sure the man left and then slumped back. He should have known the peace and quiet were too good to be true.

"They know where you live," Peter said.

Luka nodded. "They were also giving me a warning," he began in Serbian. "I still have family and a few friends in Serbia. They were telling me I better keep quiet about certain parts of my work in Serbia or they could make trouble for them." Luka's hand shook as he set the card on the table, not wanting to hold it any longer.

"Will they try to hurt you?" Peter asked, wrapping his arms around Luka's waist.

"I don't know," Luka answered, thankful Peter hadn't switched back to English. "I should have known something like this would happen. I was working on secret programs." He took a deep breath. "I hope they will leave me alone now that they have delivered their message."

"He came quite a ways to deliver a message. I think the nearest consulate is in Chicago," Peter said.

That didn't surprise Luka. Not that he was that important, but they had to let him know he was being watched. "They will lose interest in me after a few months. I would never betray their confidence, just like I would not betray secrets I learn in my work here." He tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. "If they wanted to hurt me or to do more than talk, they would not have announced themselves."

He felt Peter nod and tighten the hold around his waist. "I don't want you to be alone," Peter whispered into his ear.

The Serbian words in Peter's soft voice sent a ripple through him. "Then you stay. I cook," Luka said in English, but Peter shook his head. Luka's heart plummeted to the floor.

"I can't. I haven't been home yet and I need to take care of Milton. You can come with me, though."

Luka smiled and nodded. "Let me got some clothes and then I need to let Bella know I'm going to be gone. She just got home." He turned in time to see Peter smile. "She would be happy to see you." Peter nodded, and Luka slipped away and up the stairs to his small, spa.r.s.e sleeping area. He got his small bag and packed it with a change of clothes and the things he'd need to clean up and shave. The last thing he did was glance at the photographs of his parents and Misha, the only adornment in the room and nearly all he'd been able to bring from his former life.

Then Luka descended the stairs. Peter was waiting for him, and they left together, locked the door, and walked through the yard to the main house.

Bella was pleased to see them. She introduced them to her sister, Sima, and they talked for a few minutes. Luka told her he was going to be gone and saw the pleased little smile she gave him. He didn't tell her about Dragomir's visit, and they left before she got too tired out.

"How did Dragomir know where to find you?" Peter asked as they wove through traffic. "It's not as if you've advertised where you live."

"I have felt like I've been watched sometimes," Luka said. "I've seen people in the alley." It didn't mean they were watching him, though. At home, he'd often known someone was watching. He hated that feeling and had come here, in part, to try to escape it.

"I suppose there are ways of finding anyone if you want to badly enough," Peter said.

Luka nodded and looked out the window, checking to see if they were being followed. He knew that was probably a stupid notion, because if they were being followed, he probably wouldn't see them. But he still watched. He saw nothing, of course, but he couldn't help it. He also wondered if he should have told Bella everything, but he didn't want to worry her. Luka hoped that if he was away from her, she would be safer They arrived at Peter's and went inside. Milton pranced and rubbed around both their legs before running off toward the kitchen. Peter followed, and Luka went along with him. After feeding the cat, Peter began making dinner. Luka helped where he could, and they sat down to a dinner of pasta and salad. Luka had noticed that Americans tended to underseason their food for his taste. The food he'd grown up with was vibrantly spiced, sometimes hot, but always bursting with flavor. Not that what Peter had made wasn't good, but.... Luka figured he was probably getting a little homesick. Maybe next time he would cook. They talked as they ate, but once again, it felt more like a language exercise than a real conversation. It seemed like there was something else in the room with them. Luka was afraid it was the conversation about the psychologist, but it could just as easily be the people from the Serbian government watching him. Or maybe Peter was simply getting tired of him.

When they were done eating, Peter cleared the dishes. Luka offered to help, but Peter declined and went to clean up. "You can watch television if you want. This won't take long."

"Okay," Luka said. He stood up and stepped into the living room. He sat on the sofa, and Milton jumped up and walked back and forth on his lap a few times before jumping back to the floor. Luka didn't turn on the television. The shows were too loud, and he rarely found anything interesting. He waited for Peter to finish in the kitchen and then sit down next to him.

"Do you really think I need help?" Peter asked, pulling the card from his pocket.

"It not hurt," Luka said. He let himself hope a little more that Peter would contact Dr. Middlebach, but he didn't want to press.

"In my job I've referred many people to counseling. I suppose I should take my own advice," Peter said eventually and then turned toward him, smiling. Luka moved closer as the distance that had settled between them lifted like a fog. "I mean, you cared enough to speak with him."

"I did not ask to hurt you. I want to help," Luka said, much relieved.

Peter s.h.i.+fted closer as well. Their lips met, and Luka moaned softly. The kiss deepened, and Luka wrapped his arms around Peter's neck, tugging him down on top of him. Peter's shoes. .h.i.t the carpet with m.u.f.fled thumps, and Luka's quickly followed. s.h.i.+rts and pants joined the pile until Luka and Peter were pressed together, skin to skin. Luka quickly lost himself in taste and touch. Very few things in life could compare to one of Peter's kisses, let alone the way his skin felt against Luka's.

"Shall we go to the bedroom?" Peter whispered, slowly climbing off him and the sofa. Then he tugged Luka to his feet and held his hand as they walked to the bedroom.

Luka felt a little ridiculous as he walked into Peter's bedroom in nothing but his socks. But the thought slipped from his mind when Peter closed the door behind them, gathered Luka into his arms, and kissed him hard enough that Luka expected his knees to buckle.

"I should never have gotten angry with you," Peter said when he broke their kiss. "You were only thinking of me, and maybe your friend can help me feel better. I don't know if it's possible, but I'll try."

"Oh," Luka responded and smiled wide, wriggling his hips slightly, and Peter gasped quietly. Now that was the best kind of communication Luka could think of. Sometimes words were overrated. "No talk now," Luka whispered into Peter's ear before sucking on it lightly. Peter moaned again, and Luka sucked harder.

Within seconds Peter had Luka turned around and pressed back against the bed and then down onto the mattress. Peter chuckled, and Luka went right along with him. He was happy, and Peter sounded happy as well. Luka stretched and wrapped his lips around one of Peter's nipples, sucking slightly. Peter's chuckles s.h.i.+fted to a deep, throaty moan. "I love that sound," Luka said, licking Peter's skin and then blowing on it. Peter quivered, and Luka did it again. "You need touch," Luka told him.

"I need what?"

Rather than explain, Luka stretched like a cat, touching Peter in as many places as possible, running his hands over his chest and down his side. "To be touched," he said.

"I don't know what you mean. Maybe you should show me again."

Peter was playing, and Luka grinned up at him. Peter was very serious all the time. To hear him being playful was a surprise. Luka hadn't thought Peter could be like that. But he was now. Luka stroked him again, lightening his touch as he went down Peter's side. Peter squirmed and giggled like a girl when Luka tickled him.

"That wasn't nice."

"You laugh like girl," Luka teased.

Peter's expression calmed, his eyes widening. Then before Luka could react, Peter rolled them on the bed, pressing Luka into the mattress.

Luka laughed when Peter tickled him in return. He tried to get away, but Peter held him close. It took a few seconds for the sensation to die before he realized that Peter was no longer tickling him. Instead, he was licking and sucking his way along Luka's chest. "That nice," Luka whispered. "I think I keep you."

"You do, huh?" Peter challenged. "What if I want to keep you?"

"Then we keep each other," Luka countered. He wasn't sure exactly what they'd just said to each other, but it seemed momentous a few seconds after he said the words. Luka waited for Peter's reaction. There had to be one.

Their eyes met, and Peter opened his mouth. Luka slid an arm around Peter's neck, drew him close, and kissed him. Whatever Peter was about to say, Luka could wait to hear it. If Peter was going to argue or make excuses, now was not the time or place to hear it. When Peter moaned again, Luka knew he'd at least put off his inevitable arguments. That was fine for now. He didn't want to hear them right after what he'd just said.

Peter rubbed against him, slowly moving up and down, sliding their c.o.c.ks along each other. That was nice. No, way more than nice.

Luka s.h.i.+fted and tried to move. Peter lifted himself up and settled beside him. Luka rolled onto his belly and spread his legs wide, issuing Peter an invitation.

"You're beautiful," Peter whispered and kissed his shoulder.

Luka groaned softly as Peter slid up his back, slowly pressing his solid weight down on him. He'd always loved this position. With Misha, and now Peter, it made him feel safe, surrounded by someone he cared for. Peter licked and kissed his shoulder and then down his back. Luka arched his back slightly into the hot wetness, holding his breath to see what Peter would do. When Peter settled hot hands on his b.u.t.t, followed by his lips and tongue doing magic things to his skin, Luka stretched, pressing his hands to the headboard. "Peter," rumbled from deep in his throat. He held his breath as Peter kneaded his cheeks and licked his skin, coming closer and closer to his opening. Luka closed his eyes, praying for Peter to go farther.

He did. Luka whined softly, on the verge of begging. He ended up uttering a steady stream of endearments and mild curses in Serbian when Peter licked and probed him with his hot, wet tongue.

After r.i.m.m.i.n.g him to within an inch of his life, Peter pulled away. Luka was breathless and already well on his way to nirvana. He s.h.i.+vered with antic.i.p.ation as he heard the drawer next to the bed open, then the familiar sound of a condom wrapper being torn open and the squelch of a bottle.

"Is this okay?" Peter whispered.

Luka lifted his backside to let Peter know he was more than ready. Peter spread his legs wider, settled between them, and then pressed to Luka's opening. Luka held his breath and forced his muscles to relax. Peter was not small, by any stretch, and when he pushed forward, Luka groaned long and loud as Peter breached him.

Peter stopped just inside. Luka hissed his breath through his teeth, eyes rolling as the burn washed over him, morphing quickly to extreme pleasure. Peter must have sensed that exact moment, because he pressed forward, filling Luka to the brim. Luka gave up trying to talk and listened to Peter.

He arched his back, pressing his b.u.t.t upward, buried his face in one of the pillows, and rode the waves of ecstasy. Peter started slow and then began moving faster. He didn't go too fast, though, and within minutes Luka hung onto the edge, expecting to plunge over at any second. Peter had other ideas and held him there, teetering on the edge, before wrapping his arms around him.

"Come for me, sweetheart," Peter whispered into his ear, and Luka plummeted into his release.

Luka gasped and then stilled. Peter rested on top of him, holding him tight. Then, slowly, Luka s.h.i.+fted. He groaned softly as their bodies disconnected. Peter settled on the bed next to him, and Luka closed his eyes, letting the warmth wash over him. He heard and felt Peter move. He got up, and Luka watched Peter as he left the room and then returned a minute later. Peter smiled at him and climbed back into bed, hugging him tight.

"What changed your mind?" Luka asked. "About the psychology," he clarified. He figured he was using the term incorrectly, but he didn't know the correct one.

"You did. When I saw that Dragomir guy at your door, I realized...." Peter swallowed. "I realized I have feelings for you and I care about you."

Luka rolled over to face Peter. There was a lot in Peter's voice that he wasn't saying. Luka wished he knew what it was and how to read it. Instead, all he could do was listen carefully to Peter's words.

"If I felt that way about you, then I thought you might feel the same way about me and would want to help."

"I do want to help," Luka said.

Peter's expression s.h.i.+fted, his features harder. "I'm not convinced it will do any good. But since I've never tried, I don't know. I'm willing to give it a try, though." He sighed. "I'll call him in the morning and see what he says."

Luka smiled and nodded. Then he angled closer for a kiss. He wound his arms around Peter's neck and deepened the kiss, holding him close. "You help me, I help you," Luka said, and Peter nodded.

There were so many things he didn't know. Luka kept hoping some of Peter's walls were breaking down and he was opening himself up to being happy. But he wasn't sure. He didn't need to speak English to know that ideas held for a long time didn't change overnight. Peter had felt he wasn't worthy of love or even kindness for such a long time, and Luka knew it wouldn't change quickly. He needed to be patient. Finding someone to speak with who would help him and reinforce that what had happened when he was six did not make him a bad person and didn't mean he shouldn't be loved might go a long way to letting Peter find some happiness. Luka hoped that when Peter opened his heart, it was to him, because his own heart had already opened and allowed Peter inside.

"What are you thinking about?" Peter asked. "You look so serious."

Luka closed his eyes. He wondered if he should say anything, but figured telling Peter how he felt would only make Peter retreat to his usual arguments, so he kept quiet. "Nothing," he whispered. Peter turned out the lights, and Luka closed his eyes.

Pawing sounds at the door made Luka chuckle, and he got up and let Milton in the room. The cat scolded him as he walked across the room and jumped onto the bed. Luka joined Peter back in bed, closing his eyes. How long he lay listening to Peter's soft breathing and Milton's purrs, he didn't know.

Chapter 7.

PETER LEFT LEFT the office of Dr. Middlebach, still surprised the highly placed academic would work with him directly. It had taken Peter nearly a full day to actually make the call. He'd been pleased at how personable and easy Franz was to talk with. He'd almost immediately requested that they use first names as well as spent the first part of their time together asking questions that Peter was certain were designed to make him comfortable and get him to open up. the office of Dr. Middlebach, still surprised the highly placed academic would work with him directly. It had taken Peter nearly a full day to actually make the call. He'd been pleased at how personable and easy Franz was to talk with. He'd almost immediately requested that they use first names as well as spent the first part of their time together asking questions that Peter was certain were designed to make him comfortable and get him to open up.

Peter had been reluctant at first to tell Franz what had happened when he was a child, but eventually he realized he had to open up, so he told Franz the same story he'd told Luka. A few times he'd seen Franz show surprise, but he never detected any judgment. Once he'd finished telling Dr. Middlebach the story of his father's death, Peter continued. The floodgates seemed to have opened, and he explained how he'd always felt about his family.

"I'm puzzled," Franz began once Peter had finished. "Usually people feel guilty or ashamed of things but don't know why, or they hide it. And once the source of the guilt and shame is out in the open, it loses some of its power. Yours, however, has been reinforced over decades. There was never any way for you to escape it, and it became ingrained as part of who you are and part of your personality."

"Is there any way you can help?" Peter asked.

"I think so. I'd like to meet again if you're agreeable," Franz said.

Peter had nodded and s.h.i.+fted his gaze to the floor. "I need to know how much this is going to cost."

"Nothing," Franz said. "I'd only like your permission to use my findings in my research. I will not use your actual name to protect your privacy."

Peter had initially been reluctant, but if his situation could help someone else.... He had eventually agreed, and he and Franz set up a series of appointments for the coming weeks. He felt better. He didn't know why, other than talking to someone who hadn't judged him once he'd heard what Peter had done. He took a deep breath and released it, walking taller and feeling just a little bit lighter.

Over the next week, he saw Franz twice more. Their sessions focused somewhat on Peter shooting his father, but they also began to range further afield, with Peter talking in depth about his family and, of course, about Luka.

"You smile when you speak of him," Franz observed. "Did you know you do that each time?"

"Is that bad?" Peter asked seriously.

"Quite the opposite," Franz said. "But I'd like to explore why you would think it's bad... or could be bad." He reached for a notepad. "Why would someone making you happy be bad? You obviously care for him."

Peter sighed. "I killed one of the people in the world who loved me most. I guess I've never thought I deserved to have someone in my life like Luka." He paused for a few seconds. "Luka says I do a lot of the things I do because I'm trying to make up for what I did to my dad."

Franz nodded slowly. "You just smiled slightly as you mentioned his name."

"Oh," Peter said.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of those feelings. They're good and show you getting on with your life. What you did at six should not define you for the rest of your life. And it won't as long as you don't let it." Franz consulted his notes, and Peter waited. "I'd like to try a few things if we can."

Peter nodded and sat back in the chair. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'd like you to describe your brother to me. Tell me what he's like. What are his good personality traits and what about him annoys you?"

"Well, Vince is two years older than me, and he has twin girls. He's a great father and loves those two girls to death."

"What was he like growing up?" Franz asked, continuing to make notes.

"Like most of other kids, I guess," Peter answered, scratching the back of his neck.

"Did he pick on you or go out of his way to make you feel guilty?" Franz asked.

Peter thought for a few seconds. "Not really. My sister and mother were more vocal in that regard, I guess. Vince always seemed quiet. He's very smart, but has always been quiet."

"What sort of things did your mother and sister do?" Franz asked.

"My mother never said anything about shooting my father, but she always made me guilty whenever she wanted something. She still does, and I think Julie picked that up from her. I knew I didn't have a leg to stand on because it was my fault that Dad was gone, so I guess I always tried to do what they wanted so they would like me and possibly forgive me." Peter blew his breath from his lungs. "Of course, there was nothing I could ever do. And I suppose the more I tried to make up for what I'd done, the more they took advantage of it. I was always grateful to Vince that he never acted that way." Peter swallowed.

"You speak as though you think he's a good guy."

Peter shrugged. "I think he is, I guess. Are you trying to get at something?"

"Not necessarily. I was just curious how you saw the people you grew up with. What does your sister do well?"

"You mean besides guilt?" Peter quipped and chuckled softly. "Julie is a younger version of my mother."

"But Vince is different," Franz said. "Why do you think that is?"

Peter paused. "I never gave it much thought. Maybe because he's a guy."

Franz said nothing, and the silence began making Peter uncomfortable.