Chapter Nine: Crane’s Gate

Crane did not understand fully how the insanity had come over his vision so completely, so quickly. He had walked to his parent’s home, as he had been told to do, but earlier than he had been told to.

Seeing Aidan there he had been instantly enraged at the sight of his little brother, the anger, and hate toward the teenager broiling up within him until he was watching himself strike Aidan with the butt of the gun. He did not truly blame Aidan for having to kill their parents, he knew that now in his moments of lucidity, but it was hard for him to admit that he was doing anything so horrible willingly.

He had then turned toward his father, still screaming at him. Dominic Glorane had destroyed his life, and everything he had hoped to be.

His future had been so clear to him when he was younger, he was going to grow up and be a lawyer like Mister Gregory only better. He wanted to help people, wanted to put away the bad guys.

It was funny really, wanting to put away the bad guys and then later becoming one. If his case had gone to court, he would have been able to defend himself.

Instead, he had skipped out on the trial by some magic miracle that only his company could do and was living in a studio apartment in an old warehouse on the outskirts of town lying low and hoping for the insanity to pass.

He doubted it would, as he lay on the couch with a bottle of beer dangling from his fingertips. Popping the top off he took a long drink from it and did not even look up when the door opened, “Hi Gregory,” he said drolly.

“I hear from my son you showed up at his place this evening”, Gregory grabbed his own beer, removing his coat and hanging it up on the coat stand, dropping down into the recliner he put his feet up and winced.

“I wanted to see my baby brother,” Crane replied, not giving him a true answer or even looking at him as he picked up the remote and flipped through the channels. “Besides, no one noticed me,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders.

“Should you really be drinking with the medication you’re on from being shot in the gut?” He asked, keeping his tone lazy as he finally settled on some porn, scooching down on the couch he settled in to watch.

“Since when does my health matter to you Crane?” Gregory retorted dryly, not caring for the young man’s attitude. He had put up with the same attitude from Dominic for many years and thought once the other man was dead that he would not have to anymore. But of course, as his son had been elected caretaker of Aidan he had been chosen as such to be the caregiver for Crane.

He wished now he had agreed to take care of the younger Glorane brother.

“I’ll drink what I like to drink and when I want to drink it, I don’t want to hear another word from you on the matter, it’s bad enough that you left the apartment without my say so,” his voice was sharp and he regretted it the moment Crane’s face fell.

It was never his intention to hurt Crane, but the man was so unstable that it was rather hard at times for him to tell whether or not something he did would actually hurt him.

Crane stood up from the couch, putting his beer on the small coffee table he glanced at the television and gestured before tugging his shirt up over his head.

“Well…” He paused more for dramatic effect than anything else, enjoying a certain flair before he laid it on Gregory. “If you’re feeling good enough to drink than you are certainly feeling good enough to fuck,” he told him tugging his shirt over his head he dropped it on the floor before making his way up the winding staircase to the balcony bedroom.

Leaning against the railing he looked down at Gregory with a crooked smile, “Well are you going to join me or not?” He asked, unbuttoning the top button on his jeans and dropping the raggedy fabric to the ground. He was not wearing anything underneath.

Gregory groaned softly, thanking his own lack of sanity for agreeing to look after Crane. At least he got something out of it. He put his own bottle on the table and tugged his sweater over his head making his way up the stairs and toward Crane.

“Do you want to do this? Are you certain?” He asked him, stepping forward once again, hating that he, as the older one in this little “relationship” or situation as he preferred to call it was unsure about what was going on. He hissed softly when Crane stepped forward and stroked his neck, the scars which lay there marring his skin which was usually covered.

“I’m certain,” Crane took his mouth, tugging roughly at his bottom lip with his teeth, biting into it just enough to hurt and shoving the older man against the railing of the balcony before he dropped to his knees. “Does this look certain to you?” He asked him softly, unzipping Gregory’s pants and tugging them down.

“Yes,” Gregory’s voice was choked, his throat feeling constricted as though he was being strangled or something. He buried one hand in Crane’s hair but did not pull, running his fingers through the often-stringy locks.

He watched himself be exposed, and watched his hardness find a home in Crane’s wet hot mouth before he dropped his head back and let out a low groan.

Crane bobbed his head, his tongue sliding along Gregory’s length and his cheeks hollowing as he sucked harder his eyes falling closed. His world fell away and all of his problems disappeared as he worshiped the other man, able to forget everything he had done.

He pulled back after a little while, his lips glistening before he made his way to the bed not caring about his nudity as he lay across it, his bottom exposed. “C’mon old man,” he glanced over his shoulder, his dark eyes clouded with need.

Gregory knew he was supposed to feel bad about this, but the age gap was not such that it made him feel uncomfortable, and with everything Crane had been through and done, it did not surprise him that the young man often seemed older than he was. He made his way to the bed as well, feeling younger than he had in a long time seeing the darker haired man spread out before him like a fine dessert.

He knelt on the bed behind him, taking his time to rather roughly prepare him. He evoked every noise he would have ever thought possible from Crane.

Crane whined softly when his hair was tugged at, made a soft growling moan when he was bitten and when Gregory first slid into him he stopped making any noise, except for soft bursts of air which left him at the force of each thrust.

He gripped the sheets covering the mattress, rocking his hips backward with each thrust, the noises resuming as his partner began hitting that spot deep inside of him. It hurt, burned and felt amazingly good all at once, his insides twisting in a pleasurable manner as he allowed the older man to use his body punishingly for his cheek, his attitude and his disobedience.

“This is it,” he taunted then let out a soft noise almost like a short yell as he was taken harder his orgasm hitting him almost immediately. He was left slumped on the bed, moaning softly.

Gregory thrust into him three more times before letting out a choked moan, pulling out he flipped onto his side, panting roughly. His muscles twitched and moved as Crane began stroking his side and kissing him softly on the lips.

“Don’t act like this is a relationship Crane because it’s not, I’m looking after you and if you happen to suit my needs for the moment that is all that matters,” he told him softly, not liking the wounded look on the young assassin’s face as he lay there.

“Go shower, you’re filthy,” he closed his eyes for the moment.

Crane had a brief overwhelming urge to strangle Gregory right there. He wanted to wrap his arms around the older man’s throat and squeeze until the blood vessels in his eyes burst and his face turned purple due to lack of circulation.

“And don’t even think about it,” Gregory looked at Crane through half open eyes, knowing the younger man better than he knew himself. He, like his son had been witness to Crane’s rather unorthodox training and knew how many people, including his parents that Crane had killed in his past.

“I am the one person standing between you and jail Crane, do you truly want to mess with me?” He asked him, arching an eyebrow and smirking lightly. It was easy to play mind games with the dark haired man, and it only bothered him to hurt Crane half of the time he was with him.

Crane was an easy person to hate, he was annoying, childish and above all else spoiled and he acted it too. He wanted perfection, toys; only his version of a toy was a weapon that could be used in five different ways to severely hurt another person. He had many of them, knives, guns, daggers, anything a murderer could want.

Gregory of course knew he hadn’t always been this way, they had taken Crane and molded into him pieces of themselves and unfortunately they were the worst pieces anyone could ever hope to never get. He had his own father’s creativity, Jacob’s coldness in the face of death when it was not personal to him, Gregory’s nonchalance, and Doctor James’ calculating nature.

If he had known his friends would have done something this horrible he probably would have killed himself a long time ago.

“I should kill you then,” Crane said softly, before standing up, hobbling stiffly toward the bathroom slamming the door shut when he got there. Gregory and the rest of them were lucky that he had also inherited his younger brother’s pension of guilt after the deed was finished.

He would most likely never let go of the guilt over his parent’s death and Gregory did not want him to. It was the only thing that separated the other man from being himself, and completely becoming one of them. Although he was sadistic during his kills there were always moments after where Crane would spend time pouring over the victim’s possessions, learning about them, what made them happy what made them tick.

It was sick, the way Crane would obsess. These people weren’t good people either but Crane understood the loss of family in a way no one else ever would and he would send letters, no fingerprints, no permanently identifiable handwriting to the victim’s children, their parents, their brothers and sisters explaining their parents misdeeds and that he was sorry he had to be the one to end it but evidently if he hadn’t then someone else would.

God it made him want to kill Crane sometimes.

Guilt was disgusting, human…and it was something Gregory would never stop being envious of, it was something he hoped Crane would never let go of even if it killed him.

No one wanted to see someone so close to them become a monster, but at the very least Crane was a monster with a heart and he could live with his own guilt if Crane kept up that way.