Attention:This is the epilogue. If you missed chapter ten, go back.


Epilogue

Caleb Duarte had made a few mistakes in his life.

The most recent one—turning left on Harbor when he should have turned right—had him trundling down a bumpy, dirt road in his completely-falling-apart 1993 Honda Civic.

To be fair, he had never driven in this town. He and John had always taken the train in from the city, and then the bus to the school. Or sometimes they walked, when John was feeling generous.

But now Caleb lived in the town—which brings up, coincidentally, a few more of his mistakes. For instance, quitting a fairly good teaching job at twenty-nine to go live on an artist retreat slash commune type deal, turned out to be one hell of a misstep.

When running full speed and blindly from a career and possibly life ruining disaster, one should not join a pyramid-scheme of an artist retreat.

Because, now, Caleb was thirty-three. And he couldn't find a job anywhere in this shitter of an economy. And he finally cracked, and called the in he had at that high school. Where he learned he had a few friends left, and the old woman who had replaced him had actually come out of retirement to do so, and was more than willing to go back to her gardening and teacup collecting.

So, at least Caleb had a job again. Sure, it was the same job that he had left behind, but it had health benefits, and his retirement was still sitting pretty, ready to be added to after four years of neglect. He wasn't broken up about leaving the city, he had always liked the hot, dusty feel of the town, and the rent was certainly appealing. So, fine. He was back to being an art teacher.

That is, if Caleb could find his way back to civilization. He was just about to give up on that hope, when he suddenly heard a police siren, and jumped. Looking in his rearview mirror, he saw, indeed, a cruiser coming up behind him. He came to a stop. He watched the cruiser stop, and the door swing open. A man got out.

Rolling down his window, Caleb grabbed his wallet just in case. He heard the crunching of gravel, and looked up. In front of him was six feet plus of thick muscle, clothed in a dark policeman's outfit. Aviators reflected Caleb's image back at him, but he was more concerned with the man's square jaw, and lips settled in a frown.

There was nothing teenager about him.

"You're on private property, you know," the man said.

Caleb exhaled. "Sev, you look like a stripper."

"Get out."

Gaze jerking up, Caleb almost, almost, gaped. This tone, this cold, unaffected tone. It was so unlike Sev, that Caleb had to wonder if he had been wrong in his assumption.

There was a thud on the top of his car, and he flinched. "Step out of the vehicle."

"Yeah," Caleb breathed, clicking his door open and unlatching his seatbelt. He stepped out of the car, straightening up. He couldn't take his eyes off Sev. The crisp lines of the uniform were complimenting broad shoulders quite well. The badge...the gun...Caleb had to tear his gaze away, and he looked to the ground. "So, you're a cop," he said faintly.

Sev didn't react. He nodded towards the back of the car. "Hands on the trunk."

Caleb had to eye him for a split second, curious where this was going. And that split second apparently set Sev off. He grabbed Caleb by the upper arm, and shoved him towards the trunk. Stumbling, Caleb caught himself on the side of the car, and then looked over his shoulder, eyebrows raised, nerves starting to tingle with apprehension.

But he couldn't see anything behind those sunglasses. So, he nodded, and tentatively stepped to the back of the car, and placed his hands on the trunk. Sev kept watching him.

"This cannot be regulation," Caleb said slowly.

Still no reaction. Caleb wondered if he should be worried.

Then Sev came around behind him, his presence just there for a moment, making Caleb's back itch. Caleb flinched when he felt a hands rest on his waist. Fingers curled around, digging into him, and then slid up, dragging his shirt up with them. He exhaled a shuddering breath, but managed not to say anything until the rough pads of Sev's fingers ran over his nipples, and then Caleb jumped backwards, knocking into Sev.

"Hold it," he breathed, "What the hell is this?"

"Routine pat down." Sev's voice was thicker than Caleb remembered.

"Like hell," Caleb said, trying to twist around, but Sev was holding him steady. He shoved Caleb forwards against the car, and Caleb braced himself on his palms with a string of curses.

"This will get you fired, Sev!"

He heard a low chuckle. Which was when embarassment hit him, because...yes, that was probably the most hypocritical, idiotic thing he had ever said in his life.

And then Sev's hands were on him again, fingers kneading into his skin. He barely got a gasp out when Sev crushed forward, weighing Caleb down against the trunk of the car. He kept breathing against Caleb's neck. Caleb tried to push them back up, his arms straining, and then he felt a leg kick his thighs apart, and he grunted.

"Sev...Sev, what are you doing?"

Teeth grazed the side of his throat. A hand slipped to his fly, unhooking the button. He grabbed at Sev's wrist, trying to pull the hand away from his crotch as he breathed nervously.

He didn't want Sev to know how hard he was.

Because he was cornered against a car by a cop, in the middle of nowhere, and god it was making him hot. And he had the feeling that's exactly what Sev was going for. Caleb kept squirming, his ass brushing back, and he definitely felt how hard Sev was—and shit, this could not be happening. "Come on, Sev, say something, this is...please—"

He felt his belt slide out its loops. His pants fell to his ankles.

The first lick was so sharp, bit in so hard, that Caleb might as well have not been wearing underwear. His eyes widened, ass throbbing. He stared down at the rusted paint of his car, breathing slowly and shaking. "You're scaring me," he said quietly.

"You don't like it?"

Caleb bit his lip, dropping his head. Drawing in a long, steadying breath, he slid out over the car, angling his ass up.

And then Sev gave him a fucking beating. Caleb's underwear was in shreds by the end of it, tears streaming down his face. He kept scrabbling forward on the trunk, as if he thought he could just climb up and away. But it was that high he loved, so, so much. His brain fogging out, heat and pain scorching up his body.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, face a disgusting mess of snot and tears. All it got him was another stroke, just as hard as the very first one. He flinched, crying out, and buried his head in his arms. "Ow..." he moaned, face scrunching, "please, Sev, I'm sorry..."

He heard the belt fall on the ground, and trembled. He made to stand up, when a hand square on his back shoved him back down. He heard the zip of Sev's fly.

Without thinking, he obediently spread his legs.

There was pause, and then he heard Sev exhale wearily. And then he heard Sev spit. Slick fingers shoved into Caleb without preamble, and he jerked forward with a gasp. This was...certainly different than the fuck they had four years ago.

Sev scissored his fingers wide, and Caleb bit his lip to stifle a moan. The fingers left. A final slap landed on his hurting ass, forcing a high whine out of Caleb. He heard the tearing of a condom wrapper, and an errant thought that Sev must have figured out how to use them crossed his mind.

He felt the tip of Sev's cock rub against him, and then shove in forcefully. Hands clasped his waist.

His feet were nearly off the ground with the way Sev fucked him, hard and fast and with absolutely no care as to how Caleb was feeling. Which, coincidentally, was pretty much how Caleb just fucking loved it. He had nothing to grip onto, sliding up and down on the trunk, and there was just no way of maintaining any dignity. He sank his teeth into his arm, clawing his hair with his other hand as Sev used him.

What Caleb was feeling—was the hurt, scarred feelings of an abandoned teenager. Every rough thrust into him, the pain and humiliation that Sev was making him feel, he was getting the message. He had fucked up.

Breathing raggedly, he turned his head, and saw through the corner of his eye that Sev was bent over close to him. He was still hidden by the sunglasses, but when Caleb looked, his expression tightened, like he had been watching Caleb's every move.

And then, Sev leaned down and gently kissed Caleb's cheek. As if Caleb was something precious to him.

Caleb's eyebrows pinched together with confusion, but then Sev tensed up, letting out a grunt as he came. He had very pointedly not gotten Caleb off, sliding out without a word.

"Well," Caleb said weakly, swallowing. He pushed himself up, but then heard rustling and realized Sev had knelt down to grab his pants.

"Here," Sev said gruffly, and Caleb turned to take them from him.

Very stiffly, wincing at the pain, Caleb pulled his pants back on, and did the fly. He sniffed, wiping at his face. "Ok," he said, trying to sound light, "I'm—sorry, I've always been sorry." With that, he turned to go back to his car when a hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Where are you going?"

And, honest to god, that was the first time Caleb finally recognized the Sev he knew. Heard the vulnerability in his voice. He glanced around, eyebrows raised. "Where? The school." He frowned. "I thought, well, you got what you wanted, right?"

The hand on his wrist tightened. "Why would that be what I want?" Sev jerked Caleb forward a little, and Caleb stumbled, but Sev caught him around the waist.

"Can you take those off?" Caleb said suddenly, looking up at the sunglasses. Sev was silent for a second, and then reached up and slid the Aviators off, his eyes coming into view. They were a lot more serious than Caleb remembered. "A cop, huh?" he said with a wry smile. "They know about the pot, Sev?"

"Will you go on a date with me?"

Drawing up short, Caleb stared at him with wide eyes. "Wait...Sev—"

"I know you've moved into town. I avoided you because I knew I would..." Trailing off, Sev looked away for a moment, but then he was back, his eyes focused intently on Caleb. "Anyway, yeah I'm a cop. You know, I'm renting that old farmhouse the kids used to throw parties in? I fixed it up, and there's a—like a room—out in the backyard, well it could be a studio, like an art room, or whatever you call it."

His eyes widened. "Not that I'm asking you to move in with me, or anything, but maybe, you know...if things work out. There aren't any neighbors either, so people can't really hear any—" His lips cracked into a sheepish grin, "—screams, or crying, or whatever."

"Screams?" Caleb said despite himself, quirking an eyebrow. Sev exhaled through his nose with amusement, licking his lips.

Caleb's humor ebbed. "Sev, I've done so many shitty things to you."

"We did shitty things to each other."

Shaking his head, Caleb started to back away. He swallowed when Sev pushed him back against the car, caging him in with one arm resting on the hood. "I'm not gonna ask why you ran," Sev said, his voice low, "Because, I had a lot of time to think about it. And, yeah, you had this unstable kid trying to get into your pants, and doing dumb shit that could have gotten you into a lot of trouble."

"But I still shouldn't have—" Caleb began. Sev cut him off with a quick peck.

"Simmons told me you and he never really talk anymore."

Caleb looked down at the ground. More like, he obsessively called John from the artist retreat, over and over and over until John finally flew out to come and tell Caleb that their co-dependant bullshit of a 'relationship' was over, and it was time that Caleb manned up and started hating John for allowing Caleb to cling on to him for ten years. Not like Caleb could ever hate him, but still...

He got the message.

"Yeah," he said vaguely. "It will be a little weird working with him again."

"Are you over him?"

Caleb nodded.

"I'm over Finch."

"But, Sev," Caleb said, and he knew his protesting was starting to sound a little weak. "It's been four years." He closed his eyes. Nothing like stating the obvious.

He felt another gentle kiss, this time on his forehead. "The thing is, Mr. Duarte, I haven't met anyone this whole time who could ever really make me forget you." A finger at his chin forced him to look up, and his eyes met Sev's. "Did you forget me?"

Caleb rubbed his cheek, feeling tired. "There's no way I could."

Catching his eye again, Sev gave him a teasing little smile. "You don't want to date a cop?"

"Shut up," Caleb muttered, averting his eyes to the ground, cheeks heating. "That's just not fair."

Sev laughed. "I know it's not. You know, this was Simmons' idea? When he heard I hadn't even applied for community college, he told me I should just go to the police academy. The first thing I thought when he said that was 'Mr. Duarte would fucking lose it if he was spanked by a cop'."

"I would lose it," Caleb confirmed darkly, eyeing Sev's uniform. "I did."

"You liked it, huh?" Sev grinned. "Then how about being a cop's boyfriend? I could bring this uniform home every night, and a pair of standard-issue handcuffs."

He was touching Caleb like he already owned him, like he had already won his case. He was rubbing his hand calmingly against Caleb's chest, sliding his palm up to cup Caleb's neck.

Caleb was almost a little sad. He knew this was still Sev, but this was adult Sev. This wasn't the Sev Caleb had so much fun twisting around his finger—not even taking a moment to question when he had gotten just as caught up in the whole thing as Sev was. And how much of an asshole Caleb had been.

Maybe...maybe it was time to give the kid a break.

"You think you'll be able to forgive me for just ditching you like that?"

Sev's expression relaxed a little. He grinned. "Knowing I'm going to beat your ass on a daily basis helps."

"On a daily basis, huh?" Caleb snorted. The warmth in Sev's tone eased Caleb's tense body. Slumping, he rested his face against the slope of Sev's neck. He felt strong arms wrap around him.

"Yeah," Sev murmured, ruffling his nose in Caleb's hair. "You won't dare leave me again. Not when I'm through with you." He slipped his hand under the waist of Caleb's pants, kneading the painful, hot flesh of Caleb's ass. Caleb sighed in appreciation, grinding back into Sev's grip.

"This farmhouse of yours, there's really not any neighbors?"

"Clear for miles."

He could see it. He could see visiting Sev at his farmhouse, and them getting to know each other and cooking dinners and watching movies and fucking. Also, spanking. Caleb really wanted to know how Sev would handle a switch, or maybe a lexan paddle. And all that deep down heartache that Sev was feeling, Caleb could soothe that away.

He wasn't scared anymore. Sev wasn't his student, and John was no longer his reason for existence. He was definitely ready to be with someone who wanted him. He craved it.

"Mr. Duarte?" Sev was watching him closely now, still holding him tightly.

Caleb nodded. "Ok, Sev. Let's date."

He heard Sev exhale. "Do you really want to?"

"Yes."

Sev's hold tightened. "Yes, what?"

Caleb rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, and then cast his eyes down with meek deference. "Yes, sir."