EXCERPT: Fierce, by Harper Kingsley [mm contemporary]

Title: Fierce
Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: mm contemporary
Rating: teen+
AN: Mentions past non-con and Simon dealing with it.

Summary: There were moments in the stillness where Simon found himself afraid. He would close his eyes only to have to open them again, his every sense quivering alert, sure the Boogeyman was going to get him. Again.

FIERCE
By Harper Kingsley

There were moments in the stillness where Simon found himself afraid. He would close his eyes only to have to open them again, his every sense quivering alert, sure the Boogeyman was going to get him. Again.

He hated being so scared all the time. He hated that there were marks on him he couldn’t see. He hated that someone as sick and twisted as Damien Prince had left such a permanent scar on his mind.

There were some days when all he felt was hate: for the man that hurt him, the world that watched, and for his own weakness. It seemed there were some weeks when he had more bad days than good and no matter how hard he tried it was a battle even pretending to smile. His mind was a tangled mass of dark emotion.

And yet he went on. Day by day. Week by week. Month by month. Until he was looking at the two year anniversary of the day he’d been raped on national television. Because even though the sexual assault had happened off-screen, he’d been raped again in front of the camera by all the eyes watching him.

It hurt. To realize that millions of people had seen his humiliation. To know that some people had watched and laughed.

He’d vomited the first time he came across the horrifying GIF someone had made of his own terrified, pleading face. All the fear and sick had just rushed through him and for a minute he’d been certain he was there again, trapped on that bed, the somehow rancid stink of the mattress filling his nose.

It had taken lawyers and lawsuits to stop all the public videos, though he knew they were still out there, being traded in the darkness. He rarely went on the Internet anymore and his staff went over everything before he saw it. Not just letters, but movies and books and any kind of news report. There were just some things he wasn’t willing to face, not anymore, not when his mind was full of triggers ready to go off at any minute.

He had tried so hard to get passed what had been done to him, but finally he had to accept there were some things he couldn’t change. Damien Prince had raped and humiliated him and there was no going back in time to change it. The marks had been made, and even if they faded with time, they were still there.

But that didn’t mean Simon had to give up and let go. Because even after what had happened, he was still alive. He had survived the ordeal and he wasn’t going to let Prince win.

His life was his and his alone.

 

Being on location was one of those things Simon used to love but that now made his stomach churn nervously. He didn’t really like being out of his safety zone, but it was something he felt had to be done.

Looking over and being able to see Byron Hughes standing with the rest of the crew made him feel better. His bodyguard had a gun and was willing to use it. He was perfectly safe.

“All right, Simon, in this scene you and Colby are entering the Dragon’s Tomb,” the director, Paul Bleek, said. “Just like in practice, you bring the gun up and it’s just ‘bang-bang-bang.’ Colby, you get hit and fall down, knocking over the Orb. We all good?”

Colby nodded and Simon said, “We good.”

They were standing in front of the archway leading to the “Dragon’s Tomb,” a temple built by the set designers in the middle of the desert. It was already hot and Simon could feel the sweat trickling down his forehead and sticking his clothes to his skin.

Waiting for the cue, he flashed a smile at Colby. “So what’s it like being the male Lara Croft?”

Colby Jackson gave his world famous grin. He really was amazingly good looking, a tall African-American with a leanly muscled body and a perfectly trimmed beard. “I feel very pretty.”

They’d never worked together though they’d known each other for years. It had only been because Colby asked so nicely that Simon had even accepted the role of “Percy Walden,” assistant and sidekick to itinerant explorer “Nicholas Blaine.”

“Places!”

“Let’s Indiana Jones this bitch up,” Simon said, earning himself a laugh.

Dressed in black pants, a long-sleeved black shirt, and a flak vest jangling with all kinds of faux-weaponry, Simon already felt like he needed a break and they hadn’t really even started yet.

“All right… Action!” Bleek called.

Simon drew in a deep breath and hurtled forward and kicked the stone door down with a grunt. He had a gun in his hand and he didn’t hesitate to run forward into the tomb. His head moved back and forth alertly and it seemed natural to bring his gun up and start shooting.

An Asian-looking tomb all shining with gold and jade. Dangerous looking men in lots of brown and gray clothing toting machine guns as they worked at stripping the place bare of treasure. They dropped what they were doing when he started shooting them and brought their own weapons up.

There were screams and shouts and the plink-plink of misses near his head and feet as he jumped, rolled, and dodged until every one of them was dead.

He stood from his crouch and turned to Colby. “It’s clear, sir.”

Colby sauntered in, his lips forming a disappointed moue. “Really, Percy, did you have to come charging through like a bull in a china shop? Perhaps some of these gentlemen would have liked the chance to surrender before you shot them in the face?”

Simon holstered his gun with a shrug. “We’ll never know now, will we?”

Colby smiled and started to say something, then hesitated. His expression congealed, his brows coming together, and he raised his right hand to his left shoulder.

“Sir?” Simon took a step toward him.

Colby pulled his hand away and there was blood on his fingers. He half-turned and there was a giant, bleeding wound in his back. “I think I’ve been shot,” he said calmly, then his legs wobbled and he stumbled sideways before collapsing. His flailing arm knocked against the pedestal and the glass Orb trembled and fell with a crash against the floor.

There was a puff of glittery dust that obscured everything.

“Cut! Good job everybody.”

Simon let himself pant as he mopped at his forehead with his sleeve. “I feel half cooked.”

The “dead” men were rising from the floor and some of the set crew rushed forward to start vacuuming up the glitter dust before it could get everywhere.

Colby had sat up and was shaking dust from his hair with a grimace. “Gross. I think I got some in my mouth.”

“Good job, guys,” Bleek called again. “Simon, Colby, you take a short break while this gets cleaned up. Everyone else, you know what to do.”

Simon let himself be thumped on the back before retreating to the catering tent for some water and sliced fruit. His mouth felt dry and terrible.

He sat at one of the picnic-style tables and rested his burning forehead against the cooler aluminum. Even just this much shade felt better.

“You all right?”

Simon raised his head to give the guy standing over him a slight smile. “Five minutes of hard action in this heat and I feel done in.” He held out a hand. “Simon Peters.”

The man was tall with dark brown hair, a beard, and startling blue eyes. He played one of the bad guys from the clothes he wore, though Simon had never met him before. It made him feel guilty that he didn’t know the names of all his cast mates. He used to be better than this.

“Hey, nice to meet you.” The guy had a firm handshake. “I’m Adam Booth.”

Simon pushed his plate of fruit toward the guy. “Have some. We all need to make sure we don’t get dehydrated.”

Adam smiled and sat down across from him. “Thanks,” he said, taking an orange slice. His teeth were white against his dark caramel colored skin as he took a bite.

 

“Nicholas Blaine and the Dragon’s Tomb” was coming along nicely with no major setbacks and very few problems. It was one of those movies that almost seemed to film itself and Simon was having a good time playing Percy Walden.

It made him feel a bit relieved about the five-film contract he’d signed. He’d been half-worried he’d feel trapped by the obligation, but at this point he didn’t want filming to ever end. And it had nothing to do with the crush he was forming on Adam Booth. The fact that the guy seemed to reciprocate his feelings meant nothing either.

There was something nice about hanging out with Adam and talking about stupid stuff. Simon didn’t feel like he had to be on his guard all the time. Adam was just one of those people that seemed to take all of the stress out of a situation. He was just so laid-back and easygoing that it was soothing. The fact that he instinctively seemed to know not to do some things made Simon both relieved and a little embarrassed. Because everyone in the world knew what had happened to him, and that included Adam.

Old confident Simon Peters might have propositioned Adam. Flirted, then moved in for the kill. They would have fucked like animals, then Simon would have dumped the guy and moved on to sow his oats elsewhere.

New Simon was too scared to do anything but try and act casual. And in the process he had ended up getting to know Adam and he found that he really liked the guy for more than his great body. Which just made him feel more lost.

He sighed heavily and lifted the bottle to his mouth, taking a large slug of water. He was sitting cross-legged on a faux-scaffolding. It was only two feet off the ground, but had a mechanical arm that could lift it up fifteen feet. He was supposed to fight some guys on it later in the week, but right now it had been shoved to one side.

There was a clicking sound and Simon turned to see one of the new actor’s grinning at him as he lowered a small camera. “I’m sorry about that. I would have said something, but I didn’t want to ruin such a great shot,” the boy said. “The light was perfect for the moment.”

Simon just looked at the guy, taking in his blue-streaked brown hair and the blue coverall he wore. Simon couldn’t remember the guy’s name, but knew he was supposed to be the “next big thing.” A British teenaged heartthrob or something; a singing, dancing, acting triple-threat that was shaking all the trades.

“It’s all right,” Simon finally said when the kid started looking worried. “You should really ask before taking someone’s photo, but I don’t mind.”

The kid’s face lit up. “Great!” He stuck his camera in his pocket. “I’m Brent Coulson. It’s… I’m a big fan of your work.

Simon smiled and tried to be nice. He’d been enjoying his solitude. “Good to meet you. I heard you all were coming today.” A bunch of newbies to the set, all their filming was scheduled to last a week or less before they went back to the states.

“Yeah,” the guy said. “When the call came, they rounded us all up and jammed us on a plane.” He laughed. “They only paused long enough to do this to my hair. I hope it doesn’t look as lame as I think.”

“It does,” Simon said, then chuckled at Brent’s expression. He’d even started fondling his blue hair. “Stop it, I was just teasing. You’re fine.”

“Oh thanks!”

Simon had to wonder what it was like, being that young. He felt decades older than this kid, and experience wise he was. He’d seen so much that he felt ancient inside.

“Coulson, they’re calling for us!” a skinny girl with a lot of curly red hair yelled, running up on them. She was pretty even with the unfashionable glasses she wore, the large boxy frames very unflattering toward her small face. She was wearing a flirty blue and white plaid sexy-Dorothy dress and glossy red Mary Jane’s.

“Oh, well, I guess I’ve gotta go,” Brent said, sounding disappointed.

“Work comes first,” Simon agreed just for something to say. He honestly wasn’t in the mood to deal with puppyish enthusiasm.

“Right. Well, I’ll see you later.” Brent gave an awkward jerk of his head before jogging to where the girl still waited. There was nothing on her face, but the expression of her body was clear enough; she was interested in Brent.

Simon watched them go and sighed. When was the last time he’d let himself be as hopelessly infatuated with someone as that girl was with Brent? When was the last time he had felt safe in showing he had an interest in someone?

The answer was a depressing one. Because before his outing he’d been deeply closeted. He’d never felt perfectly safe in showing his feelings and had always kept himself on solid lockdown so there would be no hint of scandal to tarnish his career.

People were so much more open now than when he’d started out. There were kids proudly proclaiming that they were gay with a fearless kind of joy, sure that nothing would ever hurt them. When he was starting out–a gawky thirteen on a made for TV movie–he’d taken a look around and made the conscious decision to keep his sexual orientation on the down-low. He’d wanted to be in movies and make tons of money, and being openly gay would have made that very hard for him.

It seemed ironic that now, when he might finally have been ready in his life to come out to the world, the choice was already gone. And that actually hurt a lot. One more thing that Damien Prince had taken from him.

There was the scuff of footsteps on sand and he turned his head to see Colby approaching on his left.

“Hey, man, what you doin’ by yourself?” Colby asked, coming to lean against the control panel for the scaffold, a large green box with a bunch of switches and what looked like a joystick on top.

Simon shrugged. “Just being all broody and sad-faced.”

Colby stared off into the distance. He was dressed in jeans and a tee shirt with a pair of expensive sunglasses pushed up on top of his head. “Are you changing your mind about wanting to do this series?” he asked without even a hint of condemnation.

“What? No!” Simon shook his head. “I’m really having fun on this project. I just…” He glanced around and lowered his voice, “I was just realizing that I’m lonely.”

Colby gave him a surprised look. “I thought you were dating Adam?”

“What?” Simon’s cheeks flooded with heat. “Where did you get that idea from?”

Colby shrugged. “You always spend all your time with him. I thought it was a thing.”

Simon couldn’t help a flare of paranoia as he wondered how many other people thought he had a “thing” for Adam. That old insecurity rushed through him, that urge to find some girl to pretend to date so there would be no rumors. Then he remembered he didn’t have to hide his sexuality anymore. Everyone in the world already knew.

“I’m not dating Adam,” he said. “We’re just friends.”

“Yet you look at him like you want it to be something more.” Colby rubbed his chin. “I don’t know what to tell you. I honestly thought there was something going on between the two of you.”

“Yeah, there’s nothing.” Simon couldn’t help a twinge of regret. Adam was funny and smart and good-looking; it was Simon that was having all the trouble with thinking about being anything more than friends. “Besides, I don’t think he swings my way.”

Colby gave him a flat look. “Fishing for compliments now, are we?”

“What do you mean?”

“Please,” Colby shook his head, “I’m straight and even I think you’re really good-looking. And Adam? Well, he looks at you the same way I look at Ilsa Berman.” He whistled breathily, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“You’re terrible,” Simon laughed. Ilsa was an incredibly beautiful model with flawless skin and long locks of white-gold hair, so it was kind of flattering to be told that he could be on the same list as her.

Colby looked around, making sure no one was nearby, then gave Simon an intent look. “You should ask him out. I don’t think he’d say no.”

“He hasn’t made any indication that he has any interest in me as anything other than a friend,” Simon said.

“Yeah, but that’s because you’re you.” At Simon’s expression, Colby shrugged. “Come on, man, you had some serious shit go down in your life. You’re obviously not over it yet. And Adam doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that would make a move on someone that doesn’t seem to be interested. He’s waiting for you to make the first move.”

“And how do you know that? Have you talked to him?” Simon felt a nervous churn in his belly. The thought that there might have been some secret meeting where he was the subject of some big discussion was a bit disturbing.

“Naw,” Colby waved his hand, “I would never talk about you behind your back. But even though I don’t know him that well, I know enough about the guy to realize that he has a thing for you, a real and honest thing. He looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars.”

“That’s positively poetic.” Simon brushed the hair off his forehead. “You sure you don’t want to write that down or something?”

Colby made a face at him. “There are some times when I think you just can’t help being a complete and utter bastard. Have you thought about seeking help for that?”

Simon reached his hand down his side to pick up a handful of sand and flung it in Colby’s direction, watching as most of the grains blew away but some hit Colby’s pant leg. “If anyone here needs help for their personality flaws, it has to be you. Dick.”

Colby grinned. “You know it.” He stepped away from the control panel and raised his arms over his head, stretching mightily. The fabric of his tee shirt pulled tight, showing off his muscular chest and arms; he’d rightfully won Sexiest Man Alive last year. “You wanna get something to eat with me?”

Simon wasn’t really hungry, but he stood up with a shrug. “Why not.”

They walked side-by-side toward the catering tent and it felt nice to know that Colby really was a good friend. The kind of friend he’d never been able to appreciate back when he was a self-involved twat.

/EXCERPT