The Final Rule Read Free Page A

ache in his cock flared. The fire in his veins collided with the cold lines racing through his muscles. Then everything was gone. With each pulse of his cock the wave of mindless euphoria crashed into him. It felt like eternity and still wasn’t long enough.
    When it receded it left him boneless in Jon’s arms.
    “How do you feel?” Jon brushed his lips against the back of Ellis’s neck.
    How did he feel? Satisfied? Complete? No, neither of those.
    “Tell me.”
    Unlike the momentary rush of pleasure, what Jon had given him could only be forever “Loved. I feel loved.”
    Jon’s sigh warmed the back of Ellis’s neck.
    ********
    Even being cradled against Jon’s chest and inhaling his scent, couldn’t soothe the tension in Ellis’s mind. With as many times as Jon made Ellis come, leaving his body exhausted and aching, he should have been dead to the world.
    But his thoughts continued to churn up the things Jon said and Ellis’s disbelief became doubt, the doubt became what if, and then the what if, the possibility of something impossible.
    Why not? He’d held the proof in his hands in the form of Rudy’s drawings.
    Rudy knew Jon before they ever met him. And he was right, Rudy always won Go Fish.
    Something told Ellis he’d done it in the same way he’d known about where to find the quarters at the carnival, or the same way he knew how to find items in the house.
    And that one terrifying day when Lenny had taken Jon to the Grove to kill him. Rudy known where he’d gone.
    Rudy could find anything he wanted.
    Except the cookies.
    But that was because they were never there. Ellis quit buying large packs, so there was only enough for Rudy to eat a single serving.
    Then that same impossible ability had told Rudy Lenny was going to kill him.
    Ellis slipped out of the bed and put on a pair of sweats. If sleep was impossible, he decided he’d go downstairs, drink some coffee, maybe read the paper. He could even watch the news.
    For the last twenty years he’d followed his parent’s routine for protecting Rudy from the violence in the everyday world.
    Their mother used to say he was too sensitive.
    Maybe it was more than that. What if Rudy knew something no one else did and that’s why when he saw things on the TV it made him cry.
    Ellis stopped at the top of the stairs. He squeezed the railing until his knuckles turned white. A familiar worry pecked at him, the kind that drove him to check on Rudy even when he was asleep. He’d stand and watch Rudy’s chest rise and fall just to make sure, just to reassure himself Rudy was okay.
    There was no need to look in his room now but he couldn’t stop himself from going.
    Rudy’s name in bubble letters made a smile on the door. When Ellis was little their parents put the same bubble letters on his door because he’d liked Rudy’s so much. They came off when he was ten. But Rudy never outgrew anything.
    Ellis traced the letters.
    They’d been repainted several times over the years—blue, red, orange, green, never yellow. Sometimes Rudy would want spots, sometimes stripes. The most recent reincarnation had stitches around the edges, making them look like fabric.
    Ellis opened the door; the hinges squeaked. He’d never noticed that before.
    The laundry basket sat beside the suitcase. A pair of shoes lay next to the drafting table. There was an empty glass on the bedside table next to the lamp and the third shelf on the bookcase sagged.
    Then in front of the TV, there was a worn spot on hardwood floor.,
    Like the drawings, everything in Rudy’s room were left over pieces from another life.
    Rudy’s book bag of baseball cards sat on the floor at the end of the bed. Ellis collected the plastic containers from the top of the dresser, put them on the bed and opened the bag. There must have been thousands of cards.
    He picked one up. The edges had frayed and the picture had faded. Rudy had held these cards, looked at them every day, and treasured them. That alone made