JAWS (Complete)

Chapter 4

The blowjob in the sauna had been stupid. Galliard knows this, and can admit it to himself. It had been fucking stupid, stupid and dangerous, and he could have gotten himself fired from his one real job over it. It was the stupid stunt of a self-destructive kid, and Galliard isn’t that kid anymore. He’s better than that. He has to be better than that.

Thank god Braun was into it.

He hadn’t given a bad blowjob either.

Galliard shakes his head, sending water droplets flying everywhere, and grabs his bottle of shampoo. Now isn’t the time to start remembering the warmth of Reiner Braun’s mouth, or how willing he’d been to crawl across the floor and position himself between Galliard’s legs. It had been a one-time thing. It happened, it’s over, it’s never happening again.

Rich pricks like Braun don’t slum with people with Galliard.

Not unless they want something, and Galliard isn’t going to whore himself out to whatever it is Reiner Braun is sniffing after.

The hot water starts to die away, and Galliard rinses off the rest of the way and turns off the shower before it can blast him with frigid water. He towels himself dry, frowning at the bruises peppering his chest. He needs to be more careful with the clamps; they’re always a big hit with the perverts, but if anyone at the gym saw these, it’d lead to questions Galliard doesn’t want to answer.

He wishes he didn’t bruise so easily.

Galliard throws on his threadbare robe and pads back into the living room area. Sarge watches from his position on the dog bed as Galliard gets dressed—khaki pants today, long-sleeved undershirt and then his black polo over the top, green apron and visor stuffed into his backpack to put on when he’s at work. Once he’s dressed, Galliard shrugs into his worn leather jacket that’s too big in the shoulders, originally purchased for someone bigger and heavier than himself, and squats next to Sarge’s dog bed. He reaches on top of the cardboard box that serves as an end table and takes down Sarge’s leash.

“You ready to go pee? You ready?”

Sarge hauls himself onto his front legs, and then sits there for a moment, panting. Galliard watches him, his jaw clenching, his brow drawn down. Sometimes Sarge has weakness in his back half, and can’t get up on his own. Those days used to be few and far between, but they’ve been coming more and more often; the last few times it’s happened, Galliard had had to hoist Sarge’s back half up himself, and then hold him up when they went outside so the dog could relieve himself.

It takes the dog a few moments, but he stands up under his own power today, and Galliard relaxes. Giving him his aspirin first is helping. That’s what he’ll have to keep doing: give the dog his medicine and then give it time to work. If the aspirin is working, Sarge can still stand up and move around on his own.

It’ll be fine.

“Okay, let’s go.” Galliard clips the leash to Sarge’s collar, and the dog pads heavily beside him as they leave the apartment and go out to the elevator. Galliard has to pay more for an apartment with an elevator, but he can’t expect Sarge to walk up and down stairs everyday, and pee pads inside the house are both disgusting and too expensive.

Sarge moves slowly and ponderously down the street, sniffing at all the trees along the way with interest, and Galliard trails after him, letting the dog do his thing. He tries very hard not to notice how Sarge can’t lift his leg to pee anymore and instead crouches like a girl dog, or how he dribbles urine even after he’s done doing his business. He’ll google this when he gets home; maybe Sarge just needs more aspirin, or something else with his daily cheese.