Moments Of Peace

Summary: Follows Cursed Land. It’s been a long time since Martin felt at peace. But now he has two subs to care for. Unfortunately, the curse isn’t done with them yet
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for the movie The Locals; some violence; AU
Pairing: Martin/Grant/Paul
Secondary pairing: Walter Crow Horse/Ray Levoi
Author’s Note: Final fic in the buildup ‘verse to the Thunderheart/The Locals crossover. Previous fics are Cursed Land (The Locals), A Bad Day and Anticipation (Thunderheart)

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It was two am.

Martin lay in bed, his arm wrapped around Paul’s body. The kid was asleep, snoring softly, drooling on Martin’s shoulder. Blond strands of hair tickled Martin’s nose, making him have to stifle a sneeze.

He didn’t want to wake his young lover. And besides, being able to sneeze was still something of a novel experience. As was feeling hungry and thirsty. Hell, just feeling the warmth of another living body curled up next to him was new; and something he’d never experienced in life the first time he’d had a heartbeat.

But it was two am and only two of them were in the bed. Grant hadn’t joined them yet. And the land they no longer lived on was cursed, so Martin didn’t need to worry about his two younger lovers being in danger.

Instead, he worried about other things. Like feeding them. Making sure both could see their families. He’d been alone for a long time; dragged into a more modern time, he wasn’t as comfortable with computers and phones as both Paul and Grant were, though he’d reluctantly accepted one so they could both call him when they did meet up with family and friends.

He wasn’t going to sleep without both of his partners with him. And that was strange to think about. At one time, he wouldn’t have been able to sleep unless he was alone. Now, he had to have them both with him. Even if it wasn’t physically comfortable (somehow, Paul always ended up on his chest and Grant wrapped around him), emotionally, it was so much better.

Brushing a kiss over Paul’s hair, Martin carefully disentangled himself from the younger man.

Paul grumbled, rolled over in his sleep and clutched at a pillow.

Running his fingers through the blond strands, Martin whispered, “I love you,” and watched an unconscious smile spread across the younger man’s face before he cuddled back down with the pillow.

Martin headed to the door of the room and slipped outside, walking into the main room.

Grant was sitting at the desk, hunched over with his entire focus on the computer screen open in front of him. His dark hair was messed up and as Martin watched, he raised his hand to rake it through the strands again, making them stand up even more.

Martin walked up behind his second lover and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Grant’s shoulders.

The younger man let out a high-pitched squeal and then turned, hiding his red face against Martin’s chest. “You scared me.” The words were slightly muffled as he pressed a kiss against Martin’s skin.

“What are you doing?” Martin pulled Grant out of the seat and took his spot, bringing his lover down onto his lap. His hands began to firmly rub over Grant’s back and down over his bottom and legs.

Grant groaned and arched into the touch, dropping his head onto Martin’s shoulder. “That feels so good. I never realise how tense I am until you’re there rubbing it all away. How did I ever get through life without you?”

Martin slid his hands up under Grant’s shirt, gently squeezing and rubbing the tense muscles of the younger man’s back. His eyes shifted to the computer screen and he frowned, leaning forward to read the contents of the screen.

It was a newspaper article. The heading read The Dead Walk. Further reading of the article indicated more than a few people had seen friends and family members up and walking around when they’d died not that long before.

“Grant.” Martin would have been proud of how steady his voice sounded, if he didn’t feel so shaken up.

Grant raised his head, looking into Martin’s eyes. “What is it?”

“Explain.” Martin pointed to the screen.

Grant’s eyes slanted towards the computer and his face went white, then his cheeks blushed red. He hid his face against Martin’s shoulder. “I was curious about whether anywhere else has gone through similar problems to us?”

If the hiding his face hadn’t clued Martin in to the fact Grant was hiding something, the questioning note in his voice would have made that very clear. Martin delivered a firm smack to the younger man’s backside. “Look at me.”

Grant raised his head and gave him a pouting, woebegone look. “I don’t want to tell you anything.”

Martin raised his eyebrows at the outright defiance and stood up from the chair, lifting Grant into his arms. Ignoring the slightly strangled yelp from the younger man, he stepped over to the couch and sat down, depositing his younger lover across his lap and quickly divesting him of both his pants and his underwear.

The first crack of bare hand on bare skin sounded loud and Grant jumped, immediately throwing his hands back over his bottom. “This isn’t fair!”

“What isn’t fair?” Martin demanded, delivering firm smacks all over Grant’s bottom, working over every inch down to his thighs and then beginning over from the top. “This isn’t the first time you’ve lied to me, kid. If anything, I should be the one telling you it’s not fair.”

“You never pushed me to explain!”

Martin paused, resting his hand on Grant’s lower back. “You’re right. I didn’t. I asked you if it was dangerous. You told me it was. Maybe that’s on me for not pushing for a better explanation, but if you’ve put other people at risk to save us….” He resumed spanking, the swats harder than any he’d given Grant before.

“What happened?”

Martin paused, his hand half-raised to deliver another hard smack to the rapidly reddening backside over his lap. He looked towards the doorway, where Paul stood, rubbing his eyes and watching them, yawning widely.

Martin’s palm was beginning to sting and he paused to shake it out, even as he answered Paul. “Take a look at the computer screen.”

While his other lover went to do that, Martin delivered several more hard smacks, making Grant whine and buck in place. He paused when his lover’s bottom was bright red and began to unbuckle his belt.

Grant began to sob at the sound. “I’m sorry…! I just couldn’t stand by and watch you both die every night…!”

Paul swallowed visibly and walked over to the couch. He sat down next to Martin, moving Grant’s legs to do so, and whispered, “You told me you were going to destroy it. You didn’t? You put it somewhere else instead?”

“Destroy what?” Martin doubled the belt in his hand; let it rest against the fullest part of Grant’s bottom.

Paul swallowed, his eyes darting from Martin’s face to Grant’s bottom and back again. In a small voice, he whispered, “Grant did a lot of research while we were…you know. He found a statue. Like one of those antiques from an Indiana Jones movie or something like that. Figured it was responsible for everything going on.”

“I tried to destroy it.” Grant picked up the explanation, his voice hitching. He desperately grasped at Martin’s hand, the sound of tears in his voice obvious as he continued, “It didn’t work. Nothing I did worked. So I…I drove it off, over the bridge. It was a last ditch attempt to save you all. And I know it was selfish and put a whole load of people in danger…but I couldn’t think of that. You were both suffering so much and I couldn’t see it anymore.”

Martin winced at the words. Gentling his tone, he asked, “So you just drove and dumped it somewhere?”

“No,” Grant answered, a more sheepish note in his voice. “I was behind a truck for a while. It looked like there was a lot of junk in the back, so I…I put the statue there. I figured the stuff was going to a landfill or something and if I couldn’t destroy the statue, I…thought it wouldn’t affect anyone else if it was dumped somewhere.”

Martin still held the belt against Grant’s bottom, but he couldn’t bring himself to start using it. He put the implement to one side and drew his younger lover into his arms.

Letting out a quiet sob, Grant flung his arms around Martin and cried into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I just…I love you so much,” he admitted hoarsely. “And it was killing me to just stand by and watch everything happening. You wouldn’t let me in. Kept telling me we had no future together.”

Martin gently pushed Grant back to look into his eyes. “You told me you were in love with a dead man. How could I do anything to encourage that? As far as I knew then, we had no future together. But you should have told me about the statue. Maybe, just maybe, I could have come up with a better idea than just driving the statue over the line, dumping it somewhere and just hoping for the best.”

Paul gave a quiet sniffle and pressed against Martin, wrapping his arms around both of them. “What are we going to do?” he whispered.

“We need to get in contact with the authorities on the reservation,” Martin answered. “At least, that’s the first step. If they don’t listen or don’t believe us, then we’ll have to go a different route. Do some research. The statue had to have a history before it came to us. Has anyone else dealt with it in a different way than just dumping it on some other poor people to deal with?”

Grant sniffled and pressed his face into Martin’s neck, kissing him there. “It’s pretty late to call them now,” he whispered.

“I can leave a message, at least.” Martin slid one hand down Grant’s lower back, giving his backside a firm pat. “After I’ve made the call, I’m going to give you ten strikes with my belt. Because I don’t want something like this happening again. Then, afterwards, I’m going to take both of you to bed. For right now, go and stand in the corner until I come and get you.”

Grant nodded and stood up. He didn’t pull his clothing back into place, instead stumbling over to the corner and putting his nose into it.

Picking up his cell phone, Martin reached out and pulled Paul into his lap. He wrapped his arms around the younger man’s waist, pulling him against his chest, and then dialled the number for the authorities, glancing at the computer screen to make sure he had the number correct.

After only two rings, the phone was answered with an out-of-breath, “Ray Levoi here.”

Martin raised his eyebrows at the fast answer, but only introduced himself. “You’ve got dead people walking around. It’s something I have personal experience with. I think there’s some information I can give you about it.”

“Look, we’ve been having a lot of fake calls about this,” the other man responded. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a psychic or an expert on the paranormal….”

“I’m just a man,” Martin interrupted. “I died far too many times, but I’m human. Ordinary.”

Ray’s laugh was one of disbelief. “You’re an ordinary human who’s died multiple times? I thought the reports coming in sounded crazy.”

“Are you the one in charge of the precinct there?” Martin asked.

“No.” Ray’s response was given very reluctantly. “That would be my partner, Walter Crow Horse.”

“Is he there right now?”

“No.” Ray lowered his voice, as if not wanting to be overheard. “He’s still at home. Sleeping.”

Which was what Martin and his lovers needed to be doing. He slid his hand under Paul’s nightshirt, smiling as the younger man arched against his fingers and let out a purring sound. But he only said, “I know how this sounds. If you haven’t already had them, you’re going to get reports coming in about those dead people acting out their deaths every single night. Give my number and address to your partner. If he thinks the information I have is worth listening to….” He gave Ray his address and cell phone number.

“I’ll pass it on to him. But I’d better get back home now. It’s late.”

“Yeah. I know.” Martin disconnected the call and sighed. He rubbed his hand over Paul’s back, pushing his pants down and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “I love you.” He whispered the words into his younger lover’s ear.

“I love you too.” Paul snuggled in close, pressing a kiss to Martin’s chest, and then pulled away, settling back on the couch next to Martin.

Martin looked towards Grant, still standing in the corner, bare, crimson bottom on display. He picked up the folded belt again and called, “Come here, kid.”

Grant stepped out of the corner, shuffling to Martin’s side with his head down.

As soon as the younger man was within reach, Martin reached out and closed his hand around Grant’s wrist. He pulled him over his knee and put his leg over Grant’s, raising the belt and bringing it down hard.

Immediately, Grant yelped and threw his hands back over his backside, letting out a sobbing, “I’m sorry.”

Hardening his heart, Martin grasped Grant’s hands once more, pinning them against his back. He brought down the belt a second and third strike, each one leaving behind a white mark that then darkened to red.

Grant’s sobs increased in force, tearing at Martin’s heart. He did deliver the remaining strikes, but they were comparatively lighter than the original strikes had been.

When the ten strikes had been given, Grant was limp and sobbing over Martin’s knee. Martin unpinned his legs and then gathered Grant into his lap, hugging him tightly and kissing the side of his neck.

It took several minutes, but Grant’s tears finally died down to quiet sniffles. He pressed his face into Martin’s neck, his falling tears soaking Martin’s skin.

Paul nestled in close to the two of them once more and Martin freed one arm to wrap it around his other lover. He kissed them both and tried hard not to think about what he was letting back into their lives.

Grant wasn’t the only one scared of losing those he loved.

The End