Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Midvalley's Serenade ❯ The Apprentice ( Chapter 3 )

The Apprentice

Five years passed in an eyeblink it seemed. I still instructed at the academy from time to time, teaching the students the practical mechanics of murder. And then if that weren't enough, I would occasionally get the unpleasant job of breaking in a green partner, fresh from the academy. And so it was I got word

that "they" I usually assumed this meant Legato on orders from Master Knives, wanted me to partner with a new guy and help him along in his new profession.

A week after I got the news, I was nursing a drink in the bar waiting for the partner to show up. "Novices," I thought to myself and rolled my eyes and knocked back the shot. So much for nursing it. I flirted a bit with the bar boy whose ass looked as tight as a drumhead and ordered another one. I sat by the window remembering all the problems I had had with previous partners. Could I ever have been that naïve? Frankly I was less than thrilled.

Out the window, I saw the bus arrive. It disgorged a few farmers, some salesmen, but nothing that looked like partner material. The bar server came back with my drink. He was blocking my view of the batwing doors when someone pushed them open and stepped into the bar. I whistled softly and muttered to myself, "What a long cool drink of water."

My eyes noted the big cross he carried on his shoulder, but I was too busy admiring his shoulders and his face to pay it much attention. From the casual dark bangs that brushed his forehead, cool shades on his eyes, a friendly smile on his lips, and an open collar that exposed a large expanse of smooth tan skin, he was the most attractive man I had seen in years. And he was checking me out-all six feet plus of him. He slipped his shades into the pocket of his black jacket and I noticed the silver crosses on the ends of his sleeves…As if the cross hadn't given it away. A priest. What a waste! But this priest was grinning at me and he had a great smile. "There is a God and He loves me as long as this guy doesn't try to convert me," I thought to myself.

The priest walked up to my table and said, "Goddamn, Midvalley. Long time no see!"

"Do I know you?" I asked him in a puzzled voice.

"I guess I got taller," he said and shrugged.

"Chapel?!" I rose to my feet.

"You got it in one. Hey, I'm flattered."

To my surprise , he pulled me into an affectionate hug. I liked the feel of his arms around me. "I really missed you when you left. I'm parched. Can I join you for a drink?"

"Well, I'd love to, but I'm waiting for someone."

"Oh, well, we can talk later then, partner."

"Shit! You're the partner? I have to admit the cross threw me off. You're who I was waiting for."

I signaled to the bar boy, and asked Chapel, "Is beer good for you? You said you were parched…I'm buying."

"A beer would be great…and an ash tray."

"I was just sitting here dreading breaking in a new partner. Come to think of it, I still am. But it is good to see you too, Chapel. What did they feed you that you grew so tall?"

"All the cigarettes and black coffee I can handle…"

The waiter brought the drinks and ash tray. Chapel lifted his beer bottle, tipped back his head and took a long deep drink from it. He sighed and pressed the chilled bottle against his face. "God that was good and cold." He reached into his jacket, pulled out a cigarette and a book of matches, lit up, and took a deep drag.

I couldn't take my eyes off him. The white shirt set off his dusky complexion. The open collar revealed so much of his neck and chest…and he was smiling at me. Whether he intended it or not, I was totally turned on. I could not remember the last time I had experienced this degree of animal lust.

This was no way to start out with a new partner.

"Midvalley, I've never seen you so flustered."

"Well, it's just that I am really glad to see you again. Let me bum a cigarette off you."

Beneath the table I had a rigid hard-on. He just looked so damned good to me.

"It's really good to see you again, too, Midvalley," he said and he reached over and laid a hand on my shoulder.

His touch sent such a jolt of sensation through me, my groin quivered.

"God, what a hot day!" I exclaimed and sighed deeply.

"Yeah, really hot. My motorcycle had a little problem with sand in the air intake, and it took me an hour to fix it. But I finally got her road worthy again. But I think I got a little dehydrated working in the sun. Can I buy you a beer, Midvalley?"

"Sure." Finally my body had calmed to the extent that I could actually think straight. I was really curious.

"So, you're a priest…Did you take a vow of chastity? How does all that work out?"

"The rules aren't as strict as they used to be. I didn't take a vow, but I am. Chaste."

What a waste, I thought again to myself.

"Do you still play Midvalley?"

"I'm actually getting a little famous. I compose a little and I made some recordings and I am well on my way to reaching cult status…at least for the small group of sax fans that are into what I do. Actually I contacted the band that plays here and I'm jamming with them tonight. Told them my name, said they'd be honored-honored…if I did."

"I'm not surprised. I always thought you were really good."

"I've gotten better."

"Then I am really looking forward to hearing you play. But it can't all be pleasure."

I groaned inwardly as he said that.

"That's right. The mission. We need to do some planning and hash out the details, but there's no real rush. The deadline for completion is a few days off. I booked us a room upstairs already."

God help me I thought. How do I make it through the night?

The band I was jamming with called themselves Blue Wave. We started out with some classics, I know the band members were getting used to me, as I was to them., kind of fore-play before the main event. But when the second set started, it was obvious that we clicked. The bass player found a deep moody line that defined the structure of the song. The drummer added a sulky syncopation that simmered just below boiling. The guitarist plucked jewels of jangling discord, and above all this beautifully meshed sound, Silvia's voice soared bright as a sky rocket in the night arching ever higher and higher hitting a brilliant note , lingering sustaining it and then plunging down into the lower registers with hot heavy visceral growls.

The audience ate it up. I saw Wolfwood at his corner table on his feet clapping enthusiastically.

"Another one of your groupies, Midvalley?" joked the drummer. "He's cute. Nice shoulders."

"Tell me about it," I sighed. "But seriously, he's a friend. We go way back."

"Hey, no offense meant."

"None taken. How about we play "Moons Rise" next?"

"Okay by me."

So we played some more. There were quite a few couples out on the floor. Between numbers, I checked to see how Chapel was doing. He seemed to be chain-smoking and drinking steadily. A number of attractive women were checking him out, lingering by his table trying to make eye contact and flirt. He oozed sex appeal, but seemed completely unaware of the fact and managed to deflect all advances, much to the chagrin of the ladies who looked back at him with expressions of regret.

I went down to sit with him for a while after the third set. I noticed one of his eyes was tearing.

"Something get in your eye, " I asked?

"Yeah, your music. You're really good, Midvalley. You could make a living at this. But I think I do have something stuck in my eye."

"Come on, get up, let me see… there's not enough light here."

Wolfwood was a little unsteady on his feet. I guess the drinking had caught up with him. I guided him to a part of the room where a wall sconce was burning. My heart was doing flip-flops as I tilted Wolfwood's head, pulled on his lower eyelid and looked inside and found a fair-sized piece of grit. My heart wasn't the only organ doing flip-flops. Lucky my suit jacket is cut generously enough to hide the mambo going on in my pants. His body was driving me crazy. But I got the grit out of his eye.

"Must have been the windstorm," he mumbled and swayed slightly.

"You look exhausted, Chapel. Why don't you skip the last set and get some shut-eye."

"Yeah," he said with a slight slur, "it was a long trip in." He turned and lurched a bit unsteadily, but then righted himself and headed for the staircase. "'Night, Middie. Thanks for the music."

After the last set was over, I lingered at the bar over a brandy, thinking about the twist of fate that had brought Chapel back into my life. When I thought of his body and smile again, another wave of lust went through me, but I beat it back. I could see he was shy sexually. With the rape in his past, it was almost inevitable, that he would be.

"He really needs to get over that," I told myself. My sexual self-confidence put a smile on my face, "…And I'm just the man for the job."

Despite my declaration of self-confidence, when I opened the door of the hotel room and saw him lying on one of the beds half-dressed, I became almost dizzy with desire. Just to see the elegant lines of his slim body sprawled artlessly yet beautifully across the bedspread…well, it did something to me.

He had apparently abandoned the attempt to unbutton his shirt and coat a little more than half-way through the job., leaving his taut, flat belly and over half of his chest exposed to view including a café-au-lait nipple that begged to be sucked.

"Gah!" I hurried into the bathroom and dealt with my arousal. "Gah,!" I came hard and fast. Just the thought of sucking on his nipple was enough to send me into sexual overdrive. Not to mention that mouth.

The lower lip was pure temptation. "Stop thinking about it! He's my partner!"

I took a shower and eventually put the water on cold, which shriveled up my rogue prick and allowed me to fall asleep. I dreamed.

I am strolling in the park on a moon-filled night, wind whispering, the smell of damp sagebrush. I hear a rush of feet, whispers, harsh laughter, the hard smack of fists on flesh, guttural voices-"Fuck him, fuck him good. Kick that cocksucker." I see them now caught by the moonlight in a dance of violence. Mazarov with his Mohawk straddles a back and rams away with a feral expression. He comes like a race horse, and pulls out, his cock shining slick. He gives me a knowing look, licks his lips, says "Mount up, Hornfreak, it's your turn."

I don't want to, but I want him, so I fall on that pale bare skin with a savage sexual grunt and thread the hot tight opening with my prick. My breath comes in grunts and gasps as I plunge deeper and deeper and harder and faster into the body beneath me. My hands touch the spine that is rigid with pain. I hear moans and sobs and a voice shouting, "Stop, stop, it hurts, it hurts," and I know it's Chapel's voice, but still I don't stop. I hate myself for what I'm doing so I start to cry, and I'm crying hard, but still I keep thrusting and thrusting and thrusting until I come inside him.

I woke up sobbing with my heart pounding and my sheets wet with hot sperm and tears. It took me a minute to calm myself. I turned on the lamp by my bed and was startled to see Chapel looking at me.

"That was some dream "he said. "Are you okay?"

He was sitting at a table by the open window wearing a T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants and smoking a cigarette.

"More of a nightmare really."

"Care to confess? You'll feel better."

"It was sexual," I said.

"I gathered that," said Chapel dryly.

"You remember that night?" I didn't have to tell him what night. He knew.

"All of it, down to the most sickening details."

"I dreamed I was fucking you with Mazarov's gang."

"Oh," he said and looked away and lit another cigarette although there was already one burning in the ashtray.

We sat in silence for a while.

"You didn't fuck me, Midvalley."

"But I wanted to."

There's no harm done. It was only a dream. And from the way you were crying, it didn't look like you were happy about it."

He took another drag of his cigarette and put his feet up on the windowsill.

"You might think it's funny, Midvalley, but for all these years, I have thought of you as a friend. That was the worst night of my life, but I have one good memory of that night, too…the way you treated me, Midvalley. In my whole life, no one has ever been as kind to me…I remember you telling me that I shouldn't let what they did to me affect me, that if I did, it was like they had won. Well, the truth is, it has affected me.

I hear a lot of confessions. I think I've actually picked up a lot of information about sex. What I gather about it is that most people associate sex with pleasure and I associate it with pain. It's funny, I actually tried to do it a couple of times with prostitutes. I had to get drunk to work up the courage just to try, but when it came right down to it, my body just shut down and I couldn't."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know. I'm sick of being celibate. I have to say that I even had it in the back of my mind that maybe you could give me some pointers."

"Just say the word, Chapel. You'd have a ball."

"It sounds really great, Midvalley." He sounded a little scared and tentative.

"It is," I assured him. "Have you ever had a blow job?" I asked with a cocky grin.

He laughed, but the laughter seemed a little forced. I stood up and moved towards him, but by the time I reached him, his body language was all wrong. I touched his thigh and he flinched, his body rigid.

"Don't…don't touch me," he said urgently. I withdrew my hand. He looked scared, miserable and frustrated.

"It's okay, Chapel," I said calmly as my nascent erection wilted.

"I can't. I can't do it. I just can't," he said in a soft, almost desperate voice.

"Don't worry about it. It's okay. What was I thinking anyway? You've had such a long day. Get some sleep. I'm going back to bed."

I turned out the light and lay on my back with my hands folded under my head, waiting for my eyes to accustom to the darkness.

I saw a match flare into life and heard Chapel inhaling again. And then he exhaled. I could see better now and I watched him as he smoked staring out the window for minutes at a time as if he were searching for an answer. He stubbed out the cigarette, then lit another one, inhaling a third of it, then exhaling with a heavy sigh. He bent over in his chair, his left elbow braced on his knee, his down-turned head propped by his left hand. His right hand held the cigarette. From the glowing tip, smoke floated into lazy arabesques in the moonlight that flowed through the window.

"God, I hate myself, "he whispered.

But, why, Chapel, I thought to myself. I studied him as he sat and watched him straighten in his chair, extinguish the cigarette and then light another. He breathed in another lung-full, exhaled and then leaned back his head and closed his eyes. Moonlight revealed silver tears slipping from his eyelids down the high planes of his cheekbones.

Oh, Chapel, I thought with a rush of sympathy. I felt the sting of tears in my own eyes and oddly, a pang in my heart. He put out his cigarette, walked the few steps to his bed and slumped down on the edge of it with silent tears still sliding down his face. He looked so defeated, I could no longer bear to see him like that. I stood up closed the gap between beds in a moment , sat down beside him and offered him my shoulder. To my surprise, he reached out to me and clung gently as if he'd found a home, and just as gently I drew my arms around him and there I let him rest. In a few minutes I felt him trembling.

"What's wrong, Chapel?" I released him, then I realized he was laughing softly.

"Nothing's wrong. I was just wondering how long I am destined to remain an asexual freak." He seemed clearly amused by the idea.

"It will happen when the time is right." I pulled him into a headlock and gave him a noogie. He just laughed.

I yawned and got up. "I am going to bed."

Chapel crawled under his covers. "Thanks, Midvalley," he mumbled and he was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

Sleep eluded me. I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling. I had so much to think about.

Tonight I had wanted him in the worst way, and being perfectly frank with myself, I probably could have had him. It would have been easy to shame him into it. I have lost count of the number of people I have lied or manipulated into bed, simply because they were an interesting type and I wanted to have sex with them.

But with Chapel, for whatever reason, things were different. He plucked emotional chords in my heart and reawakened feelings I confess I thought were dead-affection, compassion, sympathy, caring…love?

God, no, not love, Midvalley, I told myself sternly--anything but love.

And yet, I couldn't help smiling when I thought of it, a smile that spread even to my heart. With that warm comfortable feeling, I drifted into sleep.