Antidote (Don't) (17 page)

“You—”

The youth staggered back, then fell to the floor, cupping his nose as blood poured from where Jack had head butted him. Not even drawing breath, Jack went in, kicking the hell out of him until Steve rushed and pulled him off. Things had fallen pretty quiet as Jack squirmed out of Steve’s hold, then turned and shoved him back.

“
C’mon then, Jack
,” said Steve, squaring his stance to fight. Jack moved in, pushing him up against a few guys. They pushed him back into Jack, and the jolt snapped Jack out of whatever bloodbath was going through his mind. He suddenly threw his arm around Steve’s neck and pulled him in for a hard kiss on the forehead. Cheers went up and Steve fought to pull free.

“Hey, Jack, get a room.”

Jack let Steve go after a moment, only to keep him close with that arm around his throat, his free hand roughing up his hair. “Steve’s pure straight,” he snapped at whoever shouted, “Kind of like him that way, too.” Jack went to push away, but Steve caught his sleeve, and whatever pleading went on in Steve’s eyes as he looked toward where Jack was heading, it was ignored as Jack pulled angrily away.

He pushed through into the back, the men only chuckling and shouting at the beaten boy to get back on his feet and stop being “such a pussy”. Steve was caught helping him to his feet as Mark followed Jack. Pushing through the door, Mark panned his camera around a backroom where three men stood talking. Cutter was back on screen, full frontal this time, and what little hair he had on his head, his beard made up for. It was long, just biker-style. Unkempt. Eyes were the only remarkable thing Cutter had going for him: startling forest green, like nature at its fullest just before drought weather set in. Seemed Jack had a thing for eyes, only Gray’s... well. Gray’s were better. But the draw was there with Cutter’s. His muscled body wasn’t tempered with a touch of fat, but he was big—huge, stocky. Jack had summed him up as a bear. I agreed, but one that was prepared to stand back, let others attack, then go in for the meat once the prey was dead. Christ, was Jack naturally drawn to the bastard type too? Was that part of his disorder? Seeking out males more dynamic than himself to lose himself in? Had he done the same with Gray?

The other two men looked just as hard. In fact, it looked like Convicts Unite in that back bedroom.

Saying nothing, Jack knelt by the door. It was a little strange, he had every polite manner there of a kid waiting for an adult to finish talking, or a—

I shifted uneasily, casting a quick look at Gray.

Eventually Cutter glanced over as Jack began to fidget, occasionally glaring up at the newcomers. Giving a small smile, he came over and stroked at Jack’s jaw. Jack instantly shifted into the touch, lifting his head, just lightly. The black rope necklace had gone, replaced now with a small silver chain housing a small padlock. Cutter rubbed it between his fingers, then rubbed distractedly at the necklace he wore. A silver key sat quietly on a thicker chain, and Cutter winked down at Jack before heading back toward the men.

“C’mere, boy.”

Mark followed Jack as he padded over and caught Cutter pulling Jack in close by the back of the neck. Jack barely reached chin level and seemed content at the kiss that went to the back of his head. Pinching Jack’s beer, taking a swig, Cutter swung an arm around Jack’s neck, leaving him face-on to the other guys and the camera as he drank.

“Causing trouble out there, our kid?” Cutter grinned over at the two men, his eyes flashing. The two men shared a smile.

“Fucker spilled my beer,” mumbled Jack, looking down and wiping his T-shirt.

“Where?” After putting the beer down, Cutter dug his bloody huge hand into the front of Jack’s jeans. “Here?”

Jack chuckled. “Oh yeah, right fucking there.” He seemed to watch Cutter rub hard into his dick. “Idiot there said you wanted a word,” said Jack, glancing briefly at the cameraman, then back over his shoulder, having to twist and look up slightly to look at Cutter.

“Yeah.” A bite went to Jack’s ear. “Meet Smithy and Rus. These guys here are old friends of mine, and I promised them the night off before that job in a few days.” Jack gave a slight smile and no shyness was there, more an echo of Jack in his older years, come all the experience and kink in young eyes. “And I think,” added Cutter, “you need the bastard fucked out of you; I need all the crew on that job, and it sounds like you’ve just floored one for no reason.”

“Hmmm? What’cha got in mind, sir?”

Cutter rubbed Jack’s dick. “Let’s just feel our way through it, hey?” A grin. “See what crops up?”

It was hard, watching what happened next. Cutter took a fresh razor blade from off the bedside table and lifted Jack’s shirt before making a light cut on his abs. Seeing Jack’s reaction—that lowering in his eyes—I wanted to groan. Jack had said the touch of a blade made colours explode in his mind, wiping away the need for any of his meds, any therapy, and it was there, instant sensation overriding thought, taking any sense. Slipping off his shirt, his jeans, boxers, leaving nothing but the silver chain to show off his tanned youth, Jack shivered, only he looked far from cold. Both men in front of him paid little attention to the chain, one just signalling that the door should be shut.

Given all the privacy they needed, Cutter ran the flat side of the razorblade over Jack’s hip, not cutting, but leaving Jack looking down at it, this bite to his lips, a frown that begged, pleaded—for the blade to go just a little deeper, or simply tease him more, not cut, just keep him high.

“Oh, yeah, kid. Feels good, huh?”

“Hmm,” murmured Jack.

Making Jack face the bedside unit, Cutter bent him over it, now running the blade over Jack’s ass, sweeping it down between Jack’s legs as he kicked them apart. The blade disappeared, touching Jack’s scrotum, then a sharp pull back was given, a cry off Jack, then the blade surfaced with a slight touch of blood staining the silver.

One man on screen gave an awe-filled “Fuck”. I looked away. “Gray. Enough, yeah?” But Gray didn’t move; he looked
im
moveable.

Cutter kept Jack there for a moment, hand on the small of his back, watching with a tilt of head as Jack rode whatever high he got from the cut between his legs, hands gripping and tightening on the unit.

“Fuck me.” One of the men came over, laid a hand on Jack’s left ass cheek, his right. “Yeah.” A lick of his finger, the man pushed it into Jack, fuelling Jack’s ride from the cut with a deep fingering.

“Tight?” said Cutter.

The man grinned up. “Fuck yeah.”

Finger pulled free, he pressed his hand flat on Jack’s right ass cheek and opened him fully again, his look on Cutter. Cutter de-zipped himself and Jack grunted as a thick dick started to feed into him, the man holding him open now rubbing Jack’s cheeks around Cutter’s dick and giving encouraging coos to fuck him harder.

“Tight.” Cutter seemed to ride Jack long and slow knowing just that, with each prolonged push finished by a hard snap of hips. Every stroke forced a rough breath of air from Jack, and it pushed Cutter over the edge as he grunted, pulling out and wiping come on Jack’s ass. Jack seemed to still, hands gripping the unit for a different reason, his knuckles white. “Stay,” said Cutter as Jack went to move, and he encouraged him to do just that by holding him down by the back of the neck. The man who had enjoyed himself by spreading Jack’s cheeks took his place, slicking his fingers with the come that ran free and taking time to lube Jack to make the ride easy. At least Cutter looked after Jack by making sure both dicks were suited up, although he ignored every other sign going wrong with Jack, how tense his body was. The man took more time taking Jack, savouring the ride with a sickening look about him that said he loved youth a little too much. The third, he just pounded in, smacking into Jack’s ass hard enough to knock the bedside unit into the wall each time. Cheers went up outside, banging coming on the wall that matched the pace of the knocking going on in the bedroom, and laughter chased each one.

Fired up with watching, Cutter worked his dick hard for a second time as he took his place behind Jack. It would have been easier on the soul to see Jack fight against it, show some sign that he didn’t want to be there, but as he glanced back over his shoulder, saw Cutter, there was a grin, a shine to his eyes that said he enjoyed the change in handler, and it held me still. Mark had been right, Cutter took Jack like Jack was a man used to being rough-fucked by a nutcase, not an eighteen-year-old kid screwed up with his conflicts over ODD and OCD, and hiding it in the kick of being cut.

Cutter wrapped an arm around Jack’s throat, pulling him up, back into him, and then a hand went over his mouth and nose. My frown deepened. Take it back a few months, that was Gray controlling Jack’s breathing, that was... I fought down sickness.

The two men each took one of Jack’s hands, stopping him from tearing Cutter’s grip off, and Cutter took him hard as one man counted to thirty before Cutter would let Jack take a quick breath again.

“Yes, boy,” he growled, another man covering Jack’s nose as well now. And Jack fought, trying to twist out of it, or force Cutter to play harder. Cutter certainly came harder, forcing the last few ounces into Jack. From the camera angle, how Jack’s dick was trapped between his abs and the unit, Jack came hard too, his cry not allowed to fill the room as Cutter kept it forced back in his throat. “Fucking yes.”

He let Jack go, only to have Jack collapse, fighting for breath, onto the unit; then Cutter’s hands were all over Jack’s damp back, touching, mauling—feeling. “Get dressed; we’ve got work to do on that wholesale job over the next few days. And if that was Jeff that you smacked about out there, you make damn sure you two kiss and make up before the job.”

As Jack stumbled back and started tugging his jeans up over his hips, Cutter and his brood headed for the door. It came open and Cutter barely glanced at Steve as he came in.

“Everything okay?” Steve watched every move of Jack’s, yet still seemed to be conscious of exactly where Cutter was as he gave him a wide berth.

Jack didn’t look up as he fastened his jeans. Cutter glanced distractedly over his shoulder at Steve. “Kid’s fine. Real fucking peachy fine, ain’t you, kid?”

Christ. I groaned.

How many times had Jack used that? How many times had I
heard
Jack use that since I’d known him?

I felt like throwing up. I was going to throw up. And Gray, it looked like he’d been constantly battling it since he’d first seen this video.

“Real fucking peachy that, ain’t it?”

Both Gray and I looked back to the door. Head resting against the frame, arms folded, Jack was framed in the shadow of the doorway as he watched us. “Said that every time we fucked, did Cutter. Barely even heard it half the time.”

“Jack,” I said. Gray had stiffened, dangerously so. “Just... just give us some space for a few minutes, yeah?” I added, only Jack’s focus was purely on Gray as he came over.

“Kind of his catch phrase back then,” he said softly, “loved saying it when I’d fucked a few mates off and had to kiss and make up there too. But that, that was purely just the bonus when it came to Cutter getting some.” He smiled, but there was a dangerous spark to his eyes as he stood nose-to-nose with Gray. Taking Gray’s drink off him, he weighed it up in his hand, watching it play around the edges as he tilted it slightly. “This from the porn site in Jan’s book, hmmmm?” he said quietly. “You found it and couldn’t resist watching it over and over again, when I’d specifically asked you not to?”

Gray never replied and, giving a snarl, Jack threw the drink at the monitor.

“
Well ain’t that just
fucking peachy
, Gray?
”

Glass from the tumbler mixed with the shattered monitor, sprinkling shrapnel inches from all of us. Gray shifted, backing Jack up against his study desk, pushing him down again before the glass had even settled.

“
You bring a cunt like that with you into
my
home?
My
fucking home?
”

“What?” snarled Jack in his face. “Got a fucking problem with me all of a sudden?” Jack pushed his forehead against Gray’s, pushing him up, away from the desk. “Only it’s confusing me a touch. See, I’m your biggest reminder of shits like that— with the shit I’ve pulled—and you’ve got footage spanning nine years of people fucking me in all sorts of roughed-up positions—
you’ve
fucked me in all sorts of roughed-up positions, fuck, even whipped the skin off my back—and yet you...” a shove at Gray’s shoulder, Jack pushed him away a touch, “you turn that fucking upper-class nose of yours up at me for my fucking mouth?”

“
Because your mouth’s still stuck around his cock and you don’t hear me
.”

Jack stalled. “What?”

Every ounce of calm was back in Gray. “During the re-Mastering scene, what did I ask you to do for me?”

There was a frown, then Jack fell quiet, wiping at his mouth, shrugging.

“The collar,” Gray said quietly. “I asked you to keep it on until I’d had a chance to talk to you. I said I’d like to discuss how good it would look on you permanently.”

Jack’s face screwed up, looking more lost as he tried to think back.

“To discuss collaring you, Jack,” I groaned, almost shouting it at him before Gray had to go through each word letter by letter. Jack wasn’t stupid.

“You...” Jack stumbled for the words. “I... You, you didn’t say that, you—” Distance was in his eyes. “You asked to collar me? I... Everything was just so fucking good that nigh—I just—”

“Didn’t hear me. You—”

“
Was lost in a fucking scene
,” shouted Jack, then his eyes widened a touch. “You—was that some kind of fucking test on your part?” Now the fire was there. “Oh, what—you wanted to see if I’d remember mid-scene—or if I’d screw up?
And I went and fucked up
?” He laughed a little. “You sick fuck. You get a kick out of watching me fall as you play head fuck games—
ones I’ve tried to avoid since Cutter, and you, you
—”