Don't... 04 Backlash (42 page)

A sad smile
touched Jan’s lips as he glanced from Gray down to Jack.

The silver
collar in Gray’s hand was left to fall to his side as Gray brushed
a thumb over a D-link. The colour to the collar matched the unique
clarity of Jack’s eyes, and Trace knew it had been handmade
specifically. Calligraphy marked the inside, but the words
themselves were lost to the Welsh language, where even Trace’s
skills couldn’t decipher them.

“This,” said
Gray, looking down at what he held, but somehow barely seeing it,
“it’s something I know you can’t wear for me.”

Jack went to
say something, then stopped. He didn’t drop his head in shame, but
a lot of anger and regret flared. Mostly for himself, at himself.
He knew his limits, but so too did Gray. What was coming now was
their compromise.

Gray smiled,
just a touch. “No fancy words, Jack.” Gray took the collar away and
put it in his pocket. “Would you allow me to Claim you?” He looked
down a touch. “Would you Claim me?”

“
Fuck,”
mumbled Jack. “Claim
you
?”

“The collar is
mine, and you can ask to let it touch your skin when I know you’re
ready.” He eased to his feet. “But where you can’t wear a collar
now, and I respect that, I’d like my touch to be more permanent on
you, from those who matter most, where it matters most.”

Something
washed through Jack’s gaze and he eased into such an easy smile.
“Fuck yes,” he murmured.

The longest
black silk blindfold was pulled from Gray’s pocket, measuring the
distance from hand to almost floor as Gray held it. Gray played it
through his fingers, watching the run of silk through them.

“Remove your
T-shirt for me, Jack.”

Jack tugged it
over his head. As he looked around for a place to ease his OCD
needs, Jan briefly took it for him. Now Jan had taken a step back,
Gray shifted behind Jack, then eased the silk blindfold into place.
Something was whispered in Jack’s ear, causing such a beautiful
smile to shade Jack’s lips, then Gray made sure Jack’s view of the
world was darkened. The long black silk fell behind Jack, all to
rest on the curve of his back.

Pecs were
displayed, abs, the loose fit of jeans tempting life between the
sheets as they hid the rest of Jack in a comfortable fit. Gray ran
a touch down Jack’s back, gaze following the touch as if he needed
to see his touch as well as feel it on Jack. Not much existed away
from that, and the slight shift with Jack’s blinded look back to
Gray was met with a kiss to Gray’s cheek. Then Gray shifted, moving
to Jack’s side, and Jack’s blind gaze shifted in his direction
again, almost following his scent, maybe leaning into it, keeping
close contact where sight failed. Gray’s touch on Jack’s back
followed Gray too, around Jack’s hip, to the rim of his jeans, and,
ultimately, the buckle to the slim black belt.

Gray unbuckled
it and there was no protest from Jack, no unease with being
touched, with being half-undressed in front of everyone here.

In fact, as
Gray slipped the belt open and made a gentle touch to undo the
clasp on Jack’s jeans, Jack brushed a gentle breath of a kiss
against Gray’s lips.

“Lower, lower,”
Trace heard Jack mumble, and Gray bit back a grin.

“That comment
will get you in serious shit, Jack. You keep that heads-up real
close.”

“Fucking peachy
with me, mukka.” Neck exposed, Gray got a very gentle bite to the
toned curve. “I get to Claim every inch of this—you—next.”

“You need a
reminder on how to say my name too?”

Jack hid his
head in Gray’s throat for a moment. “Oh yes fucking please,” he
laughed so softly.

“You won’t like
the bastard in me, Jack.” Gray eased the clasp open to Jack’s jeans
now the buckle was undone.

“Might need a
reminder on how much I hate the bastard too, Sir. So fucking
badly.”

Gray put a hand
on Jack’s throat and eased away a touch. “Stop it.”

Jack’s kiss was
rough, then softened almost in the same instance against Gray.
“Sir.” And all devilment was instantly buried, but with a brush of
cheek against cheek that asked for leniency when that heads-up
would come back to bite him in the ass. Trace knew Gray was getting
close to stopping handling Jack with kid-gloves, and it was a good
look that played well with both of them. They both just needed to
remember how good it could be.

Brennan came
back over carrying a silk sheet, a startling sterile canvas that
was spread behind Jack.

“A sheet has
just been spread on the floor behind you,” said Gray gently to
Jack. “Lie down. On your back.”

Jack eased down
with a hand on his arm off Jan to help, and Jack relaxed as his
shoulders touched the sheet on the floor. Jan seemed to have
figured this out, and he knelt above Jack’s head, stroking a gentle
touch through Jack’s hair.

From the corner
of the hall, a door opened and a young man came over carrying a
black case. Gray knelt next to Jack and stroked gently at the hip,
but his look held Jan’s.

“You mentioned
a tattoo.” Gray rested the flat of his hand against Jack’s hip,
where Jack had been brutalised with Vince’s iron. “Here.”

Jack’s hand
brushed over Gray’s. “Sir.” His touch shifted, and with an escape
of breath, he eased his jeans off his hip, exposing what remained
of Vince’s brutality.

“My design, my
Claim,” said Gray. “But your permission.”

“Always,
mukka,” mumbled Jack.

Jan switched
from stroking through Jack’s hair to his cheek as the tattoo artist
took a position between Jack’s thighs. Trace caught Gabe’s grin at
how effortlessly Jack’s body welcomed more players. It wasn’t
sexual, not with the tattooist. Jack stayed with Jan, with Gray’s
touch as the case was clicked open, and the tattooist got to work
with cleaning the area to be marked.

With the rest
of the Masters and subs free to take refreshments, it took an hour
for the outline, and a few push downs on Jack’s hips off Gray when
Jack got a little... lost in the sensations of the needles. The
artist must have been one of the MCs because his face kept a
professional edge to it, although a smile would creep up each time
Gray encouraged Jack to keep still with a press down on his
hip.

“Done,” the man
said eventually. “Recommend the colouring and shading be done in a
few days from now. I want to make sure the scarred tissue can cope.
I’ve avoided where the corner of the scar shows a little open
wound.” As he packed his things away, Jack eased up with a wince.
Jan started untying the blindfold, then as the tattoo artist left,
Jack eased back to his knees, his look and finger-prodding
automatically seeking out the outline of the tattoo.

The smile there
held a lot of sadness as he studied the design.

Trace partly
understood the relevance. A collar with Welsh writing wrapped
itself around the outline of an intricately drawn rose. The collar
was Gray all over, the rose...? Trace glanced at Jan. Yeah, he knew
what that meant, but the placement of the tattoo, that said it
all.

Vince’s
branding mark, or what was left of it, would be given colour,
depth—them.

Jack traced the
rose, then followed the outline of the collar, how it wrapped
protectively around it. Finally, the Welsh written there held his
attention.

“What does it
say?” Jack looked at Gray. “It’s the same words written on the
collar in your pocket. The one you tried to give me last year.” He
looked so torn. “What did I miss back then, Gray?”

Now to his
feet, Gray took the collar from his pocket and moved behind Jack.
Kneeling down, he brushed the collar against Jack’s throat, then a
kiss came to Jack’s half-turned cheek.

He answered in
Welsh first, then—“Never far from here, stunner.”

Giving a nod, a
tear slipped free from Jack. “Should have taken time out to
translate, should have—”

Gray rested his
head against the back of Jack’s. “Too many should have’s, Jack.
Just the bollocks now to say how much I love you.”

Jack caught the
hand that snaked his waist. “Yeah,” he mumbled as he rested his
head against Gray’s. “The bollocks to say I love you... Can’t wait
to see what this looks like in colour, though. Because this
Claiming, it works both ways, mukka, and your ass is getting
inked.”

A smile was
given. “Already there, stunner.” He got to his feet, and now in
front of Jack, Gray slipped his shirt out from his trousers
and—

“Fuck.” Jack
pulled Gray in close and rested his hand flat against the exposed
right hip, and Trace grinned. The rose was blue, the petals spread
wide and leading down to a stem of green edged with brown thorns
and green leaf. The collar was stunning silver, the calligraphy to
the Welsh words giving more beauty in the final product. It looked
a few days’ old, maybe just before Trace had arrived. It didn’t
matter when, not in that moment.

Jack choked a
smile. “Hurt your hip at work, you fucker....” But that was lost to
how he ran his fingers over the words. “You got the wording wrong
on this,” he said so quietly.

Gray knew he
hadn’t, it was there as he looked down at Jack.

Jack
kissed where his touch lingered. “Doesn’t read
Jack’ll floor the fuck who
gets close
.”

“How do you
know it doesn’t, stunner?”

Jack instantly
came in, lip and nip against the tattoo. He had marked his way on
Gray’s hip since the beginning, this just cemented that Claim.
Resting his head there briefly and having Gray stroke through his
black hair, Jack twisted to look at Jan.

“Hey there,
things,” he said gently.

“Hey there
back.” Jan knelt by him and Jack rested a hand on his neck.

“You up for
inking so I can be written on you too?” Jack was full of heat, you
could hear it in his voice, see it in his body language as he kept
Gray and Jan close.

Jan ran his
hand over Gray’s hip, his touch staying on the blue rose. He
flicked a look up at Gray. “That me?”

Gray nodded.
“Come all the vanilla touchy-feely stuff,” he said.

“All the kink
and calamity...” mumbled Jan, his look distracted. “And this was
done before Trace came? Before you pinned me against the wall?”

Gray coughed a
little awkwardly, suddenly tensing and defining the fine muscles
and ridges to his hip as he shifted. Brennan raised a brow.

“Well, yes,” he
replied gently. Then something eased on Jan’s face for the first
time. Gray was damn smart. This was what Jan needed. To see the
signs that he mattered to Gray, to Jack, but on Jan’s own terms,
with his own world mixed and preserved with theirs. And Jan
probably understood why Gray’s temper had broken back at home. He’d
already marked Jan as permanent, as his, wanting him there, and
with how it had taken nearly twelve years for him to acknowledge
that side of him to Jack, for a moment it seemed like Jan had
wanted to take that walk into commitment with them both, away, and
have it start on lies and deceit.

“You didn’t
answer.” Jack was kissing at Jan’s throat. “What about it? Fancy
having our mark on you?” Devilment crossed his lips. “Or, if you’re
scared of needles, I could always see if there’s a transfer from
the cereal box left over. Spider-Man? Thor?”

“You fucking—”
cried Jan, but Jack shifted, pulling Jan down into his lap.

“Not scared of
needles,” said Jan, the scowl on his face barely staying in place
as he tried not to laugh.

“No?” Jack gave
a run of tickles along Jan’s ribs.

“No,” cried
Jan. “Got a right prick holding me down on the floor.”

“Fucking
cheek.” His run of tickles had lightened, now finding their way
under his shirt and playing the length of his side. Jack’s chuckles
faded too, the look about him taking Jan in, mouth and tongue
following as he leaned down into the heat.

Brennan and the
other Masters were over by Gray, and Trace went too. Brennan was
Gray’s oldest friend, and it showed in Brennan’s long hold and
whispered conversation, albeit one-sided. Gray still wasn’t
committing to the MC, but coming here tonight, asking the Masters
and their subs to be a part of this, he was acknowledging that if
Jack and Jan were ever okay with it, then he’d reconsider his
position. Then Brennan moved out of the way as Trace pulled Gray
into a very impersonal kiss. “About fucking time,” he mumbled, his
hand around Gray’s neck.

Gray pulled
back, his breathing heavy, cheeks flushed, and for the first time,
in a very long time, an easy smile touched his lips. A shaky exhale
came, then a run of hand through hair was given. “At least the
bastard said yes this time.”

Trace looked
down at the heat playing down on the floor, how Leif had a load of
curses off Jack as he tried to pull Jan away and congratulate him.
“I think they’ve bypassed yes and gone for full-on frolics in front
of the Masters.”

Gabe came over
and offered his hand to Gray. Dare managed to drag Jan off, leaving
Jack with open arms and crying “For fuck’s sake, give a triad some
privacy.”

Gabe wasn’t
smiling. He looked at how the tattoo covered Jack’s hip, then found
Gray a moment later.

“With your
permission, I’d like to look at working Jack in a BDSM scene,” he
said, and Gray lost all of his fire. There was that look—the one
that said contract or no, he wouldn’t allow anyone to touch Jack,
especially tonight.

“You’ve just
Claimed your sub, Gray. Along with Jack’s peace of mind, the Dom’s
safety has to be taken into account too. I can’t allow you to touch
him until I know you’re both okay.” Which is how a Claiming was
usually cemented.

Trace buried
his groan, but managed a nod. “I know Brennan would have planned a
private celebration to celebrate as Masters. It’s why Leif and the
others are here. Spend some time with them, enjoy it, enjoy them.
But Gabe’s right. We’ll meet back at yours, your studio.”