Don't... 04 Backlash (7 page)

Jack and Jan
found whatever peace they could before nightmares kicked in. Over
the past month, Gray had chased after the rare sparks of laughter
off both of them, but the twisted part of his soul, the darker part
that knew how someone wasn’t broken fully if they had the energy to
cry out, he’d willed their cries on when they closed their eyes,
needing to see them fight beneath the sheets.

Because what
came between those polar opposites, between the laughter and
cries...

Bile had him
screwing his eyes shut. The silence took away the ghosts in hiding
and left him needing to crawl back in bed with them to make sure
they were still there.

He’d been
brought up to face both sides of the social fence, playing in muddy
streets and skinny-dipping in Welsh valley pools with other teens
his age one day, then fencing behind private schooled gates the
next. A deliberate lesson from his father:
play both sides, son, and don’t be afraid
to play them both just as dirty
. He’d learned to play dirty, and fuck up so many
people in the process, enjoying the process. Part of that was what
drew him to Jack. Jack could be the knife-edge digging into any
Dom’s groin, wanting to tease the blade one moment, then fuck the
Dom over with the knife when Jack’s world crashed and Martin crept
in on the next breath. And as for Jan...

Somewhere along the line, you fell in love with him, didn’t
you...?

The quiet Vince
had caused... it called out a deeper fear of walking out of the en
suite now and finding the bed empty, that hold and calmness taken
away.

The slide open
of the shower glass partition distracted him slightly, but he kept
his head down, eyes closed. A draught fell over his shoulders as
the door closed, and he waited, just listening. For a moment there
was nothing but the sound of water soaking flesh, then a body came
in close, shaping his from behind. A gentle brush of nose came to
Gray’s shoulder, just a slight nudge, asking quietly for a
response, and Gray felt his entire world slip with it, back to
harder times, darker moments....

Six Months
Earlier

“Hurt you real
bad, didn’t he, Richards?”

In the darkness
of his bedroom, Gray just about caught Jack’s words, but his head
was too full of exhaustion to place whether it was fading dream or
waking need. Then—

“
Head
fuck,” whispered Jack so hard and fast in the darkness. Lying next
to Gray in bed, Jan began to shiver. He faced the darkness, but
someone was there, crouched next to him and sharing the shadows.
“So fucking bad, Jan,” mumbled Jack. “Love you both so much. But it
hurts. Everything fucking hurts. You know. You’re hiding from it
too.
Stupid... say
stupid fucking things
. Wasn’t you back there, wasn’t us, never fucking us except
when I kissed you on the floor, when it hurt more being pulled away
from you. Just... my head. It’s everywhere and I can’t ground it
long enough to stay with you. I want to so fucking badly, baby.
Just... just please hang on in there, stay with me.
Please—”

“Jack?” Gray
jolted, easing up, but instantly regretted it seeing Jack suddenly
jerk back, away from the bed, nearly falling onto his ass. It was
there in his eyes, the threat of a black gas mask easing up from
behind Jan... the rape... the feel of burning skin... of having Jan
lie next to him in their own bed before being raped side by
side.

Gray was up,
shifting over Jan, then reaching to try and help pull Jack up as
Gray hit the floor.

“Fucking
don’t.” Jack carried on scuttling back, that cry in silver eyes
calling out two weeks of hell, of somehow still being held captive
there, never to be fully released.

Jack pushed up
to his feet, back pressed firmly against the wall, trying to look
for a way out. Gray shifted up against him, body pressed in close,
needing to stop the fall.

“Easy,
stunner.” Fuck. He could feel how badly Jack shook, and it matched
his own. “Easy.” Gray played his hands around Jack’s face, just
gentle swipes with thumbs against jaw, anything to keep focus away
from the shadows of the room that seemed to shift and reshape the
cries bleeding into Jack’s gaze.

“Easy,”
whispered Gray again, and Jack calmed, his breathing less
panicked.

“Nobody touches
you again,” said Gray, trying to get in closer and keep the rest of
life away from who he now held. Jack didn’t shift his gaze, and
that natural instant was there with Gray, where private
communication went beneath words, beneath spoken hurt, where he
could ask to be allowed permission to calm... to ease... to touch.
He ran his nose along Jack’s jaw, a quiet demand to be allowed to
comfort, and Jack let out such an unsteady breath before shifting
slightly and allowing Gray access to his throat. Jack was shaking
like hell, so Gray kept to brief brushes of lip against throat. No
marking, claiming, just tender nuzzling to let Jack know he was
here, and Jack’s uneasy sigh gave way to a soft murmur, his
shivering easing into calmer, deeper breaths.

“Miss you,
kid.” Being so close, yet still so far fucking away, it killed.
“Miss you so fucking much.”

Aware of the
pressure between their bodies, how it could hurt Jack’s branding
mark, Gray shifted slightly. But the moment Gray let his hands slip
down to Jack’s ass, give a gentle pull to get Jack to move away
from the wall so he could ease Jack’s silk pyjama bottoms down to
check it and—

“
Cunt
.”

Gray grunted as
Jack pushed him off, then in one movement pinned Gray up against
the wall, an elbow digging into Gray’s throat. Gray controlled his
reaction as anger sliced through hurt and fear in Jack’s eyes. That
need to tear heads off before sex became a conscious thought came
through in his cry, and Jack even dug his elbow in a little
farther, making it impossible to swallow. But something changed.
Jack faltered, dropped his roughness, and confusion laced his eyes
with how his hard-on dug into Gray’s thigh.

Jack cried out,
shaking off Gray’s touch, then slamming Gray’s hands up against the
wall, he moved in close.

A bite came at
Gray’s throat, enough to draw blood and force him to wince against
the onslaught. Full of heat and every need going, any other moment,
any other time where Jack would draw in close and trace his cock
over Gray’s thigh, wanting intimacy, it would calm everything in
Gray. But now...

Gray looked
away, focused on the colours of the hall, how shadows seemed
heavier and holding on that little more, pulling Jack away from him
that little more...

Jack rubbed his
tip against Gray’s exposed skin, the need for release panted out.
Then grunts and frustrated growls took over. He was so hard, but he
stroked himself against Gray with one hand and wiped away tears
with the other, trying to find some comfort in old habits, in Gray,
but getting nowhere fast.

“Oh Christ,
Christ,” groaned Jan, hands going on his head.

Gray buried
his, although the grief came easy enough as—

“
Us....
”
Jack cried out, taking Gray’s breath as he forced his body in close
in an attempt to find release. But his cock had softened, half-semi
in his hand, against Gray’s thigh. “
Not Vince, not Cutter, just you. Just fucking
you... me.”

Gray ducked
slightly as Jack punched the wall.

“
Fucking put me back together again, Gray. Please. Trust....
respect—fucking control.
”

Gray suddenly
shifted, slamming Jack up against the wall. “Put you back
together?” he snarled into his ear. “Like this?” He pinned Jack’s
arms above his head, body now crushing in close. “Through BDSM?” He
made sure Jack couldn’t move and nearly cried out with how he was
forced to hold and calm him now. “Let’s see how ready you really
are for it, then, Jack. Let’s see how much your head really fucking
needs a Dom’s control in any way.” After reaching over to the unit,
he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Take a good look around you,
Jack,” he snarled into his ear, and he flicked one of the handcuffs
around Jack’s wrist. Gray knew exactly what was going to happen,
who this would wake, but—“You fucking remember what it looks like.
Then when we’re done, don’t ever ask for my control like this
again, not to ease a disorder.”

Jan started to
back away as Jack snarled and bucked, fear crying out Jack’s panic
as the cool metal touched his wrist. Then as that first cuff
clicked into place, something switched in his eyes, and Jack became
very, very still.

“Now you’re
scaring him, Welsh.”

Gray went
motionless hearing the name, hearing the psychological switch.

“Not nice,”
said Martin. The change in voice was different, slower, each
syllable given a hard bite, but the switch had come so quick
compared to earlier that night when Martin had been caught with two
Doms, close to sleeping with them, as he had fucked them on two
previous occasions. Everything that was Jack, now given over so
easily to Martin, to hide... to hold. “I think we really need to
fucking play now.”

Martin smiled,
then Gray staggered back, grunting out hurt as Martin head-butted
Gray, smacking into his cheekbone. Then he defended another blow as
Jan scrambled back by the bed, sinking to the floor, and covering
his head.

Martin caught
hold of the drawer that homed the cuffs, and a front glass panel of
the wardrobe shattered as he slammed the drawer into it once,
twice, the third time with Gray ducking splinters of broken drawer
as it scattered into the bedroom assault.

Glass digging
into the pads of his feet, Gray kneed Martin in the ribs, careful
of the branding staining Jack’s hip, then twisted Martin’s arm
behind his back and spun him back towards the bed.

Martin hit
hard, knocking into the frame and making Jan cry out and try to
scramble farther into the shadows.

Gray went cold
and pushed Martin down on the bed. Pinning his free arm behind his
back, the cuffs still swaying from his other wrist, he grabbed
Martin’s hair and forced his look up into the corner. “Look at
him.”

Martin snarled
and writhed.

“You see this,
Jack?” Gray shouted at him. “You fucking hear Jan, how Martin’s
tearing him up an—”

Martin
headbutted Gray again, this time splitting his lip; then Gray ended
up amongst the debris of broken glass and splintered wood as he was
shoved off the bed. He missed the first kick to the ribs, but
caught the second, kicking at Martin’s leg and bringing him down
too. Gray clawed his way up Martin’s body, slipping an arm around
his throat and forcing him to keep focus on Jan.

“
Look
at
him, you fuck,” Gray snarled again as Jan cried out against
Martin’s struggles to get free. “Stop fucking hiding, Jack—look at
Jan. Look at what this is doing.”

“
Stop.
Stopstopstop
,” whispered Jan over and over again, curled so tightly
into a ball. Martin cried out, then Gray grunted as a bite bored
deep into his arm.

“Jan....” The
terror there was Jack’s, but the way he fought put Jack back under
Vince, how Jack would have broken free from Vince and bloodied Jan
for coming over him. It wasn’t a good cry, more full of disgust,
hate. “Let me go. Up—”

Gray pulled him
to his feet and pushed him away from Jan. He couldn’t risk Jack
getting close to Jan, but Jack had worked the cuffs off, spun
around, and a fist caught Gray, forcing him to stumble. He kept a
hold of Jack and made sure Jack stumbled with him, away from Jan.
Jack grunted as his back hit the wall. Then he hit the floor hard,
on his ass.

Gray waited a
moment to see if he’d get up. Seeing nothing but buried head in
arms, he backed up and eased down to the floor, ribs aching, blood
dripping onto his chest, but mostly tired... just so fucking tired
now and needing Jack.

As shattered
glass glinted against the hall light, everything fell quiet for a
while. Jack sat to one side, looking like he was waking from one
nightmare into another, subdued, tired, tear marks at his wrists
where the handcuffs had been torn free. Jan sat to the other, only
now lifting his head to the debris and those left behind in the
fallout. Gray rested his arms across his knees as he watched Jack.
The bedroom was wrecked, glass-fitted wardrobe kicked, beaten, and
broken into pieces, leaving huge splinters of glass running up the
walls as well as the broken glass on the floor. The bed had been
pushed a few feet out of place, the covers now on the floor. A lamp
twisted as heavy breaths fought to gain control.