Don't... (4 page)

And that must be the webcam there. Sat on top of the monitor, it took a moment to register what it was. That was something we definitely hadn’t agreed to.

“What the fuh...?”

“I’ve ordered a taxi.”

“Huh,” I said, jerking back to the door and seeing my old man pull his coat on. “What?”

“Taxi,” he said, glancing over as the sound of loose change jingled in his pocket. “Thanks for tea, kid. You going to be alright?”

“Huh?” It was becoming my standard reply. Sam. I’d been hanging around Sam too much. My attention was back with the computer.

“Jack, are you gonna be okay?”

“Sure.” I looked back, then felt slightly annoyed at the question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno. You look a little weird, is all.”

I waved him off, then poked at the webcam. It felt as alien as it looked.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” said my old man, and I grunted something back. Following the wiring down, I saw that it was hooked up to a USB port in my computer. At some point I heard a door close downstairs and figured my old man must have left. I glanced around my room. There’d been no damn webcam here this morning, yet the checks with the rest of the room showed nothing else had been disturbed. Well apart from the chair my old man hadn’t pushed back under the desk, my photo, and the webcam; they were the only things out of place.

Thanks to Gray, I was lucky enough to have a pretty unique security system on my property, but that had never included webcams. So if the bloody thing was screwed onto the monitor somehow, it was coming off now, and I pulled at the drawer to get at my screwdriver set. I kept some to hand, numerous sets dotted around the house. There was always something that needed to be fixed.

A square of yellow sticky paper was glued to the plastic cover.

Don’t...

I picked up the case, the note not really registering until I felt something on the back. Turning it over, I ran over the remainder of the message.

...read my e-mail.

The Unknown.

The screwdriver case hit the floor; at least I thought it was the screwdriver set as I snapped another glance around my room. Nobody should have been here.

I didn’t waste any time doing the usual check of all my windows and doors upstairs, down, even in the bloody loft. The alarm to the front and back doors hadn’t been tampered with, although if someone really had the mind to, they’d be able to get into anything. Hell, I could get into any car with a screwdriver or even just pinch it with a repair truck if the need called for it. Nothing was untouchable. But everything looked the same as when I’d left it.

Jesus... I’d been sitting here with my old man for an hour, and I hadn’t noticed a sodding thing out of the ordinary.

Thoughts about the police came to mind but were just as quickly buried. No. The police would piss themselves if I called this in. Relying on security and their CCTV would have to do. If I caught the bastard on camera, he was finished; if I caught him myself....

I flicked at the cuff of my shirt and didn’t realise the habit until the noise started to bother me. After making sure the screwdriver set was back in its rightful place, I sat down, opened my e-mail account, and scrolled the messages. Among the usual crap, the odd parts update, one in particular made me sit back in my seat.

If Fear Encourages Aggressive Rebellion, don’t...

I drummed on the computer desk with my fingers. Again, only the noise made me aware of the habit. Few people got to tell me what to do.

“Fuck it,” I mumbled and found the mouse warm under my touch as I clicked open.

...
turn me on, Jack.

I paced my bedroom carpet until well after sundown, at some point forced to switch a lamp on in the corner and create soft shadows that were in a direct conflict with how I felt. I eventually sat back down at my computer, my leg tapping its own rhythm, something I hadn’t done since I was eighteen.

The screen still slept on that single message. It should have timed out, gone to stand-by, but the flat-screen stayed locked in some to-the-death staring match, and I was the one constantly breaking the link. Go me, the big competitive guy. Yeah. Right.

Twice now my hand hovered over the drawer with the screwdriver set, wanting to rip the fucking webcam out, hating how it stared back at me, but twice now I’d pulled back, let my hand fall to the desk, strumming a beat on the wood that mimicked the fast pace of my heart, feet, and the need to get out of here. CCTV I was used to; webcams I wasn’t.

Don’t turn me on....

With a groan, I sat back in my chair and ran both hands through my hair.

Don’t- turn- me- on. Don’t- turn- me- on. Don’t....
Fuck. My chair snapped forward as I clicked on the icon for the webcam, the question on how the drivers had been installed still somewhere there at the back of my mind.

Almost instantly the screen went blank.

“What the hell?” At least my articulation was improving. I checked the connection to the flat screen, then bent and pulled the hard drive out to check the connection there.

“What the fuck am I doing?” Why the hell was I worrying about losing a connection? For all I knew, the bastard could have wiped my files and... I groaned. My fucking files. I backed everything to both an external hard drive, plus a trusted site on the net, but the thought of going through the process of getting all the files transferred over to a new computer without Gray... “Oh you stupid fucking fuck.”

“Fear Encourages Aggressive Rebellion.”

In the quiet of my bedroom, the soft voice startled me. Male, most definitely, and it seemed to come from everywhere as I spun around like a fucking girl testing out her prom dress. I eventually settled for my computer as the main source. If someone was there, I couldn’t see him.

“And yet through aggressive oppositional defiance, you submit to desires.” Again his voice. “You’re complicated, Jack. I like that.”

I was speechless for all of two seconds. “Fuck you.” Although I couldn’t understand why the hell I was talking to a blank screen. “What right do you have to fuck about in my house, screw with my computer, with—”

“You?”

It was a simple reply, but one that shut me up. “Who the fuck are you?” Well, it almost shut me up.

“The Unknown.”

I snorted. “I asked for a name not a role-playing tag.” But there was something that hit a nerve with me, and it churned my stomach.

“You don’t need to know my name, Jack.”

That lightened things for a moment. “There you go, the magic word: ‘Don’t.’” I was serious again. “Like fuck I don’t need to know who you are, mate.”

“Psychological conditioning now in force.”

“What?”

The blackness was quiet for a moment. “Punishment, Jack. The encouragement of positive behaviour through penalty. And the main rule of the game is as simple as can be: Don’t.”

“What game? What fucking punishment? And what exactly are you going to do, mate? I mean,” My hands went out as I glanced around my room. “Look around. What’s the worst thing you can do? Frazzle a few circuits?” I couldn’t help but smile. “’Cause if you’re stupid enough to try anything else, I’ll find out where you live and show you the real meaning behind up-close and fucking personal.”

“Try me, Jack.”

Yeah, right. “You know what, go fuck yourself.” I reached for the webcam; it wasn’t screwed down, bloody thing came with monitor clips.

“Come for me tonight, Jack.”

I stopped and looked into the camera. That was the last straw. I gave him the finger, then shut the computer down the
fuck you
way via the socket. After flicking the clips to the webcam stand, I pulled it all off my monitor, watching the USB connection pull free, then gave a satisfied nod seeing it all land in the wastepaper bin next to the desk. Like I said, I didn’t do webcams. If Gray couldn’t force me to use one without threatening to go higher-Dan grading on my ass, my ghost in the machine stood no fucking chance.

“Fuck that, freak.”

Had to be me. Christ knows I attracted the crackpots. Mind you, that’s the internet for you. My eyes rested on the Polaroid, and I inched it back into a line that ran parallel to my desk. Fuck. Hadn’t even lasted twenty-four hours. Picking it up, I let it drop to casual on my desk again and briefly closed my eyes. I went on downstairs and checked the footage in the CCTV. From when I went to work, to now, nothing cropped up. That meant he’d either ghosted his way in, or there was a black spot. Considering my security firm was shit-hot, that meant this guy knew what he was doing, or had some help. Yeah, well, if the bastard wanted to play, I was up for that. I headed for the shower, maybe a little more up to the challenge than I should be.

The water was set to ice-cold from the previous day, and the sweat lining my body told me to leave it that way. Slipping out of my clothes, placing them in the laundry bin, I resigned myself to shaving, cold water being no good for slicing a blade over your throat. After grabbing a few thick towels from the airing cupboard and placing them on the towel rack, I stepped under the shower and let my forehead automatically find the wall, feeling water pelt my shoulders. I’d had this 360 degree shower fitted, cleanliness being a big ritual of mine, especially with working around grease all day. I closed my eyes and let it drown out all the background noise.

Tension ruled my muscles, yet as thoughts lingered on that Polaroid of Gray, I couldn’t stop my own feather of fingers roaming down my stomach, before turning them over and stroking a single line down my cock. Water ran through my fingers, patted against my shaft, to finally run in a single line off my tip. Some of the tension was sighed away but the release was lost to the sound and feel of hard water. Me and Gray sparred sometimes for an hour or so together in the dojo, mostly after class. Yeah, my old man didn’t know about that. The fighting didn’t turn me on, Gray’s pissed-off side during my teens more than a reminder of the bastard he could be, but seeing Gray all fired up afterwards, toned, body never more supple after a workout despite the ten-year or so age difference....

“Fuck.” My dick relived the memories and bypassed semi for downright
can’t fucking ignore me now, Jack,
leaving me shivering. Gray. I cupped my tip, rubbing my palm around the swollen head, my other hand gripping my shaft as I let out a murmur. Strokes came long and hard, breathing just as deep, just as prolonged. The heat and thickness I held in my hands was exposed to the cold patter of water, and the effect almost melted me into the wall.

I had enough time to finish this in my own bed, at my own leisure. Grabbing some shower gel, I soaped my chest and shoulders, spending more time than necessary around my groin, convincing myself with a smile it was in the name of hygiene (he made a good fuck partner, that hygiene). Body fully calmed and more than in the mood, eventually I stepped out, ignoring the towels in favour of allowing the warm night air to dry my nakedness. All lights were off in the house bar my bedroom lamp, curtains closed as I went over to the bed. It was too hot for covers, so I opted for ass-naked on my back, my cock loving the exposure and adding a dampness of its own to toast the occasion.

My dick always had looked at every fuck as though it was its last, finding more than just solace with another guy’s dick when the occasion allowed. It had to be the sexiest turn-on going: feeling another cock sliding against mine, a sure sign of intent and unable to hide the need to be touched, and I’d more than had my fair share. With a guy, his soul was put on naked display with a hard cock, and it was enough to drive me fucking nuts seeing it.

Resting an arm across my face, I let my body build up to the inevitable. Anticipation was a killer for foreplay, setting every sense, every nerve ending on high alert, waiting, wanting, needing to be touched until even the slightest breeze from an open window would have you pleading mercy. Body arched, my cock showed angered impatience, not quite crying frustration, more fury over being made to wait.

Christ. Gray.

Muscles tensed, heels dug into the bed as I massaged my balls. I could almost hear Gray’s soft chuckle echoing in the quiet of the room as he teased his breath across the wetness of my tip, palming me gently, using the wildness to his hair to draw across my cock and leaving the strangest sensation of fine strands drag racing over my exposed head. Yeah, imagination. He made a good fuck-partner too.

Heat drafted my body, mixing with a gentle breeze from the window, flushing my face. Gray pulled my cock down (okay, hands up, it was me, but who gave a fuck at this point?), straining the hard muscle over my sac, and ran a few strokes up the length of my shaft. A tongue flicked at the slit, licking at the head, before slip-sliding around it. Wetness mixed with wetness just as a warm mouth made itself at home over my head, down the shaft, taking me deep. His ghost had me drawing blood at my lip to try and stop my groan. All I needed now was to feel Gray slide his body up mine, share a deep kiss, straddle me, hold his hips as he eased down on me. Which I knew was pure fantasy.

“Christ....” That familiar rush blinded my eyes as I strained my head back.

Come for me, Jack....

Something slipped inside my body, like falling off the clutch and stalling the car. A frustrated growl, I frowned down obviously bothered by the words. My cock had lost all enthusiasm, going from raw and raging, to
what the fuck?
in under ten seconds. Disgruntled, I got off the bed and pulled open my bedside drawer. Grabbing a cigarette out of a pack, then a lighter, I lit up. The lighter and pack went back in the drawer, and I took a long pull in of the smoke, slamming the drawer just to make sure the room knew I was pissed off. I hadn’t smoked in a few months either.

“Punishment still outstanding.”

The cigarette froze somewhere close to my mouth, smoke wafting into my eyes, making them sting. Ash hit my toes, and I shouted a few expletives as I kicked it off, then stubbed the cigarette out.

“Only when the game allows it, Jack. Every ounce of come in that fine body of yours, it spills only when the game allows it.”