Sicarii 2

by Adrienne Wilder

  Because some dark part of him wanted to watch. To touch Jacob again. To be touched.

  Maybe even do those things himself, but never with the cruelty Marcel unleashed.

  Jacob dropped his shoulders. “I’m not going to see Marcel.”

  Ben turned around.

  “I’m here to see you.” Jacob walked to the bed and dropped the bag on the comforter.

  “Why?”

  Jacob flicked Ben a look. His blue eyes burned with an emotion darker than anger. His gaze lingered, dragging down Ben’s body, pausing on his crotch, then skirting away.

  “Because Marcel told me…” He unzipped the duffle. His hand shook, and his mouth turned down. Jacob clenched the edges of the duffle bag with enough force to turn his knuckles white.

  Ben stood straighter.

  Jacob dropped his chin to his chest. His breathing slowed, but the tension remained in the form of stark lines running down his arms. When he opened his eyes, he said, “I’m here to show you what Marcel expects of you.”

  Ben followed the movement of Jacob’s hands as he extracted items from the bag in jerky snatches: a small plastic bottle, another with douche, condoms…

  What the fuck?

  He must have made a sound because Jacob stopped. When he lifted his gaze, tears glittered in his eyes. “They didn’t have an enema, but this will do.” He picked up the box with the douche. He tossed it, and Ben instinctively caught it. He threw it on the bed just as quick.

  “What am I supposed to do with that?” Ben had an idea. In fact, he was pretty damn sure he knew. It simply didn’t want to process.

  “Please, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” Jacob walked over, and Ben stepped back until he hit the wall next to the bed. Jacob dropped another box on the bed next to the box of douche.

  Soap. It was just soap, but next to the feminine hygiene product, it became ominous.

  “Use that soap, not the hotel stuff. Marcel’s picky. He doesn’t like something that will perfume your skin.”

  “Wait.” Ben held up a hand.

  “There are a lot of soaps at the store that will too. The same goes for the douche, unscent—”

  “Just wait a minute.” Ben tugged at the front collar of his shirt. When had it gotten so damn hot in here.? “Will you tell me what the hell is going on?” He had to hear Jacob say it. Just in case he was wrong. And God, Ben hoped he was wrong.

  “Don’t be stupid, what do you think it looks like?”

  Ben dug his thumb into the brand on his hand; it answered with a stinging beat. He’d agreed to this. His life for…for… The air thinned out, and the room wavered. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Why because you’re not gay?” Jacob twisted his mouth up. “For someone who’s not gay, you sure did enjoy putting your hand on my dick last night.”

  “Because he made me.” Told him. Admitting it had only been a verbal command backlit the memory in harsh light.

  “And when you kissed me?”

  Ben shook his head. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Before Ben, before we were ever there? Or did you already forget?” Jacob’s voice cracked.

  “No.” Unlike last night, the act had left a warm tingle across Ben’s mouth. But he couldn’t deny how it had made his skin burn, his hands itch, his entire body ache. The confines of Marcel’s room had buffered the wrongness of it. Now in the motel room, even with only slivers of sunlight escaping from behind the curtain enhanced the shadows tainting that moment.

  “Why did you have to come here?” Tears spilled down Jacob’s cheeks, and he turned away. “Everything was fine until…” He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned forward until his forehead touched his knees. Every intake of air rattle. Every exhale shuddered.

  “I thought…” Shame weighed down Ben’s words. He swallowed. “I told you, I thought Marcel killed my uncle, mother, and father. My family. I thought he killed my family.”

  “So, you were just going to ride in like some vigilante and execute justice?”

  Jacob’s gaze struck Ben hard.

  “Yeah. Maybe? I don’t know…I…”

  “You either did or didn’t, Ben. You either thought you were going to just walk up and kill a man you couldn’t even be sure committed a crime, or you weren’t. There is no gray area.” Jacob stood.

  “He’s committed crimes. He’s killed people. A lot of people.”

  “But you didn’t know if he killed your people?”

  Ben opened his mouth, closed it. His duffle bag still sat on the floor, filled with the lies that brought him there. “I had more reason to believe he did than didn’t.”

  “But you didn’t know.” Jacob took a few steps, then seemed to catch himself. Even with his cheeks blotched, his eyes swollen, the anger marring his face, there was no masking the perfection. The long column of his neck. The graceful slope of his shoulders. How looking at him pulled strings Ben didn’t know he had. Even with the women he’d slept with, he’d never been starved to touch them.

  And that was something Ben couldn’t blame on Marcel. He’d just uncovered it. Anger, fear, humiliation, all the darkness the past couple of weeks had brought into Ben’s life couldn’t smother the hunger growing inside him.

  Jacob held Ben’s gaze. With each passing second, the rage Jacob wore softened into a furrowed brow. He bit his bottom lip hard enough to crease it.

  Did he feel it too?

  Jacob returned to the duffle bag he’d brought with him. “He’ll want you to shave.” He took out a package with a single razor and several replacement blades. A lime green price tag stamped the corner. “Just your chest and your ass crack.” He tossed a black zipper pouch beside the new razor. “He’ll want you to groom yourself, though. Cut most of your pubes back. Short but not so short—they scratch.”

  Ben didn’t know he was moving until Jacob froze.

  “Why do you hate me so much?”

  Jacob laughed a sharp, bitter sound that didn’t fit him. “What am I supposed to do, welcome you with open arms?” Jacob started to lift his chin but returned to fumbling around with the last few items in the duffle bag.

  “No, but you can at least not hate me.”

  “I don’t…hate…y—” Jacob hiccupped an inhale.

  “You act like it.”

  “He’s all I have.” Tears dripped from his chin to his arm. “He doesn’t love me. I know that, but I…” Jacob shook his head. “He’s my world.”

  “You act like I want to be with him.” Ben tensed. “Trust me, that’s not going to happen.”

  “And what if you don’t get to decide that?” Jacob did look at Ben then. “Because if he wants you to be with him, you will. And you’ll want to. Just like you wanted to be with me last night because he told you to.”

  “Why would he even want me?”

  “Because you’re Alexander’s son. And the only man Marcel ever loved was him.”

  Knowing something was not the same as saying it out loud. Unspoken knowledge could be shuffled away, hidden, buried where no one would find it. Speaking the thought brought it into the sun.

  Pain cinched Jacob’s heart. He’d accepted he would never replace Alexander. Hell, he’d never even walk in the man’s shadow. He was nothing, not even a placeholder compared to that man.

  He wasn’t even a rebound fuck.

  Because whatever small piece of Marcel that had loved or come close to it had died the day Alexander did.

  And the saddest part, Marcel didn’t even mourn the loss. Jacob had never seen the man cry, even when he paused in dusting the fireplace mantel to hold the photo of Alexander in his hands.

  His features remained blank. His eyes empty. His breath even. Then he’d replace the frame and go about his chores as if he’d never even stopped to think about him.

  But there’d been a glow in Marcel’s eyes last night when Ben walked into that room. One that remained while he fucked Jacob and had Ben jack him off. One that had blazed when Jacob�
��s lips met Ben’s. One that dimmed when he had ordered Ben to leave.

  Jacob had no doubt Ben believed he would not replace him. He also knew Ben spoke the truth when he said he didn’t want to be with Marcel.

  But Ben hadn’t felt him yet. He hadn’t experienced Marcel’s hands on him, his cock in his ass, the absolute power behind every thrust.

  He hadn’t experienced Marcel. Him. His presence. His…

  Jacob scraped away the tears and reached for the other bottle of lubricant. He’d bought two, so he could show Ben the difference between water-based and oil. And why’d he’d want the oil when there were no condoms.

  Jacob managed to steady his voice when he spoke. “Go ahead and take the enema into the shower.”

  Ben didn’t move.

  “You’ll want to hold in the water as long as you can before you void it. The first time will probably be messy, so don’t be surprised. My advice is to stay in the shower for a minute until you know you’re not going to lose it all over the floor.” He laughed a little. “That is a disaster you do not want to have to clean up.”

  Ben continued to stare.

  Jacob picked up the enema and held it out. “Here.” When Ben didn’t reach for it, he pushed it against the man’s chest. “Take it. I don’t have all day. I want to get this done because if it’s not done when Marcel calls to make sure I did this, he’ll be pissed.” At him, not Ben. Although he might be pissed at Ben, being denied Marcel’s company wouldn’t gut him like it would Jacob. “And we have an appointment at four.”

  Ben took the box. “For what?”

  “Blood tests. At the clinic. It’s a couple blocks away. We can walk.”

  The color drained from Ben’s cheeks, and he plopped down on the edge of the bed so fast he almost missed it. He stared at the box with its pale blue flowers and promise of a refreshed body after use. “Were you ever scared?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you…maybe your first time? Or when he wanted to—”

  “Yeah. But I doubt for the reasons you think.”

  Ben nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever been scared like this.”

  “You ever wonder if the girls you were with were ever afraid?”

  Ben blinked several times before looking at Jacob. “What?”

  “When you fucked your girlfriends.” Jacob warmed at the sight of Ben flinching. “You ever stopped to think they might have been scared?”

  “They never said.”

  “You ever thought about what happens to the ones who do?” Jacob already knew the answer.

  “It wasn’t their first time. They all had more experience than me.”

  Jacob snorted. “I know prostitutes that broke down and cried before every Jon they had to work for.”

  Confusion crumpled Ben’s expression. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Not to you because you’re a straight cis man.”

  “Cis?”

  Jacob rolled his eyes. “Google it.” He emptied the bag. “The point is, experience has nothing to do with being afraid of doing this. When you’re the weaker person, you have to trust the one you’re with because they can hurt you. And some will hurt you.” Worse, they’d take pleasure in it.

  There’d been more than a few times Jacob had bled after taking Franky’s fist. Because the man got off on it.

  “Is that why you won’t tell Marcel no?”

  Jacob clenched his jaw. “You trying to be an asshole, or are you just too stupid to realize you are one?”

  Ben looked away, and some of Jacob’s anger cooled.

  “I’ll…” Ben stood, then stayed there another handful of seconds before picking up the soap and going into the bathroom.

  The shower kicked on, and Jacob moved the items he’d bought around on the bed just to have something to do.

  Outside a car door shut, then a hard knocking came from the left side of Ben’s room where Jacob’s was.

  He inched over to the window. The knocking got louder.

  “I know you’re in there, you bitch.”

  Jacob peeked through a gap in the curtain.

  Logan had on a plum-colored suit and white cowboy hat to go with his snakeskin boots. Bruises covered his left fist. He’d always hit with his left, at least until it got tired. Jacob pitied whoever had been on the receiving end of the beating. Hopefully, they’d survived.

  Logan beat the door again. “You can’t hide forever, cunt. Eventually that old man is gonna fall over from a heart attack, and you won’t have shit to live on. And when you come crawling back, I’m gonna make you remember just how little you have.”

  Tremors ran down Jacob’s arms. Marcel would die one day, but knowing him, he’d outlive Jacob. He could definitely outlive Logan.

  He turned as if he heard something, and Jacob jerked away from the window. It was unlikely he’d been able to see through the gap, and if he had, the inside of the room was darker than the outside, so the shadows would keep him hidden.

  But the logic of those facts did not stop Jacob’s heart from clawing his ribs.

  There was one more hard thump. A moment later, a car door slammed shut. Jacob checked. No one stood on the sidewalk in front of his room.

  When Jacob was with Franky, Logan always wanted him. Never any of the other men or women. Always Jacob, no matter how used up he was. And the more dope Logan had in him, the meaner he got. The only saving grace about him being high was he usually shot up Jacob with him, and the heroin blocked out some of the worst encounters.

  Jacob only knew they’d been bad because of the shape he was in the next day.

  A few times, Franky had beat the shit out of Logan for his abuse. Even his willingness to pay double what others did wasn’t enough for Franky. Jacob had been his cash cow, favored by the majority of big spenders.

  A rush of water joined the hush of the shower. The toilet gurgled, and by the time it had refilled, it flushed again.

  Jacob wiped his palms on his jeans, then checked outside the window one more time.

  The shower continued, and Jacob picked up the bottle of sports drink off the bed. He checked the small courtesy fridge in the corner. One of the only perks offered in the long-stay motel.

  There were no ice trays in the small freezer at the top. A bucket sat on the counter of the vanity, but he wasn’t about to brave the ice machine in hopes it would be generous and spit out a few chunks.

  Ben would just have to drink the stuff room temperature.

  The bathroom door opened. Ben stopped at the threshold and leaned against the doorjamb. The towel he wore hung low enough to flash the widening path of hair as it raced to his groin.

  “Here.” Jacob carried over the sports drink.

  Ben stood straighter. “What’s that for?”

  “Electrolytes. You can knock them off when you clean yourself out.”

  Ben took the bottle and drank with a grimace.

  “You get used to it.” Jacob went to get the razors and shaving cream. He put them on the counter. Ben managed to wipe out half the bottle before setting it down by the sink.

  “You do this every time?”

  “No. I don’t have to every time, but I watch what I eat. No packaged food or pizza or anything with a ton of fat. I make sure I eat a lot of fiber. There’s a cafe down the road that does organic foods for a really fair price. You can order a bunch of sweet potatoes, pre-made salads, that sort of thing for less than you can buy crap at the convenience store.”

  “How do you know what I eat?” Ben’s mouth threatened to curl up.

  “Because you were in there for a good fifteen minutes and flushed at least twice. I’m willing to bet you didn’t make it out of the shower the first two times.”

  Pink crawled up Ben’s face.

  “You can thank Jessica’s seven kids for the motel owner updating the plumbing.”

  Ben frowned. “Who’s Jessica.”

  Jacob pointed to the ceiling. “Upstairs. The one that sounds like she has a
herd of elephants living with her. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed?”

  “I guess I haven’t really paid attention.”

  “Well, trust me, you would have noticed the first time your room flooded because those rug-rats decided to stuff a baby diaper down the toilet or see how many hot wheels cars they can cram into the tub drain.”

  Jacob’s room had flooded twice in the first six months he’d been there. Everyone complained, and the owner ignored them. Then one day, workmen showed up, and within three days, everything had been up brought up to code. Every single room replumbed.

  Jacob had a sneaking suspicion Marcel had something to do with it. But when Jacob asked, Marcel had put him on his knees and stuffed his cock in his mouth.

  His cheeks warmed, and he turned away from Ben, hoping he wouldn’t notice the bulge forming in the front of his jeans.

  “I got the good razors.” Jacob pushed them over to Ben. “And extra heads. Don’t try to use the same blade more than twice. Trust me, it’s not worth it.”

  Ben picked up the packages of replacement razors. “These are, like, twenty dollars a box.”

  “And worth every penny.”

  “How do you afford that?”

  Why did it sound like an accusation rather than a question? “Marcel gives me an allowance for grooming supplies along with what he gives me for…” Jacob shrugged. “He pays for the motel too. I have more than enough.” And he would have lived with nothing if it meant he could sleep in Marcel’s bed every night.

  Ben turned the package over in his hands. “I…” He tapped it against his palm. “So how do…?” He put the package down on the counter and closed his eyes. “I have no idea how to do this, and I have a feeling if I try, I’m going to seriously hurt myself.”

  “They’re safety razors.”

  “They still cut.”

  “They nick.”

  Ben almost lifted his gaze.

  No. Jacob was not going to help him. He’d tell him what to do, how to do it, but he wasn’t going to put his hands on Ben any more than he had to. Hell, he didn’t even want to fuck the man.

  But he would because it’s what Marcel wanted. Luckily, Jacob had a lot of experience fucking men and women he had no interest in.