by J P Sayle
The sound coming from the speakers had him refocusing, watching with sick fascination as horrific pieces of equipment came out of Joel’s bag, moving quickly around the room setting up each piece. The glinting maliciousness when Joel faced the camera had Joe struggling to swallow.
Christ, what the fuck is he planning? Bondage cuffs, spreader bar, along with a full body harness, were all laid out. Joel tilted the mattress, using the bed frame to attach the buckles and metal handcuffs.
Joe’s hands trembled as he skimmed the keyboard making sure he was capturing the macabre scene. Zooming in, his belly tied itself in knots, feeling like it may never unravel again. He peered closer, wishing he hadn’t when his blood curdled, feeling his heart stop at the sheer size of the bullwhip. A sudden swishing noise of air cutting had Joe recoiling from the screen. Terror gripped his throat, his mind resisting what the sadistic bastard was planning on doing to him. A spine-chilling cold spread inside him. Goosebumps exploded to life across his chilled skin with each flick of Joel’s wrist. Demonic chuckles floated through the speakers, along with the whistle of the leather cutting the air.
Joe heard his soul screaming, no, no, no when Joel spoke. “This time there will be no escape, Joe King, you will be mine, and I will show you who’s in charge. Nobody dumps me and lives to tell the tale.”
His cameras captured it all. A violent shudder shook his thin frame, rattling his teeth. The meagre sandwich he’d eaten forced him to breathe through his mouth, while his haywire system struggled to keep the sandwich down. His clammy palms rubbed at his revolting stomach, while he gulped air imploring the nausea to settle.
Morse code tapping sounded on the door panel startled Joe into catapulting his chair forward into the work station. “Argh fuck.” At the rate he was going at, he was convinced he’d have a bloody heart attack and die in the van before they’d even started!
Where the hell was his backbone when he needed it? Joe waited a beat, pulling himself together before checking and unlocking the door.
Aaden’s large warm hands pushed him back. “Come on it’s fucking freezing out here, what took you so long, hey? It’s not like you were expecting anyone else for God’s sake.” Aaden’s gruffness so normal to him, Joe didn’t take any offence.
“Okay hold your horses, the space is a little cramped with my kit.”
Aaden’s dark brooding eyes locked with his for a second before taking everything in with one sweep of his van.
“Fuck, man, you built all this yourself? No fucking wonder the army has their claws dug so deeply into you. Shit, this looks fucking genius, man.”
Joe couldn’t stop his instincts to slap at Aaden’s hands when reached to touch his baby. The sound had both men eyeing each other. Aaden pulled back his reddened hand saying nothing, but his hard eyed glare had Joe feeling contrite.
He apologised, “Please don’t touch, okay? Sorry, I shouldn’t have slapped, but I haven’t spent hours getting this set up for something stupid to happen. I can’t afford for something to go wrong now.” His desperation had Aaden offering a sympathetic smile. Joe felt warmth spread into his icy fingers at Aaden’s touch.
“It ends today, Joe. We’ll sort this fucker out for good.”
Loud clanging had both their heads dart towards the screens. Joe saw Aaden’s eyes widen, before he pointed at the screen. “What the fuck is that?”
Joe’s bowels wanted to empty, words stuttered past the horror. “It’s a swing-set, and a straightjacket. It allows your partner to immobilise you while you’re strapped into the swing. Your partner can then fuck you in any position they want, while you can’t escape.”
Aaden’s inquiring stare had heat flood his cheeks, Joe forced himself to explain. “I have done a little research on the subject when Joel asked to play in the beginning.” He shrugged, trying hard not to show his mortification at explaining his love of experimentation with sex. Though he was sure Joel had obliterated the trust levels he required, not at all convinced he’d ever get them back.
His mind a mess, he missed what Aaden had said. “Sorry, what did you say?”
Aaden gave him a reassuring hand squeeze as he spoke. “You ready for me to go up and pay a surprise visit?”
Joe turned back to the screen; it would appear Joel was ready, sitting behind the door, quietly surveying the room from the corner. Joe glanced away from the screen, he knew his eyes were imploring Aaden to be careful. “I’m not sure why I roped you into this mess. Please be careful. Okay?” Joe held up his hand stopping Aaden’s interruption. “Yes, you offered to help. I get that and will be eternally grateful for it. You were the only one listening to me, and that makes me think you didn’t have many options. Though I’m still grateful, I’m allowed to worry for you. I’m not sure how I will ever repay you, but whatever you need, it’s yours.”
Aaden’s dark eyes clouded with an expression Joe couldn’t decipher. “I have enough to atone for, maybe this will help.” His words held a depth of sorrow Joe didn’t understand, quirking his brow Joe waited for Aaden to explain.
“It’s too convoluted to explain and way left field, that sometimes even I find it hard to believe. Let’s just leave it at that.” Aaden’s menacing smile had Joe halting.
“I think it’s time, Joe, for me to go get this asshole, don’t you?” The malicious intent seemed to fill the space inside the van, pulsing between them.
Joe watched Aaden roll his massive shoulders, his large body stretched as much as possible in the confines of the van. His six foot six frame dwarfed most men. Muscles seemed to stretch for miles. Not as bulky as Joel, Aaden’s frame was leaner, extenuating all his assets. Black fatigues hugged his powerful legs, whereas the massive black jacket hid his upper torso. Though it didn’t conceal the raw power he exuded with each precision move he made.
Aaden’s long tresses hung down his back, its colour hard to define. Joe had noted in the sunlight Aaden’s hair looked streaked making him wonder if it was natural. Golden streaks mixed with auburn and dark brown, flecked with gold, depending upon the light. His eyes coal black, had the ability to suck you into their depths. Strong cheekbones contributed to a Nordic God appearance. Though his lush, full lips gave an air of prettiness at odds with the grim, stern harshness he portrayed, rarely smiling.
There had been a spark of recognition when they’d met, Joe convinced Aaden was gay, but he’d never had the courage to ask. The stern mask kept everyone at bay, including him. It was why he’d been surprised by the offer of help. Unsure why he’d opened up to Aaden, feeling compelled to, for some reason he still couldn’t fathom.
Joe’s hands raked through his messy hair, his eyes never wavering from Aaden as he watched the mask he normally wore slip for a second, before the shutters fixed back in place. There was something almost ancient about Aaden when Joe looked deep into those dark eyes. He felt them speak to him, talking of pain and suffering he couldn’t even imagine. Feeling a little weirded out, Joe pushed his thoughts away.
Aaden broke eye contact so abruptly Joe staggered, almost falling. Automatically grabbing the work station, Joe steadied himself. Wow, that was intense. Joe’s muscles twitched, electrocuted into action. He forced a laugh past his frozen lips, feeling the absurdity of the situation take hold.
Joe swallowed past his rising hysteria, wetting his dry throat. The awkward silence had his hands nervously plucking at the invisible lint on his pants. The silence stretched, neither willing, it appeared, to break it.
Joe sighed in defeat, speaking first. “Come on, we need to get this over with before Joel suspects something is going on. He has already voiced what he was going to do to me, but I’m not sure that will be enough to hang him with,” his eyebrows quirked up towards Aaden, his negative response expected, but disappointing him nevertheless.
“You know what to do then?”
Aaden’s small smile transformed the grimness, holy shit, he was breathtaking. Joe was thankful he didn’t unleash that too often. The instant swelling in hi
s pants would be far too difficult to explain away. Self-consciously he tugged his top down, silently cursing his awakened libido. He needed to sort his dick out, or it was going to get him into trouble yet again. The subtle move not lost on Aaden, it would appear, when a smirk lit Aaden’s features.
Pushing past Aaden, Joe opened the door, trying to hide the heat spreading up his neck, the blast of cold air welcomed against his overheated skin.
Joe tucked in behind the door, inhaling the wintery air. “Go on. We may as well get the ball rolling.” Joe gripped Aaden’s sleeve as he passed, his eyes beseeching him to be careful. “Please be careful. He is a mean fuck when riled.”
Joe shuddered at the malevolence that stared back at him.
“You don’t need to worry about me, Joe. I promise you, I can take care of myself.” With that, the van dipped, Joe watched Aaden blend into the darkness. His movement’s silent, surprised such a large man he could move so quietly. He followed him till he lost sight before slamming the door shut and locking it.
It was show time.
Stuart found his feet tapping out a beat to the internal song that played in his head, Sia seemed to understand he was ready to “bang his head against the wall” if they didn’t hurry the fuck up and get off the phone. He scanned the papers in front of him for the umpteenth time. Hadn’t they already discussed this before they were interrupted, as far as he was concerned there was little more to talk about. The contracts were ready for signing. He glanced away from the papers he was holding feeling the weight of Martin’s gaze.
Stuart raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Why on earth was Martin staring at him like that? Martin’s next statement finally penetrated.
“Yes, man, you’re still welcome to come and visit, the only issue is I have sold my house, so the spare room is only available for three weeks till I move into Brad’s. But, I’m sure Brad will be more than happy for you to stay with us.”
Stuart watched Martin purse his lips, hearing only one side of the conversation. He now understood who was on the other end of the phone. Martin had been talking on and off about Joe for weeks, worried his friend was in trouble but unable to ascertain what the hell was going on with him.
Before Stuart could think, he interrupted. “Joe could stay on if he needs the room when you leave.” He shrugged nonchalantly at Martin’s surprised expression. “I have no issue with having a lodger for a while anyway, that’s if he wants to stay after you move out?” Unsure where the offer came from, Stuart felt himself grimace, but he let the offer stand.
Stuart zoned out thinking about the past six months. Brad and Martin needed their own space after the court case. It had dragged on for months only recently finishing, and with that the press had finally given up hounding them. Martin’s protective feelings making it a foregone conclusion that he would move in with Brad quickly. Stuart wasn’t surprised when Martin offered him first refusal on the house weeks later since he’d been living in it for the last six months. His probationary period at the office finishing three months earlier, so he’d jumped at the chance.
He had already chosen to stay and invest in Martin’s company, realising the Island was it for him. Kirk Michael had somehow become his home, getting the stamp of approval when his family had visited several weeks ago. So he’d bitten the bullet, and in less than three weeks, he would be the proud owner of his first house, when the contracts were completed.
A warm feeling settled in his chest at the thought, grinning at Martin, Stuart’s smile slipped at his sour expression. Stuart concentrated on what Martin was saying, catching the tail end of the conversation.
“Yes, I trust him. You will be safe, I promise.”
The grimness he heard had him wondering what he’d missed. Stuart gazed at Martin, seeing his agitation seconds before he got up to march across the small office. Martin’s muscles flexed with each stride, his charcoal grey trousers hugging his firm ass. The crisp white shirt moulded to his chest, highlighting his glowing golden skin. Hazy sun crept through the window haloing his dark hair, making it shimmer in the light. Stuart pondered the fact he’d not really noticed what an attractive bastard Martin was. They were cut too much from the same cloth for either of them to go there, but still it didn’t harm to look in the sweet shop window.
Stuart felt a stirring in his gut, unsure if the agitation building was because of Martin or something else. His own hands fidgeted when Martin tugged on the silver-grey tie like it was choking him.
“Why the fuck won’t you tell me what is going on?” Martin’s anger seemed to fill the small space, whitened knuckles gripping the phone in agitation.
Slight mumbling filtered past Martin’s ear into the room, but it was too difficult to catch when Martin moved to the window. “Okay, we will talk about this when you get here, that’s a promise.” Martin’s husky threat had Stuart consider whether he should retract his offer.
He didn’t need any drama, his life was settled, if albeit a little boring, he was happy with the status quo and didn’t want to disrupt it. Adjusting his navy trousers, he crossed his ankles waiting for Martin to sit.
“Is everything alright with your pal?” Stuart kept his tone light, the tight smile Martin gave him little assurance about his friend’s situation.
“Not sure what is going on, but he will be arriving tonight on the boat. It appears he is at the dock with his bike and van all ready to be loaded.” Martin’s self-deprecating laugh had Stuart wincing. “I have been nagging him for months and nothing. Now he is all but here without a by your leave. I’m not sure what triggered this quick decision, but he will be here in several hours.” Martin’s head shook before his worried eyes fell on Stuart.
“We’ll soon find out, well hopefully. Are you sure, Stuart, that you want Joe to stay on after completion? He could stay with us.” Martin’s question demanded an honest answer, here was his out.
“No it’s fine I have the room.” Not sure who was shocked more, him or Martin by his response. What the heck was wrong with him, he had a perfect out. His mouth just wouldn’t form the words to say no.
Oh well, I could probably change my mind when the contracts are signed. Positive Martin wouldn’t have an issue with that. A sudden though distracted him, crap. He would need to check the house, uncertain if the spare room was clean and tidy. Remembering his mother was the last person to use it, Stuart relaxed, knowing she would have tidied up, but he couldn’t remember if the sheets had been changed.
Martin’s fingers snapped under his nose. “If you’ve quite finished daydreaming.”
Martin’s sarcasm had his lips curving, Stuart’s charcoal eyes sparking with mischief. “Hey, I wasn’t the one who took a personal call when we were in the middle of a management meeting.” Stuart hid his chuckle behind a cough at Martin’s scowl.
Stuart found their ongoing love/hate relationship worked in all areas of their lives. Their friendship had developed over the past six months, supported by the resolution of his and Brad’s past.
Stuart had gone to bat for Brad in court, his evidence showing the court what an evil ass his father truly was day to day. Stuart had kept e-mails and letters full of bigoted hate, it supported the information Brad’s lawyer had uncovered on the zealot group he had been a part of, along with Ms Stevens, as it had turned out.
The horrifying discovery that Ms Stevens had been quietly watching Brad all those years for Malcolm to ensure Brad stayed hidden, had knocked Brad for six. Along with finding out his father had been inducted by his grandfather into the zealot group long before Brad’s birth. It was little consolation to Brad that he’d never stood a chance to escape a hate-filled life. The spine-chilling scars evidence enough of what Brad had endured living with such hate. For Stuart, his small part helped drive the final nail in Malcolm Cummings’ coffin, making him exultant he could finally repay a debt that should never have occurred.
Stuart was pleased to see that Martin’s support and unconditional love had Brad’s glow of happines
s return after the weeks of reliving his past for all to see. He also had noticed Brad no longer seemed as bothered by the scaring, wandering around in the garden without his top when they’d had the end of summer BBQ. They had combined it with a post celebration of his father’s deportation back to the UK with a life sentence. Stuart hoped he rotted in jail for many years.
A tapping at the office door had him shouting distractedly, “Come in.”
The resounding crash had both Martin and him groaning, trying to hide their laughter. Long arms and legs tumbled through the door and landing in a tangled heap at Stuart’s feet. Sighing, he got up to assist poor Greg of the floor.
Stuart bit his lip hard to keep the laughter from escaping, crimson cheeks clashed horribly with Greg’s bright red hair. Greg’s normally pale skin looking more akin to a bright beacon that would signal to ships in the fog. “Come on, give me your hand.”
Greg’s flustered pale blue eyes evaded Stuart. Greg’s hands fluttered about on the floor, attempting to gather the scattered files. Stuart knelt smiling kindly at Greg. A whiff of Greg’s candied breath ghosted past his mouth, enabling Stuart to taste the sweetness on his tongue.
Seeing the effect he had on the poor man, Stuart knew he should pull back, but unable to find it in himself to resist, he stroked the inside of Greg’s wrist. Warm, soft skin twitched, before the pulse accelerated. Stuart leant in for a second, letting his hot breath skitter across Greg’s wet lips.
“Are you alright?” Stuart lowered his voice sexily.