Fine Lines: Burn Outs #2

by Dani Hermit

  Matt lit all five fingers and brought them down on Curtis’s chest, slowly dragging them across his skin. “You made him comfortable? Naked and cold in a bathtub?” He was snarling and the heat in his fingertips was going up with every word. Matt was barely speaking. He was forcing the words through gritted teeth, dragging his burning fingers over Curtis’s chest. He could see the flesh peeling back, the muscles underneath darkening as he upped the temperature. “You left him to die while you went out and tried to kill yourself. After you did god knows what to him.”

  “Hey, is anyone out there? He’s hurting me!” Curtis called out weakly for help, his throat not quite recovered from Thomas’s torments. “That’s not true. I did what you would have done.” Curtis’s back bone pressed into the gurney, all his limbs strained against the restraints but he had no means of escape. “It was your energy that encouraged me to cater to his special needs. The water was nice and hot. I thought it would be good for his skin after the freeze attack. Help! Somebody out there. Fuck, he’s cutting me open.”

  “Damn right I’m cutting you open.” Matt snarled, leaning in to make certain Curtis could hear him. “I’m going to cut your fucking heart out while you’re still breathing. I’m going to cook it and eat it while you watch because your Chosen body won’t let you die right away. I’m going to make sure you feel what you tried to do to me.”

  “I’m - I’m sorry. I sort of lost control. I never--my powers were never so big.” Curtis apologized, crying and shaking. “This is all so big. Too much. Just let me go. Please. You’re the good guy, right? Uh, I mean,” Desperation was in every word Curtis managed to get out. “Would Mythos want you to do this?”

  “Do you want to ask him?” Matt snarled. “Because I bet he’d get off on watching me do this. Probably shoot a load right on your screaming face.”

  Matt opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell over, his fire going out. Perched carefully behind him was Boris, holding a large injector full of sedatives. He swore when he saw how bad Curtis was.

  “This is getting old.” He tossed aside the used needle and started rummaging for supplies to patch up Curtis’s wounds.

  Curtis wasn’t going to be much help as he was now terrified of everything and utterly miserable. “Why bother, Bori? Why bother saving me at all? These are your friends. I didn’t think you’d let them butcher me. Is it your turn now? I mean, you guys are right. No one would miss a junkie who OD’ed and no one’s gonna care if you dump me in a field missing a few body parts after you get whatever useful information I have. Not anyone. Not even him.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Thomas’s large body wasn’t exactly suited for the rental car’s backseat and after much tossing and turning, he finally gave up trying to rest. What couldn’t be accomplished by laying down in a cramped space might be achieved by large amounts of alcohol so to the bar it was. He made his way through the wide open back door thinking maybe what he really needed was to talk to Boris, straighten some shit out, and maybe even do what they seemed to do best.

  It was far quieter than he expected and maybe that was for the best. The back room only consisted of a happily dozing Colton, empty chairs, and a deserted beer bottle. The bar was even quieter.

  Thomas liked the occasional six pack but he wasn’t really much of a drinker. He took too much pride in his body and didn’t like to indulge in things that he felt would make it deteriorate faster. So, becoming an alcoholic was not a problem Thomas would ever have. On the rare occasion he wanted to drink his troubles away, he knew one bottle of something strong would do the trick. Grabbing a bottle from the bar, a good scotch, and deciding a glass was unnecessary for the kind of drinking he was going to do, Thomas went back to other room making as little noise as possible so he didn’t disturb his friend.

  He took a few meaningful gulps of scotch. The taste did nothing for him but he liked the burn. He stretched, accidentally kicking the chair across from him. He turned to check on Colton, ready to apologize but he didn’t seem to notice the noise.

  Thomas took out his phone, hoping to distract himself from a full blown misery bender with one of the Backlot gossip sites. His homepage showed his blog and a memory from the first year he started it. His very first entry actually. One he’d had to hop from blog-site to blog-site because things like MySpace weren’t cool anymore. He stared at the illustration of the two smiling men next to a promo picture of Hammer and Anvil. He traced his finger over the caption on the scanned illustration. Stanley “The Tinkerer” Carrington and Emmanuel “Manny” Davos.

  Most Chosen could name their inspirational hero, but the man Thomas looked up to was the man in the picture dressed garishly in complete opposition to the man in tails beside him. Not his ancestor but the other man. Stanley. The man who started what would become the back lots. A visionary. Even before Thomas was one of the Chosen, he was fascinated with the illegal fights.

  His family wasn’t Legacy and a Davos had never carried the Mark before so he’d set his eye on the back lots. And when he’d found out his great-great-great Grandfather was the medicine hawker and co-founder of the Extravaganza Normale, he’d studied everything he could find about it and the real brains behind it, Stanley Carrington. It was said the man held the highest ideals and never took advantage of people like other vaudeville shows.

  The same couldn’t be said for Manny, who had a different way of helping people when it suited him, only whipping up real cures when the price was right. Eventually the Davos family became the fitness franchise they were today, staying in the realm of personal wellness. It had shaped Thomas’s moral code.

  “Well, I fucking let you down, Mr. Carrington,” he said to the illustration before he turned the phone over in disgust. “I damn near killed a man today. I was coerced into raping one of my closest friends. I still think a part of me wants to be with my best friend. And the other part that wants to move on damn near killed my rival in love. So essentially, I’m worse than a bag of dicks.”

  Some part of him hoped Matt was behind him and was going to clamp a hand on his shoulder and make a comment about his dick to get him out of this funk. No friendly hand or teasing, just the silence of Colton’s peaceful breathing. Thomas drank a good portion of the bottle and wiped his teary face with his arm. He lay the palm of his hand on his glowing Night-side Mark.

  “I really am a bad guy.” He put his head down on the table letting the alcohol accelerate the feelings of shame and loneliness so he could feel them and free them.

  He was no good to anyone like this. Really, it might be best for himself and everyone if he crawled back under the rock he came out of. It wasn’t like Matt or Colton had ever checked up on him. Hell, Matt had a son and couldn’t be bothered to share it with him.

  Maybe he’d played his role. He’d gotten the lovers back together. If Matt couldn’t keep Colton out of Leo’s clutches no one could. Third wheel. Dead weight. Sidekick. Joke. At least in the fights, he was a little bit of a star and respected by the younger fighters. At least there he had a purpose.

  But this was not a decision for now. Now was the time to get blackout drunk. Thomas decided that the only decision he needed to make right now was to get a new bottle while he could still stand.

  Thomas wasn’t very stable or quiet as he went for that second bottle and when he tipped over his chair on the way, Mythos awoke with a start. Continuing to feign sleep since his other half was still in dreamland, he observed Thomas’s slow descent into desolation. On one hand he understood. He wasn’t a great deal better. He was falling for Matt, who was everything and more than what Leo promised. He was trying to figure out if he and Colton could co-exist. He was starting to understand his host. Maybe even not hate him.

  In other words, he needed to get his head together and take some form of action to remind himself of who he was and where he belonged. This, any part of this, was a lie. Matt didn’t want him. The scraps of desire thrown
to him when he became Pony, tasty as they might be, were still mere scraps. Mythos had to stay sharp. Matt would snuff him out faster than a practice fireball, possibly with a practice fireball, given half the chance. He needed to escape and he needed to prove his worth to his Only.

  Leo had told him be patient and the reward would be great. That they would be together soon. And his God had been so foresighted he had laid the groundwork for Mythos to make a big splash. Undermine the whole goody-goody gang. Thomas was set up to implode. It was in his every move. He watched as the large man laid out on the round table barely big enough to support him and down an entire bottle of liquor like it was a shot.

  Target acquired.

  It was time for Mythos to do something his host would never dream of and remind himself they were not one and the same.

  Had he been aware of what Mythos was planning, Colton would have schooled him on the complexity of that self-delusion. Having been used by more than one cruel Master at a time, there had been times he’d fantasized it was Matt and Thomas to make it less scary. He’d never admit that to anyone. But it had happened. Their vicious taunts became Matt and Thomas talking smack in his head. Plus a small part of him still wondered what he’d broke up when he’d come into their lives. In the last thirty years, he’d had some strange thoughts about all of it.

  Mythos had no inkling of this knowledge as he moved off the tattoo chair and walked tentative yet predatory steps to where Thomas was talking to himself, spread out on the table. “Are you okay?” He asked as he stood across from Thomas so he only had to raise his head to see him.

  “Fuck. I’m sorry, Colton. I was trying not to bother you.” Thomas swore.

  “It’s no bother.” Mythos hoped his small body wouldn’t topple the table as he sat on the edge to test it. He stared down at Thomas and set a gentle hand on his chest.

  “It’s no bother. I feel like all I do these days is sleep.” He rubbed up and down Thomas’s abs, trying to keep it a Colton action of concern for now. “But you’re a mess, Thomas. Can I do anything for you?”

  Mythos considered how to push Thomas over the edge hard enough to take him down. He drew in some of the leftover beliefs from the bar. All the lonely people thinking they’d never find the one. The fools who believed this one night stand wouldn’t wreck their lives. Oh, all the flavors of belief in a bar, soaking in like whiskey in a barrel. He drew them in around himself and Thomas.

  His hand travelled to Thomas’s face. “Is it heartbreak?” It would soon be an advanced case once Mythos sent his power into Thomas.

  “A little.” Thomas was pretty drunk and eighty percent sure this was supposed to be uncomfortable as hell. But focusing on Colton was calming the storm inside him. Still, he should fight it, especially after all that has happened in the last few days. He calmly pushed Colton’s hand away.

  “Don’t be like that. Is it Matt? Because we came to a understanding.” Mythos left the thought vague, allowing Thomas’s overworked and slightly ensorcelled mind to fill in the blanks.

  The right thing to do was stop whatever this was becoming. But the right way led to pain and self-hatred, emotions Thomas thought might eat him alive. But Colton’s touch, his voice, was a soothing balm even if it shouldn’t be.

  “Colton…” He started to say.

  “Shh.” Mythos put a finger to his lips to stop him. “What you need isn’t words.”

  And then Colton was straddling him, pushing up Thomas’s tank top so he could kiss and lick his nipples. And fuck, it felt good. Colton looked up, his eyes flashing with the sunlight of his power at full blast.

  “Well, that’s not entirely true. You are desperate for my words. Desperate to believe this will break the storm in your mind. That I want you as much as I want him. That I always have.”

  That didn’t sound right at all but Colton’s words were seeping into Thomas’s soul. He couldn’t fight off the feelings that Mythos was pulling out of him.

  “You want nothing more than to stop fighting it. You’ve been jealous of everything Matt gets from me.” Mythos moved his hands down and undid Thomas’s fly and started pulling his jeans off. “You want to know what it feels like to have a slave who’ll drop to his knees and worship that fantastic cock of yours. I believe you’ve hungered for someone who wants to make it all about you forever.”

  Again it didn’t exactly feel like truth to Thomas but Mythos had hit some core pain and desire within him. When Colton’s hot sweet breath hit his revealed erection, Thomas could barely control his body. His hands were tangling in Colton’s soft hair to hold and decide the pace of what was going to be a glorious release. But even Colton’s moans of submission were a means to control Thomas. He had no idea how much of this was Mythos entangling him in his power. Thomas only knew what Mythos told him about himself with words, with the vibrations against his eardrums.

  Thomas used two hands and got into a really aggressive rhythm fucking Colton’s mouth. Mythos had to swallow down a laugh. It was too easy to manipulate this big idiot. Instead, he wiggled his ass and moaned harder. He tried to implant instructions into the sounds, manipulating him further.

  One of Thomas’s big hands slid out of his hair and grabbed Colton’s wrist, twisting it in a way that suggested he wanted him to put it behind his back. Of course the sweet little submissive complied, as Mythos had intended to do. Thomas’s foot came down on Colton’s obedient wrists and he was rewarded by an even more eager mouth.

  CHAPTER NINTEEN

  Dragging Matt from the ambulance to the shed and making sure he was secured wasn’t easy for Boris to handle by himself. He’d given the large man a second dose of sedatives and hoped that left him out for a couple of hours. Hard to say how long they would work with Matt’s Chosen metabolism being kicked into high gear.

  Certain that Curtis was resting as comfortably as he could be, Boris shut up the ambulance and headed back inside to check on Colton. He paused to consider checking on Thomas, but figured that could wait two more minutes until he’d seen to Colton. Syd had gone inside to handle Nessie, so they were probably in the large apartment upstairs now. It was up to Boris to make sure that the tentative team they’d assembled didn’t fall apart before they even started.

  But he was not prepared for what was happening when he went inside. Thomas laid out on the table with Colton earnestly sucking his cock was the last thing he’d thought to find. Boris stopped in the doorway, watching and unable to look away. He feared for a moment that what had happened under Serpent Mound was happening again, but something was different. No one was being hurt. Neither of them appeared to be in distress. For all that he could tell, they both wanted this.

  Boris took a step back, not sure if he should interrupt or make himself scarce.

  Thomas had about all he could take of Colton’s expert teasing and he came hard in Colton’s mouth. He lay there panting as Colton lapped up the cum he couldn’t catch. As the smaller man raised his head, his eyes were the brightest thing in the room. Thomas was too far in to notice and when Colton offered to ride him, he could only nod his head. His eyes had a started to reflect Mythos’s control, his pupils seeming to be glowing with the same Mythos sun behind them.

  “Matt is one lucky guy. You are incredible.”

  “You don’t have to be nice.” The sunlight glow was coming out of Colton’s hands as he touched Thomas. “You don’t have to lie.”

  Something about the last words Mythos cooed startled Thomas a little out of his stupor. “I wouldn’t know if I was.”

  Boris made his choice and walked in, slamming the door behind him. “Hey guys.” He tried to be casual about it. After all, they were adults and Thomas wasn’t his boyfriend. “Want beers?” He kept walking like this wasn’t bothering him, but it was. Something about this whole scenario was absolutely wrong. Which was obviously why he was trying to interrupt without looking like he was trying to interrupt.

  The response he got was pretty clear on one end. Mythos’s eyes became blindingl
y bright as he summoned knives from thin air, calling on all the bar brawls where people believed they could have what they wanted if they just stabbed this guy and sent them at Boris.

  “You are a nuisance I really need to take care of.”

  Boris dropped to the floor, swearing. Not the reaction he expected. Rolling, he grabbed at the knives embedded in the floor next to him. “So, no beers then?” he asked, gauging how he was going to deal with this. He was not prepared to fight Mythos. And everyone else who might be helpful was incapacitated.

  Thomas was too shocked to move fast enough and still half-crazed with Mythos’s power laced words. “Boris? Don’t have to hurt Boris.” He tried to get up but Mythos started stroking his cock and suddenly he was barely sure where he was or who might be in danger.

  Mythos readied another attack this time using more fights and stupid beliefs. The bottles from behind the bar broke at the top and the broken off bits aimed for Boris. “I believe you know he doesn’t care about you, Thomas. You want him to leave us alone. I’m just making sure he does. You don’t believe he cares about you, do you? You believe that I do, though.”

  “I thought he did. I was dumb.” Thomas’s eyes were even more sunlight filled now, radiating a glow much like those of the smaller man on top of him.

  Mythos now wanted to play with both of them. “If you’re not careful, Thomas, why I believe you might die of a broken heart.” He smiled towards Boris as he said it, right before another barrage of bottles.

  Knowing he wasn’t fast enough like this, Boris shifted into his Cat Fight form. Darting around the room, barely dodging bottles was helpful in not getting himself killed. But it was doing little to stop Mythos or help Thomas. He needed an opening. Just a little one. He still had several needles full of sedatives in his pocket. He had thought it would be a good idea to keep them on hand and was glad he had now.