by SE Jakes
Aleks huffed, “Fuck…you’re not going to…” right before Brogan's tongue flattened against the spot that made Aleks cry out in a howl, even as his cheeks flushed hot and he buried his face in the pillow and moaned like a bitch.
Brogan buried his face in Aleks's ass and ate it until Aleks was straining the sheets, crying out and cursing, unable to move away from Brogan's machinations.
When his tongue was replaced by his cock, he kept pressing Aleks's back, and with a hard push, he entered him, splitting him, filling him and then fucking him as hard as he could…talking Aleks for a wild ride.
And Aleks had been muttering again, in Russian, the words pouring out of him.
"You like being pounded."
"Fuck, yes."
"By me."
"Yes."
"Opening up to me. Being held down by me."
"Yes," Aleks ground out. "Yes to all of it. Now let me come."
Brogan hit his prostate three times in quick succession and Aleks froze, muscles taut as a bow pulling back before he shot, balls tightening like he was blowing his load through a cannon.
Aleks’s orgasm seemed to last forever—longest one he could ever remember, like it was several rolled into one…and then everything was white and hazy and perfect.
At some point, he realized his legs were trembling. He was vaguely aware of Brogan helping to lower him flat to the bed, groaning as he eased his aching body against the cold sheets. Didn't give a shit about the wet spot, but there wasn't one. Brogan had shoved a towel under them and took it away before Aleks lay down.
Brogan stroked his damp hair now, and the back of his neck as he came down from something pretty damned close to subspace. He lay there, unwilling, unable to look at Brogan. Everything was spiraling. He was spiraling, so far out of control, away from the promises he'd made to himself, to Brad and Vann.
Brogan was wiping him down—all that aftercare bullshit that Aleks hadn't truly understood or appreciated…until now.
The cloth was a perfect temperature, cool but not cold, and it wiped away the sweat. He stared up at Brogan and saw his expression—it was different. Something had happened, and Aleks was as shaken as Brogan was, for different reasons—and one very similar one. That fuck had gone way beyond sex, moved them into a space that there was no coming back from… They could tiptoe away from it, back up slightly. Ignore it. But was there. It happened…and for a moment in time, they both acknowledged it.
When the chill set in, Brogan pulled the blanket over his bare skin. His limbs were lead, his mind floated and he closed his eyes and for the first time he could remember, he slept a dreamless sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
"You've only been out an hour" were Brogan's first words to him when Aleks's eyes opened with a Where the fuck am I? start.
"Christ," he muttered. "That was…" Amazing. Intense.
Everything.
Brogan smiled a little. "I loved seeing you like that. Like this. I love seeing you any way you are, Aleks. You have to know that."
Aleks realized he did. He never would've seen Brogan again after the first night if he could've helped it.
"Aleks, what's going on?" Brogan pressed quietly.
Aleks stared up at him. "Really? You're doing this now when I'm helpless?"
Brogan snorted softly. "You're never helpless." But then he frowned, and maybe Aleks’s expression gave too much away, letting Brogan know that he’d been wrong about Aleks’s helplessness.
Aleks hesitated and then said, "I meant it when I said okay…about our commitment. But then I started thinking."
"And what did you come up with?"
"You fell in lust, Brogan."
Brogan nodded slowly. "At first, sure. But lust doesn't usually last for this long."
"It's fantasy," Aleks insisted.
"But this…" Brogan motioned between the two of them. "Isn't. It's flesh and blood."
"Right. Which is why it won't work."
"You need to explain," he demanded. “Because right now, I’m not sure which one of us you’re trying to convince.”
"Because now that I'm real, it's real…"
"Makes it better," Brogan said firmly.
"Fantasy's easier."
"Yes, but not as fulfilling. I told you, it's about more than fantasy. Because even though I didn't meet you that night at the fight…we connected. I don't know why. I was struggling, going against my family. I was headed into a hard-as-fuck training program and maybe I saw something in you that could save me. Maybe your strength gave me a lifeline."
"Maybe I was drowning too," Aleks managed.
"Then tell me. Tell me everything. I want to know," Brogan urged.
"No, you don't. And I couldn't anyway."
Brogan stared at him. "I'll wait, Aleks. You can't deny there's something between us. In fact, you wouldn't be fighting this hard to deny it if you didn't feel it."
Aleks couldn't admit that he was right. Because admitting that would start an avalanche of events that nothing could stop. It was either dig in deeper or cut bait and run.
So he stared at Brogan…and dove in. "The fights…"
"You didn't like them."
"I hated them."
"You needed money."
He laughed, an odd sound in the too-quiet room. "Not for me. I was paying off a debt."
Brogan frowned. "Like a gambling debt?"
"No. And it wasn't just one night." Rip the fucking Band-Aid off, Aleks. "Two years. I fought for two years in order to help my brother."
"You brother who died?"
"Yes. And I don't think I want to do this now. Any of it. I don't want to tell you the rest of the story."
"I want to help you."
"But I don't need your fucking help." Aleks's voice shook with exposed, raw anger. His body ached like he'd just fought for his life and he just wanted to put all this behind him.
The fights, the cages…all of it, flashing in picture after picture in front of his eyes until his head felt ready to explode.
For years, he'd had one road, one trail to follow. Revenge was a powerful taskmaster—and a necessary one in this case, but he was being tugged in a direction his heart wanted to go but his head knew he couldn't.
"Did the people you fought for hurt your brother?" Brogan pushed.
Aleks shot to his feet. "They killed him. The fuckers killed him and by doing that, they took a piece of me."
They stared at each other, with Aleks shaking from rage. And instead of asking any more questions, Brogan simply pulled him in close and held him. Wrapped his arms around Aleks hard, a comfort measure, and they remained like that until Aleks felt strong enough to pull back.
When he did, Brogan told him, "I didn't know anything about using fighters to pay off debts. You have to believe that."
"Why? Why the fuck's that so important to you?"
"If they forced you to fight to work off Berdy’s debt…that’s extortion. I don't support that shit and I sure as hell wouldn’t have come to watch you fight under those circumstances."
"Aren't you a Boy Scout."
"I would've shut it down,” Brogan said, his voice a fierce growl.
"Why? Because you're a do-gooder?" Aleks pushed him hard and Brogan stumbled back a step but caught himself quickly. Aleks was in his face just as fast. "You don't know what the fuck you're doing. Stay out of it."
"Really? Why's that? Because you had so much fun there?”
"I wasn't there against my will. It doesn't work like that," Aleks hissed.
"Then tell me what it's like," Brogan demanded. “Because right now, you’re so goddamned turned around that you think you went there to fight out of your own free will. Nothing about what you were pushed to do was consensual, Aleks, no matter what they tried to make you believe. You were coerced. And none of this was your fault.”
Brogan braced himself for another push, but instead Aleks took a step back and muttered, "Fuck," his expression flashing to that angry one Brogan remembe
red so well. It hadn't been an act, that edge of crazy Aleks brought to the ring. "I did it to save my brother. I had no other choice—no money, so I bartered the only thing I had. Myself."
Brogan sighed. Looked at the ceiling. "Shit. Aleks, I can't believe—"
"Of course you can't. You were there, paying for it. Enjoying it. Yelling for the winner," Aleks bit out. "None of you or the other men who paid to watch me fight had any thoughts about why we were doing it." Aleks laughed, an almost hysterical sound. "Yes, I turned myself over to the cage most willingly. Because I had to work off the debt to save my brother from the cage they put him in."
"Wait, what?" Brogan had gone still. Dangerously so.
"The men who ran the ring kidnapped my brother, then sent for me. And they gave me a reasonable choice—fight for them and I could have my brother back, or walk away and they'd kill him immediately." Aleks's tone was flat but there was fire in his eyes. "I guess you know which one I chose."
“Caged. They caged both of you…for years,” Brogan repeated slowly, because he needed to hear himself say it out loud, even as his gut contracted with the horror of what Aleks had unfolded for him. The horror that Aleks lived with for years…the horror he could barely admit actually happened. And then Brogan was babbling, trying to scrabble for the right words…and knowing when they came out that they were all wrong. "I knew it wasn't a legal ring—underground fighting never is, but that…"
"Right. I lost my brother and you're worried you were in more of an illegal than normal underground fighting space."
He grabbed Aleks by the shoulders. "That's not what I mean and you fucking know it."
"No, I don't know anything except you paid money and watched me fight." Aleks jerked away. "Those were the early matches. The 'fun' ones. They tended to get a little dark toward the end."
"Dark how?'
"Well, I'm not sure you'd have had the same hard on watching me strangle my opponent to death. Then again, maybe you're into that shit."
Brogan's head spun. "I can't believe this. I can't fucking believe it."
"How should I convince you?" Aleks asked dryly.
"Did he know?"
"Did who know?"
"Harry—did he know?"
Aleks shrugged but Brogan had his answer. Then Aleks asked, "Did you know?"
That stopped Brogan cold. "Are you asking if I knew what the ring was all about?"
"Yeah, that's what I'm asking."
"Have you been with me this entire time wondering if I was in on you living in a cage, forced to kill men to save your brother?" Brogan demanded.
"Yes."
Brogan turned away, feeling the bile rise in his throat. What kind of man did Aleks think he was? And honestly, how and why would Aleks think differently? "Are you with me because of this, for recon, or in spite of yourself?" he asked, his voice tight, his throat painfully so.
He turned to see Aleks's face when Aleks admitted, "In spite of."
That was the single bright spot of this entire shitshow. "Did you think I came back to the States to find you… that I found out you'd moved here?"
Aleks nodded and Brogan registered that, every time they were together, Aleks wasn't sure if he should be expecting sex or an ambush.
Aleks continued. "See, they fixed it perfectly. They filmed it. Somewhere there's a film of me killing three men. So I don't go to the police, I'm not turned in for a triple homicide." He shrugged. "But I don't plan to let them get away with it. It's been eight years, but I haven't forgotten. If nothing else, I'm a patient fucker."
"Do I want to know what that means?"
"Do you?" Aleks challenged.
"I need you to tell me."
Aleks shook his head. "Figure it out for yourself. I'm done helping your family."
"That's not fair. You're not giving me a chance to make things right."
"Why would you want to do that?" Aleks asked.
"Because I'm falling for you. And if you tell me you haven't realized that, you're lying," Brogan shot back. "I probably started the night I saw you. I haven't been able to stop thinking of you, which now sounds so fucked up, given the circumstances."
"I've thought about you a lot over the years too," Aleks admitted.
"Because you knew who I was?"
"I didn't. Not right away. I didn't start researching anything until a couple of years after I was freed. I didn't want to put any suspicion on myself, in case they were tracking me."
And that's why the security check hit Aleks so hard. That's why all of this had become a push-pull for far more than the commitment issues Aleks had.
Had any of it been real between them? Brogan believed it was, because Aleks could fake a lot of things, but every man's guard was down when he was coming. That's where all the truth spilled out, as it were. And Aleks was no different.
Aleks was careful not to mention Vann at all to Brogan. That was their deal—separate responsibilities and they'd never sell the other out. Brogan was coming to some ugly realizations and even though it would help Aleks walk away in the long run, it was making his chest ache in the short term. “This is something I have to do, Brogan. I get that you want to make things right, but it’s not your place to do that.”
"Aleks, you really expect me to stand back and let you—"
"Yes." Aleks cut him off. "Walk away and let me take care of my business."
"We're involved." Brogan motioned between them.
"Now you're worried you could get in trouble?"
"I'm worried about you, for a lot of reasons. I don't want anything else on your conscience."
"My conscience is clean," Aleks said furiously. "Walk away, Brogan, the way I'm about to. Walk away, don't look back and don't bother brushing off your tux—you won't need it this weekend. That's all you need to do." Aleks picked up Brogan's cell phone off the table. "Here. Call your cousin. Call and warn him I'm coming. Ease your conscience. It won't matter."
Brogan didn't move, his expression shuttered. "You were just…fuck." Brogan stared at him, his eyes haunted by the realization.
Then he did something that Aleks had never expected. He got on his knees and stared at Aleks as he threaded his fingers together behind his head. "Go ahead, Aleks."
"Why the hell are you doing?"
"You're looking for sacrifices. Revenge."
He had been. He'd thought Brogan could lead him down the perfect path to find vengeance. And then… "No. Get the fuck up."
Brogan remained on his knees, staring up at him. "Why not? It's what you wanted."
"No. Not you."
"But you've been using me to get to Harry."
Tell him that's how it started out, but now everything's different. Tell him that everything's changed.
Instead, Aleks said, "Like I said, you can warn Harry about me, but it won't matter. He'll never see me coming."
Brogan got off his knees in one smooth movement. "Aleks, I'm begging you not to do this—and it has nothing to do with wanting to save Harry. I called him last night. I told him that I’d met you, that I remembered you from the fights. And I told him you were coming to the wedding." Brogan paused as they both absorbed the enormity of what he'd done. "I didn't know—"
"I know that," Aleks said. "And it doesn't matter how ready he might think he is for me."
"Harry deserves whatever he gets, and I'll help you make sure justice is served. Please—call the police and tell them everything."
Aleks pressed his lips together for a brief second. "Right. The police. Even if Harry didn't have the video, picture me going up against your family, Brogan."
Brogan's expression hardened but he didn't argue. Because he knew exactly what Aleks was talking about—money talked and Aleks had no proof of what had happened to him. "There’s got to be something I can do."
"You can probably testify against me. You saw me fighting illegally. And everything I’ve told you—I’ve got no proof, except my word and Berdy’s death. They’ll say I’d do anything to save my own
ass, and I know that’s exactly what it looks like." He didn't want to do this, not to Brogan. Not to either of them. But he had to drop the guillotine and deliver possibly the most cutting blow in all of this. "And they'll paint you as trying to oust your cousin from the business, because that's the trail Harry set up to frame you. If I do go to the police…all signs point to you being the guilty one. And if you go in and check on the trail, try to change it, it will make you look guiltier. He’s set up shell companies for you. You own a gym." He stopped, because it was already so bad, and he didn’t want to make it worse. But Brogan needed to understand there was nothing he could do to help. Nothing within the law.
Brogan fisted his hands. "Damn him. Damn him to hell."
"I can't say I don't agree."
"I can handle it. I can prove—"
"No. It doesn't matter. I have my path. I can't say I'm unhappy about the way it veered, but it's made it harder to remain clear on what I need to do. I owe my brother—my family." His voice broke slightly on those last words, so he paused, gathered himself. Then he looked at Brogan and asked hollowly, “You really had no idea?"
"None. Dammit." Brogan paced, then stopped. "What the fuck do you think of me? Of my family?"
"I don't think you want to know that last part."
Brogan looked shattered, like his world was collapsing. "Aleks, please."
"Let me leave, Brogan. Just let me walk out of your apartment—your life—to do what I have to do."
"No. No, no, no!" Brogan shouted. "Don't walk out on me. On us."
Play it, Aleks. "That's bullshit and you know it."
And that doesn't matter. Can't.
Still, he knew Brogan wouldn’t let him leave without a fight. But Aleks didn’t fight anymore—he put a stop to things. This couldn’t be any different.
"Goodbye, Brogan." He reached into the elevator and pulled the fire alarm so it would stop the elevator from functioning, and when Brogan reached out to stop him from using the stairs, Aleks threw a surprise left hook that took Brogan down to the ground, stunning him. Not for long, though—and Aleks paused to make sure that Brogan hadn’t hit his head on anything harder than the carpet before he took off down the stairs.