by Luna, David
Nuzzling his face into the crook of what he realized was the neck of the man whose arms were wrapped protectively around him, he hummed in the back of his throat and tightened his hold around the man’s back. He cast his mind back to the night before and couldn’t remember anything after securing his belongings in his locker.
Strange.
He put it out of his mind for the moment and concentrated on the feel of the arms wrapped around him. They were strong, unusually so. He could feel the muscles under his cheek as his head rested on a very solid bicep. He felt the impressive back muscles where his hand gripped and ran his hand up and down the solid length of it. Jesus, it seemed to go on forever.
Not able to wait any longer to find out who the mystery man was that held him so protectively and yet so gently, he slowly pulled back, unable to keep the hope from flaring up in his chest. As he withdrew, the man’s arms loosened and allowed him to lean back far enough to glance up. What he saw there had him gasping in horror. Tears sprang to his eyes as he pushed himself away, completely bewildered. The hope that had, mere seconds earlier, flared bright in his chest, withered and died.
Feeling nausea roil in his stomach, he scuttled back, tangling his legs in the bedding. He shook his head, trying to reach out. Sebastian nearly pitched himself off the bed but grabbed the bedding and held on until he could wrestle one of his legs out of the blankets, which was when he realized he was completely naked. He cried out then, unable to help himself. “No!”
“Sebastian!”
Nearly sobbing, he shook his head hard, lost his grip on the sheet, and fell off the edge of the bed only to yelp in surprise as the pain on his ass registered for the first time. He reached around to feel the multitude of welts and anger built up inside of him. The pain and horror of the last few minutes coalescing into an unavoidable vortex. “What did you do? What did we… Oh, god. Oh my god! Where is he?”
An incredulous expression passed over the man’s face. “Who?”
Sebastian lost it then, full out lost it. “WHO? Your husband! Where is Braden? How could you? How could we?” He covered his mouth and shook his head, trying to erase the truth of what he’d apparently done.
The man slid across the bed as he sat frozen in place. He kneeled down in front of Sebastian and reached his hand out to grip his wrist. “Calm down.”
Calm down? Before he even knew what he was doing, his other hand flew out and slapped the man across the face; so hard the noise was like a shockwave in his own head. He gasped and covered his mouth with his now stinging hand. Holy shit, he’d never hit anyone in his whole life. Not once. What the fuck was going on? “Ohgodohgodohgod. Nonononono.”
He shook his head again and realized he was going to be sick. He looked around frantically and saw the bathroom to his left and scrambled in that direction, nearly tripping over a blanket and pillow on the floor as he stumbled his way to the toilet.
He distantly heard, “…you’re confused.”
He lost whatever was left of his stomach contents. What the hell was there to be confused about? He continued to dry heave long after there was nothing to expel and sobbed into his folded arms, knowing he’d ruined the closest thing he’d come to the beginning of a friendship in longer than he could ever remember. As he flushed the toilet, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and drew back in anger and disgust, sprawling on his ass gracelessly. Ouch.
“Don’t touch me! Just stay away from me, Zavier.”
“Look at me, boy.”
Training, so ingrained into his psyche he was unable to ignore that deep Dominant voice, had him lifting his eyes. Expecting to see guilt or shame, he was utterly speechless to see understanding coupled with a sad smile. He looked down at the floor.
A gentle finger tilted his chin up and he once again looked into the eyes of a man he’d somehow thought he could trust. Devastation was eating him from the inside out. A gentle hand cupped his cheek, but before he could look away again, the deepest, most concerned voice he’d ever heard held him captive.
“Sebastian, I’m not Zavier. I’m Gideon, Zavier’s older brother.”
Wait… What? No. That couldn’t be right. He stared hard at the man who he would have sworn was Zavier. There was no way. Only…maybe. He looked deeply into the man’s eyes, aquamarine, not Zavier’s electric blue. His dark brown hair, a bit longer, making the slight curls visible. Jesus, what had he done?
He reached forward and gripped the man’s wrist in one hand and pushed his long sleeve up his forearm. His breathing became erratic and he grabbed the man’s other wrist and did the same thing. No tattoos. None. Oh my god. And he’d hit him!? He jerked this head up and took in the red handprint still visible on the gorgeous man’s cheek.
Reaching up, he ran his fingers lightly over the mark he’d left on Gideon’s face, glancing at his dark beard, much fuller than that of his brother’s. What the fuck was going on? He quickly pulled his hand back, crossing both arms over his chest, realizing again that he was naked in front of one of the most enormously built men he’d ever seen, a bit more muscular than Zavier, the differences between the two men obvious once he looked hard enough.
He brought his knees up to cover himself more thoroughly, wrapped his arms around them, and pulled them flush with his chest. He avoided the man’s eyes at all costs. “I’m sorry I hit you, Sir.”
“I’m not.”
That threw him for a loop and he looked up at Gideon, incredulous. Gideon shook his head and said, “You were protecting Braden and standing up for yourself. There’s no reason for you to be sorry.”
Confusion etched its way across Sebastian’s face. “What happened last night? How did I get here? Why can’t I remember anything?”
Gideon grimaced. “You were roofied. We caught him before he could do anything worse than stripe your backside with the cane. I’m just sorry we weren’t fast enough to keep that much from happening.”
Sebastian squeezed his eyes closed, wanting to shut out the words he’d just heard. He shook his head and rubbed his hands over his face and realized he really needed to relieve himself. His face grew hot. “Um, I need to…” He glanced at the toilet.
Gideon held up a finger and stood. “Hold that thought, Finn left a urine sample cup here. We need to test it to figure out which drug you were given.”
Sebastian felt queasy again. Of course, Gideon had called his doctor brother to come help the drugged unconscious stranger in his home. Muttering a few choice expletives under his breath, he waited on the floor feeling humiliated beyond belief. When Gideon returned with the cup, he squatted in front of him and held onto the cup when Sebastian went to take it out of his hand. Sebastian looked up, his eyes questioning. Gideon reached out and rubbed his thumb over Sebastian’s bottom lip, effectively freeing it from between his teeth. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Sebastian pulled the cup from Gideon’s grasp and averted his gaze. Gideon stood, giving him space. “After you get a sample in the cup, there’s a paper bag on the counter you can put it in and some fresh towels in the linen closet just there.” He pointed out the closet and headed toward the bathroom door. “Go ahead and get a shower if you’d like. I’ll grab you a shirt of mine to wear. Your pants and shoes were brought up by one of my guys, along with your hoodie and your wallet from the locker. Take your time. I’ll be in the kitchen making some breakfast. Come out when you’re ready.”
With that, he was out the door and Sebastian stood awkwardly, holding the sample cup and staring after Gideon in consternation. His stuff was brought up, meaning what, that they were above the club? Sebastian shook off his confusion, knowing he wouldn’t get the answers he needed by standing in the bathroom. He took care of the sample and took the proffered shower. He scrubbed himself raw, knowing that he’d need to ask Gideon for more details, but wanting to rid his body of any possible residual traces of the asshole that had apparently drugged him.
When he was done, he toweled off and checked the bedroom to be
sure it was empty. He knew Gideon had already seen him naked—that ship had sailed—but if he could avoid the further humiliation of baring his naked, damaged ass yet again, he might trick himself into believing he could keep his dignity somewhat intact. He walked into the empty bedroom and found his clothes, as well as a shirt and some boxers of Gideon’s on the bed.
Forgoing the use of Gideon’s things, because then he’d have to wash and return them—and let’s face it, stringing along his humiliation for days wasn’t on his wish list—he pulled his pants on slowly, unable to avoid the tight jeans rubbing against the raw skin of his ass. He pulled on his socks and boots and then donned his hoodie, zipping it all the way up, covering as much skin as possible.
He ventured out of the bedroom into what looked like an enormous, open floor plan loft. He smelled freshly brewed coffee and what he thought were toasted bagels. Crossing his arms over his chest, he approached Gideon, who was smearing a bagel with cream cheese in what Sebastian could only call the most masculine, modern kitchen he’d ever seen; all clean lines, glossy blue lacquer cabinetry, and white quartz countertops surrounding stainless steel appliances. He glanced around the rest of the enormous room, spying the elevator and right next to it, the stairwell.
Gideon surveyed him, his perusal feeling strangely intimate, his eyes finally raising to meet Sebastian’s. “Feeling better?”
At Sebastian’s shrug, Gideon lifted the knife he’d been using and quirked a brow. “Hungry?”
“No. Thank you.”
Pointing the knife at the bar stools, Gideon resumed his task and then poured two cups of coffee, assuming correctly that Sebastian would sit as expected. Gideon placed one of the coffee mugs in front of him and stood opposite him. Lifting the bagel, he speared Sebastian with a look. “Take anything in your coffee?”
Sebastian shook his head and wrapped his cold hands around the mug, studying the aromatic brew and avoiding the man’s gaze. Taking a deep breath, he plunged ahead, knowing that if he was going to make a quick escape he needed to know what happened. “How did I get here? And where is ‘here,’ exactly?”
“Well, this is my loft, obviously, and I carried you up here from my club.”
At that, Sebastian jerked and coffee sloshed over the edge of the cup, burning his skin. He managed to hold in the hiss that wanted to escape, but it was close. Carried? From his club? Jesus fucking Christ. Taking a deep breath, he shook himself out of his daze and managed to murmur an apology about the mess. Leaning over the bar, he grabbed a paper towel, wiping his hand off and then the countertop. Stuffing the trash in his pocket, he looked up when Gideon’s soothing voice broke into his thoughts.
“Sebastian, are you okay?”
Tucking his hands in his lap he nodded and said, “Yes.”
“You’ll call me Sir, boy.”
Chills worked their way from his hairline to his toes and shivers followed close behind. His face grew warm as he nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Better. Come.”
Sebastian walked around the island and watched as Gideon turned on the tap. “Run your hand under the cold water.”
Sebastian did as he was told, some of the pain receding. The hair at the back of his neck stood on end as he felt warmth at his back. Gideon reached into his pocket and pulled out the dirty paper towel, tossing it into a drawer beside the sink that was apparently a trash can. He reached around Sebastian and gripped his wrist, removing his hand from the water to turn it this way and that. Sebastian held his breath as Gideon’s chest brushed against his upper back, barely any space separating them.
Gideon’s hold was gentle, as he moved Sebastian’s hand back under the water. And another shiver went through Sebastian as Gideon leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Better?”
Sebastian nodded and cleared his throat as shivers wracked his body again. Jesus, did he have to give himself away so easily? “Y…yes, Sir.”
“Good. You need a refill?”
“No, Sir.”
“Grab your coffee and sit at the table so we can talk.”
They both sat, catty corner to one another, and Gideon dove into his explanation. “My club manager, Roarke, called me to the Interrogation Room, which is where he’d found you with a man he’d never seen before. You’d bumped into him and he’d watched you head into that room and checked up on you. He felt uneasy about your reaction times and how your interactions appeared from the double-sided mirror.”
Sebastian let go of the coffee mug and put his hands in his lap where he could fidget nervously without an audience. Gideon continued, “When I got there, I didn’t like the look of the man. He was angry and you weren’t responsive. We entered and got him away from you, realized you were unconscious, and called the cops to come get the guy.”
Gideon glanced down at the table, under which Sebastian’s hands had formed tight fists which were shaking. He tilted his head at Sebastian and asked, “Are you all right, boy?”
“Yessir,” he responded, quickly without thought.
Gideon’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t question Sebastian further. He continued, “Apparently, he was a visitor of one of the members. I contacted my security company and had them look at the video from the moment you arrived, and the moment he arrived, until we found you. He slipped something into your drink at the bar and then proceeded to get you downstairs and into a room. He was pretty rough with you, from what I understand, so you might have some bumps and bruises. I got you off the spanking bench and carried you up here. Finn came by and checked on you. You had low blood pressure so he stayed until around four a.m. when it finally stabilized. He slept on the couch, and I was sleeping on the floor in my room to keep an eye on you, but you had a couple nightmares and I tried to sooth you. The second time, you held on pretty tight when I tried to leave, so I slept on top of the covers beside you.”
So he was the one that had inched closer, until he’d practically rubbed himself all over the man. Great. He wasn’t sure he could take much more humiliation. He looked down at his lap as his face heated, yet again. “I’m sorry I…um, groped you while I was asleep, Sir.”
Sebastian’s head popped up when he heard a snort, his eyes widening when he saw the grin on Gideon’s face. “You’re a class A snuggler. I’ll give you that.”
“Jesus,” he muttered as he scrubbed his face with his hands and then pushed his chair back, thinking now would be the time to make his escape; before Gideon revealed anything else that might put the cherry on top of his mortification sundae. Before he could stand, Gideon’s hand was warming his knee.
“We still have things to talk about, boy.”
Jesus, that voice was going to do him in. He let out a slow breath, shoulders sagging. “Yes, Sir.”
“With the urine test and the video that I got from Zavier—”
Sebastian’s dismayed exclamation cut into Gideon’s explanation. “Zavier? He saw the video footage?”
Gideon’s eyebrows raised. “Yes, Sebastian. We’re taking this very seriously and Custos, my brother’s company, provides the club’s security. He was notified immediately that something happened at the club. He’s not going to leave it up to his team when his family is involved.”
Rubbing his hands on his jeans, Sebastian nodded, all the while cringing inside. He swallowed reflexively. Could things get any worse? Oh wait… “So, you saw the footage?”
“Yes. Are you all right?” The pitying look Gideon gave him nearly sent Sebastian running for the exit again but he stayed put, clenching his shaking hands together under the table.
Sebastian answered by rote, as he always did when someone asked if he was okay. “I’m fine, Sir.”
Gideon looked like he didn’t believe him but continued, regardless. “All right, well I wanted to make sure we had the proof you’ll need, so I watched it to make sure we had everything.”
Sebastian’s voice broke on his response. “The proof I’ll need?”
Gideon’s voice was deep and soothing, as if he was try
ing to calm and encourage Sebastian at once. “To press charges.”
Sebastian’s mind blanked. “Charges.”
“Yes. The man drugged you and assaulted you, Sebastian. He needs to be held accountable.”
Sebastian’s heart was beating so hard he thought it might burst through his chest. He shook his head. “I… I don’t…”
Gideon leaned forward and pulled Sebastian’s clasped fists into his hands, slowly unwrapping each finger from their death grip. He leaned his elbows on his knees and held Sebastian’s shaking, sweating hands in his, rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs. “I would strongly encourage you to press charges, Sebastian. He shouldn’t be able to get away with what he did and move on to another target.”
Gideon paused, and though Sebastian’s eyes were squeezed shut, he could feel Gideon’s gaze on him. “I can’t order you to press charges, boy. We have no contract and you’re not mine to influence, at this point. Though, after talking with Roarke about your situation, I think you and I have some things to discuss. So, we’ll leave that possibility open for now.”
His situation? Nope. That was the last straw. He could take a lot, but discussing a pity contract was the last thing he ever wanted or needed to discuss with anyone. Jesus how had things gone so wrong? Tugging his hands from Gideon’s grasp, he stood. He shook his head and forced his voice to be calm as he stared at Gideon’s chest. “No, thank you. A discussion isn’t necessary, Sir. But I’ll think about pressing charges.”
With that he turned and made a beeline to the stairwell door he’d spied earlier. He ignored Gideon when he called his name not once, but twice. When he got to the door he put his palm against it and stopped, turning slightly toward Gideon but still avoiding his gaze. “Thank you for helping me last night.”
He unlocked the bolt and swung the door open, escaping into the stairwell and down the stairs at record speed. Once he was out on the sidewalk, he started off in the direction of a coffee shop he’d seen down the street from the club, placing a call to Lyft for a pick up on the way.