Semblance

by Chris E. Saros

  “What did I say about talking?” Scotty said, using his hand to push Drake back against his desk.

  Feeling the edge press against his thigh, Drake let himself fall back, pushing anything that would encumber him onto the floor. He landed awkwardly, with his bound arms behind him not allowing him to lie flat. But Scotty didn’t allow him to shift into a more comfortable position. Instead he followed him down, pressing him even farther into his awkward position, crushing their mouths together.

  Drake’s shoulder’s protested against the rough straining they were enduring, but he ignored their complaint. He might feel the residual effect of it tomorrow, but that would just serve as a reminder of what they were doing today.

  He had never been dominated before. Anytime he’d had the opportunity for power play in the bedroom, he had always just assumed the role of dominant, but now, with Scotty taking the lead, immobilizing his arms and taking what he wanted, Drake couldn’t think of any reason to object.

  Drake’s body arched as Scotty’s lips moved from his mouth, to his chin, down his neck to his collarbone, and then down to a peaked nipple. The helpless moan that escaped Drake’s lips turned to a yelp of surprise when soft wet lips turned to teeth and gently nibbled his hard nub.

  “Oh shit, that’s good.” Drake sighed, shifting his body to press more of himself against Scotty. He tried to touch him, to pull him closer, but tight fabric around his shoulders reminded him of his place. He fought against it tentatively but stopped when Scotty lifted his head and placed an admonishing finger on Drake’s lips.

  “Uh-uh,” he said tracing Drake’s lips with the pad of his finger. “You aren’t in charge here.”

  Drake opened his mouth, allowing Scotty entry. He followed his finger with his tongue, sucking him, but he wanted more. He arched his body up, rubbing himself along Scotty’s hardened erection.

  “Please,” Drake whimpered as Scotty moved back. He fought to keep their bodies pressed together but stopped when he realized Scotty wasn’t pushing away, instead just moving enough to reach Drake’s fly. His breath released in a whoosh as Scotty simultaneously undid his pants and rubbed him through the rough fabric.

  Not soon enough, he was free and his pants were tangled around his ankles, caught on his shoes. He whimpered again as Scotty pushed himself back and off the table. He moved to follow him, but Scotty’s hand on his shoulder pressed him back down.

  “I just want to look at you.” Scotty stood back, taking in the view. Drake could imagine what he looked like, draped over his desk, his own clothes used as bonds, helpless and desperate for more. The indisputable look of longing on Scotty’s face only added to the image, and Drake struggled to keep himself on the desk where Scotty wanted him.

  “You are so beautiful.” The words worked their way into Drake’s ears and rested in his chest, where he felt them warm him considerably. Jesus, he had never expected to feel anything like this.

  Finally, Scotty quickly finished undressing himself and came back to Drake. He crawled up on the desk to straddle him, their cocks knocking together, making Drake jump and crave more.

  Leaning down, Scotty trapped their leaking dicks between their bodies, rubbing them along each other and along both their bellies. He captured Drake’s lips with his once again. Then in a tangle of movements, Scotty pulled at the fabric holding Drake’s arms at bay, maneuvering it down until Drake could fling it away and finally use his arms to pull Scotty closer to him, crushing their bodies together.

  They continued to rut against each other, a tangle of limbs and deep moans. But after being held back for so long, Drake couldn’t resist any longer. Pushing his hand between them, he grabbed their dancing cocks. Scotty shuddered as he used his fingers to trace along the head to gather some of the leaking fluid. Then he gripped them both together and started jerking them off.

  Drake’s movements sped up as his body tensed, preparing for release, and Scotty, unable to hold off any longer, convulsed through his own release as Drake followed closely behind.

  Scotty collapsed back down across Drake’s chest. They lay there, each working to catch their breath and regain their strength.

  “Holy shit,” Drake said with a laugh. “That was some of the best makeup sex I’ve ever had.”

  Scotty grinned, his head still resting on Drake’s chest. “I’ll say. I don’t know if I can move yet.”

  “Yeah, but—” Drake shifted, reaching behind him, trying to dig something out. He pulled out a spiral-bound notebook and threw it to the floor. “That has been digging into my back.”

  “I guess I should let you up, huh? Anything else digging into you?”

  Drake shifted his weight from side to side. “I think there’s a pen there somewhere too.”

  Snorting out a laugh, Scotty pushed himself up so he could regain his feet. Once he was up, Drake sat up and rubbed at his back where two pens, a sticky-note pad, and a letter opener had all made indents. Miraculously, the tissue box Drake kept on the side of his desk was still there, so he pulled out a couple of tissues to hand to Scotty, then a few more for himself.

  “I probably should, um, see if I have an extra shirt in my car,” Scotty said, putting his pants back on and then slipping his arms into his shirt.

  Drake stood, pulling up his own pants, buttoning them as he approached Scotty. He reached for Scotty’s shirt and felt along the placket, smiling at the spots where the buttons should have been. Using the material as a lever, he tugged Scotty, who stumbled into him. Their bare chests bumped together.

  “Hi.” Drake smiled, their lips a breath width apart.

  Scotty flicked his tongue over Drake’s lips in a wet nuzzle. “Hi,” he replied as their eyes firmly met.

  “I think that maybe we should take the rest of the day off,” Drake suggested, his voice wavering in a way that completely gave away how totally turned on he was.

  The corner of Scotty’s lip lifted. “And how exactly would we explain that one?”

  Drake shrugged. “Well, I’m the boss and do whatever I want, and you, well, you aren’t dressed appropriately for work, so I had to send you home.”

  Scotty scoffed, almost pushing Drake away, but Drake didn’t let him, holding him close. “As if anyone would believe that!”

  Laughing, Drake buttoned the few buttons left on Scotty’s shirt before brushing their lips together. “Okay, fine, you aren’t feeling well.”

  Scotty pressed their lips together once more. “That’s more like it.”

  Their kiss was slow and explorative. They didn’t need to be rough, fast, and passionate. Instead they explored each other and enjoyed the feeling of warm lips and wet tongues.

  “Come to my place?” Drake asked, reluctant to create distance between them.

  Scotty pressed a hand to Drake’s chest, pushing him back, not far, but far enough that he could look at him. Scotty’s eyes searched his. “You’re sure?”

  Drake returned his gaze, not allowing the panic in the pit of his belly to expel into the rest of him. It was too late to turn back now. Scotty couldn’t un-know anything he already knew, but maybe if he understood the danger he was in, then he would understand why Drake needed him to keep his distance.

  “I want you to,” Drake said not breaking eye contact. “I think maybe it’s time for you to know what’s going on.”

  The words sounded even and sincere as he said them, but Drake could feel the uncertainty lying underneath. Once the truth was out there, once Scotty saw what was actually going on, he would realize he couldn’t be a part of Drake’s life, that it was too dangerous for him to be involved. But even though days ago Drake had been able to let Scotty go—it had hurt and he’d felt miserable but he’d been able to do it—now he couldn’t imagine Scotty walking away. Their relationship had grown in that short amount of time, and Drake wasn’t sure if he had the strength to let it go.

  Chapter 16

  DRAKE MESSED around with the things scattered on his desk. He had been sitting there for the last t
wenty minutes, which had felt like an eternity, as he watched the clock tick away the seconds. And even though it felt like torture and wasted minutes that he could be spending wrapped around Scotty, he had to do it. They were playing it like a covert meeting, like you used to do in school when you’d meet in the bathroom for a quickie. Scotty left first, pulling on a jacket that Drake had stashed away in the back of the office to cover his gapping placket. He would go out and tell the girls that he had to go home because he wasn’t feeling well and he’d cleared it with the boss. Then after he left, Drake would make a point to make some rounds, make sure everything was hunky-dory, then follow Scotty out. They’d meet back at his place, and since Scotty had to take the train, Drake would probably beat him there even though he was leaving later.

  He couldn’t keep the stupid grin off his face; he felt like such a schoolboy. He was playing hooky with his secret lover. It was such a clichéd and overused concept, and he would have laughed at anyone who had ever dreamed of being in such a situation. But now that he was experiencing it, it wasn’t all that bad. In fact, he would even go down as saying it was downright sexy. The anticipation alone was driving Drake up a wall, but add the secrecy to it, sprinkle on a little danger, and it was all Drake could do to keep from running out the door and speeding all the way to his condo.

  He could control himself. He just needed to wait another five minutes to be sure Scotty was gone before making his rounds. He passed the time by fiddling with the items on his desk, smiling idiotically at the notebook that had only an hour earlier been digging into his skin hard enough to pull him out of a very nice afterglow. Using his nail, he plucked along the spiral, imagining that he could still feel the heat of their bodies embossed in the metal.

  God, he was being such an idiot right now. But didn’t he deserve it? Didn’t he deserve just a little taste of a normal life? One-night stands had been his only relationships, that and whatever the hell he and Natasha had shared, which still confused him and kind of grossed him out at the same time. He’d thought that was the only type of relationship he would ever have, but somehow, Scotty had drifted past that mark, and even though Drake had tried to keep him away, Scotty remained. It was probably too much to hope for that they could get through this and stay together. Maybe Scotty would have to go away and hide for a while until Drake finished what he had to do, or maybe Drake’s life would catch up with him and he would get dragged down along with the cartel and end up in prison. Maybe Scotty would be waiting for him at the end of each of those scenarios. Maybe he would be at his side.

  Uh! Drake pushed his chair back and stood. He had to get out of this office. The sex was obviously messing with his brain, making him a romantic when he had no right to be.

  He glanced at the clock. Okay, an acceptable amount of time had passed for him to go out and make his rounds. Gathering up a few of his things, he made sure to grab his keys before heading toward the door.

  “Drake!” The voice came from behind Drake, surprising him. He jumped and turned toward the back door to see Jacob struggling his way through with a very saggy, very heavy, very bloody Frankie leaning against him. “You aren’t wearing your earpiece again!”

  Drake ran for the door, pulling one of Frankie’s arms over his shoulder to help guide the man into the building. “What the hell happened?” he shouted, and they pushed open his office door and headed into the back room to lay Frankie down on the table that only weeks earlier had supported Hyde.

  “Some dumbass junkies, that’s what happened,” Frankie gasped as he positioned himself on the table more comfortably.

  Drake looked around for something to help stop the blood flowing from Frankie’s shoulder. He grabbed some paper towels off a rack and pushed the entire roll in the general area, hoping it was enough to at least curtail the blood flow.

  “Jacob, go get some of those towels from the storeroom,” Drake demanded as he searched for other wounds along Frankie’s body.

  “On it,” Jacob said, jumping to action.

  “Did anyone call Doc?” Drake asked, using his hand to put pressure on another wound lower on Frankie’s abdomen.

  “He’s on his way!” Jacob shouted back as he hurried out of the back room.

  As soon as they were on their own, Drake met Frankie’s gaze. The man was bleeding out, but he still looked like one mean motherfucker. Drake had no doubt Frankie could still beat him down, even with only a portion of his blood intact.

  “Jesus, Frankie! We’ve gone years without this kind of mess and now we’ve had two in just a little over a month? What the hell?”

  Frankie coughed and a speckle of blood landed on his cheek. He winced against some pain, and Drake noted that his teeth were pink from blood in his mouth. Drake frowned; it had to be coming from his gut wound, which meant the bullet had probably nicked something vital. Hopefully Doc wasn’t too far away. Drake didn’t know much about anatomy, but he figured blood in the mouth wasn’t a good sign.

  Shit. He was not cut out to do this.

  “Listen,” Frankie said, trying unsuccessfully to pull Drake down by his shirt. Drake leaned closer. “Something isn’t right. We’ve got a snitch. You gotta tell Tony.”

  The words were like lightning through Drake’s nerve endings. He could feel the blood draining from his face, even as his knees took a small dip from a sudden weakness.

  Shit, shit, shit. It was over—they knew, if they were onto him. He was going to be the next person to die in this room. They knew, they…. Wait.

  “Every time, Boss Man. Cops are there every time. Not right. Money’s missing, cops are there. Not right.”

  They knew, except they didn’t know. Frankie wasn’t accusing him; Frankie was warning him, telling him to pass it on. They had a mole, but they didn’t know who.

  Drake’s strength returned to him at that realization. They didn’t know it was him. He was still okay. Maybe not for long, but that just moved up his timetable. They might find out soon, but they didn’t know yet.

  But Drake stopped his inner monologue. He hadn’t called in any tips for the cops since the drug house and Willy. He hadn’t had anything big enough and worthwhile enough to risk the exposure, so he hadn’t made any calls. That meant that someone else was calling in tips. There was someone else working behind the scenes to bring down the cartel.

  “Cops everywhere and not the ones on the take,” Frankie gasped out. He arched against the pain but then lay back again as if he were just resting.

  Drake shook his head. “Who could it be?”

  Frankie shrugged with a grimace. “Could be anyone.”

  “Doc’s here!” Jacob called as he came rushing back into the room, followed by Doc and one of his assistants. “You still alive, Frankie?”

  Frankie coughed with what Drake suspiciously considered a laugh, and his tense shoulders relaxed. If Frankie was keeping his sense of humor, then maybe he wasn’t as far gone as Drake had thought. Maybe now that Doc was here, Drake wouldn’t have to witness another death in the back room of his office.

  Drake stepped back to give Doc and his assistant space and looked down at the blood on his hands. It still made him light-headed to see his fingers caked in the deep red fluid, but this time he wasn’t panicking about it. This time the blood didn’t mean death.

  Chapter 17

  WHEN DRAKE’S car lights flashed over Scotty sitting on his steps as he pulled in, he automatically felt his nerves begin to calm. He hadn’t been sure if Scotty would still be here waiting. It wasn’t until he saw him sitting propped against his vestibule that he realized how much he had been looking forward to him. No, more than that, needed him.

  Drake parked, and before he had his doors unlocked, Scotty was there. With shaky hands, Drake opened his door and stood. Scotty had come to meet him, most likely planning on continuing into the next chapter of what they had started at the club, but as he took in Drake’s blood-splattered clothing, he stopped.

  “What happened? Are you okay?”

 
; Looking down at himself, Drake nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, I’m not fine, but I’m okay. Or….” Drake swallowed, then finished. “It’s not my blood.”

  Scotty’s face was a mask of concern, his eyes wide and brow raised. He reached like he wanted to touch Drake but pulled back at the last second as if unsure.

  This would be the telling point, Drake thought. If Scotty freaked out and ran, then there was no way he would last in this game.

  “Maybe we should, uh—” Drake gestured toward his front door. “—finish this conversation inside? If you want, I mean.”

  Drake swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure what he wanted Scotty’s answer to be. Of course, he wanted him to come in so they could talk and explore their relationship a little further, but he also wanted him to cut and run. The best thing that could happen for Scotty would be for him to throw his hands up in the air, say “fuck it,” and book it out of there as fast as his feet could carry him. But just the thought of him leaving made Drake’s guts feel as if they were being twisted.

  Scotty took a step back toward the door with a hesitant smile. “Um, yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

  With a sigh of relief mixed with grief, Drake unlocked his door. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he pulled his shirt off, careful to make sure the blood spatter didn’t touch his face. After wrapping the shirt into a ball, he walked into the kitchen and threw it into the trash. Even if he could get the stains out of it, he would never be able to wear the shirt again anyway. The shirt he’d been wearing when Hyde had died had been burned, just in case, but with Frankie on the mend, Drake felt it was safe to just trash this one.

  Scotty followed him silently. He didn’t say anything as Drake threw his shirt into the garbage, and he didn’t say anything as Drake pulled a bottle of scotch from a corner cabinet and filled his tumbler.

  Drake pointed at the bottle, asking if Scotty wanted any, but of course Scotty refused. Shrugging, Drake put the glass to his lips and let the liquid burn its way down his throat, warming his entire body as it made its descent. Drake drained the glass, poured just a finger more, and capped the bottle. Then with glass in hand, he turned to Scotty.