Backlash

by Jack L. Pyke

  “It’s getting on for nine, Jack.” Jan looked back at the painting, then frowned at the door. “Gray’s got work in the morning, I’m... I’m...” Gray felt the brush of thumb at the back of his hand from Jan. He wanted out, and that touch was Jan giving a very polite stop this please.

  Jack flicked a look at Gray. Shifting black hair from his eyes, he pulled Jan into him. “You tired, breakdown? You know, whether it’s here or a nightclub, doesn’t really matter. I can just as easily get you some hot cocoa topped off with marshmallows. Spider-Man pyjamas... big bunny slippers to flop around in?”

  Jack got an elbow in the ribs and he winced, rubbing at the fake damage as Jan finally found a chuckle. “Funny. This taking the piss thing you rely on, Harrison? Stop it,” said Jan.

  Jack flashed a grin. “I was being serious.” He winced. “Which is slightly concerning, considering the thought of loving you in Spider-Man PJs is twisted, even by my standards.”

  Gray eased a touch along Jack’s slender hip as he moved in close to Jack’s ear. “He needs home, Jack.”

  Closing his eyes, Jack brushed his cheek against Gray’s and Gray resisted the natural instinct to shift and let him touch. All too easily the instinct finally won over, and Gray nudged back at Jack’s cheek, asking... needing to be intimate, if only for a minute. Jack shifted a touch and Gray eased the hair from Jack’s neck and feathered a kiss into the curve of his throat.

  “Hmm.” Jack sounded distracted. “A 9:00 p.m. precise call to bed. Showing your age, mukka,” he said, finally looking down and patting at Gray’s stomach.

  “So said the old guy in his thirties now.” That came off Jan and earned a thin smile from Gray.

  “Carry it on siding with him, Richards. He’s old. I’m—”

  “Yeah, an adult,” said Gray, pulling away slightly. “Say it often enough, throw a bit of pixie dust on it, take off your tights, and it might just help you work some magic on your street cred, Jack.”

  Jack lowered his look. “I don’t wear fucking tights... they’re... man stockings, under my coveralls, and there to keep my bollocks warm when I’m under a car, on the floor.” He’d taken to wearing them lately.

  “Yeah? You order via Amazon or have a particular ladies lingerie section you prefer?” asked Jan. “And how many pairs do you have ordered in rows in your drawers?”

  “One, maybe three.”

  “Hah! Got you, Jacky boy.” Jan’s look darkened.

  “What?” said Jack.

  “Nothing.” A slight blush burned Jan’s cheek.

  Jack levelled a finger. “That head of yours goes anywhere near fucking tights, high heels, and a satin skirt....”

  Jan’s smile deepened at about the same time as his blush turned blood-red. “Just a thought,” he said quietly.

  “Oh well... thoughts.” Jack slid up close to Jan and slipped an arm around his shoulder. “Tell me more about these... thoughts.”

  How Jack played Jan like this, and how Jan bit back, was good to see. But the smiles and playful gazes didn’t quite reach “normal”. Gray saw it in how Jack called it a night now and headed back over to the stairs after kissing at Jan’s cheek.

  “Boring fuckers,” Jack shouted, sounding light-hearted enough, and Gray almost smiled. Go back seven months, he’d have fucked that mouth out of Jack, with Jack calling him out on doing just that. And yeah, the temptation would have been there to pull Jan a little closer and corrupt his vanilla look, fuel that need for them both to fuck Jack.

  Only they’d both been held in the wrong hold, disjointed and broken down where only echoes remained. Gray was in that mix somewhere. A part of him hated himself for it, for how stepping into the public eye beyond MI5 had him wanting to close the door too.

  That put his Master Dom skills just where in all of this shit?

  Gray hid in the silence that fell. Jan seemed happy enough to study the painting again, and Gray stayed with him, his hold a little closer now. “C’mon,” he said, eventually tugging him away. “I’ll let Brennan know it’s a no for tonight.”

  “Yeah,” mumbled Jan, glancing over his shoulder. “Sounds good.”

  Jack was right; Jan looked good in suit trousers, casual T-shirt, and jumper. He smelled even better. Go back five months, Jack hadn’t been able to stomach Jan being so close, not without throwing up. Care in the psychiatric unit had helped Jack face that, and the soft smile touching Jan’s lips said he’d caught how Jack had taken time to breathe him in, but still he paused now, waiting for Jack to go up to bed first, making all that soft heart slip and falter.

  He’d follow, as he did now, but it was at a slower pace. Closer to Gray, farther behind Jack.

  As Gray pushed through to his master bedroom, only the en suite bathroom light made its way into the bedroom, arcing over the pale carpet as the sound of Jack taking a shower drifted over. He was finding comfort in some old routines, sometimes more so than even Jack’s OCD levels would deem normal, but they both let him find them.

  Easing a smile back at Jan seeing him look for Jack, Gray went over to his bedside unit and started unclipping his sidearm. He liked to sleep naked as a rule and pull whoever shared his bed in close, skin on skin, but lately his sidearm was kept closer. Jan glanced over, and the focus on the gun said he needed Gray to keep it closer. Jan had kept the full security of the Masters’ Circle, with a few MI5 ops thrown into the mix when he’d had to travel long distance, and his home had been kitted out with full CCTV and panic buttons. It gave him every security, but just how well had he coped of a night when he was alone? Jack hadn’t been alone, not where he’d been, and Jan’s long gaze at Gray’s firearm cried every hate and hurt at the longevity of those dark nights spent alone.

  Another fuck-up on his part. He knew that.

  With how Jack always ducked into the spare room to change and put on pyjama bottoms over the past month, echoed by Jan now, Gray also covered up, opting for black silk pyjamas himself. Jan’s were cotton, and the soft soul was only left shrugging a smile at the barrage of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles doing battle over them. Another birthday gift from Jack. Apparently. “No Spider-Man?”

  “Hey.” Jan’s blush was deep. “He’s on about buying you a pair,” said Jan, pulling back the covers when Gray failed to make it obvious just how he needed to... burn some artwork of his own right there along with Jack, if Jan mentioned that again.

  “Okay,” said Jan, laughing softly as he got in bed. “I’ll have a word in his ear. Try and get him to go for the BDSM badass option.” Jan’s life faded a touch, his smile petering out, and giving a frown, he pulled the covers up over him, now facing away from Gray. Gray couldn’t put the comment in context, but after hanging his clothes for dry cleaning, he went over and brushed down the length of Jan’s arm. “You all right?”

  “Hm,” mumbled Jan, already fighting the pull of sleep and losing.

  “I’m going to check in with security,” said Gray. “They will have had time to oversee any reports, then I’ll be back. Try and get some sleep.”

  Jan nodded, or tried to at least. Then as Jan faded, Gray didn’t realise he’d delayed moving, opting for another brush of hand down Jan’s arm until Jan shivered.

  Somewhere along the line, you fell in love with him, didn’t you?

  Gray frowned, the confusion from Jack as he’d said that to Jan unsettling life around him again.

  Over the past year, Jan had slipped in between him and Jack, barely noticed. “Gentle Jan” Gregory had called him. Only not when it came to Jack. Not—“So loving, Gray. Jack just wanted to hide, to stay close. Not tough, not so fucking tough. And Vince said he answered all of that tenderness by raping him with a fucking baseball bat...”

  Never when it came to Jack.

  Jan had caught such a horrific backlash sleeping between them. Did Jack know what Jan was capable of? That he’d smashed into Vince’s jaw, shattering bone, and wouldn’t have stopped hitting? Would Jack close his eyes to that too?

  Gray refused t
o. Part of him liked that Jan wouldn’t crumble, but the bigger part hated just how much he’d corrupted Jan’s look without even knowing it. But—

  Somewhere along the line, you fell in love with him, didn’t you?

  Gray let his touch linger just a moment longer there on Jan’s arm, then left him to the sound of the shower playing, and eased the door shut behind before going into the hall and hitting the intercom. He made a call to Brennan first, letting him know to shut things down at the nightclub. With security, they reported nothing out of the ordinary. Ed would be back around 2:00 a.m. from Mrs. Booth’s; perimeter control was in place in case Jack slipped into old habits and went “walking”, but other than that... nothing.

  Yet still the sidearm slept close to hand.

  He headed back through to the bedroom and water hitting tile still sang in the air. Gray looked at his watch before slipping it off. Jan was asleep, the soft rise and fall of his chest giving him away. Jack had been in the shower for twenty-five minutes now, and Gray frowned over towards the half-open bathroom door and the steam breathing through it.

  Keeping his footfalls light for Jan’s sake, he went over, needing a shave. The rough stubble look he’d taken on lately wouldn’t go unnoticed at Thames House tomorrow, and he rubbed at it as he buried a yawn. As he pushed on through, black granite tile was cool under foot despite the heat off the shower, but he barely felt it as he noticed Jack.

  Stood by the unit, hands resting either side, Jack was looking at something in the sink. Gone was his sleeveless V-shirt, but he still wore his black suit trousers, feet now bare too.

  Gray glanced at the shower. Towels had been laid out, along with a neat row of Jack’s assortment of shower gel, shampoo, and soap. He’d usually use each a couple of times, repeating, rinsing, repeating. But all stood closed and unused now.

  He looked back over his shoulder to where his watch usually rested on his bedside unit.

  Twenty-five minutes.

  Christ.

  Going over to Jack, Gray rested his hands on the slim, toned hips, then let his head find the back of Jack’s. “You here with me, stunner?”

  Just the patter of water fell on tile and Gray slipped an arm around Jack’s waist. Nothing came, forcing Gray to shift his stance, get in closer, pull Jack back to him, breathe some life into the ghost, then—

  “’M here, mukka.”

  Jack’s voice sounded slurred, muted, as though he was talking after a heavy night drinking and was trying not to show it. He’d had nothing but coffee tonight, and Gray caught Jack’s shiver, his fall back into sync with life.

  “Easy,” said Gray, quietly.

  Jack dipped his head, his grip on the edge of the bathroom unit whitening his knuckles.

  “Screwed that shit up with the nightclub, huh?” he mumbled, and Gray frowned, keeping quiet. “Jan didn’t need tonight. He’s so fucking tired lately, just wanting to sleep... and... I forced it, tried to push him back to normal and... shit,” said Jack, and he met the grip Gray had around his waist, almost holding on for fear of losing his grip on everything else in life.

  “I’m gonna fuck this shit up,” he said softly. “I’m gonna fuck it up, fuck him up, fuck you up, then you’ll—they, they’ll drag my ass back and drug me up to my bollocks again. Stupid, so fucking goddamn psycho-bastard stupid.”

  “Easy.” Gray shifted slightly, searching for something from one of the drawers. He found it after only a minute, and as he held out a Polaroid photo, he made sure he lifted Jack’s hand with his. There were times when Jack wouldn’t think twice about “going casual” with this photo, then there were these moments, where he’d stare down, eyes ghosting, taken back to—

  “Listen to me,” Gray said quietly, his other arm pulling the coolness of Jack’s body against his. “There’s no rules to say you can’t fuck up. It’s going to happen on all sides.” Gray nuzzled gently at his shoulder. “So we talk, we listen, we fuck up, we...” Gray slipped the photo in Jack’s hand, then rested his under Jack’s, keeping Jack’s grip steady on the photo. “We learn to let go as best we can.”

  Jack sucked in a breath, then let the photo fall, go casual, and an instant ease of tension came in his shoulders. The photo landed out of alignment with Jack’s and Jan’s neat rows of cologne, all out of place and sequence to them. It should have driven Jack wilder or sent him screaming into the darkness to hide from Vince’s psychological reconditioning, to stop him doing this and taking comfort in the most simplistic of routines. But this was his way to cope, his OCD comfort zone, his way to control the chaos.

  He just needed reminding sometimes.

  Gray kissed at his shoulder again. A moment later, Jack eased around, his arms slipping around Gray’s waist as he came in close. Gray shifted his head as Jack nudged there, not to claim or play, just... stay.

  “His pace,” Gray said quietly, kissing at Jack’s exposed cheek. “Yours. But time, you both still need—”

  “Hey, things,” breathed Jan. “It’s okay.” He stood over by the door, arms wrapped around himself as he leaned against the doorframe. Jack saw him at the same time and a kiss feathered Gray’s lips. In the next breath, Jack eased his way over to Jan and slipped both arms around his neck to tug Jan in close.

  “I get too mouthy again over going normal, you call time out, okay?” he muttered, adding a big sigh. Jan pulled back a touch, frowning, but Jack tugged him back in. “Time out I can hear, Richards. Time out gets through to my fucked-up thoughts, but you need to state it clear, okay? And don’t be afraid to tell my ass no.”

  The worry on Jan’s face eased a touch. He kissed Jack back, then looked over Jack’s shoulder. Gray flicked a look at the photo, how Jack had needed to drop it casually on the unit, and Jan nodded slightly, understanding the silent call on another absence from Jack, then it was lost as Jack took his hand and led him back to the bedroom. Jan got back in bed, and Gray didn’t offer much protest seeing Jack slip in between the covers next to him, still wearing his suit trousers. Jack had stopped doing naked too, his reason branded hard into his side.

  This was the second absence in two weeks. Jack was struggling with the change over from the psych unit to being back here and losing his own terraced house. But that had been taken into account, one of the reasons why Gray was grateful Jack had decided not to go back to work straight away and only visit the new apartment Jan had arranged for Jack. But at least Martin had stayed away.

  With how Jan looked as Jack settled, something in Jan’s eyes seemed grateful of that too. Life needed to stay calm for them both. For all of them now.

  Chapter 4

  Incitement

  One Month Ago

  All but two of the men filtered out of the smokers’ lounge with a mix of cigarette smoke and the more refined blend of the King of Denmark cigar lapping at the leavers’ heels.

  Kes sat there waiting for life to call quiet, ignoring the other man and how he sat low and deep in a leather recliner. Peter Sallows carried out business by his pseudonym, the Funder, but Kes had never cared for how easy it was for a rich man to call the shots simply by putting his hand in his pocket. No class.

  Not with whom Sallows waited for.

  Kes took a deep breath in and held the fading cigar scent, allowing the residual to bore hard into his organs. He hadn’t smoked in years, so this was his way of... managing the habit, no matter what social status he inhaled. Flawed effort, he knew that, but he might as well at least look as though he breathed next to the suit-wearing pack. No one had questioned his attire: jeans, T-shirt, scuffed trainers, and a messy green padded jacket that didn’t distract from the week-old stubble, but then few would look in his direction for too long. A different skin colour had that way with some people. Most would settle for looking behind his back, checking to see if he carried a rucksack, or if there were signs he might have abandoned one close by.

  The same couldn’t be said for the late teenage boy who was guided into the lounge at that moment. A blindfold kept his vie
w of the world dark, and although jeans and a plain white T-shirt touched his slender frame, top brand names were visible on both. The young man wore no shoes, no socks, and from underneath the blindfold, wiring found its way into the hidden MP3 player no doubt sitting in his pocket. Blinded and deaf to the world, he still shifted his slim hips to the hard beat of the music, adding a lip sync here and there as he was guided over to Sallows.

  Money bought the best around here and, as encouragement, made the teen kneel between Sallows’s thighs; it also bought silence and a hunger as hands and mouth blindly sought to smooth the wrinkles from an older cock.

  Still the music seemed to play, but now the rhythm down the man’s shaft danced the late teen’s worries away.

  Kes looked away. Sallows had become too comfortable with his company, but then money assumed it could buy silence from the best. Tapping his fingers on the polished wood of the mahogany conference table, Kes drew one leg casually across the other and eased back into the comfort of red leather, ignoring the sights from the other end of the lounge.

  Today hadn’t been a good day, the touch on the back of the teen’s head that demanded a hard blowjob merely mimicking the aggravated heartbeat. Impatient unease and that inability to control temper also matched the rest of the high-paid clientele that had left the lounge. The need to speed up action lately had irritated Kes certainly, but other than that, he’d let the mode of conference get their say with barely any interruption on his part, other than a nod when lips moved in his direction.

  Throughout the questioning, three movies played out on as many flat screen TVs to his left, each movie a favourite of Sallows’s; each one remembered for its script even though no sound choked the lounge. Kes hadn’t wanted them flicked off as men young enough to be his son filed out. He preferred the silent company of the images to the disappearance of money.

  The black and white scenes took him back to a time when life had been less complicated. Boring even. Yet the silence of these particular movies almost, almost had life injected with a certain colour to slip life back into gear.