by Jack L. Pyke
“C’mon, baby,” whispered Jack, hand now on Jan’s ass and encouraging the contact, the heat as he lifted his hips up to meet it. “Fucking c’mon. It’s okay.”
Jan cried out, and Gray smiled into the darkness hearing Jack’s name fall from Jan’s lips. Vince could compile a list of cock and ball torture to stop that call of name, but he couldn’t touch that natural instinct between two lovers who were missing each other. Jack didn’t follow Jan’s release; he knew this was for Jan and he held on to him, not letting him go, and fully focused on what tore through him. There’d been no penetration, no slip of cock against cock; Jack still wore his boxers, Jan his swimming shorts, but tonight, this, it hadn’t been about penetration, it hadn’t been about sex. It had been about two lovers learning that it was okay to fall and scramble around holding on to each other.
Eventually, Jack’s chuckle drifted over after Jan’s quiet search to finish Jack off was met with nothing but gentle kisses. “Still can’t stand up over here, Gray.” Breathing was heavier, thick with fading lust. The light came on and Jack and Jan both hid in each other against the onslaught.
“Not my problem,” said Gray, going to where a punch bag hung from the ceiling. Seeing them there, just in the come-down of those first tentative touches together, he needed focus away from the floor, so badly.
“Not—” More shuffling about; bodies slumping back on the floor. “Still not fucking funny, Gray.”
Gray kicked the punch bag, hard, not listening to the sounds, blinding himself completely to the sights, let alone the scents, playing around the hall. At some point Jack and Jan managed to stand, and Gray carried on his kill of the punch bag as Jan said something over to him, then headed for the shower, Jack lingering to clean up the floor. It took Jack a while, more than long enough to force Gray to break a sweat, and as Jack came over, wiping away the excess oil and looking every part ready for scurrying into the shower and crying unclean, Gray caught the punch bag and rested his head against it, trying to ignore the state between sated but not yet fucked look going on with Jan and Jack.
Jack came in close, pressing into Gray from behind. A touch found his hip, then brushed down, tracing the fine cut of trouser and all to come to rest at a place where Jack really shouldn’t be touching. Giving a nibble at the back of Gray’s neck, Jack was then in his face, easing him around as he was backed up to the wall. A long lick came at Gray’s throat, collarbone to jaw, and nips were given. Jack slipped the belt buckle aside, then was undoing the clasp to Gray’s suit trousers and easing down the zip.
Jack was still hard, Gray there with him now as hips fought for a connection after Jack tugged Gray free. “So close,” mumbled Jack. “You’re getting so close to wanting to fuck with us, mukka.” And he glanced down as he pulled his own cock free then wrapped a fist around both. It took Gray’s breath, feeling the heat and length of Jack’s cock against his. Then there was Jack’s hand....
Gray eased his upper body back onto the wall, then cupped Jack’s neck as he widened his stance. He took control of the pace, keeping Jack’s hand still as he covered Jack’s touch with his own. He needed the release now, and his hard fuck into Jack’s hand was that release point.
“Fuck...” Jack still looked down, that frown to his face as he shifted Gray’s shirt aside to get a better look at the play. Gray hadn’t wanted him to move just yet, loving the denial of full play to Jack’s cock and the need to shift and move against Gray. But as he pulled Jack in for a kiss, only living with the memories of body against body hit hard....
Gray bit at Jack’s lip as he came, needing something to stop his own cry but fuel the one Jack called out into his kiss.
“Fuck... fuck,” breathed Jack on his own release. For a moment Gray was still lost to causing friction between their cocks, his grip on Jack’s ass making sure he stayed close. He bit at Jack’s neck, shivering against the fading release, and Jack came in, arms going around Gray’s waist, hips still moving and shifting so cocks shared a mix of come and perspiration on damp abs.
“Fuck.” That last one came from Gray.
“Oh yeah,” said Jack, hands gripping at Gray’s ass. “You’re so close to fucking me on a full playing field, mukka.” He got a kiss to his neck that only stirred more shivers, and Gray sighed a smile into Jack’s throat. He loved the taste of salt and hint of oil that he found there on the toned curve.
“You’re not helping my hard image here, Jack.”
“Yes, I am,” came the soft reply. “You need seducing”—a kiss at his jaw—“loving—fucking....”
Gray gave a soft chuckle. “You started off so well there, Jack.”
“Pillow talk.” This time his kiss lingered on Gray’s lips. “I know you love it.”
He was gone for a moment, leaving Gray with Jack’s presence on his body. But Jack came back a moment later with a damp cloth and towel, and Gray stood there leaning against the wall with a soft frown as he watched Jack take such care and attention over wiping him clean. Three times he washed... wiped... and Gray said gently, “Happy?”
Jack offered a shy smile. “Just about.” He’d already cleaned himself down.
“Only twice since I’ve known you,” Jack said quietly, “have you asked me to trust you. And I remember the first....” A bite came at the dampness lining Gray’s throat. “Trust and respect.” Another nip, then a brush of lips. “You have mine. Always. You never have to ask, mukka.”
Gray shifted, just slightly. Breathing heavy, giving a smile, he said, “Come fight with me.” He needed distraction, he needed a release. Not what Jack was asking for, just... release.
Standing there in boxers, oil still visible in places, Jack scratched at his neck, cast a glance at the punch bag, then frowned before turning away, towel and cloth in hand.
“Hey,” said Gray, gently pulling him back. “Talk.”
Jack looked at the punch bag, then found Gray again. “Just... I’m going back to work in two days, okay? I discussed it with Halliday at our last session.” said Jack, but he was skirting around what bothered him. Gray could tell in how he avoided any contact with the punch bag.
I’m trained and he’s not... I’m a fourth Dan, for god’s sake. Gray eased off, remembering Jack’s words as they’d stood in the reception hall over six months ago. Jan had escaped Vince’s rape; Jack hadn’t, and those grey eyes of Jack’s as they fell away from Gray spoke worlds on just how much all of his martial art skill hadn’t made a blind bit of difference.
Jack went to turn away, maybe to go and hide. Then something seemed to stop him in his tracks. He gave a look down at his hands, what he held, then startled Gray when he came back in close and wrapped his arms around Gray’s neck.
“That shit scared me, okay,” he mumbled, then a kiss was stolen from Gray. “I can’t get through a night without knowing for sure that someone is watching; and I’m scared I won’t be able to fight if something does happen. I check the surveillance an hour after you go to sleep every night, mukka, just making sure people are where they say they are.”
Gray had known that. Ray had told him.
Jack dipped his head into Gray’s throat. “When it came down to it,” he said, “it didn’t matter. All the training... the Dan grades....” A tight grip went into Gray’s hair, making sure all focus was levelled on Jack. “But this does.” Jack’s free hand wiped along Gray’s jaw, and Gray instinctively let his touch find Jack’s hips. “Won’t forget that again. So much to fucking make up for, and I swore I’d start with ordering my thoughts better than my sock drawer and telling you what hurts.” The frown there was torn. “And fighting scares the fuck out of me, mukka, especially you. Please don’t ask me to fight you.”
Gray frowned at the intensity. They still hadn’t spoken much about Jack’s time in the psychiatric unit and what he’d remembered. But Gray did remember the last time he’d fought with Jack, what it caused, but any thought of even broaching the subject was stolen from his breath with the kiss and such a long taste of Jack
. Jack tongued him deep, and Gray let himself return the heat, just for a moment, a moment’s weakness before he reined it in again.
As he pulled back, so did Jack, and the dirty smile Jack gave didn’t help. “Oh yeah, you’re getting so close to fucking me, all right, mukka.” Jack brushed the back of his hand against Gray’s jaw. “And I’m glad you kept this.” Stubble grated against the gentleness of his touch. “I’d do the bastard, then hold the man for a lifetime afterwards.” And he was heading for the shower.
“Jack,” said Gray.
“Hmm?” Jack glanced back.
“Don’t face the door tonight. Look at Jan as you hold him; let him look at you.”
Jack smiled down at his feet. “Yeah,” he murmured, then cast a look at where the oil had touched wood floor. “I heard you the first time, mukka.”
Gray followed his look for a moment. “You serious about going back to work?”
Jack scratched at his head, maybe not looking so serious now, but needing to be. “Yeah.” Awkwardness was in his stance. “Think it’s about time I let Sam and the guys play pin the tail on the nut job.”
“They were told nothing.”
“Maybe,” and there was a look there that said Sam would have dragged the intel out of Steve somehow. There was that shrug again off Jack. “I know, though.”
Gray went over and took the cloth and towel off him. He knew how they’d play on his mind if he kept hold on them for much longer. “You spoken to Jan about it?”
Jack nodded. “Oh yeah. He took a swim. A hard one.”
Ah, thought Gray. “Surveillance will be there. It is with Jan.”
Jack went to say something, but then just came back over for another kiss. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For tonight. For Jan. For...” That dirty smile again. “You.”
Then he was gone, still managing to nearly slip on his way out and shout back, “Still sexy doing this exit here, right?”
Gray laughed, then waited until Jack left, and went over to the intercom. “Ray.”
Quiet. “Here, sir.”
The darkness through the windows and the long look into the woods took his attention. “Change in surveillance rota in two days’ time. What we pre-arranged. You run a check on every make and model that pulls up at Jack’s garage.”
“He’s aware he could be being watched?”
Gray knew he’d upset someone with denying the meeting this morning, but probably more so over Elena. It just remained to be seen who’d crawl out of the woodwork first, considering neither Rachel nor Andrews had pulled intel from Reignfold himself.
“I know he could be being watched. Jack knows how to play safe. Jan, not so much. Just make damn sure they both stay sane.”
“Will do.”
Chapter 11
The Uninvited
Logan Keal sat in the passenger side of the recovery truck, watching the reception door to the garage as a customer came out holding keys and juggling an MOT certificate. From what his sources had told him, Harrison had been at work for the past five days, but Kes had texted and told him to wait, to not rush in.
Despite the rain, the four long roller doors spreading the width of the garage stayed open, allowing cars to be pulled in or out on finishing a job and leaving wet tyre marks in their wake that the mechanics seemed oblivious to. Added to the woman in reception who was talking to a customer, roughly ten employees worked the cold and damp. A radio played somewhere in the distance, not loud enough to disturb the nearby units or the customers to the garage itself, but enough to fill the clatter and clamber of air guns, rising and falling ramps, and the occasional rattle of engine hoist as it was manoeuvred in to help handle the bulk of the latest workload.
The car he’d used was attached to the recovery truck, a Jaguar, sleek silver grey and rarely prone to cutting out. Another mechanic had timed it to do just that today, along with using registered plates that would trace back to a lovely family who lived on the outskirts of London. The weather itself was important: it had mostly stayed dry over the past month, only offering a light drizzle. He needed it heavier. As harder and larger patters hit the window screen, threatening a bruising as well as a drenching, Logan grabbed his umbrella from by his feet, ignoring the dirt on the bottom of his jeans he’d caught from waiting by the roadside for a recovery truck. That could be traced too. Which he figured would be happening now with the black Mercedes that sat in the corner of the car park. As he glanced over from his hooded Mackintosh, the Merc windows were tinted, hiding the occupants he’d been warned were concealed inside.
Easing the door cab open, he let the black umbrella and hood of the long Mac jacket protect him from the worst of the rain as he got out and said his thanks to the driver. He was looking out at the rain, his look saying shit wasn’t worth a soaking just to unhook a Jag. Leaving the recovery man to it, Logan checked his hood against the rain and pulled the umbrella down a little closer when a gust of wind tried to drag it away.
He kept his walk brisk, and the push through into Harrison’s reception area offered a warmth he didn’t expect. A brief smile was offered from the pretty receptionist as he rested the wet umbrella away from the door, but kept his hood up. A dispenser of hands-free antibacterial wash slept just a few feet away, and he frowned at it as the last customer brushed past him, nudging him slightly. Shouldn’t the hand wash be kept on the work floor? Seemed strange to him.
“Sorry, mate.” A man looking heavy enough to need a winch to tug him out of his car was talking to him and Logan focused.
“No worries.” Logan offered a smile and saw the larger man’s features ease slowly. After waiting for the door to close, he headed over to the reception desk.
“Hey...” The name tag on the receptionist’s blue blouse said Sue, and she was the sort he’d shut his nightclub door’s to in order to walk headlong into Happy Hour. “Sue. I’ve—”
The door came open behind Sue and another man eased through from the back, carrying two coffees. Obviously Logan’s charm was slipping, seeing Sue move over by the other man, grabbing at a mug and saying thanks while ignoring him.
“You should have gotten Sam to do it, Aid,” she said and Aid jerked a look back as though expecting something to come bounding through.
“Nah. I’ll skip that, thanks. He’s—” Aid glanced over and Sue seemed to remember there was a customer.
“Apologies,” she said, bringing her coffee back. “It’s not looking good out there.”
Logan offered a smile back, almost envying her hold around the cup. She had warm-looking hands, good enough to cup cold balls and bring some life to them. “My Jag broke down,” he said, shifting and pointing a thumb back the way he’d come. “I was wondering if Mr Harrison could take a look at her for me.”
He saw Aid sneak a look over his mug, then start punching some keys on the computer. “He has a job on at the moment.” Aid took a sip of his coffee. “Do you want to leave your keys and come back later? He’ll be about two hours.”
“The recovery truck’s just brought me in... I... do you mind if I wait?”
“Sure,” said Sue. “Take a seat and I’ll get you a coffee.”
He’d noticed the coffee machine in the corner, but this was an offer of a proper mug from the back. Maybe his charms were working after all, or, with the warm smile she gave, it was just that he looked so sad being soaked. “Thank you,” he said to her before he turned and took a seat on the comfy leather bench. “Ah.” He glanced back before he managed to sit. “Can I have a word with Jack, at all? He knows this car and asked me to let him know how she handled the suspension from last time.”
Glancing over, Aid took another sip of coffee. The look was too long, too probing, and it only further set that anger bubbling beneath the surface. Why were so many protecting this bastard? But it was Sue, not Aid, who answered.
“I’m sorry, Mr Harrison’s just working on the shop floor for a few weeks. Mr Carter is manager.” She nodded back to Aid. “I’m sure he can help wi
th any issues you have.”
Yeah, he was warned they’d close shop. Logan pulled out a business card instead. It wasn’t fake. “Could you just give him this, please?” He handed it over to her. Aid reached it first and offered a small smile.
“I’ll take that.”
“It’s just...” Logan tried a smile and gave a scratch at his roughed-up hair under the hood of the Mac. “It’s like with a barber: I trust the same one I always use.”
Aid nodded and put his coffee down. “Okay, I’ll hand it over and see what Jack says.”
That was all he needed. “Thanks.” He took a seat as Aid pushed on through to the shop floor. The door was timed to shut with the minimal of noise, and he cast a look into the main garage floor to see Aid work his way to the far end and tap someone on the shoulder.
A look was given down at the business card, then back over into the reception.
Hands were washed once, then again, Aid standing there and watching too, then the business card was taken from Aid just as the door shut.
“Here.” Sue came over and handed Logan a coffee. He took it, welcoming the warmth as the door from the shop floor through into reception was pushed open again.
A small smile was offered over, then Jack—Logan had seen the photo, there was no mistaking that this was Jack—went over to the reception windows and twisted the cord on the blinds to let in some of the fading light. Jack wore blue coveralls, and where Sue would have good hands to warm a cold pair of balls, Jack had a look to tie them up and torture them for a few hours. Both looking good enough to whisper a quiet morning to as he woke in bed next to them.
Only Jack didn’t look so friendly. But then, Logan guessed, his look wasn’t exactly morning, love either.
Jack ran a touch along his jaw, giving whatever sign he needed to the black Merc sitting outside.
That was fine; Logan only needed a few minutes to do this before Raoul came in.
“Upstairs, yeah?” Jack eyed him up as he moved over to a door next to the reception desk, and held it open, waiting for him to take the hint.