Lost in the Echo

by Jack L. Pyke

  Elliot was gone then, off into the crowd, leaving James testing the motorbike out, and Will frowning down at his feet.

  “James, I’m just going for a—” Will shifted his head towards the toilets. “—y’know.”

  James kept peering down at the opposite side of the bike. “Hmm. Sure. Whatever. Just don’t run off.” James waggled his eyebrows. “Dude, I know where you live.”

  One last warning look for James to grow up, Will made his way through the crowds of people and headed on over to the restrooms. There was a throng of men inside, vying for space, and Will got a sympathetic tap on the elbow off a guy in a wheelchair. The man had just come out of the disabled toilets and he thumbed behind him. “If you’re quick, you can catch the door before it closes and go in there.”

  Will looked back into the men’s room, then at the closing door. Hating himself for it, Will slipped over by the disabled toilets and winked his thanks to the guy in the wheelchair. He took care of business and washed up, resigning himself to the fact he was going to have to dip into his savings as soon as he walked out the door. But James wasn’t spoilt; as a matter of fact, this was the first time he’d set his heart on something and asked. Most of it stemming back to his days with his parents and getting more than the odd bruise for his troubles. Will couldn’t stop the sadness in his smile. It was good he was asking, or trusted enough to ask. Will would have given him anything he called for just to get him to ask.

  After giving his hands a good wipe, Will grabbed his wallet and pulled open the door.

  The wallet was pinched from his hands, and Will was forced to back up a few paces as Elliot came into the disabled toilet and closed the door behind him. He wore black jeans, boots, a shirt that was always pulled out in a throwback to his school bully days.

  Elliot started looking through Will’s wallet, and he offered a smile. “See your dinner money’s improved over the years, Chambers.”

  Will held his hand out, and Elliot, cocking a brow, flipped the wallet shut and slipped it in his own back pocket.

  Will eased into a smile. “Think you’re funny?”

  Elliot stepped closer, slipped his arms around Will’s waist, then gave a hard sigh as he rested his head against Will’s. “I’m pissed off, and that makes me cranky.” He pulled back, and Will found he was looking up into a gaze that said “pissed” didn’t even come close.

  Elliot shifted and pulled his mobile from his pocket before holding it up for Will to look at. “Switched yours off, hmm?” he said, and Will held the steady gaze. His phone wasn’t exactly off, but it was in the glove box to his Rover. “Don’t ignore me, Will. That really does piss me off. And I thought you told me you had private tutoring booked for today?” Elliot threw his mobile on the side, then let his hands find Will’s ass. With a gentle tug, Will’s hips dug into Elliot’s, causing chaos and friction. Always chaos and friction. Giving an uneasy sigh, Will slid his hands up Elliot’s arms, feeling all the stress and tension as Will rested his head against Elliot’s.

  “Will, just be straight with me when you want time out with just you and James, yeah?” Elliot breathed quietly, then a kiss brushed Will’s cheek. “I’m a dad too, y’know. I understand.”

  “A pissed off and cranky one, and one that used to pinch my dinner money, lock me inside the stationary cupboard, piss my girlfriends off, then throw stones at me when you let me out of said cupboard.” Will offered a frown, topped off with a smile. “I’ve grown up with your twisted version of understanding, Matthews.”

  Elliot chuckled softly and Will found it naturally spread to him as he smiled.

  “Yeah, well. You dodged most and spent the rest of your time running away from me.”

  “You can be scary when you’re pissed off.” Will slipped his arms around Elliot’s neck and Elliot stole a kiss. Control was hard to hand over in the bedroom, especially with the history that came with this man, and yet he trusted him like no other between the sheets, and away from them now. They played for a moment, bodies that had been on slow burn since they’d untangled from each other last night didn’t take long to run into the danger of throwing any sense of control right out of the restroom window. Thoughts of bare skin on bare skin, hardness on hardness— it took Will every ounce of his soul to not strip Elliot bare and press him up against the wall.

  “You stole my dinner money,” breathed Will in between his kiss, and Elliot choked a chuckle that seemed to rattle down into Will’s bones.

  “You stole my soul first,” whispered Elliot, then pulling back, an edge came to his eyes. He slipped his hands into Will’s jeans to feel his ass. “Beg me for your money. You do, I might— might just let you have it back. I get to keep your soul, though.”

  “Hm?” Will kissed at the nape of a soft neck, nipping, marking, but he’d started to shake and Will found he was pushed away to allow Elliot’s gaze to search his.

  “What?” Elliot brushed at Will’s cheek, taking away a runaway tear. “What’s this?” He took his hand away, then traced down to one of Will’s and held it.

  “Christ, Elliot.” Will went in close again, his forehead resting hard against Elliot’s, their lips almost touching. “I can’t lose him.”

  “Lose who?”

  “James.”

  “What? Why would—”

  Will closed his eyes. “Him and Ryan. They’re seeing each other.”

  Elliot pushed him away a touch. “They’re what? James is…” He already knew about Ryan, like Will did.

  Will wiped a hand over his face. “Elliot, you should see how they look at each other. It’s us, but without the wasted years.”

  “Okay.” Elliot gave a deep, hard sigh. “We can work this. It’s not unworkable.”

  Will let out a laugh, but it was cold and a little horrified. “Make it work? Do you realise how fucked up this is?”

  “Will—”

  “Do you… ah.” Will turned away and ran a hand through his hair, wanting so bad to cry out the injustice of it. “Social Services.”

  “Wait, what?” Elliot screwed his face. “James is seventeen. Social Services—”

  “He’s in full-time education, Elliot.” Will tried to force control, but he was close to losing it. “They’re involved until he turns eighteen. I could lose him if they find out about this, this—”

  “This what?” said Elliot, his voice now flat, looking so much like the Elliot he’d grown up with.

  “This father-father, son-son shit. What the hell do you think Social Services’ first reaction will be?”

  “I don’t give a fuck about anyone else but us four. And I don’t live in the dark ages anymore, neither do Social Services. Trust them.”

  “And Ryan… James? How do you think they’ll feel knowing we sleep together?” Will screwed his face at how Elliot cocked his head slightly, now thrown back in time to the boy who tried to voice his feelings but only ended up throwing stones. “Elliot—”

  He pulled away as Will reached out. “You tell them, Will. You let them decide.”

  “I tell them, it will be because I’m letting them know we’re over.” Will hated the words coming out of his mouth. He killed part of himself right along there with Elliot in that moment. “They deserve a chance.”

  Will instinctively covered his ears and ducked slightly as the phone that had found a safe place on the side ended up in Elliot’s hand one moment, then smashed up against the door and crying murder on the floor the next. “And we don’t?”

  “We—”

  “Fucking trust them, Will.” Elliot pushed at Will’s shoulder. “James idolizes you too much to not let you have some happiness.”

  “That’s… that’s so fucking easy for you to say, Elliot. Ryan is your son. You won’t lose him like I could lose James.”

  Now Elliot took a step back and gave a cold laugh. “So, what? Little Will Chambers does what he always does, huh?” Elliot came over, in Will’s face. “He hides his face from the trouble, hoping it will all go away as he whisp
ers Hail Mary for his sins and says fuck to anyone who cares about him?”

  “I care about James.”

  “I fucking love you.”

  “Stop.” Will knew the natural fit of the body against his now. Knew the skill with language and voice manipulation. “Elliot, for God’s sake, what the hell are you doing to me?” He fought his grief and failed miserably. “I lost him. I still lost him—”

  The blindfold was pulled roughly off, forcing Will to blink against the onslaught of light, then hands gripped either side of his face as Elliot cried out and rested his head against Will’s. There was six months’ worth of grief in those brown eyes, but also so many more years of not loving, of not allowing himself to love. “Christ, Will, you never even recognised my voice; you’re that fucking lost in the echo of his.”

  All grief, reasoning, and ability to control mind and body crumpled; the relief of knowing who held him, the chaos of being held by him, of dinners and talk at the 1725 bar… every emotional struggle over the past few days eased off him but left him dizzy and numb at the same time. “Why… what the hell are you doing? I lost… I fucking lost, okay?”

  Elliot forced Will’s head back, stretching his throat, then kissed along it. Tentative, just soaking up the grief, and his touch was so familiar and honest, Will’s body reacted with natural instinct alone. There’d always been safety when Elliot bound him down, and a part of him called so desperately to be lost back within it, to be lost to everything else that hurt.

  “You lost how to feel,” Elliot murmured against the bites. “I lost everything else. So now I’m taking what belongs to me and making sure the father in both of us walks away having felt something other than hurt.”

  Elliot traced a touch down between Will’s thighs and stroked along the heat and hardness he found.

  Tears streaked Will’s cheek, dampening the pillow as he turned his head into the pillow.

  “Christ.” Elliot sounded so distracted. “When was the last time you came, Will?”

  “Elliot.” Will yelled out, then tested the rope and dug his heels into the bed, needing to be out from under Elliot. Then life twisted into the land of confusion with how his body only sought out Elliot again as if recognising the missing link and needing to heal and move in one heated mass. Elliot swamped Will’s body with his own, hands slipping underneath Will’s bound arms to pull him into a hard grind of hip. Clothed cock on bare cock collided, rubbing, shifting, creating a dampness that only offered a smoother, more refined ride. Fingers dug into Will’s shoulders, claiming, digging, lip and nip chasing Elliot’s jaw, stirring shivers down the length of Will’s body. Elliot’s own clothed bump and grind of his hips into Will’s naked body had Will high on everything that was Elliot, that had always been Elliot. Heat and hardness, pissed-off sex that only seemed to end in Elliot convincing Will everything about them being together was right.

  “Would it be so bad?” Elliot breathed into his ear, and he followed it with a bite to the tender lobe. “If I took you now, like this—” Elliot’s hands traced along the ropes, then found Will’s bound hands, holding him down. “—would it really be so bad if I fucked you like this, Will? Christ. Let me fuck you like this, and you can hate me in the morning.”

  Almost hiding in the curve of Elliot’s neck, Will ignored the dampness from his eyes. His grief came so easy, and for a few moments, just a few moments, he didn’t want to feel it. He wanted to let Elliot’s body soak it up like it promised.

  Elliot gave a hard bite to Will’s neck, hard enough to bruise, and Will groaned, half in hurt, half in something else. Then Elliot kissed his way down over Will’s chest and Will threw his head back as rough bites came at a bud. Elliot seemed to instantly calm his control, teasing a slower kiss down Will’s abs, all to kiss just below Will’s navel. As a slip of tongue tempted his cock, Will struggled to get his hands free. This one time, he didn’t want Elliot’s control, he didn’t want the binds. He’d been tied down so much and now he just wanted to touch, cry yes to every scar Elliot kissed open, and let him know he wasn’t alone. Elliot seemed so alone.

  Will cried frustration.

  Elliot had always seemed so alone. Unable to articulate his feelings and as much trapped within language barriers as he was held captive by its beauty.

  But he was right there now, shifting up and kissing Will roughly, taking a breather at times to whisper how everything was okay. It wasn’t, but it didn’t seem wrong to pretend just for a few moments. Will returned the heat, drawing on Elliot like a lifeline to the living, and he moaned at how right the crossover felt in the exchange of cold breath.

  “Christ, Will.” Elliot settled into the curve of Will’s throat, but kept Will bound. “The things you do to me.” There was a slight lift of Elliot’s hips, then Elliot freed his own cock and Will caught his breath feeling the trace of wetness of Elliot’s tip as he crushed their hips together.

  “Missed this so much.” Elliot bit at Will’s throat. “So bloody much, baby.”

  A nudge of head pushed against him, slicking him up, then Will cried a touch as Elliot pushed inside. Will bit into Elliot’s shoulder to bury everything else that slammed into his body in the next instant. Still that angry, pissed-off roughness with sex, but still that lock of arms around him, holding him tenderly against the onslaught. Will took every drive into him, every punishing blow that dampened his body, and despite how Elliot’s dig of fingers into Will’s back threatened to tear Will apart as much as his cock, the whispers from Elliot were so first-time tentative.

  Will dug his heels in, using whatever freedom he had to arch up into each thrust, and yelled out his need to come. Elliot beat him to it, one long, deep slip of cock held inside Will as Will gripped onto the ropes and felt each pulse of come. Elliot started the same pace again during mid-orgasm, pushing Will over the edge until he cried defeat as well. Then hearts were left to pound against each other in the come-down, and Elliot relaxed everything he had into Will.

  Arms aching from the ropes, and his head thumping its own beat with there lease his body had been allowed, Will frowned feeling dampness against his throat. Elliot was still cuddled in, but now it was more in a different defeat.

  “Elliot?”

  Giving a sniff, Elliot lifted his head only to press their foreheads together. “You kill me, Will. Every fucking time.” Will went to speak but a hand pressed against his mouth. “My transfer over to Oxford starts next week, and…” He shrugged and a tear fell. “And I need to leave all this—” The hand was replaced with a brief kiss. “—all this behind.” He gave an angered sigh. “I’m sorry, for everything: for the past few days, for not stopping Jay walking out that door.” His frown hurt. “The stones.” He nodded. “I’m sorry for throwing the stones too. But for twelve months, although for most nights we hid over at 1725 from the two people we most cared about and tore them apart through it, for twelve months, I got to taste you.” His eyes hardened. “And I won’t ever be made to feel fucking ashamed of that.”

  Elliot shifted and pulled something from the drawer. “But you haven’t answered my question, and you need to think long and hard, Will,” he said. Will’s whole body stiffened seeing a syringe. “What didn’t you tell James?”

  Will frowned.

  “The university has my details for the police if you go down that path.” He looked so angry. “I’m hoping you won’t, but then after this—” Will whimpered as the needle was pushed into his arm. “I wouldn’t blame you, baby.”

  Life went very heavy, his arms now more like deadweight, and Will fought the drag down into the murky depths. “Elli…”

  A kiss feathered his cheek. “Get some decent sleep, Will. You look like you haven’t slept properly in months and…”

  Whatever was said, Will didn’t catch it; he’d never even noticed when the chair had stopped creaking and the Voice had left them alone. He only felt how cold everywhere felt without having Elliot there.

  CHAPTER 8

  TOUGH LOVE

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nbsp; Everywhere was shadowed in darkness and, for a moment, Will lay there, feeling the dread of shifting his body and testing out his muscles. He wasn’t quite sure why he needed to test his muscles out and see if he could move without wincing from any stiffness; his head sat in the middle of a fog that refused to shift with the breeze playing on his body, but a deep part of him knew he should be trying to move. Elliot—

  He stilled.

  Elliot.

  He tugged at the rope, and it took him a few seconds to register the feel of it around his wrists and feet were purely locked in his head, like the feel of a wedding ring he’d had on for years, yet still felt the presence of even when it was removed. The contents on the bedside unit spilled on the floor as Will struggled to twist up and out of bed, then blindly fumble for a light source. He needed to know where he was, to ground himself in a visible place. His fingers brushed a switch just close to the unit, and he flicked it on, blinking against the soft onslaught of light that came from the wall-mounted lights.

  His wall mounted lights.

  Hand running through his hair, Will did a slow intake of his spare bedroom in the cabin. The ropes were still tied to the silver frame of the headboard, the foot restraints there at the bottom. The black rocking chair was new and—

  Will groaned, nearly doubling with how sick he felt. Two things. It had only taken two new additions into his home for Elliot to displace and disrupt his perception of his own home: a blindfold and a rocking chair: a constant moving, creaking chair. Will stared long and hard at that chair, hating everything it represented. All his shame, his gullibility, his fears.

  It took him only a few seconds to cross the distance and hurl it at his balcony doors. At first all it did was thud against the glass, but two more gave the glass a single crack, then a fourth— fifth? Breathing heavy, Will stood watching glass settle as the chair lay trying to crawl out onto the decking, away from him.

  Clothes came first: jeans, shirt— shoes, then Will was limping downstairs. In the grunted hunt for his keys, Will went quiet when his laptop caught his attention. The screen had gone to standby, leaving an eerie wave of aurora light sweeping the darkness of his kitchen. Seeing his car keys on the table top, Will made his way over, his grab at them distracted by the laptop. His touch to the mouse shifted things into life, but it wasn’t his usual desktop background he saw that the simple words “You’re welcome” blinked back at him, followed by an arrow pointing to the left-hand corner of the screen. Will followed it down to see his USB still slept in the port. Clicking on the folder, Will set the muscles tensing in his jaw.