Black & Blue_A M/M Standalone Romance

by Ily Jacks

  “I need a job,” I blurt out. “Something legal.”

  “By legal, do you mean with a paycheck and paying taxes?”

  Fatigue clouds my ability to follow his question. After too long of a minute, I shake my head. “No, I mean I don’t want to hook or sell drugs. That kind of legal.”

  “Will under-the-table work be legal enough?”

  I nod, and Declan’s expression makes me think he already has something in mind.

  “I get up at eight. We’ll talk then.”

  Declan doesn’t tell me goodnight or kiss me again. He walks out of the room, and soon, I notice lights shut off until the only one is next to me. I turn on the small TV hooked to the wall before switching off the light. Crawling into bed, I sigh with relief.

  I never have a moment to think of how I arrived at this moment. The hot shower, meal, and two Tylenol leave me desperate for sleep. Once I close my eyes, they don’t open again until sunlight streams in around the window’s dark shades.

  ♂◈⊙◈♂

  My body is in a world of pain when I sit up, and I barely make it to the bathroom. The mirror reveals the stark damage from the night before. Black and blue bruises cover my hips and rib cage around to my back. No doubt I have them on my legs too, but I decide I’ve seen enough and lower my shirt.

  The clock reads seven, so I shuffle into the kitchen where I find more meds and a drink. Returning to the bedroom, I try not to get too attached to the comforts in this place. With my luck, I’ll be out on my ass soon enough. No way am I lucky enough for Declan’s kindness to last much longer.

  Resting in bed, I half-watch the local morning news while praying the meds kick in. My mind races in the way it couldn’t last night. I have nothing to my name—a cellphone with barely any minutes left, zero cash, no driver’s license, and only a tenth-grade education. I’m in a new city where the only person I know is a hulk of a man who’d rather share his apartment than his name.

  Despite Declan helping me out, he’ll soon want something in return, and I doubt it’ll be as appealing as kissing him. No, people always help me by taking more than I can offer and leave me running into the arms of the next asshole.

  After my mother ran off, her brother took me in rather than have me end up in foster care. Except he wanted me to make him money. When that situation turned to shit, I got involved with Leto. Now I’m hiding from his wrath. I’ve never had a family member or friend who didn’t find a way to screw me over.

  I draw shitty people to me, and I’m too weak to expect more from them. If I fixed myself, I might get ahead in life, but I’m always running from one problem to another without any chance to improve.

  Still a hopeless dreamer, I wonder if Declan will be different. He’s certainly not like anyone I’ve ever met. People normally ask lots of questions to feel someone out. They don’t normally trust strangers enough to let them sleep over without worrying about being robbed or killed. Declan no doubt sees me as a dumb kid, unable to harm him.

  His kiss felt possessive, making me believe he’d demand more. Even if he wasn’t sexy as hell, I’d give him whatever he wanted if it meant a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and safety from Leto. Last night, he expected nothing else from me, but I probably looked like shit anyway.

  Dozing off to ugly worries, I awaken painfully when Declan bangs something at the door.

  “Rise and shine,” he says, poking his head into the room. “Get cleaned up while I run out and grab breakfast. Coffee is perking.”

  Then he’s gone from the doorway. I hear him close the front door and then hear the faint sounds of his Harley roaring to life in the alley.

  Another hot shower helps my bruised body but not as much as the meds already did. I've dressed in the sweats and tee again when Declan returns twenty minutes later. Once he enters, I pour us coffee and set the cups on the small table I can’t believe is meant for more than one person.

  “There’s a donut place a couple blocks over that makes great glazes,” he says and drops a pink box on the table. “Normally, I’d walk over but looks like it’ll rain again.”

  “Thank you.”

  Declan sizes me up and exhales loudly. “You look like shit.”

  “I feel like shit.”

  “It’ll pass.”

  “I know. This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten my ass handed to me.”

  “Good.”

  I don’t know how to respond to his comment. Declan ignores my silence and grabs a donut from the box.

  “Are you allergic to dogs?” he asks with a mouth full of food.

  “No.”

  “Good. My ex-wife kept my dog the last few days while I was out of town, and she’s bringing her over later.”

  I glance around, wondering why there’s no dog paraphernalia around. A deeper part of me reacts to the word “ex-wife.” I shouldn’t be bothered by the thought of this man once married to a woman. What does it matter to me? He could have made a move last night but mostly acted as if I were a child needing protection. Well, except for the best kiss of my life. A straight guy doesn’t kiss another man the way Declan did, so what’s the deal?

  “You were married?” I say rather than keeping my big mouth shut.

  “For ten years. We have two kids. A boy and a girl. Real nuclear family there.”

  “What happened?”

  Declan chugs a glass of orange juice before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His gaze holds mine, and I sense he’s amused.

  “We wanted different things,” he finally says.

  Grabbing a donut, I eat half of it while working through my situation.

  “Why are you helping me?” I ask, keeping my gaze on my coffee cup.

  “When I was sixteen, I ended up on the street. Not a lot a person can do at that age unless someone decent gives them a shot. A guy came along and helped me out. He’s my club president now, and I owe him my life. When I saw you last night, you reminded me of me from back in the day.”

  “You’re paying it forward,” I mumble, finally forcing my gaze to his.

  “Something like that.”

  Thinking about the kiss last night, I ask, “You know I’m not sixteen, right?”

  “I know, kid. Your state ID was in your jeans back pocket that you ditched in the sink. Tired or not, you need to watch your shit better.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m not your dad, so don’t pull those puppy dog eyes on me.”

  “I never knew my dad, so I’m not pulling any move.”

  Declan’s dark eyes study me. “What about your mom? Do you know her?”

  “Not really. She went to prison on drug charges when I was nine. When she got out, I was fourteen,” I say, trying to remember my mother’s face after so many years without any photos of her. “After prison, Mom said she was moving to Florida to get settled, and she’d send for me. You can guess that never happened.”

  “And you never heard from her?”

  “She sent postcards for a few months, maybe a year. Then just nothing.”

  “Who took you in when she went to prison?”

  “My uncle.”

  “Not a fan, huh?” he says, smirking while taking a bite of a donut. “Family’s overrated for a whole lot of people. I try to be there for my kids, but they have a live-in dad now. He’s a decent guy. A little stupid, but not bad, and he treats my kids well. So, while my kids are my family, I sometimes think they forget I’m theirs.”

  Declan doesn’t sound upset about his kids bonding with another dad, but I catch a hint of a frown before he turns away to wash his hands.

  “I’m sorry,” I say because I feel guilty and don’t know what else to say.

  “Not your problem. What we should focus on is what you need to do to get on your feet. Nothing rewarding about being reliant on the kindness of strangers.”

  “Did those guys hurt you at all?” I ask, suddenly afraid he’ll hurry me out of his apartment when this is the first place I’ve ever felt even
the least bit comfortable. “There were three of them.”

  “Two actually. The one you hurt didn’t put up a fight, and the other one ran away. To answer your question, I don’t get beat up by frat twats.”

  “I don’t guess you do.”

  Declan leans against the counter and crosses his massive arms. “Let’s lay shit out, okay? I’ll let you stay here until one of two things happen. Either you find your own place, or you piss me off. I’m easy-going, but I’m also particular about people in my place. No visitors. No exceptions. Do you understand?”

  When I only nod, he continues, “I’ll get you a key, and you can work for cash under the table at my restaurant downstairs. Some of my clothes will fit you until you can buy your own.”

  I stare at him, and Declan frowns. “Don’t fuck with my shit, and we’ll do just fine with this living situation.”

  “I tried to get my TASC awhile back. That’s what the GED test is called now,” I say, needing Declan to understand I do want to improve myself, “but failed the test. Is there anywhere around here I can take classes to learn the shit I missed when I left school?”

  “I’m sure there is. Haystack Fork isn’t a big place, but we have a good bus line that probably runs to the high school and the community college in the nearby Midpoint.”

  “I’m not looking for a free ride. I’ll help out with whatever you need.”

  Declan cocks a dark eyebrow. “I know. Your every thought is written on your face. You might want to work on that.”

  “I have a lot of shit to work on.”

  “You’re young,” Declan says, smirking. “I was a dumb, useless piece of shit when I was young too. Then I grew up. You’ll grow up too. Then maybe one day, you’ll give this speech to a dumb, useless piece of shit that you’re helping out.”

  I grin at his wording, but something nags at me. Not wanting to start trouble, I keep silent while he finishes eating and disappears into another room. After washing my dishes, I find Declan at the front door. He stands with his back to me while looking through what I assume is mail.

  “Why did you kiss me?” I ask despite every intention to keep my stupid mouth shut.

  Declan doesn’t look back at me before answering. “I wanted to see how you reacted.”

  “It was like a test?”

  “Yeah,” he mutters and opens an envelope.

  “Did I pass?”

  Declan finally glances over his shoulder and focuses his smoldering gaze on me. A smile teases his full lips, nearly shadowed by his dark beard.

  “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

  Fighting a smile, I nod and try to act casual. “Should I come with you to work today?”

  “No. Your shoes are wet, and you can’t fit in mine. Besides, I assume you’re in a world of pain. Better you stay here and heal up.”

  “Okay. Should I clean up or anything?”

  “No, the girl is coming by to do that. She’ll let herself in. All you need to do is stay out of her way.”

  Declan reaches into a small closet to retrieve a heavy, black leather jacket. He slides it over his wide build and exhales loudly.

  “I’ll be back up around lunch. You can eat before then if you want. Sleep all day or watch TV. I don’t care what you do except stay out of my room.”

  “When you bring food, will you stick around to eat with me?”

  Declan’s darkly handsome face freezes, and I don’t know if he’s reacting to my question or the hopeful tone I accidentally used. No doubt I seem clingy.

  “Sure. My ex will be over around then to drop off the dog. I’ll hang out until she does so Abbott doesn’t feel neglected. She’s a needy dog.”

  Despite the warmth in his gaze, Declan’s emphasis on the word “needy” hits me with the force of an insult. I don’t want this man thinking I’m a loser, even if everything he’s seen of me so far is pathetic. Declan is an impressive man, and I need him to respect me. Even see me as an equal. My hope is for him to keep me around for my company rather than simply out of pity.

  “I like my needy dog, so don’t cry, okay?” he says, grinning as he opens the door and steps out into the rainy morning.

  Declan doesn’t look back before closing the door behind him. I should remain in the kitchen doorway instead of running after him like an obsessed fool. Forgetting my self-respect, I hurry to the front windows and strain to catch sight of Declan in the rain. He’s only outside for as long as it takes him to get down the stairs. Once he retreats into the downstairs restaurant, I’m left to count the hours until he returns.

  2

  ♂◈ Declan ◈♂

  A drowned rat. That’s what I think when I stop to fill up my tank and notice Adam next to a dumpster. Waterlogged and miserable, he makes an almost comical figure especially when he throws a weak punch with the hope of robbing me. Adam’s a solid six feet and probably nowhere near as pathetic as he looks all wet. Even on his best day, though, the blond mess never has a shot of taking me down.

  God didn’t grant me many qualities. I’m not book smart, and I’ve been told my personality is similar to a brick wall’s. What I am blessed with is size, and I put it to good use when I see those little shits beating the fuck out of my drowned rat, wannabe criminal.

  I lie to Adam about why I do him a favor by bringing him to Haystack. No fucking way am I a do-gooder with noble intentions to help out the down-on-his-luck kid. That’s not me. I’m selfish. I avoid complications, and Adam reeks of trouble. He could be a junkie or riddled with disease. I might be inviting an honest-to-goodness psycho into my home.

  But I do it anyway because Adam has the prettiest fucking eyes ever gifted to a man, and I feel something primal when they look at me. I’ve never understood the butterflies feeling people talked about. What do bugs flying in your gut even mean? But I guess maybe those butterflies signal an awakening of sexual interest. If so, I felt a fucking infestation when the drowned rat with the gorgeous eyes first looked at me.

  So I bring trouble into my home and hope for the best because, for the first time in my life, I’m chasing something I actually care about catching.

  3

  ♂◈ Adam ◈♂

  I wash dishes before returning to the guest room and crawling into bed. The pain medicine helps, but my ribs still ache with every breath. I find a comfortable position in bed and try to remain completely still while watching the local news.

  This area of Indiana is foreign to me. I’d hitched a ride with a trucker who was heading east. I didn’t care where I went as long as I put distance between me and Leto. When the trucker got weird and started talking about serial killers, I bailed on him at a gas station.

  I doze off with thoughts of Declan’s lips on mine. In my mind, I don’t remain stunned but meet his passion with mine. This fantasy leads me to a powerful wet dream where I’m fucked in a dark room by an unseen man. Even without knowing who has me bent over, I believe it’s Declan. His hands stroke my back before roughly reaching around and jerking me off. I wake up covered in sweat and with a raging hard-on. My dick only needs a few fast, hard strokes to finish off what my dream with Declan started.

  After cleaning up in the bathroom and checking on my blossomed bruises, I stare in the mirror and wish I could shave. My blond beard remains patchy, having never come in solid in the way Declan’s does.

  I walk into the living room and wait for Declan to return. If I had shoes, I’d go downstairs and visit him. I even consider going anyway, but he probably doesn’t want me showing up barefoot. I then get the brilliant idea to throw my shoes into the dryer.

  I check every door for a laundry and find it next to Declan’s bedroom. My wet clothes sit in the washer, and I nearly turn it on, but the front door opening startles me back to the living room. A petite, Hispanic woman frowns at me and shakes her head.

  “No.”

  “No, what?”

  “I clean now.”

  “Okay. Can you put on the laundry?”

  “No.”
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  “Why not?” I ask and wrap my arms around my body.

  Her dark brows furrow. “I don’t work for you.”

  “I know, but Declan...”

  “He tells me what to do, and I do what he tells me. I have list.”

  “And laundry is on the list?” I ask when she shows me the list on her phone.

  “Yes.”

  “Then why can’t you do it now?”

  “It’s number four on the list.”

  “Why can’t you switch things around?”

  The woman dismissively waves her hand and turns away from me. Going about her cleaning, she ignores me even while dusting and vacuuming the guest room I’m sitting in. Eventually, I hear her turn on the washer followed by the vacuum again.

  With her ignoring me, I’m struck by loneliness. It’s like a lifetime of unhappiness comes crashing down on me. I realize I don’t have anyone in the world that gives a shit about me. In fact, if Declan killed and dumped me, no one would care. I logically knew my situation before this moment, but I’ve been on edge and running for so long. Finally able to relax, I’m struck by how truly unimportant I am.

  By the time I hear Declan’s voice in the living room, I’m drowning in hopelessness. What is the point of my life if I matter so little to people? Why can’t anyone love me? My parents didn’t. My uncle pimped me out. I’ve never had a boyfriend. I barely managed friends as a kid, not when my uncle’s temper put visitors at risk. Fuck, I never even had a pet who noticed my absence. How can I exist for twenty years without mattering to a single damn person?

  “No need to pout,” Declan says from the doorway. “I brought lunch. Since my ex is coming over, I’ll eat once she leaves my dog.”

  I lift my gaze from the soundless TV and find him more handsome than I remember. Perfect. Unattainable. Declan is beyond untouchable for a loser like me. How can I ever expect him to want me close when no one else has ever cared for my company?

  Well, that’s not totally true, I guess. People fucked me. That’s all I’m good for really. Once the sex was over, they hurried me out the door.

  “Okay,” I mutter, exhausted by a lifetime of searching for what I can’t hope to find.