These days, Clover’s smile was the only thing that made Tank happy. And seeing him in a loose T-shirt and boxer briefs, with the pale, slender legs on show was a definite improvement to Tank’s morning already.
“Hi.”
“Yay! You’re up.” Clover left the pan and drifted to Tank for a kiss. “I waited, but got hungry in the end. I guess the smell teased you out?” he asked and ran his hands up Tank’s sides before gently nudging him to sit on the padded bench at the table.
Tank was glad to see no bruises on him, because Pyro knew damn well not to put his hands on Clover, but in his drunken state he could be uncontrollable and sometimes handled their boy too hard. Tank would then make Pyro pay, but he could only do so much once the damage had been done.
“You went after him again, didn’t you?” he asked, holding the smooth hand against his cheek. He’d woken up to an empty bed last night and hadn’t even had to guess where Clover had gone.
The spark in Clover’s eyes died a little, and Tank hated to be the cause of it, but there was no other way but to confront the matter.
“I couldn’t let him drive.”
“You know you shouldn’t drive when it’s not absolutely crucial. Especially not at night,” Tank grumbled, pulling Clover in to rest his cheek against the boy’s warm stomach. He smelled of soap and washing detergent, and Tank found the scent so comforting he let his eyes close, even if just for a brief moment. That scent was normalcy, something he deeply missed. “He’s getting worse, and none of us can do anything about it. You should let him handle his own shit.”
Clover sighed, and Tank noticed the hair at the back of his head was a bit damp, so he must have driven off in the morning as well. Their campsite was fifteen minutes away from a gas station that had a shower available, and Tank could hardly blame Clover for wanting to be clean after a tough night. At least in daylight, it was much safer for him behind the wheel.
“He will get better when we have a new lead, that’s always the case. We just need to keep him occupied. To be honest, I think he’s itching to move somewhere new.”
Clover’s back and thighs still bore the scars of the beating he’d been through at Apollo’s hands, but here he was, worried about Pyro’s wellbeing and making Tank breakfast. In some ways, Clover had taken on many of Boar’s roles, slipping into shoes he desperately tried to fill. He wouldn’t. Not because he wasn’t good enough, or because his cooking repertoire was so much smaller, but because Boar couldn’t be replaced.
Tank’s gaze drifted off to the sofa that could be converted into a double bed. A place meant for Drake, not that the bastard had ever slept there, all too eager to self-flagellate by living on the floor of his van. Tank had invested in a mid-sized trailer so the three of them could share quarters, but that had been a spectacular failure, since Drake seemed intent on isolating himself from the people he called friends even when he was around.
Tank had made numerous attempts to reason with him, explain that all of them—maybe with the exception of Pyro—carried some of the blame for what had happened, but Drake would cut him off every time, going rigid as if he were about to blow up.
Tank had stopped trying at some point, in hope that by giving Drake space, he’d help him sort things out in that complicated head. But that hadn’t been the case either.
If Drake had been anyone else, Tank would have lost patience long ago. He did think Drake needed to get over himself and focus on actions and supporting everyone else affected by Boar’s absence, but Drake’s life hadn’t been normal, and Tank supposed the torture and captivity had opened wounds that needed more time to heal than the physical ones.
Clover gave Tank a minty kiss and added more bacon to the pan. “Any word from Drake?” Clover asked casually, but wouldn’t look at him, and the question, while expected, hurt, because no, there was no word from Drake.
“You shouldn’t worry about him either. He’s made his own bed.”
Clover started beating eggs in a bowl. “I know, but he’s probably hurting. I hoped maybe he spoke to you.”
This had to be the part Tank hated most. Not only did Drake isolate himself, disappear, but he’d abandoned Clover when the boy had needed the most support. Drake should have been the one to offer a helping hand, but instead, he wouldn’t even touch Clover, as if the boy was now a leper. When questioned, he couldn’t explain what that was about, but Tank suspected the captivity they’d been through together had wrecked their bond. Maybe Drake had been beaten in Clover’s presence and now didn’t feel worthy of love or some shit? Tank could only speculate, because neither of the stubborn mules would talk about what happened, which left him with no tools to help them.
He hated being useless, much more so when it was the people he cared about most who suffered.
Clover poured the egg mixture into the pan and put the lid on, leaving the omelette to rise, and Tank didn’t know what else he could say before settling on, “you’re putting too much strain on yourself. Neither of them is in a place where they can appreciate it.”
“Since I do it for praise, maybe one day they will, and then I will reap the rewards for years to come. They will have to grovel at my feet and shower me with gifts to make amends.”
Tank groaned at the sarcasm-laden tone. “It’s not what I meant.”
Clover’s shoulders sagged. “I know. I didn’t mean to snap.”
Tank massaged his eyeballs. “It’s just… You’ve been through this too, and I hate to see you mother them when they don’t give anything back. They’re both adult men, for fuck’s sake.”
“I just worry Pyro isn’t in a state where he’s able to help himself. I’ve never seen him drink so much, and then he throws drugs into the mix… Who else will care for him? We’re all he has, even if he’s an ungrateful shit right now.”
Boar had always been the one to keep an eye on Pyro, and it must have been the only thing keeping him acting normal, because Tank had never seen Pyro this unhinged. Sure, he’d gotten drunk on occasion, and Tank had heard stories of times when Boar would lock Pyro in a room to make him quit drugs cold turkey, but he had not actually witnessed any of that shit until now.
He’d been furious after Pyro had set his home on fire, but as tragic as that had been, Tank blamed grief and shock. But instead of sobering up to keep a clear head, Pyro had descended into addictive substances right away, as if muting his sorrow was more important than finding Boar. In a moment of hungover self-reflection, Pyro had promised to pay Tank back for the house, but then had gone off to buy drugs, so that wouldn’t be happening any time soon. They were friends, but Tank’s patience for this kind of behavior was running thin, especially that Pyro’s actions affected them all, most of all poor Clover, who kept accepting all the shit Pyro threw his way.
It was disturbing to watch, and he had no answers. The least he could do was offer support and keep an eye on Pyro, to intervene if necessary.
“Here we go, Daddy. An omelette to start the day.” Clover smiled, hiding any trouble behind pretty blue eyes. Tank couldn’t even bring himself to pull on that thread, because he didn’t want to start the day by wrecking breakfast.
“Smells delicious,” Tank said, his gaze drawn to the pitcher of coffee Clover must have made earlier. Hoping caffeine could improve his mood, Tank poured himself a cup and smiled when Clover started cutting the food into bite-sized pieces instead of just handing Tank a knife and fork.
Maybe he didn’t have the right to police Clover’s attitude toward Pyro and Drake. Maybe taking care of them helped Clover feel normal. If that was the case, Tank needed to show him all the appreciation he craved, since he wasn’t getting any from those selfish pricks.
Clover slipped into Tank’s lap. Smelling so fresh, smiling at Tank in the sunshine, Clover was the one person who brightened Tank’s day. “I’m pretty sure I’ve perfected the recipe. See how fluffy it turned out.” Clover got a piece of omelette on the fork and brought it to Tank’s lips.
The cooked eggs
melted in Tank’s mouth, exploding with flavors of bacon and the vegetables added to the dish. Perfectly seasoned too.
And as much as Tank appreciated Clover’s cooking, he hadn’t missed that the boy had only started doing more of it following Boar’s disappearance.
“Lovely. Thank you for doing this. You know you can count on me too, right? Whatever happens, we will stick together,” Tank said, rubbing Clover’s back before accepting another bite.
"Yes. One day you will cook for me, and the eggs will actually be salted.” Clover kissed Tank’s cheek with a grin. Of course. Clover had to mock the one time Tank had made him breakfast in bed and had tried to keep sodium to a minimum. Converting Clover to a healthier diet worked just fine, but the attempt to make him ditch salt? Complete failure. Oh well, nobody was perfect.
“I’ll consider it on your birthday,” Tank teased between one bite and another. He had not realized how hungry he was until there was food in his mouth, but it was the normalcy of sitting like this with Clover that fed his soul.
“What? No! Daddyyy!” Clover whined, more playful with each bite he fed Tank. “For my birthday, I want to eat candy all day and do under a thousand steps.”
Tank rolled his eyes. “We’d have to replace the steps with a different kind of exercise then,” he said, and squeezed Clover’s thigh.
“I could come up with a few ideas…” Clover bit his lip, making Tank melt.
Unlike Drake, Tank chose not to punish himself with a lack of pleasure, because that wouldn’t bring Boar back. If anything, keeping both his body and mind happy would benefit them all, once a new lead appeared.
“I bet. You always come up with the best ideas,” Tank said, washing down the omelette with coffee.
Clover leaned in to kiss Tank’s ear as his hand found its way to Tank’s dick. “I’m really hungry right now, Daddy.”
The touch sent a shiver down Tank’s spine, and he groaned in pleasure. Clover really knew how to start a guy’s day.
“I won’t stop you. You’re still growing, and those muscles need all the protein,” he whispered, his mind and body switching to sex-mode within a heartbeat. If he was to survive another day without purpose, this would keep him going.
Clover gave Tank one more kiss before diving lower, but Tank still managed to pat his ass before Clover kneeled between his legs. The happy giggle it elicited made Tank’s focus narrow to the sunshine, the breakfast, and the beautiful boy pulling his cock out of his pajama pants.
“I want it down your throat, boy. You’ll swallow it all for Daddy,” he rasped, meeting Clover’s gaze over his half-hard cock. The boy was already licking the head, so enthusiastic Tank’s heart beat faster.
He let his head fall back when Clover’s warm breath teased his naked flesh, bringing it to life. Slow, teasing licks around the head felt like fire, and Tank opened his eyes, looking at the boy again. Clover smiled, as dedicated as ever to pleasuring him, and the sight of him on his knees, holding Tank’s dick like a microphone, only to give it a little kiss was enough to make him harden fast.
“What if I spill some, Daddy?” he teased. “Sometimes you come so much I can’t hold it all in my mouth.” But he lowered his head, taking half the cock between his lips and letting it slide along the inside of his cheek.
Warm, soft, and wet, Clover’s mouth was perfection.
“I’m gonna have to spank you until you learn better,” Tank said, slouching to get a better look. “Can’t have you waste my spunk.”
Clover moaned, sucking on the cock as if it were the sweetest Popsicle he’d ever had. Tank couldn’t help himself and pushed his fingers into the smooth hair, which felt slightly damp close to the scalp, after the shower Clover had taken.
“Like this, boy. Just like this.”
He remembered the first time he’d fucked Clover’s mouth, which was still a prominent feature in his spank bank. Looking back, his initial offer had been illicit, but he hadn’t been able to help himself around Clover even then. The blue gaze with a pink sheen had begged Tank for a fuck from the moment they’d lain eyes on one another.
Almost two years on, the boy was even sexier, even more beautiful than he had been on that fateful night that had brought them together, and his presence was the only drug Tank allowed himself. He wouldn’t stop watching him, giddy at the sight of the deep red flush splashed across the handsome face while his cock dipped in and out in an endless kiss with that lush, warm mouth.
He put both his hands in Clover’s hair and forced more of his dick into the willing mouth as Clover’s skillful fingers found their way to Tank’s balls, touching them in just the right way. Clover knew exactly how to make Tank lose control. Sweet and pliant with him, eager to play the good boy as much as he could sometimes be naughty on purpose.
“That’s it boy. You’re taking all of it.”
Pleasure washed over Tank in hot waves until it coursed through his entire body, making him stir his hips and thrust into Clover’s mouth. But he didn’t try to fuck him. Clover was in control, pleasuring him, because he loved him.
His toes curled when the suction made his balls stir, and he moved his hands to the slender shoulders, holding on as he was about to blow. Clover must not have been in the mood for spanking, because he swallowed it all. Every last drop.
“You’re so hot, baby. Drinking all of Daddy’s cum…” Tank grinned, stroking Clover’s hair and still barely catching his breath.
Clover pulled away only after a while and licked his lips. “All I wanna do is make you happy.”
That simple statement made Tank’s heart beat faster, and he pulled Clover up into his lap to hug him and make out while he jerked off his boy.
Tank rested his chin on Clover’s shoulder, his arm tight around him, hand moving up and down his length hard and fast. They looked at one another, mouths only inches apart. When Clover’s eyes fluttered, and his lips opened to utter a soft moan, Tank was there to kiss him as he came.
They hugged without speaking, just enjoying each other’s closeness. Clover seemed so fragile at times like this. So vulnerable Tank would’ve gladly kept him far away from the world that hurt him. But he knew that wasn’t a good way forward. Clover had proven himself, so Tank let him go after Pyro to seedy clubs, and took him with them when they investigated clues about Boar’s potential whereabouts.
Lately though, Clover wasn’t even that keen on training, eager to be Tank’s little house mouse. The way he flinched in Tank’s arms at the sound of an approaching car reminded Tank of how fearless Clover had been before the whole Apollo disaster. He missed that bratty energy.
“Stay here. I’ll see who it is,” Tank said, pulling on his pants and quickly wiping the cum from his hand. He was about to grab his gun, just in case, but the white van about to park outside was all too familiar.
“I— It’s Drake,” he uttered and opened the door.
Chapter 3 - Drake
The seven hour-long overnight drive from Colorado had sucked out the remainders of Drake’s energy, leaving him running on vapor. He’d been gone for days. He didn’t know how many, since the calendar meant very little in his life, but it had definitely been around a week. Still, the necessity of coming back to the people who resented him—regardless of what they said—felt as oppressive as ever. From the moment he left the asphalt and followed a dirt road through pastures overlooked by reddish hills, the invisible vise had been slowly tightening on his chest, and the lead weights made his shoulders hunch toward the wheel.
He wasn’t ready to face any of them yet, but it had to be done.
Once they found Boar, Drake would have to decide what to do next, but until then, he wouldn’t leave. He already kept his visits as short as necessary so he wouldn’t have to face Clover much, but when he couldn’t avoid them, seeing the boy opened a gaping hole in his chest. All the time they’d spent together, all the closeness they’d built. Ruined, because every time he closed his eyes, he saw Clover strapped to that bench, beaten bloody, c
rying and flinching at his touch.
Nothing would ever be the same.
He hadn’t taken the short captivity well either. Recovery itself had lasted a month, but the bruises and broken ribs were nothing in comparison to what he’d done to Clover. He would never forgive himself, even if Clover could.
The boy would never love him the way he had before it happened, but that was fair, because Drake didn’t deserve someone so precious. Not only had he failed to protect Clover but he’d also pulled him into a trap. He was surprised the boy even wanted to look at him.
His throat tightened when he spotted the two trailers in the morning sun. They appeared so normal. Like a regular camping ground, and it struck him how much better off his friends were without him. It took all of his willpower to keep himself from driving off. There were things they needed to know, and once Boar was back, they could hate him all they wanted. Once everything was over, Tank would be free to let Drake go.
Tank left his trailer before Drake managed to switch off the engine. Dressed in his pajama pants, broad in the shoulders, and as strong as his nickname suggested, he looked as if he hadn’t aged a day in the last few years. As if nothing affected him. He was stability, the wall Clover needed, so unlike the mess Drake was.
There were no greetings, just: “How many times do I have to remind you to keep your phone on?”
Drake’s jaw clenched, but he made himself leave the van despite not wanting to face the reality he kept running from. “I don’t have to report to you. I’m not your boy.”
Tank frowned at him. “It’s not about that, so what’s your problem? I just want to be able to check if you’re alive every now again. Don’t think it’s too much to ask.”
“And if I wasn’t, then what of it? No point in wasting resources when Boar’s missing,” Drake said, taking his duffel bag from the passenger seat. He needed to change.
Four Mercenaries - The Complete Collection Page 50