Four Mercenaries - The Complete Collection

by K. A. Merikan

Drake shut his eyes, swallowing. “You’re right. I’m sorry I’m returning to this. It’s just that I know he’s out there, and if shit goes wrong, I won’t be there to help him, and he’s always been there for me.”

  Clover put his arm around Drake’s waist, loving being able to just touch him. “Drake? Do you like…” he wasn’t even sure how to put it. “Do you have feelings for Tank?”

  Drake was a cornered cat, already bristling yet with no means to escape. “I—” He licked his lips and avoided Clover’s gaze for almost too long. “It’s complicated. Are you…? What do you think, Clo?”

  Clover trailed his fingers along Drake’s ribs, thinking back to some memorable threesomes and how much he enjoyed seeing Drake and Tank kiss. “I think that if there is something there that you want to explore, then you should. I don’t mind, if that’s your question.” He smiled at Drake and smelled his black hair. “But I do want to know how complicated it really is.”

  Drake relaxed and met Clover’s gaze, though his expression remained guarded. “It’s not like what I feel for you. I wouldn’t want to take him out on a romantic getaway, or anything like that. That would have been weird but… since you came into the picture and it brought me and him physically closer, I keep feeling this tension. He and I fooled around a couple of times right after we met, but it didn’t feel right. And now something changed. I can’t explain it. Maybe because back then I could sense he wanted something from me that I couldn’t give, but now that he’s got you, it doesn’t all hinge on me being his everything. We can—could do some other stuff while you’re still the pretty boy he wants to pamper. But I don’t even know if he’d want me that way.”

  Clover cocked his head and kissed Drake’s lips. “What is it that you want? And I’m afraid you’d actually need to talk to him.”

  Drake groaned and pushed his face into the pillow of grass. “I don’t want to make things awkward. I’m shit at this sort of thing. Which you, being my partner, obviously know.”

  Clover snorted. That much was true. Talking to Drake about feelings could be a pain in the ass. “I mean… I’ve seen him kiss you of his own will. He’d definitely want to do that. I’ve never seen him try to touch Pyro or Boar in any way beyond friendly.” Clover laughed at the vision of Tank giving Pyro a tender kiss. What a ridiculous image that made.

  Drake rubbed Clover’s chest. “He does. It’s strange. But in a good way. He has this dangerous energy that kind of pulls me in but also pushes me back sometimes. Like he wants more and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  It was like watching a teenager talk about his crush, and Clover found it strangely endearing. Taking into account that he was Drake’s first boyfriend, it made sense Drake was behind in more than Disney movies

  “If talking is hard, just try kissing. It’s always worked for me.” Clover grinned and confirmed his words with a peck on Drake’s lips.

  He still had to adjust to the concept in his head, and he didn’t even know what these two stubborn men could work out between them, but he was excited to find out. He’d always felt weirdly tender whenever he’d seen Tank give Drake the odd hug or pat him on the back in passing, and if connecting this way made his men happier, he wanted to see it happen.

  Drake was still chewing on the answer when his phone pinged. He quickly checked it, but then showed it to Clover with an unreadable expression.

  [I’ve got a few hours off baby. Can’t wait to lick up your love juices,] Tank’s message read.

  Clover raised his eyebrows with a deep exhale. “Looks like you’re up.”

  Chapter 15 – Drake

  Drake wasn’t ready.

  With a green light from Clover, he could approach Tank without guilt, but the arrival of the message had left no room for thinking things through. He and Tank had agreed to always meet up past sundown on the day of receiving the message, in a motel room rented out for the whole month, in case it was needed. Drake had left the cabin far too early, and had at this point been stewing in his own juices for three hours.

  After his fourth shower that day, he needed to remind himself that the purpose of this meeting wasn’t his uncomfortable attraction to Tank but the poison, which Drake had sewn into a women’s push-up bra. Their communication was based on the premise of Tank having a girlfriend, so the lingerie, if seen by anyone, would be considered a trophy and nothing more.

  It should work out just fine.

  Tank would do his job and safely return into the fold once his new boss was no more.

  But safety wasn’t Drake’s primary concern right now. He knew Tank could take care of himself. He, on the other hand, was useless at romance… if whatever this was could even be called that.

  The very idea of Tank politely rejecting him made everything inside Drake twist and cringe. Maybe he should wait until Tank was done with the job? What was the point of putting any more weight on him when he was surely already far more stressed than he claimed in his coded messages? It would be selfish to turn his attention to Drake’s issues at a time like this.

  Still, Drake cleaned every inch of his body, and let his hair dry in a braid to give it a gentle wave, and changed into fresh clothes, still undecided about what he should do. Which was ridiculous. He’d known Tank for eight years.

  If… if anything was to happen, what did Drake even want from Tank in this sense? He had no fucking idea. He liked the hugs, and Tank’s unexpected kisses made him more confused than he let on, but anything beyond that was a hole in his mind, even though he knew he wanted more.

  Tank smelled of a cologne so delicious Drake had gotten him another bottle of it last Christmas, his body was strong, tall, impressive. But somehow, the very things that Drake found attractive in Tank also made him uneasy. With Clover, Drake knew where he stood, but if Tank wanted to use Drake’s vulnerability against him, he could. And while Drake considered himself proficient at fighting, Tank’s strength and skill could be deadly even to him if Tank pinned him down.

  He knew Tank would never attack him, not after all they’d been through, but he might want things Drake didn’t, and if they tried, the good relationship they’d developed over the years might end up ruined.

  It was selfish of him to lust after Tank when everything was going so smoothly. They’d been in that boat before, so why did he even consider rocking it again?

  Clover, of course. When Tank had tried to get into Drake’s pants all those years ago, he’d flirted with him in the way he did with Clover. He was looking for a submissive guy who would take his cock, his gifts, his protection, and be his sweet baby. But Drake was anything but pliant, was set on protecting himself, and the thought of a cock up his ass made him queasy.

  With Clover in the picture though, Clover filling all of those needs Tank had in terms of a boyfriend, what was Drake’s use to Tank? Why would he be up for the scraps Drake could offer?

  But whenever those agonizing thoughts overcame him, Clover’s voice was back, reminding Drake that nobody forced Tank to touch Drake in an intimate way, and that he’d never once approached Boar and Pyro. He’d never teased them in a flirty way nor kissed them. It couldn’t be only because Drake had been with Tank the longest.

  Drake could sense an approaching headache, but the knock on the door made him rise.

  No. He should keep his mouth shut.

  The old-fashioned room had a carpet that hadn’t been changed in the past twenty years, and the same ugly flower pattern on both the bedcovers and curtains. It wasn’t an appropriate place to discuss important issues. Who was he even kidding? Tank was under heavy stress, and dealing with his old friend maybe, possibly crushing on him was the last thing he needed.

  Drake moved like a puppet and opened the door, inhaling a big gulp of air scented with the cologne he liked so much.

  Tank moved in like… well, a tank. He pushed past Drake and shut the door behind him. “Jesus fucking Christ. It’s nice to see a friendly face. Ben’s a nutjob.”

  Drake locked the door, studying T
ank’s tall, muscular form as he took off the jacket he came in, revealing a rather tight long-sleeve. It was so strange that he could both adore a guy slim, twinky, and beautiful like Clover, and also appreciate the bulldozer of a man that was Tank.

  “You look like you need a drink,” he said, even though he’d just decided not to make things weird. On the way here, when he’d been still undecided about how to proceed, he’d gotten a small bottle of whisky, but maybe if Tank was so frustrated, Drake could find an alternative use for it other than giving himself courage.

  Tank stepped up to him and hugged Drake like he often did. Naturally, without awkwardness, yet Drake went stiff as a log and remained so until Tank backed off and sat by a tiny table. “You’re reading my mind. How’s everyone doing?”

  Drake exhaled and poured the whisky into two red cups he’d purchased at the gas station. He sat in the other chair and offered the liquor to Tank. “They’re well. Clover’s back to training, Boar’s feeling better every day, and Pyro… well, he’d trying his best,” he said, trying not to flinch when Tank’s knee brushed against his own under the table.

  All these tiny things that used to be so natural now blew out of proportion in his mind.

  Tank rested his elbow on the tabletop and took a gulp of the alcohol. “Fuck, this feels good. Can’t have any on the job. I’m happy Clover’s back on track with training. We’ll need him, but also… you know, I want him to feel confident.”

  Drake smiled, remembering their reunion earlier. “Yeah. He’s getting better. Hadn’t forgotten any of the moves I taught him. But he misses you,” he said, sipping the whisky, though its flavor made him imagine what Tank’s lips tasted like, and his thoughts briefly strayed where they shouldn’t.

  Tank wiggled his eyebrows, his gaze intense when it met Drake’s. “Give him a blowjob from me.”

  Drake gave a strangled laugh and downed the whole shot of liquor in one go, but it barely burned down his throat, not even close to soothing his nerves. “Sure, though he says I’m the best at it, so he’ll know the difference.”

  Tank frowned. “He did not say that.”

  Spurred on by the alcohol, Drake showed off his split tongue. “He did.”

  “I’ll believe it when I hear it.” But Tank cocked his head at Drake, drawing attention to the elegant shape of his skull, which was only enhanced by the crew cut. “Unless you give me a blowjob from him.”

  Drake’s brain backed up. Did Tank just ask him for head?

  Did he?

  Drake wasn’t usually the kind of guy who got flustered, but he didn’t know how to handle this situation. If it was a joke, he might be in for the most humiliating ending to this meeting, but if Tank was serious then...

  “As I said, you’d feel the difference right away,” he said and averted his eyes, pouring himself a full cup of the whisky while his skin went aflame, and it felt as if the scorch had overcome even his hair.

  Tank’s gaze skinned him alive, but he said nothing and sipped his liquor. Was he imagining Drake on his knees, mouth stretched around his cock? Drake’s brain was all too quick to offer him that vision, and he had no idea how to feel about it. Tank had a nice dick. Of course he did. And Drake loved watching him use it with Clover, so there was that.

  “You got my lovejuice?”

  There was way too much innuendo in this room.

  “Sure do,” Drake said and rose after taking two sips from his cup. With Tank’s gaze burning holes in his clothing, he walked to his open bag and pulled out the bra. “We sprayed it with women’s perfume. Boar’s idea,” he said, holding it by one of the straps.

  Tank laughed out loud. "You should have just come wearing it. Would have been more inconspicuous.” He grabbed the piece of lingerie and smelled it with a stupid grin.

  Drake’s shoulders dropped. “Your famous sense of humor is on fire today. Tell me more,” he said, parking his ass in the chair. The liquor was mercifully taking effect and numbing his fears.

  “I gotta get my kicks somewhere. Ben’s a total homophobe, so I don’t get to relax much around him. It’s been… tough, but I’m working my way up. Apollo’s preparing for some crazy death match, and he’s been talking about a ‘Colosseum of Blood’. I’m gonna get my first assignment around him next week, so let’s just hope no one wants a smell of my girlfriend’s bra.”

  “The lovejuice is in the padding of the left cup so they better settle on jerking off with it on their face, not biting in.” Drake leaned back, letting the warmth of the liquor release painful knots from his shoulders. He didn’t want to ask whether Tank had been asked to do some terrible thing to prove his loyalty. He didn’t want to hear the answer, if it was yes.

  Tank leaned back in his chair and poured himself more whiskey. “Have you ever been with a woman?”

  Drake crossed his arms. Where was this question even coming from? “Eight years on, you finally found the courage to ask me that?”

  Tank snorted. “The bra made me think about it. You don’t have to say. It’s just nice to talk to someone honestly. I hate the acting, I’d be a terrible undercover guy in the long run. I can do it, but it’s annoying. And half of my job is just waiting for shit.”

  “But are you safe? What do you actually do?” Drake asked, still pondering how to answer Tank’s question.

  “Wait. I’ll show you something. It’s like a cult in there.” He got up, turned around and pulled his top off, for a second leaving Drake speechless. Had their interactions always been this sexually charged, or was it all now happening in Drake’s head?

  Drake was left speechless staring at the broad back, but voice died in his throat when he spotted Apollo’s brand, still fresh, on Tank’s shoulder.

  The room was dim, so Tank moved closer to the yellow lamp. “Do you see it? Hurt like a motherfucker.”

  Drake rose and approached him, hand lifted to hover around the burn. His throat felt so tight he could barely force words out. That brand was the symbol of the darkest times of his life, and now Tank had it too. Forever. “I’m sorry. I wish there was another way to ensure Clover’s safety.”

  Tank turned around. “It’s not just for Clover. It’s about you as well.”

  Drake bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the melting feeling in his stomach. “Well, it’s awful either way.”

  “It’s okay, Drake. I knew going in that shit was gonna happen. I need to show dedication. It will all be over soon anyway.”

  “How bad is it? You didn’t answer. Are you safe?” Drake insisted, briefly swiping his gaze across Tank’s muscular chest.

  Tank groaned and grabbed the cup. “Of course it’s not safe. But I haven’t been murdering babies, so overall, it’s manageable.”

  Drake wondered if Tank had seen people huddled up in cells or shipped off like he had been, but that wasn’t something he wanted to discuss. “Yes. I have slept with a woman. Once. You?” he asked, choosing to change the topic as fast as humanly possible. The awkwardness of it all was killing him.

  Tank raised his eyebrows. “No. I almost did. There was this really pretty woman at a bar close to my military base, and she was hitting on me so hard, I was flattered, she promised no strings and all that. I thought I’d just give it a try, but nah, chickened out in the end. Not for me.”

  Drake smirked and looked at their feet so close together. “Yeah. Not mine either. Awkward. But safe.”

  Tank nudged Drake’s shoulder. “I don’t know about safe. At least I’m never gonna put a bun in Clover’s oven.”

  Drake gave a chuckle that sounded nervous even to him. Fear had been what had motivated him to his one and only experiment with straight sex. Since his mother had sold him, his longer interactions had been almost exclusively with men. By the time he’d progressed to being an assassin-in-training, he’d had nothing to fear from women, or so it had seemed, so he’d hooked up with a girl he’d met in a nightclub, in the hope that maybe it would work for him and make his confusing relationship with sex slightly easier. But i
t wasn’t to be.

  “I’m sure he appreciates it,” Drake said, crossing his arms when Tank stood a bit too close.

  “So… you and Clover straightened things up between you two? Or should I say you gayed them up?”

  The alcohol had definitely untied the sack of corny jokes Tank held in his head. If Drake were to stoop to Tank’s level, he’d have called them out as Daddy jokes.

  He finished his drink, staring at Tank’s charming smile. “Things definitely got gayer between me and him.”

  Tank grinned, his eyes glinting with thirst. “Come on, spill a little. How’s my slutty boy doing? Any highlights?”

  “Nope. You’ve got to deal with this job fast and return to us,” Drake said before he could have bitten his tongue. Oh well, Tank likely wouldn’t notice what Drake tried to say either way.

  Tank groaned. “Oh come on, throw a man a bone. I do miss him. All of you, but he’s… my boy, you know?”

  Of course. Tank only wanted to hear about Clover. Thank fuck Drake hadn’t said anything stupid after all. This silliness would finally be out of his system and left in the back of the freezer—still there but unusable when one got hungry. Or like a dead body. One wouldn’t eat it anyway. “He’s lovely. He’s supporting everyone. We had sex outdoors, and I hope neither of us gets a cold as a result.”

  Tank chuckled and patted Drake’s cheek. “Aww, always so worried. I’ll be imagining that woodland sex when I’m falling asleep. Sounds pretty relaxing. Would have loved some of that action right now.”

  That was Drake’s cue, but the tension was far too much to bear. Maybe once they see each other again in a week, Drake would be over the stupid weirdness he was feeling. “Sucks to be you then. I’ll be going.”

  “Okay, okay, thanks for the whiskey.” Tank smirked. “And the lovejuice.”

  Drake could have sworn it was an innuendo, but he didn’t trust himself anymore. He zipped his bag with the sense of being watched burning the back of his neck, and headed for the chair where he’d left the jacket. He’d leave this room, go home, and try to forget all his idiotic fantasies. He wasn’t even sure what to tell Clover about this embarrassing evening, because the boy would surely ask him how it went.