Don't... 04 Backlash (16 page)

“Know that
after we’d touched and you were quiet,” said Jack, breathing heavy,
“I lay there trying to think of how best to hold you, needing to
hold you, but all that came out was... mukka. So know that every
time I say it now, I’m saying sorry for not having had the balls to
say how much I’ve loved you since you allowed me to touch your
life.”

Gray
remembered the look, how the stray fall of light across the sheets
had set the divide as Jack lay there on his side, one arm under the
pillow, just watching. There’d been no regret in grey eyes over
touch, but there’d been no offer of closing the distance either,
just a grinned curiosity of what else could be offered between the
sheets. That’s what it had been back then, right? Nothing else? It
couldn’t be anything else, because the way Jack looked now, that
quiet watching, it carried every echo of that night, and Gray
knew—he saw now that it wasn’t just about touch, about closing
distance; it was about growing up, about growing older and learning
to move closer. How first loves and touches didn’t come close to
being given the rare privilege of being someone’s last
kiss.

Gray went in,
demanding a hard fight of tongue, wanting to be that last kiss.
Jack chased every move he made, bodies grinding into each other,
hands sliding down the wall, both wanting to say everything that
hadn’t been said all of those years ago.

“Yeah,” Jack
breathed.

“Yeah, what?”
Gray took deep breaths, calming life and giving a slow run of
kisses along Jack’s jaw and the line of perspiration there.

“Take away all
of the chains, I’d still lie there beneath you.” A breath brushed
Gray’s ear, stilling him. “But lay me there on your bed”—Jack
loosened Gray’s tie—“hold me down,” he whispered as the tie wound
its way around Jack’s own throat, creating the perfect black choker
as the loose ends fell effortlessly over his pecs, “I’d take all of
that class, all of that control”—Gray’s shirt was eased open as a
kiss brushed Gray’s lips—“and I’d make such a fucking dirty whore
out of the classy Dom.”

Gray’s kiss was
harder. “Dirty whore?”

“Fucking
filthy.”

Gray bit at
Jack’s lip, then gave a grin. “And you plan to tempt me down how,
Jack?”

“Take you
down?” Up close and personal with Gray, Jack thought about it for a
moment, or had the decency to pretend to at least.

“How?” said
Gray, harder, faster, feeding the heat.

“
Cock
of the walk
worship,” mumbled Jack, and he gave a nip at Gray’s
lip.

“Hmm? Focusing
on stylistics and application, just how does that differ from the
more typical... cock worship?”

Jack bit his
way down Gray’s chest, ending by kneeling there at his feet. Not
looking up, he eased the ends of the tie around his wrists, then
lay down, shoulders touching the floor, body arched as his knees,
still tucked underneath him, eased open. The tie tightened around
his throat as the ends circled his hands, the perfect self bondage
with black silk tie playing there at his feet.

“Blindfolded
exploration of the bastard, all over kiss, nip... lick....” Jack
let one end of the tie slip free and traced a touch through the
perspiration dampening his abs, deep into the coveralls gathered at
his waist. “Because the bastard isn’t led by what’s between his
thighs...” Jack swore, his back arching that little more as he
stroked himself beneath the protective material of his coveralls.
“So cock worship becomes redundant as it’s the bastard himself that
demands worshipping.”

Gray eased down
and took hold of both ends of the tie in one hand and pulled Jack
up to his knees, loving how one hand still played in his coveralls,
that dirty smile not shifting as eyes eased open.

“Yet you call
me a whore?” Gray tried to not look impressed, but Jack shifted the
tail of Gray’s shirt and eased in close. A run of tongue came from
hairline to navel.

“Fucking
filthy, Sir.” Gentler bites came to Gray’s hip. Jack never went
straight to teasing along the cock, but then Gray never liked being
played so outright; he liked subtlety, but he liked certitude with
it. And Jack... he knew dirty so well.

“Hm,” mumbled
Jack and Gray sucked in a sharp breath as Jack caught skin between
teeth, hard enough now to bleed his mark. It was always Jack’s
claim, one that would bruise at his hip, and so fucking
discreetly.

Gray eased a
touch along the tie around Jack’s throat, pulling the loop free,
yet keeping it around the back of his neck. Silk ran through Gray’s
fingers as he took up the slack to each end, wrapping them around
his fists, tugging Jack in closer to his groin with it as Jack
knelt there.

Jack let his
hands trace up Gray’s thigh now that he was allowed to come a
little bit closer.

“Always loved
your pillow talk, stunner,” Gray mumbled, looking down at him.

Jack’s breath
and brush of lip played along the material covering Gray’s cock,
forcing out a soft groan from Gray. “And the sub...?” whispered
Jack. “How much do you love the sub, mukka?”

Gray lifted
Jack’s gaze up to his. “I need to tell you that, Jack?”

Giving a rough
snarl, Jack bit at the thickness to Gray’s cock through his
trousers, hands already tugging at the zip, then gripping and
inching suit trousers down slightly. His cock rolled free from the
effort, not fully erect and trying desperately to ignore who knelt
at his feet.

Jack gave
such a cock-teasing cock of eyebrow seeing it, his
You think you’ll deny me
for how long, mukka
?

A kiss came at
Gray’s tip, then all play put aside, Jack took him down to the
root, not stopping until the breath was plugged deep in his
throat.

“Fuck,”
breathed Gray, eyes closing as he let his head fall back against
the wall. The tie was still wrapped around each fist, and he played
the tension, hearing it scrape the back of Jack’s neck as he pulled
him in after Jack pulled back on his cock.

Gray had barely
touched anyone for over seven months, not since before Christmas,
when Jack had last sat between his thighs in the kitchen. Jack’s
neck had been exposed then and marking the skin there had come so
fucking easily.

Now, Jack slid
his lips along his cock, pulling back, tongue now drag-racing the
slit—then he was back down to the root again, taking everything he
could so effortlessly and allowing a rub of hand into Gray’s balls
to take care of the rest of his tease and please.

Gray chose the
pace from there, his pull on the tie and gentle shift of hip as
Jack’s lips only kissed around his tip... taking it easy, keeping
his handling of Jack, his fucking of his mouth, light, tender. It
was a big step, moving from Jack just playing on Gray’s thigh to
having the confidence to kneel and take this. Gray was content with
the former, to let Jack lay his body against his for a lifetime, if
it kept him calm. But this...? Gray gently played through Jack’s
hair. It was the sweetest torture, it was—

The sound of a
lock being turned had Gray dropping the tie, reaching for his
sidearm, and aiming his gun at the bedroom door as someone came
in.

Jan skidded to
a halt in the bedroom doorway, first seeing Gray and smiling, then
spotting the gun in the same instant Gray holstered it. He saw Jack
last, surprising considering Jack had just kissed Gray’s cock, then
hid his head, cheek pressed against cock, and chuckling as Jan came
in.

“I... hmm.” Jan
sounded uneasy and Gray inwardly scolded himself for using the gun,
seeing the alarm racing through soft brown eyes. Jack got to his
feet, his hand staying on Gray’s cock even as he pulled Gray’s
shirt tails down to give him some decency.

“I...” Jan
scratched at his head. “You... you said dinner. And, but... I came
as... as....”

Jack’s touch on
Gray’s cock was long and slow as he played the full length
underneath his shirt. “Hmmm?”

“You...” Jan
shrugged, and his lopsided grin was a surprise as something else
crept up. He watched where Jack’s hand teased whilst at the same
time trying to look away and not be noticed watching. “You... you
both okay?”

“Fucking
peachy, things.” Gray got a long kiss on the lips as he looked at
Jack. “You see that look in his eyes?” Jack said quietly. He cast
Jan a quick glance. “I know that fucking look.” Still that hand
stroked Gray’s cock and Gray shifted slightly, now watching Jan
too. “Fucking heat...” Jack gave such a long sigh. “All of us,” he
said to Gray. “He’s missing all of us, too. But I need to face him
first and see if he’s okay. Can I have a moment with him, mukka? I
need to tell him about today too.”

Jack pulled
away and Gray caught hold of his wrist, stopping him before he cast
a quick glance at Jan. “Gentle,” he said in a soft tone. “Read him,
Jack. Fucking look after him.”

“Always.” Then
Jack was over by Jan, offering him his hand. Jan frowned, then
blushed as he looked down. His glance couldn’t have been more
school-boyish, or maybe it could be. Because as he took Jack’s hand
and glanced over, back at Gray, Jan couldn’t have looked more in
need of pushing through first-time touches if he’d tried.

The look caught
so much of Gray. It hadn’t been tainted. With everything Jan had
been put through, a stray look could still question the existence
of buttercups in a painting over a dungeon full of BDSM equipment.
A huge part of him wanted to go with them, the offer was there in
Jan’s soft smile, but Jack was right. Jack needed to make sure he
was ready for something a little more than frottage, especially
with how events had played out today. He needed to see if Jan was
okay with only Jack being there with him.

Gray listened
as the door to the en suite was opened. The sound of water hitting
tile came, but Gray stayed where he was. The tie found its way
loosely around his neck, then he tidied himself away before picking
up Jack’s coffee. Music from the stereo still played, and Gray
kicked off his shoes and padded over. The tastes there cried out
Jack, some Ministry of Sound mixes, Basement Jax, with Jan’s
eighties touch of Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet.

Gray pulled the
latter out, snorting a smile. Jan was modern romantic in music as
well as life too.

Andrei
Bocelli filled some of the shelves, along with Vivaldi’s
Four
Seasons
, and
Pachelbel’s Canon in D minor. Again most of Jack’s taste, when he
was going through his...
I’m not a boy
stage.

Despite a love
of the classics, being brought up in the Welsh countryside had
given Gray a love for the likes of Metallica and Iron Maiden. Much
better to fiddle backstage passes to gigs that could warm the Welsh
chill. And the invitation of a mosh pit always had offered a
release he never found in VIP roped-off areas. Playing both sides
had been a good lesson.

So when Gray
caught sight of the Tom Jones CD, he refused to let out a groan
seeing it there amongst Jan and Jack’s. Taking a sip of his coffee,
he tugged it out, catching the note written on it.

No,
not for you, Gray. Borrowed this from my mother. She’s partial to a
bit of Welsh so wipe that moody brow off your face. Yours is in the
drawer to the right. You can thank me and ask how I know
later.

Love,
Jan.

Love. Giving a
frown as he placed the CD back in its place, Gray then pulled open
the drawer off to his right and snorted a smile. There was
everything in there from Hendrix to Warlock, a German rock group
he’d once seen live with a close friend over in Germany.

The touch
was... Jan, and Gray distractedly ran an index finger along one
line of the potential playlist. Then he finished his coffee and
pulled out some Gary Moore. “Parisienne Walkways” was always a
favourite. As the guitar riff haunted the bedroom, Gray took his
cup, picked up the uneaten sandwich, and headed on back to the
kitchen. The shower kept silent as he passed, and Gray shifted his
head in the direction of the master bedroom. The door was slightly
ajar, allowing a hushed voice to filter through. Jack told Jan
about Logan, and for a while there had been anger, then quiet, then
softer talking that filtered down into whispers.

“I’ve seen Gray
work, Jack.” Jan’s gentle worry came on deep breaths, each word
given a long pause, as though he’d forget what to say each time and
needed time to think. “I know he’ll handle Logan.” Each stretch of
time came with the sound of tender touch... of both of them licking
wounds and testing out the possibility of new memories, adding to
the guitar riffs and giving it a private beat all of its own.

Keeping his
footfalls light so as not to disturb, Gray made it into the kitchen
and washed up. When his father hadn’t been overseas on MI6 cases,
he’d always taught that once the door was locked of a night,
nothing existed but the people close by. And that’s when normality
would kick in. His father would just as easily pick up a dishcloth
as he would a sidearm. The majority of it coming from a natural
instinct to please, but that was his father’s natural instinct.
Part of Gray’s natural instinct had helped tear open the rift
between them.

A lot of his
youthful anger towards his father had long since faded. It should
have been enough to get communication started between them again,
between Ed, but the damage had long since been done, and distance
kept. His loss over not finding the courage to talk to his father
was echoed between Jack and Greg, and the fear was there that Jack
would lose everything they had as father and son. But Gray couldn’t
force either side, Jack or Greg, into a conversation that they
weren’t ready for. He had his own experience to go by on that
score.