OVERTIME (35 page)

Jagger laughed. “That’s Colton—always looking out for me.”

“How long before you think we bring you over to the dark side of our debauchery? I can’t stand tan lines,” Landry joked.

“It won’t be long now.
Soooooo
…about the touching thing,” Jagger prodded. He fucking wanted to know how Landry did it. He was convinced there was a solution for his problem and it was within his grasp. Landry dangled it in front of him and he just needed to reach out and snatch it.

“Let me ask you this. Did you stay home and take the abuse or did you run away and take your chances on the street? I ran,” Landry said and then quickly added, “There isn’t a right or wrong answer, Jagger. We both did the best we could under shitty circumstances. I’m just trying to get to know you better. I think we’re going to be the best of friends.” He winked. “So, did you stay or go?”

“I stayed,” Jagger answered. He was ashamed to say he’d never even really considered running away. There were about a million times he’d imagined himself being somewhere else, but he’d never thought to actually take a step in the direction of freedom—not until his dream of going to college on a basketball scholarship. Why? Why the hell hadn’t he even considered running away? He knew why and it made him sick. “I stayed because I was a coward. I stayed because he convinced me it was my fault and I deserved everything he did to me. I fucking stayed because I worried about who would take care of him since mom was gone.”

Landry reached over and laid his hand on the arm of Jagger’s chair, never touching him but offering support at the same time. “I ran because I was a coward. I ran because I was convinced I was soft and he was never going to be able to turn me into a man. I fucking ran because I knew I would continue to be a disappointment and I didn’t want my parents to have to face that shit every day,” Landry countered. He looked directly at Jagger and said, “I want you to understand one thing, Jagger. We may have taken different paths but I’ll be damned if I ever say either of us took the wrong path. We were fucking kids and we did the best job we could with the shit-sandwich we’d been served.”

Jagger looked down at Landry’s hand still resting innocently on the arm of his chair and thought about what he’d said. He hadn’t revealed much about himself or what he’d gone through but he already felt like a ton had been lifted from his shoulders. Like the tears last night, he felt like the floodgates were finally about to open.

“Shit-sandwich? That’s a pretty accurate analogy. So you ran away? Where did you go? Are you from around here?” He figured that must be how Landry had hooked up with Rory and Colton. Rory’s words from yesterday came back to him. Landry had hooked Haven up with the two teenagers who had been living on the streets, prostituting themselves for food.

Landry smiled. “I was raised in Jersey and when I left home, I eventually made my way to New York City. I was fifteen years old and in my young mind, all the homeless kids lived in New York. I just knew that if I could get there, everything would be alright. I would be surrounded with other kids like me and we’d hang together. Look out for each other. Watch each other’s back and have a big fat fucking slumber party.” He laughed a bitter laugh. “Turns out, I was just a wee bit off on how things work out on the streets. It’s pretty much a dog-eat-dog world and those mother fuckers will cut you faster than you can ask them if they’d like to be your friend. I turned my first trick after I’d been in New York for only six days. Yep, I let a strange man fuck my ass,
bareback
, for a club sandwich at the diner next to the alley where he took me. After that first time, it got easier and easier for me. I took greater risks.” He looked directly into Jagger’s eyes. “See, Jag, I swung in the total opposite direction than you did. I touched everybody and let everybody touch me. I had zero boundaries and would do just about anything they asked just so they would be nice to me. I fucking lived for the compliments.”

“Shit,” Jagger whispered, hating what Landry had gone through and hating himself for being such a pussy and whining about his shitty life when Landry had suffered through so much more.

“Nu-uh,” Landry said quickly. “Don’t you dare look at me like
that
.
I won’t ever pity you and I expect the same courtesy from you. Like I said earlier, Jagger, we did what we had to do to survive. Hell, we’re still doing what we have to do to try and deal with all the shit in our pasts. Mine is no different than yours—I just took a different path. Don’t. Dare. Pity. Me. Understood?”

Jagger took a deep breath. There was so much beauty surrounding him. The lush greenery belonging to the island and the beautiful bright flowers that accompanied it. Rory’s pool was exquisite and looked like something from a hotel. The guys, especially Colton, were drop-dead gorgeous. Landry’s big fat heart and all the love he still had in him after what he’d been through—it was breathtakingly beautiful. He was so fucking ugly on the inside. How could Landry do it? How could he be bubbling with love and enthusiasm for life? More importantly,
why couldn’t Jagger? Obviously what he’d been through as a kid was nothing compared to what Landry had suffered.

“It wasn’t pity, Landry. It was loathing for myself. How the hell can you be this big bright beacon of sunshine, loving and touching everybody you come in contact with, and I’m this black rain cloud threatening to open up and destroy everything surrounding me?” He wanted to get up and run. He wanted to smash his fist into a wall. He considered jumping into the pool and just sitting his ass on the bottom concrete until he drowned. More than that, he wanted to cut himself. Fuck, it had been so long…would feel so deliciously good. It would make his pain vanish away, at least for a few minutes. At this point, a few minutes would be nice.

Landry smiled sadly. “See? How each of us sees things can be so incredibly different. When I look at you, I see a man who was handed a sorry-ass life and you turned it into an over-the-top success. You stayed home and took your beatings like a fucking man. You worked hard, harder at basketball and school than I’ve ever worked at anything in my entire life, and you earned a scholarship that helped you make an escape that didn’t involve prostituting yourself. When I look at you, I see strength, solid and unwavering. I see somebody that holds his heart tight within his chest, only giving it out to someone deserving of the love it can offer.”

Landry’s hand gripped the arm rest so tightly that Jagger feared it could snap at any moment. Fuck, but he’d felt that kind of intense pain before, knew all the things going on inside the other man’s head at the moment.

“When I look at me, I see a whore. I see a weak whore that fucked his way to freedom.” Landry laughed bitterly. “See? Just different interpretations for the same situation,” he explained.

Jagger didn’t know what to say. Landry was right—he definitely viewed their situations totally different than Landry did. In his mind, it was a complete reversal. Landry was the strong one, grabbing life with one hand and riding that bull with a carefree spirit that Jagger found intoxicating. He was always one second away from bursting out with one of his carefree laughs or cheering up an entire crowd with his flirty ways.

“That’s not how I see you,” Jagger finally answered.

“I know that,” Landry answered. “I also know that isn’t how any of these guys see me, but it still doesn’t take the vision away from me. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not always walking around thinking shit about myself. Some days, I’m fine and dandy, thankful I survived, and
ready to face my next challenge like mother-fucking Captain America.” He shrugged. “Other days I just want to crawl under the covers and suck my thumb.”

“You guys doing okay over here?” Colton asked, breaking into their conversation with a worried expression on his face. He squatted next to Jagger and one hand gripped his hand and the other massaged his thigh in a reassuring gesture. “It was beginning to look pretty intense and I thought I might need to saunter over and lighten things up a bit—maybe do a lap dance for my pretty Wildcat,” he joked. His eyes searched Jagger’s face for some guidance on whether he needed to step in or do a disappearing act.

Jagger was surprised to realize he was doing fine. On one hand, talking with Landry was intensely scary because it forced him to think about things he always tried to keep tucked away. On the other, it felt fucking good to talk to somebody that understood, that had walked in his shoes, although a different path, but had walked in them, nonetheless. His feelings for Colton were strong and probably as close to love as somebody like him could ever get but, because of that very reason, it kept him twisted up in knots most of the time. He was terrified he was going to do something to totally fuck it up. He didn’t want to fuck it up. Not this time.

“We are doing good, just chatting about life,” Jagger answered, suspecting Colton wouldn’t believe it was truly fine unless the words came from him. God, but his eyes were gorgeous, just melting with the softest expression possibly. He had been worried about him, his eyes revealing just how much. “I’m okay, Colton, I promise,” he added quietly.

“You know I don’t bite unless asked to,” Landry joked. “Now, take your sweet ass to my favorite place and grab us all a spicy Cuban.” He turned to Jagger. “You haven’t eaten a Cuban until you’ve had one from this place.” He kissed the tip of his fingers like a total moron. “Delicious!”

Colton checked his watch. “It is past noon already.” His attention focused on Jagger again. “Are you okay with me sneaking out for a few minutes? Landry’s right; those Cubans are the best in the world.”

Jagger rolled his eyes. “I’m perfectly fine without you standing guard over me.” Then, shocking himself and everybody within a fifty mile radius, he leaned forward and crashed his lips against Colton’s mouth, demanding attention and using his tongue to spar for dominance. It didn’t work. Colton had him plastered against the back of the chair and was working his sweet
magic within seconds. That was fine; succumbing to Colton’s charms was pretty fan-fucking-
tatistic.

“I know you’re fine without me standing guard over you, doll face. I just enjoy doing it so damned much. It makes me feel useful, so cut me some slack with it, okay?” This time the kiss was quick but just as heartfelt. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Don’t let Landry talk you into any of his BDSM shit without me here to protect you. He’s not as sweet and innocent as he looks,” Colton warned with a laugh. “See you in a few, babe.”

“Let’s get Cubans, Rory! Come with!” Colton roared.

Jagger watched the tight ass walking away from him and it made him fucking dizzy with need. Everything about the man got his blood humming.

“Ahhhh
—how cute. You were looking at his ass!” Landry accused with a snicker. “Drool is literally dribbling down your chin right now!”

“Shut up, smartass,” Jagger said but wiped at his chin just to make sure. After a few minutes, he dove back into their conversation. “I can’t imagine you hiding under the covers, much less sucking your thumb. You act like you have life by the balls and you aren’t afraid of anything. I’m so fucking jealous.”

“Well, as you very well know, images can be very misleading. Some days I’m barely hanging on but other days, I feel like I’m taking huge strides toward being okay.” He looked at Jagger. “Talking with you helps. A lot. I’ve talked with Rory and Colton because helping people is what they love to do but it’s different with you—you understand, first-hand experience shit, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. I feel the same way. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve talked to anybody about my shit,” Jagger admitted. Actually, he didn’t think it; he
knew
it. He hadn’t ever shared. He hadn’t thought anybody had ever cared.

“Tell me, Jag, what do you do to help ease the pain? Help you feel like you’re getting some control? What helps you when things get rough?”

Fuck, now this was a secret he hadn’t ever intended to share with another living soul. Scars were virtually gone and he hadn’t dabbled in months. Of course, being near Colton, dealing with the emotions he brought to the game, had made him consider it…desire it, fantasize about it when his mind wasn’t busy fantasizing about Colton’s cock in his ass. The burning need to cut
was almost too strong to overcome and he suspected that was because he was finally allowing his emotions out of the frozen prison they’d lived in for the past sixteen years.

“What do you do?” He countered, still not quite ready to share that part of his life. Shame was a deadly bitch the majority of the time and while he enjoyed the cutting,
needed
the cutting, he was still ashamed.

Landry snorted out a laugh. “I thought that obvious! I get fucked. Well, I try not to use fucking as my control crutch that often anymore, but it still happens from time to time and it definitely used to be my method of dealing. It helped me feel like I was in control for at least a few minutes. The guy fucking me—he wanted me and did I ever want to feel fucking wanted. I felt like it was the only way to measure my worth—how well I fucked.” He laughed again. “Rory and Colton helped me move away from the dangers of that lifestyle so now I dabble in BDSM. It helps. Hell, Jag, talk about control. BDSM is all about control—in a
good
way.” He popped his lips and made an exaggerated smacking sound. “If you get a Dom that knows what he is doing, he can take all those painful, ugly memories and turn them into a big fat present wrapped up with Christmas paper, a giant bow, and covered with glitter. A good Dom can take me to the edge,
right on the edge
, and then bring me back again. It makes me feel powerful, like I’m strong enough to overcome any fucking thing in the world.” He shrugged shyly, obviously surprised by how caught up he’d gotten in the moment. “I mean…you know…if you find the right Dom.”