by J P Sayle
To say he’d been devastated by Joe’s full confession would be an understatement. How could someone so lovely end up with a fucking maniac? Christ, how he had even survived and then be able to offer Stuart his trust, was beyond him. Stuart settled himself, leaning back glancing skyward, he noticed a few cobwebs, distracted for a second. He snorted at his ridiculous urge to get the Dust Buster out of the cupboard.
Rolling himself back up, feeling the tension gather at the base of his neck. Shit, he had more important things to worry about, like a lunatic that could be stalking his boyfriend.
It showed the strength of Joe’s character, the length of time he’d kept going under such extreme pressure. Stuart could feel pride at Joe’s accomplishment. He’d escaped an awful relationship, the torment Joel had inflicted after, or tried to, coming out and bearing his soul, took guts. Stuart wasn’t sure he had what it took to do the same thing.
Stuart trembled, his own fear palpable when he considered what would happen if Joel managed to get his hands on Joe. Bouncing up, incapable of thinking about what Joel could inflict on his sweet Joe. The macabre coloured pictures Joe had already painted for him would haunt him for the rest of his life.
He paced, pulling his lip in worry. Questions sprang into his mind. How secure is the house? Can someone break in without us knowing? Joe is a genius with electronics; surely he should be able come up with something to protect and alert us if there is an intruder? But what about when he is outside, groaning Stuart dropped his head into his hands, how could they prepare for every eventuality?
Why hadn’t he thought about this earlier when Joe had talked about Joel? Raking his hands through his hair, Stuart threw his arms up in disgust. He knew why, his fucking cock had taken over, leaving all his good sense at the door, and look where that had gotten him, a shed load of worry and no solutions.
Ominous creaking sounded out when he threw himself into the rocking chair next to the fire. Stuart discounted the noise, instead looking about the lounge. He could see Joe’s small little touches everywhere, new candles scattered over every flat surface around the fire. Knickknacks, stones from the beach, gathered from his walks sat on the wooden bookshelf. Joe’s books intermingled with his showing his eclectic taste, poetry, horror, romance, and sci-fi dominated the collection. How had he not noticed Joe was making this his own space?
Stuart reflected on the ever-growing collection of potted herbs that sat on his kitchen window ledge, Joe used them daily for cooking. The candles he’d also scattered around the surfaces in the kitchen, Joe lit when they were having their evening meal. Fresh flowers, new kitchen gadgets, hell, now that Stuart took notice, the place was full of new stuff. A startled laugh burst out, his smile stretched across his face when he considered every room in the house. Joe was making this his home. Warmth spread, his thoughts finally catching up with the reality they had been living in, Joe was building a home for Stuart, for them. His heart practically melted into a puddle at the understanding he’d failed to miss. Joe may not be ready to say the words, but his actions were very fucking telling indeed.
The sound of the front door rattling had Stuart pouncing out of the chair towards the hall, his smile making his face feel too small to contain it, his newfound revelations had love pounding through him, wanting to be set free.
Words of love died as Stuart halted, his smile dying when he registered it wasn’t Joe and Aaden but a stranger standing in his hallway. “What the fuck!” His words burst out as he glanced at the door hanging open. Stuart’s mind struggled to understand how or why someone would just walk into his home unannounced. Seconds ticked by as both men faced off. Tension built, Stuart braced himself, unsure what the hell was going on. Tiny hairs all over his body rose in alarm making his body tingle.
It took a moment but something about the stranger rang a bell, his face was familiar, but he couldn’t remember from where. His sheer size was giving him real cause for concern, calculating that he must be at least a couple of inches taller than him. It was the sheer size and breadth of him that made Stuart’s stomach knot in fear. Hell, he can almost compete with Aaden. Muscles bulged everywhere, even his clothes didn’t diminish or hide his sheer strength and size.
Warning bells started ringing loudly in his brain. Stuart’s frown deepened as he took him in, clothes that resembled those Aaden wore. The dark combat trousers stretched tightly over massive thighs, tapering as they tucked into black army style boots. The over-large combat jacket hid whatever was underneath. The numerous pockets he could see had him wondering why you would need so many.
The thought was quickly replaced with anger when he finally got a load of his face. Cold slate grey eyes glowered down at him. Large lips appeared to curl in distaste before he snarled at Stuart. Not thinking twice he stepped up into the stranger’s space, making sure he didn’t come any further into his home.
“Who are you, and what the hell do you think you’re doing in my home?” His righteous anger seemed only to make the bigger man happy. Stuart watched a maniacal smile spread across his face. High slashing cheekbones and full lips lost their beauty when you looked into his cold dead eyes.
Trembling, Stuart watched something akin to evil slither across the man’s features. Whatever it was it had his stomach heaving, not wanting to back down, but the urge to step back had him stealing his spine. The silence lengthened, compelling him to speak Stuart enunciated every word. “What the fuck are you doing in my home, I won’t ask again?” Stuart’s quiet tone belied the anger that seeped into every word.
The man stood stock still for another moment before he slowly pulled his hand up, only then did Stuart realise it held something. Too late, too late, his mind screamed, reality merging with the horror waving in front of him. The light in the hall caught the metal making it gleam garishly. His fear dried his mouth when the man pointed the gun at him.
“Come on. We don’t want your little boyfriend coming back too soon and spoiling my fun, now do we?” The words froze his insides. Joel, fuck, fuck, fuck.
The loud snick had him fixated on his beefy hand, almost mesmerised as the man pulled back the trigger of the gun.
“I won’t ask again.” The ominous growl had Stuart’s feet moving towards Joel. His mind had other ideas, shrieking at him to run. Stuart tried to comprehend what was happening, but his fear for Joe had him obeying. His mind frantically searched for a solution as his heart rate skyrocketed.
Could he make a run for it when they got outside, could he draw attention to what was going on, or would that make the situation worse? Fuck, what if one of the kids in the street got caught up in this madness?
Stuart so focused on a solution jumped at the loud vitriolic screech. The small flying black silky ball landed slap bang on the hand holding the gun. His shout lost under the sound of the gun firing. He felt his heart stuttering in horror. He knew his mouth was gaping open, watching in terror as Princess dropped to the floor like a stone, the thud ominous. Princess lay in a heap, unmoving.
Nausea rose hard and fast, breathing in through his mouth when his nose burnt with the scents of greasy oil and tainted copper. Stuart felt the wetness slide down his frozen cheeks, emotions overwhelming him. A dark stain spread out from under Princess matting her fur and staining the wooden floor. Moving without thinking Stuart went to help Princess, bending down before a sharp, sudden pain at the back of his head, had lights dancing before his eyes. The pain had his limbs dissolving, collapsing next to Princess he tried to focus on clearing his vision. An agonising pain exploded at the side of his head making everything fade into nothingness.
“Fucking stupid cat!” Joel’s booted foot kicked the cat out of the way before he yanked the man on the ground by his hair towards the door. Joel hoisted the man’s dead weight into his arms, making them flex as he threw him over his shoulder. Glancing down briefly at the bloody floor and smirking. “That’ll fucking teach you.” Maniacal laughter floated into the crisp night air.
He hadn’t wanted to
get into anything right there, but that fucking stupid cat thought it knew better as if a tiny foolish cat would be able to hurt or stop him. His laughter continued at the cat’s stupidity, he looked down at the bloodied scratches it had managed to inflict. Shaking his head, he’d suffered worse than that in war-torn countries, what were a few fucking scratches going to do to him?
Opening the van door, Joel threw the man onto the floor, loving the sound of his head bouncing off the metal flooring. He sighed in displeasure. It was a pity he was out cold he would have enjoyed watching him suffer the severe knock.
Barely winded, he sneered at the house opposite before stepping back and locking the van door. He reassured himself there would be plenty of time to play when they reached their destination. His cold grey eyes glinted with satisfaction at the thought.
Joel felt the thrill course through him at his find, security could have been a real issue on such a small island, but he thought he had found a faultless solution. The building he’d found while scouting was perfect for what he wanted. The old bike museum had been closed to the public for several months, and was in good repair, with electricity—though he’d been careful about using it. No one appeared to visit, but he couldn’t be too cautious. The last thing he needed was to attract attention in the last few weeks.
Situated on the only mountain on the island, its position ideal. It sat high up, back off the main road. The windows offered a magnificent panoramic view, stopping anyone from sneaking up on him. To travel to it was either by foot, or the one road that accessed the front of the building. It’s only entrance to that road was from the main mountain road, leaving very little to chance. Joel had made sure to take care of the rest, setting up sensors to trigger if anyone got too close. He couldn’t be too careful with Joe’s abilities.
He’d spent weeks creating a cover story, his patience wearing thin. But he’d managed to befriend the dirty boy’s trials riders, implementing the second phase of his plan. So, travelling around the museum wouldn’t cast up any suspicion, he’d made going across the mountain on his trails bike the norm for him, giving plausibility if questioned for any reason.
He had parked his motorcycle inside the museum earlier, finally confident to set his plans in motion. The only fly in the ointment had been Aaden, the big bastard had arrived a few days before, scuppering his plans on abducting Joe. He’d barely contained his rage, the inside of the museum taking his full rath. He knew he couldn’t afford for the big bastard to come after him. Absently Joel rubbed his arm, feeling the endless ache, a constant reminder of what Aaden could do with just a few fingers. Hell, by the time Aaden had finished with him he would have confessed to anything to get him to stop. And he had, much to his own disgust.
Snarling at the house across the road, knowing Aaden and Joe were just mere metres away. Joel still couldn’t figure out what Aaden’s game was. He had figured out pretty quickly when Aaden arrived that they weren’t fucking, now at least. No, the other fucker was instead. Joel breathed in deep to try and let the anger settle inside. He slowly unclenched his fists.
Focusing back on Aaden, Joel still wanted to know why he wanted to help Joe. Deep down inside he felt his anger unfurl stronger this time; doubts crowded his mind. The voice inside telling him he was missing something important. Joe had always denied there was anything other than friendship. Lies, utter lies had continued to pour from those luscious lips, making him lose control. He blamed Joe for his fingers seemingly taking on a will of their own, wanting to crush Joe’s windpipe to stop the lies from bleeding out. Not sure what had prevented him from taking his life, when all he could taste was their lies, but somehow he had, and now he was paying for it.
So now it was time to make them all pay, and he would. Those fuckers were laughing at him all this time, taking what belonged to him, his property. He’d seen what had gone on in the hall the day before. They thought they’d be safe, but he’d managed to pick the lock and get into the garden. His view, though obstructed, had confirmed his suspicions and he may not be able to make Joe pay right now, but he could make his little fuck buddy pay.
Aaden wouldn’t give a damn about this man, he was sure of that, if he got to keep Joe to himself. Joel felt the pain radiate down his neck, his jaw clenched tightly at the thought. Anger shook his giant body, making his blood thrum through his veins, clouding his mind with his temper. Breathing deep, trying to focus past the red haze that was getting harder and harder to manage every day. Joel revved the engine, letting the vibrations soothe him for a few seconds before putting it in gear. Joel shot forward out of the cul-de-sac.
Catching sight of Joe’s van in his rear-view mirror had an urge to turn his van around and slam into it, taking his breath away. Struggling to calm himself he gripped the steering wheel, leather cracking under his stiff fingers. Crushing the wheel, he pushed his foot to the floor heading out of the village, away from temptation.
Joel drove with the confidence of being undetected, mapping out his route before coming to Joe’s house. The darkened sky and lack of moonlight worked in his favour. Having let the white Ford transit van become filthy, to make it unobtrusive to anyone that chose to look. He had hidden the number plate under layers of carefully applied mud. Planned with precision, now he just needed to get back and dump his load before anyone tried to stop him.
The whimper from the rear of the van soothed as a mother’s lullaby would, taking the edge off of his ever-growing temper. His eyes gleamed back at him from the rear-view mirror. Hate and spite looked back at the crumpled man on the floor of the van. Joel’s maniacal smile spread twisting his features, hate taking hold.
Joe would pay; he’d make them all pay one way or another for what they had done to him. He just needed to stick to his new plan, his new plan was much better.
Joe fidgeted watching Aaden open the front door. Maybe he should have let Stuart come too? He could tell he’d pissed him off by insisting he stay with Princess, but fuck, he’d promised to look after her. He was already feeling guilty for leaving her all day, this thing between her and Max was going to be a bloody nuisance if he couldn’t go to Aaden’s without worrying Princess was going to misbehave.
As if Max knew he was thinking about him, he lumbered down the stairs, his massive body hardly clearing the steps. Joe wondered, is there such a thing as a cat weight club? Looking at Max he considered if he suffered with cat obesity, cause Aaden maybe needed to consider enrolling him and fast, before he couldn’t move his large ass around.
Following Aaden into the makeshift living room, Joe noticed they had cleared the wet wallpaper away. He couldn’t stop the sigh of relief, he’d been dreading the prospect of tidying up the sticky mess he’d made. He could still smell the dank wetness as he breathed in. Tasting the gluey steamed air made him want to gag. He coughed, hoping it would clear, grimacing at the prospect of sleeping here for next few days till they’d finished.
Aaden had refused his offer twice to stay with them, so he wasn’t going to bother his ass again. But still, he couldn’t understand why Aaden wouldn’t want a nice cosy bed, in a house that smelt decidedly better than this one, over his sleeping bag on a hard floor. He really didn’t get him at times, shrugging off his concern he looked for a place to sit.
Seeing the only remaining furniture was the old rickety kitchen chairs, Joe perched his ass on the edge not wanting to get dirty, while Aaden busied himself rooting through his large rucksack.
Joe gave the room another once over. He could see the potential now that the shit brown walls were bare, the carpets cleared out, along with the dense dark curtains. He had personally taken those and put them in the bin, as far as he was concerned they weren’t even fit for dust rags.
The room appeared bigger, seemingly larger he was convinced, and no one would tell him otherwise, because it was free from dreary shit brown. He knew he’d harped on about it, but he couldn’t get over how much of it there was in that small house. Ms Stevens must have bought the whole island stock; he sh
uddered at the thought of being surrounded by it daily.
Trying not to think about it, Joe looked at the windows. They would offer a decent view of what was currently an overgrown garden. Peering out into the darkening evening, Joe felt that if Aaden cut it back, it could allow more light into the room. It was just a little hard to tell with the evening drawing in.
Joe tried to remember which way the house faced. He thought the back of the house would probably get most of the sun in the day time. For him that would be a real advantage in the summer as he loved nothing more than pottering in a garden. Joe imagined the sun reflecting off gleaming wood floors with subtle green walls. He let his mind’s eye see the possibilities, not noticing Max amble over to the rickety chair next to him.
Ominous creaking startled Joe from his thoughts. Hiding his amusement behind his hand, he watched Max heft himself up into the chair. “Hey, boy, we need to find you something a little more sturdy cause the noise that chair is making, says it will need to be reinforced to hold your weight. At this rate you could end up on your ass, hey?” Bicoloured eyes fixed their beady gaze on Joe, pinning him to the chair. Joe quickly remembered he needed his hands to work, so he tucked them under his legs. He couldn’t be too careful. Back pedalling, he tried to rectify the situation before he got into more hot water. “I was thinking you needed something a little more majestic for such a gorgeous big boy.”
Aaden’s boisterous laughter roared behind him, swivelling around, Joe gave him a ‘fuck off’ salute. Turning back Joe ignored Aaden, catching Max’s dangerous expression. Joe barely resisted hunching into the chair when Max stared him down. What is it with these bloody cats, first Princess now bloody Max was giving him grief, hell, I was only worried he’d fall through the ruddy chair, for God’s sake.
