When Death Frees the Devil

by L. J. Hayward

  Right now, he didn’t look like that would happen any time soon. His left leg was suspended in traction and tubes drained bloody fluid from his abdomen. Ten’s blows had busted Ethan’s spleen, causing the internal bleed out. Most of the skin Jack could see was either mottled with black and green bruising or even paler than usual. At least he wasn’t intubated anymore and breathing on his own, just nasal prongs for oxygen.

  Tears traced down Jack’s cheeks. His vital, vibrant Ethan. He’d come so close to losing him forever. Might still lose him to any number of complications.

  Jack finally got himself moving and sat in the chair next to the bed. There was a heartrate monitor on Ethan’s finger, cannulas in his arms and bandages across his chest and belly. Jack wanted to hold him close, protect him from the world, but all he could do was brush a finger along the side of his arm, from wrist to shoulder and back again.

  “It’s me,” he said softly. “I’m here now and I’m not leaving until you wake up. Everything’s over, Ethan. The Cabal is gone and we got Simmons. I quit, too. The Office is just going to have to do without me. Find someone else to take all their hits for them. Except maybe that’ll change when Lew is properly in charge. Anyway, I’m unemployed now and think I’d like to take you up on that kept man option we discussed a while back. Thing is, Ethan, you gotta be there to keep me. You promised you wouldn’t leave me again and fuck it, you’re not going to, even if I have to keep dragging you back by the scruff of your neck.”

  “You’d try.”

  Air caught in Jack’s throat. The words were quiet and croaky, but they’d definitely come from Ethan. Resisting the urge to lunge in and kiss him, Jack settled for, “I’d win that fight.”

  Eyes still closed, Ethan whispered, “I’d let you.”

  “Jesus.” Jack pressed his face to Ethan’s arm, tears falling freely. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  “The way I feel, I think you nearly did.” His hand fluttered as if reaching for something. “Glasses?”

  “Oh, shit. Yeah.” Jack scrambled in his pockets and pulled out his own pair. “Here.” He stood and leaned over to slip them on.

  After a moment, Ethan’s dry lips turned up in a smile. “Hello, Jack.”

  “Hello, crazy bastard.”

  “Half right, Jack.”

  Jack zipped the Ducati through evening traffic, the late winter wind biting even through the leather jacket. He hadn’t gotten the usual call from Ethan for a ride home but he was heading out to the rented garage anyway. It had been a long, busy day and Jack needed to see him sooner rather than later. Thankfully the traffic wasn’t too bad in the outer suburbs and Jack turned into the complex minutes later. The sound of the smooth-as-fuck motorbike warned Ethan and the door was opening as Jack rolled up to it. Inside, he parked beside a polished and now completely whole Victoria.

  “You finished her,” he said after taking off his helmet.

  Ethan leaned against the car, braced leg bent to keep his weight off it. Several operations later and it was now as good as new and just needed the added support for a while longer. Part of his recovery process—according to Ethan if not his doctors—was fixing up the damage Jack had caused Victoria while rescuing Mati and her friend from Seven. Jack suspected it wasn’t so much the physicality of the work as the soothing presence of the car and actions Ethan knew and loved that had helped revitalise him.

  “This morning. I spent the rest of the day getting her immaculate for the barbeque tomorrow.”

  Jack swung off the bike and stepped up to him. “It’s just the family, no one important.”

  Snorting, Ethan slung his arms around Jack’s neck. “Hmm. No one important indeed.”

  Unable to hide a smile, Jack buried it in Ethan’s neck. The return of Meera and Mati to his life had been a welcome if weird change. He suspected if he’d watched Mati grow into the young woman she was now, he wouldn’t be so flabbergasted when she shifted from serious discussions about politics to giggling prankster almost as fast as Ethan changed gears while racing. Meera, he was learning, was the same annoying big sister he remembered, even though her pestering seemed more about improving his life than criticising his choices now.

  He took a deep breath of Ethan while he was there, letting the scents of sweat, oil—car oil, not gun oil these days—and soap roll through him. Ethan slid his hands down Jack’s spine, and then back up, under the leather jacket and the suit one beneath it. Palms running up and down, Ethan pressed against him, sighing in contentment.

  “How did the interview go?”

  It took Jack a moment to register the words, and then a few more to remember what they referred to. Honestly, he was quite happy to simply stay right where he was for the rest of his life. The rest of the world could catch on fire and he wouldn’t care. It wasn’t his job to care anymore.

  “Jack? The interview?”

  “Uh. Okay. It went okay.” Leaning back, he rolled his eyes. “I got the job. Don’t worry, you won’t have to support me forever.”

  It had been a surprise to get a call from his old “on paper” boss at the International Security Office, where he’d been a Specialist Security Advisor as a cover for working at the Office. He knew how to do the job and do it well but his relationship with John Axworthy, the officer in charge with the ISO, had been strained thanks to Jack not actually being his employee to use as he needed. Once his resignation from the Office had been finalised, so had his position at the ISO. Until Axworthy had offered it back to him.

  Ethan grinned. “Congratulations. I knew you would get it. And for the record, I don’t mind keeping you, but retirement doesn’t suit you, Jack. You were driving me crazy with your bored moaning and pestering.”

  “Crazier,” Jack corrected and got the laugh he needed to hear. “I made a few provisos though.”

  “Such as?” Ethan’s hands kept drifting lower and lower until they were right on Jack’s arse.

  “Such as I get to work from home. I’ll have to go to Canberra a couple of times a month for a day or so but that’s all. And I get to pick which overseas assignments I take, with a minimum of three a year.”

  “Sounds ideal.”

  Jack flexed his butt in Ethan’s hands. “You can do without me for that long, huh?”

  Ethan squeezed. “Perhaps. I suppose we’ll just have to see.” His voice had lowered and gotten huskier, and as much as Jack wanted to follow that path to its happy ending right then, he had his own question to ask before he chickened out.

  “Did you talk to Tan today?”

  Ethan went still. Jack waited him out, believing this had nothing to do with confusion, but with fear. They’d talked a lot while Ethan was laid up in bed, and he had told Jack about his worry that he didn’t know if he could be satisfied without the challenges his work had provided. He’d admitted to not following the Office requirements of keeping clear of illegal activities while Jack had been working with the police the year before. Part of it had been blackmail, but Ethan confessed he could have gotten out of it if he’d truly wanted. So he was concerned.

  Also, Ethan had signed a contract with the Office to work with ETA. Director Tan had been understanding in the wake of Ethan’s injuries, but now that he was all but completely recovered, he wouldn’t wait much longer.

  “Yes,” Ethan said cautiously. “I’ll go in to talk to him on Monday. Jack, I know this isn’t what you want anymore, but . . .”

  “It’s okay. I mean it. You’ve got to do what makes you happy or content or whatever.” Jack shrugged. “Keep the option open and if you find you need to do more or less, you can decide then.”

  “I suppose. If I did decide to work for Tan in the field, would you mind?”

  “I’d worry. A lot.” Not only was Jack not keen on Ethan going back into dangerous situations, he still wasn’t Tan’s biggest fan. His “ends justify the means” attitude was a little too close to the Cabal mentality for Jack’s complete peace of mind. “But it’s your choice.”

  Ethan
nodded, then kissed him. Soft and swift, but Jack followed his mouth when he pulled back, wanting another taste, another connection. Huffing, Ethan let him, kissing back when Jack pressed his tongue to his lips, seeking more. Ethan opened to him and Jack delved in, groaning as his man met him with teasing touches.

  God. This. So long as Jack got to do this forever, he didn’t care what either of them did the rest of the time. The way Ethan pushed into him, tilted his head to get better access, clutched at Jack’s arms, back, hair, all fed into him. It set off his chest grenade so that even while his heart wobbled, heat suffused him from head down to fingers and toes.

  Jack gripped Ethan’s arse and lifted. Legs wrapped around him and Ethan moaned as Jack sat him down on the boot of the car. Half expecting to be chided for the move, Jack was surprised when Ethan braced himself with one hand behind him and ground his hips into Jack’s, his hardening dick thickening even more in this position. Jack rutted back, kissing, nipping and licking his way along Ethan’s jaw to the sensitive spot behind his ear.

  “Jack!” Ethan’s legs hitched higher, pressing their groins even tighter together and Jack nearly came then and there.

  The recovery of their sexual relationship had been gradual, growing alongside Ethan’s physical recovery. Of necessity they’d been gentle and caring with each other. Which Jack had loved because he’d been feeling extra tender and attentive to Ethan since nearly losing him. Lately, though, Ethan had been hinting at more than slow, seductive blowjobs, or hand jobs in the shower, or rutting and rubbing on the couch. Jack didn’t care how they got off so long as they did it together. Ethan, on the other hand, seemed to have very specific ideas today. He wriggled and moaned, leaning back further and further, taking Jack with him. His hips rolled with increasing frequency, pushing at Jack until Jack’s dick was where he wanted it, pressed against Ethan’s arse.

  “Jack,” he almost whined. “I don’t want to wait anymore. I can’t wait anymore.”

  “Oh, fuck.” Jack ground on him, his dick almost ready to rip through underwear and pants.

  Ethan huffed, head dropping back. “Only if you get your act together and—” He broke off with a moan as Jack rubbed against him extra hard, then laughed when the motion sent him sliding across the super glossy surface of the car.

  “All right, fine.” Jack pulled back, hauling Ethan off Victoria as he went. “You’ll get fucked if you want, but it will be in bed at home, where I won’t have to wonder if it’s me or the car you’re hard for.”

  Ethan’s chuckle was beautifully wicked. “Even then, you’ll never know.”

  Grumbling, Jack chased him into the car, then got on the Ducati, which he’d accepted as a coming-home present the day Ethan was released from hospital. He could admit he loved it now, mostly because Ethan had told him how he’d fixed it up with Jack in mind, but also because it was an amazing ride. His old Ninja still got a run every now and then, and Ethan had mentioned using it when he was given the final all-clear, which made Jack tingly at the mere thought. He’d loved, too, the simple act of having Ethan on the back of whichever bike while Victoria was being fixed up. Jack would drop Ethan off at the garage in the morning and either stay with him—being pesky, apparently—or go do a few other things, then collect his man in the afternoon. Normal and simple and heartachingly cherished. Now that Victoria was finished, that would stop, but Jack was sure whatever mundane thing Ethan found to do would fascinate him just as much.

  Jack beat Ethan back to Bathurst Street, but waited for him in the garage. In the lift, they picked up almost exactly where they’d left off.

  “You know,” Jack muttered as he navigated his way from lift, to door, to bedroom with Ethan wound around him, kissing his neck, face, mouth, “you citing a sore leg isn’t going to fly as a reason for me to carry you around for much longer.” He released his hold under Ethan’s arse, prepared to let him drop onto the bed, but Ethan clung on, legs tightening, hands fisting up acres of leather.

  “I do recall you saying once that carrying me like this was hot.” He nipped Jack’s jaw.

  “I was younger then. And you weren’t carting around extra weight.”

  Ethan gasped and let go, falling back on the bed, arms flung over his head so his shirt—another one of Jack’s that seemed to just be Ethan’s now—rode up and exposed a quarter moon’s expanse of pale skin, dark trails of hair, and well defined abdominal muscles. “You’re the one who keeps feeding me pastries.”

  Shucking his jackets, Jack gently nudged Ethan’s brace. “I meant this.” Off came the tie and he started unbuttoning his shirt. “And for the record, you can eat as many pastries, fudge, and chocolate as you want and it won’t change a thing about how I feel about you. However, many more of these?” Another soft prod at the brace. “That might make me a bit grumpy.”

  The sunglasses came off—Jack had adjusted to living in Ethan’s twilight world happily as it meant he got to see all of him—and Ethan slid off the bed to stand in front of him. Wordlessly, without otherwise touching, he kissed Jack, a lingering, firm press of his lips. When he pulled back, he whispered, “Likewise.”

  Heart surging into his throat, Jack cleared it with several rough swallows, then in a husky rumble said, “It’s agreed.”

  Jack pulled the T-shirt off Ethan, helped him kick off his sneakers, then removed his shorts—a necessity with the brace, even in winter—and the undies. Watching that hard dick bounce free of confinement had Jack dropping to his knees. He tugged on Ethan’s hips so he sat on the edge of the bed, then hooked his knees over his shoulders and licked a long, wet strip from taint, over balls and up the thick shaft to flick the tip of his tongue over his frenulum.

  Ethan thumped back into the mattress and he let out a long moan. Jack massaged the back of his thighs as he kissed up and down his dick, stopping to suck at the tight skin every now and then, moving on to pull Ethan’s balls into his mouth. Ethan went non-verbal almost immediately. The priming at the garage had left him on a hair trigger and he was writhing and fidgeting as Jack teased. He wasn’t the only one eager for more. Jack all but ripped open his own clothes to finish stripping. He had to back off for a moment to get his shoes and pants off. Ethan watched him with narrowed eyes and stifled a groan when Jack took himself in a tight grip and pumped.

  Christ. It never failed to do his head in, seeing Ethan want him, knowing it was only Jack who did this for him. It wasn’t an egotistical thing, but an oh-shit-don’t-let-me-screw-this-up-for-him thing. It was an amazing turn on and a scary honour, one Jack would do anything to uphold.

  Back on his knees, Jack took Ethan in his mouth, savouring the flavour and the shape and the weight. He sucked and licked until Ethan was gasping and his thighs were jumping, then Jack pulled off.

  “So, I was thinking I should probably drive to the barbeque tomorrow.”

  Ethan’s head popped up and he stared at Jack with his assassin expression in place. “Why would you think that?”

  Jack dipped his head and lapped playfully along Ethan’s shaft. “Well, you drove home today and apparently your leg was so sore from that I had to carry you from the lift to the bed. Seems to me a longer drive would only make—hey! That’s my head.” He tumbled backwards onto his arse, laughing as Ethan returned his good foot to the floor.

  “Might I remind you that I have only just finished fixing Victoria from the last time you drove her?” Ethan sat up, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. His still thick dick belied the accusation in his tone.

  “That wasn’t the last time I drove her,” Jack reminded him, slinking back into the gap between Ethan’s legs. He nuzzled his face into Ethan’s belly. “I managed to not prang her up further while you were in hospital.” Slowly worked his way back down to Ethan’s dick and ran his cheek over the head, loving Ethan’s sharp intake of breath as he felt the five o’clock shadow.

  “I suppose that is a point in your favour,” Ethan conceded a little breathlessly. “I’m not convinced however.”

  “Oka
y, how about this?” Jack lifted Ethan’s legs up, tipping him onto his back, and peppered kisses across his thighs, dick and balls between words. “If I make you come twice tonight, I get to drive.”

  Snorting, Ethan said, “Challenge yourself, Jack. You make me come twice most of the time.”

  “Fine. Three times.”

  Ethan’s foot nudged at Jack’s head again.

  “Four? You really think you’ve got it in you?”

  “I rather think, Jack, that it’s you who needs to believe I have it in me.”

  Jack grinned. “You’re on.”

  Minutes later, after swallowing, he said triumphantly, “That’s one.”

  Still purring, Ethan hauled himself up the bed so he was lying on it completely and rolled to his belly. “Pace yourself, Jack. This is a marathon, not a sprint.”

  Jack crawled over him and fetched the lube from the bedside table drawer. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about your own stamina than mine?”

  “Enough talking. More shagging.”

  Laughing, Jack obeyed. Kneeling between Ethan’s legs, he lubed up his fingers and worked the first one into his impatient man. He all but hypnotised himself by dragging his other hand over all that smooth, pale flesh on display for him, lining his fingers up with the faded scars that never failed to tug at his heart painfully. After the medics had stabilised him on board the navy frigate, they’d reported on all the injuries Ethan had suffered while being held by the Cabal. Learning that they’d whipped him again, Jack had almost swum back to the island to make sure every last one of them was thoroughly dead. Thankfully, those lashes hadn’t been deep enough to scar, but Jack could still see their angry red lines overlaying the older marks. Ethan was home now, though, mostly healed, and happy. That was what Jack chose to concentrate on.

  “Turn over.” Breath caught in his throat as he spoke, sharp with the ache of how close he’d come to losing the man he loved.