by A M Snead
Jack trembled, struggling to control his sobs. “I’m sorry,” he choked.
“Sorry for what?” Garrett whispered.
“For…for everything,” Jack said thickly. “For telling you…that I liked you. For asking you to bring me home and…for all of this. We should have never left the club.”
He was right. Garrett knew it. But he couldn’t make himself agree. “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Garrett murmured and kissed his shoulder. “You didn’t force me to come back here with you. You certainly didn’t twist my arm to get me to fuck you. I wanted this as much as you did.” Maybe even more.
“What did you want?” Jack asked unsteadily. “To fuck me off camera? Was I just a conquest?”
Garrett pressed his head to Jack’s shoulder. “I don’t know what I wanted, Jack,” he whispered honestly; he didn’t know. “But you weren’t a conquest. Don’t listen to the things Scotty says about me.”
“He says you’re still in love with him.”
“I’m not,” Garrett murmured and kissed Jack’s warm skin, tacky with sweat.
Light shivers ran through Jack’s body and he drew one of Garrett’s arms under his head, laying his cheek against his bicep. “I do like you,” he admitted tentatively and entwined his fingers through Garrett’s. “That way. I don’t want to, but…I do.” His voice strained with deeper emotion. “You don’t have to like me back. It’s…it’s probably better if you don’t.” Warm tears dripped onto Garrett’s arm. “I’m not like Scotty. I can let it go, if it isn’t what you want. I won’t be mad at you.”
Garrett closed his eyes and kissed the nape of Jack’s neck, his soft hair tickling his face. He turned Jack over to face him and kissed his lips, slipping his tongue into his mouth slowly, sensually, allowing the kiss to deepen with passion and meaning. Jack moaned and wrapped his arms around Garrett’s neck, clinging to him with quiet desperation, as if he were afraid Garrett might suddenly flee his arms and never return.
Without breaking their kiss, Garrett shifted, gently rolling Jack onto his back as he covered the young man’s body with his own. Jack’s legs curled around him, hips lifting, inviting Garrett to take him as they both stiffened with desire and need.
“Uuhh…” Jack moaned into Garrett’s mouth when Garrett pushed inside him.
Garrett slid his fingers through Jack’s hair as the younger man’s arms went around his body. He kissed Jack’s lips, his cheeks, his brow, and back down to his mouth as he thrust into him slowly with long, deep strokes. He found Jack’s sweet spot and massaged it with his cock head until the boy was clinging to him, gasping, his body shuddering and struggling to pick up the pace.
Smiling softly, Garrett continued to drop kisses on Jack’s lips as he tormented him with the slow, thorough rubbing of his prostate.
“Fuck…” Jack swallowed hard, eyes pinching as he sucked for air. “Oh God…that feels so fucking good…”
“Uuhhmm…fuck…it does,” Garrett groaned low and kissed Jack’s neck, gently gathering skin between his teeth and tugging.
Jack rubbed his hands down Garrett’s body, his fingertips playing along his spine, through the sway of his lower back and lower to cover his ass cheeks. He squeezed firmly and pulled Garrett deeper inside him. “Yes…” Jack whimpered when Garrett took the cue and pushed in harder, drew out a fraction then shoved in again with added force. “Oh fuck…yes…” Jack gripped his ass tighter and lifted his hips, matching Garrett’s slow rhythm, their bodies gliding together in sweet, seductive unison.
“Uuuuhhh…” Garrett moaned loud and found Jack’s mouth again, kissing him wantonly. He moved against him with more need, his hard cock squeezing in and out of Jack’s tight inner sleeve, the tense anal muscles gripping his member and trying to draw him back in on each backstroke. “Fuck, Jack,” he panted, lips trembling against Jack’s mouth. “Fuck, baby…you feel so good…” His heart raced wildly as Jack kissed his neck and slid his hands up his body again, holding him and making love to him with a passion that knocked Garrett’s world off its axis.
“I love it when you call me baby,” Jack moaned as the emotions swept them both away. “I want to be your baby.”
Garrett shuddered and thrust into him a little harder, more urgent, his hot breath coming quicker. “I want you to be, Jack,” he panted unsteadily and clung to Jack, shoving into him with desperation. His hands moved to Jack’s ass and lifted him to each thrust. “Fuck…yes…I want you, Jack…I want you so much…”
His words were swallowed in Jack’s intense kiss as they relinquished all control—physically and emotionally.
♥
His forehead touched the cool surface of the door, shoving hard, causing an ache to vein through his temples. Scotty squeezed his eyes shut as if doing so could shut out the sounds emanating from within Jack’s bedroom.
I want to be your baby.
Scotty hugged himself, face straining, pinching as tears burned behind his closed lids.
I want you to be.
Scotty shook his head slowly. “You’re lying,” he whispered, voice shaking. “You don’t want him. You’ll fuck him and then you’ll be done with him…like you did with me.” But it hurt to hear him say the words to another boy, whether he meant them or not. And it cut to the core of his heart to hear the passion in their lovemaking. They’re not making love—they’re fucking! That’s all! He doesn’t love him!
Backing away from the door, body trembling, Scotty retreated down the hall as Jack and Garrett’s moans escalated to cries, both begging the other to “Fuck me! Harder!”
Scotty slipped into his bedroom and closed the door. The sounds were muffled, barely audible, but he could still hear them. Tears coursed down his cheeks and he went into the bathroom and closed that door as well, muffling their cries even more. He stared at himself in the mirror, face flushed and wet.
“I hate you.” His chin trembled, fresh tears welling. “What is wrong with you? It’s your fault he wants him! You’re not good enough to keep him for yourself! You’re stupid!” he cried, face twisting. “And ugly!” He hit the mirror hard with his palm, cracking the glass. “I hate you! You’re no good! They leave you because you’re a piece of shit!”
His chest heaved, heart pounding as images arose and pain and rage surged through his veins. Too much pain…too much…for too long. His jaw clenched as a cry erupted forth and his fist smashed the mirror, shattering the glass this time. Sharp shards fell into the sink, clinking down into the porcelain basin.
Sobs broke inside him and he cried as he stared at his knuckles, sliced and bleeding.
“You deserve it.” He trembled. Tears dripped off his face and mingled with the blood splattering in the sink. “You’re no good and you deserve to be in pain.” He told you why it hurt…and how to stop the pain. Stop it now. Make it go away. You know how…just do it.
His hand shook as he tentatively picked up a shard of the mirror. He sat down on the floor, his back against the tub. He touched the shard to his skin then slowly dragged the jagged tip of the glass across his forearm, a shallow cut forming in its wake. He shuddered and choked on a sob. “You don’t deserve to be loved. You’re nothing.” He cut himself again and squeezed his eyes shut, crying quietly. “You should have never been born. You’re evil. Child of the devil.” That’s what he was. What he had always been. That’s why the monsters had come…why they devoured him…because he was a child of sin and they lusted for his dirty flesh.
The glass shard dropped from his fingertips and hit the tile. Scotty stared at his bleeding arm, watched the crimson stream trickle down his skin and drip onto the floor. He swallowed thickly, his pulse calming a little as the blood slowly drained out, taking with it some of the pain that felt so thick inside him.
He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there when he realized all was quiet. He waited, listening intently. Then he heard it; a bedroom door closing quietly…footsteps in the hall. He crawled to his feet and quickly washed his arm ben
eath the sink faucet then wrapped a hand towel around the cuts. Hand shaking, he opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom, his arm hugged against his stomach. Scotty went to the bed and lay down on his back and waited.
His eyes grew heavy with emotional exhaustion and closed slowly though he tried to keep them open. But he lost the battle as sleep grabbed him and pulled him under.
He was sure he had only been asleep a few minutes when he awoke to lips on his neck and a strong body lying down beside him. Hands slipped under his shirt then down inside his pants, rubbing him firmly, getting him hard in an instant.
“You were listening, weren’t you?” Warm breath heated his ear.
“Yes,” Scotty whispered thickly.
“Good.”
Scotty’s clothes were removed with skillful, urgent hands. Nothing was said about the towel around his arm. Maybe it wasn’t even noticed. Scotty didn’t care. He had come to him, just like he knew he would.
“Turn over.”
Scotty twisted onto his stomach as he listened to his lover shed his clothes then felt him crawl back onto the bed, pushing Scotty’s legs apart. A wet, slick tongue dragged up between his ass cheeks then strong, rough hands spread him open as stiff thumbs probed his entrance not too gently. Saliva was spit on his hole then he was being filled with thick, hard cock.
“Uuh!” Scotty gasped and clutched his pillow as he was fucked deep and hard, no preliminaries. Again, he didn’t care. He was loved.
♥
I want to be your baby.
Sleep slowly receded, Jack’s own words lingering in his thoughts as he came to full wakefulness. His body was sore and tired, but in a good way—as it is only after great, enthusiastic sex. He opened his eyes slowly and stared at the dark ceiling. Fearful excitement caused his heart to beat a little faster; he had confessed to Garrett that he liked him “that” way, said he wanted to be his baby.
Had it just been the alcohol talking? He considered it, but that thought was grounded before it could take flight. He’d only had one shot before getting onstage, and there was no denying that by the end of his and Garrett’s dance—Jack had been ready to bare all to the man; body, heart, and soul.
You fell for him, little brother. Now lie back and enjoy the ride. Don’t fight it.
Jack was scared shitless, but even so…maybe Jill was right after all. Maybe closing himself off because of what happened with Aaron wasn’t the best course of action. Still, he couldn’t prevent himself from feeling cautious of these new emotions, or afraid that he had made a huge mistake in opening up to Garrett. What if Garrett was having second thoughts?
“Garrett?” Jack whispered and turned his head. “Are you awake…” His words trailed off as he found only empty bed beside him. His pulse quickened before he could stop it. Don’t panic, he’s probably in the bathroom. But the bathroom door was ajar and the light off.
Jack sat forward and turned on the lamp. He looked for Garrett’s clothes, but they were gone as well. Surely there were a multitude of reasons why he might have left the bedroom. And it made sense that if he had to go do something, he would get dressed. Jack lay back down and stared at the ceiling again, his body tight with tension. He’ll be back. He will.
Minutes ticked by but still no sign of Garrett. Queasiness pinching his gut, Jack shoved back the covers and left the bed. He found his jeans and pulled them on then went to the door. He hesitated when he grabbed the doorknob, fearful but unsure of just what he was afraid of. Gripping the knob, he twisted slowly and opened the door and stepped out into the hall.
It was dark in the hallway and Jack took small steps that eventually led him to Garrett’s bedroom door. A tightness squeezed his throat and he knocked quietly then opened the door a few inches. The room was dark, but enough moonlight pushed around the drapes for Jack to see that the bed was still made, and empty.
Jack returned to the hallway and closed the door. Maybe he had gone downstairs for something. Jack headed for the staircase. He gripped the banister and took the first step, then froze, heart pounding. The moans and whimpers were muffled but still audible enough to reach into the hallway. And there was no mistaking the sounds of sex.
No one had been home but for him and Garrett…and Scotty. Maybe some of the other guys came back while you were asleep. Jack stepped back up off the stairs and looked in the direction of the sounds; they were coming from Scotty’s room.
As soon as you let him fuck you…he’s going to dump you.
Jack’s pulse quickened, his heart thumping against his ribs.
He’s still in love with me, even if he won’t admit it.
Jack’s feet rooted to the carpet as he stared down the hall, nausea rising up with a rush of fear and tension. He tried to turn and go back to his own room, but his legs wouldn’t obey his mind. Rather they moved him forward, toward the last place he wanted to go.
His feet felt like lead as he slowly, reluctantly approached Scotty’s bedroom door. The sounds were louder as he stood just outside, and he heard Scotty’s cries of passion. At first, they were just that—cries and moans. Jack wanted to run before he heard anymore, before names were cried out in the height of ecstasy and there could be no denying the truth that he was fighting off with all his might. But it was too late, words were forming.
Jack trembled, his mind coming apart. Tears filled his eyes as his heart began to pound with hurt and surge with rage. His hand was gripping the doorknob before he knew what he was doing. His breath rushing through his nostrils, he twisted the knob, intent on bursting in and catching them in the act. But instead, he opened the door slowly, just a few inches. The window blinds were open, and moonlight poured in, illuminating the two bodies in the bed—fucking urgently.
“Yes, Garrett…fuck me…” Scotty moaned. “Tell me…you love me…me and…not Jack.”
Jack squeezed the knob, his body shaking.
“I do.” A whispered groan, so low Jack could barely hear. “Jack means nothing…I love you.”
A sudden wave of nausea swept through Jack and he backed out the door and ran for his room. He made it to the toilet in the nick of time, dropping to his knees and vomiting hard. Most of what came out of him was alcohol, and when it was gone, his stomach insisted there was more as he dry heaved until his stomach hurt. Tears streaked his face and he choked on his sobs and the vile, bitter acid coating his throat.
Jack means nothing…I love you.
Jack flushed the toilet and sagged back against the tub, a sudden numbness invading his mind. When he finally crawled to his feet, his legs were shaky, his stomach still insisting it needed to empty itself. He washed his mouth out and left the bathroom, started to go for the bed then turned toward the door instead. He closed it tight and locked it.
When he started for the bed, his knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, everything inside him breaking all at once. He crawled back and pressed against the door, legs drawn up to his chest. He buried his face in his arms and cried until his chest hurt and he couldn’t catch his breath.
I told you, Jill! I fucking told you this would happen! It’s a lie! All of it!
Jack scraped his fingers through his hair and clutched the strands. “Why did you push me to like him?” he choked, trembling. “I told you…I told you I didn’t want this…I told you…”
The doorknob twisted, and Jack jumped, tumbling away from the door, eyes wide as he watched the knob twist back and forth, catching on the lock. His heartbeat thumped in the base of his throat. He couldn’t move.
“Jack?” Garrett spoke low and knocked on the door. “Jack, why is the door locked?”
Jack swallowed thickly, fresh tears burning.
Garrett knocked again, louder. “Jack? What’s going on? Come on, open the door.”
Jack’s jaw clenched, anguish and rage boiling inside him. Go to hell, motherfucker! Jack crawled onto the bed and under the blankets. He covered his ears until Garrett finally gave up and went away, then he broke again and cried in
to his pillow.
He drifted in and out of troubled sleep until he heard the others return from the club. He waited for everyone to go to their rooms, waited for silence to settle over the large house, then left his bed and crept into the hall.
Jack moved quietly and hesitated when he came to the bedroom door. His jaw ached as he fought another rush of tears. He knocked once, softly, then opened the door and slipped inside. His heart hurt so bad he could barely speak, his words falling from his lips in a mere whisper. “Are you…awake?”
“Jack?” As soon as the soft voice touched his ears, he broke down. “Jack…what’s wrong?”
“Can I…stay in here tonight?” He hugged himself, shaking.
He heard no movement above the sound of his own sobs and pounding of his heart, but gentle hands were suddenly touching him, guiding him to the bed. His pants were removed with care and then he was lying on soft sheets…tucked safely between two angels.
“It’s going to be okay, Jack,” Marcus whispered and kissed his hair as Jack buried his face in the young man’s neck and cried softly.
“Sleep, Jack,” Mickey murmured and cuddled against his back, arms wrapping around him. He laid his cheek on Jack’s shoulder. “Rest now. You’re safe with us. We’ll take care of you, baby.”
Jack shifted and laid his head on Marcus’ chest, listened to the beat of his beautiful heart, and prayed it would drown out the tormenting confession echoing inside his head.
Jack means nothing.
Nothing.
PART TWO
“Jack in the Box”
25 “The Morning After”
