Chess Part One Box Set

by Sean Michael

  “I’m glad I could be here to help.” It was true.

  “Me, too.”

  They fell into silence and he thought maybe Rook had dozed off until they turned into the driveway and he leaned forward to pay the cabbie.

  “We’re home, man.” They headed in, the place seeming so cold and quiet. It hardly felt like anyone lived there anymore. God knew, they were at the hospital all the time, so it wasn’t surprising.

  Rook went over to the thermostat and turned it up, just kind of wandering after that until they wound up in the kitchen. “I guess we should eat?”

  “I’ll start some eggs and toast. You start the kettle?” He went to the fridge and dug out eggs.

  “Yeah, I can manage the kettle.” Rook gave him a small half-smile and grabbed the kettle, filling it at the sink.

  Jason put the toast in, then turned on some music. Rook came over and wrapped around him from behind, leaned against him.

  “Hey, love.” He reached back and patted Rook’s hip.

  “Tell me again everything is going to be okay?”

  “Everything is going to be okay.” He wasn’t sure if he believed it. Knight needed to wake up before he was really solid on the words. He wasn’t going to tell Rook that, though.

  Rook took a deep breath and sighed. “Okay. I believe you.”

  “Good.” He cracked the eggs into the pan.

  Rook squeezed him, then went and got the cups down and opened the box of tea. Supper was simple—quiet, but it was nice to sit together, to just eat and be together. Rook helped him with the dishes after, then wandered again, looking lost.

  “Do you want to take a bath? Watch TV?” Something?

  “Oh, a bath… Will you come in with me?”

  “Absolutely. That sounds like a decadence, doesn’t it?”

  “It does.” Rook pushed close, holding on.

  He wrapped one arm around Rookie, heading toward the bathroom they used most often—the big one with the four person shower and the huge tub. The whole house just felt…unlived in.

  Rook let him start the tub filling, let him get everything ready. He turned some music on, got undressed then got towels and washcloths. He encouraged Rook to get undressed and get into the tub.

  Rook held out a hand. “You’re coming in with me, right?”

  “I promise. I want a beer, though. You?”

  “Sure, whatever you want.”

  “I want a cold beer and a hot bath.”

  “Do you want me to get it for you?” Rook climbed out of the tub, dripping on the floor.

  “Nope. I’m going. Breathe, Rook, huh? You’re scaring me a little.”

  Rook met his gaze, eyes wide. “What?”

  “You’re so disconnected. Just stop. Breathe. I’m here. You’re here. We’re together. Be here with me.” Please.

  “Honey?” Rook reached for him.

  Jason opened his arms, tears surprisingly close. These guys were his family now, too. Rook pushed into his arms, wet and shivering. Jason held on, burying his face in Rook’s hair, his nose full of Rook’s scent. Rook’s shoulders shook.

  “I’ve got you.” He did, and he’d hold on.

  “Don’t let go. Please, honey.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” Jason never wanted to let go.

  Rook looked up at him, eyes swimming with tears, and brought their lips together. Jason cupped Rookie’s head and took a slow, easy kiss, loving this man with all he was. A sob filled his mouth. Rook’s arms went around his shoulders, his lover holding on like he was a lifeline. He held on, rocking Rook, focusing. They could do this.

  Rook sucked on his tongue, moaning around it.

  “Bathtub.” They could cuddle, stay warm, make love.

  “It’s right there.” That was almost a twinkle in Rook’s eyes. Almost.

  “Uh-huh. The water’s warm.”

  “Okay.” Rook let him go enough that they could both climb into the tub.

  Rook ended up in his lap, in his arms, holding on. Melting against him, Rook took one kiss after another, mouth clinging to his. It was almost easy—to relax, to focus on Rook and float and taste and feel.

  Rook began to feed him moans, sweet and soft, almost tentative. He encouraged them, encouraged the need. He wanted his lover.

  He felt Rook’s prick begin to firm up against him and Rook gasped, “Jason!”

  “Yes. Yes, lover. Please.”

  “Oh, God. Honey,” Rook sobbed, diving into another kiss, this one needy.

  Jason groaned, tugging Rook in, fucking the sweet lips with all he had. Please. Please, Rook. Come back to me. He hated that Knight was hurt, but…he needed Rook.

  Rook clung to him, his hips stuttering against Jason’s belly like he had forgotten how to make love. Jason backed off a little, focusing on touching, letting Rook feel things that were good. Sweet moans pushed into his mouth, Rook’s fingers sliding on his shoulders, tracing his collarbones.

  Oh. Oh, hell yes. It felt so good, knowing he was doing this right, making Rook happy.

  Rook shifted, legs coming around his waist in the water, their pricks bumping and rubbing.

  “Love you.” He pushed the words into Rook’s kiss, into those warm lips.

  “Yes. Oh, God, Jason, I love you.” Rook moved closer, hips beginning to find a rhythm now, rubbing them together.

  They both worked it, rocking—the water splashing over the sides of the tub. There would be a mess, but Jason didn’t care.

  Rook pushed his fingers between them, finding his nipples and tweaking them. The little sting was perfect and he gasped, hips rolling hard.

  “Fuck. Yes, honey.” Rook met his eyes, passion there, shining for him as Rook pinched again.

  “Yes. Yes, please.” He’d never asked for it before. Not like this. He was begging for it, begging for it like it was his life.

  “Want you so bad.” Rook shook his head. “No. Not want—need. Need you so bad.”

  “I’m yours.” Surely Rook knew that.

  Rook’s mouth descended on his again, Rook driving their bodies together now, hard and sure. Jason’s hands were fastened on Rook’s ass, squeezing, using his strength to encourage more, faster. Rook started tongue-fucking his mouth, matching the movements of Rook’s hips and driving them higher.

  His knees bent, cradling Rook, letting their cocks have more friction.

  “Jason!” Rook cried out his name, eyes going wide as he shook, and Jason felt Rook’s spunk against him before the water stole it away.

  “I have you. I do.” He groaned, hips moving restlessly, his balls aching.

  Rook collapsed against him, hand stealing between them to wrap around his prick and pull.

  “Oh, God.” His eyes crossed, his throat working convulsively.

  “I have you.” Rook’s thumb brushed over his tip.

  “Uh-huh.” Please. Please.

  Leaning in, Rook wrapped his right nipple in heat, lips tugging lightly on it. That was all he needed to pull him over, let him come and come, crying out Rook’s name. Slowing his fingers, but not letting go, Rook melted against him, his breath warm against his neck.

  Oh, better. For the first time in days, Jason felt like he could breathe. Rook found his hand, twining their fingers together, body heavy and easy on his.

  “Hey.” He kissed Rook’s temple.

  “Mmm. Oh, I could just fall asleep right here, honey.” Rook sounded half asleep already.

  “Let’s go to bed, so we can be together.” And not wake up half frozen to death.

  “Okay, honey.” Rook nuzzled into his neck.

  He stood and lifted Rook, grabbed the towels and wrapped them both up.

  “So strong.” Rook kissed his right nipple.

  “It’s what I’m good at.”

  “Oh, you’re good at a whole lot more, honey.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “I know so.” Rook bit his chest.

  “You bit me!” Jason burst out laughing—real, honest, deep
laughter.

  Rook giggled softly and grabbed hold of his shoulders, holding onto him.

  “Come on. Let’s go to your bed.” He liked Rook’s room. It was smaller, cozy and warm.

  “Yeah. I don’t want to go to the big bedroom.” Rook shuddered and pressed closer.

  “No. We’ll talk about how we’ll make things easier for him when it’s closer to Knight coming home.” If he ever does. He tried not to feel like a traitor, thinking that. If only the man would wake up.

  “We’ll make sure it’s as easy as possible for him.”

  “Of course.” They tumbled into Rook’s bed, both of them snuggling into the covers, cuddling close.

  Rook nuzzled him. “Love you, honey.”

  “I love you, Rook. Honest.”

  Rook drew back, looking into his eyes. “I know, Jase.”

  “I… It’s not just the job. It hasn’t been. Not for a long time.”

  “For me, either, honey. Hell, I don’t think it has been for Bishop and Knight, either. You belong here with us—you’re family.”

  “I want to be.” He wanted to be with them. For real.

  “You are. You’ve proved that.” Rook settled with him, stroking his belly.

  He hoped so. He didn’t have anything else to offer.

  “You’re so warm,” murmured Rook.

  “I have you. I can’t be cold.” God, that was stupid.

  Rook giggled softly and pushed closer. “I like that.”

  “Thanks, Rookie.” He kissed the top of Rook’s head. “You want to watch TV a while?”

  “Sure.” Rook kissed his chest. “I’m easy, as long as we can do it together.”

  Jason stretched, found the remote and handed it over. “Find something mindless.”

  “Yes, boss.” Rook gave him a little wink, a wiggle.

  “Turkey.” He held Rook close.

  “Your turkey.”

  “Yes, thank God.”

  Rook clicked through the channels, settling on a rerun of Criminal Minds. It wasn’t long after that his arms were full of sleeping man.

  He knew it was awful—he knew it—but he thanked God it hadn’t been Rook.

  Chapter Eight

  Bishop waited patiently for the nurses to finish with Knight then slipped back into the room, taking up residence in the sleeping chair by Knight’s bed. He didn’t know why they called it a sleeping chair—he sure hadn’t done any sleeping in it. Not to speak of, anyway.

  He looked over at Knight. “You need to wake up, baby. I mean it now—need to.”

  One of the surgeries for relieving pressure had necessitated the doctors shaving a spot in his lovely dark hair. Knight was shrinking, dissolving before his eyes. It was killing him inside.

  He grabbed one of the books about art that Jason had brought in and started reading it out loud. They’d told him hearing his voice would help. He was pretty sure he didn’t believe that anymore.

  Maybe he should read horror, porn—something less boring. Porn just might do it. He gave a short bark of cheerless laughter. Maybe he ought to just climb into bed and order Knight to wake the fuck up and stop scaring them.

  “We brought you pasta and salad, Bish.”

  He jerked around, startled—he hadn’t heard them come in—and nodded at Jason and Rookie. “Thanks.” He didn’t feel like eating.

  They had both been going home at night, and it was helping. Rook looked less panicked, more hopeful. More like himself. Bishop needed that. If Knight wasn’t going to wake up, he needed Rookie to be Rookie and not some pale imitation of the real thing.

  Rook came and knelt in front of him, hands on his legs. “You look like shit.”

  He didn’t even have it in him to protest or grouse at Rook over the insult. “I feel like shit, Rookie.”

  Rook’s soft hand slid over his cheek. “So let Jason take you home and feed you. You can take a nap, breathe non-hospital air for a little bit.”

  “No. I can’t. What if he wakes up and I’m not here?” He wasn’t leaving. He couldn’t. Period.

  “I’ll be here, Bish. And I’ll call you right away and tell him how you’ve been here all along. Please,” Rookie pleaded. “You’re looking like a ghost.”

  “Come on. We can work out. Eat. Watch UFC.” Jason was so fucking earnest.

  “Please,” Rook begged him. “Two hours. Just go for two hours. I swear I’ll take care of Knight while you’re gone. I won’t leave his side. At all. For anything.”

  He sighed, looked at Knight who was just there—still, silent. Pale. A shadow of himself.

  “Look, if he wakes up while you’re gone, it’s still a good thing, right?” Rook nudged him and he actually chuckled.

  He gave in. “Okay, okay. Two hours.”

  “Come on. Let’s go.” Jason smiled at him, took his arm.

  He looked at Rookie. “You need to go to the bathroom or anything before we go?”

  Rook rolled his eyes. “Just go. I won’t abandon our K.”

  “All right, all right.” He finally let Jason lead him out.

  “Did you want your food?” Jason looked back at him. “I have to tell you, Rook picked it out. It was…interesting.”

  “Have we got something decent at home?” At least Rook hadn’t made it.

  “I have stuff for hot roast beef sandwiches.”

  Bishop’s stomach actually rumbled. “Then let’s leave the pasta in the garbage, huh?”

  “You got it.”

  Jason seemed to know where they were going and soon they were out of the doors, and fuck, it was bitterly cold, sharp enough to steal his breath.

  “I almost forgot it was winter.” He did his coat up to the throat and dug his fingers into his pockets as Jason hailed them a cab. He wasn’t sure why they were leaving the car in the parking lot for whoever stayed behind—it was costing them a fortune.

  “I know. It’s weird, huh? That hospital is like the place that time forgot.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, that’s a good description.”

  The days had kind of just faded one into the other. He wasn’t even sure exactly how long it had been since…since it had started.

  Jason didn’t bullshit, didn’t tell him everything was going to be fine. The man stood with him, talked about nothing at all—the weather, people. Just a quiet steady patter that he could hear, but not listen to.

  They got into their taxi and Jason gave the address before going back to talking to him. It lasted through the whole cab ride, then, suddenly, they were home.

  He stood there and looked at it. He didn’t want to go in.

  “Come on. We’ll go in the front.” Bishop knew Jason was just trying to make it so that they didn’t have to go by the studio. Jason unlocked the door and tugged him. “Come on. You’ll feel better after food.”

  He wasn’t convinced he’d ever feel better again, but he followed Jason nonetheless. Now that he was here, he might as well try.

  The house didn’t feel weird. It was just home. Quiet, but home. He perched on a bar stool as Jason wandered around, getting bread and meat and cheese out. He thought he could eat. He couldn’t at the hospital, but maybe here he’d be able to. He got a glass of milk and a piece of cheese to nibble on. It actually sat decently on his stomach.

  “You’re going to spoil your lunch.” Jason gave him a wink.

  He snorted and held his glass out to Jason, who refilled it. “That sandwich ready yet?”

  “They’re better heated up. You want chips?”

  “Sure.” He was suddenly starving.

  “We have salt and vinegar, plain, and sour cream and onion.”

  He made a face. “You let Rookie go grocery shopping. I’ll have the plain.”

  “I did.” Jason grinned. “I promise to grab barbecue ones next time.”

  “You better. I count on you to have my back.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Bishop realized how true they were.

  “I do.” Jason’s words were soft, quiet, and so serious.
/>   He nodded. Yeah. Yeah, Jason did. “I know.”

  “Good.” The timer dinged. Jason plated the two sandwiches and sat across from him.

  “This looks good, man.” He meant it, too. It looked and smelled good and his stomach was eager for food for the first time in weeks.

  “I’m getting better.”

  “Baby boy, you were better than any of us when you walked in the door.”

  Jason gave him a pleased, warm grin. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Eat.”

  “Yes, boss.” He gave Jason a wink and took a bite, his stomach actually growling as soon as the food hit his taste buds.

  It was a damned fine sandwich and they sat and ate—no stress, no drama. Just two dudes munching. It was what he needed. Well, what he needed was his Knight to fucking wake up, but this worked for now.

  He helped Jason clean up, then sort of wandered, at a loss again. What now?

  “Bish?” At the sound, he turned to Jason. “You want to go spar a little? Work off some stress?”

  That actually sounded good. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”

  “Cool.” Jason gave him a smile.

  Bishop thought, maybe, Jason needed this too. Hell, the kid was used to working out for hours with him and since Knight had been hit by the fucking snow plow, everything had stopped. Everything.

  They changed into their shorts and T-shirts and headed down to the workout room. Jase handed him boxing gloves, head protection, and turned on some driving music. “No face hits, okay? Rook freaks.”

  He chuckled. Rook did. It was probably better not to, anyway. He had a feeling they both might be hitting pretty hard.

  He suited up and they started circling, jabbing lightly, barely pushing, tapping each other as they warmed up. He started landing slightly harder punches, his breath huffing out of him with his hits. Jason took them and responded, letting the exchanges slowly build. Fuck. Fuck, he needed this. He needed this.

  He kept his blows confined to Jason’s upper chest and arms. The huge, solid muscles could take it, so when the blows intensified, Jason didn’t back away. Bishop started hitting in earnest, Jason’s blows rocking him in return. It felt fucking good and he slammed a little harder, harsh grunts coming from him.

  Jason pushed back, forcing him to sweat, to ache, to give more. He stopped thinking and just kept hitting, pushing. If tears mingled with the sweat, so be it. He was busy.